Why Contemporary Moral Issues Need to Be Controversial
Why Contemporary Moral Issues Need to Be Controversial
and why you should be a philosophy major
Welcome
Happy fall, everybody! The blustery weather has arrived here in Madison, and we’re feeling enlivened by the great sessions and conversations at last weekend’s NAAPE Conference.
We’ve assembled an excellent new group of undergrad curriculum creators this year, so please welcome Ari, SeaJe, and Nancy to our team.
And we’re excited to be working with our new postgraduate fellow Ria Dhingra, a recent UW–Madison graduate with a knack for writing and connecting ideas creatively. In addition to her work on our teaching guides, Ria will be a regular newsletter contributor. She’s also an avid note-taker, and the next few newsletters will be our takes and takeaways from NAAPE—what we were surprised/amused/delighted/inspired by. (Do you have reflections on this year’s NAAPE that you’d like to share? Let us know!)
In today’s newsletter, Ria interviews Harry Brighouse about teaching controversial issues, shares an excerpt from her philosophy department graduation speech: “Why You Should Major in Philosophy,” and offers some seasonal recommendations.
With Ria’s help, we’ve spruced up some of our Substack tabs, including a new About page and welcome email, so please visit our resources and keep on sharing!
—Carrie
Icebreaker
My new favorite icebreaker, which makes me realize that nothing is boring, is:
Share a boring fact about yourself.
Teaching Contemporary Moral Issues
A Chat With Harry Brighouse
by Ria Dhingra
“The most controversial thing about teaching controversial issues is deciding what is controversial.”
- Diana Hess
(quoted by Jeremy Stoddard at the recent Education for Democracy Panel)
PHILOSOPHY 341: Contemporary Moral Issues, is a prerequisite course for countless majors at UW–Madison. Over the years, the syllabus of the class has changed alongside with the student body, from readings dedicated to funding the arts to divorce to affirmative action.
Ria, who took the class in spring 2022, sat down with Professor Harry Brighouse, who has taught this course over 30 times.
…
R: I know you're a big fan of icebreakers. So I want to start with this: what is your favorite topic you’ve taught in 341?
HB: Oh, the morality of abortion, for sure. It’s the only topic I have taught every single time I’ve instructed the course. The philosophical literature is both excellent and accessible; it raises all sorts of questions about life, death, the permissibility of killing, and what is valuable about life. The issue is always publicly in dispute: where abortion itself is morally permissible or not, or in which situations abortion is morally permissible or not. It’s a topic students are familiar with, so they come in with their own intuitions which are then challenged.
R: I totally understand what you mean by challenged. As a student, this unit was one of the most memorable for me. I found myself deeply uncomfortable at times; having to express my instinct in terms that were not political, but rooted in philosophical arguments; and I read some incredibly compelling arguments which I had never considered before. I think about the Judith Thompson paper all the time, not the argument itself, but the style of argumentation was just so novel to me. As a former “debate kid,” argumentation was, to me, never conceding to the other side. What Thompson did was so incredibly clever; she essentially said, “Imma let you have this one. You win your biggest argument. Congratulations. Sure, abortion is murder. Now, I’m going to argue for circumstances where it’s okay to murder.” At the time, I was mind-blown, not about the content of her paper, but about presenting an argument in that manner. It felt so sassy and smart.
HB: [laughter] I love that. And I think it’s very funny. The Thompson paper has a lot of currency in the US compared to other countries… I’m always surprised by people thinking abortion is an “obvious” issue: there is so much good literature on either side, and it strikes me as intrinsically hard.
R: In dealing with conversations about both sides… Tell me about the first time you taught a class like this. Were you nervous about discussing such heated issues?
HB: I had definitely never taught a class like this before. But, no, I was not nervous about the content. I was nervous about it being a large lecture. It’s taken me years to figure out how to lecture without making it the case that students do not read. How to make time useful for the students and how to set up the class. Another professor approached this class by doing a topic a week, covering 14 contemporary moral issues. I think with your group, we covered 5 in total.
“There is so much literature to consider, and the more you learn about each topic, the more conflict a student feels internally and the better discussions can be had about that discomfort.”
R: Was there a reason for that?
HB: Yes, I think I wanted a balance between talking about issues versus diving into issues. There is so much literature to consider, and the more you learn about each topic, the more conflict a student feels internally and the better discussions can be had about that discomfort.
R: Did you witness outward discomfort in the class? Were you worried at how a bunch of 18-22 year olds would disagree?
HB: No. It’s not something I observed much. I’m sure there were moments where students were seething internally, but in the class itself I felt in control. Students could express their private emotions in discussion posts or small groups, and in the large class it was very respectful… There was a single case where things seemed “heated.” It was the semester you were in my class. It was the cell phone unit… It was the penultimate unit of the class, and these students were in deep, passionate, disagreement. However, they did not slip into reasoning that wasn’t philosophical or name calling. And afterwards, I put them all in a small group together for an activity and they immediately got to work. The class was electric and a really successful example of an interaction I want from students in 341. Afterwards, another student noted how they could tell how carefully I was monitoring body language that day and how that affected my own interventions.
R: Only you would call a disagreeing class getting extremely heated as “electric.” [laughter]
HB: Well, that’s the point of the class, is it not? How to confront being heated?
R: You’re touching on this a bit now. What is the primary education aim for a course like 341? With such a broad range of students, especially non-philosophy majors, how do you approach achieving those aims?
HB: Well, there are a number of aims for this class. For me, most importantly, it’s that: students learn to give and take reasoning, to ask questions, to disagree profoundly about moral or philosophical questions in a way that leads to respectful and productive discussion. Another thing is that I want students to examine and scrutinize and justify their own views. I want them to consider that they might be wrong about something.
R: I’ve definitely experienced some of what you are talking about. Just to simplify: What would you want a non-philosophy major to walk away with in this class? What about a philosophy major?
HB: For a course like this, I generally don’t expect people to remember the names of the philosophers. I think the aims are actually really similar. I want this to be a humanities course that is distinctly different from English or History. I want all the students who are here by force due to a prerequisite to feel they are not wasting their time, to learn how to reason across differences. For philosophy majors, I want them to know philosophy isn’t all theory, it’s applied ethics.
R: Did you know my favorite part about this class was reasoning with non-majors? They brought a new perspective while using the same methodologies of reasoning. Plus, I technically, formally, only declared my major after this course. You’ve actually converted a lot of people to embark on this major simply because of 341.
HB: Really? That’s wonderful. [laughter]
R: So, I recall there being a series of Google surveys at the start of this class to gauge our political perspectives. How do you pick topics to teach? Have you ever changed the topics halfway?
HB: I’ve never changed topics mid-semester, but a couple things come to mind when picking them. First, I want some topics students are very familiar with, like abortion, and some they are unfamiliar with. This way they encounter some issues with predispositions that are challenged by readings and other issues where the readings themselves form student dispositions. The main criterion is that there has to be good, philosophical literature on more than one side. Abortion has that. Slave labor very much does not. I only feel comfortable teaching students readings that I deeply respect. I want topics that are also relevant in terms of moral issues students will encounter in their lives outside of the classroom, like the gendered division of labor and divorce.
R: Stepping back a little. How do you define the term controversial? And how do you know if a moral or social issue is controversial?
HB: So, for me, there are two different ways to answer this. First, controversial means a topic that people disagree about in public. Second, and this is more narrow, I think it’s a topic that gives rise to reasonable disagreement with valid supporting theories. It’s the difference between screaming at one another about a topic and a topic that elicits valid discourse and reasonable arguments. Some topics have both kinds of controversy.
R: With that definition, do you think all topics covered in 341 are controversial? Is controversiality a prerequisite to a moral issue?
HB: Simply, yes. Tax policy, same sex marriage, abortion, divorce. These are people’s lived realities. And, in some cases, very unfortunately, these are topics that people disagree about in public. So, learning how to reason about them is important to navigate that controversiality.
R: How do you decide what issues to “retire” from the syllabus? Hypothetically, if there was one day a massive increase of compelling literature on one side, would you retire it?
HB: Honestly, if I ever get bored of an issue, I stop teaching it. In the case of funding the arts, by the time I went through the literature (which I did not know very well the first time I taught it) I realized it’s not as rich. I could not imagine myself presenting both sides as compellingly as I wanted because of that. Other issues, like human cloning, students did not seem to get excited about; the discussion was not lively enough to justify keeping it. I do not get rid of an issue because of mass consensus, because there has been wrong mass consensus historically on moral issues before.
“Pre-disclose your decision to not disclose to your students.”
R: As you’ve mentioned, these courses respond to student need. And there is a rise in classes like these across higher ed institutions. Any advice for anybody instructing a class on contemporary moral issues? What pedagogical strategies work best for a class like this?
HB: Well, for one, you have to teach relativism and objective morality fairly early, but not immediately. You do not need to teach basic logic, you lose students that way and you don’t totally need it for this course. I would say don't disclose what you think about the issues; it’s not wrong from students, but probably wrong for you and how you teach after. Pre-disclose your decision to not disclose to your students. In discussion, I also tend to take the side(s) of the student(s) that have less popular opinions, boost them up a little. Additionally, have guiding questions that are not obvious. For the case of the Judith Thompson paper, I don’t ask, “Is murder permissible?” but I do address her unspoken reliance on a self ownership argument.
R: Thanks for speaking with me today. I see you have “designer babies” written on the chalkboard behind you, so I’ll let you get to preparing for class.
Why You Should Major in Philosophy
(Or, at least, why you should take one class)
by Ria Dhingra, who wrote and gave a longer version of this talk at the UW–Madison philosophy graduation ceremony in May 2024.
Before declaring a major in philosophy, my perception of the discipline was tainted by stereotype. I always imagined circular rooms, with floor to ceiling oak finished bookshelves, and old white men sitting in a circle, discussing Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. To many, the pragmatism of such a pursuit was questionable. Upon declaring my major, the question I was often confronted with was, “well, what are you going to do with that?” My response, automatic after four years, was simple: “Yeah, I major in philosophy. I’m in it for the money.”
Now, with a degree framed in my childhood bedroom, I think I can confidently dispel some of these notions. First, I’m sorry to say that most of my philosophy experiences took place in fluorescently lit classrooms shared by students in the business and anthropology department. There was no grand, dark-academia coded, circular room with an exhaustive library. Second, the engagement of myself (a woman of color) and people like me is evidence that the study of philosophy is growing, diversifying to encompass a vast variety of identities and perspectives. Now, I will admit, we do talk about Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. We debate Descartes and Kant and Rawls and Spinoza. But, more importantly, I would like to assert that the study of philosophy is not a subject of memorization; it’s not being able to quote Hume at the drop of a hat. (Props to you if you can, though!)
Philosophy—engaging in metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics—is the pursuit of a truth much larger than ourselves. It’s more a discipline than a subject, a practice of rigorous inquisition, critical conversation, and collaborative creativity. In studying philosophy, I spent four years learning to productively converse with people who often vehemently disagree with me on issues ranging from the immortal soul to affirmative action.
In today’s increasingly complicated and politicized world, these skills are not only necessary in navigating society, but critical prerequisites for action: to serve as an agent of change. Being able to listen and think charitably, isolate ideals and identify stakeholders, know what constitutes a well constructed argument, and respond to stimuli with a degree of critical curiosity rather than blind acceptance empowers us as students to acclimate into the world following graduation. The versatile nature of this degree means that we are able to communicate, craft, and contribute to any field—a fact that is exemplified by the fact that 83% of students double (or even triple!) major in disciplines ranging from legal studies to economics to computer science here at UW–Madison. I believe the choice to major in philosophy, to develop as a critical thinker is not only pragmatic one, but needed today more than ever before.
Here’s another selling point: As a discipline predicated on discussion, the necessity of knowing your professors, often on a first name basis, and understanding your peers, often a cohort of people who sign up for courses together, is critical. Majoring in philosophy creates community in a world divided, a factor that was largely impactful for me as someone who was a college student at the height of the pandemic.
For me, it was prioritizing connection during a period of separation that defined this major. A department where professors are quick to share stories or offer to review an argument over a drink. A department where conversation always loses track of time and even writing papers are a collaborative endeavor.
Suddenly, everything is worth examining twice.
Over the past four years, I found myself having the sort of “deep” intellectual conversations I always imagined myself having in college: peers spending time after class for upwards of an hour, talking about a reading at lunch or on a late night phone call or while grabbing drinks on a Friday night. It sounds almost annoying, how much we all came to love what we study—it’s a sort of thinking you can’t really “turn off” once you start. Suddenly, everything is worth examining twice.
Philosophy, as a study, is a lot of things—characterized by a lot of stereotypes. But, ultimately, I believe Philosophy is a study that equips its students with the versatile ability to be continuously curious and then seek answers for those questions through rigorous conversation and argumentation.
Plus, if you ever feel out of place at a fancy dinner party, you can quote Socrates, Plato, or Aristotle (if you want).
Teaching with Podcasts in Dubai
We recently heard from Bill Frick, who runs the Center for Leadership Ethics and Change at the University of Oklahoma. Bill uses our podcasts and teaching guides in the education courses he teaches in Dubai. We were so delighted to hear that these resources were useful to him in this international context and grateful to get his feedback.
He uses these episodes in particular:
Bill says:
I use these podcasts to supplement other materials I’ve curated for the course Administration and Governance in Higher Education. This course is the gateway experience for the master’s degree program in higher education leadership at the University of Sharjah. By using the podcasts, I’ve been able to engage with my students in the UAE in ways that are qualitatively different than dealing with texts, listening to guest lecture practitioners, or engaging in writing activities. The discussions elicited from listening assignments are dense and focused. The podcasts open the door to another way of understanding the complexities and challenges of higher education. Although pertinent to a US context, the issues and recorded deliberation within the podcast, per se, have provided another means of exposing students to concepts pertinent to their degree program while challenging them to enter into a philosophical account of higher education with their own comparative-international perspectives.
Recommendations
A novel we’re reading: Intermezzo by Sally Rooney
Another newsletter we cannot get enough of: philosophy camp alum Lisa Sibbett’s excellent newsletter, The Auntie Bulletin
A moral dilemma to consider: Is googling people before you meet them unethical?
A podcast we collectively listened to: “Andrew Garfield Wants to Crack Open Your Heart” from NYT’s Modern Love Podcast
On the jukebox: Autumn is all about Elliott Smith, The Cranberries, and Adrienne Lenker
Bonus: This roundup of fall photos from UW–Madison (esp the matching sweaters in #7)
In the Comments
Share a boring fact about yourself, weigh in on the moral dilemma of googling people, let us know how you approach teaching controversial issues, or tell us what you’re listening to this season.
Examining everything twice,
Center for Ethics & Education
Interesting read. On abortion, I'd say the only counterargument to Judith Thomson that convinced me is Bernard Williams' "Logic of Abortion" (in which he refuted pro- and anti-abortion arguments alike, and which later Don Marquis plagiarized quite a lot from).
"But even if one were persuaded that one had the right to kill the incubus, it is hard to see how that conclusion could merely carry over to the abortion case. One difference between the cases is that pregnancy is normal and not freakish. Another is that, in itself, it only lasts nine months. Another is that, because it is normal, and normally issues in a baby, it has sentiments and reactions attached to it which could not be attached to the freakish case of the incubus. These differences do not all cut the same way with regard to the abortion issue, but, in my view, they do discourage the idea that we are going to get much insight into the rights and wrongs of abortion by considering what we might say about rights in such imaginary situations—situations which may have some structural resemblance to the pregnancy situation, but are, at the same time, freakishly unlike it.
This brings out a question which has been gradually pressing itself on us all the time: whether pregnancy, the situation in which abortion is in question, is enough like anything else at all for us to reach answers about it by analogy from other situations. While the definitional approach was faced with the problem that the foetus is neither just like nor just unlike an independently existing human being, argument by moral analogy faces the problem that pregnancy is, at once, highly familiar and also very unlike any other situation.
... This is a point about the experience of women. In the end, this issue can only come back to the experience of women. This is not because their experiences are the only thing that count. It is because their experiences are the only realistic and honest guide we have to what the unique phenomenon of abortion genuinely is, as opposed to what moralists, philosophers and legislators say it is. It follows that their experience is the only realistic guide to what the deepest consequences will be of our social attitudes to abortion."