The number of animals used per year in scientific experiments worldwide has been estimated at 200 million—well in excess of the population of Brazil and over three times that of the United Kingdom. If we take the importance of an ethical issue to depend in part on how many subjects it affects, then, the ethics of animal experimentation at the very least warrants consideration alongside some of the most important issues in this country today, and arguably exceeds them in importance. So, what is being done to address this issue?

In the media, much effort seems to be devoted to discrediting concerns about animal suffering and reassuring people that animals used in science are well cared for, and relatively little effort is spent engaging with the ethical issues. However, it seems likely that no amount of reassurance about primate play areas and germ-controlled environments in Oxford’s new research lab will allay existing concerns about the acceptability of, for example, inducing heart failure in mice or inducing Parkinson’s disease in monkeys—particularly since scientists are not currently required to report exactly how much suffering their experiments cause to animals. Given the suffering involved, are we really sure that experimenting on animals is ethically justifiable?

In attempting to answer this question, it is disturbing to note some inconsistencies in popular views of science. Consider, for example, that by far the most common argument in favour of animal experimentation is that it is an essential part of scientific progress. As Oxford’s oft-quoted Professor Alastair Buchan reminds us, ‘You can’t make a head injury in a dish, you can’t create a stroke in a test tube, you can’t create a heart attack on a chip: it just doesn’t work’. Using animals, we are told, is essential if science is to progress. Since many people are apparently convinced by this argument, they must therefore believe that scientific progress is something worthwhile—that, at the very least, its value outweighs the suffering of experimental animals. And yet, at the same time, we are regularly confronted with the conflicting realisation that, far from viewing science as a highly valuable and worthwhile pursuit, the public is often disillusioned and exasperated with science. Recently, for example, people have expressed bafflement that scientists have spent time and money on seemingly trifling projects—such as working out the best way to swat a fly and discovering why knots form—and on telling us things that we already know: that getting rid of credit cards helps us spend less money, and that listening to very loud music can damage hearing. Why, when the public often seems to despair of science, do so many people appear to be convinced that scientific progress is so important that it justifies the suffering of millions of animals?

A pervasive view is that experiments on animals are necessary in order to find cures for diseases, and that it is better that animals suffer than that humans suffer. This view is somewhat confused: there are doubts about how relevant the results of animal experiments are to humans (see, for example, here and here), and many animal experiments do not attempt to save lives, nor even to discover something worthwhile—for example, a recent experiment in Japan involved applying electric currents to the nerves of conscious, temporarily paralysed cats in order to observe the extent to which the cats’ pupils dilated in response. Even ignoring these worries, is it acceptable to use animals to find cures for diseases in order to avoid human suffering?

For many, the answer to this question is likely to be a confident ‘yes’. However, the view that it is acceptable to inflict suffering on animals in order to spare humans is a particular application of the more general view that it is acceptable to inflict suffering on one type of being in order to spare another type. This more general view is widely reviled in modern times, and when applied within the human species, is associated with uncivilised and morally corrupt cultures: consider the subjection of Blacks to Whites in Apartheid South Africa, and the more recent subjection of Whites to Blacks in Zimbabwe. Is there good reason to suppose that discrimination on grounds of species is morally acceptable in a way that  discrimination on grounds of race is not?  Well, in fifteen years of studying philosophy, I have never encountered a good argument for the conclusion that so-called speciesism is morally acceptable. Animals may be different from humans in many respects, but it is their similarity to humans in a particular respect—their capacity to suffer—that grounds the ethical debate surrounding animal experimentation.

If it really is unjustifiable to cause suffering to animals in the name of science, why are relatively few people concerned with trying to stop it? Why do so many people believe that it is acceptable, and even essential? The answer is no doubt due in large part to the fact that humans have always exploited animals, and that it can be difficult to feel moral outrage in response to a familiar, ingrained practice. In essence, it is likely that many believe that animal experiments are justified because they are currently permitted, and because many apparently respectable people believe that they are justified. Possibly, even, many people recognise that such experiments are horrific, but convince themselves that they must be morally acceptable because it is too disturbing to confront the possibility that they are both unacceptable and permitted.  Similar factors can induce people to accept all sorts of peculiar, often unjustifiable, things: consider that, during Apartheid South Africa, many white people who had grown up with the regime viewed it as acceptable.  There is, moreover, psychological evidence for the fact that people are far more likely to accept a state of affairs if it has always been the case than if it is presented as a change from the current way, even if there is no independent reason to prefer the current situation (for an overview of this evidence, and a strategy for avoiding such status quo bias, see here). In addition to such bias, it also seems likely that many people are unwilling to entertain the possibility that animal experiments are unethical because they do not wish to associate themselves with activists who campaign for an end to animal experiments, whom they view as mostly disruptive and unreasonable. Whilst this is largely an unfair stereotype, a few such activists are undeniably disruptive and unreasonable.  Even so, we should take care not to allow our dislike of disruptive and unreasonable people to obscure our view of the important ethical issue to which they call attention. Recall that, ten years ago, those who campaigned to raise awareness of climate change were also regularly dismissed as disruptive and unreasonable. Today, however, climate change is recognised as one of the most important ethical and scientific issues of our age. Could the issue of animal experimentation receive similar recognition in years to come?

This week is Big Bang Week at the BBC, with various programmes devoted to the switch-on of CERN’s Large Hadron Collider (LHC) on Wednesday morning.  Many of these programmes are covered in this week’s issue of the Radio Times—the BBC’s listings magazine—which also features a short interview with Professor Brian Cox, chair of particle physics at the University of Manchester. Asked about concerns that the LHC could destroy the earth, he replies:

‘The nonsense you find on the web about “doomsday scenarios” is conspiracy theory rubbish generated by a small group of nutters, primarily on the other side of the Atlantic.  These people also think that the Theory of Relativity is a Jewish conspiracy and that America didn’t land on the Moon.  Both are more likely, by the way, than the LHC destroying the world.  I’m slightly irritated, because this non-story is symptomatic of a larger mistrust in science, particularly in the US, which includes things like intelligent design. [… A]nyone who thinks the LHC will destroy the world is a t**t.’ (Final word censored by Radio Times.) [1]

Who counts as a nutter and a t**t on this reckoning?  It is true that anyone who thinks there is a 100% chance that the LHC will definitely destroy the world is confused—but it’s probably also true that not many people really think this.  On the other hand, if anyone who thinks that it is worth taking seriously the (admittedly very slim) possibility that the LHC will destroy the world is a t**t, then there are many apparently very clever t**ts knocking about in our universities.  Among these are several of my colleagues: Nick Shackel has previously blogged about the risks of turning on the LHC, as has Toby Ord; and Rafaela Hillerbrand, Toby Ord, and Anders Sandberg recently presented on this topic at the recent Future of Humanity Institute-hosted conference on Global Catastrophic Risks. And, despite having chatted to each of these people about the LHC at some point or another, I’ve never heard any of them express sympathy for the view that the Theory or Relativity is a Jewish conspiracy or that nobody landed on the Moon.  So, are they t**ts or not?

Caution about the LHC may anger Professor Cox because it is ‘symptomatic of a larger mistrust in science’, but the readers he influences may oppose it for less lofty reasons.  In response to a news story in March about a couple of LHC critics in the US who have launched a lawsuit to prevent CERN from switching it on, public comments included, ‘These people are totally off the wall’, ‘This is science, not science fiction’, ‘This is possibly the dumbest lawsuit I have ever heard’, ‘So what!’, and ‘Y’know this sounds like the same sort of stupid idiotic crap you’d hear back in the early ages of the steam engine’.  None of the commenters quoted appear to have any knowledge of the risks involved in running the LHC, and so it seems plausible that their opposition to the lawsuit stems from little more than a judgment that the belief that the LHC might destroy the world is a bit silly. 

Silliness-aversion is not confined to internet discussion boards. It is present in academia too.  Robin Hanson and Anders Sandberg have remarked that various research topics—such as discovering whether aliens exist and guarding against the threat of zombified robots—seem to be given a wide berth by researchers, not because they are unpromising or unimportant, but because they are too silly. That serious issues might be neglected by intelligent people because of a pervasive view that they are silly is disturbing, to say the least. Those who are qualified to engage in (and get paid for) academic research typically have years of experience of defending their views against sophisticated and sometimes ferocious criticism, and that they are capable of being cowed by the prospect of being sniggered at seems almost unbelievable.  It is especially incredible when we consider that most of us, if asked, would no doubt insist that if you truly believe that something is worth doing, you should ignore the mockery of others and go ahead and do it: this sentiment is drummed into us as children, and is immortalised in endless fairy tales and movies like Billy Elliot.  Academics, then, should really know better.

But then, so should anyone.  If we expect a child to rise above his classmates’ sniggering when he takes up ballet or stamp collecting, surely an adult should be capable of doing the same when she is called a t**t for worrying about the destruction of the earth?  Professor Cox seems to be urging those who oppose the LHC to stop listening to the nutters, use some intelligence, and get behind it.  However, there is just as strong a case for urging those who have got behind it to stop listening to the bullies, use some intelligence, and give some serious consideration to whether they should  oppose it.

Added later: [1] Professor Cox has posted a response to this quotation here.