1. Utilitarianism

Most forms of utilitarianism consist both of a theory of the good and a theory of the right. The theory of the good tells us what states of affairs are intrinsically valuable or desirable, while the theory of the right tells us what actions are right or wrong, morally obligatory or morally forbidden. The standard utilitarian account of the good is that happiness, or more broadly, well-being, is intrinsically good, and unhappiness is intrinsically bad. The early utilitarians Jeremy Bentham and, to a certain extent, John Stuart Mill, equated happiness with pleasure and unhappiness with pain. More recent utilitarians give a broader account of well-being, some including desire satisfaction as an essential component, but most agree that pain and other forms of suffering are intrinsically bad. All suffering is bad, not just my suffering, or that of my family, or nation, or race, or species. The standard utilitarian account of the right is that the right action is that action, of all possible alternatives, that results in the greatest balance of good over bad. If more than one action results in the same balance of good over bad, and no actions result in a greater balance, all such actions are right, although none is obligatory. Any action that is not right is wrong. This approach to the rightness and wrongness of actions can also be applied to moral evaluations of character, rules, social practices and institutions, and so on. So, for example, a system of government will be judged morally acceptable or unacceptable by a utilitarian depending on whether there are any viable alternative systems that would result in a greater net balance of happiness.

So what does utilitarianism say about the ethical status of animals? Consider an animal abuser who tortures dogs and cats out of malevolent curiosity. Our common moral sensibilities are appalled by such behavior. Utilitarianism provides a clear explanation of what is wrong with the abuser's behavior. The dogs and cats are made to suffer for no sufficient reason. In this respect, the utilitarian answer accords with ordinary intuitions. But the utilitarian approach also calls into question much commonly accepted animal agriculture and experimentation. The short lives of many millions of chickens, pigs, cows, and calves, raised for human consumption, are filled with suffering. Many experimental subjects, such as rats, mice, rabbits, and monkeys, are also made to suffer in the process of medical, psychological, and product research. Perhaps we could deny the moral significance of this treatment of animals by denying that they feel pain. It is often claimed that this was Descartes' position, though the truth, as I will explain shortly, is more complicated. Whatever Descartes and his contemporaries may have thought, however, it is hard to find anyone today who seriously claims that animals don't feel pain. The evidence that they do, both physiological and behavioristic, is simply overwhelming. It seems, then, that in order to justify the widespread infliction of animal suffering, a utilitarian will have to argue for a pretty hefty outweighing benefit. What are the prospects for such an argument to succeed?