PRIMATES
AND
PHILOSOPHERS
How Morality Evolved
Frans de Waal
Robert Wright
Christine M. Korsgaard
Philip Kitcher
Peter Singer
EDITED AND INTRODUCED BY
Stephen Macedo and Josiah Ober
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS
PRINCETON AND OXFORD
Copyright © 2006 by Princeton University Press
Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street, Princeton,
New Jersey 08540
In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, 6 Oxford Street, Woodstock,
Oxfordshire OX20 1TW
All Rights Reserved
Fifth printing, and first paperback printing, 2009
Paperback ISBN 978-0-691-14129-9
The Library of Congress has cataloged the cloth edition of this book as follows
Waal, F. B. M. de (Frans B. M.), 1948–
Primates and philosophers : how morality evolved / Frans de Waal; edited and
introduced by Stephen Macedo and Josiah Ober; Christine M. Korsgaard … [et al.].
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-691-12447-6 (hardcover : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-691-12447-7 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. Ethics, Evolutionary. 2. Primates—Behavior. 3. Altruistic behavior in
animals. I. Macedo, Stephen, 1957– II. Ober, Josiah. III. Korsgaard,
Christine M. (Christine Marion) IV. Title.
BJ1311.W14 2006
171’.7—dc22
2006013905
British Library Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available
This book has been composed in Minion Family & Minion Condensed
Printed on acid-free paper. ∞
press.princeton.edu
Printed in the United States of America
5 7 9 10 8 6
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction:
Josiah Ober and Stephen Macedo
PART I Morally Evolved:
Primate Social Instincts, Human Morality,
and the Rise and Fall of “Veneer Theory”
Frans de Waal
Appendix A:
Anthropomorphism and Anthropodenial
Appendix B:
Do Apes Have a Theory of Mind?
Appendix C:
Animal Rights
PART II Comments
The Uses of Anthropomorphism
Robert Wright
Morality and the Distinctiveness of Human Action
Christine M. Korsgaard
Ethics and Evolution: How to Get Here from There
Philip Kitcher
Morality, Reason, and the Rights of Animals
Peter Singer
PART III Response to Commentators
The Tower of Morality
Frans de Waal
References
Contributors
Index
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Philip Kitcher, Christine M. Korsgaard, Richard Wrangham, and Robert A. Wright, who were the commentators for the Tanner Lectures that I gave at Princeton University in November of 2003. Also, I thank Peter Singer for his comments, which appear in this publication, and Stephen Macedo and Josiah Ober for their introduction. I am grateful to the Tanner Foundation, which endows the Tanner Lecture Series; to the Princeton University Press, with special thanks to Sam Elworthy and Jodi Beder, editor and copy editor; and to the staff of the Center for Human Values who organized the lectures and helped coordinate this book’s production: Stephen Macedo, director; Will Gallaher, former associate director; and Jan Logan, assistant director. Finally, I am grateful to Emory University’s Yerkes National Primate Research Center, in Atlanta, Georgia, and other centers and zoos at which I have conducted research, as well as to all of my many collaborators and graduate students for helping collect the data presented here.
Frans de Waal
March 2006
Introduction
JOSIAH OBER AND STEPHEN MACEDO
In the Tanner Lectures on Human Values that became the lead essay in this book, Frans de Waal brings his decades of work with primates, and his habit of thinking deeply about the meaning of evolution, to bear upon a fundamental question about human morality. Three distinguished philosophers and a prominent student of evolutionary psychology then respond to the way de Waal’s question is framed, and to his answer. Their essays are at once appreciative of de Waal’s endeavor and critical of certain of his conclusions. De Waal responds to his critics in an afterword. While there is considerable disagreement among the five essayists about both the question and how to answer it, they also share a good deal of common ground. First, all contributors to this book accept the standard scientific account of biological evolution as based on random natural selection. None suggests that there is any reason to suppose that humans are different in their metaphysical essence from other animals, or at least, none base their arguments on the idea that humans uniquely possess a transcendent soul.
A second important premise that is shared by de Waal and all four of his commentators is that moral goodness is something real, about which it is possible to make truth claims. Goodness requires, at a minimum, taking proper account of others. Badness, by the same token, includes the sort of selfishness that leads us to treat others improperly by ignoring their interests or treating them as mere instruments. The two basic premises of evolutionary science and moral reality establish the boundaries of the debate over the origins of goodness as it is set forth in this book. This means that those religious believers who are committed to the idea that humans have been uniquely endowed with special attributes (including a moral sense) by divine grace alone are not participants in the discussion as it is presented here. Nor are social scientists committed to a version of rational agent theory that regards the essence of human nature as an irreducible tendency to choose selfishness (free-riding, cheating) over voluntary cooperation. Nor, finally, are moral relativists, who believe that an action can be judged as right or wrong only locally, by reference to contingent and contextual considerations. So what we offer in this volume is a debate among five scholars who agree on some basic issues about science and morality. It is a serious and lively conversation among a group of thinkers who are deeply committed to the value and validity of science and to the value and reality of other-regarding morality.
The question that de Waal and his commentators seek to address is this: How, given that there are strong scientific reasons to suppose that selfishness (at least at the genetic level) is a primary mechanism of natural selection, did we humans come to be so strongly attached to the value of goodness? Or, to put it a bit differently, why don’t we think it is good to be bad? For those who believe that morality is real, but that it cannot be explained or justified simply by resort to the theological assumption that a unique human propensity to goodness is a product of a divine grace, this is a hard problem, and an important one.
De Waal’s aim is to argue against a set of answers to his “whence morality?” question that he describes as “Veneer Theory”—the argument that morality is only a thin veneer overlaid on an amoral or immoral core. De Waal suggests that Veneer Theory is (or at least was until recently) quite widely held. His primary target is Thomas Huxley, a scientist dubbed “Darwin’s bulldog” for his fierce defense of Darwin’s theory of evolution against its late-nineteenth-century detractors. De Waal argues that Huxley betrayed his own core Darwinian commitments in advocat
ing a view of morality as “garden tending”—a constant battle against the luxuriant weeds of immoralism that perennially threaten to take over the human psyche. De Waal’s other targets include some social contract theorists (notably Thomas Hobbes) who begin with a conception of humans as fundamentally asocial or even antisocial, and some evolutionary biologists who, in his view, tend to overgeneralize from the established role of selfishness in the natural selection process.
None of the five essayists in this volume identifies him- or herself as a “veneer theorist” in de Waal’s sense. Yet, as the essays show, Veneer Theory can be conceived in various ways. It may therefore be useful to describe a sort of ideal type of VT, even if this risks setting up a straw man. Ideal-type Veneer Theory assumes that humans are by nature bestial and therefore bad—that is, narrowly selfish—and thus should be expected to act badly—that is, to treat others improperly. Yet it is an observable fact that at least sometimes humans treat each other well and properly, just as if we were good. Since, by the argument, humans are basically bad, their good behavior must be explained as the product of a veneer of morality, mysteriously laid over the bad natural core. De Waal’s primary objection is that VT cannot identify the source of this veneer of goodness. The veneer is something that apparently exists outside nature and so must be rejected as a myth by anyone committed to scientific explanation of natural phenomena.
If the Veneer Theory of moral goodness is based on a myth, the phenomenon of human goodness must be explained in some other way. De Waal begins by reversing the initial premise: Humans are, he suggests, by nature good. Our “good nature” is inherited, along with much else, from our nonhuman ancestors through the ordinary Darwinian process of natural selection. In order to test this premise, he invites us to join him in looking carefully at the behavior our closest nonhuman relatives—first at chimpanzees, and then at other primates more distantly related to ourselves, and ultimately at non-primate social animals. If our closest relatives do in fact act as if they were good, and if we humans also act as if we were good, the methodological principle of parsimony urges us to suppose that the goodness is real, that the motivation for goodness is natural, and that the morality of humans and their relatives has a common source.
While human behavioral goodness is more fully developed than nonhuman behavioral goodness, the simpler nonhuman morality must, according to de Waal, be regarded, in a substantial sense, as the foundation of more complex human morality. The empirical evidence for de Waal’s “anti-veneer” theory linking human and nonhuman morality consists of careful observations of the behavior of humanity’s relatives.
De Waal has spent a long and extremely successful career minutely observing primate behavior and he has seen and recorded much goodness. In the process he has developed immense respect and fondness for his subjects. One part of the pleasure of reading de Waal on primates, a pleasure that radiates in each of the commentators’ essays, is his evident joy in his years of working with chimpanzees, bonobos, and capuchins, and his sense of them as his collaborators in a momentous undertaking.
De Waal concludes that the human capacity to act well at least sometimes, rather than badly all the time, has its evolutionary origins in emotions that we share with other animals—in involuntary (unchosen, pre-rational) and physiologically obvious (thus observable) responses to the circumstances of others. A fundamentally important form of emotional response is empathy. De Waal explains that the empathetic reaction is, in the first instance, a matter of “emotional contagion.” Creature A identifies directly with the circumstances of creature B, coming, as it were, to “feel his or her pain.” At this level, empathy is still in a sense selfish—A seeks to comfort B because A has “caught” B’s pain and is himself seeking comfort. At a more advanced level, however, emotional empathy can yield sympathy— that is, the recognition that B has situationally specific wants or needs that are different from those of A. De Waal offers the lovely and telling example of a chimpanzee trying to help an injured bird to fly away. Since flying is an action the chimpanzee herself obviously could never perform, the ape is responding to the bird’s particular needs and its distinctive way of being in the world.
Emotional contagion is commonly observed in many species; sympathy is only observed among certain of the great apes. Related emotional responses conducive to good behavior include reciprocal altruism and perhaps even a sense of fairness—although this last remains disputed (as Philip Kitcher points out). Once again, the most complex and sophisticated forms of these emotion-motivated (as de Waal argues) behaviors are uniquely observed among apes and a few other species—elephants, dolphins, and capuchins.
Emotional responses are, de Waal argues, the “building blocks” of human morality. Human moral behavior is considerably more elaborate than that of any nonhuman animal, but, in de Waal’s view, it is continuous with nonhuman behavior—just as sympathy in chimpanzees is more elaborate than but continuous with emotional contagion in other animals. Given this continuity of good nature, there is no need to imagine morality being mysteriously added to an immoral core. De Waal invites us to imagine ourselves, not as solid clay garden trolls covered by a thin veneer of gaudy paint, but as “Russian dolls”—our external moral selves are ontologically continuous with a nested series of inner “prehuman selves.” And all the way down to the tiny little figure in the very center, these selves are homogeneously “good-natured.”
As the vigor of the four responses demonstrates, de Waal’s conception of the origins and nature of human morality is a challenging one. Each of the commentators agrees with de Waal that ideal-type Veneer Theory is unattractive on the face of it, although they disagree on exactly what VT is, or whether any reasonable person could subscribe to it, at least in the robust form sketched above. Yet at the end of the day each of the commentators has developed something that might be described as a distant cousin of Veneer Theory. Robert Wright is forthright about this, calling his position “naturalistic Veneer Theory.” Indeed, as Peter Singer points out (p. 145), de Waal himself at one point speaks of how “fragile” is the human effort to expand the “circle of morality” to outsiders—a locution that seems to invite imagining at least certain extended forms of human morality as a sort of veneer.
De Waal’s concern for how far the “circle of morality” can be expanded without becoming untenably fragile underlines the issue that leads his commentators to draw a bright line between human morality and animal behavior. This is their firm conviction that “genuine” (Kitcher) morality must also be universalizable. This conviction excludes animals from the ambit of genuinely moral beings. It places them “beyond moral judgment,” in Korsgaard’s words, because nonhuman animals do not universalize their good behavior. The tendency towards partiality for insiders is a constant among nonhuman social animals. Admittedly, the same partial tendency may be endogenous to humans, as de Waal believes. And it may be an endemic threat to human morality, as Robert Wright argues. But, as Kitcher, Korsgaard, and Singer all point out, the universalization of the set of beings (all persons, or, with Singer, all creatures with interests) to which moral duties are owed is treated as conceptually feasible by humans (and as conceptually essential by some human philosophers). And it is at least sometimes put into practice by them.
Each commentator asks a similar question, albeit in quite different philosophical registers: If even the most advanced nonhuman animals ordinarily limit their good behavior to insiders (kin or community members), can we really speak of their behavior as moral? And if the answer is no (as each concludes), then we must assume that human beings have some capacity that is discontinuous with the natural capacities of all nonhuman species. De Waal acknowledges the issue, noting (as Singer again points out, p. l44) that “It is only when we make general, impartial judgments that we can really begin to speak of moral approval and disapproval.”
The most obvious capacity discontinuity between humans and nonhuman animals is in the area of speech, and the self-conscious employ
ment of reason that we associate strongly with the uniquely human use of language. Speech, language use, and reason are obviously connected to cognition. So what can we say about nonhuman cognition? No one participating in this collection supposes that any nonhuman species is the cognitive equal of human beings, but the question remains whether humans are uniquely capable of moral reasoning.
This is the point in the debate at which defining anthropomorphism becomes a lively issue; Wright in particular focuses on the importance of the anthropomorphism question. De Waal is an ardent and thoughtful advocate of a critical and parsimonious version of scientific anthropomorphism— which he sharply distinguishes from the scattershot sentimental anthropomorphism typical of much (albeit delightful) popular writing about animals. None of the four commentators can fairly be characterized as an advocate of “anthropodenial”—de Waal’s term for the practice of those who, perhaps out of an aesthetic horror of nature, refuse to acknowledge the continuities between humans and other animals. Much of the debate among philosophers and animal behaviorists over human uniqueness has centered on the question of whether any nonhuman animal is capable of developing anything like a real Theory of Mind (ToM)—that is to say, whether or not the capacity to imagine the contents of another being’s mind as different from one’s own is uniquely human. There is some experimental data that may lend support to both sides of this question. De Waal answers doubters by noting that individual chimpanzees can recognize themselves in a mirror (thus demonstrating the self-consciousness often supposed as an antecedent condition for ToM). He pointedly draws our attention to the stark anthropocentrism of demanding that ape subjects be able to formulate a theory of human minds. But the question of nonhuman ToM remains undecided; clearly more research on this area is called for.
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