The
Journal of Philosophy, Science & Law
Volume
9, July 30, 2009
www.miami.edu/ethics/jpsl
A Review of Primates and Philosophers: How Morality
Evolved*
* Primary author Frans de Waal, edited by
Josiah Ober and Stephen Macedo, with commentary by Robert Wright, Christine M.
Korsgaard, Philip Kitcher, and Peter Singer. Princeton University Press, 2009,
232 pages, ISBN: 978-0-691-14129-9.
** Doctoral student in philosophy at Indiana
University, Bloomington.
It
is hard to deny the importance of Frans de Waal’s work on primate behavior,
which spans over three decades, including the last 18 years at the Yerkes
National Primate Research Center at Emory University. De Waal’s work has
contributed to a substantial shift in scientific and popular thinking about
animal social behavior. Specifically, de Waal’s research on primate
peacemaking, conflict resolution, and pro-social behavior has discredited the
assumption that primates are purely selfish, individualistic, and aggressive
beasts. His work makes the case that not only do many primates exhibit truly
other-regarding behavior but also that this behavior is as deeply rooted in
their nature as is any instinct for self-preservation. Primates behave
pro-socially not despite their
biological dispositions but rather as a natural manifestation of them. In
short—de Waal has argued—primates, our closest evolutionary ancestors, are
fundamentally good-natured.
In
the recent volume Primates and
Philosophers: How Morality Evolved, edited by Josiah Ober and Stephen
Macedo, and based on de Waal’s 2003 Tanner Lectures on Human Values, he extends
that thesis into an exploration of the evolutionary origins of human morality.
De Waal’s central claim in the lead essay is that the pro-social emotional
dispositions of non-human primates constitute the “building blocks” of human
morality. Following de Waal’s essay are separate responses by journalist and
science writer Robert Wright, philosopher of science Philip Kitcher, and moral
philosophers Christine M. Korsgaard and Peter Singer. De Waal concludes the
volume with a response to his commentators.
Primates and
Philosophers demonstrates
some of the perils of addressing a topic of so much importance to so many from
perspectives as varied as evolutionary biology, experimental psychology, and
moral philosophy. I will discuss some of
these perils below. But, more importantly, let me emphasize that this volume
also demonstrates the promise, benefit, and, indeed, inevitability of bringing
these perspectives into the same conversation. I recommend this volume to
anyone interested in the evolutionary origins of morality. Primates and Philosophers is rich enough to interest scientists and
philosophers, but it is also accessible enough to engage students who are new
to the topic. Indeed, it could easily be used as an instructional tool in an
undergraduate course on evolution and ethics.
After
canvassing the central claims and arguments of de Waal’s lead essay, I will
discuss some of the main concerns that arise between de Waal and his
commentators.
The Evolution of
Morality and the Rejection of Veneer Theory
Discourse
about the “evolution of morality” is ambiguous. “Morality,” in one sense, could
simply refer to a set of moral rules or principles (e.g., the Golden Rule, the
Principle of Utility). But “morality,” in another sense, could refer to the set
of human practices in which such moral principles are implicated—actions that
are guided by such principles, or judged in terms of them, or otherwise
mediated by moral beliefs or attitudes. It is this latter phenomenon that de
Waal is investigating. He is interested in those underlying psychological
capacities without which an individual’s behavior could not qualify as either
moral or immoral (16). I will call this set of relevant capacities “moral
agency.” Thus, de Waal’s guiding question is whether the foundations of human
moral agency are to be found in the psychological and behavioral dispositions
of our evolutionary ancestors. And his answer is a resounding “Yes.” The “building
blocks” of human moral agency, he argues, are present in other primates, and
they are constituted by a range of other-regarding emotions and behavioral
responses whose evolutionary function was to facilitate social coordination and
cohesion.
De
Waal bases his conclusion on both methodological considerations and a rich
supply of empirical observations. Methodologically, de Waal pits his argument
against what he calls the “Veneer Theory” of morality, a theory he attributes
to T.H. Huxley (an attribution disputed by Kitcher), G.C. Williams, Richard
Dawkins, and Robert Wright (an attribution disputed by Wright). Veneer Theory,
as de Waal characterizes it, says little about what constitutes moral agency;
rather, it concerns whether or not the capacities underlying our apparent moral
agency are natural, and it holds that
they are not. Veneer Theory, de Waal writes,
…views morality as a
cultural innovation achieved by our species alone. This school does not see
moral tendencies as part and parcel of human nature. Our ancestors, it claims,
became moral by choice. ... [Veneer Theory] assumes that deep down we are not
truly moral. It views morality as a cultural overlay, a thin veneer hiding an
otherwise selfish and brutish nature (6).
Because,
according to this gloss, Veneer Theory holds that “deep down we are not truly
moral,” it seems to hold that moral agency is, strictly speaking, illusory.
Huxley, however, affirms that we can exercise genuine moral agency but that we
do so despite our nature—we are moral gardeners who must constantly keep the
weeds of our nature at bay (7). The biologist Michael Ghiselin, though,
suggests that, if we are not moral by nature, then we are not really moral at
all. What appears to be morality is just that—an appearance, a veneer—a thesis
encapsulated in his famous words, “Scratch an ‘altruist,’ and watch a
‘hypocrite’ bleed” (10).
[1]
Veneer
Theory faces a number of problems, according to de Waal. First, because Veneer
Theorists deny that our moral tendencies are natural, they appear to be at a
loss for how to explain scientifically why we have these tendencies and how we
exercise them. Second, Veneer Theory’s assumption that we are fundamentally
asocial and selfish—and that the “social contract” developed only in service of
individual self-interest—flies in the face of overwhelming empirical evidence
to the contrary. De Waal writes, “[T]here never was a point at which we became
social: descended from highly social ancestors—a long line of monkeys and
apes—we have been group-living forever” (4). The state of nature may have been “nasty,
brutish, and short”; but for humans and their primate ancestors, it has always
been “social to the core” (5). Third, if de Waal is right that our primate
ancestors demonstrate a range of other-regarding behavioral dispositions, then
the most evolutionarily parsimonious explanation of human other-regarding
dispositions is that they are homologous with our ancestors’ traits.
De
Waal supports his positive thesis by elaborating on the second and third points
above and by citing empirical work on animal behavior collected over decades of
research. The observations he shares about primate social behavior are
fascinating, and his findings are at once surprising and plausible. For
example, de Waal writes about Krom, a chimpanzee at the Arnhem Zoo, who one day
became interested in a water-filled tire hanging from a log. Her attempts to
extract the tire merely put it further out of reach. Witnessing Krom’s
struggle, Krom’s seven-year-old “nephew” Jakie intervened to help, pushing away the other tires and gently
lowering the water-filled tire. He placed it in front of Krom, who proceeded to
drink up the water with relish (32).
Another
example is consolation behavior in
chimpanzees. After an aggressive conflict between two chimps, a bystander will
often console the “loser” of the conflict, by putting an arm around him for
example. In such cases of consolation, there is no clear benefit to the
consoling party (33-4).
De
Waal has also observed that chimpanzees are more likely to share food with
chimps that have groomed them earlier, thus expressing a kind of gratitude (43).
These
observations, especially the first two, purport to reveal a concern for others
that is neither accidental nor reducible to indirect self-interest. Rather, de
Waal argues, these behaviors represent the exercise of a capacity to empathize
with other individuals, a capacity whose core is a simple Perception-Action Mechanism (PAM). The PAM, explains de Waal,
“provides an observer (the ‘subject’) with access to the emotional state of
another (the ‘object’) through the subject’s own neural and bodily
representations” (37). He continues,
When the subject
attends to the object’s state, the subject’s neural representations of similar
states are automatically activated. The closer and more similar subject and
object are, the easier it will be for the subject’s perception to activate
motor and autonomic responses that match the object’s (e.g., changes in heart
rate, skin conductance, facial expression, body posture). This activation
allows the subject to get ‘under the skin’ of the object, sharing its feelings
and needs, which embodiment in turn fosters sympathy, compassion, and helping
(37).
The
existence of the PAM itself is evolutionarily explicable; such a mechanism
would have conferred a significant evolutionary benefit to our primate
ancestors, whose individual survival depended on cooperation and coordination
with conspecifics. And, yet, this very mechanism would have also opened the
door to a concern for others that transcends self-preservation—i.e., moral
concern (15).
[2]
If
empathy is what makes moral agency possible, and, if empathy evolved through
the natural selection of the PAM, then the roots of moral agency are indeed
natural, contra Veneer Theory.
[3]
De
Waal’s commentators all reject the simplistic version of Veneer Theory that he
sets up as his foil. And, although some of them (Kitcher, for example) take
issue with de Waal’s conclusions about the extent of primates’ altruistic tendencies, all of them agree that de Waal has revealed
a non-trivial level of empathic response in non-human primates. Where they
disagree with de Waal is on the question of whether empathy and other “moral
sentiments” constitute the foundations of human moral agency. At issue, then,
is whether these emotional dispositions are the fundamental capacities
underlying full-blooded moral agency. This issue proves to be paramount in the
commentators’ responses to de Waal, to which I will turn now.
Cognitive Mechanisms and
Emotional Mechanisms
Robert
Wright’s main objection to de Waal concerns the kind of anthropomorphic
language that de Waal sometimes uses. Wright claims that de Waal slides between emotional and cognitive anthropomorphic language. That is, he sometimes explains
an animal’s behavior in terms of its guidance by emotions (empathy, personal
distress, anger) and sometimes in terms of strategic calculation or conscious
deliberation (reasoning, intending, deciding). In most cases, both types of
explanation are compatible with the observed behavior—after all, many of our
emotional dispositions are “proxies for strategic calculation” in the sense
that they were naturally selected for their benefit in efficiently achieving
some goal of the organism (86). But, Wright argues, in the absence of
independent evidence that non-human primates possess the capacities for
strategic calculation and conscious deliberation—linguistic ability, for
example—de Waal should restrict his language to emotional anthropomorphism.
[4]
Wright
is less clear about what is at stake, with respect to moral agency, between
positing conscious deliberation and positing the exercise of involuntary
emotional mechanisms. If the latter are “proxies” for the former, then is there
anything significant that they lack but that the former has? Or are they simply
two routes to the same goal? Korsgaard and Kitcher suggest an answer to these
questions.
Wantons and Persons
Korsgaard
and Kitcher invoke the philosopher Harry G. Frankfurt’s distinction between a wanton and a person.
[5]
A wanton
is a creature that acts on whatever desire or impulse is strongest at that
moment, without concern for whether or not that desire or impulse ought to be effective in moving the
creature. Korsgaard and Kitcher both argue that de Waal has shown, at most,
that non-human primates are empathic wantons. Primates’ actions are, on
occasion, motivated by involuntary, empathic emotional impulses. (Kitcher
includes a careful discussion of the degrees of psychological altruism and agrees
with de Waal that primates have demonstrated altruism of “moderate intensity”
(130).) But because they lack the ability to step back from and reflect on
these impulses—and to be guided by their reflective judgments about their
motivations—they fall short of being persons. They fail to satisfy a necessary
condition for moral agency.
Korsgaard
expresses this idea in Kantian terms. Although non-human primates act from
truly other-regarding motivations, they are essentially “pushed and pulled” by
these impulses. They lack the autonomy with which a person can evaluate those impulses and thus choose which ends she
will pursue. Korsgaard writes, “The morality of your action is not a function
of the content of your intentions [or emotions]. It is a function of the
exercise of normative self-government” (112). Again, at issue between de Waal
and his commentators is not whether non-human primates demonstrate empathy;
rather, it is whether empathy constitutes the fundamental criterion of moral
agency. Although Korsgaard associates the point about reflective
self-government with Kant, Kitcher finds parallel considerations in Hume and
Adam Smith (132-3). And even Peter Singer, a utilitarian, registers agreement
with Kant that the capacity to reflect on our given emotional responses is
central to moral agency (149-50).
The Scope of Moral
Concern
One
more issue that arises in the commentaries bears mentioning. De Waal notes in
his essay that other-regarding emotional dispositions evolved as a distinctly in-group phenomenon and that this in-group/out-group mentality exists today in our current moral practices
(53). The point here is that moral concern, although by definition extending
beyond oneself, only rarely and tenuously extends beyond one’s own community.
It is crucial to understand this claim as a descriptive observation about how people are in fact inclined to regard those outside their
community and not as a normative claim about the appropriate scope of moral principles. De Waal sometimes seems
to elide this distinction.
Singer,
for example, argues that, because the other-regarding emotional dispositions
cited by de Waal are always limited in scope, they fail to demonstrate the
feature of impartiality that is definitive of moral concern as a normative
principle (145). De Waal’s response to Singer is somewhat puzzling. He agrees
that primates’ other-regarding concern is limited to their in-group, but he appears to take the further step of endorsing this limited scope of concern.
“It is not just that we are biased in favor of the innermost circles
(ourselves, our family, our community, our species),” he writes, “we ought to be. Loyalty is a moral duty”
(165). Now, to make this claim is to take a substantive moral position, and, as
such, it requires a moral argument. The apparent conflict between moral
impartiality and personal loyalty is an area of considered philosophical
debate. But to reach de Waal’s conclusion, it is not sufficient to say that, as
a matter of fact, most of us demonstrate in-group biases. It is also not
sufficient to argue—as de Waal seems to do—that in-group biases are morally
valuable in virtue of their instrumental value to group cohesion. This argument begs the question: after all, the
unargued privilege of one’s own group over others is precisely what the notion
of moral impartiality throws into question.
* * *
The
debate between de Waal and his commentators reflects both the importance and
the difficulty of addressing these two questions together:
(1)
Does human moral agency have its roots in our evolutionary ancestors?
(2)
What are the criteria of human moral agency anyway?
De
Waal’s commentators all argue, either implicitly or explicitly, that a
developed answer to the second question throws some doubt on de Waal’s positive
answer to the first question. Kitcher, for example, regards de Waal’s talk
about the “building blocks” of morality to be unacceptably vague—the problem
being that, although de Waal has garnered impressive evidence for pro-social
tendencies in primates, he “hasn’t thought as hard about the human phenomenon
he takes to be anticipated or foreshadowed in chimpanzee social life” (123).
The commentators argue convincingly that the criteria of human moral agency
include far more than empathic or altruistic dispositions. Of course, none of
this is to deny that de Waal’s emphasis on the continuities between humans and other primates broadens the scope
of inquiry in which moral philosophers and psychologists must work. And that is
a notable achievement in itself.
