How to talk about Sex[ual Ethics]
it's difficult to argue about sexual ethics, but worth doing anyways
For a long time I’ve wanted to write something about why I believe it’s unethical to use contraception. As it turns out, this is not a simple task! So before attempting it, I’d like to 1) explain why it’s difficult to think and argue about sexual ethics, 2) argue that it’s worth doing anyways, and 3) propose some methods for going about it.
1) It’s difficult to argue about contraception/sexual ethics
It’s hard to convince people that it’s worth thinking about the ethics of contraception. Most people think that contraception is straightforwardly ethically acceptable, and that in many cases its use is ethically necessary. The claim that contraception is objectionable strikes them as bizarre and superstitious or, at best, as an interesting expression of a particular cultural/religious tradition. A person who finds it beautiful that the Amish reject many modern conveniences may also be intrigued by a contraception-free lifestyle. But a claim like mine—that contraception is unethical for everybody—will still probably seem pretty outlandish to such a person.
And it gets worse. Given the countercultural nature of my claim, I should have something like a proof that contraception is wrong. But I don’t!
In fact, I don’t think there are any proofs about sexual ethics, at least, not in the sense of air-tight arguments which will convince any person who is committed to logical consistency, regardless of their other beliefs. This is a problem for ethics in general: there are many true ethical claims which can’t be proved. I don’t even think it’s possible to prove the very basic and obvious fact that non-consensual sex is wrong. What proof would Genghis Khan, for example, find convincing? The problem isn’t that consent is unimportant. (It is important.) Nor is it that Genghis Khan wasn’t logical enough. (For all I know, he was very logical.) Instead, the problem is that he had bad first principles. (At least, my hypothetical “violent warlord” version of Genghis Khan did.) If one of your ethical principles is that it’s good to conquer territory and beget children, and you don’t have other ethical principles like the golden rule to restrain you, a “rape and pillage” approach may be logically consistent.
2) It’s important to argue about sexual ethics anyways
If there aren’t universally convincing logical proofs about sexual ethics, is logic any use at all? I think it is, though it’s more useful at showing us what not to believe than at showing us what to believe. Most of us believe that our own values are internally consistent; indeed, most of us actively value internal consistency. If it turned out that our values weren’t internally consistent, we’d want to know so that we could fix the situation. Logic can be a useful way to test our own values, and to allow other people to test them for our benefit. In other words, logic can’t show us that our sexual ethics are right, but it can show us that they’re wrong, or, at least, that they’re inconsistent with our other values.
We have a serious obligation to try to get sexual ethics right: when we get sexual ethics wrong, it’s a big problem. To give an obvious example, if we think rape is okay, we are likely to commit serious injustices. Unfortunately, “getting sexual ethics right” may not be as easy as it looks. If you pick a few cultures at random throughout the world and throughout history, how many of them have an approach to sexual ethics which seems completely right? Perhaps we are the only time/place that has the correct approach. But this doesn’t seem particularly likely. Why should we suppose that we’re better equipped than people from other cultures to critique and improve our values? Presumably every human in history is in the same situation: even if we’re critical of our culture, we’re also a product of that culture, and have been formed by it—for better and for ill—in ways that we don’t realize. Indeed, there have been plenty of people throughout history who have rightly criticized some aspect of their society but who’ve been shaped in bad ways by other aspects. (It’s not as though being against slavery guarantees that you won’t be a misogynist.)
This is very disturbing: it’s both critically important to get sexual ethics right, and also impossible to know whether or not we are getting it right. Where do we go from here?
3) Methods for “less bad” sexual ethics
If we want to test and improve our sexual ethics, there are two ways of going about it. Neither guarantee complete success, but they are both likely to lead to improvement.
The first method is to use logic to critique a given system of sexual ethics. By thinking, discussing, and reading we can look for ways in which our own system of thought might be internally inconsistent. We can also use reason to better understand the implications of our values. And if we find these implications disturbing, we may look for other systems of values.
The second method also involves thinking, though it’s less focused on formal logic. Basically, it involves paying attention. We should pay attention to what happens in our lives, to what we notice, how we react to things, and how things work out (or don’t) for ourselves and other people. We can also pay attention to the values and experiences that other people have. Through listening, discussion, and reading we can learn more about why other people find a particular approach compelling. We should use our imagination to try to think of what it would be like to live in other ways. If it seems to us that another approach is more compelling than our own approach—for instance, if the other approach seems to square better with reality—then we should consider adopting it. But before doing that, we should apply the first method to it, to ensure that it’s not internally insconsistant.
Arguing about contraception
It’s common for people to write off anti-contraception arguments as “bad proofs” when the argument isn’t trying to be a proof. A lot of anti-contraception writing is also somewhat inaccessible, either because it’s written in a technical philosophical style, or because it’s written with the expectation that its average reader will be a practicing Catholic who is trying to follow the teachings of the Church and who is well-versed in Catholic terminology. So it’s difficult to argue about contraception.
I hope to write something that’s somewhat more accessible, by employing both of the methods I described. On the one hand, I’ll try to tease out some of the implications of the pro-contraception position. This isn’t a proof that the pro-contraception position is wrong; however, there are some disturbing implications that arise when you’re open to using contraception, and people who are open to contraception should confront these implications. And on the other hand, I’ll offer some reasons why I find the anti-contraception approach compelling, why I think it squares better with reality than a pro-contraception approach.
Of course, someone who thinks that opposing contraception is totally daft shouldn’t waste their time reading this. (We should all try to avoid wasting our time on useless nonsense.) So, in a sense, my discussion of contraception won’t be for everybody. It will just be for those who are curious about the anti-contraception position. This may include people who are trying to better understand their friends, people trying to better understand their enemies, and people who are trying to refine their own thinking about sexual ethics.
This is the first in a series of articles about the ethics of contraception. Stay tuned for more!