Homophobic abuse, football chants, humour, liberty and tolerance.

On a moral level, verbal abuse is verbal abuse, whether it is racist or anti-gay, and it is by definition liable to hurt or cause offence. Blaming someone for taking offence is ridiculous. After all, what is the difference from blaming someone for being upset if they get bullied? It is not the same thing as blaming someone for being raped, which is arguably a much more serious issue, but it is still a regrettably common defence of abusive language to say that it is just 'banter' and to suggest that we should tolerate it. I can remember from primary school years the nasty comments directed at some of my peers, and it is interesting that sometimes these jeers were followed by the chant: "You can't take it - You can't take it!" ...As if the victim was further at fault for being upset by the bullying.

I was driven to write this after reading this article about abuse directed at fans of Brighton & Hove Albion FC by Leicester City supporters, (of the same sort given by Leeds United fans recently, and which has also been directed towards Blackpool FC fans, so not an isolated occurrence). There are some fairly ignorant comments below the article, but also some positive ones; I think the most interesting comment is from someone called Lee, who questions where we draw the line. He then mentions regionalism, which I think this is absolutely relevant. The only consistent moral line to take is that all abusive comments are wrong.

Homophobia is arguably a bigger issue than regionalism right now, (even in football, as Amal Fashanu's documentary has highlighted, which is deeply, if not inherently tribal)... but regionalism can have harmful consequences nonetheless. Perhaps one day society will evolve to the point where anti-Scouse prejudices, to take one notable example, are more universally frowned upon, if not prohibited. If you think that is overly optimistic, I would have to agree... but if you think that such a world is not desirable- that is a view I want to contest. For instance, I imagine critics trying to argue that offensive language is somehow a right, or that it would be impossible for them to find anything funny if it doesn’t involve nastiness. To those who feel that this so-called ‘banter’ is acceptable, I would ask: why? What about it is at all good? Surely you don’t think it is somehow an important civil right to be horrible to others? Oh! They say, the world would be drab without being able to 'take the piss'. But what is so bland about peace, love and understanding? [Apologies to Elvis Costello!]
A distinction might also be drawn between gentle mockery and more obviously cruel comments. Matt Lucas, an openly gay comedian, suggested in the documentary mentioned above that one chant directed at Brighton fans: "we can see you holding hands" was acceptable, whereas a chant directed at Sol Campbell (which I will not quote) was unacceptable. There were other chants directed at Brighton fans that go somewhat further than reference to holding hands, but there is no doubt that the words directed at Campbell were nonetheless many times nastier. To me, the main thing that made the latter chant worse was not simply a 'degree' of nastiness, but the fact that it made reference to him dying a gruesome death. Matt Lucas' main defence of the former chant was that it was 'witty'. But, I would argue, his real point was, or should have been, that it was not as unfriendly. After all, the Sol Campbell chant involved wit and skill, but was absolutely vile. The difficulty that then arises is deciding how cruel the intention is.
The documentary also highlights another way this same distinction that may be drawn. In the case of Anton Hysen, his teammates seemed (largely) comfortable with his homosexuality, but felt more able to make jokes about it, now that he was 'out'. The clear implication was that these jokes were ok, because they were done in a friendly spirit. Some footballers at Millwall FC suggested that making certain jokes might be a way of actually showing camaraderie, and of indicating acceptance. Clearly, the context has a huge impact on whether any harm is caused. Amongst friends, I often hear jokes that play on prejudices of all sorts, and which may be told purely for their wit. For example, although the majority of my friends are straight white males like myself, they might share a joke they have heard about black people or blonde females or even about paedophiles or some such thing. These are sometimes funny, I admit, either because they are deliberately risqué, or perhaps intended ironically (though sometimes I wonder), or simply well-crafted with skill and wit. However, I would be uncomfortable repeating them outside the company of friends that I trust not to take this amusement further. Whilst I trust my friends would never use such 'humour' to actually directly oppress the 'victims' of such jokes, does tolerating this kind of joke necessarily imply that one condones actual discrimination towards them? I don't believe so. There is a possible question of hypocrisy here: I would not allow such jokes in my classroom, but I tolerate them in privacy with my friends. For me, the difference is that I presume my friends are educated and refined enough to know how damaging these jokes might be in a different context, and it is part of my remit as an educator to challenge the presuppositions of social attitudes. When it comes to this kind of humour, I am a fan of 'anti-jokes' (some good, but many bad examples here) that deconstruct or invert these presuppositions.

Now, when it comes to the issue of public comedy, satire and mockery, how far do we go? I think there is a relevant moral difference in [a] mocking someone for something they have no control over (e.g. their skin colour, or their sexuality) from [b] mocking them for something they have done (for example, I think that chants critical of John Terry’s private life are fair game, given the allegations of adultery.) Clearly, I think, it would be going too far to ban someone from shouting at a team that they are rubbish at football (to paraphrase one well-known chant), or to direct this at an individual- even if they find this opinion hurtful. Findley's recent miss for Forest against Leicester in the FA Cup, for example, was pretty funny. What about chants such as, ‘You fat bastard!’? I would argue this too comes into the second category... just. However, there might be an argument that although one's physical fitness is largely controllable, in fact one's size is at least partially genetic.

Also, I would argue, it is important that our culture tolerates mockery of religion and political views. I have been a strong supporter of Rowan Atkinson's campaign to defend freedom of speech against certain movements to limit criticism of religion. And although I wouldn't advise it, given the intolerance of certain elements of the Islamic world, I think that I should have a right to draw a cartoon of Muhammad if I want. Satire is an important tool in exposing irrational and hypocritical beliefs and behaviour. After all, if you hold such views, I believe you should be able to justify them.

Now, as for the philosophical dimension to this issue, the only possible justification for allowing such abuse would be some naïve version of Benthamite Utilitarianism. If a whole crowd of fans are enjoying the chants, then so what if a few people are offended? A simplistic quantitative application of the 'greatest happiness principle' might be used to argue that the minority must suffer the barbarism of the majority because otherwise the overall 'amount' of happiness would be reduced. The same sort of logic could be used to 'justify' gang rape.

However, this brute form of utilitarianism is not one that a philosopher would dream of defending. Back in the 19th Century, John Stuart Mill realised that Bentham's formula needed some qualification. He developed the philosophy by arguing that certain pleasures were 'more desirable than others', which paves the way to argue that some forms of suffering are more undesirable than others. In this case, the base excitement caused by bullying is of a lower kind than more noble or intellectual pleasures, and thus cannot justify causing more serious forms of harm.

In addition to the principle of utility (the 'greatest happiness principle'), Mill added the principle of liberty: "Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign". He argued against state intervention, and thus might be used in arguments against legal sanctions for those abusive fans.

“Mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest”. (On Liberty)

Mill was also a staunch defender of 'free speech', it must be noted: “If all mankind minus one were of one opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person than he, if he had the power, would be justified in silencing mankind".

However, to quote Mill in this way- to justify the behaviour of an abusive majority- is arguably unfair. He limited the 'liberty principle' with the 'harm principle'. Whilst Mill thinks we have the right to do what we want with our own lives, this right does not allow us to do the same with others. We must not allow one person's liberty to infringe another's. The crucial issue here is how to define 'harm'. If it is restricted only to physical harm, then there is little we can do as a society to prevent bullying: the large part of which is not physical. So much the worse for society.

However, at the other end of the scale, we must allow a person to criticise another, even if they become upset. For example, an art critic might greatly hurt the feelings of the artist he/she is reviewing; an employer should be able to discipline an employee; and society must be able to punish criminals (to what degree is a matter for another essay). How we define 'offence' is a crucial matter for politics today. We can consider, for example, whether to allow public displays of homosexuality (such as a gay kiss on Eastenders), despite a fair proportion of society finding this to their distaste. Richard Dawkins has joked that he is offended by chewing gum and backwards baseball caps! To some extent, it might be argued these cases are affected by the context, and to what extent someone has been subjected to the 'offensive' situation rather than 'choosing to take offence'. Comments made in private may not warrant the same legal restriction as those that are broadcast, perhaps. I submit that the only reasonable line to draw is not based on how strongly you care about something (as people may care intensely about their unreasonable prejudices), but whether the criticism should be defined as acceptable (rather than abusive) must centre on whether or not it concerns something for which the person is responsible.

There are certain things I would never do...

“There are certain things I would never do…”

(An essay on principles, dilemmas and consequences…)

There are certain things I would never do. If I was in a committed relationship, I would never cheat on my partner. I would never steal something out of greed or jealousy. I would never attack a person as an act of aggression. I would never deliberately deceive someone in order to exploit them… I could go on.

Are these principles? They seem like evidence of a strict, rule-based approach to decision-making. However, you might point out, these are perhaps a little too specific. “Why didn’t you say that you would never steal, full stop?” they might ask. And what about ‘do not kill’? I missed that out. Am I saying I think murder is ok?

Well, having studied and taught ethics for a while, I am very familiar with certain awkward hypothetical situations, each of which seems specifically designed to challenge the traditional idea that morality is about following rules. For example, there is now a whole ‘branch’ of ethics that deals with variations on a famous example suggested by Phillippa Foot (RIP) where you have to decide whether to divert a heavy ‘trolley’ away from a track with 5 people onto it, onto another line where it would kill just one. The point of most of these kinds of extreme examples, it seems, is to show cases where following a rule would lead to ‘worse’ consequences, and therefore show that principles are not the right way to approach ethics.

I think there are at least two valid points to these examples. Firstly, as a response to a sort of fundamentalist attitude where people apply Biblical laws in a strict, legalistic manner. Even if most people in the 21^st century would agree that some of the laws in the Old Testament are fairly ridiculous - (what exactly is wrong with blending wool and linen?) – they might still argue that we have to accept that the Bible is right about some laws – such as ‘do not commit murder’. “You can’t argue with that”, they claim, hoping to defend religion as the source of an absolute standard of ethics. Well, in my opinion, many of these situational examples show (with a fair degree of plausibility) that in some cases murdering someone seems to be clearly the right thing to do… (when the alternative is the genocide of millions, for example).

Secondly they show us the range of competing intuitions that we apply to life (which, for the vast majority of us, is not a straightforward matter). These intuitions include feelings about such things as freedom, anger, hunger and lust; and taboos about how we behave towards family, dead people, old people, and animals. If ethics were about blindly adhering to simplistic laws such as ‘do not lie’ without any consideration for these feelings about the situation and the potential consequences, then the most ethical people would be those who were most robotic – like following a programmed rule.

Utilitarianism claims to offer a rational and scientific alternative to following absolute laws. Most famously, Bentham defined this approach as seeking to achieve the ‘greatest happiness for the greatest number’. This can be approached in a systematic and logical fashion, and crucially, it can take into account evidence that might point towards which decision is likely to be most effective in causing positive consequences. For example, if evidence showed that shrimp was a highly tasty, nutritious and healthy food, this could be used to help justify ignoring the kosher rules about not eating shellfish.

So, we should not follow rules blindly, and consequences are important. This does not mean that we should disregard the idea of principles. Principles are a way of codifying the values we feel most strongly – they provide a landmark for an individual or a group that can guide them when our intuitions become confused and when the consequences seem equally awkward for each choice. However, they should not be seen as absolute principles. There is a problem with treating them thus, which is that when there is a situation where two principles conflict, (i.e. in order to keep to one principle, you have to break another), then you need a ranking of principles or some kind of meta-principle to decide which principle to stick to.

So, what did I mean when I said I would never do those things? I meant the following: because I know myself and my values, and despite my moral weaknesses, I cannot imagine ever being put in a position where I would feel any doubt that those things were the wrong choice. So, although I am aware that there might be some very extreme dilemmas where I should be willing to break them, I still think it is correct to say that these moral limits I mentioned are principles for me.

MacIntyre: bring back Aristotle's approach to ethics!

Alasdair MacIntyre has argued that ethical theories such as Bentham's Utilitarianism or Kant's deontological ethics have led Western moral philosophy into a dead-end. Anyone who has taken a course in ethics has probably been presented with dilemmas such as the famous hypothetical scenarios (there are lots of variations on this theme) where you can kill one person in order to save 5 others, or where you must choose between things such as betraying a friend or telling a lie. The thing is, he argues, such dilemmas are unsolvable, because there are so many unknown variables and there is no real context to the scenarios.

However, who cares?
After all, these aren't real cases.

However, anyone who has taken a course in ethics has probably also been presented with real ethical problems too: What should the law be on euthanasia? Is embryo research in order to find cures for diseases justifiable? Western moral philosophers seem just as unable to come up with consistent answers to these debates. After all, where do we start? Which meta-ethical scheme should we start with?

MacIntyre suggests that since the enlightenment, this never-ending argument has led Western ethics towards an impasse. Since there is no agreement on a starting point, the different sides to these debates have become 'incommensurable'. When people get understandably disillusioned, they set out on a road towards a moral relativism (or Nietzschean nihilism) where there are no right answers; where anybody's viewpoint is considered equally valid and there is no such thing as moral truth. Whilst I can sympathize with some of those who have argued that such relativism is rational, I share MacIntyre's distaste for this state of affairs. It is all too easy for people to take the cop-out route of just saying: this is my point of view, that's your view, and that's that.

Aristotle's ethics, however, offers us a starting point. There is a common goal to moral philosophy: to achieve eudaimonia (i.e. to live well). Everybody wants to be good, and everybody wants to be happy. Being virtuous, the Nicomachean Ethics showed us, was not a choice between doing the right thing or being happy. One isn't tied to fixed rules, nor does one have to act as if 'beneficial' consequences are all that matters.

Although I admit that it's not as if everything falls into place once you accept this basis of eudaimonia, I am inclined to agree that this is the way forward. Deciding what the virtues are is the next step. Understanding how to live in accordance with the appropriate virtues is another aspect to develop. However, within a society, I reckon these can be largely agreed upon, and provide a much better launchpad for real moral debates, rather than the formulas (both simplistic and complex) proposed to deal with a hypothetical dilemma-based ethics.

There are many critiques of MacIntyre's ethics that I would generally agree with, however as for his argument for a return to 'virtue ethics' - (which Elizabeth Anscombe and others have done too, I should point out) - I am thoroughly in favour.