By Cathy Silman
Cathy is a volunteer for Citizens Advice, former Secretary of Dorset Humanists, and a Humanists UK schools speaker. In this article she writes about our good intentions and actions and asks to what extent they are good only for us and our immediate friends and family, rather than for humanity and the planet.
‘Let us try to teach generosity and altruism, because we are born selfish. Let us understand what our own selfish genes are up to, because we may then at least have the chance to upset their designs, something that no other species has ever aspired to do’. Richard Dawkins, The Selfish Gene.
My hope in writing this article is to encourage us all to be more honest about the effects our actions have on others, regardless of how well-intentioned we consider them to be, and to acknowledge that our ‘constructs of reality’ are influenced by our genes and life experiences. Mine may differ wildly from the reality of someone living only a few streets away. When advocating for change, we need to be honest about the effects it may have, not only for ourselves but also for others, and whether we are willing to accept the consequences.
Until recently I accepted, and indeed told many hundreds of school children, that the aim of humanism is to live a happy life, while endeavouring to make others happy and caring for our world. I would surmise that this is the aim of most humans, before they really examine its implications. It's like answering the question ‘What would you do with one wish?’ with the response ‘Ensure world peace’. A more honest, but realistic aim I would argue, is to endeavour to make people in my own family and social group happy. In addition, we may strive in a small way to make life better for a specific group outside our immediate society, species or environment. Vague good intentions, though easily spouted, often lead to no action, passing the buck, or excuse-making.
Those of us who are living comparatively comfortable lives need to admit that, outside our immediate circle, we can only make the minutest contribution to caring for the planet and all of humanity unless we make huge adjustments to the way that we live. By making such adjustments we have to acknowledge that our lives, and the lives of those around us, will become less comfortable and probably less happy.
I would argue that most people living in our present society are, in the main, incapable of doing anything of significance to improve the situation of people outside their own immediate family or community. And is it possible for beneficial changes in human brains to occur at the speed necessary to enable us to fully understand the consequences of our actions, enabling us to act for the good of more than, at best, our own communities? Dr Oliver Trotman, a fictional character in The Feathered Onion: Creation of Life in the Universe thinks not. This book, by Swiss scientist and author Clive Cookson, explores a variety of scientific ideas and theories about the origin and development of life in the universe, including discussions on genetics, evolution, and the complexity of life forms. Dr Trotman accepts the limits of human understanding.
An unimaginably large number of mutations over billions of years gave rise to the evolution of the human species, leading to you being you and me being me. Due to the capacity of our enlarged cranium, our brains have been able to store knowledge that can be accessed and built on by succeeding generations. Homo sapiens has produced such sophisticated mechanical, medical, and technological advances that, at least in the first world, our actions frequently affect all life species and the physical condition of our planet. The significant impact humans have had on the Earth’s geology and ecosystems has even led to the declaration of a new geological epoch, the Anthropocene, distinct from the Holocene.
To cite one example, because my washing machine lacks a microfilter, every wash releases microfibres into the water system. These fibres can end up in the sea, where an arrow worm plankton might ingest one, which is then eaten by a fish, potentially leading to poisoning in larger fish or humans. When it wears out, I hope to replace my washing machine with one that has a microfilter. However, if the cost is too high I might hesitate.
Humanists generally agree with Articles 1 and 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which state that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights, and that everyone has the right to an adequate standard of living, including food, clothing, housing, and medical care. They have also ‘trusted to the scientific method, evidence, and reason to discover truths about the universe and have placed human welfare and happiness at the centre of their ethical decision making’ (Humanists UK). Despite a real wish for this to be true, I can’t honestly say that all my decisions, widely accepted by most of my social group as being ethical, take into account the planet and humans world wide. Indeed, it would be extremely difficult to live a life in the western world that truly does. Writing vague feel-good statements, without acknowledging the scientific truths about humans, diminishes their validity. How about this, perhaps a more realistic version: ‘An underlying trust in scientific method, evidence and reason to discover truths that placed human welfare and happiness at the centre of their ethical decision making in as far as is feasibly possible, without decreasing by too much the standard of living of our families and close society’? (a proposal for Humanists UK!)
Geoff Keeling’s article in Humanist Life, In Defence of Humanist Morality, explores the biological origins of morality and argues for the inherent goodness of human beings. He discusses the evolutionary benefits of cooperative behaviour and empathy, which he suggests have been crucial to human success and explains that traits like cooperation and empathy have evolved because they offer significant survival advantages. He uses examples from animal behaviour to illustrate how altruism can be advantageous, supporting the idea that humans, too, have evolved to be kind and cooperative because these traits help ensure the survival and well-being of their communities. But are we capable of really caring about more than 150 people – the theoretical cognitive limit to the number of stable social relationships that humans can maintain according to anthropologist Robin Dunbar? I very much doubt it.
Determining whether a decision is ethical depends on the scope of human welfare being considered – whether it pertains to an individual, a family, a social group within a society, a country, or humanity as a whole. Decisions made in the best interests of myself and my immediate family may be detrimental to families in different social classes or those in developing countries, even if these actions bring positive gains to my own social group. For example, Darren McGarvey’s Poverty Safari: Understanding the Anger of Britain's Underclass describes the building of the M27 motorway in Glasgow as being very beneficial to commuters and big business, but it destroyed parts of Pollok – an impoverished residential area with a strong community feel where he was raised. The construction of motorways increases traffic, lessens the need for public transport, and in time contributes to the climate change that results in floods and droughts – mostly in other lands.
Should we as humanists encourage ourselves, and politicians, to be more honest about our good intentions, not only as to who will really benefit, but also who may come to harm – in addition to the feasibility of implementation? By doing so, we might come to understand that when we open the Pandora’s Box of accumulated knowledge to invent machines instead of simple tools, we should heed the health warnings attached to the lid. If only John Rawls' famous 'veil of ignorance' – which prevents you from knowing your ethnicity, social status, gender, or personal conception of a good life – could be applied to every decision made by politicians, scientists, and individuals, we might truly be better able to aim for general happiness and well-being, whilst limiting to some extent the damage we are doing. Unfortunately it's only a thought experiment.
According to Dr Trotman, the fictional character we met earlier, ‘a million years of teaching will not change a single gene’. But we do now have the understanding to know this and we can aspire to be truly honest about the wider implications of all our decisions. This will take courage and the ability to forgive ourselves for being led by our ‘selfish gene’. If we encourage others to do the same, we can use this knowledge to move in small steps to limit the damage we cause. Returning to my washing machine, as more and more people request manufacturers to produce machines with filters, many countries have begun to legislate for this design improvement. I’m now looking for a microfibre filter bag myself and I know it is better to do a full wash. I’m not sure I'm prepared, however, to go so far as to wash less!
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