Stewardship Part 2

So the concept stewardship is usually invoked in a context where something valuable is being shared over time. In ethical terms that suggests that sharing over time is good; that is to say, it's a virtue, a duty, or a preferable consequence.

If stewardship is a virtue it signifies excellence in character. For Aristotle, it would relate to distributive justice. Hence, a "good person" takes no more nor less than he/she deserves. Now Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics really doesn't get into intergenerational justice, but we know from his other writings that potential beings would have moral standing. We also know that if stewardship is a virtue, it would involve teaching, learning, and the establishment of a habit. But beyond that I'm not sure Aristotle takes us very far. The Judeo-Christian concept of the virtue of stewardship is based on the idea that God gave the universe to humans to share. There is a built in sense of value associated with any "gift" that comes from an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and "Good" being. God, by definition, does not give lousy gifts! No ugly ties or exploding cigars! Moreover, since God created Homo sapiens as an intergenerational community, he certainly would not favor early generations over subsequent ones. Nature is not a Ponzi scheme! Hence, previous generations took their fair share, we take, our fair share, and future generations take their fair share. The problem here is how do we know how much each generation can consume without shortchanging the next generation? The history of humans on earth suggests that virtue-based concepts of stewardship have led to intergenerational exploitation rather than intergenerational justice.

If stewardship is a duty, then we must think about it in a different way. First of all, we'd have to establish that all generations have an equal right to that good thing that is being shared between generations. So if we establish that each generation has an equal right to the fish in ocean then, each generation has a duty to determine it's fair share of fish and preserve the rest for the next generation. But there's a lot more here than meets the eye. Suppose subsequent generations will have more living persons than our generation? Do we have a duty to take into account the fact that the next generation will "need" more than we do? And, of course how far into the future does this obligation extend? Moreover, the human ability to exploit the earth's bounty changes relative to technology. We can catch more fish, cut down more trees, extract more oil and coal than previous generations. Hence, the potential for intergenerational injustice is magnified over time. All I want to say here is that even if we all agree that we have a duty to hold back a few fish for future generations we really don't know what this duty entails. In short, it's a lot easier to assign rights and duties across generations than it is to fulfill them.

Finally, if stewardship is conceived as the means to a preferable set of consequences or outcomes across generations, we must be able to assess cost/benefit ratios across generations. Thus stewardship might imply aiming at the "greatest happiness for the greatest numbers" across generations. If this is our goal, then it's not at all clear how much we ought to hold back, given that we really don't know how many generations will follow us. I would argue that if stewardship requires utilitarian calculus exercised across generations, each generation's rate of consumption would be minicule if not zero. Of course, that would solve the obesity problem, but that's another topic worth exploring.

So what does all of this say about stewardship as a moral concept? First of all, there's a lot of muddled thinking about "sustainability." If we have a moral obligation to consume at a "sustainable" rate we have to decide how far into the future that obligation extends. If we limit our obligation to the next generation we might be able to calculate a sustainable rate of consumption. On the other hand, if todays politicians seek to be responsible stewards of the earth's bounty and neglect the needs (and wants) of our present generation in order to save a few fish for future generations, those politicians won't be in office very long. Future generations aren't old enough to vote!                 
                 

Our Intergenerational Credit Card

The current debate in Congress over raising the debt ceiling plays into one of thorniest issues in all of moral philosophy: the problem of future generations. Although it lurks most often in the context of environmental issues (usually pollution and resource depletion) it is readily applicable to the debt crisis.

Imagine the following scenario: Congress is issued an intergenerational credit card, and thereby can access a never-endling line of credit. Now, if you are a Congressman who would like to get re-elected, how would you use that credit card? There are multiple possibilities. First of all, whose interest would you serve? A.) Present generation that can either benefit or be harmed by your spending habits, or B.) Future generations. Would you pay off the balance on that credit card every month, or would you just pay the minimum balance and accumulate debt and pass the deby onto those vulnerable future generations? Of course, the The beauty of the intergenerational credit card is that future generations do not yet exist, and therefore it's relatively easy to pass the credit card balance onto them. And of course, since future generations cannot vote, there is no reason to fear them as a voting block. There is no lobbying group to represent them. Thus, all of the political rhetoric tends to focus on what would happen to the present generation if Congress decides to either default on that credit card or begin to pay down the debt without buying more stuff to benefit the present generation. Of course, Congress might decide to "invest in the future" by asking the present generation to pay for projects that might benefit future generations at the expense of the present generation. For example, we could embark on a long-term railroad building project that would take 20 years to complete. Unfortunately, our efforts to benefit the future might be thwarted by some new transportation technology (personal aircraft?) that would decrease the value of that investment. Now as long the present generation pays the cost of providing this benefit to future generations, we're at least acting responsibly. However, if we decide to benefit the future generations and pass on the cost of providing that benefit to future generations we're on shaky moral ground. Why? Who is really benefitting from these intergenerational projects? The workers in the present generation that land those jobs. If those costs can be paid for with that intergenerational credit card,  then Congress can get re-elected by the present generation and future generations can pay their salaries. If that's not a Ponzi Scheme, I don't what what to call it. But clearly, the idea of an intergenerational credit card is a prescription for taking unfair advantage of future generations.                     

The Problem of Future Generations: Part I

Any attempt to establish a cooperative, inter-generational morality will have to contend with the vexing puzzle known as the "Problem of Future Generations." Although this is vexing for all moral perspectives, it is especially vexing for social contract theories. Let's take a quick look at social contract theory. There are several competing formulations of social contract theory; all of which are all descended from the original eighteenth-century contractarian philosophers: Jean-Jacques Rousseau, John Locke, and Immanuel Kant. The eighteenth century social contract theorists were mostly concerned with the formation of national governments, however, social contract theory, if valid, ought to be equally applicable to the formation of non-governmental groups, especially businesses, military organizations, gangs, families, and sports teams. The two basic questions that face all social contract theories are: "Why join a community?" and "Why stay?" The answers to these questions are usually based on two competing theories (narratives) of human nature: communitarianism and individualism.

Communitarians since Aristotle have argued that human beings live in cooperative groups by nature. The underlying idea behind all social contract theories is that "society" is the product of deliberate cooperation. The rub here is what do we mean my "deliberate?" Back in the eighteenth century Rousseau, a communitarian, argued that human beings living "naturally" in groups develop a "general will" or, what we'd call a "mental mechanism" that predisposes us to act based on the interests of the group, even in opposition to their own self-interest. For now, let's call it altruism.  In other words, human beings living in a "state of nature" deliberately sacrifice their own self-interest for the group. Implicit in this approach is that individual contractors actually "know" specifically what those group interests entail. Here it is important to note that the social contract theorists are are profound philosophers and that their theories are enormously complex. One such complication is how to integrate social organization based on leadership and followership into their theory. In a short blog, I can't get into that right now. But I'll try to cover it later. Sorry. My friend Peter Corning, an excellent contemporary social contract theorist has written a book called The Fair Society that addresses many of the puzzles that confront communitarian social contract theory. I'll examine some of his arguments in a forthcoming entry for the APLS Blog.
  
Locke, an individualist, argued that the "state of nature" for humans is individual, and that human beings forge groups based on self-interest. Thus, communities that violate the interests of individual members tend to lose members. Why? Because there is no "general will" apart from the wills of the individuals that comprise those groups.  Hence, all "wills" are individual and all rights are individual rights. In other words, human beings "cooperate" with others and form "groups" because they deliberately and rationally conclude that at least sometimes, we are "better off" cooperating with some groups rather than others. Therefore, in the absence of a "general will" many communities simply employ coercive force to hold their community together.

Evolutionary ethicists observe that we are most likely to form groups based on "kin-altruism;" that is to say, we are genetically predisposed to cooperate with other human beings that are genetically related to us. Knowledge of genetic relatedness is less certain for males than females, therefore, males must often rely on other sensory cues, most obviously: "Does this other person(s) look enough like me to be my son, daughter, brother, sister, aunt, uncle etc? During the Pleistocene era hunters and gathers lived in small, genetically related kin groups that formed cooperative in-groups. The "general will" for kin-altruism is genetic. So how can the social contract extend beyond kin groups? Cooperative groups comprised of strangers require trust. When Pleistocene in-groups encountered neighboring out-groups that looked very different (call them strangers) they were more inclined to compete (kill them) than cooperate. Thus evolutionarily, one of the main problems for social contract theory is how to explain how strangers can ever become included within any contracting group. There are many possible explanations. One way is to follow Rousseau and postulate a complex "mental mechanism" or brain function that corresponds to a "general will."

Individualists argue that if there is a such thing as a "general will,' it would be revealed in democratic political processes. However, consensus in large groups of strangers is rarely achieved. If there is such a thing as a general will, it is more likely to emerge out of small homogenous groups than heterogenous groups comprised of multiple racial, religious, ethnic groups, or even age groups. Thus modern democratic nation states like the United States have a problem reconciling conflicting "general wills." Therefore, any large-group communitarian social contract theory will have to explain how to develop a national (or global) "general will" that trumps conflicting wills of constitutive small groups, or individuals. Peter covers this as well as any social contract theorist.

Now, back to the problem of future generations...Here's the basic problem. If there is a such thing as a "general will," how can it extend beyond the present generation? After all, future generations are, what I'd call, the ultimate strangers. They don't even exist yet! Does the present generation of contractors have duties toward  future generations of humans? Or, in other words, do future generations have rights? If so, what are those rights? We'll cover that in Part II.