Human Life and Cat Life: Not The Same in Humanist Ethics

Here’s the situation: Your beloved cat and somebody you recognize as a known criminal have both somehow fallen into a lake and will drown if you don’t take immediate action. They are so far apart you realize that if you go to save one, the other will not survive. Which life would you expect the humanist to save?

This choice between preserving a human life and that of a cat may seem at first to be a real no-brainer. Everybody knows humans, even flawed ones, are more important than cats, even cute ones, right? Wrong! As a matter of fact, the argument in favor of saving the cat at the cost of a human life was presented in an article in The Humanist magazine by a frequent contributor.

The article to which I refer appeared in the May/June 1998 issue of The Humanist. Written by Barbara Dority, president of the Humanists of Washington, this piece was entitled Humanism and Evolutionary Humility. While I have admired many of the articles Dority has written for The Humanist, I found a number of difficulties in this piece. To arrive at the conclusion that felines may take priority over humans, she argues that humanism views Homo sapiens as just another animal among the many that populate the earth. Starting from a well-founded concern for the ecology and the preservation of endangered species, Dority concludes that humanism’s involvement with these issues has been "inadequate" and states that, "it is time to clarify its position on this fundamental subject." Dority’s "clarification" features the dislocation of humanity from its central position in our ethical system. This ethical re-orientation has startling implications, and, contrary to Dority’s claims, does not accurately represent mainstream humanist thinking.

Allow me to provide a little background. Dority, my wife Olga Bourlin, and I have engaged in a dialogue for some months concerning a specific ethical dilemma originally presented by Gerry Bruder, a columnist for the Secular Humanist Press, a quarterly publication edited by Dority. Bruder proposed that, being liberated from rigid ethical guidelines imposed by religious belief systems, he would feel justified in valuing the life of his dog over that of a human. He specifically stated that if he found himself in a situation where he could save the life of either his dog or a stranger, he would choose his dog. I found this position to be inconsistent with every interpretation of humanism that I had ever encountered, and both Olga and I wrote articles critical of Bruder’s position on a number of counts. Dority supported Bruder, and further developed the argument that relative to other creatures, humans held no special position in humanist ethics that would preclude sacrificing their lives to save favored animals. It was this thesis that she presented in her article in The Humanist.

In addition to our correspondence with Dority, Olga and I presented our views in several issues of the Secular Humanist Press. By this process we became two of the "few humanists" that Barbara said in her article, "could do with a dose of ecological and evolutionary humility."

At the heart of this issue is the very definition of humanism. Dority attempts to draw some distinction between humanist ethics, in which she acknowledges that human concerns are foremost, and the humanist world-view, in which she suggests that humans are not superior to animals. This latter conception of humans as the equals of animals is employed to resolve Dority’s cat-lover version of Bruder’s dilemma, substituting her cat for Bruder’s drowning dog, and a "despicable" human in place of a stranger.

Contestant	Final Score
Human	0
Cute Kitty	1

A couple of questions immediately leap forth: If humans are not in some very important way more valued than animals ("superior," if you will), why are they the central concern of humanist ethics? More importantly, how can a humanist acknowledge that human welfare is the central ethical value, then state that a cat’s life may have more value than a person’s?

Animals versus People: The Humanistic View

Although the cat-versus-human scenario she proposes is a classic ethical dilemma, Dority performs no specific ethical analysis. Instead she builds a case for her contention that humans "have [no] right to destroy or circumvent the evolutionary potential of another life form." Some aspects of this argument fall well within our expectations for a modern, enlightened view of humanity’s relationship with nature. For instance, Dority states that, "If the welfare of bears or gorillas or lions or the like must be improved in order to prevent the annihilation of their species, and those necessary measures reduce the welfare and quality of life for some humans – then, yes, I do believe that the welfare of these animals is more important than the welfare of some people." Many humanists would agree with such a statement in general terms. Indeed, in the case of preserving some predatory species such as grizzly bears, wolves and alligators, there will certainly be some price to be paid in human lives. The difference is that Dority appears to consider the welfare of endangered species as an end unto itself. The conventional humanist would justify a small loss of human life as an acceptable cost of improving the quality of our environment for the benefit of all.

Apparently the relative character traits of the cat and the human are significant to Dority’s resolution of this ethical dilemma. Dority would favor a supposedly virtuous animal over some humans, saying, "I could never let that guileless little animal drown in order to save any number of thoroughly despicable humans." Beyond the implication that the cat is somehow more morally sound than the human, the rationale for this rather surprising statement is not fully developed, and does not seem to flow from some of the other commentary concerning the value of endangered species. Cats are certainly not endangered. In fact, some might say that our society would benefit if there were fewer cats. While the traditional humanist would weigh the personal and societal consequences of each alternative, Dority instead explains to us only how much the cat means to her personally, telling us that she loves her cat and the various pleasures this animal provides her, pointing out that, "She’s perfectly beautiful, talks to me in tiny mews, and goes to sleep with me most nights." There may be more to Dority’s thinking on this issue, but from what is revealed in the article the only thing we have to justify the remarkable decision to value a cat over a human being is the distaste she feels for some persons versus the love she has for her cats. Although Dority does say that her cat "talks" and is "guileless," there seems to be no real claim that this animal bears any of the traits ethicists have identified in some apes and cetaceans and which some would argue qualify them for special consideration. In other words, the entire issue boils down to which alternative provides Dority and her cat more pleasure or less pain. Humanistic ethical evaluations, however, measure the effects of an action on people other than the person committing the act. It is more than simply determining the preferred effect upon a single individual.

Perhaps Dority, by specifying a "despicable" human as the victim of her preference for her cat, was inferring some social benefit if this person were, in effect, executed. Essentially this could be viewed as the same rationale which would be put forth in justifying capital punishment. From a humanist perspective, therefore, the dilemma would have been misstated, since the benefit of saving a cat’s life would be inconsequential, even if the cat happens to be really, really cute. The argument would center around whether the death of this despicable individual would benefit society, rather than whether the death would be permitted to benefit a cat. Many would argue that there is no benefit to society which would justify the taking of a human life, but at least this discussion would be focused upon elements that have more ethical significance than the cuteness of an animal or the enjoyment derived by its owner. Killing "despicable" individuals for the supposed benefit of society is widely practiced, and, under certain specific circumstances, has support among not a few humanists.

Is "Evolutionary Humility" Consistent with Humanism?

Dority’s efforts to create parity between humans and animals focus on the naturalistic aspects of the humanist world-view. Dority comments that, "classifying ourselves as superior is a highly biased view," and suggests that, "highly evolved brains may prove to be – in the larger context of Earth history – an evolutionary mistake." But do these views really reflect humanist thinking?

On the one hand, Dority admits that humanism "is focused on a concern for the human condition." This concession would seem to settle the issue, but Dority then goes on to characterize humanism as, "distinguish(ing) between naturalism and supernaturalism, not between humans and other living things." The first part of this statement is true, but that does not imply the accuracy of the second point. We already have terms such as "materialist" to define those who see the natural world as all there is. Humanism goes beyond merely rejecting the supernatural and posits a philosophical orientation that is not just focused on the natural world, but specifically on human welfare.

According to Dority, humanism makes no claims for human superiority, although she never explains why humanist ethics repeatedly stresses "human" welfare when some more general term might have been used. Dority asserts, "it is a huge leap from any definition of humanism I’ve ever encountered to the assertion that humans are superior to all other living things." While a strong case may be made that humans are in many ways inferior to other animals in specific ways, in the context of humanist ethics, humans are undoubtedly regarded as superior. Perhaps the dearth of explicit commentary on the superiority of humanity is attributable to an assumption that on this basic issue there need be little discussion. Writers often avoid statements of the obvious. However, it is not difficult to find writings which clearly imply where humanist philosophers stand on this issue. For instance, in Paul Kurtz’s book Forbidden Fruit, The Ethics of Humanism, Kurtz dismisses those who would demand vegetarianism on moral grounds, saying, "We need not take such a radical position, for, as omnivores, humans have historically been hunters and gatherers, and the production of meat has become such an integral part of the world economy that the food supply of large portions of the world would be at stake." In refuting those who object to use of animals for medical experiments, Kurtz says, "such research may be vital on utilitarian grounds for the health of the human species." (p. 195) It therefore appears obvious that Kurtz accepts the superiority of humans.

Dority would have us believe that humanism is neutral regarding her cat-versus-human dilemma, commenting, "humanists rely on individual reflection and independent choice to formulate their own ethical standards and moral judgments . . .our philosophy doesn’t mandate a proper humanist choice." If the choice between the life of a cat and the life of a human cannot be resolved by the application of humanist ethics, then certainly some religionists are correct and humanists have no ethics worth discussing. Fortunately that is not the case. Dority’s characterization implies that humanist ethics is subjective. If this is her intent, it is not supported by any mainline humanist philosopher. Kurtz specifically rules out subjectivism, saying, "Ethical principles are not simply subjective emotional attitudes or states unamenable to any critical justification." (ibid., p. 72) The precise configuration of humanist ethics may be up for debate, but we can at least say that the human condition is its main concern. Therefore while it may be true that ultimately we all do make our own moral decisions, these decisions can be evaluated in light of established humanist standards. Humanist standards are not absolutist, but that is not to say that concepts such as rights, duties and values have no specific meaning to the humanist. These standards are designed to serve human welfare. How is it possible to construct a humanist ethical system that does not? And if it is true that humanists make up their own moral standards as they go along, how can there be said to be any identifiable humanist morality?

Humanist literature can be used to guide us in resolving Dority’s dilemma, and here we will find the unique position of humanity repeated over and over. To quote Frederick Edwords, Executive Director of the American Humanist Association, "We measure the value of a given choice by how it affects human life, and in this we include our individual selves, our families, our society, and the peoples of the earth" (The Humanist Philosophy In Perspective - 1984). This does not preclude placing a high value on animal life and welfare - but not higher than human life. Dority’s citations from Edwords and Corliss Lamont express an appreciation for nature and humanity’s place within it, but do not by any means suggest that humanity is not the central concern of humanism. For instance, as Dority pointed out, in his book The Philosophy of Humanism Lamont observes, "The universe of Nature shows no favoritism toward humans or any other of its creatures," yet earlier in this volume Lamont had explicitly cited human welfare as the chief focus of humanism, saying, "The supreme ethical aim of Humanism is, in fact, the this-earthly well-being of all mankind." Lamont further elaborates (p. 241), "Humanism believes that in ethical training . . .equal emphasis should be laid on the individual’s relation to society, his unending debt to the collective culture of mankind and his corresponding obligation to serve the common good." This single-minded concern for human welfare is critical to any definition of humanism. Certainly this is why we call it "humanism." Therefore ethical systems which do not value human welfare above all else may perhaps be materialistic, naturalistic, atheistic or even hedonistic, but cannot be fairly termed humanistic by any conventional measure.

The Flawed Concept of Speciesism

Dority uses the term "speciesism" to refer to the notion of human superiority, saying, " Speciesism is often justified by claims that other sentient beings don’t feel pain or have emotions or intelligence or courage as we do. (Need we remind ourselves that this kind of thinking caused otherwise decent people to support slavery?)" This analogy of speciesism to racism is invalid, and actually insulting. Believing that dogs and cats don’t have emotions, courage and intelligence as do humans is nothing like thinking that black people don’t possess these qualities. Recognizing the falsehood that Africans were less than fully human should not blind us to the fact that there are "lower" animals who do not have consciousness or self-awareness, much less such concepts as time, death, morality and altruism. Perhaps there are non-human species out there that do possess these traits, and, to some extent, certain animals may approach, though not very closely, humanity in some of these characteristics. To the extent that other species do to some degree achieve such distinguishing qualities as self-awareness, their position in our moral calculations is enhanced. In this sense our obligation is not so much to our species, per se, but rather to other thinking, moral creatures.

Any moral system that does not somehow distinguish between species would be virtually impracticable since "speciesism" is such an integral part of nature. Indeed, the course of life on earth could be largely defined as the struggle among species. Richard Conniff, writing for the journal Audubon (Vol. 92(6):120-133;1990), summed up the moral irony inherent in charges of speciesism: "How could animal liberationists argue on the one hand that humans were merely a part of nature, no better or worse than other animals, and on the other that our species alone was obliged to give up practices which it naturally evolved, like killing and eating animals and wearing their skins? How could they argue that we have a high moral obligation to treat animals more humanely than they would treat us or each other?" Of course, humans are, in a certain sense, above nature, able to overcome our natural programming and adopt behaviors apparently not assigned by our heritage. We may determine that we have a moral obligation to other creatures, and ecological concern can certainly be inferred from the humanist philosphy. But to say that such an obligation could transcend even the value of human life makes little sense from a humanist perspective.

If one does not assign some relative value to the lives of different species, even conducting routine activities such as driving an auto becomes problematic. Would you really drive your car if the mice, rabbits, squirrels, opossums, birds or even perhaps the occasional cat whose life you ended to get to your destination had the same value as a human? In 30 years of driving I’ve killed a couple of these unfortunate creatures that I know of. There are undoubtedly millions of these little lives sacrificed each year so that we may transport ourselves in speed and comfort. If these were human lives, we’d all have to start walking or pedaling instead.

Dority, as a cat owner, would face a different sort of problem. Cat owners have traditionally been forced to sacrifice the lives of other animals to sustain their pets. Unless they are fed a recently-developed synthetic dietary supplement, each of her six beloved pets, as highly evolved and specialized carnivores, must consume meat to remain healthy. Vegetarian cats have a way of quickly becoming dead cats. Cats are notorious "speciesists," as their owners must be, as well. How does one feed such a pride a natural diet without at some point deciding that feline life is more important than the animals which must be killed to feed it? If there is virtue in "ecological humility," does it make sense to remove animals such as tuna from the environment to feed domestic pets? If the ecology is our primary concern rather than the pleasure and satisfaction of human masters, is it rational to divert natural resources to cows or pigs so that they may be killed to provide nourishment for yet other animals which live outside the natural environment? Would a devout ecologist send out boats to catch Charlie the Tuna to feed Morris the Cat? Dority might answer, "Sorry, Charlie." Considering that she is at least ambiguous about the relative values of human life and cat life, the thought of Dority and her carniphile cats in a "Donner party" scenario are a little frightening.

As a further sidenote, cats threaten the ecology in other ways, as well. Even supposedly "vegetarian" housecats are a threat to the natural environment if permitted to roam outside, as at least some of Dority's cats do. Part-time predation by pet cats take a tremendous toll on wildlife, killing many millions of small animals each year ( http://myfwc.com/cats/). This ranks them well ahead of any oil spill as a man-made disaster for the ecology. If humans are said to rank no higher that other creatures, can the pleasure that cats provide them justify this level of carnage?

Dority attempts to link the primacy of human concerns, based upon the realization of human "superiority," to a lack of concern for the ecology, saying that, "blinkered conceit and ecological arrogance should not be part of the humanist philosophy." In fact, there need be no conflict between humanism’s promotion of the welfare of humanity and preservation of the ecology, since these two concerns are in fact inseparable. This is the essential point made in the Humanist Manifesto II when it says, "we should perceive ourselves as integral to the sources of our being in nature." In making human life and welfare its primary concerns, humanism is hardly saying that other forms of life can be wasted for our short-term gain. The purpose of the humanist view of ecology is not to have more trees simply for the sake of the trees, but to provide a healthy, rich, beautiful environment for humanity and the other creatures which constitute our natural environment.

In summary, Dority’s portrayal of humanism as supporting an extreme animal rights position is largely inaccurate. Humanism, as generally described, recognizes the superior position of humanity while promoting a view which values nature as essential to humankind’s long term happiness. Humanist statements concerning the relative importance of humans and other species, and the consequent ethical implications, are unequivocal. Because of its promotion of human welfare, any simple choice between the life of an animal and that of a human would have to be decided in favor of the human. Although it is conceivable that a humanist might allow a particularly evil person to die, the introduction of a cat into the equation would be of no effect from a humanist ethical perspective. Dority’s desire that humanism take a strong stance in favor of species preservation is in no way compromised by the fact that humanism places primary importance upon human welfare. The most successful arguments in favor of environmental issues will, in fact, be those that can convince the ordinary person that preserving our ecology is good for us as humans because we are part of the animal kingdom. To save the ecology, we need not sacrifice ourselves.