The Fear of Death

Shakespeare’s Hamlet advised us, “What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause.” Death, he soliloquized, is an undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, the thought of which makes us bear the woes of this life rather than take up our bare bodkins and end all our suffering in one decisive stab. Death, as the story goes, is something to be feared, not merely as an end to life, but as an intractably mysterious state into which individuals go when their earthly time is up, a state that might contain more of the same suffering and woe as our present situation, in greater or lesser proportion.  This story of death as a change of state of an individual, as we shall see, begins to seem less and less plausible the closer one inspects it.  If death is not a change of state or venue, but simply the annihilation of an individual, what attitudes might we rationally take towards death, and toward the fact of our own mortality? 

The view of death as annihilation is in fact not newer than the one expressed by our friend Hamlet. The Greek atomist philosopher Epicurus once quipped “If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which cannot exist when I do?” Since I could not be around to experience death as any sort of state, anymore than I could have had experiences before my birth, I should thus take no attitude, fearful or otherwise, towards it. It is this picture of death as a state into which we go which Hamlet paints, and which Epicurus rejects. Is death then nothing to us, as Epicurus’ remark would lead us to believe, or might there be some sense to be made of death such that it would be rational to take some sort of attitude towards this impending annihilation? 

If we are to talk intelligibly about death, we must first become clear about what we mean by the word ‘death.’ We might use the word in several senses. We might perhaps speak of death as an event either within the history of an individual, or its terminal limit, or alternately as an ongoing state of individuals, or as the mere prospect of our own eventual mortality. Much of the bulk of our inquiry hinges upon these different uses of the term, and whether adequate sense can be made out of the various uses. 

First, we might consider the death of a person as the terminal event of his or her life, after which that person is no more—the boundary of one’s life on the opposite end of the timeline as the boundary at which the person came into existence. If this is what we mean by death, several things follow. It is then the case that death is not a state that one can be in or experience, nor is it an event within the timeline of an individual that marks the transition from one state to another. Instead it is simply the event marking this individual’s annihilation. There is nothing that it is like for a person to be dead, as it is not a possible experience for an individual.  The individual simply no longer exists. Epicurus’ statement expresses the heart of the matter: “When death is, I am not.”

Second, we might instead take death to be an event within the timeline of an individual person which marks a transition from some state of the individual to another, or a travel from the “realm of life” to some other realm—Hamlet’s undiscovered country, or some of the various religious conceptions of the afterlife, perhaps. Numerous questions arise upon inspection of this view, however, hinging upon precisely what constitutes an individual person. Since death, on any conception, entails the cessation of the physical processes of life and the eventual decay of the physical body, a physicalist understanding of a person is ruled out if one is to take this position. There are several other conceptions of an individual, however—those dualistic models involving the concept of souls, which we must now explore if we wish to make sense of this second understanding of death.

In Thinking Clearly About Death, philosopher Jay Rosenberg catalogues three theories regarding souls that might seem prima facie plausible. The first, the “having” theory, is derived from the way in which we often speak of individuals as having a muscular body or a generous soul. When we say however, that a person has a body and has a soul, what can we possibly mean by that. “Having” seems to imply possession, but what then constitutes this person that possesses both a body and soul?

If we identify a person as an entity that stands in this relation of having with both a body and soul, we are no closer to understanding what a person is than we were before, and thus have no more reason to accept the claim that a person continues to exist after death. For even if this soul were to continue to exist following the death of the person with whom it stands in this relation, it does not thereby follow that the person who currently has it will continue to exist after his or her death. The person and the soul, on this view are two separate entities standing in this particular relation of having, the one to the other. The fact that many things we possess may continue to exist after my eventual death sadly does not inspire very much confidence in our own prospects for survival.

What’s more, the linguistic conventions that first suggested the view are amenable to paraphrase into statements that do not presume entities such as souls or bodies separate from the individual itself. Statements like “He has a muscular body,” and “She has a generous soul” can be paraphrased into the more ontologically innocuous “He is muscular,” and “She is generous,” respectively, rendering the linguistic motivations for the “having” view illusory. 

A second theory that makes use of souls is the composite entity or “team” theory. On this view, a person is not some sort of entity that has a body or a soul, but rather a composite entity, constituted by a body and soul joined together. We have a person if and only if we have a soul and a body united in the proper way. Now this theory has the benefit that, unlike the previous attempt, it does give us an idea of what a person is, yet upon inspection it leaves us unable to make sense of a person’s continued existence after bodily death. In fact, ex hypothesi, the view logically precludes the continued existence of a person after bodily death. If a person just is both a body and a soul conjoined together, then the destruction of the body and the concomitant dissolution of the union between the two entails the annihilation of said person. 

The third theory, rather than defining a person as an entity that has both a soul and a body, or an entity composed of a soul and body united, defines a person as simply being a soul. Death, on this view, is the event at which the soul departs the physical body that the soul inhabits. Whether this soul will continue to exist after departing the body is an open question, however, as no answer is implied by the theory. What benefit this theory does have is that it does not logically preclude a person’s continued existence after bodily death.  Still, it leaves this continued existence only as a mere possibility, and does not lend any added plausibility to the hypothesis. 

When one considers what the life of a disembodied soul might consist in, it begins to seem less and less plausible or indeed desirable. Without eyes, ears, and other sense organs, it would have no incoming sensations of the sort that make up the bulk of human or animal phenomenal experience. Without the neural structures responsible for the formation and storage of memories (or something analogous), it would seem to be a permanent amnesiac. Without something like a motor cortex and the muscular system, it is hard to imagine it able to manipulate the physical world or communicate with its inhabitants in any manner. If we go on like this we are liable to reduce the possible abilities of a disembodied soul to nothing. For if the soul is supposed to be the subject of experiences, it is unclear what sort of experience this soul could possibly have absent a body causally embedded in the world. Can there be a subject of experience if there is nothing left to be experienced by it? 

If one wishes to dispute these claims, and to advance the view that a disembodied soul would be perfectly capable of sensing, thinking, remembering, communicating, and the other activities that seem to be characteristic of persons, then he or she will be at pains to explain whence comes the need for a physical body in the first place. It seems it must become a mere redundancy. Furthermore, if these abilities of the soul, and thus of a person (on this view) are independent of the physical body, then what sense can we make of those with brain damage who exhibit marked changes in personality and deficiencies in these various abilities? One would have to surmise that the person in actuality retains these abilities, and that these observable physical behaviors, which suggest the contrary, are illusory. When a person suffering from a damaged Wernicke’s area of the temporal lobe appears to everyone involved not to comprehend language, the soul theorist must explain such observations away, holding that the person, i.e., the soul, retains the ability to comprehend, although the testimony of the physical body says otherwise. These are most unparsimonious assumptions, which add nothing in the way of explanatory value and which require much in the way of ad hoc justificatory gymnastics to sustain. For these reasons, among others, the view of person as soul seems implausible at best. 

What then are we left with? We can return to our original conception of death of a person as the cessation of existence of that person, where “person” refers to a kind of physical entity possessing certain special abilities. Death is neither an event within the timeline of a person, nor an ongoing state into which a person may enter, but rather the boundary or terminal limit of a person’s life. “Being dead” is not a state to be predicated of an individual, rather, once an individual has died, the person is no more, and a corpse or remains, which does not possess the special abilities of persons, is all that is left in its place. Death marks a change in kind, from person to corpse, rather than a change in state or venue of the person in question.

If we give up the dualist theories of souls and bodies, and revert back to our physicalist account, what sort of rational attitudes can and should we take towards our own impending mortality? Was Epicurus right to withhold any evaluation of the prospect of death? On certain interpretations the answer is a definite yes. Death, conceived as a dreadful state that must be endured cannot possibly be something to be feared, as we have established that death is not a state that it is possible to experience at all. When death is, a person is not, to use his turn of phrase. There is of course, no reason to fear, dread, or possess any emotion whatever regarding a state that is simply impossible to experience. 

One might not fear or dread death as a state, but rather as the process of dying. Often dying is a protracted, painful, and undignified affair, burdensome to loved ones and emotionally taxing to all involved. Of course, this does not apply to all deaths. Many people die painlessly in their sleep, never the wiser. But these are exceptions. Most deaths, or ‘dyings’ to avoid confusion, do involve some degree of pain, incapacitation, and indignity, and thus it seems reasonable to, in a general sense, view the process of dying with some trepidation and dread. 

Of course fear of dying does not quite encompass what we often speak of as our fear of death. This more general anxiety seems to be something rather deeper and puzzling. The question then becomes whether the fear of dying is the only fear of death we can make rational sense of, or might we sensibly describe this more general fear and dread associated with the prospect of our own annihilation? Why does the eventuality of our own non-being often trouble us so? As we have seen, it cannot be because we fear the experience of non-being, for that is senseless, as it cannot be experienced. If death is properly thought of only as the limit or the boundary of a person’s timeline, what is there then in this picture to attach any emotional significance to? 

What is striking about this boundary point is that it starkly limits our possibilities, it is the mark of our finitude and contingency. It thwarts our future plans and makes us regret all of our unfinished business and unrealized dreams. We seek to extend our agency into nature, to mold and shape the world according to our values. We seek, in short, to have an impact upon the world—to achieve those things we find worthwhile and important. Death impending threatens to reduce all of our uncompleted endeavors to ruin and makes us regret our unfulfilled dreams. We mourn in advance for the loss of a future we’ll never see, and for the loss of possibilities and experiences we shall never realize—possibilities and experiences often involving those people and things we hold dear. It is not then the senseless conception of death as a state to be experienced or endured that we may dread and despise, but rather death as the agent of finitude, as the destroyer of unrealized dreams and unactualized possibilities. Death is the manacle that binds our will within time and sets our life’s accomplishments and failures in stone for eternity, never amenable to revision or redress in the future.  We strive to mold our lives according to our wishes and values, to make our mark upon the world as we see fit—and death, the event horizon, marks the temporal limit of our power to do so. It is from this, our own finitude, that death brings its sting, and with which we mortals must ultimately reckon.

Transgender Brains and Mad Scientists—A Question of Identity

Few topics within the contemporary culture wars have generated as much controversy, confusion, and even outright rage, than topics surrounding transgender individuals. From the proper characterization of their gender identities, to their workplace rights, to their place within sports, it seems virtually every facet of their social existence becomes fodder for debate and rife with discord. A perpetual characteristic of the debates surrounding these topics is just how confused everyone seems to be on all sides. Their foes tend to have a childishly simplistic view of sex and gender, which they wrongfully and arrogantly believe is plain fact supported by biological science, and think that anyone who thinks otherwise must be more concerned with feelings than facts. Their would-be friends often seem equally oblivious to the science behind transgender biology, instead preferring to be ecumenical to all perspectives of marginalized LGBT groups, with the result being a way of speaking surrounding these topics that is linguistically clunky, often confusing, and sometimes flatly incoherent.

Of particular importance and centrality, and drawing perhaps the most controversy, is the question of whether we should consider trans people to be the gender they say they are. Are trans women women and trans men men, and in need of medical gender affirming care, or are they hopelessly deluded and in need of some form of psychological treatment? It would do much good, I think, to get a solid handle on some of the relevant basic biological factors at play, then to bring some philosophical tools to the table, so that some light rather than the usual heat can be shed upon certain serious ethical questions involving transgender individuals.

We’ve all heard the cries from members of the anti-trans camp, to the effect of “Facts don’t care about your feelings! There are X and Y chromosomes, and only two biological sexes: XX, and XY. If you’re XX, you’re a woman. If you’re XY, you’re a man, period. It’s basic biology!” Now, the common reply from the pro-trans camp is typically something like “Biological sex is not the same thing as gender.” Now, this is true, but the latter term is confusing for reasons that will become apparent. It also requires some explanation to elucidate the relationship between the two terms and the centrality of the latter to the questions at issue. One important issue is that ‘biological sex’ is itself an ambiguous term. In employing this term, we could mean any of several distinct things that all fall under the umbrella of what one might call ‘biological sex.’ Equivocation amongst them invites confusion, and an understanding of these distinctions is important in understanding what it is to be transgender.

Firstly, there is what could be termed a person’s chromosomal sex, that is, what combination of sex chromosomes a person has. You might think that there are only two possible such arrangements, but you’d be mistaken. In fact, there are far more arrangements of sex chromosomes beyond just XX and XY that occur in humans. The variety of human karyotypes, or combinations of sex chromosomes, includes X (Turner Syndrome), XXY (Klinefelter Syndrome), XXX, XYY, XXYY, XXXY, XXXX, XXXXY, XXXXX, and others. These typically result in intersex or sexually ambiguous phenotypic characteristics.

Secondly, we might talk about reproductive sex, the sex type of the gametes—the haploid cells that combine to form the diploid zygote that becomes the embryo of a new individual in sexual reproduction, which a person produces. In this gametic sense, sex is binary, as there are precisely two types of gametes—sperm and egg. Some people have pointed to this feature of sexual reproduction as a supposed debate stopper, claiming that what makes one a man or woman is simply which type of gametes a person produces, and that’s all that need be said (Bracketing the intersex conditions that involve producing both gametes in a single body).

This, however, widely misses the mark about just what is controversial surrounding trans identity, intersex conditions, and other sex and gender related issues. No one involved in any of the debates surrounding trans issues on either side is primarily concerned with gametes or their role in the sexual reproductive process. They are rather almost exclusively concerned with people, their different sex-related phenotypic traits, and the social expectations surrounding those traits, making this concern with gametes a giant red herring that is irrelevant to most trans issues. It also elides several crucial biological facts that are themselves much more relevant to these issues.

Apropos of the preceding, and most importantly, there is phenotypic sex, or the sex-related bodily characteristics of a fully developed human being, which in almost all cases are what we use to categorize individuals sociosexually. It is important to note that phenotypic sex does not perfectly map to chromosomal sex. XX and XY genotypes usually develop into the typical phenotypes of female and male, respectively, and the atypical chromosomal variants mentioned above often develop into intersex phenotypes, but the typical XX and XY genotypes can also produce intersex phenotypes, due to either other genetic variations or embryological or environmental factors. One such set of conditions involve a person with XY genotype having a genetic insensitivity to androgenic (masculinizing) hormones, which results in the development in an outwardly female phenotype.

Phenotypic sex can itself be broken down into subcategories. There are the outward sexually dimorphic phenotypic characteristics that we typically use to distinguish between typical members of different sexes, e.g. breasts, body shape, fat deposition patterns, genitalia, facial characteristics, hair growth patterns, etc. Then, there are the sexually dimorphic brain phenotypes that lead to various differences in cognitive styles, sexual behaviors, mannerisms, sense of self-identity, etc. between typical human men and women. So we have a distinction between external phenotypic sex and phenotypic brain sex, and the resulting mental properties characteristic of each sex. We can simply refer to this as gender.

At this point, the latter term needs to be further clarified. What I do not mean by ‘gender’ here are certain ancillary things the term has also been used to represent, such as social norms, expectations, and roles associated with each sex. What I’m referring to is mental differences dependent upon sex-differentiated brains. The second sense of ‘gender’ might be in part socially constructed, but the first is simply a biological fact. Conflation of these two senses has made the debate landscape confused. It perhaps would’ve been better to use the term ‘mental sex’ for the biological sense, given the ambiguity of the term ‘gender,’ but the latter is so embedded in the lexicon that to get rid of it one would have to tear down the entire edifice and rebuild anew, and that would invite yet more confusion to an already fraught issue.

In light of the foregoing distinctions, we can understand the science of what it means for a person to be transgender. The biology of human sexual dimorphism has been extensively studied by neurologists, finding that the anatomical structures of certain brain regions differ between typical male and female brains, so that by analyzing these regions of a person’s brain, one can predict the sex of that person to a high degree of accuracy. In light of this knowledge, several studies have been performed looking at these sexually dimorphic regions of the brain in transgender individuals, finding that indeed these sexually dimorphic regions in their brains more closely match those typical of the sex associated with the gender they identify with than those typical of the chromosomal sex or outward phenotype they possess. One study examining a brain region called the bed nucleus of the stria terminalis (BSTc), found that:

“The number of neurons in the BSTc of male-to-female transsexuals was similar to that of the females (P = 0.83). In contrast, the neuron number of a female-to-male transsexual was found to be in the male range. Hormone treatment or sex hormone level variations in adulthood did not seem to have influenced BSTc neuron numbers. The present findings of somatostatin neuronal sex differences in the BSTc and its sex reversal in the transsexual brain clearly support the paradigm that in transsexuals sexual differentiation of the brain and genitals may go into opposite directions and point to a neurobiological basis of gender identity disorder.”

Now, the sample size of this study is quite small, but several such studies, including a previous 1995 study of the same brain region have produced similar findings. Another study from 2011 examining the white matter microstructure in the brains of trans men against that of cisgender men and women as controls, found that:

“the white matter microstructure pattern in untreated FtM transsexuals is closer to the pattern of subjects who share their gender identity (males) than those who share their biological sex (females). Our results provide evidence for an inherent difference in the brain structure of FtM transsexuals.”

Yet another study examining a different sexually dimorphic region of the brain, the interstitial nucleus of the anterior hypothalamus (INAH), found that:

INAH3 volume and number of neurons of male-to-female transsexual people is similar to that of control females. The female-to-male transsexual subject had an INAH3 volume and number of neurons within the male control range…

Again, these and other similar studies have small sample sizes, but the conclusions all point in a single direction to the fact that the structures of sexually dimorphic regions in the brains of transgender individuals are shifted away from what would be expected based on their outwardly presenting phenotypic sex, and towards that of the opposite sex. This gives us a working definition of what it means for someone to be transgender: a person is transgender if their mental phenotypic sex/gender does not match their external phenotypic sex. That is to say, to be transgender is to have a brain closer to those typically found in people with the opposite phenotypic sex. In such individuals, this mismatch can result in a felt sense of gender dysphoria, which can profoundly affect well-being.

With this in mind, we are far better equipped to engage with some of the ethical and social questions often raised in relation to transgender people. Are transwomen women? Are transmen men? The answers would seem to depend upon what the determinant feature of a person’s identity is. Is it the person’s outward bodily features, or the person’s brain and mind that we should look to for the answers to these questions?

A variant of a philosophical thought experiment often brought up in questions of personal identity may help us shed some light on these questions. The setup goes as follows: Imagine two men, Bob and John, are captured by an unscrupulous brain scientist who wishes to perform a trial run of a brain-swap surgical procedure he has been developing. He puts them both under anesthesia, and removes each of their brains, then replaces each of them in the opposite body, so that John’s brain now resides in (what was) Bob’s body, and vice versa. When the two are eventually resuscitated, the scientist calls out Bob’s name, and the person who appears to be John says, “Yes?” the same applies to the converse. We are then invited to consider who is rightfully John and who is rightfully Bob. Overwhelmingly, the intuition most of us have is to take Bob to be the person with Bob’s brain, who of course has Bob’s mind, his memories, his preferences and dispreferences, his unique sense of psychological continuity and self-identity, etc.

Now let us imagine our mad scientist has kidnapped a third victim, a woman named Alice. He repeats the procedure a second time, this time swapping Bob and Alice’s brains with each other. Now when they awaken, each is surprised to find that they have the body of someone from the opposite sex. If we are consistent with our previous intuition, we will say that it is now Bob who has the female body previously belonging to Alice and Alice who has the male body that was Bob’s. Upon realizing what has occurred, Bob is horrified upon seeing his feminine form, protesting “But I am a man!” The same is true for Alice of course. What are we to make in this case? Are Bob and Alice deluded as to their claimed manhood and womanhood? If we are again to be consistent with our former intuitions about self-identity, and we take one’s manhood or womanhood to be a component of said self-identity, then we must say that Bob is indeed a man and Alice indeed a woman, though the former may now be walking around with female sex characteristics and genitals, and the latter with male sex characteristics and genitals.

Given our previous analysis, this is roughly the situation in which trans people find themselves—only it was not brought about by a mad scientist with his brain swap surgery, but by some confluence of genetics, epigenetics, embryology, and environment etc. It is in this sense that trans people really are the gender they say they are—they have brains that are in important ways characteristic of the gender they claim rather than that which would be predicted by looking at either their external phenotypic sex characteristics or their sex chromosome karyotype. Just as our Bob and Alice felt a profound dysphoria by the incongruity of their external body with their own mental sense of self, so too do trans people.

It of course doesn’t follow that trans women and trans men, respectively, are women and men in every possible sense of these terms. Chromosomally, they are not. Phenotypically, they cannot attain the status of a cisgendered person of their gender, though they can come closer to it through medical intervention. They are not reproductively identical to cisgendered people of their gender, either. These other senses are also relevant to certain ethical questions surrounding trans issues, such as how trans people should be included in sport, or how certain reproductive issues particular to their unique situations should be discussed and treated. Nonetheless, in the sense that matters most for personal identity, in their brains and minds, they are similar, and that is ethically relevant to how we ought to treat them as people, and how medicine should treat them for their gender dysphoria.

If one’s brain and peripheral body are mismatched in terms of sex differentiation, and this is a cause for profound psychological distress, there are two options in order to bring them into congruence—change the body or change the brain. At least two factors tell against the latter option. The first is that we simply lack the technology and knowledge to perform such a change in brain morphology, let alone to do so without causing great and irreparable harm. The second is that, as we saw before in our brain swap case, the brain is the seat of the self, not the peripheral body. Even if we could do so, it would seem backwards to change the self to fit the body rather than the converse. It would be as if, upon hearing Bob’s protest against being embodied in Alice’s female body that he is instead Bob, a man, our mad scientist came up with a brilliant new idea. Instead of returning Bob’s brain to his old body, he would instead perform a new nanosurgical procedure on Bob’s brain with the effect that Bob would forget that he was Bob and a man, and instead feel that he is Alice, a woman, and thereby solve the problem. It seems in this case, the mad scientist hasn’t cured Bob so much as he has simply erased Bob’s identity. Similarly, to try to change a trans person’s brain to match their body, rather than the converse, would be to engage in a sort of identity erasure. This leaves the option of changing the peripheral body to more closely match the brain’s sense of gender, which is precisely what gender affirming care does through hormonal and/or surgical treatments.

Aside from such questions of personal identity, there are of course many other questions that have been raised surrounding the social status and ethical treatment of trans people. These include the proper leagues for trans people in competitive sports, whether trans women in particular should be included in spaces hitherto reserved for cisgendered women, designed to shield them from violence perpetrated by male aggressors—places such as womens’ shelters or gender segregated bathrooms and locker rooms, whether having dating preferences for cisgendered people is an unethical prejudice, among other questions. There is also a set of topics that are often lumped into trans issues by people on both sides of the political spectrum which are actually separate issues. These include various political or social ideologies surrounding various theories of gender (often involving the other sense of ‘gender’ and notions of social constructivism), questions about various proposed gender categories, concerns about people claiming to be trans who are not, issues surrounding other gender-norm nonconforming people, etc. Each of these topics deserves in-depth discussion, which is beyond the scope of this article.

What I’ve sought to do here is to clarify certain notions of sex and gender and to shed light on how the neurobiological basis for what it is to be transgender bears upon the philosophical question of the validity of transgender identity claims, and what that says about how they ought to be understood and treated with regard to that identity. In short, because our brains are the primary determinants of our identity, and because brains are sexually dimorphic, i.e. gendered, and because trans brains are shifted toward the gender they claim to be, there is a relevant and important sense in which trans people are just who they say they are.

Trump, the King of Fools

Far too much has been said already. Too much ink spilled. Too much bandwidth used. Too much oxygen burned. Too much mental energy expended. Too much opportunity cost spent. Too much time wasted of the brief lives of mortals in arguing the painfully obvious, only to have such uranium-clad reasoning fail to move the slobbering mass of imbeciles who still support him, and who are still numerous enough within the electorate to threaten the world and the republic with a second disastrous term of Donald Trump. That so many people in what appears to be a persistent vegetative state are capable of walking upright to the polls is quite an astounding fact indeed, and one that must be reckoned with.

Trump is truly sui generis in the annals of American politics. Among political figures, historical and contemporary, he is uniquely stupid, inarticulate, and unlettered. He is malignant narcissism incarnate, with no sign that he possesses anything resembling common human empathy or decency. He is comically arrogant and oblivious to his own many shortcomings, both moral and physical. He often cruelly criticizes the looks of others, while himself looking something like a pear-shaped, orange, saggy sack of flesh in an ill-fitting, gauche suit and tie, topped with a combover that continues to mystify origami aficionados the world over. He has no scruples against projection, hypocrisy, and intellectual dishonesty of all kinds. He is constitutionally incapable of emotional equanimity or anything like stoic reserve. He is a sore loser. He is a sore winner.

He is the only president in history to have been criminally indicted, facing ninety-one felony charges. The only president to have been impeached twice. He has the ignominious honor of having had the highest staff turnover in presidential history and an unprecedented number of former cabinet members, including the usually apolitical military brass, speak out against him, both during and after the national clusterfuck (a technical term) that was his presidential term. This large list of detractors includes his attorney general, secretary of state, multiple chiefs of staff, multiple secretaries of defense, multiple national security advisors, numerous aides of all sorts, and his own vice president. The man has more disgruntled ex-lawyers than Wilt Chamberlain has ex-lovers. By a long shot, he is the most civilly litigated against, trailing a list of lawsuits numbering in the thousands. Twenty-six women have credibly accused him of rape or sexual assault, and a civil jury has found him liable for the sexual assault of one woman so far, making him preeminent among politicians for sexual misconduct—no easy feat.

He is the Old Faithful of liars, with deceptions both grand and petty regularly flowing from the fount of his oddly-shapen mouth like water from an ever-welling underground spring. He is paradoxically the world’s most obvious con man and perhaps its most successful one. A friend to dictators and enemies of the free world across the globe who browbeats and berates democratic allies. A draft dodger who disparages prisoners of war and fallen soldiers as “losers and suckers.” The only president who has ever whipped up a violent mob against both Congress and his own vice president. The only president to have been charged with conspiracy to defraud the United States, and conspiracy to deny citizens the right to vote and to have their votes counted. Need we go on? That this litany could be extended quite further is itself a crucially telling fact. Trump's unfitness for office is the most overdetermined conclusion in American political history. If it were any more overdetermined, it would be a tautology.

Despite all this, and despite the bleeding wounds of a scarcely countable and ever-growing number of both criminal and civil court cases, in both federal and state courts, involving election interference, fraud, mishandling of top-secret documents, hush-money payments to porn stars, defamation of his sexual assault victim, and others, he is still walking freely towards the GOP nomination. He is the real world analogue of the comically impervious horror-film villain who, despite sustaining stabs, blows, and shots that would have killed mortal men five times over, comes back again and again to rain havoc on the hapless protagonists. Behind this horror-villain stand the zombified droves of his supporters, as impervious to reason and common sense as he has hitherto been to justice. Continual efforts have been made to reason with them, but a steady plurality of the Republican base remains firmly inoculated against the ingress of manifest reality. Perhaps Thomas Paine, writing about a very different American crisis, said it best:

“To argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead.”

Where reason cannot penetrate, perhaps ridicule is warranted. If the foregoing fractional sample of all the oh-so-evident reasons Trump is not merely unqualified for office, but supremely anti-qualified, is not enough to sway the voters in his thrall, then let them be both scorned and pitied for being fool enough to fall for Trump’s obvious lies and transparent con artistry. For it is not those of us who see him for what he is who are the targets of his deceptions. It is the most gullible of the gullible—his followers. A person could withstand being considered deplorable, and perhaps even take some twisted sense of pride in it, a sort of negative virtue signaling. Absolutely no one, however, wants to be revealed as an easy mark, a pawn, a rube, an idiot. The thing is—that’s exactly what they are.

A Brief Reflection on Ancestors and Descendants

When we reflect on the past, we are admonished not to judge our historical forebears by the moral standards of our own time. It sometimes cannot be helped, however. We recoil at those who took part in the institution of slavery, or the subjection of women, or any number of crimes against humanity, and we disdain those who stood by in craven or complacent acceptance of the practices we now rightly abhor. We imagine ourselves placed within their milieu, thinking to ourselves, “If I had been in Germany during the war, I would have resisted. I would’ve been like Oskar Schindler.” and “If I had lived in antebellum America, I would’ve been an abolitionist.” Would we have indeed?

Many of us who’ve spent time researching family history, especially those Americans of European heritage from the southern part of the country, will be familiar with the unsettling experience of browsing records of wills and finding that an ancestor had bequeathed human beings as “property” to their children. To us this is heinous. To them it was banal. Many younger Germans must have no doubt experienced similar feelings regarding relations who lived during the time of World War 2.

We may look askance at these ancestors, wishing they had instead been more of a Garrison or Schindler, standing firm against the immorality of their time, or at least wishing that they had not been active participants in it. But they were who they were—common folk who perhaps simply did what their peers did, without stopping long to reflect upon the ethics of the common institutions or practices of their time. Or, perhaps they recognized these moral wrongs, but for lack of certain personal virtues remained complicit, or remained silent.

Would we have done any better in their shoes? Would we have had the courage to stand against heinous moral wrongs when they are commonly accepted and normalized? Would we even have had the capability to recognize them as such? The truth is that these questions are poorly framed. They are not really counterfactuals after all. We should rather ask, “Are we doing any better? Do we have the penetration to recognize what is unethical within our society's common practices, and the courage to do something about it?” For history has not ended, and good has not triumphed over evil. The history of the future is being written now, and we are the ones writing it, with our own contributions, large or small.

It bears considering what future generations of humans will make of us. What sociocultural institutions and practices of today will our descendants look back upon with similar regret? When family genealogy albums are perused by our great-great-great grandchildren, and they read out what remains of the records of our doings, whose foresight and moral rectitude will have stood the test of time and ethical progress? One thing is certain—if we wish to become the good ancestor, we will have to do the intellectual work.

The Animal Holocaust

It was once said that a single death is a tragedy, but a million deaths is a statistic. How much less morally comprehensible is the statistic of hundreds of billions of deaths? How do you even make something like that real to the mind? Current best estimates have it that humans slaughter over 70 billion land animals per year, not including marine animals or male chicks slaughtered by egg-laying hen hatcheries. This number is an order of magnitude greater than the total human population of Earth. With marine animals and chicks included, the yearly kill count easily exceeds the sum total of humans who have ever lived on Earth at any time in history—over 120 billion. Year after year this continues, and year after year the number grows larger.

The vast majority of these animals lived out their short lives on factory farms, where outright abuse is common, and which are, at best, overcrowded, filthy prisons where animals are either virtually immobilized in small cages or crammed together in large warehouse-like barns. All of them end up in the same place, the slaughterhouse, where they will be killed in one of several ways. They are marched to the "kill floor," stepping through the blood of their predecessors, coaxed by yelling men with electric prods or giant swatters, where they will then either be electrocuted, or bolt gunned in the head, or simply have their throats slit without any such "stunning" in the case of kosher or halal slaughter. Some are forced into gas chambers filled with concentrated CO2, which burns the lungs and mucous membranes.

For smaller animals like birds, they're killed on an even more efficient, industrial scale, in what can only be called "death machines." They're hung by the legs, alive, on an ever moving conveyor, which first drags their heads through an electric bath meant to stun them. Many survive this step by lifting their heads or are otherwise simply ineffectively stunned. On the next step along the conveyor their necks are dragged against automated circular saws to bleed them out. Some are cut ineffectively and still alive reaching the last step. This final step is another bath, this time in boiling water, to remove their feathers. And these are the accepted, "humane" methods in which humans convert other animals into chops, cutlets, and drumsticks. The death machines will never be featured on "How it's Made" but they hum away with the regularity of any factory floor, that number constantly ticking upwards.

If, as Descartes thought, animals are mere automata, without experiential consciousness, then these statistics are only trivia, bereft of moral significance. But if, on the other hand, each of the beings killed did have experiential consciousness, its own subjective experience of life, the issue takes on such a weight of moral significance that it is scarcely comparable to anything else. What does modern science have to say about the question of animal consciousness?

In 2012, a group of cognitive scientists, neurophysiologists, psychologists, and other related specialists gathered at Cambridge University for the Francis Crick Memorial Conference on Consciousness in Human and Non-human Animals to review the bulk of contemporary research on the neurological substrates of conscious states and emotions in humans and other animals. The conference resulted in a joint declaration that became known as the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness. Among the consensus findings, the declaration included the following:

We declare the following: “The absence of a neocortex does not appear to preclude an organism from experiencing affective states. Convergent evidence indicates that non-human animals have the neuroanatomical, neurochemical, and neurophysiological substrates of conscious states along with the capacity to exhibit intentional behaviors. Consequently, the weight of evidence indicates that humans are not unique in possessing the neurological substrates that generate consciousness. Non-human animals, including all mammals and birds, and many other creatures, including octopuses, also possess these neurological substrates.

It’s worth pausing to ask what we mean here by ‘consciousness’ and what its significance is. When philosophers and cognitive scientists speak of animals being conscious in this manner, they mean experiential consciousness, subjective experience, or as Nagel put it, that there is something it’s like to be that individual animal. Consciousness no doubt takes many forms, but there is at least one feature of conscious experience of the sort that animals, including humans, possess that makes such consciousness morally salient. Valence encapsulates the notion that conscious experiences can be positive or negative for the being that experiences them. Among negatively valenced experiences would be included such states as pain, fear, hunger, unfulfillment of preferences, etc., and among positively valenced experiences would be classed states like joy, comfort, safety, fulfillment of preferences, etc.

Even without lengthy explanations, we intuitively recognize consciousness and valence as morally relevant features when we consider the difference between someone kicking a rock and someone kicking a dog. There is nothing it’s like, either good or bad, for the rock to be kicked. The rock has no experiential consciousness at all. The dog, on the other hand, experiences both pain and emotional distress from being treated in an abusive manner. So, too, do pigs, cows, chickens, some fish, and many other animals subjected to the processes and practices of animal agriculture. Each one added to the tally of the dead was an individual, a subject of a conscious life. Perhaps not one quite like ours, without the same complexities of language and abstract thought, but nonetheless one with its own set of pleasures and pains, joys and sorrows, victories and defeats. Each life had its own story, its own set of unique experiences in the world. Each one was once an individual being, reduced to a number, then a barcode on a package to be purchased for the fleeting pleasurable experience of a human.

Many might acknowledge the mass mistreatment and slaughter of non-human animals as a great tragedy, but nonetheless think there is nothing for it. It’s simply a fact of life that humans need to eat meat, eggs, and dairy, right? Well, no, it isn’t. Not only is a well-planned plant-based diet healthful, it may also reduce the risk factors for the top causes of human mortality. The position of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics states that:

appropriately planned vegetarian, including vegan, diets are healthful, nutritionally adequate, and may provide health benefits for the prevention and treatment of certain diseases. These diets are appropriate for all stages of the life cycle, including pregnancy, lactation, infancy, childhood, adolescence, older adulthood, and for athletes.

It goes on to note that:

Vegetarians and vegans are at reduced risk of certain health conditions, including ischemic heart disease, type 2 diabetes, hypertension, certain types of cancer, and obesity.

It is ultimately a false choice between the ethical treatment of non-human animals and the pursuit of human health. The real choice, at least for all of us living in the relative affluence of developed countries, is rather between the ethical treatment of non-human animals and the fleeting satisfaction of a particular taste preference. We make this fateful choice every time we go to a market and choose between the products of humanity’s unethical treatment of non-human animals and alternative products.

As of now, there is a large and ever-expanding range of such alternatives, not to mention whole food staples, with enough culinary variety to satisfy all tastes. So, it is also a false choice between taste pleasure and animal ethics. It does not require a grand sacrifice or the fortitude of a saint, merely a conscious choice to learn, to change ingrained habits, and a willingness to experiment to find new favorite foods and develop new dietary habits. Where do the ethical scales balance when the cost of the temporary, one-time inconvenience of learning new dietary and culinary habits is weighed against the suffering and death of the numerous animals that would otherwise be consumed over the future time-course of a person’s life?

Many ethical questions are difficult, if not nigh intractable, with good arguments that can be adduced for each side, and with each position often involving uncongenial tradeoffs that leave their proponents only partially satisfied in their conclusions. This, however, is not among those difficult questions. A clearer, more one-sided issue could hardly be found among the issues considered in applied ethics. Despite this, habit, culture, and status quo bias are powerful forces indeed, and so the death machines hum on.