DebateLabKIT/deepa2-corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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gorillas over those of grasses. If, however, the point is that
humans, gorillas, yeasts, and grasses are all parts of an interrelated
whole, then it can still be asked how this establishes that
they are equal in intrinsic worth. Is it because every living thing
plays its role in an ecosystem on which all depend for their
survival? But, firstly, even if this showed that there is intrinsic
worth in micro-organisms and plants as a whole, it says nothing
at all about the value of individual micro-organisms or plants,
since no individual is necessary for the survival of the ecosystem
as a whole. Secondly, the fact that all organisms are part of an
interrelated whole does not suggest that they are all of intrinsic
worth, let alone of equal intrinsic worth. They may be of worth
only because they are needed for the existence of the whole,
and the whole may be of worth only because it supports the
existence of conscious beings.
The ethics of deep ecology thus fail to yield persuasive answers
to questions about the value of the lives of individual living
beings. Perhaps, though, this is the wrong kind of question to
ask. As the science of ecology looks at systems rather than
individual organisms, so ecological ethics might be more plausible
if applied at a higher level, perhaps at the level of species
and ecosystems. Behind many attempts to derive values from
ecological ethics at this level lies some form of holism - some
sense that the species or ecosystem is not just a collection of
individuals, but really an entity in its own right. This holism is
made explicit in Lawrence Johnson's A Morally Deep World.
Johnson is quite prepared to talk about the interests of a species,
in a sense that is distinct from the sum of the interests of each
member of the species, and to argue that the interests of a
species, or an ecosystem, ought to be taken into account, alongside
individual interests, in our moral deliberations. In The Ecological
Self, Freya Mathews contends that any 'self-realising
system' has intrinsic value in that it seeks to maintain or preserve
282
The Environment
itself. While living organisms are paradigm examples of selfrealising
systems, Mathews, like Johnson, includes species and
ecosystems as holistic entities or selves with their own form of
realisation. She even includes the entire global ecosystem, following
James Lovelock in referring to it by the name of the
Greek goddess of the earth, Gaia. On this basis she defends her
own form of biocentric egalitarianism.
There is, of course, a real philosophical question about
whether a species or an ecosystem can be considered as the sort
of individual that can have interests, or a 'self' to be realised;
and even if it can, the deep ecology ethic will face problems
similar to those we identified in considering the idea of reverence
for life. For it is necessary, not merely that trees, species,
and ecosystems can properly be said to have interests, but that
they have morally significant interests. If they are to be regarded
as 'selves' it will need to be shown that the survival or realisation
of that kind of self has moral value, independently of the value
it has because of its importance in sustaining conscious life.
We saw in discussing the ethic of reverence for life that one
way of establishing that an interest is morally significant is to
ask what it is like for the entity affected to have that interest
unsatisfied. The same question can be asked about selfrealisation:
what is it like for the self to remain unrealised? Such
questions yield intelligible answers when asked of sentient
beings, but not when asked of trees, species, or ecosystems. The
fact that, as James Lovelock points out in Gaia: A New Look at
Life on Earth, the biosphere can respond to events in ways that
resemble a self-maintaining system, does not in itself show that
the biosphere consciously desires to maintain itself. Calling the
global ecosystem by the name of a Greek goddess seems a nice
idea, but it may not be the best way of helping us to think
clearly about its nature. Similarly, on a smaller scale, there is
nothing that corresponds to what it feels like to be an ecosystem
flooded by a dam, because there is no such feeling. In this respect
trees, ecosystems, and species are more like rocks than they are
283
Practical Ethics
like sentient beings; so the divide between sentient and nonsentient
creatures is to that extent a firmer basis for a morally
important boundary than the divide between living and nonliving
things, or between holistic entities and any other entities
that we might not regard as holistic. (Whatever these other
entities could be: even a single atom is, when seen from the
appropriate level, a complex system that 'seeks' to maintain
itself.)
This rejection of the ethical basis for a deep ecology ethic does
not mean that the case for the preservation of wilderness is not
strong. All it means is that one kind of argument - the argument
from the intrinsic value of the plants, species, or ecosystems -
is, at best, problematic. Unless it can be placed on a different,
and firmer footing, we should confine ourselves to arguments
based on the interests of sentient creatures, present and future,
human and non-human. These arguments are quite sufficient
to show that, at least in a society where no one needs to destroy
wilderness in order to obtain food for survival or materials for
shelter from the elements, the value of preserving the remaining
significant areas of wilderness greatly exceeds the economic
values gained by its destruction.
DEVELOPING AN ENVIRONMENTAL ETHIC
In the long run, the set of ethical virtues praised and the set of
ethical prohibitions adopted by the ethic of specific societies will
always reflect the conditions under which they must live and
work in order to survive. That statement is close to being a
tautology, because if a society's ethic did not take into account
whatever was needed for survival, the society would cease to

gorillas over those of grasses. If, however, the point is that

humans, gorillas, yeasts, and grasses are all parts of an interrelated

whole, then it can still be asked how this establishes that

they are equal in intrinsic worth. Is it because every living thing

plays its role in an ecosystem on which all depend for their

survival? But, firstly, even if this showed that there is intrinsic

worth in micro-organisms and plants as a whole, it says nothing

at all about the value of individual micro-organisms or plants,

since no individual is necessary for the survival of the ecosystem

as a whole. Secondly, the fact that all organisms are part of an

interrelated whole does not suggest that they are all of intrinsic

worth, let alone of equal intrinsic worth. They may be of worth

only because they are needed for the existence of the whole,

and the whole may be of worth only because it supports the

existence of conscious beings.

The ethics of deep ecology thus fail to yield persuasive answers

to questions about the value of the lives of individual living

beings. Perhaps, though, this is the wrong kind of question to

ask. As the science of ecology looks at systems rather than

individual organisms, so ecological ethics might be more plausible

if applied at a higher level, perhaps at the level of species

and ecosystems. Behind many attempts to derive values from

ecological ethics at this level lies some form of holism - some

sense that the species or ecosystem is not just a collection of

individuals, but really an entity in its own right. This holism is

made explicit in Lawrence Johnson's A Morally Deep World.

Johnson is quite prepared to talk about the interests of a species,

in a sense that is distinct from the sum of the interests of each

member of the species, and to argue that the interests of a

species, or an ecosystem, ought to be taken into account, alongside

individual interests, in our moral deliberations. In The Ecological

Self, Freya Mathews contends that any 'self-realising

system' has intrinsic value in that it seeks to maintain or preserve

282

The Environment

itself. While living organisms are paradigm examples of selfrealising

systems, Mathews, like Johnson, includes species and

ecosystems as holistic entities or selves with their own form of

realisation. She even includes the entire global ecosystem, following

James Lovelock in referring to it by the name of the

Greek goddess of the earth, Gaia. On this basis she defends her

own form of biocentric egalitarianism.

There is, of course, a real philosophical question about

whether a species or an ecosystem can be considered as the sort

of individual that can have interests, or a 'self' to be realised;

and even if it can, the deep ecology ethic will face problems

similar to those we identified in considering the idea of reverence

for life. For it is necessary, not merely that trees, species,

and ecosystems can properly be said to have interests, but that

they have morally significant interests. If they are to be regarded

as 'selves' it will need to be shown that the survival or realisation

of that kind of self has moral value, independently of the value

it has because of its importance in sustaining conscious life.

We saw in discussing the ethic of reverence for life that one

way of establishing that an interest is morally significant is to

ask what it is like for the entity affected to have that interest

unsatisfied. The same question can be asked about selfrealisation:

what is it like for the self to remain unrealised? Such

questions yield intelligible answers when asked of sentient

beings, but not when asked of trees, species, or ecosystems. The

fact that, as James Lovelock points out in Gaia: A New Look at

Life on Earth, the biosphere can respond to events in ways that

resemble a self-maintaining system, does not in itself show that

the biosphere consciously desires to maintain itself. Calling the

global ecosystem by the name of a Greek goddess seems a nice

idea, but it may not be the best way of helping us to think

clearly about its nature. Similarly, on a smaller scale, there is

nothing that corresponds to what it feels like to be an ecosystem

flooded by a dam, because there is no such feeling. In this respect

trees, ecosystems, and species are more like rocks than they are

283

Practical Ethics

like sentient beings; so the divide between sentient and nonsentient

creatures is to that extent a firmer basis for a morally

important boundary than the divide between living and nonliving

things, or between holistic entities and any other entities

that we might not regard as holistic. (Whatever these other

entities could be: even a single atom is, when seen from the

appropriate level, a complex system that 'seeks' to maintain

itself.)

This rejection of the ethical basis for a deep ecology ethic does

not mean that the case for the preservation of wilderness is not

strong. All it means is that one kind of argument - the argument

from the intrinsic value of the plants, species, or ecosystems -

is, at best, problematic. Unless it can be placed on a different,

and firmer footing, we should confine ourselves to arguments

based on the interests of sentient creatures, present and future,

human and non-human. These arguments are quite sufficient

to show that, at least in a society where no one needs to destroy

wilderness in order to obtain food for survival or materials for

shelter from the elements, the value of preserving the remaining

significant areas of wilderness greatly exceeds the economic

values gained by its destruction.

DEVELOPING AN ENVIRONMENTAL ETHIC

In the long run, the set of ethical virtues praised and the set of

ethical prohibitions adopted by the ethic of specific societies will

always reflect the conditions under which they must live and

work in order to survive. That statement is close to being a

tautology, because if a society's ethic did not take into account

whatever was needed for survival, the society would cease to