Commitment Goods and the Demands of Morality
It has become fashionable in debates about the demands of morality to suggest that recognizing the necessary conditions for possessing a certain class of goods requires us to accept limits on what morality can require of us. These goods, which Cullity calls "commitment goods," cannot be possessed by those who have certain attitudes, including a willingness to abandon those goods if an impartially better alternative is available. Personal relationships such as friendships are often cited as an example of a commitment good. Proponents of the view that the value of commitment goods grounds limits on moral demands claim that one cannot be a genuine friend to a person and at the same time have an attitude toward the friendship such that, were a more rewarding potential friendship to become available, one would abandon one's current friendship in favor of the impartially better alternative. Similarly, they claim, one cannot be a true friend if one is willing to act in a way that would have the effect of undermining the friendship in order to, say, save the lives of several children in the world's most impoverished regions. This being the case, and given the extraordinary value and central place of friendships in most of our lives, any view of morality's demands that implies that we are required to abandon our friendships, for any reason, must be rejected, because in order to comply with such a requirement we would have to have attitudes toward our relationships that are fundamentally incompatible with genuine friendship.
I think this argument fails, for several reasons. First, it portrays friendship as involving, and indeed requiring, a kind of pathological devotion to one's friends that is clearly not required to be a genuine friend, and indeed would preclude one from enjoying many of the things that are valuable about good friendships, such as the ability to reflect openly with one's friends about the place of the friendship in one's life and its impact on one's other commitments, such as one's career, or one's moral life. On this picture any consideration of the impact of one's friendships on other values, including one's ability to do morally good things such as contribute to saving the lives of impoverished children, would undermine the status of one's friendships as friendships, and therefore we can't, according to the view's proponents, be morally required to engage in such reflection.
But in fact we do engage in this kind of reflection all the time, and it's not too difficult to imagine cases in which, even if one does not do so, he is clearly morally required to. We actually engage in such reflection whenever we weigh the value of certain friendships against the value of an action that we know or believe will result in the dissolution of those friendships. I knew that if I moved to Berkeley for grad school rather than staying in New York, that several of my friendships with people in New York would likely dissolve. Some friendships are such that they can only be sustained if the friends live in close proximity, and this does not necessarily make them any less valuable than any other friendships. It would be crazy, however, to think that if one has such a friend, that the friendship no longer counts as a friendship the instant that one considers moving away. It was perfectly appropriate to have an attitude toward my friends in New York such that I considered the benefits of moving to Berkeley even though I knew that doing so would result in the dissolution of the friendships. And even the fact that my decision was an easy one doesn't undermine the fact that my friendships were genuine while they lasted.
To relate this point to specifically moral requirements to consider whether to maintain a friendship, consider the case of two mobsters who are close friends. Imagine that one of the two suddenly recognizes that it is morally wrong to engage in much of the behavior that he does in his role in the organization, but also realizes that if he were to leave the organization then his friendship would dissolve. It seems that those who claim that morality cannot require us to give up commitment goods must say that the mobster is not morally required to leave the mob; furthermore they seem commited to saying that merely considering doing so, in the light of his newfound moral beliefs, would require having an objectionable attitude toward one's friendship. But can we really accept this view? I think the answer is clearly that we cannot.
There are two responses that a defender of the view that I'm arguing against might make to my example, but both are question-begging.
First, one might simply claim that one can be required to abandon a friendship when maintaining it would require one to engage in conduct that is clearly immoral, such as participating in mob hits, but cannot be required to do so when maintaining them would not require one to engage in such immoral behavior. But this would be to beg the question against proponents of the Extreme Demand such as myself, because what we claim is that letting others die when we could easily contribute to saving their lives is clearly immoral. If we're right about that then this response to my example would also imply that many of the friendships that those who appeal to friendship in arguments against the Extreme Demand are concerned to shield from the demands of morality will be implicated as well: those that would dissolve if one gave up his country club membership, or if one were no longer willing to eat at expensive restaurants, or if one took up volunteer work in lieu of watching a shared favorite television show.
The second way that one might object is to claim that my example is flawed because the mobster who does not have the change in moral beliefs cannot be a genuine friend at all, due to the fact that he engages in immoral behavior that affects others. On this view being a friend requires that one also stand in more general moral relations to the rest of humanity; if one lacks whatever concern for others that is morally required, then one simply cannot be a friend. Our mobster can be required to leave the mob because his fellow member is not really his friend at all; he can do so without undermining a commitment good, and an attitude that includes a willingness to rethink his mob affiliation is appropriate since there is, and could be, no genuine friendship undermined by that attitude. Again, this is question begging against the Extreme Demand because if the Extreme Demand is the right account of morality's demands, and if friendship requires that one stand in more general moral relations to all of humanity, then anyone who does not comply with the Extreme Demand cannot be a genuine friend, and therefore opponents of the Extreme Demand cannot appeal to the value of friendship to argue against the Extreme Demand. Both this and the previous objection implicitly presuppose a view of morality that is less demanding than the Extreme Demand in arguments that are intended to show that the Extreme Demand must be rejected.
Let me conclude by noting that I find the view that forms the basis of the second objection, namely that being a friend requires that one stand in more general moral relations to the rest of humanity, pretty obviously false. I see no reason to think that two mobsters, or two socialites indifferent to the plight of the rest of humanity, or two racists, etc., can't be genuine friends. Such individuals can care deeply about each other, can share in many valuable activities, can provide shape and meaning to each other's lives (and can do so in ways that are not in themselves morally objectionable), etc. If I'm right about this, then it's obvious that we can be morally required to abandon our friendships; our mobster is clearly morally required to leave the mob. And if we can, in some cases, be morally required to abandon our friendships, then determining in which cases we are so required will involve weighing the value of specific friendships against other values that might be realized were we to give them up. And as I pointed out above, a willingness to engage in such weighing need not involve an objectionable alienation from our friendships that would render them not friendships at all; on the contrary, a willingness to reflect carefully on our friendships (sometimes even to do so with our friends) is one of the things that makes our friendships (or at least those that can survive such reflection) so valuable.
I think this argument fails, for several reasons. First, it portrays friendship as involving, and indeed requiring, a kind of pathological devotion to one's friends that is clearly not required to be a genuine friend, and indeed would preclude one from enjoying many of the things that are valuable about good friendships, such as the ability to reflect openly with one's friends about the place of the friendship in one's life and its impact on one's other commitments, such as one's career, or one's moral life. On this picture any consideration of the impact of one's friendships on other values, including one's ability to do morally good things such as contribute to saving the lives of impoverished children, would undermine the status of one's friendships as friendships, and therefore we can't, according to the view's proponents, be morally required to engage in such reflection.
But in fact we do engage in this kind of reflection all the time, and it's not too difficult to imagine cases in which, even if one does not do so, he is clearly morally required to. We actually engage in such reflection whenever we weigh the value of certain friendships against the value of an action that we know or believe will result in the dissolution of those friendships. I knew that if I moved to Berkeley for grad school rather than staying in New York, that several of my friendships with people in New York would likely dissolve. Some friendships are such that they can only be sustained if the friends live in close proximity, and this does not necessarily make them any less valuable than any other friendships. It would be crazy, however, to think that if one has such a friend, that the friendship no longer counts as a friendship the instant that one considers moving away. It was perfectly appropriate to have an attitude toward my friends in New York such that I considered the benefits of moving to Berkeley even though I knew that doing so would result in the dissolution of the friendships. And even the fact that my decision was an easy one doesn't undermine the fact that my friendships were genuine while they lasted.
To relate this point to specifically moral requirements to consider whether to maintain a friendship, consider the case of two mobsters who are close friends. Imagine that one of the two suddenly recognizes that it is morally wrong to engage in much of the behavior that he does in his role in the organization, but also realizes that if he were to leave the organization then his friendship would dissolve. It seems that those who claim that morality cannot require us to give up commitment goods must say that the mobster is not morally required to leave the mob; furthermore they seem commited to saying that merely considering doing so, in the light of his newfound moral beliefs, would require having an objectionable attitude toward one's friendship. But can we really accept this view? I think the answer is clearly that we cannot.
There are two responses that a defender of the view that I'm arguing against might make to my example, but both are question-begging.
First, one might simply claim that one can be required to abandon a friendship when maintaining it would require one to engage in conduct that is clearly immoral, such as participating in mob hits, but cannot be required to do so when maintaining them would not require one to engage in such immoral behavior. But this would be to beg the question against proponents of the Extreme Demand such as myself, because what we claim is that letting others die when we could easily contribute to saving their lives is clearly immoral. If we're right about that then this response to my example would also imply that many of the friendships that those who appeal to friendship in arguments against the Extreme Demand are concerned to shield from the demands of morality will be implicated as well: those that would dissolve if one gave up his country club membership, or if one were no longer willing to eat at expensive restaurants, or if one took up volunteer work in lieu of watching a shared favorite television show.
The second way that one might object is to claim that my example is flawed because the mobster who does not have the change in moral beliefs cannot be a genuine friend at all, due to the fact that he engages in immoral behavior that affects others. On this view being a friend requires that one also stand in more general moral relations to the rest of humanity; if one lacks whatever concern for others that is morally required, then one simply cannot be a friend. Our mobster can be required to leave the mob because his fellow member is not really his friend at all; he can do so without undermining a commitment good, and an attitude that includes a willingness to rethink his mob affiliation is appropriate since there is, and could be, no genuine friendship undermined by that attitude. Again, this is question begging against the Extreme Demand because if the Extreme Demand is the right account of morality's demands, and if friendship requires that one stand in more general moral relations to all of humanity, then anyone who does not comply with the Extreme Demand cannot be a genuine friend, and therefore opponents of the Extreme Demand cannot appeal to the value of friendship to argue against the Extreme Demand. Both this and the previous objection implicitly presuppose a view of morality that is less demanding than the Extreme Demand in arguments that are intended to show that the Extreme Demand must be rejected.
Let me conclude by noting that I find the view that forms the basis of the second objection, namely that being a friend requires that one stand in more general moral relations to the rest of humanity, pretty obviously false. I see no reason to think that two mobsters, or two socialites indifferent to the plight of the rest of humanity, or two racists, etc., can't be genuine friends. Such individuals can care deeply about each other, can share in many valuable activities, can provide shape and meaning to each other's lives (and can do so in ways that are not in themselves morally objectionable), etc. If I'm right about this, then it's obvious that we can be morally required to abandon our friendships; our mobster is clearly morally required to leave the mob. And if we can, in some cases, be morally required to abandon our friendships, then determining in which cases we are so required will involve weighing the value of specific friendships against other values that might be realized were we to give them up. And as I pointed out above, a willingness to engage in such weighing need not involve an objectionable alienation from our friendships that would render them not friendships at all; on the contrary, a willingness to reflect carefully on our friendships (sometimes even to do so with our friends) is one of the things that makes our friendships (or at least those that can survive such reflection) so valuable.
posted by Brian Berkey at 1:46 AM
http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=18266847&postID=7192617907089105888&isPopup=true Comments:
"morally required to abandon our friendships?"
Could we also be "morally required to abandon our families?"
Could we also be "morally required to abandon our Beloved?"
Is this coherent to you? It's intelligible, as far as what the words mean, but conceptually it strikes me as incoherent.
Of course, (i) we evaluate and value and re-value our friends, family, and loves, and perhaps (ii) the emotionally-void Stoic can do so behind the impartial "veil of ignorance," but while I grant the former, I seriously doubt the latter. Indeed, the relation of loves, family, and friends allows us to "cut them more slack," because we favor them over others (say, those in Calcutta, Moscow, and Peoria).
But, I cannot even imagine ourselves to be "morally required to abandon X" where X = Beloved, Friends, Family. I can imagine if X became cruel and harmful, I might intervene to get them help. I can imagine, failing that, my deciding to sever our association. But being "morally required to do so?"
GS,
My view is not that we ought to evaluate our friendships and other close relationships behind a veil of ignorance in order to determine whether to continue to pursue the relationship. We all have dispositions to, as you say, "cut them more slack", to attempt to help them if they are engaging in harmful or self-destructive behavior, and not to abandon them whenever doing so would be advantageous or impartially better. And I think it's a good thing, and a necessary condition for genuine friendship, that we have such dispositions.
My point was more modest, specifically that there are times when it is appropriate to reflect on one's friendships in a more impartial (though not thoroughly impartial) way than we ordinarily do. And in some of these cases it will turn out that we ought to choose actions that will have the effect of ending some of our friendships; this was one of the points of my example of deciding to move to Berkeley, and of the case of the mobster. It's good that we're strongly disposed not to abandon our friends, and that we don't normally think of our friendships as values to be weighed like all others in impartial calculations (if this is how we thought of them we couldn't have genuine friendships). But our devotion to our friends should not be so pathological that we never, under any circumstances, weigh the value of our friendships against other values. If we had such devotion, I couldn't have even considered moving to Berkeley, and my mobster couldn't have even considered leaving the mob.
Under some circumstances we can be morally required to abandon our friendships; but under normal circumstances it's good that we're disposed not to.
I fully agree that we "do," not that we "ought," to do a sort of cost-benefit analysis, such as leaving a network of friends (a good) for achieving a fine education (a good). It's the "moral" aspect I find troubling.
For example, perhaps I have a friend to which I am generally committed to help, but this friend starts to take abusive advantage of our friendship, and I decide the abusiveness is not worth the hassles, and thus decide to terminate the friendship. (I trust the parity of this example still applies to yours.)
Clearly, I am making value judgments about my friend, his worth, the costs of his abuse, and whether it "all adds up." In economic jargon, I'm performing the standard cost-benefit analysis (decision theory), and have tabulated that the costs of X now exceed the benefits of X.
We frequently make these CBA (cost-benefit analyses) throughout our lives (e.g., whether to stay married or not, to change jobs or not, to relocate or not, etc.). And, yes, these analyses require our valuation of the pros and cons. But where is the "duty" to perform such CBA (which morality requires)?
CBA one of our many different axiological systems, that also include ethics, morality, politics, friendships, aesthetics, etc. But to equate a CBA with a moral duty to do so strikes me as extremely odd.
The only sense in which I can possibly conceive in which I might be morally required to abandon a friendship is if the harms s/he inflicts on me or others that in turn requires the judgment that I turn him/her into the law and sever our association. Even so, to choose that course of action would be a three-fold act: (i) contact law enforcement; (2) severance of our friendship, (3) or both. I may choose to or not for a myriad of reasons (e.g., CBA), but I cannot think of any "moral duty" that would require that I do so.
Am I far off of the point you are trying to make?
GS,
I'm attempting to make several points. First, I claim that because we do sometimes legitimately choose actions that we know will result in the dissolution of genuine friendships (e.g. my moving to Berkeley), it can't be that friendship requires an attitude toward one's friends such that one will never even entertain such possibilities (friendship does not require pathological devotion). Second, I claim that there are times when we are clearly morally required to choose actions that will result in the dissolution of friendships (e.g. my mobster case, which is basically your case of turning a friend in to law enforcement). If the only way to maintain a friendship is to continue participating in mob hits, one is morally required to abandon the friendship; I would think even you would agree with this. Third, I claim that since it is the case that we can sometimes be morally required to abandon friendships, determining exactly when we are so required demands that we do some serious moral philosophy, rather than just pointing to the value of friendship and claiming it as a trump card against the demands of impartial morality. If I'm right that there's no moral significance to, for example, the distinction between killing and letting die, it seems that we must accept that we can be morally required to abandon friendships that can only survive if, for example, we keep our country club memberships or continue to dine at expensive restaurants. Spending money on such things involves us in letting many impoverished people around the world die needlessly, so morality can require us not to do so, even if this will result in the dissolution of friendships.
I may be mistaken, but the myriad of claims you're making seems designed to "fit" a utilitarian calculus, as if one calculus fits all sizes, incorporates different systems of value, and, then, like a computer algorithm, spits out a "solution."
Let me cite an actual situation: In the Sixties, I accompanied several adults to Atlanta, GA, as a teen. When I "inferred" that blacks deliberately left the sidewalk and stepped in the street as white men passed, I went ballistic. Such overt racism, I thought, was confined to Selma, AL, not overt on Peachtree Street in Atlanta. I reacted by pulling black men onto the sidewalk, when one of the adults stated, "leave him alone, that's where he belongs."
Unfamiliar with such overt racism, despite "some" acquaintance with this adult's racists' tendencies, who now made this grotesquely racist "comment," instantly "separated" him from me, notwithstanding all the due "deference" I was expected to give adults. I probably did not "calculate" the consequences; frankly, my sense of justice was offended.
Now, given this "example," where is my "moral" duty? To defer to adults? To decry racism? To reach into Atlanta's streets and yank the black man back onto the sidewalk? To mind my "p's" and "q's" like a good boy until I grow into adulthood? To calculate the "offenses" by the racist adult, to the black man? To defer to adults in their company, as a young teen is expected? To respect my parent in the face of an adult racist, while an adult's racism is so overt, that it offends and causes reaction? Etc? How many factors in the calculus of the "greatest good for the greatest number" am I suppose to "hold in my teenage head," while witness to such repugnant racism?
For me, then, as, now: Nothing justifies that racism, because it was and is an intolerable harm to others (excluding my own personal offense calculutions, excluding the "offense" I might have apparently caused the racist adult, who reveled in amusement, excluding the terror I may have inadvertently caused to an unknown black man in Atlanta, and excluding the possible "offense" I might have caused to an embarrassed parent, who might have thought I crossed the parent/child divide.
I have not included all the other "axiological" systems of the event that could be included in the calculus, but if I encountered the same situation today, I'd respond in the same manner.
Harming Another trumps my ethical values to parents, to those who are "in Rome, should act like Romans," to acting "as if" one man should know he cannot make a difference, etc., etc. In this case, a moral duty trumped all of my other values, many of which I held and still hold today. But "harming another" is a limit I cannot, nor will not, indulge, whatever the circumstance, whatever the age, whatever my filial duties to parents, whatever some "calculus" asks of me to calculate, even if I violate some social propriety.
Maybe some people can pull a veil of ignorance and act impartially in a calculus of "more good for the greater number," while abiding terrible injustices. I doubt most of us can do that, and I surely do not want to encourage people to believe they can. When an egregious injustice intrudes, as in this case, my moderation of virtue in a mean is trumped by "excess." No one can harm another. Period. That is a universal duty we "owe" each other without exception, without resort to a "calculus," without any qualifications.
But barring these types of egregious harms, I defer to the "mean" between excess and deficiency with practical deliberation for the most prudent choice (not the "best" outcome). I gladly incorporate the "other's perspective" (empathetically) in my evaluations, and as the situation allows, and I try to choose the "best" choice available to me at the time in the circumstances.
You may notice several axiological values in operation in this example, and I truly hope so. While "one calculus fits all" may be the utilitarian scheme, I generally prefer virtue and benevolence as my overall scheme, but when "harm" is invoked, "those other bets are off," and the unjust harms become the laser focus. I prefer practical reason to evaluate the situation, and proffer any variety of solutions and actions; but, when another person harms another person, for whatever reason or circumstance, my "moral duty" trumps my practical reason and all calculi to find the greatest utility. That "failsafe" backup is not my preferred, or even my general, stance; but harm another (or me), and all bets are off.
In my conceptual scheme of things, a cost-benefit analysis over such issues of relocation, which college, which friends is generally quite useful and successful. But when anyone "pulls" a harm, all bets are off. And in these pluralistic axiological schemes, I feel I've accomplished not only "my moral duty," but through prudence and empathy achieved far more than a hyper-rationalist's calculus. If I am only "fooling" myself, at least I have not invoked a "one-world government" to accomplish what an individual alone feels important to him (Robert Wright's and Peter Singer and their calculi be damned).
GS,
I have to say, I really can't tell what the point you were trying to make with your racism in Atlanta example was. I completely agree with you that the attitudes expressed by the adult you mention are despicable, and in my view you acted entirely appropriately. Respecting your elders, even when they are racists, is of course not something that I would endorse, and I can't imagine why you would think that anything I've said commits me to not opposing the horrific racism that you describe. Indeed my arguments are precisely intended to undermine the view that we ought to defer to racists in any case at all; if your parents or close friends are racists, then morality can require that you sacrifice your relationship(s), precisely because racism is so despicable. The attitude that I object to is the kind of pathological devotion to friends and relatives that seems to be suggested by those who oppose my view; if one's close relatives or friends are themselves sufficiently immoral, then one ought not remain devoted to them, and morality can require that we rethink the value of those relationships.
On the point about harming others, again, I'll suggest a clear counterexample. If the only way to prevent many deaths is to inflict a paper cut on an innocent person, I think it's obvious that morality requires us to inflict the harm, even if the person who we must harm refuses to consent. Utility may not be the only value, but deontological restrictions that ignore considerations of utility are a kind of pathological rule worship that seems to me quite absurd.
Perhaps the Atlanta example is too complex (which is why I used it), but the larger point is that our values are complex. Moreover, our "methods" of value are equally complex.
In "ordinary" circumstances of ethical choice, I prefer the standard practical reasoning of the "mean" between the extremes of "excess and deficiency." Where overt harms, occur, then "moderation" may not be the most prudent choice (which even Aristotle insists)and a moral duty to prevent and avoid harm come into play. In relocation, friendship, and college choices, a different value system (cost-benefit analysis) is often the value system that is operative as decision theorists suggest. And when two harms are inflicted, we resort precisely to the "greater harm," because the "costs are greater." In a political value system, I tend to prefer the utilitarian calculus, deferring to majority rule, provided minority rights are guaranteed. In the company of parents, I usually defer to parents as "parents" deserving of respect.
In each of the above cases, a value judgment is made, but based on different axiological methods. What I found troubling by your example is your conflation, to me, at least, of a cost-benefit analysis to a moral analysis. One size valuation has never worked, and I'm sure you don't see yourself doing it, but different contexts, situations, and values (including methods of valuation) operate in tandem, but are not the same. For example, the racist adult could be approached "prudently," or the "harm avoidance" could trump prudence, provoke action that a more balanced, nuanced value might tolerate as "part of the whole fabric of the system."
My "target" in these observations is a perception that your stuffing too many "value" systems into "one." To claim a moral necessity in what most would consider a simple cost-benefit analysis appears reductionistic, as if some "utility" requires some actions that most of us find more flexible in a cost-benefit analysis, has become an inflexible standing as a moral imperative. They don't.
Morality, ethics, cost-benefit, political calculus, deference, benevolence, and a host of other axiological systems co-exist, but to make a cost-benefit analysis a moral imperative, or to conflate ethics with morality, is a categorical mistake (to quote Ryle's famous phrase). Ethics, for one thing, is teleological; morality, for another, is deontological. One is prescriptive; the other is proscriptive. One is practical; the other is an obligation. To "push" the one into the other is the problem, not that our decisions would or would not result in the same outcome, but that we'd arrive at them differently. Not all value judgments stem from the same motivations, the same requirements of reason, the same degree of empathy, the same political considerations, the same anything.
Values, like humans, are pluralistically diverse, and value judgments are arrived at by different methods of valuation, depending on a myriad of factors. Too many of your examples seem to be "moral," when they sure would not be for "me." But, then, I admit of only one moral imperative: Do no harm. Utilitarians, conversely, calculate the consequences "as if" different axiological methods do not apply. I suggest they do.
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home