Why is it so controversial to do the right thing for the environment?

Recycled plastic gravel

Source: © Anthony Wallace/AFP/Getty Images

This gavel, made of recycled plastic bottletops from a landfill in Nairobi, Kenya, failed to convince negotiators to reach a binding agreement to end plastic pollution

I recently stumbled across a very unsettling video. A man was about to eat an apple. He was ready to wash it with tap water only to realise that the water would make the apple dirtier than it was before. He grabbed some filtered water from a plastic bottle only to realise that it was filled with microplastics that would contaminate the apple too. He then thought of growing apples in his backyard. But the soil is no longer rich in the nutrients that make apples nourishing.

The video might have been exaggerating but the key idea is true: because of pollution and our exploitation of natural resources we are stuck in a very bad situation where the things we eat, breathe and touch can have long-term effects on our health and wellbeing.

Governing bodies have taken notice of this for quite some time. However, neither the UN Climate Change Conference that recently took place in Baku, Azerbaijan, nor the UN summit against plastic pollution seem to have made any progress. Why is it so hard to reach consensus? It seems that there is a strong clash between those that suffer the consequences of climate crisis and those that benefit from the products that cause it.

One could argue that those who resist substantial change are driven by a strong consequentialist attitude. According to consequentialism, an action is judged as right or wrong depending on its overall consequences. If the consequences are beneficial then the action is deemed right; if not, then the action is deemed wrong and should not be taken. Utilitarianism, which is the most standard form of consequentialism, spells this out more precisely in that an action is deemed good if it maximises our wellbeing.

It is not hard to see how those that are opposing measures against climate change are following a consequentialist attitude. During the summit against plastic pollution, a deal on imposing plastic production caps was blocked by the countries that are large oil producers. In this instance, the economic benefits of oil production were taken to outweigh its environmental consequences.

Does this show that consequentialism is a bad way to guide our collective actions? It wouldn’t be the first time this theory has been criticised. One problem with it is that by judging actions solely in terms of their consequences we are forced to admit actions such as murder as being wrong only in so far as they are harmful to someone (most obviously to the murdered person but also possibly to their close circle). This is a weird thing to say.

‘It is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong.’

Jeremy Bentham

An alternative to consequentialism is deontology. According to this moral theory, we should judge our actions based on their intrinsic value. In this context, the environment and its inhabitants have a moral right to respectful treatment. We humans have, in turn, a moral duty not to harm other beings. Viewed from this perspective, taking decisive measures against pollution and climate change is a virtuous act that we are morally obligated to take.

Defending the environmentalist cause is not controversial for a deontologist. But neither is it for a consequentialist if we take into account a key principle that underwrites this moral theory. As philosopher Jeremy Bentham famously put it: ‘It is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong.’1 If we admit this principle then there is only one coherent way to make sense of those who resist action: The overall wellbeing of the majority of people would be hindered by taking radical action against climate change. This would apply if the effects of climate change are less harmful than the financial instability caused by restricting the activities of polluting industries. Indeed, this kind of argument is often made by financially emerging countries such as China and India.

There are two problems with this line of thought though. The first is that we take economic wellbeing to be commensurate with other forms of wellbeing. But how much is a bottle of plastic-free clean water worth? How should we measure the value of clean air relative to the benefits of selling crude oil? I don’t have an answer, but intuitively it seems to me that drinking clean water and breathing clean air contribute more to one’s wellbeing than financial stability.

The second problem is that the consequentialist principle is not truly honoured by those who presumably use it to justify their actions. Bentham was explicit that we should measure the overall wellbeing of the majority of people. This does not seem to be the case here. In reality, different groups and communities serve their own interests, and the financial benefits of one group are taken to outweigh the effects that are suffered by others. This is crucial to realise when we collectively negotiate climate action.

Even if we ignore the injustice that is motivating the present deadlock around climate talks, those who benefit from the current situation seem to disregard a very important fact. No matter how fortunate one is to be able to consume organic fruit and veggies, drink water from glass bottles, and live in areas safe from floods and fires, the truth is that no one can escape this problem. In one way or another, pollution and its effects will affect everyone.