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Suicides Represent a Net Gain for Society

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Or, Altruistic Reasons to Commit Suicide

Arguing against suicide, a correspondent writes:

By choosing to live one can prevent much more suffering than by killing oneself (hundreds or thousands times more!). Everyone who thinks about suicide knows how horrible suffering can be (and therefore should know how important it is to prevent as much of it as possible). I agree that it is better not to be born at all, but now that we are alive, we have the choice. If I kill myself I can spare myself some amount of suffering, but if I choose to live and dedicate my life to helping others I can spare them hundreds or thousands times more suffering.

I have previously indicated that one of the reasons I have not committed suicide to date is that I know my death would cause considerable pain to others. But this made me wonder: what is, in fact, the net effect of suicide?

Actually, it turns out that suicides are probably on balance good for society. A 2007 study found that considering all the economic impacts of suicide, the 30,906 suicides completed in 1990 actually saved the United States $5.07 billion – in 2005 dollars (about $160,000 per suicide). That’s right – suicides, on balance, represent an economic gain for society.

What about the environment? An American produces about 20 tons of carbon dioxide per year. A 33-year-old female like me, with 50+ years left of her natural lifespan, could presumably prevent 1000 tons of carbon dioxide from reaching the atmosphere by packing it in early.

That is not to mention the many other harmful effects that people, particularly first-world people, have on the environment and its inhabitants.

I have argued that the possibility of doing good for others is extremely limited, partially by what I term the altruistic treadmill. I am highly skeptical of the claim that a person can sustainably increase the well-being of other people. (See, e.g., Lykken and Tellegen’s “Happiness is a Stochastic Phenomenon.”) I suspect that a real-life It’s a Wonderful Life would be much more ambivalent than the theatrical version. At any rate, such an increase in well-being would have to outweigh the concrete, measurable gains to society from ending one’s life – $160,000, a thousand tons of carbon dioxide, and one less mouth to feed – not to mention never, ever again triggering an ostracism response in another human being, nor hurting anyone or anything again, ever.

You would have to be a pretty stellar human being to make up for that. I’m mostly speaking for myself here, but I doubt most people who have gotten to the point of considering suicide have the capacity to drastically improve the lives of others in a sustainable way, to reach a magnitude large enough to offset the very real gains to society that their suicides would entail.

Also: this is probably the point where I should get the hell off of blogspot before they delete all my shit.

Written by Sister Y

May 24, 2011 at 2:58 pm

The _____ Must Go On

with 15 comments

Something Greater

Virtually everyone agrees: there is something that is extremely important, more important than the concerns of individuals—perhaps even universally important. The exact nature of this important something varies, but what does not substantially vary is the fact of believing something to be of all-encompassing importance. The importance of this something is often so self-evident to those who value it as to be axiomatic to them.

Forms of Valuing

There are many ways to value something, or to express its importance. When we value something, we may devote attention to it, as with a piece of music, a painting, a child, a lover, a novel, a sport. We may even suggest or demand that others devote attention to it, as we do when we write essays or make laws. If the valued something is an aware being, such as a dog, we may act to give it pleasure, or to prevent its suffering. If it is a conscious being with its own values, i.e., a person, we may express its own universal value by promoting what it values. This is what we do when we enable another to make a choice that we do not agree with.

Especially if the valued thing is NOT a conscious being, our devotion may rise to the level of reverence, as we might express toward a flag or a god. This may be expressed in protecting it from competition from other symbols, or prohibiting its symbolic desecration.

The _____ Must Go On

There is one way of acknowledging or expressing something’s value, however, which is often mistakenly viewed as the only way to properly value something: to preserve it, to promote its longevity, to ensure its continuation into the future, as long as possible.

Maximizing longevity—the lifespan of a person, for instance, or of a political or ethnic group, or of a religion, or of a species—is not the only way to acknowledge that it has value. Why is so much importance placed upon a thing’s position and duration in time?

In “A Right of Self-Termination?” (Ethics 109 (April 1999): 606-628), J. David Velleman considers two of the forms of valuing that I list above: respect for the expressed values of a conscious being, and promoting longevity. He argues that the latter trumps the former; that is, we need not respect the stated value of a conscious being if that expressed value is the desire for the being to end. I claim (see Respecting and Erasing) that promoting longevity and continuation is only one of many ways of expressing something’s value. Robert Rauschenberg, I note, expressed and highlighted the profound aesthetic value of a Willem de Kooning drawing by erasing it. A familiar story is that of a group disbanding, rather than compromising its ideals in order to continue. All those Aztec codices burned because of their enormous value—value that threatened to compete (symbolically) with new mythologies and political systems. They turned to cinders, yet still condors scream from them in our imaginations.

Why Longevity?

If something matters in and of itself, not just instrumentally—if it has value not only in the positive feelings it gives to existing beings, but inherently—what does it matter when or for how long it exists in time? Why should we care so much about duration and continuity only, to the exclusion of the intensity, integrity, or other qualities of the valued thing’s existence?

This question, I propose, has an answer: we express the value of our “important somethings” in terms of preventing their extinction because we wish to—but cannot—prevent our own individual extinction.

This psychological explanation is not arbitrary; it is empirically grounded in the robust results of the field of Terror Management Theory.

Judges and Prostitutes: An Introduction to Terror Management Theory

In 1989, a small group of psychologists decided to subject some of the claims of Ernest Becker’s influential-but-fuzzy Denial of Death to empirical testing. Becker’s model proposes that “human civilization is ultimately an elaborate, symbolic defense mechanism against the knowledge of our mortality.” Okay. How do we test that?

The scientists, Tom Pyszczynski, Sheldon Solomon, and Jeff Greenberg, decided to test whether a reminder about one’s own death (a “mortality salience induction,” in TMT jargon) would change a person’s behavior. They chose as their experimental subjects a group of judges, who are culturally expected to be fair, impartial, and unmoved by emotional matters such a fear of their own deaths.

Both the experimental group and the control group were given packets of questionnaires to fill out. However, tucked among these many pages of questions, the experimental group was given a mortality salience induction: the judges were asked to describe, in as much detail as possible, what they expected to happen to their physical bodies when they died, and the feelings this aroused in them. The control group was given a control question instead.

Both groups were then asked to make a very simple (simulated) legal judgment: to set bail for a prostitution charge. Would there be a significant difference between the bail set by mortality-salience-induced judges and control judges?

Yup. Big time. Like, an order of magnitude.

The control judges set the bail amount for an average of $50. The judges who were asked to contemplate their own deaths set the bail at an average of $455.

Why Do Death-Reminded Judges Pick On Prostitutes?

Terror Management Theory posits that the judges, reminded of their own extinction, unconsciously engaged in the psychological practice of worldview defense. Reminded of their own eventual extinction, they reached for something eternal to attach themselves to, in order to achieve symbolic immortality. The “important something” they chose was the traditional idea of law and order, violated by this hypothetical prostitute. The death-reminded judges, the theory goes, punished the prostitutes for their violation as a way of protecting the institutions of law and order and traditional society, allowing the judges to attach themselves to something eternal-seeming, and hence symbolically prevent their own extinction.

Prostitutes threaten law, order, and traditional morality. Judges reminded that they themselves are under threat of death were willing to do more to protect these “eternal” values.

From this one colorful, evocative experiment sprang a field of study whose results have been replicated and expanded worldwide. It would be impossible to even touch on the variety of experiments that have been conducted. It even works when the death reminder is not explicit, and may not even register consciously – as when one group of experimental subjects was asked to report to an experimental site located near a funeral home, and control subjects to another site. Imagine how many death reminders each one of us receives daily, without even realizing it.

And it’s not just ordinary physical death that triggers such responses, although they do so extremely strongly. It can be a reminder of social death as well—the threat of losing one’s place in society, which, in the EEA as in modern times, frequently contributes to actual death.

What Must Go On?

What else do we cling to when reminded of our own eventual extinction? Religion is a big one—occasionally promising actual immortality to believers, although this need not be the case. Political and ethnic groups, symbols, and ideas form powerful targets of worldview-defending attachment: dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. Nature and endangered species work well as Something Higher.

As my title suggests, the cry of an entertainer is that “the show must go on.” As vacuous as entertainment culture may be, it does have its Something Higher that trumps the individual needs of the performers. Art is a powerful worldview defense.

And then there’s having babies.

Children offer the closest thing to physical immortality. Our genes, if not our bodies, may live on after us; this is a major reason why people are willing to beggar themselves in order to have genetic children. But even raising non-genetic children allows people to pass their stories and information into the future, or imagine that they do so: to imagine that they have an effect on the future, rather than extinguishing completely.

Aside from personal survival through one’s own family, there is a nearly-universal feeling that the human race should go on. This is perhaps the ultimate remedy for mortality salience. Without humans (or at least conscious creatures), there can be no stories. We must be able to imagine the world continuing after us, and we can only do so through stories.*

Must The _____ Go On?

I am not arguing that art, nature, family, justice, humanity, or the Green Bay Packers are not important. What I wish to demonstrate is that our most strongly-held values arise through a non-conscious, irrational process to which we have no access. This is, I think, reason enough to look at our most strongly-held values with uncertainty and suspicion. We do not arrive at our deepest values by reflection and reason. To a large degree, our values “just happen”—like our brains. When our values conflict—the value of preventing suffering versus the value of preserving the human species—we are tempted to choose the latter because it feels axiomatic to us. But that is a reason to treat it with extra suspicion, not to treat it as axiomatic.

That we feel something is of all-encompassing value is not evidence that the something has such value, as much as it is evidence that we are driven to see things as valuable. The “must go on”-ness is primordial to the valued thing itself.

Readers who find this familiar will note that I wrote about this a long time ago.

For that, please read the information-dense, highly entertaining, incredibly well-written In the Wake of 9/11: The Psychology of Terror, written by the scientists themselves. (The book has almost nothing to do with 9/11 or terrorism, except that terrorist acts are highly visible death reminders that may be exploited for their capability to arouse worldview defense.) For an introduction that requires less time investment, watch the documentary Flight from Death: The Quest for Immortality, which is awesomely available to watch instantly on Netflix.

* I do so when I imagine someone reading an essay of mine after I am dead; not even a suicide is immune to this phenomenon.

Written by Sister Y

January 20, 2011 at 9:00 pm

30% of Children Wish They’d Never Been Born

with 15 comments

Chip Smith points to a study, published in the American Journal of Sociology in 1932, with the surprising result that 30% of a broad sample of children studied expressed a wish never to have been born. (I know someone pointed me to this before, but I forget who it was.)

Life’s cheerleaders will no doubt argue that such wishes, while common, are most likely fleeting and not of a serious nature. However, I think this study must suggest to even the cheeriest of us that most people’s feelings toward life are ambivalent from the very beginning of mature consciousness. A feeling of certainty that anyone brought into being will be grateful to his creators is not justified. The essential value of one’s own life is not a feeling universally shared.

Many, many people are not glad to be alive. They are among the most seriously wronged by being brought into existence. But (and the author of the above study is a case in point) their position is pathologized and not taken seriously; even though cheeriness is not the universal position, it is assumed to be the correct position. Any deviation from gratitude for life does not, from the dominant point of view, need to be sincerely considered.

Written by Sister Y

September 30, 2010 at 5:16 pm

How Do You Want Your Death to Be? Finding Common Ground with Non-Suicides

with 7 comments

Each one of us will die. What do you want your death to be like?

What do you want to happen when you die? Do you want to live as long as possible? How long would be ideal? Do you want to die in a hospital, or at home? If you were dying of pancreatic cancer, would you want complete pain relief, even if it meant that you might die from a morphine overdose? Or would you want to live as long as possible, even if in pain? Would you want doctors to introduce a feeding tube? What if the feeding tube gave you severe, constant diarrhea? If you had lived with Alzheimer’s for a decade and could no longer recognize anyone and didn’t know where you were, and you came down with pneumonia, would you want to be treated for it and cured of the pneumonia? Or would you want to die naturally of pneumonia, even though it is a treatable condition? Do you want to continue living as long as you are conscious? As long as you are able to have meaningful interactions? As long as you are able to maintain your activities of daily living? As long as you can hold your grandchildren? As long as you are, technically, alive? Do you want the ability to control the manner of your death?

There is no right answer to any of the questions above. People’s wishes for their own deaths are idiosyncratic, and should be: people’s wishes for their lives, and definitions of a good life, are certainly diverse; why should the same not be true of death? The question is: once you have though about your own death and decided what you want, do you want to deny another person his “good death”? Or do you want people to be free to have lives, and deaths, as close to their ideals as possible?

Admitting that death is a natural part of life, and thinking about how we want our own deaths to be, is, I think, an important part of being a mature human being. However, some authors, like Thomas Joiner, think that irrational, visceral fear of death is not only healthy, but that it is pathological to lose this fear of death:

. . . the erosion of fear and the attendant ability to tolerate and engage in lethal self-injury may set into motion still other psychological processes that are important in suicidality; namely, the merging of death with themes of vitality and nurturance. Only when people have lost the usual fear and loathing of death do they become capable of construing it in terms related, ironically, to effectiveness and belongingness. Only those who desire death and have come not to fear it can believe that through death, their need to belong and to be effective will be met. [Why People Die By Suicide, by Thomas Joiner. Harvard University Press, 2005, p. 226.]

But it is far from clear that the “usual fear and loathing” of an inevitable, natural, well-understood process is healthy and in the interests of human flourishing. Such a fear prevents honest and productive reflection on one’s own death.

This is not to say that dislike of death, or a strong preference against death, is a problem. A strong preference against death might be an important value held by a person, based upon which the person may make rational decisions. But, except in terms of crude survival, an irrational “fear and loathing” of death is not warranted, nor should it be encouraged.

There are many obstacles to having a mature conversation, as citizens, about death. The irrational fear of death (as opposed to a love of life) is one of these obstacles. But there are other obstacles. One, I think, is the tendency for some in the anti-suicide community to emotional overreaction to any reference to suicide in the wider culture that is not both deadly serious and in accord with their beliefs.

For instance, this week, someone calling himself an “internet safety campaigner” for the British anti-suicide group PAPYRUS, is calling for the “removal” of a computer game called Billy Suicide, in which players try to prevent a character from committing suicide by maintaining his caffeine and antidepressant levels, among other things. (One can only imagine he hasn’t heard of Karoshi Suicide Salaryman, in which each level’s puzzle calls for the player to help a cute, energetic salaryman commit suicide.) Says the “internet safety campaigner” (in the Telegraph):

This game is completely irresponsible and the people who made the game should realise the damage that it can incur in the terms of somebody taking their (sic) own life

A “spokesperson for the Samaritans” agrees that culture-wide discussions of suicide should never, ever happen with any lightheartedness, based on a credulous acceptance of the poorly understood and controversial phenomenon of suicide contagion:

Suicide is not a light-hearted subject and is (sic) should always be taken seriously.

Certain types of suicide portrayal can act as a catalyst to influence the behaviour of people who are already vulnerable, particularly young people, and result in an overall increase in suicide and/ or an increase in uses of particular methods.

I think that, in the interest of greater cultural maturity on the issues of death and suicide, all conversations about death and suicide should be encouraged – even seemingly immature conversations, and conversations that take place via marginalized art forms like computer games. Good faith should be presumed, rather than malice. It is not pathological, but crucial that we lose our cultural fear of death.

An old family friend used to joke that, when he got so old as to be helpless, he wanted his sons to roll him out into the woods he’d hunted in for years, in his wheelchair, and hang strips of raw bacon over his ears so that the bears would eat him. This was his way, I think, of introducing the somewhat tabooed topic of death control – telling people that he didn’t want to die, helpless and intubated, in a hospital. I don’t think he was wrong to make such a remark.

A person who does not fear death is not a monster or mentally ill. He is free to pursue his values as he sees them – including, often, a love for life and a desire to avoid death. He may be courageous in the face of death or danger, able to realize that some things are more important than preserving his own life at any cost. He need not be a suicide; usually, he is probably not a suicide. He is not the slave of his genes. He is not a slave at all.

Written by Sister Y

November 13, 2008 at 9:14 pm

Mark Twain’s Fairy Tale

with 10 comments

The Five Boons of Life
by Mark Twain


     In the morning of life came the good fairy with her basket, and said:
     “Here are the gifts. Take one, leave the others. And be wary, choose wisely; oh, choose wisely! for only one of them is valuable.”
     The gifts were five: Fame, Love, Riches, Pleasure, Death. The youth said, eagerly:
     “There is no need to consider;” and he chose Pleasure.
     He went out into the world and sought out the pleasures that youth delights in. But each in its turn was short-lived and disappointing, vain and empty; and each, departing, mocked him. In the end he said: “These years I have wasted. If I could but choose again, I would choose wisely.”


     The fairy appeared, and said:
     “Four of the gifts remain. Choose once more; and oh, remember – time is flying, and only one of them is precious.”
     The man considered long, then chose Love; and did not mark the tears that rose in the fairy’s eyes.
     After many, many years the man sat by a coffin, in an empty home. And he communed with himself, saying: “One by one they have gone away and left me; and now she lies here, the dearest and the last. Desolation after desolation has swept over me; for each hour of happiness the treacherous trader, Love, has sold me I have paid a thousand hours of grief. Out of my heart of hearts I curse him.”


     “Choose again.” It was the fairy speaking. “The hears have taught you wisdom – surely it must be so. Three gifts remain. Only one of them has any worth – remember it, and choose warily.”
     The man reflected long, then chose Fame; and the fairy, sighing, went her way.
     Years went by and she came again, and stood behind the man where he sat solitary in the fading day, thinking. And she knew his thought:
     “My name filled the world, and its praises were on every tongue, and it seemed well with me for a little while. How little a while it was! Then came envy; then detraction; then calumny; then hate; then persecution. Then derision, which is the beginning of the end. And last of all came pity, which is the funeral of fame. Oh, the bitterness and misery of renown! target fo rmud in its prime, for contempt and compassion in its decay.”


     “Choose yet again.” It was the fairy’s voice. “Two gifts remain. And do not despair. In the beginning there was but one that was precious, and it is still here.”
     “Wealth – which is power! How blind I was!” said the man. “Now, at least, life will be worth the living. I will spend, squander, dazzle. These mockers and despisers will crawl in the dirt before me, and I will feed my hungry heart with their envy. I will have all luxuries, all joys, all enchantments of the spirit, all contentments of the body that man holds dear. I will buy, buy, buy! deference, respect, esteem, worship – every pinchbeck grace of life the market of a trivial world can furnish forth. I have lost much time, and chosen badly heretofore, but let that pass: I was ignorant then, and could but take for best what seemed so.”
     Three short years went by, and a day came when the man sat shivering in a mean garret; and he was gaunt and wan and hollow-eyed, and clothed in rags; and he was gnawing a dry crust and mumbling:
     “Curse all the world’s gifts, for mockeries and gilded lies! And mis-called, every one. They are not gifts, but merely lendings. Pleasure, Love, Fame, Riches: they are but temporary disguises for lasting realities – Pain, Grief, Shame, Poverty. The fairy said true; in all her store there was but one gift which was precious, only one that was not valueless. How poor and cheap and mean I know those others now to be, compared with that inestimable one, that dear and sweet and kindly one, that steeps in dreamless and enduring sleep the pains taht persecute the body, and the shames and griefs that eat the mind and heart. Bring it! I am weary, I would rest.”


     The fairy came, bringing again four of the gifts, but Death was wanting. She said:
     “I gave it to a mother’s pet, a little child. It was ignorant, but trusted me, asking me to choose for it. You did not ask me to choose.”
     “Oh, miserable me! What is there left for me?”
     “What not even you have deserved: the wanton insult of Old Age.”

Written by Sister Y

August 4, 2008 at 8:49 pm

Tort Law and the Harm of Death

with 5 comments

A question related both to philanthropic antinatalism (especially what some see as its apocalyptic implications) and to suicide rights is the question of whether death is a harm to the person who dies. Objections to death being a harm to the deceased person are that nothing can be a harm unless it is perceived by the harmed person, and that, if there are non-conscious harms, it is difficult to assign the harm to a subject. Thomas Nagel, in his essay “Death,” in Mortal Questions, grounds the special harm of death in the idea of deprivation: the subject is deprived (of future experiences), so to the extent that his life would have been worth continuing, he is harmed by death.

But even if death deprives a person of something, what harm is it to him, since he does not suffer by the deprivation? The case that Nagel finds convincing is that of an intelligent adult reduced, through traumatic brain injury, to the mental capacity of an infant. Surely, for Nagel, this person has been harmed, though he does not realize it or perceive it. Nagel, however, imagines this objection, which I imagine would be Jim’s objection:

He does not mind his condition. It is in fact the same condition he was in at the age of three months, except that he is bigger. If we did not pity him then, why pity him now; in any case, who is there to pity? The intelligent adult has disappeared, and for a creature like the one before us, happiness consists in a full stomach and a dry diaper. [Prurient emphasis mine.]

Nagel, of course, does not find this objection persuasive. He sees the harm as occurring, not to the brain-damaged person, but to the healthy person prior to the injury, in having been reduced to such a state. In other words, Nagel is willing to assign harm backwards in time. But is this so strange?

For a long time, I had a hard time intuitively understanding sexual jealousy. It seemed to have about the same objective reality as the cultural tradition of celebrating birthdays or saying “bless you” when someone sneezes. And, as an irrational, ridiculous, harmful social construct, it deserved no respect, and existed only to be eradicated. However, I have since been convinced by evolutionary psychology data that sexual jealousy is very much real, in the sense that it is not “socially constructed” like birthdays, and causes people genuine anguish. Though it is not intuitive to me, it is only proper to recognize that other people feel harmed by it, rather than assume they are making it all up. (Incidentally, the violent sexual jealousy suffered by humans, coupled with the sexual exuberance that humans also display, seems to function as a very real limitation on human happiness, at least given our current biological make-up.)

If harm can never occur unless someone perceives it as a harm, then we must take the position that sexual infidelity does no harm to the cuckolded partner, even where monogamy is promised, unless it is discovered. This presents two problems. First, it conflicts with the widely-held intuition that sexual infidelity is a harm to the unaware partner. If you refuse to sleep with your friend’s girl, you say, “I wouldn’t do that to my buddy” – not “I wouldn’t do that because it might get discovered.” Second, and related to this, is that when a person discovers that he has been betrayed sexually, he does not date the harm to the discovery; he dates it, most certainly, to the incident of the infidelity. (He is not sad that he found out; given the infidelity, he will probably say he is glad to have found out. He is sad that the infidelity occurred.) In cases like this, at least, it is common to backwards-date harm; are we forbidden to do this with the harm of death simply because, given our conception of time, causality cannot actually move backwards?

I must say that I am not entirely convinced of the rightness of either position; the idea that harm can occur when there is no one to perceive it is intuitively strange to me, but the objections commonly offered do not leave my mind easy, either. (See O.H. Green’s “Fear of Death,” in Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, Vol. 43, No. 1, Sep. 1982, pp. 99-105, for a view on how death may be wrong (or “evil”) without actually being a harm.) I am persuaded by the arguments, however, and by the obviously conflicting intuitions of others, to the point where I have severe doubts about the goodness of ending life where a person wishes to continue to live, as prescribed in the “apocalyptic imperative” case.

I want to digress briefly to point out that, in the above-mentioned essay, “Death,” Nagel articulates both a pro-natalist position and the idea that not being born is not a misfortune (usually the more contentious half of the antinatalist asymmetry) in the same paragraph:

The fact that Beethoven had no children may have been a cause of regret to him, or a sad thing for the world, but it cannot be described as a misfortune for the children that he never had. All of us, I believe, are fortunate to have been born. But unless good and ill can be assigned to an embryo, or even to an unconnected pair of gametes, it cannot be said that not to be born is a misfortune.

But back to the harm of death. What I want to explain here is that American tort law, interestingly, accords with the view that death is not a harm to the person who dies, even when that person is killed by the wrongdoing of another!

When a person dies through the wrongful act of another, whether negligent, reckless, or intentional, there are two separate lawsuits (“causes of action,” in legalspeak) that may be pursued. First is what is called the survival action. To call it a “survival action” means that the right to sue existed while the person was alive, and continues after his death. (If someone is legally wronged during his life, he does not lose the right to sue for a remedy if he dies; his estate retains the right to sue for wrongs committed against him during his life.) Second is the wrongful death action, created by statute, to give the relatives of a deceased person a remedy for being deprived of his company and support.

The reason I claim that tort law accords with the notion that death is not a harm to the dead person is that, in the survival action, the decedent may only recover for harm that he experienced during his life. He may recover, for instance, medical expensed incurred prior to death, and for pain and suffering experienced prior to his death. But he gets nothing for being deprived of his life. As the court in the O.J. Simpson civil appeal (Rufo v. Simpson, (2002) 86 Cal. App. 4th 573) noted, in very quick killings, the only “compensatory damages” available may be for the damage to the victim’s clothing. (Punitive damages are available, interestingly, in the survival action for an intentional killing, even if compensatory damages are quite small; this accords with the strange idea proposed by O.H. Green that death may be evil, but not a harm!)

The harm of the death itself is recognized only in the wrongful death action – that is, as a harm to the survivors, not to the decedent himself. Interestingly, this is applied even where the survivors are suing a mental health practitioner for failing to prevent a suicide – the damage is recognized as harming the survivors, not the decedent. It is hard to square tort law’s failure to recognize death as a harm to the decedent with the alacrity with which other areas of the law impede suicide.

Apparently Eliezer Yudkowsky thinks death is a harm, though he doesn’t explain to whom, because “death events” create “negative utility.” Negative utility to survivors? Potential dead people who might fear death? In any case, how can something create negative utility if the people whose utility is to be measured are all dead? Surely there’s someone who’d be very happy to be alone in the world, happier than the average person currently alive. (Average utilitarianism suffers from some of the same problems as utilitarianism based on summing utility.)

[Quotation from poster]Unknown:

“Besides (in the usual single world): is Eliezer willing to kill off everyone except the happiest person, therefore raising the average?”

No. Because that creates Death events, which are very large negative utilities.

Sigh. Seriously, though, dude’s brilliant and I’d like to know what his essential values are.

Edit: Eliezer points to an explanation of his views on happiness and value in his essay, “Not for the Sake of Happiness (Alone).”

Written by Sister Y

June 5, 2008 at 1:22 pm