This Is Bioethics. Udo Schüklenk
and predict the phenomenon in question. There is arguably no equivalent to this in ethics. However, progress in ethics undoubtedly occurs, too. Today we pretty much agree that slavery is unethical, and we even agree by and large on the reasons for this conclusion. In some ways progress in ethics is not dissimilar to progress that occurs in other Humanities’ disciplines. For instance, do we have incontrovertible proof of the causes that ultimately led to Hitler’s ascendancy to Chancellor in the dying days of the Republic of Weimar? Historians speak much to the causes, but truth be told, their idea of causation is very different to that of a physicist. And yet, we will still find most historians agreeing on some of the fundamental causes that led to Hitler’s coming to power. We encounter similar situations with regard to research conducted by researchers working in other disciplines, such as anthropologists, geographers, and even lawyers, yet the charge that they are unable to prove their conclusions objectively ‘right’ isn’t usually leveled against them. Perhaps progress should be measured taking into account the peculiarities and idiosyncrasies of particular disciplines.
1.34 Gordon Graham, a Scottish philosopher and ordained Anglican priest, seems to have hit the nail on its head when he writes, ‘Provided we accept that our conclusions will in all likelihood fall short of absolute proof or incontrovertible demonstration, the most plausible and intelligent approach to moral questions and disagreements is just to see how far clear and cogent reasoning – assembly of the relevant facts, analysis of the relevant concepts and adherence to the rules of logic – can take us’ (Graham 2004, 13). He goes on to say that a point of view that he describes as ‘soft objectivism’ holds ‘that for any moral matter reason may be able to point us to a resolution that (…) is clearer and more cogent than any other and which it would be logically possible but unreasonable to dispute’ (14).
1.4 Why be Ethical?
1.35 That is an odd question, isn’t it? Let us first be clear though about the meaning of this question! Philosophers have, naturally, argued about that, too. What we are interested in is essentially a question about the authority of morality. Why should someone who subscribes to a particular morality, say utilitarianism, actually act according to what a consistent utilitarian analysis would conclude she ought to do when that is going to result in her losing out in some way, and others, possibly even others in far‐away lands, winning? Why act altruistically when an egoistic course of action would result in a much better pay‐off for her, others be more or less damned? Truth be told, there is no answer that we have come across that would persuade everyone, i.e. there is no answer following logically from uncontroversial normative premises. In what follows we offer a few possible answers to this question without claiming that they constitute some kind of trump card ending the debate.
1.36 Apparently, knowledge of ethics has only a limited effect on the moral behavior of ethicists themselves. Strangely, professionals who work full‐time ‘in ethics’ do not in the average appear to be much more ethical18 than other people (Schwitzgebel 2015).
1.37 Some philosophers have argued that moral judgments in their own right provide strong reasons for acting19 in a particular way that is guided by those moral judgments. The idea here is that moral properties such as ‘right’ and ‘good’ motivate us to act in certain ways and they do so in a manner sufficiently powerful to override other considerations, provided we have a proper understanding of what is morally required of us. Simply put, if we reflected on whether or not we ought to donate to the medical NGO described at the beginning of this chapter and we concluded that it would be the morally right thing to do for us, we are also provided with a motive for actually donating to the NGO.
1.38 In any case, isn’t it self‐evident that we should act morally? Certainly some philosophers hold that view. With the notable exception of psychopaths most of us do experience bouts of guilt and bad conscience each time we act in a manner that we consider immoral. There might be good evolutionary reasons for this response, too (Katchadourian 2010, 167ff). Most economists will tell you that our actions are driven entirely by self‐interest. And yet, if you look a bit around yourself, you can’t help but notice that many of us engage in actions that don’t seem immediately driven by selfish motives. Tax incentives or no, many of us donate for instance to support charitable causes benefiting people in far‐flung corners of the planet, even though there is no demonstrable pay‐off to us. Just think of Life You Can Safe20, an initiative by the Australian philosopher Peter Singer. On the initiative’s website he tells a story21 of a little girl falling into a pond. Unable to swim, she thrashes about in the water and is about to drown, unless you step in to rescue her. Of course, stepping into the water would wreck your shoes. No doubt most, if not all of us would step into the water to rescue the girl that is struggling for her life, despite the fact that there is no immediate benefit to ourselves, and despite the fact that we would actually incur an inconvenience, possibly even a loss in terms of wrecked clothes. Most of us would do this despite the fact that a legal duty to rescue is not enshrined in the laws of many a country. Singer then goes on to make the point that there is no ethically relevant difference between that girl and another girl that might die a preventable death in a far‐away resource poor country because we have not donated the equivalent dollar amount of a pair of wrecked shoes to an initiative aimed at preventing her death. Life You Can Safe encourages us to volunteer22 a certain amount of our income to initiatives aimed at preserving such lives.
1.39 Consider a completely different example of altruistic behavior. Claire Aitchison, an Australian academic, clearly somewhat disenchanted with the work climate at her Sydney based university, traveled in 2012 to Bali, an Indonesian island. You might want to read23 her account of this visit where she writes of her experiences:
Kindness in Bali seems to be a national pastime. I was blown away by the numerous, daily acts of kindness. We were the recipients of so many kindnesses arising from concerns for our welfare, health, enjoyment, comfort and so on; it was almost unnerving. We were invited into people’s homes, to ceremonies at the village temple, we were offered food; the list goes on. Each morning and evening someone came to our house to lay out beautifully constructed offerings to protect us, and the home. It seemed extraordinary that this woman would care so much for the welfare of strangers, but by virtue of coming to the village, we were welcomed into their sphere of kindness, it would seem, without question.
1.40 According to her account the villagers she met engaged in numerous acts of altruistic kindness. The question we are asking here, is, of course, why should they bother doing this to begin with. It turns out to be the case that to many people living an ethical life means living a life that is meaningful to them. A purely egoistic life involving the accumulation of ever more wealth just doesn’t seem to satisfy most of us. To be fair, there are exceptions. Just think of the difference between two billionaires, the late Apple boss Steve Jobs and the investor Warren Buffett. Buffett aims to donate 99 percent24 of his