Article by Natalia Doran (Trustee POCA)
This article, originally intended to be a review of Hugh Warwick’s recently published Cull of the Wild, turned out, in the process of writing, to be more of a response to the book, a response explicitly from the point of view of animal rights. In the Introduction to his book Hugh Warwick states that he wants to have “an honest conversation about conservation”. My own aim is to suggest what a next turn in this conversation might be.
Overall, the main message of the book, imbedded in the dramatic framework of the
author’s interviews and travels, and accompanied by the recounting of many interesting and useful facts, is that we sometimes have to kill animals in the name of conservation. The message does not so much come across, as creeps into your consciousness through repetition: we have to kill some animals, sad though it is – sometimes to prevent the extinction of local species, sometimes to protect other animals, whom we deem to have a better claim to the habitat.
Many examples of this type of conservation are given: hedgehogs in the Orkney Islands, who threaten wading birds; mink who are blamed for the struggles of water voles, rats in various situations, deer, grey squirrels – the list goes on. Hugh Warwick meets and interviews many people, most of whom are conservationists engaged in the killing of animals, but some of whom, most notably the ethologist Marc Bekoff and Professor Wayne Linklater, are opposed to killing as a matter of principle. While the inclusion of these dissenting voices makes for ethically sound journalism, the overarching narrative of the book gives the impression that the author’s sympathies are on the side of the killers. Most sections reporting interviews with the killers are rounded off with tacit agreement, in the spirit of, “Well, this is very sad, but it has to be done”. Whereas the sections reporting opposition to the killing are concluded with an implied disagreement or criticism, e.g. “It was with Wayne Linklater that I found some of the stickier territory”. The criticism is twofold. First of all, those who oppose killing are accused of being unwilling to consider the middle ground – in Hugh Warwick’s view, a clear failure. Which begs the question of why the goal of every debate should be the finding of the middle ground. It could equally, if not preferably, be the finding of the truth, wherever it may lie. The second criticism is that humanity’s responsibility for saving species from extinction is being shunned. Especially in the cases where humans introduced predator species into new habitats, Cull of the Wild considers it the responsibility of the human to set things right, even if it takes extensive killing to do so. This criticism is far-reaching, and is worth considering in more detail. The following four considerations may be relevant.
- Biodiversity, species, individual.
In writing the Cull of the Wild, the author gives himself a rather generous starter pack: biodiversity is a self-evident good and species are self-evidently worth preserving. These propositions, however, can be, and are, questioned. As the ethicist Andrew Linzey pointed out, the concept of biodiversity is philosophically vacuous – why should there be a certain number of species, and not another? After all, it does not seem to bother anyone that only Homo Sapiens is left, of the many Hominid species that once walked the earth. As long as that one human species behaves itself, it does not occur to anyone to bemoan the fact that it is just one. With non-human animals, however, the survival of the largest possible number of species becomes an absolutized good, justifying the most horrific acts of cruelty. Furthermore, the extinction of species is demonstrably a natural and inevitable process. Yes, we should do all in our power to make sure we do not cause the extinctions. (A parallel with the death of individuals is valid: it is inevitable and natural that individuals die, but we should not cause these deaths.) But to make preventing these extinctions into an absolute goal, leading to extensive “eco-cleansing”, is simply illogical. Closely connected with the above point is the consideration of the moral value of individuals versus the moral value of species. This is where the watershed between conservation and animal rights often occurs: conservation prioritizes species (resulting in individual lives being sacrificed for their preservation), whereas animal protection prioritizes individuals (resulting in opposition to the killing of individuals for the sake of conservation). At first sight these priorities seem to be a matter of elective preference. But this is not so. If we ask ourselves why animals are accorded moral consideration in the first place, we usually answer that it is because of their sentience, i.e. the fact that animals feel joy, fear, pain, etc. But sentience is something that is predicated of individuals, not species. It is the individuals that feel joy, fear and pain, not the species. It follows that the moral priority of individuals is correct, and killing individual animals in order to preserve species is an example of putting the moral cart before the horse.
- Philosophical basis of the discussion.
The sort of conservation, largely espoused by Hugh Warwick, that considers it acceptable to kill some animals to help others, usually makes an appeal to science. The legitimacy of such an appeal can be questioned. Does science actually dictate that some animals are killed in order to help others? Science gives us the facts, the raw material for decision making, but it does not dictate one course of action or another. For example, science can tell us that euthanizing every human over the age of 60 would solve the NHS crisis. But the decision to thus cull or spare the seniors would be made with the help of a different set of decision-making tools, namely the tools of philosophy in general and ethics in particular. For most of the narration of the book the reader is invited to consider only two ethical positions: deontology, the idea that the most important thing in decision-making is abiding by the rules of morality (“do not kill”, “do not steal”, etc.), and utilitarianism, a system in which decisions would be made on the basis of the consequences of your actions, classically, whether your actions would cause pleasure or pain to the largest number of individuals. Hugh Warwick explicitly adopts the utilitarian approach, and this leads to problems. The most obvious problem is the frequent misapplication of the actual utilitarian principle. The book often morphs into the idea of the end justifying the means: for example, the extensive use of the anticoagulant poison brodifacoum and the deliberate introduction of myxomatosis into the rabbit population are mentioned matter-of-factly in this spirit. This is not a legitimate application of the utilitarian principle, which should be about calculating the pain and pleasure that an action causes, and not about justifying any course of action by its result. But even when applied in the correct way, utilitarianism in conservation is problematic. Utilitarian calculation of pain and pleasure is, by definition, based on exact and complete data. But in conservation such data is hardly ever available to us. There are just too many factors to consider, and it is usually impossible to predict exactly who will be affected by a certain action, and how. Human interference in nature is famously prone to the law of unintended consequences. One example was provided by the author himself: the reintroduction of red kites in Oxfordshire was deemed a “great conservation success story” – until it turned out that the kites have a taste for lapwing chicks, a bird that was marked for VIP conservation status. And the name of these examples is legion. Since utilitarianism requires exact and complete data, and in conservation it can never be fully reliable, it is questionable whether utilitarianism is in fact the best guide for decision- making in this human activity. Furthermore, there are instances where utilitarianism in conservation becomes completely self- contradictory, leading to the justification of illegal practices that fly in the face of public morality. One example is the killing of hen harriers by gamekeepers – in the utilitarian calculation, this is justified, because a large number of grouse benefit, as well as curlews. An ethical approach that runs into such contradictions is hardly fit for purpose. It is only on page 259 out of 293 that the third option (actually, the first option of classical philosophy), namely virtue ethics, is mentioned, and, even then, it is mentioned in such a cursory and slanted way as to present it as merely a kind of ethical instrumentalism, i.e. being nice to animals in order to promote human virtue. This position misrepresents, or rather under-represents, virtue ethics. Virtue ethics does not rule out the use of deontological or utilitarian principles, but makes them subordinate to the ethically thinking subject. We act in accordance with who we are. It is the only realistic ethical stance, since the only thing we can fully control is our own reaction to a situation. Unlike the utilitarian stance, it does not rely on evidence that is in principle unavailable to us, nor does its application lead to obvious moral contradictions.
- Logical error is dealing with causation.
Hugh Warwick’s argument for killer conservation, often centers around the fact that it was the humans who introduced ‘problem species’ into the habitat in the first place. The conclusion is drawn that it is therefore the responsibility of the humans to remove the offending individuals, most often by killing them. But to consider that the solution to a problem consists in reversing its cause is a logical error. If the cause of our breaking a leg was falling down the mountain, the solution is not climbing back up the mountain. Environmental toothpaste cannot be squeezed back into the tube, and, even if animals do cause problems and we did bring them into the habitat, killing them does not remove our misdeed, but adds another type of misdeed to it. - Positive and negative moral obligations
Killer conservation usually stems from a confusion in the understanding of our positive and negative moral obligations. It would therefore be useful to make these concepts explicit. In the most basic terms, positive moral obligations are the “do’s”, the things we should do, whereas negative moral obligations are the ‘don’ts’, the things we should not do. For example, if I have small children, I have a positive moral obligation to feed, house, educate them, etc. I also have a negative moral obligation not to harm them. In the case of children I meet in the street, I do not have the same positive moral obligations to provide for them. But I have exactly the same moral obligation not to harm them. It becomes clear that our positive moral obligations are, of necessity, limited by our resources, whereas our negative moral obligations are more or less universal. In the case of animals, when we take on moral obligations to help them, care should be taken not to take on positive responsibilities (to provide safety, etc., to further the survival of species) that are not necessarily our own, while ignoring negative moral imperatives not to harm, that should be universal. No one appointed us to police the environmental impact of other species. It would be a full-time job to control our own.
With these four considerations in mind, it appears that the case for killer conservation falls apart
logically, as well as being self-evidently cruel; the latter point being something that even the author of the Cull of the Wild himself admits. So why do it?