<div dir="ltr">
<div class="">
<div class="">
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/"><img src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/misc/nytlogo153x23.gif" alt="The New York Times" align="left" border="0" hspace="0" vspace="0"></a>
</div>
<div class="">
</div>
</div>
<br clear="all"><hr align="left" size="1">
<div class="">March 30, 2013</div>
<h1>Our Inconsistent Ethical Instincts</h1>
<h6 class="">By
<span><span>MATTHEW HUTSON</span></span></h6>
<div id="articleBody">
<p>
MORAL quandaries often pit concerns about principles against concerns
about practical consequences. Should we ban assault rifles and large
sodas, restricting people’s liberties for the sake of physical health
and safety? Should we allow drone killings or torture, if violating one
person’s rights could save a thousand lives? </p>
<p>
We like to believe that the principled side of the equation is rooted in
deep, reasoned conviction. But a growing wealth of research shows that
those values often prove to be finicky, inconsistent intuitions, swayed
by ethically irrelevant factors. What you say now you might disagree
with in five minutes. And such wavering has implications for both public
policy and our personal lives. </p>
<p>
Philosophers and psychologists often distinguish between two ethical
frameworks. A utilitarian perspective evaluates an action purely by its
consequences. If it does good, it’s good. </p>
<p>
A deontological approach, meanwhile, also takes into account aspects of
the action itself, like whether it adheres to certain rules. Do not
kill, even if killing does good. </p>
<p>
No one adheres strictly to either philosophy, and it turns out we can be
nudged one way or the other for illogical reasons. </p>
<p>
For a recent paper to be published in the Journal of Experimental Social
Psychology, subjects were made to think either abstractly or concretely
— say, by writing about the distant or near future. Those who were
primed to think abstractly were more accepting of a hypothetical surgery
that would kill a man so that one of his glands could be used to save
thousands of others from a deadly disease. In other words, a very simple
manipulation of mind-set that did not change the specifics of the case
led to very different responses. </p>
<p>
Class can also play a role. <a href="http://static.squarespace.com/static/5014cf5ce4b006ef411a1485/t/5130e34ae4b0a32f37430f12/1362158410651/C%C3%B4t%C3%A9PiffWiller2013.pdf">Another paper</a>,
in the March issue of the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,
shows that upper-income people tend to have less empathy than those
from lower-income strata, and so are more willing to sacrifice
individuals for the greater good. </p>
<p>
Upper-income subjects took more money from another subject to multiply
it and give to others, and found it more acceptable to push a fat man in
front of a trolley to save five others on the track — both
outcome-oriented responses. </p>
<p>
But asking subjects to focus on the feelings of the person losing the
money made wealthier respondents less likely to accept such a trade-off.
</p>
<p>
Other recent research shows similar results: stressing subjects, rushing
them or reminding them of their mortality all reduce utilitarian
responses, most likely by preventing them from controlling their
emotions. </p>
<p>
Even the way a scenario is worded can influence our judgments, as
lawyers and politicians well know. In one study, subjects read a number
of variations of the classic <a href="http://experimentalphilosophy.typepad.com/experimental_philosophy/2005/09/the_trolley_pro.html">trolley dilemma</a>:
should you turn a runaway trolley away from five people and onto a
track with only one? When flipping the switch was described as saving
the people on the first track, subjects tended to support it. When it
was described as killing someone on the second, they did not. Same
situation, different answers. </p>
<p>
And other published studies have shown that our moods can make misdeeds
seem more or less sinful. Ethical violations become less offensive after
people watch a humor program like “Saturday Night Live.” But they
become more offensive after reading “Chicken Soup for the Soul,” which
triggers emotional elevation, or after smelling a mock-flatulence spray,
which triggers disgust. </p>
<p>
The scenarios in these papers are somewhat contrived (trolleys and
such), but they have real-world analogues: deciding whether to fire a
loyal employee for the good of the company, or whether to donate to a
single sick child rather than to an aid organization that could save
several. </p>
<p>
Regardless of whether you endorse following the rules or calculating
benefits, knowing that our instincts are so sensitive to outside factors
can prevent us from settling on our first response. Objective moral
truth doesn’t exist, and these studies show that even if it did, our
grasp of it would be tenuous. </p>
<p>
But we can encourage consistency in moral reasoning by viewing issues
from many angles, discussing them with other people and monitoring our
emotions closely. In recognizing our psychological quirks, we just might
find answers we can live with. </p>
<div class="">
<p><a href="http://magicalthinkingbook.com/author/">Matthew Hutson</a>,
the author of “The 7 Laws of Magical Thinking: How Irrational Beliefs
Keep Us Happy, Healthy, and Sane,” is writing a book on taboos.</p> </div>
<div class="">
</div>
</div>
<br>
<center>
</center>
<div id="upNextWrapper"><div style id="upNext"><div class=""><br style="clear:both"></div></div></div><br clear="all"><br>-- <br>Art Deco (Wayne A. Fox)<br><a href="mailto:art.deco.studios@gmail.com" target="_blank">art.deco.studios@gmail.com</a><br>
<br><img src="http://users.moscow.com/waf/WP%20Fox%2001.jpg"><br>
</div>