We suspect that Edmonds may be ignorant of some other legal niceties when he says that the difference between murder and manslaughter is intent. No. The difference is malice. There is still intent to kill in manslaughter, but it is done without malice or forethought. If someone's actions unintentionally result in death, this is wrongful only if there is negligence -- a case of negligent homicide. But Edmonds does not discuss such problems; and his treatment of the issue of duties or wrongs of commission and omission does not get into it in anything like a satisfying manner. He never notes, for instance, that the problem with duties of commission or wrongs of omission, absent a contractual obligation, is that it may be impossible to tell whether a breach of duty or a wrong of omission has ever occurred. The challenge of prosecuting the husband who allows his wife to die of an accidental poisoning is that there may be no evidence that he was ever in a position to take timely action about it. He can pretend that he came into the kitchen a few minutes later, as in fact he might well have. This deception does not lessen his moral guilt, but it does demonstrate that the difference between commission and omission is practical as well as moral. This is a very significant feature of a moral system that we endeavor to translate into practical legal terms. For someone who works at a "Centre for Practical Ethics," Edmonds' neglect here seems like a grave oversight.

Edmonds also displays some carelessness in some other of his comments. For instance, most people regard the failure to save a drowning child, for trival reasons (e.g. soiling a $500 Versace skirt), as a grave breach of duty:

Yet few of us respond to letters from charities who point out that similar amounts of money could save lives on the far side of the world. [p.142]

What is a "few" here? Does this mean that Edmonds does not respond to such letters? Speak for yourself, Dave. He does not consider the volume of charity that is actually directed to humanitarian causes, particularly from the United States. Indeed, Europeans do less of this than Americans, and American "liberals" do less of it than conservatives, since "liberals" think it is the job of the government to take care of people -- and they already pay their taxes for that. Perhaps Edmonds does not want to admit, although there have been books written about it, that Americans or conservatives are not among the many he reproaches. He may also not want to consider that "letters from charities" do not always solicit money to effective or even honest causes, while the "liberals" who rely on foreign aid from their government would not want to admit that such money is typically wasted or even stolen by the regimes to which it is directed. So Edmonds, with a suspicious hint of self-righteousness (repeated later), touches on an issue to which he actually devotes no serious consideration and about which we may reasonably suspect that he is grossly uninformed or misinformed.

Another area where Edmonds could pay some more attention is to method. All the judgments about morality involve moral "intuitions." How these work does not come in for discussion, except for the occasional caution about "whether our intuitions can ever be relied upon" [p.93] -- since surveys involving moral judgment can vary by culture, let alone by philosopher (as we know already). However, for the reliability of "intuitions," Edmonds need go no further than Socrates. The answers people give to the questions asked by Socrates are almost always defective, and the purpose of this is, as it happens, to demonstrate their ignorance, by which Socrates vindicates the god at Delphi. Plato looked at it a little differently. The truth could be achieved by examining, sifting, and systematizing the sorts of answers that Socrates obtained. This was Plato's version of Socratic Method, whose effect was supposed to be different from the negative result always obtained by Socrates himself. Such a method became part of the doctrine of the Friesian School through its practice by Leonard Nelson. Thus, "intuitions" do not need to be reliable, but they have a prima facie credibility that we then examine. Like Socrates, all we can do is test them for consistency; and where no result is satisfactory, we must suggest new theories to try and achieve a coherent doctrine. This process does not end, as we can always continue the testing, looking to falsify any suggested theories.

With emphasis on the "clash" between deontological and utilitarian (teleological) ethics, or between Kant and Bentham, and passing mention of several other issues, such as commission and omission, Edmonds otherwise places considerable emphasis on a theoretical apparatus that I have not otherwise considered. This is the "Doctrine of Double Effect" of St. Thomas Aquinas, which is cited by Philippa Foot and which in the end Edmonds himself seems to think "has powerful intuitive resonance" [p.177]. The idea with this is to differentiate between a wrongful action and another, morally acceptable action, which nevertheless may have the same effect as the wrongful one. Thus, a person engaged in self-defense may kill their assailant, which morally is very different were the assailant to succeed in killing them. One effect is the killing, but the other, morally innocent, is self-defense. Thus, in many of the dilemmas, one does not have the intention to kill the one innocent person, but rather to save the many others, in terms of which the former death is merely "foreseen" rather than intended. Actually, this seems like a bit of sophistry, as Edmonds later admits. If you push the fat man off the bridge, it is hard to say that you don't intend to kill him, given your understanding of the situation. And to a Utilitarian, none of that matters, since the one death is preferable to the multiple deaths otherwise. Having only one death is better than several. On the other hand, if the fat man fell and stopped the trolley without getting killed, we would rejoice; and this does mean in a sense that we were not aiming at the death of the fat man as such. So perhaps we can make a distinction between "foreseen" and intended; but in fact the linguistic scruple is beside the point.

Since anyone willing to push the fat man to his death is clearly thinking in teleological terms, it is unnecessary to split hairs and distinguish between what is "intended" and what is merely "foreseen." The "double" that counts in the case is not between two effects but between cause and effect, i.e. between the intended action, which may be killing, and the tended purpose or outcome, which is self-defense, on the one hand, or saving multiple lives, on the other. So what the issue really adds up to is a problem of means and ends, not of what is "foreseen" in terms of collateral damage or negative externalities. The death of the fat man is not "intended" only because the fat man's body is merely the means to saving the lives of the others, in which his death is likely; but then it is intended because pushing the fat man to probable death is the means that have been selected for our ends. If the fat man has a right not to be used for our edifying purposes, then the action would be wrongful, pushing him off the bridge is precluded, and we could not use it as the means to save the people on the tracks. Taking it upon ourselves to dispose of the life of the fat man violates a version of Kant's categorical imperative, for we have used the fat man as a means only and not as an end also. We have acted just as though we were pushing a sack of concrete or a pile of bricks onto the tracks.

I am not sure this clears things up quite enough. The principle of St. Thomas (and Foot) suffers from the same kind of problem that I have elsewhere considered in Roman Catholic ethics in general, namely the failure to make relevant distinctions. The "Double Effect" simply conceals a relevant distinction between means and ends. If I am being assaulted and intend to defend myself, this is the end and purpose of my actions. In order to defend myself, I must fend off the attacker, and I am morally and legally entitled to use sufficient force to do that, including deadly force. Now, it is an important moral principle that if one wills the ends, then one must will the means. Thus, my intention indeed is to use the force sufficient to fend off the attack. If this can be done without deadly force, fine, but deadly force is intended as much as any other kind of force to the extent necessary in the circumstances. And we must consider the case of a small woman being attacked by a large man. If she is armed, deadly force, used immediately, may be her only recourse to prevent rape and/or murder. She should not hestitate. Once the man has his hands on her, it will probably be too late. Thus, the scruple that we do not "intend" to kill the attacker in our self-defense is both false and beside the point. It is trying to introduce the wrong distinction, about whether something is "intended" or "foreseen," in a problem where another distinction is more appropriate.

What is missing in Edmonds in terms of these considerations, therefore, is a more profound analysis of means and ends. Although this relation is mentioned in the book, it is not given a thorough examination in its own right. And although the subtitle of the book includes the statement, "What Your Answer Tells Us about Right and Wrong," we actually seem to hear very little about "right and wrong," let alone that these terms apply particularly to acts or to means and not so much to ends or consequences, which we may call "good and bad." This obscures the moral terms of the situation and leaves the "Doctrine of Double Effect" as a relatively muddled principle. Fewer deaths will always be better. The problem is how that end is to be achieved; and taking action that kills someone who would not otherwise die is what raises moral alarm, not about the end or even the intention, but about the acceptable means that may be employed. Using someone against their (innocent) will, especially when their death results, is probably what repels the 90% of people who say they would not push the fat man. It does not need to be feeling or emotion for the fellow. It can be Kantian respect for his dignity and for his autonomy.

Edmonds' book is not a bad book, and I think it is very helpful and informative about the state of the discussion in academic philosophy on moral issues. However, it does reveal the shortcomings of these very debates and the manner in which fallacies of moral reasoning continue to be perpetuated. Edmonds does not even treat of the independent variation of intention and action, that the rightness or wrongness of action is independent of good or bad intentions. This cannot be from ignorance, since everyone knows that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions, but he does not consider the larger implications of that truth, which is part of the polynomic theory of value. Similarly, we see nothing of the dilemmas of good art that represents evil causes. In those terms, a book about moral dilemmas doesn't even open up such dilemmas in all their generality. For that, Dr. Edmonds needs the Friesian School.

Some Moral Dilemmas

"What Would Aristotle Do in A Pandemic?" by Rebecca Goldstein, The Wall Street Journal, April 18-19, 2020, C4

Robert Heinlein (1907-1988), The Libertarian in the Lifeboat

The Polynomic Theory of Value

The Six Domains of the Polynomic Theory of Value

Return to Text in the Polynomic Theory of Value

Ethics

Value Theory

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