Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? The Controversial Peter Singer
Recently, I had the opportunity
to eat, drink and make moral calculations with philosopher Peter Singer. The
average person might think hanging out with a philosopher—even a renowned and
accomplished one—would be a non-event or cause a pain in the brain, as in the
soreness that can develop after a college class of induction, deduction and
cerebral gymnastics. But as a lifelong fiancée of philosophy, I was thrilled
that Dr. Singer agreed to meet with me.
Singer has the distinction of
being the epiphany-trigger in my life. My first experience with him was on
paper. In 1985, I read his book, In Defense of Animals, in which he
talks about “speciesism,” a prejudice similar to racism and sexism in which
humans believe they are superior to other species. Singer argues that nonhumans
are of equal value to humans and worthy of equal consideration and that an
animal’s ability to feel pain should give him protection under the moral umbrella
that humans typically reserve for themselves. This idea was like a starter pistol, signaling me to begin my mission to
help the truly voiceless and defenseless members of society. I stopped eating
meat that day.
When I heard that the normally
reclusive Singer—who lives in Australia and New Jersey and who is called the
Father of the Animal Rights movement-- would be speaking at the Getty Museum in
Los Angeles about animals and art, I figured why not take him out for a bite?
Controversial utilitarians have to eat, too.
Singer is controversial mostly
because of his position on infanticide and euthanasia. For example, he holds it
is morally proper in some circumstances to kill a severely incapacitated infant
whose life would cause immense suffering for himself and his family. Singer
comes to this conclusion in the same way he comes to every conclusion: by
embarking upon a utilitarian calculation.
A utilitarian deems an action
right or wrong based upon the consequences of that action. He tallies the
positives (hedons) and negatives (dolors) of the situation in advance and
selects the course of action that is likely to result in the most positives or
hedons.
Deontological moral theory is,
in effect, the opposite of utilitarianism. Deontologists are hedon and dolor
haters, and argue that consequences are inconsequential in the moral realm.
Deontological theory states that people have certain duties or moral
obligations which are based upon some absolute authority; the authority might
be religion, universal reason, natural rights, natural law, or some other
entity altogether. A deontologist would most likely believe it is wrong to kill
an infant, regardless of the child’s level of disability, a precept that might
be supported by Scripture.
In order to impress Dr. Singer,
I figured I had better be on top of the “utilitarian calculation” game. No
slacking. I had to be on my guard every second, ready to shift my actions to
the right “utilitarian” course of action. I did not want this great philosopher
to construe his time spent with me as in any way immoral.
The first order of business was
to choose a restaurant. Singer had only put forth one requirement: there had to
be a vegan entrée on the menu. But as a
good utilitarian, I knew I had to weigh a parade of other factors. His hotel
was in Santa Monica, so I chose a place nearby so as to save fuel and not
contribute to global warming. I selected a totally vegan place, as a gesture to
encourage exemplary establishments to be fruitful and multiply. I ultimately decided
it was ok for the restaurant to be situated in Santa Monica after grappling
with whether the area is more or less moral than surrounding communities.
I picked up Singer from his
hotel and flipped on the car’s air conditioning because I wanted my important
guest to be comfortable. In a polite way, he explained how my action was
destroying the environment and suggested we simply lower the windows. I
couldn’t believe it; I had already screwed up! I quietly chastised myself for
failing to make the necessary moral calculation.
My second test came when I was
confronted with whether I should make a left turn; and in so doing, hold up a
long line of vehicles behind me. The alternative was to drive all the way to a
signal light, turn onto a less busy street, do a three-point turn into a
driveway, go back to the original intersection and make a right turn, an
undertaking that would take an extra five minutes. Most people in our “I’m
entitled,” me-first society feel morally justified in holding up a long line of
other drivers, some who may be rushing to an emergency or who may be late for a
critical appointment. But would a utilitarian come to this conclusion? I
decided not and opted to inconvenience only my erudite passenger and myself.
The vegan restaurant was like a
beehive, bustling with customers and lean on seating. We were directed to an
airless corner where we were expected to jam ourselves into a pint-sized table.
Part of me wanted to put down my philosophical foot, refuse the cramped
conditions and demand a roomy, nearby table. But I heeded to utilitarianism,
resolved that a party of four deserved the extra space. As the heat intensified
during the meal, I began to regret my decision because it was “dolor city” in
that stuffy corner.
Singer sipped on his mixture of
beet, apple and carrot juice as he explained why he was leaning towards
supporting Barak Obama for President. We discussed Congress’ proposed
immigration legislation and how the issue is dealt with in Australia where his
three kids live.
When we exhausted the media’s
prized topics, we delved into the hypotheticals that make philosophy a cocktail
party favorite; such as “if a trolley is rolling down a hill, should you let it
kill your own child or a stranger’s child” and “is there a difference between
killing someone and letting him die?” We even explored the always-popular free
will debate. I asked Singer if he was choosing to have an enchilada or whether
he was merely picking the entrée as a pawn of the universe. He thought he was choosing,
but I argued that he was probably just a chess piece in a board game called
“life.”
After spending two hours with
Dr. Singer, what struck me most about the man was his humility, flexibility and
open-mindedness. He is able to examine an issue with a fresh pad of paper. He
lacks the cumbersome, preconceived ideas that stalk most individuals; and he is
willing, even eager, to alter his opinion when new data and better arguments
come to the fore. I find many people to be the reverse: stubborn, immovable
objects, bogged down by pages and pages of notes, unwilling to white them out
under any circumstance.
Perhaps this illuminates the
distinction between the utilitarian and deontological mind. Utilitarianism by its very nature welcomes,
even mandates, ideological pliability while deontological ethics thrives on
being a moral tank, oblivious to its environment.
Society reacts to the
utilitarian / deontological dance. In The Sacred Canopy, Peter Berger
says that people invent ideas, but forget they are the architects of these
ideas, later attributing them to an outside, religious source. Non-religious
precepts seem to migrate down a similar path. They become rooted social norms
like a brazen statue at the center of the town square. They may emanate from a
deontological or utilitarian source, but they become more deontological,
immutable and transcendent as they stand erect at the center of people’s lives.
The statue is virtually impervious to the elements, in part because the average
townsperson leans towards resisting change. It is easy and comforting to
reinforce the laws, moral rules, and codes of conduct.
Utilitarianism may receive low
marks in some circles because it has been manipulated to justify actions. We
have all heard excuses like, “I had to cheat on my taxes because I figured the
government has enough money” or “I didn’t return the lost wallet because I
figured I need the money more than the other person does.” This “figuring” or
calculating is a misapplication of the utilitarian method; it does not reflect
what an impartial observer would decide. It reflects only the outcome the thief
seeks: to avoid taxes or keep the lost wallet.
Despite periodic misuse,
utilitarianism has a critical role to play in society. It can chisel away at or
altogether overturn deontological values, which philosopher Jeremy Benthem
claims are merely camouflage for the popular morality of the day.
Utilitarianism allows undiscovered evidence and improved arguments to emerge.
It is our best hope for a improved future, and we should recognize it as
such.
I thank Dr. Singer for being a living example of the flexibility of utilitarianism. And from now on, when someone asks me to guess who’s coming to dinner, I will hope it’s a utilitarian. Especially a controversial one.










