Author Archives: James Garvey - Page 2

The ethics of applied ethics

So here’s a weird one for you.  Philosophers are sometimes asked to take part in public discussions, and where they have a contribution to make, I think this is an entirely good thing.  Philosophers recently gave evidence at the Leveson Inquiry, and they said some helpful things about freedom and privacy.  Philosophers are also sometimes asked to bring a little philosophical clarity to moral problems, and every now and then I get asked to talk about the ethics of climate change in the midst of nonphilosophers — I just gave a talk at the University of Leeds, in connection to the UK Energy Research Centre, in an interdisciplinary workshop about low carbon vehicles.  (If you can stand it, the talk is here — it’s really a short argument for the claim that we know more about how stuff works than how we ought to use it, and that the questions we ask shape the answers we give.  Not headline news.)

I find this kind of thing very rewarding (for me anyway), but there is always the thought that I’m moralizing, rather than doing moral philosophy.  The idea is that I’m setting myself up as a moral expert, telling people what they ought to do, and that’s an instant turn off.  I try to get around that by saying, at the start of such talks, that I’m not a moral expert at all, and in fact there’s evidence for the view that people who study ethics are no more ethical than anybody else (there’s some evidence for the thought that ethicists are actually in bad moral shape – Eric Schwitzgebel’s research is interesting stuff).  I say you wouldn’t expect someone who teaches or writes about English literature to crank out good sonnets, so why think someone who studies moral philosophy knows better than you what you ought to do?  The student of moral philosophy just knows a bit more than most about certain ethical concepts, some part of the history of ideas, and maybe like any philosopher they can follow the implications of views pretty keenly.

But on the train back, I wondered whether ethicists can get away with what looks increasingly like a cop out to me.  Is there’s scope for a weird conflict of interest here?  If you’re an organic chemist and asked to talk about some aspect of human fertility, you can simply state the facts you know, make judgements based on your expertise, and advise a panel accordingly.  But if you’re asked by some people in the medical profession to say something about the moral philosophy around the abortion debate, do you have to declare the fact that you’re a consequentialist or a Kantian or a virtue ethicist?  If you’re of some faith or other and tied to a pro-life view as a result, maybe there’s reason to think that you should mention that ahead of accepting an invitation to advise a panel on abortion.  Shouldn’t an ethicist fess up ahead of time too?  “Look, I’ll give you an overview of the positions, but I’m a convinced consequentialist, I think that’s the right view of morality, so this is going to be a really biased take on abortion.  But I can’t help that.  I think consequentialism is true.”

Are applied ethicists sometimes unable to give unbiased advice?  Is there a problem for them that’s no problem for people like chemists?

Emergency wedding vows

Long story, but I’m something like a ‘humanist celebrant’ at a wedding this weekend.  They don’t want to bother God, but they do want to mark their connection with friends, and they asked me to conduct the festivities.  I’m humbled.  But I’ve just seen the programme, and the first bit says, ‘James welcomes everyone and says something about the importance of friends and family and the partnership the couple has, general remarks about marriage, etc’.  I’m all in favour of freedom, but this is a very loose brief indeed.  I’ve been told not to swear, but that’s my only steer.  Help!

Now’s your chance to provide a counter-example to Jeremy’s discovery that atheists aren’t much good at helping from a distance.  Any thoughts or leads or views?  Any pointers to philosophers on love and marriage — my copy of the Symposium will be examined in a moment.  What would you say?  What should be said, what matters most, when two people who aren’t believers want to have a serious connection marked with family and friends?

 

Philosophers address the Leveson Inquiry

Here’s a quick pointer to a video of philosophers addressing the Leveson Inquiry:  culture, practice and ethics of the press. Only part of the way through it myself, but it’s interesting.  Sue Mendus, Jennifer Hornsby, and John Tasioulas on freedom of the press and freedom of expression, rights, privacy, etc.

Olympic philosophy

The current issue of The Philosophers’ Magazine features a fine forum on sport, with a number of philosophers of sport weighing in (ahem), just in time to prove that even the Olympics can be a source of philosophical inspiration.  Here’s an article by Jim Parry, visiting professor of Olympic studies at Gresham College no less, called ‘The Philosophy of the Olympic Movement’. He goes into some detail about the philosophical underpinnings of the modern games (there’s a lot I didn’t know about that), but he makes a particularly interesting point about the fundamentally ethical nature of sport.  He writes,

It is difficult even to state the characteristics of sport without relying on terms that carry ethical import, and such meanings must apply across the world of sports participation.  Without agreement on rule-adherence, the authority of the referee, and the central shared values of the activity, there could be no sport.

Somewhere behind the sponsorship deals, security concerns, drugs testing and large personalities, there’s the founding ideal of the modern games:  the promotion of a certain set of values, including co-operation, respect and what Parry calls ‘mutual valuing’.  The Games went to Moscow, and who knows, maybe that had a little to do with the wall coming down.  Perhaps something good rubbed off at the Beijing Olympics.  Maybe we could do with the injection of such values here in London too.

So what do you think?  Is sport a fundamentally ethical practice?  When the Olympics come to town, does it have good effects on human rights, tolerance, and other sorts of values in the host country?  Do athletes and spectators alike walk away better people for having taken part or looked on?  Are the Olympics part of a real push towards peaceful internationalism?  Or is it all a huge waste of time, money, and lycra?

The Story of Philosophy

Diogenes by Jules Bastien-Lepage

It would, of course, be vulgar to mention the fact that the book Jeremy Stangroom and I recently wrote, The Story of Philosophy: A History of Western Thought, has just landed on the shelves.   So I’ll keep that to myself, and also refrain from mentioning that there’s a review by a fundamentally decent human being here.

But what I do want to consider is a question that arose quite often while writing it:  how much bearing should the lives of philosophers have on our interpretations of them?  In recounting the history of philosophy, you bump into a number of stories about philosophers.  It’s said that Thales fell into a ditch while stargazing.  Diogenes did some fairly revolting stuff in public.  Aquinas paced back and forth between scribes, dictating the lines of separate philosophical treatises to them at the same time.  Kant held carefully organized house parties, with time allocated to political discussion and the telling of amusing anecdotes.  Schopenhauer pushed a woman down a flight of stairs. Suicide runs in Wittgenstein’s family.

Take a second to get a feel for what you think about the value of biography when it comes to understanding philosophy.  I’ve got a view to push on you, but it won’t be interesting unless you’ve got a ideas of your own.

I used to think that whether or not biography matters depends on whether the philosopher in question waded into value theory.  Frege was an anti-Semite, but what bearing could that have on his work on logic?  Aristotle owned people, and maybe that matters when it comes to thinking through his ethics.

Ray Monk changed my mind on this, or at least made me think the question of the value of biography is more subtle than I thought.  In tpm 56, he considers a distinction, owed to James Conant, between two kinds of views on philosophical biography.  Reductivism is the view that if we learn enough about a philosopher’s life, we’ll know exactly why she wrote what she wrote, and finally achieve a real understanding of her work.  Compartmentalism is the view that biography is irrelevant to understanding philosophy.  I’d guess that most philosophers are compartmentalists – perhaps holding that the truth or falsity of a claim is independent of the person who makes it. Monk argues that both views are wrong, in a way, and so is the question that gives rise to them.  We shouldn’t wonder about the value of knowing a life in general.  Instead we should value biography that describes a life and work in an integrated, interleaving narrative.  ‘Catching the tone’, as he puts it, getting to know a philosopher better, can help us along in particular instances.  Not always, not never, but now and then, and in a certain, nuanced way.

His example is Wittgenstein’s philosophy of mathematics.  Monk says that Dummett and Wright attribute to Wittgenstein full-blown theories of mathematics, but in doing this,

‘they were trying to force his work into a tradition that he himself loathed and thereby flying in the face of the spirit of Wittgenstein’s work.  I thought, that, if one understood what sort of person Wittgenstein was – what motivated him, what repelled him, what kinds of thing he treasured, to what he aspired, etc. – then one would stand a better chance of reading his work in the right way, just as when we know someone well we are more likely to interpret correctly the tone in which they speak, more likely to tell, for example, when they are being sarcastic.’

Monk goes on to consider the famous last sentence of the Tractatus: ‘Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent’.  If you’re of a certain frame of mind, you might take that as a solid bash at transcendental nonsense – and logical positivists did take it that way.  But you might also take it as being silent about something, reverential silence, affirming the existence of something transcendental.  Monk asks, ‘But how is one to tell the difference between a person who is being silent about something and another who is simply being silent?’  You’ve got to take the time to get to get know Wittgenstein.  So too, maybe I now think, with the other greats.

So which is it?  Are you a compartmentalist?  A reductivist?  Or is Monk right, and a grip on biography really is needed to help us, sometimes, catch a philosopher’s tone?

I have the horrible feeling that my reading list just got longer.  Maybe we’ve got some biography to read alongside philosophy, if we really want to get a handle on what philosophers think.

Nice Guy Materialism

Patricia Churchland

The April issue of The Philosophers’ Magazine is now published, and it contains a spirited interview by Julian Baggini with Patricia Churchland — you can read it here.  She talks about her new book, Braintrust, but what’s most interesting to me comes near the end, where she explains the birth of eliminative materialism.

‘It’s a position most people know only in caricature, and so they take the straw man version and attack that,’ she argues. The view gets dismissed as something silly like the belief that there are no beliefs, or the denial of the existence of consciousness, but Churchland claims that really nothing is eliminated — the view is about explanation, about conceptual re-organization, not metaphysics.  So why call it ‘eliminative materialism’?

It turns out that Richard Rorty introduced the term ‘eliminative materialism’, so the words were already out there.  Churchland says, ‘We talked about calling it revisionary materialism, and Paul said, look, if we introduce a whole new term here (a) people aren’t going to recognise it, so they aren’t going to read it, and (b) they’re going to say who the fuck are these upstarts, and we will simply be dismissed.  So we thought better to take something that’s recognisable and go with it.  In the end, I think that was a mistake. I’d call it revisionary materialism if I had to do it all over again, I’d call it really nice guy materialism if I had that opportunity, I’d give it a really nice name’.  What’s the actual view?

‘As in the case of fire, which originally encompassed not just burning of wood but what went on in the Sun, and lightning and so forth, it will fragment.  That’s what’s happened with memory … there are all these different memory systems.  We know there are many different components to it, and they are dissociable anatomically ….’ Nothing gets eliminated, exactly, but perhaps explanations of memory can no longer depend on a single explanatory mechanism.  We don’t think of what’s going on in the sun, burning wood and lightning as the same kind of thing … it’s fragmented out in our explanations.  Maybe so too with memory and other mental notions.

The idea is not that consciousness, belief and desire do not exist, and must be (Borg voice) ELIMINATED, but that we ought to revise folk explanations of our mental lives to match up a bit better with our growing understanding of how our brains actually work.  So what do you think about nice guy materialism?

Guardians of the Future

I went to the launch last night of a report by fellow tpm blogger, philosopher and green campaigner Rupert Read, under the auspices of the new think tank Green House.  The report is called ‘Guardians of the Future:  a constitutional case for representing and protecting future people’.  You can read it here.  The general idea is that democracy means government by the people, and since society exists over time, the people in question aren’t just those alive now.  So future people ought somehow to have a say in the political decisions we make, particularly because our choices sometimes affect them in negative ways.  So Rupert proposes a jury of guardians with the power to veto legislation that seems likely to harm future people.  Such a body might do something about the short termism we seem mired in — moreover, it’s a leap towards actual intergenerational justice.

Pie in the sky stuff?  Maybe not.  The launch happened right in the middle of the UK government, in the Houses of Parliment, and was attended by three MPs who all spoke in response to the report.  What’s more, a number of governments already have or are exploring similar things — I discovered last night that Hungary has a Parliamentary Commissioner for Future Generations.  The report is getting attention in the broadsheets, too.

Perhaps the most interesting point was made last night by Caroline Lucas, the Green Party MP.  She said maybe a super jury with veto power might not be the right mechanism, but if not that, then what?  When she put it in this way, I had the feeling that Rupert and Green House have, in a way, already done something substantial.  A very large question is now on a number of new tables:  what are we going to do about the harm we cause to future people?  Good quesiton.  What’s your answer?

Climate ethics: is sustainability possible?

Here’s the last in a series of three posts about shifting facts and climate change, from a talk in a series called Rights to a Green Future in Utrecht earlier this month. The general idea is that the facts of climate change are shifting around, and I think that’s doing something to moral reflection on action. The first post, about history and cumulative emissions, is here. The second, about the present state of play and equal per capital shares, is here. This post is about arguments for action that depend on some future good.

These arguments are hypothetical in form: if we value a sustainable world, a green future, a nice and habitable planet like the one we’ve got for those who come after us, then, the argument goes, such and such a sort of mitigation or adaptation strategy is now demanded. Sometimes the argument is reversed: if we want to avoid a future with a lot of miserable lives in it – suffering we might dodge if we choose wisely now – then, again, such and such a strategy is morally demanded of us.

Commitments to a sustainable future, when they do appear in international negotiations, typically mention the Brundtland Report’s definition: sustainability ‘implies meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs’. The question at the back of everyone’s mind when they hear this, the question which needs now to shift to the front, is this: is it possible for our needs and future needs to be met?

There are now a lot of people around – we were just joined by number 7 billion, and it looks like we’ll have 10 billion before the world’s population levels out. Most of our basic needs are met by burning fossil fuels. In other words, the moral argument for action now might be thought to boil down to the question of whether we really can act to meet everyone’s needs. In a nutshell, is sustainability possible? Is it possible to meet our own needs and leave a habitable world in our wake?

That’s partly an empirical question. The world seems to have settled on two kinds of targets or limits – the thought is that if we pass them we’re in for dangerous climate change and an unsustainable world. One is 2 degrees Celsius of warming above pre-industrial levels, and indeed this target was loudly endorsed at the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change conference in Cancun in 2010, which called for all countries to take urgent action to limit the increase in global average temperature to beneath this temperature threshold. (There’s a good summary here.) Some nations, particularly low lying island states with a lot to lose as sea levels rise, have argued that 1.5 degrees or less is the only safe maximum. (112 countries argue for this more ambitious target.  There’s a list and details here, of the so called Least Developed Countries and the Association of Small Island States.)

How likely are we to stay under the 2 degree target? We have already warmed the world by .74 degrees, and another half a degree or so is thought to already be in the climate system. In a paper which appeared in October of this year, the examination of published emission scenarios from different climate models found that in the set of scenarios with a ‘likely’ chance of staying below 2 °C, and by that the mean merely a better than 66% chance, emissions must peak and begin falling rapidly very soon, between 2010 and 2020. (Joeri Rogelj et al, ‘Emission pathways consistent with a 2 °C global temperature limit’ Nature Climate Change, Volume: 1, (2011) 413–418)

As they put it,

“Without a firm commitment to put in place the mechanisms to enable an early global emissions peak followed by steep reductions thereafter, there are significant risks that the 2 °C target, endorsed by so many nations, is already slipping out of reach.”

The related target is 450 parts per million of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere, which is thought to be the maximum we can emit and stay beneath the 2 degree threshold. The level at present is about 390 ppm. It turns out that while the projected date at which passing 450 is unavoidable is still several years ahead, the choices we make now about building power plants and extracting energy can ‘lock us in’ to pathways that overshoot 450. According to a report released last month by the International Energy Agency (World Energy Outlook 2011), the world’s existing infrastructure is already producing 80% of the carbon budget we’ve got left if we want to stay under 450 ppm. If trends continue and we build more fossil fuel burning energy plants, by 2015, 90% of the available “carbon budget” will spent. By 2017, the remaining carbon budget that might keep us under 450 ppm will be gone, and we’ll have no chance at all of staying under 2 degrees. As the Guardian reported,

“The door is closing,” Fatih Birol, chief economist at the International Energy Agency, said. “I am very worried – if we don’t change direction now on how we use energy, we will end up beyond what scientists tell us is the minimum [for safety] … If we do not have an international agreement, whose effect is put in place by 2017, then the door to [holding temperatures to 2C of warming] will be closed forever,” said Birol.

Are we likely to have such an agreement? Copenhagen was viewed by many as the world’s last chance at a global agreement, and of course that did not materialise. As I write this, newspaper reports from the current UN Climate Conference in Durban say that the world’s leading economies now privately admit that no new global climate agreement will be reached before 2016. The EU is pressing for targets now, but the US, Canada, Russia, Japan, India and China say new negotiations should not begin until 2015, to come into effect in 2020 at the earliest.

The IEA, again in its 2011 report,

“projects that world CO2 emissions from fuel combustion will continue to grow unabated, albeit at a lower rate … [this] is in line with the worst case scenario presented by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) in the Fourth Assessment Report (2007), which projects a world average temperature increase of between 2.4°C and 6.4°C by 2100.”

For what it’s worth this kind of talk jives with the results of a 2009 poll, undertaken by the Guardian, which showed that,

“Almost nine out of 10 climate scientists do not believe political efforts to restrict global warming to 2C will succeed … An average rise of 4-5C by the end of this century is more likely, they say, given soaring carbon emissions and political constraints.”

What exactly does passing the 2 degree limit mean? No one is sure. It’s synonymous with so called ‘dangerous climate change’ or ‘runaway climate change’. The IPCC associate temperature rises above 2 degrees with ‘more and more negative impacts’. Mark Lynas put some flesh on the these conservative bones with a book called Six Degrees, an attempt to work out what we’re in for as the world heats up, degree by degree, by looking at what the world has been like, in its long history, at those temperatures. It’s just one take on our prospects past 2 degrees, but it’s well-researched, compelling stuff. Here’s a summary:

Between 2 and 3 degrees of warming, one ‘tipping point’ is crossed. Enough heat to cause the eventual complete melting of the Greenland ice sheet is in the system, which would eventually raise global sea levels by as much as seven metres and change the planet’s weather systems. Heat waves are likely to be responsible for many deaths each summer in Europe, coral reefs die and the marine food chain is disrupted, and the loss of fresh water from melting glaciers and snowpack affects both food production and the availability of drinking water.

Between 3 and 4 degrees, a large tipping point is crossed, where it’s thought that climate mechanisms might run out of control, with tipping points leading to the emission of more greenhouse gasses and more tipping points leading to the emission of still more greenhouse gasses, and so on until warming is, in effect, runaway. If the Amazon rainforest collapses, dries and burns, as is consistent with a 3 degree world, the carbon released could be enough to push us up another 1.5 degrees past a four degree world. Beyond three degrees, Africa, Australia and parts of North American turn into deserts on some climate models – food production obviously suffers, and water becomes scarce.

Between 4 and 5 degrees another tipping point is crossed, the Arctic permafrost melts, and huge amounts of methane and carbon dioxide are released into the atmosphere, further increasing the effects of climate change and pushing us up to 5 or 6 degrees. The Arctic melts, again increasing sea level. Humanity heads towards the poles, as other parts of the world become uninhabitable.

Beyond 5 degrees … there’s nothing like a clear picture. The world hasn’t been that hot for millions of years. Lynas talks of methane hydrates on the ocean floor erupting up in warmer waters and pushing the greenhouse effect out of control, and real questions arise here about the possibility of human beings joining the other 95% of the earth’s species in extinction. There’s talk of the Earth becoming a hot, desolate, lifeless ball, like Venus.

So what can we make of arguments for sustainability in the light of all this? Is sustainability still a live possibility?  The argument is of the form, if we want a world like x, we must do y — but it’s possible that a world like x is becoming less and less likely.

It seems to me that sustainability arguments can take still take hold of us, with a particular sort of urgency, but perhaps only for a few years more, after which it becomes more and more likely that we’ll be unable to do anything to avoid the possibility of runaway climate change. I have to admit that it’s not easy to say things like this and keep a straight face. One sounds very much like some end-of-the-world cultist, warning that the end is nigh, but the voices telling us that we’ve only got a few years left to leave a habitable world in our wake are coming from the authors of peer reviewed papers, the heads of respected research institutions, the writers of books that win the Royal Society Science Prize. The world’s nations have agreed a 2 degree target, calling climate change an ‘urgent and potentially irreversible threat to human societies and the planet’.  These aren’t crazy people talking.  It’s the agreed language of representatives of our governments.

There are thoughts to be had here about civil disobedience, as well as other thoughts about human nature. But since I wrote this, we’ve had something of a conclusion in Durban. (Mark Lynas’ valuable discussion of the meaning of the Durban Platform is here.) It looks like there’s a commitment to have a commitment in 2015, which will come into legal force, if all hurdles are cleared, in 2020. Whether or not we’ve left it too late is unlcear, but there’s room for philosophical reflection on how to think about this possibility, about what it does to arguments for action on climate change, and about what to make of ourselves against this backdrop.

Climate ethics: do equal shares still make sense?

Here’s the second of three posts on the shifting ethics of climate change, timed with recent events in Durban. The first, about the changing facts of cumulative emissions, and what this means for historical arguments for action, is here. This post considers arguments for action that employ talk of emissions rights or the call for equal per capita shares.

Some moral arguments for action on climate change depend not on the past but the present. They get us past a certain sort of recrimination – an objection to historical arguments on the grounds of a lack of foreknowledge on the part of the West – and move us all in the direction of equality with a clear and green conscience.

You might think, for example, that however we got to where we are, the benefits and burdens associated with using fossil fuels ought now be shared out equally. That’s what human beings ought to do with a limited, scarce and common resource. Maybe this is something you think follows from reflection on distributive justice or fairness. Maybe it has to do with emissions rights, which follow in a way from the rights that some argue all human beings have – rights to a secure and free life, for example.

If there are ‘safe’ emissions levels, if we can think clearly about the planet’s sinks as common resources to be divided up equally, then it follows pretty sharply that everyone on the planet has an equal right to emit within those safe limits. Perhaps you think in terms of a greenhouse budget, that some maximum concentration of greenhouses gasses in the atmosphere is acceptable, and we must divvy up the shares that remain equally, and take care to stay under that limit.  (Here’s Peter Singer, arguing for a ‘fair deal on climate change’; you can read more details in ‘One Atmosphere’ in his book, One World.)

Whichever of these lines you choose to take, given the enormous levels of emission per capita in the West, it’s been argued on almost all sides that the West has an obligation to reign in its consumption, bringing it down and in line with others whose use of the planet’s common resources is less reckless. This, anyway, is part of the thinking behind such things as the contraction and convergence model, advocated with gusto by Aubrey Meyer and the Global Commons Institute and endorsed by a very large number of people and organizations, as a means to stabilize greenhouse gas emissions equitably. The idea is that some safe global emissions ceiling is set, everyone has an equal right to emit greenhouse gasses beneath that ceiling, and countries get emissions budgets based on population. High per capita emissions in the developed world contract, leaving room for the developing world to develop its way out of poverty, while levels converge beneath some safe threshold and, together, wind down and avoid the worst of climate change.

The plan has many supporters – these quotations are from the Global Commons Institute’s website.

“If we agree to per capita allowances for all by 2030 then assigned amounts for Annex One countries would be drastically reduced. However, because all countries would have assigned amounts, maximum use of global emissions trading would strongly reduce the cost of compliance. In such a scenario Industrial Countries would have to do more, but it would be cheaper and easier.”

Jan Pronk COP6 2000, Dutch Environment Minister

“Liberal Democrats argue for the principle of contraction and convergence with the long-term goal of equalising per capita emissions globally.”

Chris Huhne, now the UK Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change

“When we ask the opinions of people from all circles, many people, in particular the scientists, think the emissions control standard should be formulated on a per capita basis. According to the UN Charter, everybody is born equal, and has inalienable rights to enjoy modern technological civilization.”

China State Counsellor Dr Song Jian, COP 3 1997

“We do not believe that the ethos of democracy can support any norm other than equal per capita rights to global environmental resources.”

Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Prime Minister of India, 2002

“The international climate regime should be based on legitimate principles of equity, such as long-term convergence of emission levels per capita in the various countries.”

Nicholas Sarkozy President of France 2008

“In the final analysis the per capita emissions in emerging economies will meet those of industrialised countries. I cannot imagine the emerging economies will one day be permitted to emit more CO2 per capita than we in the industrialised countries. With this proposal, emerging nations with rapidly expanding economies could be on board the global climate negotiations scheduled for 2009.”

Angela Merkel President of Germany 2008

But, again, the facts are changing. Around ten years ago, this was, and some places it still is, the model used for thinking about contraction and convergence:env_contraction-and-convergence-diagram

The idea is that, fairly rapidly after 2000, developed countries have a steep drop in emissions to make, while China, India and the rest of the world can grow a bit, meeting us in 2030, where we all cruise downwards, eventually to nearly preindustrial levels in one hundred years or so. (EDIT:  Note that the GCI has new models, updated for the current state of play, with new, challenging emissions reductions.  You can see those, and the GCI’s dim view of the Durban platform, here.)

The trouble is that, in 2012, the world looks much different than it did just ten or even five years ago. The developed world has not undertaken a programme of rapid per capita emissions reduction, and China, India and the rest have not just grown a bit, with their emissions likely to flatten out and on course to meet us on the way down in 2030. While it is a mixed bag, with some countries taking steps to lower emissions rates, and indeed emissions dipping in places during the recession, the trend in global emissions has always been upwards – the global increase is now 45% on 1990 levels, coincidentally the date of the IPCC’s first assessment report.

According to a report published by the European Commission in September and another by the International Energy Agency this year, 2010 was a record year in terms of increasing emissions.  The long term annual average increase in emissions from 1990 is 1.9%, but in 2010 the increase was 5.8%, the largest jump ever recorded. This was driven partly by increases in China of 10% and India of 9%, as well as rises in the developed world, notably the USA.

How far have we strayed from the lines on that graph? The USA’s emissions have not dropped sharply, but increased by 11% on 1990 levels. China did not slowly grow, but passed the US as the world’s biggest emitter of carbon dioxide in 2006. Amazingly, again according to the European Commission, China’s per capita emissions could equal US levels by 2017 – it’s thought China has already overtaken France and Spain. China has promised not to let itself reach US levels, and its investment in renewables is huge, but it is astonishing to think that a country with a billion more people in it could match the United States in its bloated per capita emissions rates in just 5 years. It’s growth on an extraordinary scale.

The trouble with the moral equation and present emissions is not just this mess of facts, but the time we have left between now and 2030. It made sense at the start of this century to talk about emissions rights and equal per capita shares, which we might divvy up and keep under a safe emissions limit. As we move closer to the point of convergence, the 2030 deadline and the so called safe threshold, our ability to do the right thing, our room for moral manoeuvring, wanes. Emissions rates, on this model, should have begun falling rapidly in the West 5 or 10 years ago, but they have generally increased. Per capita emissions in the developing world had a bit of breathing room, but were not expected to rocket up past our own, already excessive levels.

Kant’s dictum, ought implies can, is something worth reflecting on in this connection. It makes sense to say that we ought to do something only if we actually can do it. It makes sense to call for climate justice, to demand that emissions be shared out equally among the people of the world beneath some safe threshold, only if this is something we in fact can do. There is now at least the possibility that it is now too late to do the right thing — it might already be too late for the LCDs and small island states, who are calling for an immediate deal and even tougher targets. As the space on the graph between us and 2030 compresses, and the lines we have to contemplate riding out become steeper and steeper and therefore further and further from the realm of the physically possible, the possibility that it’s too late is genuinely before us. Facts here intrude on morality, and sometimes the possibility of doing the right or just or equitable thing can slip beyond our grasp if we let it.

This kind of thing isn’t entirely outside our experience. Suppose you’re at an office party, your friend has been drinking, and you know he’s going to make a fool of himself as he walks towards the boss. You’ve got a few moments to grab his arm and save him from trouble he doesn’t deserve. But in that moment, at a certain point, it becomes too late for you to act, and in a single quiet breath, all your inner reflection about what you ought to do changes, passes from a live practical question to something theoretical, to a moot discussion of what you might have done or should have done. Maybe it becomes regret. We’ve all felt that, that sense of a chance slipping away. It’s possible to have that feeling about sharing out emissions rights. It’s possible to have that feeling about this part of the moral dimension of climate change.

We’ll turn to sustainability arguments, which depend on the future, not the past or present, in the next post.  Meanwhile, I’d like to know what you think about arguments for equal emissions rights.  What I’m contemplating is that calls for equal rights to emit will at some point bang up against so called ‘safe emissions thresholds’.  What do we do when it’s too late to for ‘climate justice’?  There are further thoughts to be had about morality in extremis.  As it gets harder and harder to do the right thing, as ‘safe’ emissions pathways get more and more steep, is there room to excuse ourselves, and say that equal emissions rights are just beyond us?  I’d say no, but it’s hard to square that with other things that seem true.

Climate ethics: does history matter?

I gave a talk in Utrecht this weekend, as part of a series called ‘Rights to a Green Future‘. I was asked to do the usual number on climate justice, but rather than just dust off an old talk, I decided to have another look at the emerging science of climate change. I ended up saying that the usual arguments for action on climate change are shifting around, because both our grip on the facts of climate change, and in some sense the facts themselves, are shifting around too.

I’ll run a shortened version of each argument past you in a series of three blog posts – one about arguments for action based on cumulative emissions, one about the argument for equal emissions rights now, and the last on arguments for a sustainable future. Here’s the first, on arguments from emissions histories.

Historical arguments for action on climate change turn, in an obvious way, on the connection in our thinking between causal and moral responsibility. During the last century, the argument goes, the developed countries in Europe and North America produced such an abundance of greenhouse gas emissions that our world is now damaged, changing into a less hospitable place. The changes we’ve caused result in a lot of unnecessary suffering, both now and in our future – poignantly and relevantly, much of that suffering will fall disproportionately on people who, historically, had little to do with its cause. The developed world is causally responsible for this suffering, and if we think that one has a moral obligation to do something about the unnecessary suffering one causes, then the developed world has a moral obligation to do something about climate change.

Peter Singer makes the point, starkly and much better than I can, in his book One World:

‘To put it in terms a child could understand, as far as the atmosphere is concerned, the developed nations broke it. If we believe that people should contribute to fixing something in proportion to their responsibility for breaking it, then the developed nations owe it to the rest of the world to fix the problem with the atmosphere.’

Strong, straightforward, and compelling stuff. It seems to follow, swiftly, that the developed world ought to follow a path of swift emissions reductions, as well as offer to do something about the unavoidable trouble that’s already in the pipeline.

You can hear something similar in arguments which depend on the so-called ‘polluter pays principle’. It appears in the 1992 Rio Declaration, accepted by 130 nations:

‘National authorities should endeavour to promote the internalization of environmental costs and the use of economic instruments, taking into account the approach that the polluter should, in principle, bear the cost of pollution.’

There is also talk of ‘common but differentiated responsibilities’ in the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, and indeed many developing countries, notably Brazil, have argued at length in an effort to ensure that historical responsibility at least remains on the table in climate change negotiations.

What I want at least begin thinking about is the possibility that the history of emissions is no longer a simple, straightforward story, and that, perhaps, we need to rethink the connection between causal and moral responsibility and the role of the developed world when it comes to taking action on climate change.

The trouble has to do with the shifting facts of climate change. It might have been unthinkable, perhaps 5 or 10 years ago, that emissions in the developing world would increase as they in fact have.

This is roughly how cumulative emissions looked about 10 years ago, in the year 2000, according to the World Resources Institute.

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But a study of projections undertaken in 2008 by Botzen et al shows that the cumulative emissions story is set to change, and perhaps with it, a part of the moral dimension of climate change. They write:

“Currently the USA has the highest level of cumulative CO2 emissions, followed by Western Europe, China, Japan and India. However, this ranking changes dramatically in the coming decades. In 2031 India will have emitted more CO2 than Japan. In 2021 China will have larger cumulative CO2 emissions than Western Europe, and in 2052 China will surpass the USA as the largest cumulative emitter. India is expected to have a larger total of cumulative emissions than Western Europe shortly after 2080.” (Botzen et al, called ‘Cumulative CO2 emissions: shifting international responsibilities’, Climate Policy, 8 (2008) 569 – 576.)

What does this shift in the facts of cumulative emissions mean for talk of responsibility and action? You might think that in about ten years China will be responsible for more cumulative damage to the planet than Europe, and, therefore, it will have a larger moral responsibility to take action than Europe. Maybe in the middle of this century, China will have a larger historical obligation to act than even the United States. Perhaps, nearer then end of this century, India will be more responsible for damage to our world than we are in parts of the West, and perhaps it too should then have a larger share of the moral burden for action.

There are, however, wrinkles, and probably something more than a simple connection between causal and moral responsibility is now needed if we are to think our way through the changing facts of cumulative emissions. It’s worth noticing that a lot of the emissions in the developing world are somehow partly ours, as they result from the production of goods that we buy. We have, in a way, outsourced our emissions.

But even if we look away from this, does it make a difference that the West got there first? If our emissions hadn’t been so high in the past, then some developing countries would not face the burden of moral trouble that they stand a good chance of being in relatively soon. In a sense, our generation, which knows better, is passing the hard moral choices on to those who will come after us, in our country and other countries. Does that force us to cut them a bit of moral slack, even as their emissions rise so dramatically?

Did or does the West have an obligation to help the developing world leapfrog past dirty energy – particularly since the developed world still has more cash and more power than those whose lives are just getting tolerable?

Or should we think that China and perhaps India are in fact in worse shape, morally speaking, given that the bulk of their industrial history, unlike the West’s, will happen against the backdrop of a clear understanding of climate change?

I don’t know how to answer these questions, but they are relatively new ones in reflection on the moral dimension of climate change, brought on by a shift in the facts as we know them. What’s clear is that arguments for action based on cumulative emissions histories are shifting along with those histories – it’s no longer that easy to talk about climate victims and villains.

Other shifts are perhaps more interesting, certainly more worrying, which have to do with per capita emissions and emissions rights, and we’ll come to those next, but first I’d very much like to know what you think about historical arguments for action on climate change.