"Are you a vegetarian?" the person across the table asks, eyeing my garden burger, rice and beans, and salad topped with a mountain of cottage cheese.
"How'd you guess?" I answer with a smile.
I've had countless conversations that began like this. Almost inevitably, the next question is "Why? Is it for nutritional, spiritual, or ethical reasons?" Once I clarify that it's the latter, most people clam up and change the subject. Many are still curious, though, and inquire what moral concerns drive me to forego the pleasures of carnivory. I answer succinctly that I disapprove of the treatment of animals in factory farms, and that vegetarian fare represents more environmentally friendly nourishment on this vastly overpopulated planet. But even these curious cats soon fidget awkwardly if I don't promptly change the subject.
Why all the awkwardness? Because it's taboo to confront people on ethical issues, and my strong stand on the issue is confrontation enough to engender awkwardness. Imagine if I asked what seems a natural responding question: "Why do you eat meat?" This question is parallel to that just posed to me, but I'm not fooled by the apparent similarity. To my new acquaintance, the two questions are infinitely different.
I'm convinced that people dislike conversations about ethics for fear of the zealots who discuss morality by ramming it down their throats. You know the kind: they have all the answers for everyone and have dedicated their lives to spreading the Truth. But not everyone is so zealous or so self-righteous.
Some people dislike ethical confrontation, no matter how tactful. This aversion usually reflects a feeling of grave offense at the suggestion of moral imperfection, which might bespeak a deep concern about morality. People who are so concerned about moral character should make every effort to be as virtuous as they can be. Since other people offer new facts, a fresh perspective and a critique of one's logic, you would think such people would embrace moral discussions, not condemn them.
Some of us might be offended by moral confrontation because we're actually more concerned with feeling virtuous than actually being virtuous. By this logic, doing what we don't know is wrong doesn't tarnish our record of moral perfection. However, attempting to preserve our ignorance of the morality of issues - especially where we suspect our own guilt - is a tarnish of the most damning kind. This circle of self-deceit is easily deflated by a moment's thought: we cannot consider ourselves virtuous unless we practice active moral reflection.
Another possible explanation for the awkwardness is that we recognize the moral transgression but believe that perfection is unattainable (for any of several possible reasons). We would then pick our ethical battles, and we might resent someone for presuming to pick them for us. But if moral deficiency is inevitable, we should be able to explain why fighting for this one cause hampers our ability to fight for others. This justification will come easier for some issues than others: for example, it's easy to justify not devoting eight hours a day to volunteer work, but perhaps not so easy to justify a non-organic/non-free-range egg/meat-heavy diet. It seems that by altering our diet - even a little - we can reduce the suffering we cause animals and the damage we do to the environment without sacrificing more than personal pleasure.
A cynic might acknowledge that people are not perfect but argue that raising contentious issues will not help matters. "They'll figure it out eventually," you might think. Don't underestimate the power of denial. Sure, sometimes we figure things out on our own. More often, the revelation is sparked by something someone says, something we read or a special combination of the two. For years, I held off a sneaking suspicion that eating meat contradicted my system of values. It wasn't until Peter Singer's arrival on campus triggered me to read Animal Liberation and Practical Ethics that I realized that my suspicion had been correct. Then I was furious at myself for wasting so many years, and grateful to the vegetarians who had brought the issue to my attention. Without them, I might not have picked up those books when I did and might still be living a lie by the power of my own deception.
Open ethical debate often may not lead you to my revelation, or me to yours. The complexity of ethical issues means that different people often have different obligations. For example, al-though most of us can easily obtain enough protein for a healthy diet, this might not be the case for someone spending a year in a remote Chilean village.
If we discuss ethical issues with an open mind, we all stand to gain. First, such discussions will provide us with a more complete understanding of alternative positions on controversial issues. Second, if we find that we must sacrifice something for moral reasons - and we are all vulnerable to this - we gain an opportunity to better ourselves.
Alternatively, if we find that we've sacrificed too much, we can take back what was once forsaken. Herein lies one of my motivations for trying to dispel the Ethics Taboo: as a vegetarian who still salivates over the flesh of animals, what I really want is for someone to convincingly justify my gustatory fantasies!
(Kai M.A. Chan is an ecology and evolutionary biology graduate student from Toronto, Ontario. He can be reached at kaichan@princeton.edu)
Read More
Make intro macroeconomics the prerequisite for SPIA, not intro microeconomics
Eleanor Clemans-Cope“The current curriculum fails to equip our future policy leaders with the economic knowledge most relevant for their roles. For SPIA majors, Princeton’s introductory macroeconomics course is arguably more useful than its introductory micro, and this should be reflected in the curriculum.”
“The current curriculum fails to equip our future policy leaders with the economic knowledge most relevant for their roles. For SPIA majors, Princeton’s introductory macroeconomics course is arguably more useful than its introductory micro, and this should be reflected in the curriculum.”
It’s time to change how we talk about abortion
Lily Halbert-Alexander“When we don’t question disengaged language like this at Princeton, we excuse anti-abortion advocates from being present in the facts. We excuse them from talking about Amber Nicole Thurman, Josseli Barnica, Nevaeh Crain, Candi Miller, and countless other women who have lost their lives as a direct result of abortion bans and restrictions.”
“When we don’t question disengaged language like this at Princeton, we excuse anti-abortion advocates from being present in the facts. We excuse them from talking about Amber Nicole Thurman, Josseli Barnica, Nevaeh Crain, Candi Miller, and countless other women who have lost their lives as a direct result of abortion bans and restrictions.”
Princeton’s non-teaching staff are essential to building community
Asa SantosCommunity extends outside the classroom: Non-teaching employees play a huge part in establishing community and spaces of belonging at the institution.
Community extends outside the classroom: non-teaching employees play a huge part in establishing community and spaces of belonging at the institution.
