As an ethicist who routinely rejects trolley problems, I feel I must respond to this.
The trolley problem was first formulated by Philippa Foot as a parody of the ridiculous ethical thought experiments developed by philosophers of the time. Its purpose was to cause the reader to observe that the thought experiment is a contrived scenario that will never occur (apparently, it serves that purpose in most untrained folks), and thus serves as an indictment of how divorced reasoning about ethics in philosophy had become from the real world of ethical decision-making.
When I hear a trolley problem, I immediately try to start filling in details. Who are the five people, and who is the one? Why are they on the trolley tracks? Why am I the only person who can do something about it? Are there really no other alternatives, and if so, how is this known to me?
And if the best “least convenient possible world” ends up being one which doesn’t even remotely resemble reality, then I don’t mind if my moral compass outputs an undefined value in those spaces; my morality is built for the real world.
But trolley-style problems have real application, e.g. for politicians. Someone with actual political power will frequently have lose-lose problems that aren’t hypothetical, and know that they will be blamed whatever they do or don’t.
If you’re just genuinely curious where people who go, push come to shove, then all the creative solutions are obviously worthless data. If you’re trying to get people to think about the real world, and firm up their own understanding, shouldn’t we be berating the people who would blithely kill one person to save five, without thinking about a creative approach?
I’d say one is occasionally, rarely, in a situation where immediate action is truly required, and the trolley problem is good for developing a “moral reflex” there—just as marital arts give one a physical reflex for a fight that gives no time for thought.
However, the more common situation is the one where a creative approach, a third option, is exactly what we want. By discouraging such responses, I’d think this reinforces the rule “don’t try creative solutions” and “you have no power except this little bit”—it encourages an attitude of mindless acceptance of the situation as presented, and insists that everything should be a dry moral arithmetic.
I’d feel most comfortable around someone whose answer is “I’d try to find a creative solution but, given push comes to shove, I’d kill one to save five”.
The trolley problem was first formulated by Philippa Foot as a parody of the ridiculous ethical thought experiments developed by philosophers of the time. Its purpose was to cause the reader to observe that the thought experiment is a contrived scenario that will never occur (apparently, it serves that purpose in most untrained folks), and thus serves as an indictment of how divorced reasoning about ethics in philosophy had become from the real world of ethical decision-making.
I’ve never heard this before, and nothing I’ve read on the history or uses of the problem as a tool of psychological study suggest that this is the case. Where did you hear this?
I’m not sure. It’s more or less the received wisdom in virtue ethics, for which in the 20th century Foot was a foundational figure. I’ll see if I can find a reference, though I’m sure I got that impression from the original text.
As an ethicist who routinely rejects trolley problems, I feel I must respond to this.
The trolley problem was first formulated by Philippa Foot as a parody of the ridiculous ethical thought experiments developed by philosophers of the time. Its purpose was to cause the reader to observe that the thought experiment is a contrived scenario that will never occur (apparently, it serves that purpose in most untrained folks), and thus serves as an indictment of how divorced reasoning about ethics in philosophy had become from the real world of ethical decision-making.
When I hear a trolley problem, I immediately try to start filling in details. Who are the five people, and who is the one? Why are they on the trolley tracks? Why am I the only person who can do something about it? Are there really no other alternatives, and if so, how is this known to me?
And if the best “least convenient possible world” ends up being one which doesn’t even remotely resemble reality, then I don’t mind if my moral compass outputs an undefined value in those spaces; my morality is built for the real world.
But trolley-style problems have real application, e.g. for politicians. Someone with actual political power will frequently have lose-lose problems that aren’t hypothetical, and know that they will be blamed whatever they do or don’t.
If you’re just genuinely curious where people who go, push come to shove, then all the creative solutions are obviously worthless data. If you’re trying to get people to think about the real world, and firm up their own understanding, shouldn’t we be berating the people who would blithely kill one person to save five, without thinking about a creative approach?
I’d say one is occasionally, rarely, in a situation where immediate action is truly required, and the trolley problem is good for developing a “moral reflex” there—just as marital arts give one a physical reflex for a fight that gives no time for thought.
However, the more common situation is the one where a creative approach, a third option, is exactly what we want. By discouraging such responses, I’d think this reinforces the rule “don’t try creative solutions” and “you have no power except this little bit”—it encourages an attitude of mindless acceptance of the situation as presented, and insists that everything should be a dry moral arithmetic.
I’d feel most comfortable around someone whose answer is “I’d try to find a creative solution but, given push comes to shove, I’d kill one to save five”.
I’ve never heard this before, and nothing I’ve read on the history or uses of the problem as a tool of psychological study suggest that this is the case. Where did you hear this?
I’m not sure. It’s more or less the received wisdom in virtue ethics, for which in the 20th century Foot was a foundational figure. I’ll see if I can find a reference, though I’m sure I got that impression from the original text.
I believe this is the original and she seems to be using these thought experiments unironically, though I haven’t read closely.