Ethics in a Nutshell

by Matt Deaton, M.A.

(c) 2009

Ethics is the systematic reason-guided study of what we morally ought to do. It’s one of the four main sub-disciplines of philosophy, the other three being logic, metaphysics and epistemology. While most people defer to religion or society or their gut when deciding moral dilemmas, ethicists think through them for themselves. Whether or not we fully adopt their approach, we can all learn a thing or two from ethicists about asking the right questions, paying attention to the right factors, and holding a consistent set of moral beliefs.

Oughts Based On Reason

The difference between ethics and other ways of deciding what one ought to do is that ethics entails the rigorous use of reason. What we ought to do is one of those slippery questions to which conclusive answers are hard to pin down. All the traditional authorities have their flaws. Because religions ultimately appeal to faith, not evidence, and different religions proscribe different moral mandates, the objective thinker has no principled way to decide which to follow. Citing the Koran won’t convince a Christian, citing the Bible won’t convince a Muslim, and citing either won’t convince an atheist. Therefore, since ethicists want to appeal to reasons anyone can accept—regardless of their religious position—they can’t defer to holy books. Also, because societies disagree what morality entails, each just as confident in their conflicting judgment as the next, ethicists can’t defer to opinion polls. And since personal bias and emotions often cloud our better judgment, our gut can’t always be trusted either. All we can do is think really hard about moral questions and try our best to figure them out. Ethicists use arguments to do just that.

Arguments are groups of statements that logically work together to support a conclusion. In ethical theory (where general theories are built, critiqued, revised and explained), the final conclusion is typically some general mandate, like only do things you could expect everyone else to do too or behave in such a way that overall happiness is maximized. In applied ethics (where we use all that abstract theory to make concrete decisions), the final conclusion is which course of action should be taken, like Suzy should steal the medicine her baby needs to survive or Johnny should not download that pirated software. This is an applied ethics class, so we’re mainly interested in the application phase. But before we can apply the theories well, we have to understand them.

Four Dominant Ethical Theories and their Supporting Arguments

            If philosophers simply said, Here’s what you ought to do, because we said so, ethics would have no stronger claim on the moral truth than religion or society. Fortunately, philosophers argue for their ethical theories—they give us reasons why we should respect their approach to morality. Below is the best they’ve come up with—Kantianism, consequentialism, care ethics and virtue ethics—complete with the abbreviated supporting background arguments—the reasons why you should take each theory seriously (not just because some philosopher said so).

Kantianism

            He’s been dead for 200 years, but philosophers remain in awe of Immanuel Kant. With lasting influence in all four corners of philosophy, his impact on ethics is great. Kant argued that what gives persons intrinsic, infinite value is their ability to reason. Reason facilitates all we do, distinguishes us from beasts, and gives us the freedom to live lives genuinely our own. Without reason we couldn’t value anything else (couldn’t make value judgments without the faculty of judgment itself), so if we value anything  at all we ought to value reason itself above all else. Giving reason its due entails two things:

1) only doing things we could will everyone else do too

2) treating others with respect—never as mere tools but always as infinitely valuable reasoners, no different in worth than ourselves

            The first rule precludes lying, stealing, murdering and the like, since if we willed everyone do that stuff too, the advantage we sought in lying stealing, and murdering would be undercut. If everyone lied all the time, no one  would trust you enough to get away with lying in the first place; if everyone stole all the time,  someone else would steal from you whatever you managed to thieve form another; if everyone murdered, you’d soon be a victim yourself. In each case, the advantage you sought would be nullified if everybody else took that action too, so if everybody can’t do it, neither can you.

            Treating persons with respect has been interpreted to have different implications by different Kant scholars. Some think it just entails largely negative action—being honest and doing no harm, while others think it requires actively helping and looking out for others’ best interests. In business ethics, for example, some think that Kantian respect for employees simply involves being up front with them about the working conditions and ensuring they freely agree to their employment contracts. Others think that fully respecting employees requires providing a living wage, a safe work environment, and reasonably interesting work (at least not mind numbing work). That’s a live debate, and though I find the latter arguments more convincing, lots of really smart people disagree.

Consequentialism

            While Kantians think we should never lie, steal or murder, consequentialists argue that sometimes all three aren’t only morally permissible, but morally obligatory (sometimes not only can we lie, steal and murder, but we should). For these theorists, ethics involves acting in ways that bring about a better future. A person’s actions aren’t judged based on their intentions, but on the consequences they bring about.

            Utilitarianism is probably the most respectable breed of consequentialism. Utilitarians argue that the only thing valued for itself is pleasure—everything else is only of secondary worth. That is, everything we cherish can be reduced to the pleasure or desire satisfaction it brings us. Our cell phones, our laptops, our football tickets, our chocolate ice cream—even our spouses—are all valued for the pleasure they bring us, nothing more. Since there’s no reason to think that any one person’s pursuit of pleasure is more important than the next’s, the morally right course of action is the one that brings about the most pleasure overall. Notice that this isn’t the same thing as maximizing your personal pleasure—it’s not selfish hedonism.

            In practice, how can we tell for sure which action will produce the most pleasure? We can’t tell for sure since things sometimes turn out differently than we expect, and any judgment we make about the pleasure a mind other than our own experiences is necessarily rough. But assuming those problems are surmountable, anytime you’re presented with an ethical dilemma, articulate your options, list all the people potentially affected and the potential effects on them, calculate the pleasure each option is likely to produce, and choose whichever action maximizes net pleasure. For example:

On your way to class Tuesday you pass an apparent stab victim outside. They’re bleeding pretty badly, nobody’s stopping to help, and you know first aid. You know I’ll give a quiz at the beginning of class, and you know I don’t allow make-ups. Should you continue to class or stop and help?

            At least three parties will potentially be affected depending on what you do: you, the stab victim, and the stab victim’s mom. There are of course others, and everyone’s pleasure and pain counts equally—I’m just simplifying the equation to explain the method. To further simplify things we’ll rank each person’s pleasure/pain depending on what you do, based on a 20-point scale from -10 to 10, with -10 being unbearable, excruciating, long-lasting pain, and 10 being wonderful, long-lasting ecstasy.

            For you, if you go on to class you’ll take the quiz (and do well if you studied), and won’t get your favorite shirt bloody. If you stop you’ll miss the quiz on “Ethics in a Nutshell” (and that other assigned reading) and ruin your favorite shirt, but the satisfaction you’ll get from saving a life will more than outweigh it. (Keep in mind that that’s not necessarily the case. If a quiz and a shirt mean more to you than saving a life, these numbers would be different. I’m just assuming you’re not incredibly selfish.) For the stab victim, if you go on to class, assuming everyone keeps their distance, they’re at the very least going to continue to bleed and be horrified that nobody’s stopping to help (which will probably do long-term psychological damage too, maybe even more than the stabbing itself).  If you stop and help, you’ll at least restore their faith in their fellow man, prevent lasting damage from extreme blood loss, and might even save their life. For the stab victim’s mother, if you don’t stop she may lose a child or be burdened with a vegetable for the rest of her life. If you do stop, she’ll still be upset her baby was stabbed, but she’ll be eternally grateful that somebody cared enough to stop the bleeding.

                           go on to class                                   stop and help

you                                2                                                         5

stab victim                  -7                                                        2

stab victim’s mom     -6                                                       -1       

net pleasure             -11                                                       6

            So we give rough numbers to those considerations, add them up and conclude that the morally right thing to do is stop and help. Notice that the math would still come out in favor of stopping even if you were incredibly selfish (cared more about your shirt and the quiz than the bleeding kid’s life), because the stab victim and their mother have so much riding on your help.

Care Ethics

            Care ethicists argue that the male-dominated Western philosophical tradition has it all wrong. Our relational ties to family and friends are obviously morally important—it’s just an irrefutable truth about the human experience that relationships matter. Any ethical theory that doesn’t take relationships seriously and for their own sake (for example, all the rest) is eternally flawed.

            Care ethicists also argue for the primacy of relational considerations because we’re fundamentally interdependent creatures. Though we like to entertain the fantasy that we’re islands, nobody comes into this world, is successfully reared, flourishes or even survives without the help of lots of other people. Even mail-order work-from-home hermits depend on the cooperation of faceless thousands. So since we’re all in this together, to the extent that we’re emotionally attached and indebted to a person, their concerns should have special priority in our ethical decisions.

            For example, say aliens abduct you, your mom the corporate lawyer, and some hotshot oncologist. Demented as aliens are, they force you to choose between mom and doc—one must die. Unless your mom does something socially beneficial on the side, the consequentialist would likely recommend she die and the doctor live.  The oncologist can go on to heal lots of cancer patients and produce lots of pleasure (or at least alleviate lots of pain), but your mom the corporate lawyer actually maximizes net pain with her evil lawyering trickery (I hope your mom isn’t really a corporate lawyer…). But care ethicists object that your relationship with your mother should override any potential benefits saving the doctor might achieve. Beyond the fact that she brought you into this world, nurtured you, and continues to give you unconditional love—beyond simply owing her for all that—your bond is granted special moral status for its own sake, and should be the determining factor in deciding what to do.

Virtue Ethics

We’re all familiar with the virtues of honesty, courage, humility, chastity, thrift and the like. As well as the vices of sloth, greed, gluttony, cowardice, vanity, etc. Virtue ethicists say that we should do our best to develop the former and avoid the latter. It’s all about developing good character.

Why should we care about character? Because doing so will allow us to lead a good life.  Cowardly, gluttonous, lazy people are usually dissatisfied with themselves. They’re not leading good human lives—not living up to their potential. They know it, everyone else knows it—their experience is just less fulfilling than it could be. On the other hand, brave, ambitious people who practice all things in moderation tend to be happier. They lead more satisfying existences more in line with what humans are capable of becoming—they push the boundaries of what they’re personally capable of accomplishing, and look back on their lives with a smile (rather than disgust) as a result.

Notice that the argument underlying virtue ethics is actually kinda selfish. Ethics is about acting virtuously, and acting virtuously is important because it will make you a happier, more complete person. So when presented with a moral dilemma, simply ask yourself how a moral exemplar—some really virtues model (imaginary or real) would handle it—and follow their lead.

The Balancing Act

With those theories in mind, applied ethics or ethical decision-making boils down to balancing four sorts of considerations: a) respecting persons, b) promoting good consequences, c) paying attention to relationships, and d) developing good character. Now, I say that ethical-decision making boils down to balancing these considerations with some humility, because people far smarter than I think one or the other should take priority over the other three. But since the defenders of each theory seem equally smart and their arguments seem equally compelling, the below seems an appropriate way for ethical agents (regular folks) to deal with their reasonable disagreement. (I actually don’t think all four supporting arguments are equally strong, but I do think all four are worthy of our respect and consideration.)   

With any ethical dilemma, you need to first see which sorts of considerations are at play—respecting persons, promoting good consequences,  paying attention to relationships, and developing good character. Then it's a matter of weighing the importance of each consideration within its own realm against the importance of the other considerations within their realms. A really strong kantian consideration will override weak considerations in the other three areas, or a really strong care consideration will override the others, etc. So if I see you bleeding to death in my neighbor's yard (freaky example), I have some weak obligation to respect my neighbor’s property rights and not trespass on her lawn (respect for persons consideration), but I have a much stronger obligation to administer first aid since a) you're a fellow human being and I'd expect the same treatment (respect for persons), b) if I don't help, you could die (terrible consequences), c) though I don't know you very well, I’ve known you for a couple of weeks now and we’re not strangers (relational obligations), and d) helping is the sort of thing a virtuous person would do, and will likely enhance my overall character (virtue ethics). Things get complicated if I'd have to dodge speeding traffic to get to you, or if my son's bleeding to death too and I can only help one of you, or if you're Hitler. But you get the picture.

In the business world, people have obligations to their employer (or their employees), their customer (or their client), their families, and themselves. Which takes precedence in any given dilemma depends on promises made (keeping promises is part of respecting persons, and implicit contracts/warranties/terms of employment all count), potential benefits and harms (company needs to thrive, but those employees you're about to layoff have interests too), as well as established reciprocal trust (relationships with boss, employees, customers—good or bad). There's a tendency of some businesspeople to equate the legal with the moral, but just because drug testing your employees or polluting or using a harmful chemical is legal, doesn't mean it's moral. (Just think to the times when companies could legally own slaves—didn't make it moral.)

The Role of Gut

            I said in the opening paragraph that our gut couldn’t be trusted. We can’t follow our intuitions when it comes to moral decisions because our instincts often get us in trouble. Bias and overreaction lead us astray, the heart clouds the mind—that’s why we employ reason.

            But our gut does play a respected role in analyzing ethical theory. When it comes to our baseline, fundamental, no doubt moral convictions, like murder is wrong, we shouldn’t allow an elaborate argument to sway our certainty. If a theory tells us murder is OK, that’s probably reason enough to reject or revise the theory, not declare murder morally acceptable.

Consulting our gut can also help us build moral theories of our own. In fact, moral coherentism is a meta-ethical approach to ethics that does just that. You start with your bedrock moral convictions and try to extract some general principle that you can consistently apply to your other convictions. Maybe murder is wrong because I myself have an incredibly strong interest in not being murdered. Maybe lying is wrong because I have a strong interest in not being lied to. Viola—the Golden Rule—treat others as you would like to be treated! Then, when presented with a moral dilemma you're uncertain about, just apply the principle. I’m not sure if downloading this software is wrong, but if I had taken the time and made the investment to create it, I sure as heck wouldn't appreciate someone else downloading it. So I won’t do it—I’ll save my money and buy it or just do without. A similar strategy can be used to support the four dominant ethical theories. All four capture some aspect of what moral behavior involves on a fundamental level.

 But to be clear, our gut-level moral judgments require constant evaluation, articulation, examination, and reevaluation and revision. Moral coherentism isn’t about slapping a philosophical façade on our prejudices. Maybe you start out convinced that homosexuality and abortion and promiscuous sex are definitely and in all cases morally wrong. Before you can extract a workable principle you’ll need to identify a common thread amongst those judgments. Maybe all three are in some sense evolutionarily disadvantageous? Gay sex doesn’t lead to reproduction, abortion hinders reproduction, but promiscuous sex typically promotes it. Hmm. Maybe all three don’t respect human dignity. Abortion (at least in cases where the child is viable and the mother is in no danger) severely neglects the realized and potential dignity of the child, promiscuous sex might be undignified because often times those engaging in it deceive their partners for brief animal pleasure, but there doesn’t seem to be anything inherently undignified about homosexual sex when practiced as an expression of monogamous love.  Or maybe you decide otherwise. The point is, as you go back and forth between your convictions, searching for and testing out different guiding principles, you may find that your baseline judgments aren’t so certain after all. Maybe homosexuality or some forms of abortion or promiscuous sex winds up not being as bad as you originally thought. Or maybe all three are even worse than you originally thought! The upshot is, moral coherentism is about developing coherence between our considered judgments and overarching ethical principles, not  rationalizing our biases. Both ends of the equation are subject to revision.

            So that’s ethics in a nutshell. Since it’s the best we can do (and because philosophers demand reasons for everything), ethicists use their minds to solve moral questions rather than blindly following the crowd or religion. (Actually, many ethicists do indeed defer to religion in their personal lives, but they still abide by the rules of professional ethics when acting as professional ethicists.) Four theories dominate ethics—Kantianism, consequentialism, care ethics and virtue ethics. When it comes to applying those theories and making concrete judgments, one strategy is to consider what each theory would have us do, and act according to whichever option gets the most net support. And while we shouldn’t allow our raw emotions to control everything we think and do, we should pay close attention to our carefully considered moral judgments, and make sure our moral decisions don’t contradict our most fundamental moral dedications. Any ethical theory that does conflict with our bedrock, reflective moral convictions probably needs revising, and we can even develop ethical theories of our own by balancing our judgments with candidate ethical principles.