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It is important to get the status of this third version of the
objection clear. Its accuracy as a prediction of human behaviour
is quite compatible with the argument that we are obliged to
give to the point at which by giving more we sacrifice something
of comparable moral significance. What would follow from the
objection is that public advocacy of this standard of giving is
undesirable. It would mean that in order to do the maximum
to reduce absolute poverty, we should advocate a standard
lower than the amount we think people really ought to give.
Of course we ourselves - those of us who accept the original
argument, with its hig1;ler standard - would know that we ought
to do more than we publicly propose people ought to do, and
we might actually give more than we urge others to give. There
is no inconsistency here, since in both our private and our public
behaviour we are trying to do what will most reduce absolute
poverty.
For a consequentialist, this apparent conflict between public
and private morality is always a possibility, and not in itself an
indication that the underlying principle is wrong. The consequences
of a principle are one thing, the consequences of publicly
advocating it another. A variant of this idea is already
acknowledged by the distinction between the intuitive and crit-
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icallevels of morality, of which I have made use in previous
chapters. If we think of principles that are suitable for the intuitive
level of morality as those that should be generally advocated,
these are the principles that, when advocated, will give
rise to the best consequences. Where overseas aid is concerned,
those will be the principles that le-ad to largest amount being
given by the affluent to the poor.
Is it true that the standard set by our argument is so high as
to be counterproductive? There is not much evidence to go by,
but discussions of the argument, with students and others have
led me to think it might be. Yet, the conventionally accepted
standard - a few coins in a collection tin when one is waved
under your nose - is obviously far too low. What level should
we advocate? Any figure will be arbitrary, but there may be
something to be said for a round percentage of one's income
like, say, 10 per cent - more than a token donation, yet not so
high as to be beyond all but saints. (This figure has the additional
advantage of being reminiscent of the ancient tithe, or tenth,
that was traditionally given to the church, whose responsibilities
included care of the poor in one's local community. Perhaps
the idea can be revived and applied to the global community.)
Some families, of course, will find 10 per cent a considerable
strain on their finances. Others may be able to give more without
difficulty. No figure should be advocated as a rigid minimum
or maximum; but it seems safe to advocate that those earning
average or above average incomes in affluent societies, unless
they have an unusually large number of dependents or other
special needs, oUght to give a tenth of their income to reducing
absolute poverty. By any reasonable ethical standards this is the
minimum we ought to do, and we do wrong if we do less.
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9
INSIDERS AND OUTSIDERS
THE SHELTER
I T is February 2002, and the world is taking stock of the
damage done by the nuclear war in the Middle East towards
the close of the previous year. The global level of radioactivity
now and for about eight years to come is so high that only those
living in fallout shelters can be confident of surviving in reasonable
health. For the rest, who must breathe unfiltered air
and consume food and water with high levels of radiation, the
prospects are grim. Probably 10 per cent will die of radiation
sickness within the next two months; another 30 per cent are
expected to develop fatal forms of cancer within five years; and
even the remainder will have rates of cancer ten times higher
than normal, while the risk that their children will be malformed
is fifty times greater than before the war.
The fortunate ones, of course, are those who were far-sighted
enough to buy a share in tl;le fallout shelters built by real-estate
speculators as international tensions rose in the late 1990s. Most
of these shelters were designed as underground villages, each
with enough accommodation and supplies to provide for the
needs of 10,000 people for twenty years. The villages are selfgoverning,
with democratic constitutions that were agreed to
in advance. They also have sophisticated security systems that
enable them to admit to the shelter whoever they decide to
admit, and keep out all others.
The news that it will not be necessary to stay in the shelters
for much more than eight years has naturally been greeted with
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Practical Ethics
joy by the members of an underground community called Fairhaven.
But it has also led to the first serious friction among
them. For above the shaft that leads down to Fairhaven, there
are thousands of people who are not investors in a shelter. These
people can be seen, and heard, through television cameras installed
at the entrance. They are pleading to be admitted. They
know that ifthey can get into a shelter quickly, they will escape
most of the consequences of exposure to radiation. At first,
before it was known how long it would be until it was safe to
return to the outside, these pleas had virtually no support from
within the shelter. Now, however, the case for admitting at least
some of them has become much stronger. Since the supplies
need last only eight years, they will stretch to more than double
the number of people at present in the shelters. Accommodation
presents only slightly greater problems: Fairhaven was designed