Do there exist principles so fundamental that their defence becomes an automatic priority, irrespective of the cost in terms of other, more practical factors? Both in competitive debating and in real life discussions, attitudes to this question are frequently the central point of contention. Essentially, depending on the principle at stake, one can adopt one of two competing attitudes: fundamentalism and relativism.
To put the question more concretely, consider an issue that came up in a debate amongst the Finnish presidential candidates hosted recently by YLE. The question was whether asylum seekers should automatically be granted refugee status if they are persecuted or threatened based on their sexual identity in their country of origin. The fundamentalist position here was most clearly expressed by Eva Biaudet: Finland is bound by international treaties to accept asylum seekers in all cases where people would be threatened if turned back. Furthermore, the burden of proof is on the authorities, if they want to reject an application. We accept that a right to live in peace and express one’s sexual identity is a fundamental human right, whereas the case for a more niggling attitude to asylum applications is mainly based on considerations of resources.
In fact this stance was not directly challenged by the other candidates, but I claim that some of their more fudged answers were actually signalling a more relativist position. It would seem indelicate in many discussions to point out that we are not prepared to spend an absolutely unlimited amount of resources on a single cause, however morally engaging. Politicians especially risk potentially career-damaging moral outrage by being too direct in challenging the automatic precedence of high-minded principles. Thus the relativist message is often stated in a rather roundabout way and clear argumentation is replaced by evasive tactics, for example casting general doubt on the veracity of claims in applications in the refugee debate.
People tend not to say out loud that in some cases relatively large amounts of money take priority over more high-minded principles of human dignity. Fundamentalist positions make for powerful rhetoric since they convey the very appealing idea that we can avoid intellectually taxing cost-benefit analysis and also the emotionally taxing detailed examination of our values that entails. Taking a fundamentalist position is cathartic. However, I would argue that this emotional short cut always comes at the expense of clear thinking.
A typical fundamentalist bit of rhetoric is the claim that you can’t put a price on human life. Put more transparently, such statements send the message that emotional gut instinct weighs so highly that subjecting the topic under discussion to cool analysis is not only unnecessary, but morally repugnant. Positions such as “It is wrong that drug companies make profits out of human suffering” are seriously argued even by people who, on the other hand, believe that a free market is the best system we know of for efficient allocation of resources. Most people will find the juxtaposed image of sick and suffering people and rich investors unpleasant. However, a purely emotional starting point leads to terrible decisions, if we decide to make the way drugs are researched and distributed less efficient.
Does fundamentalist argumentation have any valid role in my opinion, then? I would argue that in discussions involving the use of public resources, it may serve as a useful tactic, but is an unworthy basis for argumentation. If it was true that one can’t put a price on human life, 100% of public spending would be directed at healthcare or foreign aid.
In competitive debating, beginners frequently find themselves in trouble when faced with arguments based on seemingly immutable moral principles. Here is a bit of advice: much fewer of our so-called fundamental principles are really beyond being challenged than it seems at first blush. If you have to defend a position that feels difficult on moral grounds, your main goal should be to pry apart the moral principle involved. Unlike politicians, you have the luxury of being direct about the fact that you are challenging a principle on which the other side is basing their argument. If you want to argue that X is too expensive in practice, start by saying clearly “We on the opposition do not accept that X is a fundamental right”. Of course, this is just a rhetorical tip, and you still have to come up with good arguments to back that statement up. But, if you do not challenge the principle explicitly, any argument over the cost of X has already been trumped by an unchallenged assertion that “You can’t put a price on X”.
Finally, I do believe that moral absolutes play a positive role in life. I think most of us would not hesitate to give up all of our material possessions to save a loved one from immediate death. This is the sense in which I’ll agree you can’t put a price on human life. It makes perfect sense as a maxim for individual action. When used to back up arguments about social issues and public policy, it really becomes an analogy with the individual scenario. Public discourse doesn’t tend to reward direct and bold challenges to emotional rhetoric. Even if the argumentation is sound, politicians don’t want to risk looking heartless by saying that sometimes money is just as important as fundamental human rights.
Luckily we can get the satisfaction of pulling apart logically weak arguments every week at our debating societies. And if we do occasionally convince the judges that we should leave polio-crippled orphans to fend for themselves, we don’t even have to feel bad about it, if the other side bungled their case.
-Robert Service
