Patrick Colm Hogan, University of Connecticut

First, I wish to thank Professor Singer for responding to my blog post, especially as his response leads me to clarify one of the key points in the post. When I spoke of a dominant emotion, I should have clarified that I am not referring to something that we automatically know through introspection. I was also not referring to anything that necessarily shows up in our public arguments for particular, ethical positions—though I didn’t really realize this until I read Professor Singer’s response. Rather, I was referring to the sorts of emotional appeal that affect us individually with particular force. We often come to know our particular, emotional susceptibilities in a process of learning things about ourselves. Moreover, when we articulate public arguments in favor of a position, we formulate a range of appeals and may not even mention the concerns that are particularly weighty for us as individuals.

The emotions to which I am referring in these cases are broadly the same motivations that drive characters in the cross-culturally recurring narratives, which so frequently play a central role in our (empathic) ethical judgments. More exactly, my claim in Literature and Moral Feeling was that people’s moral views tend to cluster together in ways that fit the moral outlook that dominates one of the cross-cultural narrative prototypes—heroic, romantic, sacrificial, and so on. Moreover, each of these story structures has a limited set of emotions or motivations that drive the protagonists. My claim about the emotions of people faced with moral decisions is that they are likely to be particularly sensitive to the empathic appeal of the emotion that drives their (ethically) favored genre. For instance, I mentioned hunger in the blog because it is a prominent motivation in sacrificial narratives.

To return to my own case, it is relatively easy for people who know me to figure out that I am more strongly motivated by separation anxiety triggered by attachment loss (found in both romantic and familial separation and reunion genres) than by other emotions. I did not realize this myself until I came to formulate my views about descriptive ethics a few years ago. Moreover, when I defend an ethical position, I am likely to list a number of reasons, for which I feel a range of emotional responses, as I am appealing to unknown readers who probably are not so fixated on attachment themes as I am. So, my point about Professor Singer was simply that, if he has some particular emotional sensitivity—as I conjecture is commonly the case—I am not certain as to what it might be. I don’t know him personally and, for reasons already mentioned, any disposition he might have in this regard is unlikely to manifest itself very strongly in his publications. Indeed, on the surface, Professor Singer seems to proceed by reason alone, developing the defense of his position by appeal to logic and evidence within the context of a utilitarian calculus. It is certainly possible that there is nothing more to his motivation than such reasoned calculation—and presumably generalized empathy. Not everyone has to be driven by a dominant emotion. And yet, given his passionate engagement with the issues he addresses—especially in his justly renowned work on animal rights—I cannot help but feel that his commitments are not solely the products of cool, utilitarian calculus, even if this is enhanced by effortful, egalitarian empathy. (I hope it is clear that this is in no way a criticism—quite the contrary, to my way of thinking,)