If development ethics is to be more than an academic exercise, it must confront urgent human problems. Sometimes the ethicist begins with moral dilemmas and searches for relevant ethical principles. Sometimes the ethicist applies to a new quandary principles that have proven helpful in grasping and resolving other moral issues or dilemmas.
The list of urgent practical challenges is lengthy, but at or near the top would be those challenges addressed in the next two chapters: over‐consumption and hunger. Many lives go very badly because some people in both the South and the North consume too much or the wrong kind of goods and services. One result is climate change, which endangers the planet and all its inhabitants. Others in both the North and the South suffer and even die from lack of food and other necessities. Moreover, in a globalizing world, that some have more than they need is sometimes the cause of others having much less than they need to have the real opportunity for at least a minimally adequate life.
The two chapters of Part III are efforts to understand and provide a normative – yet policy‐relevant – framework to help understand and resolve these problems of over‐consumption and under‐consumption, such as hunger. How should the development ethicist grasp and judge over‐consumption as well as hunger and other deprivations in the global North and South? Do richer individuals and nations have moral obligations either to alter their consumption patterns or to provide food aid and development assistance to countries and individuals suffering from hunger and other deprivations? In so, under what conditions and at what costs? In Denis Goulet’s apt phrase, over‐consumption and under‐consumption are global, national, and local challenges that “put development ethics to the test.”1 Can development ethics, especially when informed by the capability approach, contribute to the formation of ethically justified and responsible responses to these problems?
In this chapter I engage the capability approach with the “discourse ethic” of the Spanish philosopher Adela Cortina to generate an ethical principle relevant for assessing consumption practices in both the global North and South and to propose a guide for responsible action. The result, a further elaboration of my agency‐focused version of the capability approach, shows that the capability approach – contrary to the judgment of some critics – can provide an adequate account of ethical responsibility, including the duties of Northern consumers with respect to the developing world.2
In her book appropriately entitled Por una ética del consumo: La ciudadanía del consumidor en un mundo global (For an Ethic of Consumption: Consumer Citizenship in a Global World),3 Cortina has given the international community the most comprehensive ethical assessment available of current consumption practices, their causes, and their consequences. She offers this consumption ethic as one application of a general ethical outlook that clarifies and defends ethical principles and proposes – in the light of these principles – an account of the duties and rights of consumers as well as some guidelines for public policy. Her book, she hopes, will contribute to the search for “an ethic of consumption based on the values that ought to orient the tasks of humanity in this third millennium.”4 Unlike my earlier formulation of a prudential version of the capability approach and its application only to North American consumption,5 Cortina explicitly aspires to a cross‐cultural ethic of responsibility relevant for issues of international development and global justice.
Cortina correctly recognizes that Sen himself has offered neither a consumption ethic nor a complete ethical theory.6 She also realizes what many miss, that Sen provides resources for constructing various ethical outlooks and that these resources both open doors and provide some guidance about the features of an ethical outlook as well as an ethic of consumption.7 What does Cortina mine from the capability lode?
First, and perhaps most importantly, Cortina argues that Sen’s emphasis on human freedom rather than on commodities starts us off on the right track. Although keenly aware of the ways in which other people and our socially acquired beliefs, inclinations, and values condition us, Cortina repeatedly stresses that humans are moral agents and that they have (or should have) freedom – depending on both external and internal conditions – with respect to what they buy, maintain, consume, give to others, and use up.8 Because people’s consumption choices affect not only themselves but others near and far (in both space and time), and because it is important that any reasonable ethic assess the effects of our actions (on both ourselves and others), we need an ethics of responsible consumption.9 A prudential approach to consumption ill‐advisedly abstracts from many aspects of our life in the world. If we focus exclusively or in the wrong way on the consumption choices in relation to our own well‐being, we fail to take into account our moral obligations to others and, I would argue, to ourselves.
Cortina correctly sees that Sen’s carving out of the evaluative space of freedoms (capability) and functions (functioning) enables him to advance beyond “commodity fetishism” without falling into anti‐materialism. The market goods and services that we consume and give to others to consume certainly are important, but only as means to our freedom to be and act in ways that we have reason to value – including, but not limited to, securing our own well‐being. We should choose goods that liberate us (and others) from domination and necessity of various sorts and enable us and others to be and act as we choose, even when we choose to sacrifice our well‐being to some cause.
Second, crucial for Cortina in this context is one freedom: the freedom to be master of one’s own life, one’s own boss (su propio señor).10 To be master of one’s own life is to be self‐determining not only with respect to one’s conduct but also with respect to one’s moral commitments and beliefs. The autonomous person determines her principles and conduct for herself rather than having the “choice” made by someone else or some external or internal force.
In working out her consumption ethic, Cortina correctly grasps what many interpreters and critics alike miss – that Sen affirms and gives a fundamental role to the freedom that Sen calls “agency.” Recall Chapter 5, in which I discussed Sen’s ideal of agency in relation to the individual’s (or group’s) freedom for and achievement of deliberation, decision, and effective action in the world. Capabilities, as those freedoms or opportunities we have reason to value, are important not only because we value them but also because they enable us to exercise our agency. Cortina usually eschews the term “agency” because the Spanish translation (agencia) too readily suggests travel agencies (agencies de viajes), spies (agentes), or a boss’s lackey.11 She correctly recognizes that her concept of “autonomy” is close to Sen’s ideal of agency. For Cortina, in relation to consumption choices, we realize our autonomy not only when we independently and reflectively choose one consumption good over another, but also when we choose our moral commitments, including our consumption ethic.12
The concept of agency – which I find in Sen and want to defend – adds an additional element: the agent’s self‐determined choice and resultant action make some difference in the world. Person are agents to the extent that they are able to scrutinize critically their options, themselves decide (rather than have the decision made by someone else or some external or internal force), act to realize their purposes, and have an impact on the world. In my interpretation of Sen throughout this volume, I emphasize this notion of agency, and argue that it has become more prominent in his recent writings, and that it offers us an important ethical principle for evaluating development success and failure. Cortina finds much to agree with in the agency‐focused capability approach.
One question that Cortina and her colleague Jesús Conill take up, in the effort to strengthen the capability approach, is the question of priority between, on the one hand, agency freedom (and achievement) and, on the other hand, well‐being freedom (and achievement).13
Furthermore, Cortina, like Sen, accepts two implications of a commitment to agency: anti‐perfectionism and, with some qualification, anti‐paternalism. It is not up to philosophers to prescribe authoritatively to others the correct conception of the good life, or for legislators to impose on citizens one conception of the flourishing life. Cortina affirms:
In this type of substantive freedom [the capability to choose for oneself a conception of the good life in community], concrete persons choose what functioning they desire to exercise in order to carry out their vital projects. It is not a “perfectionist ethic” that lays out a model of the good life, but a liberal ethic that leaves open the choice of the happy life. But neither is this ethic an “ethic of negative freedom” or one of “procedural freedom.” Rather it is committed to the capability of persons themselves acting (comprometida con la capacidad de sí hacer de las personas).14
Third, in Sen’s own answer – “Equality of basic capabilities” – to his 1979 question, “Equality of what?,” Cortina finds language to articulate a fundamental principle in her ethic of responsibility: “an obligation to empower those found in situations of poverty, to strengthen their capacities in such a way that they can choose the functionings that they consider valuable.”15 Cortina accepts the prudential account of valuable capabilities, but only if it is construed as a platform for self‐determination and public discussion and is supplemented in important ways. Her project is to extend the prudential focus on one’s own self to other‐directed moral obligation. Rather than make (a list of) capabilities the end of the story, Cortina – like Sen – understands well‐being capabilities, to be discussed presently, as a platform that makes possible the exercise of agency. Because all humans are equal in dignity, we have certain moral obligations to each of them. One such obligation is to (try to) provide the conditions, including commodities and other material conditions, for all people to have those freedoms (capabilities) necessary to be able to be in charge of their own lives or have autonomy.
Cortina, we have seen, accepts Sen’s “Equality of what?” question and builds on his answer: “Equality of basic capabilities.” However, she and her colleague Jesús Conill also take a step that Sen does not take and ask a new question: “Capabilities for what?”
Sen, I argued in Part II and especially Chapter 5, sets forth well‐being and agency as both intrinsically good and as instrumentally important for each other. Our well‐being, which includes both freedoms (capabilities) and achievements (functionings), has to do with our own lives going well or the attaining of what Sen sometimes calls l “personal advantage.” Sen, we have seen, also contends that human beings have another descriptive and normative dimension: they are agents who usually can and should deliberate, make their own decisions, act, and effect change in the world. To be a full agent is to design and run one’s own life rather than be subjected to fate, impersonal structures, the will of others, or internal whims.
For Sen, both the well‐being and the agency dimensions are normatively important. We have good reason to value intrinsically the freedoms and achievements that constitute our own well‐being, and we also treasure as intrinsically good our freedom to choose and act as designers of our own lives. These two good aspects converge when we ourselves decide to benefit ourselves, for instance by deciding to expand our well‐being capabilities or to realize them in our activities. An individual is free to choose to promote and protect only his own well‐being. An individual, however, can and sometimes should choose in such a way that he subordinates his own well‐being to persons, groups, or causes beyond himself, such as his family, his business, his country, or social movement. People can and do exercise their agency in all sorts of ways, sometimes enhancing their well‐being but other times intentionally or unintentionally reducing their well‐being. The extreme is the hunger striker or suicide bomber who sacrifices her life for her cause.
Does Sen view either aspect as more important than the other? I believe not, although Sen could be clearer on this point. We have good reason, Sen affirms, to value intrinsically both our well‐being and our agency. It is important not only that an individual agent decide for herself but also that the exercise of agency effectively promote or protect well‐being – the agent’s and that of others. Democratic bodies, I shall argue in Chapter 9, should be judged not only by their engaging in inclusive and deliberative decision‐making but also by their expanding opportunities for well‐being.
Each aspect – agency and well‐being – may be instrumentally important for the other. I often know better than others what makes my life go well – for instance, what gives me satisfaction. An inclusive and deliberative democratic body, I will argue in Part IV, is more likely than either autocratic rulers or technical experts to make decisions that protect the well‐being of all. Likewise, without a basic level of well‐being, it is difficult for a person or group to have or exercise (full) agency. Such is the fate both of those individuals starving, in great pain, or paralyzed by fear, and of those groups composed of such individuals.16 Without agency, persons and groups lack the capacity to steer their lives in advantageous ways or, in short, to avoid or mitigate the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. For the very young, those severely incapacitated, or the very old, agency is not yet, or is no longer, a possibility; and the best to be attained (usually with the help of others) is a high level of functioning. For individuals displaced from their homes and subsisting in refugee camps, well‐being levels may be too low to exercise collective agency. For morally responsible adults and self‐determining groups, however, each of the two aspects is not only intrinsically good, but instrumentally valuable for the other.
It is precisely at this point that Cortina and Conill seek to move Sen’s capability and agency approach in a (more) Kantian direction and give agency a normative priority over well‐being. Both Cortina and Conill insist that we ask “Why capabilities?” or “Capabilities for what?”17 Their answer is that there is and should be a normative asymmetry between well‐being and agency. Although both well‐being (achievement and freedom) and agency (achievement and freedom) may be viewed as goods in themselves, agency is more important, for to choose well‐being over agency (or vice versa) is itself an exercise of agency. In this way Cortina and Conill seek to ground (fundamentar) capabilities (well‐being freedoms) and functionings (well‐being achievements) in what Sen calls agency and Kant calls moral freedom, autonomy, or rational agency.18 This “grounding” is not an effort to deduce a moral first principle from a self‐evident starting point. It shows, rather, that the choice – between, on the one hand, freedom as self‐determination and, on the other hand, well‐being freedoms (capabilities) or well‐being achievements (functionings) – is a fundamental choice that should itself be an act of moral freedom.
Self‐determining free acts and the potential capability (in the case of children) or actual capability (in the case of adults) for such choice are the basis of our dignity and worth as human beings. Due to our moral freedom, each human being is, at least potentially or by remembrance (in the case of the very old), an end in itself and not merely a means or tool for someone else’s projects. Cortina and Conill claim, then, to have made Sen’s commitment to human agency more explicit and to show that it presupposes the moral priority of agency over well‐being (whether capabilities or functionings).19 We might then call this ultimate freedom to exercise our agency – to be masters of our own lives – the capability of capabilities, a meta‐capability, or a super‐capability. We might also say it is what makes us persons.
How should we assess this argument for the normative priority of agency over well‐being? The best response, it seems to me, would be to agree that the choice of agency over well‐being is itself an act of agency, but to argue that this priority is a causal one and does not entail that agency is normatively superior to well‐being any more than the reverse is proved by the causal dependence of agency on some minimal level of well‐being.20 I would also argue (and I believe Sen would agree) against the absolute normative priority of agency over well‐being because without their equal moral urgency we would lack any basis for criticizing an autonomous individual’s taking her own life (as a selfish escape from moral duties to the well‐being of others and even herself), or a democratic body making decisions that harmed a minority or failed to protect the well‐being of all.
Sometimes, of course, agency should trump well‐being. It would be wrong for governmental officials to force‐feed an imprisoned hunger striker who has freely decided to protest against prison abuse by starving himself to death. But sometimes well‐being should trump agency, for instance when the state prohibits the sale of certain weapons (because they threaten others’ well‐being as well as agency) or addictive drugs (because they cause ill‐being as well as loss of agency).
Whether we conceive of agency and well‐being as of equal moral weight or give normative (in contrast to causal) priority to the former over the latter, what, in general, are the political, economic, and social implications of the importance of agency? Negatively, it means that individuals and groups have at least a prima facie duty neither to subject others to their will through coercion, manipulation, or deception, nor to submit – irreversibly or completely – to someone else’s will or to social conditioning. Positively, the affirmation of moral freedom means we have at least a prima facie duty to promote and protect other human beings and groups as masters of their own lives rather than as our (or someone else’s) subjects, vassals, or slaves. The commitment to moral freedom would also imply a prima facie duty to promote our own agency and that of others in relation to inner compulsions and autonomy‐eroding behavior.
With echoes of aristocratic practices of lordship but with an egalitarian commitment to elimination of bondage, Cortina interprets, with a Kantian twist, both national and global citizenship: “A citizen is one who is his own master (su propio señor) together with his equals in the heart [seno] of the city.”21 Such a view nicely articulates Sen’s view of agency‐oriented development, expressed in the following passage: “Expansion of freedom is viewed, in this approach, both as the primary end and the principal means of development. Development consists of the removal of various types of unfreedoms that leave people with little choice and little opportunity of exercising their reasoned agency.”22
Cortina applies her Kantian‐inspired outlook to the issue of consumption and consumer choice. Human beings, both as individuals and in groups, can and should exercise their freedom in deciding whether to consume, what to consume, and how much to consume. In each case, an important and sometimes overriding consideration will concern the extent to which the consumption choice expresses and promotes individual and collective autonomy. Morally responsible agents should take non‐agency considerations into account, such as their duties to the well‐being of others, and this point implies that the strengthening of Sen’s capability approach need not go so far as asserting the normative priority of agency over well‐being. Ironically, an absolute and normative priority of agency over well‐being would limit individual and collective agency, for absolutizing agency would prevent choosing well‐being instead of agency (or sacrificing short‐term agency for long‐term agency).
Cortina seeks to strengthen the capability approach in a second way. She does so by defending an account of individual and social responsibilities. What explicitly moral or ethical responsibilities do individuals have in their personal consumption choices? And what responsibilities do groups of individuals and governments have and how should they exercise their moral freedom or agency in exercising their responsibilities? As we shall see, even the process by which an individual decides on her own major consumption choices is a social process that should involve concern for and, in at least some cases, deliberation with others.
One general criticism of Sen’s capability approach has been that it provides little, if any, account of moral responsibility. It is true that until recently Sen has largely neglected this aspect of ethics. Some materials for an account of obligation certainly exist in Sen’s writings, and he himself is beginning to make use of them.23 One way he does so is to connect widely valued capabilities and functionings to the concept of human or moral rights, which he in turn conceives of as tools to protect and promote those capabilities and functionings that people have reason to value.24 We have good reason to value being alive and having the freedom to live a long life; and, hence, it is important to affirm that we and others have a moral and legal right to life.25 We have good reason to value running our own lives, and thus we and others have a moral right not to be enslaved. In turn, the human right to life, to other well‐being functionings and freedoms, and to agency are the bases for affirming that other individuals and societies have duties to respect those rights. The rich have a duty to feed the starving as well as the duty not to kill. Moreover, our own moral freedom or agency is presupposed when we decide on and accept certain commitments and responsibilities (for ourselves and others):
An approach to justice and development that concentrates on substantive freedoms inescapably focuses on the agency and judgment of individuals; they cannot be seen merely as patients to whom benefits will be dispensed by the process of development. Responsible adults must be in charge of their own well‐being; it is for them to decide how to use their capabilities. But the capabilities that a person does actually have (and not merely theoretically enjoys) depend on the nature of social arrangements, which can be crucial for individual freedoms. And there the state and the society cannot escape responsibility.26
Although he has begun to tackle the issue of individual and societal responsibilities, Sen himself has not set forth a theory of moral obligation, analogous to that, say, of philosophers Henry Shue27 or James W. Nickel,28 nor has he directly or explicitly taken up the issue of consumer responsibilities.29 And the prudential account, as we have seen, intentionally defers or brackets the issue of our responsibilities to others when we make consumption choices. An account that attends only to the individual’s own well‐being, as I developed in my earlier essay on consumption, although important, is incomplete precisely because it declines to advance beyond self‐interest, even enlightened self‐interest, to consider what individuals owe to others and what groups owe to others.
To strengthen and apply our agency‐focused capability approach, I turn now to Cortina’s account of, on the one hand, consumer responsibilities and rights and, on the other hand, societal and state responsibilities. With respect to what we buy and either use or give to others, what are our responsibilities and our rights? What does it mean to engage in morally responsible consumption? What sorts of consumption choices are morally permissible and impermissible? What sorts, if any, are morally obligatory? What duties do governments and other groups have with respect to consumption choices and practices?
Cortina does not prescribe to consumers a “thick” or detailed conception of the good, one to which everyone’s consumption choices should conform. Rather, she proposes a conception of consumption that is right and just regardless of one’s conception of the good life – regardless, for example, of whether religion, art, science, business, sports, or leisure is at the top of one’s hierarchy of valued activities. Responsible consumption, for Cortina, is consumption that is autonomous, just, co‐responsible, and happiness‐generating. Let us examine each feature in turn. These norms provide at least criteria for what is permissible and impermissible. It is not so clear whether or when they also enjoin positive obligations.
Autonomous consumption
The autonomous consumer, contends Cortina, “takes the reins” (toma las riendas)30 of his or her own consumption. It is a nice metaphor, for it captures the important idea that I (rather than other people) should take the reins of my own consumption mount. I should be in control rather than being dragged around by my possessions or my consumer passions. The metaphors of “taking the reins,” like that of “taking charge” and “being the author of one’s own life,” are suggestive. What, more precisely, does Cortina mean by autonomy (and its opposite)?
For Cortina, autonomous consumption contrasts most obviously and correctly with addictive buying or consuming. In addictive consuming I cannot live without this drug, this alcoholic beverage, this medicine. I can’t stop buying (begging, borrowing, or stealing) and consuming the commodity to which I am addicted. Rather than being in charge of my life, I have lost control. I succumb to physical “cravings” or “drives,” to various “pushes” and “pulls.” I may realize gradually, in spite of my attempts to rationalize and deceive myself, that I do have a consumer addiction. In this circumstance, I may still have sufficient autonomy to figure out a way to free myself from my addictive behavior. For instance, I may make it inconvenient or difficult for me to enter a situation of temptation, or I may seek professional help, play some other passion off against my entrenched consumer passions,31 or, more generally, find some modern equivalent to Ulysses’ ordering his sailors to forcibly restrain him from answering the sirens’ calls.
These cases are fairly easy ones for the principle of autonomous consumption. We have an obligation, presumably a moral obligation to ourselves as agents, both to refrain from those consumption choices that result in addiction and to develop, perhaps through other consumption choices, the skills, habits, and moral strength to regain or protect our inner control.
Where does Cortina stand in relation to cases in which we make consumer choices in the context of current advertising and fashionable consumer practices, especially when the latter are displayed by individuals whom we admire or envy, or with whom we want to keep up? What does the norm of autonomous consumption prescribe with respect to consumption practices that are mildly addictive or what philosopher Bradford S. Hadaway calls “grooves of habituated behavior” that seem to bypass if not override our autonomy? Is there anything that can be done to strengthen or restore autonomous consumption when our lapses are less than addiction? How might we recognize less than fully autonomous conduct? And how strong is the duty to refrain from or protect against non‐autonomous consumer conduct?
Cortina establishes the parameters to answer this question, but leaves some problems unresolved. On the one hand, societal practices or conventional values and beliefs do not, at least normally, completely determine our consumption. On the other hand, we unthinkingly permit advertising, current practices and beliefs, and our consumption inclinations, habits, and passions to more or less reduce the range of our options. Advertising gives some information about options but also withholds information and often makes exaggerated or false claims. I am not forced or mechanically determined to buy certain clothes, but if I want to appear in public without shame I am limited in what I can choose to wear. I am not fatalistically driven to participate in the orgy of holiday buying, giving, and receiving, but holiday gift exchange does seem to constrain autonomy as well as give opportunity to express love and friendship. Many of my consumption choices are more a matter of unthinking habit than of any autonomous choice.
Cortina’s basic strategy in relation to these sorts of non‐autonomous consumption is to identify various ways in which individual consumers can gain fuller information about product features, the norms that are influencing them, and the likely consequences of continuing current and habitual consumer practices. Then, armed with this information, we are able to take the reins of our personal consumption rather than make uninformed decisions or ones unknowingly influenced by unconscious motives or habitual practices. We have a duty to protect and enhance our own autonomy by investigating our customary motives as well as the features and likely affects of using different products:
The consumer . . . is not sovereign, but in principle has the possibility of being “autonomous,” that is, of taking the reins of his consumption, which requires that he becomes aware of personal motivations, societal beliefs, and societal myths; knows how to decode advertising; discovers assumptions from his earliest socialization; is familiar with different styles of life capable of conferring a dignified social identity; and, is aware of the impact of his consumption choices on his own life and on the lives of other human beings.32
Enhanced information and self‐awareness certainly contribute to our exercising our duty to be or become autonomous consumers. Some unanswered questions, however, remain. Do not habitual consumers need more than enlightenment about commodities and their motives? Could a consumer aspiring to more autonomy in fact weaken her agency by spending excessive time studying Consumer Reports and shopping “comparatively?” Should not ways be found, often with the aid of others, to strengthen one’s agency freedom to resist consumer temptation? One approach to gaining such moral strength would be to resolve to deepen one’s commitment to the norm of just consumption, to which I now turn.
Just consumption
For Cortina, responsible consumption is just as well as autonomous.33 Cortina’s ethic is an ethic of responsibility that sets forth imperatives in relation to the effects our consumption choices are likely to have on others. As we have seen, her criticism of a prudential approach to consumption is that it fails to consider others at all or does so only insofar as consumption by others impacts our own consumer choices and redounds to our own benefit or harm. For Cortina, in contrast, we have, in our consumer choices, direct and significant duties to other people, our institutions, and the environment. Just consumption choices assume the equal dignity of all human beings, present and future, and seek to take as many as possible into account.34 We are morally responsible not merely for our own well‐being and our own autonomous consumption, for justice requires that we and our society be responsible – in our consumption and other choices – for the autonomy and well‐being of others as well.
This ethic of just consumption has relevance for public policy as well as for personal conduct. A just society, in its consumption policies as well as in other ways, is one that promotes the autonomy and well‐being of its citizens and protects them from domination by others and other forms of deprivation. In addition to being imprudent, the veteran drug user is egregiously irresponsible when he consumes cocaine in the presence of impressionable and admiring youths. The drug consumer, like the drug dealer who gives an adolescent his first hits, is violating a moral duty not to harm. This duty to others is also dramatically illustrated by our responsibility not to feed another’s addiction or lead the reforming addict “into temptation.”
Our positive duty to help can take diverse forms. We contribute to agencies that help addicts recover. As citizens, acting through both consumer associations, such as Consumers Union, different levels of governments, and the media, we improve and disseminate unbiased information about options for consumer choice and ways of protecting autonomy in the face of consumer habits. For example, citizen action can result in legislation that requires drug companies to reveal the ingredients and dangers of various medications. Investigative reporters disseminate concerns of researchers and government agencies that a given medication has unforeseen and negative side‐effects.35 Government agencies, such as the US Food and Drug Administration, test products, such as medications, both before and after they are released on the market. As a result, unsafe products may never make it to the marketplace or may be recalled on the basis of consumer complaints and further testing. Consumer associations exercise citizen responsibility when they test and rate products and scrutinize advertising claims, thereby reducing the dangers of manipulative or deceptive advertising. Citizens increasingly discharge their consumer responsibilities by using the internet to evaluate and rate such goods and services as electronic equipment, books, restaurants, hotels.36 Parents, friends, and social critics have the duty – at least through dialogue and possible interventions – to get others and themselves to better understand and be in control of their consumption motives. Again, however, it would be appropriate if Cortina paid more attention to ways in which citizens might increase their moral strength in promoting or protecting their own just consumption as well as that of others.
Do citizens, acting through their governments, have the right and duty either to prohibit the production, sale, or consumption of certain goods and services or to regulate them on such grounds as the age of the consumer or the frequency and amount of use? Although Cortina addresses this important topic only in passing, her basic idea is that a democratic community has the responsibility to deliberate and decide on what production, sale, and consumption is to be permissible, what is to be regulated, and what is to be prohibited altogether. Autonomy‐promoting regulation and prohibition would take into account the risks of various consumption choices with respect to irreversibly weakening autonomy or subverting it altogether. The sale and purchase of strongly and irreversibly addictive substances, at least, should be strongly regulated (especially to minors), if not prohibited.37 The sale and purchase of slaves, including child prostitutes, should be prohibited altogether as incompatible with human autonomy and dignity.
From cases such as these, Cortina formulates a general and negative norm for just consumption: “Any form of consumption is unjust that does not promote equal development of people’s basic capabilities.”38 What does she mean? That “basic” qualifies “capabilities” alerts us to the fact that Cortina is not proposing a strict egalitarianism in which the state should ensure that everyone has exactly the same level of all capabilities. Not only would the implementation of this policy be inordinately expensive, but it would unjustly restrict the freedom of many to consume above the required line. To have one’s basic capabilities guaranteed is to have a secured threshold or adequate amount of the most important freedoms or opportunities. What we buy from or give to others as well as what the government (or some non‐state group) guarantees to others by way of in‐kind goods or income – these commodities should promote such capabilities as being able to live a reasonably long, decently healthy, and adequately fed life in contrast to a life in which one has no choice but to die young or be ill‐fed, ill‐clothed, and chronically sick. An example would be governmentally supplied or subsidized malaria‐preventing mosquito nets. To promote these opportunities is to offer them, protect them once obtained, and restore them if lost. The concept of “basicness” has to do with the individually and socially relative amount of commodities needed to realize an adequate level of the valued capabilities. And individuals and democratic communities may judge the acceptable threshold of valued capabilities on the basis, among other things, of whether or not citizens are thereby enabled to be at or over a minimum of political power. Why is having the apparel to appear in public without shame important? One reason is that such a capability enables people, if they so choose, to be and act as citizens. In Chapter 9 I return to this issue and in Chapter 10 I defend against objections to this equal‐opportunity egalitarianism.
On this view, the amount and kind of food or basic income to be provided to citizens of one’s own or other countries (world citizens) varies in relation to what capabilities would be chosen by them as needed in order to be authors of their own lives both individually and collectively. Commodities are instrumentally important as means to capabilities that people choose. Capabilities are both important in themselves and a platform not only for choosing one’s own style of life but also for participating in public debate about consumption norms and other matters.
What sort of goods and services, by way of illustration, do people need in order to be citizens? At this point Cortina seeks to apply – as a test for consumption choices – her notion of equality of basic capabilities and autonomy by employing several versions of a Kantian principle of universalizability.39 Although I cannot address the question further, some of these versions seem to be less an application of Kant’s distinctive nonconsequentialist ethic and more an effort to fuse a commitment to universality (not making an exception for yourself) with an ethic of responsibility (for consequences).
The first version of universalizability that Cortina employs is that citizens should consume in such a way that if everyone performed the same action the result would not destroy or risk destroying nature, for such destruction would end (human) life – and the pursuit of all human purposes – as such.40 This formulation explicitly refers to the consequences likely if everyone made the same consumption choices. If everyone in the world owned and drove a car, would the emissions connected with petroleum consumption doom nature and humankind? Kant himself arguably would not examine practical consequences but rather would ask if there were something logically self‐defeating or incomprehensible about universalizing the “maxim” of one’s consumption choice.
Second, Cortina formulates a consumption‐relevant principle of universalizability in a way that affirms equal freedom (of capabilities and autonomy): “consume in such a way that you always, and at the same time, respect and promote the freedom of all humanity, yourself as well as others.”41 A practical implication of the second formulation is that when I make a consumption choice, I should not exempt myself from moral obligations I insist apply to others. For example, it is morally impermissible for me to insist that everyone have a car that gets 40 miles per gallon but permissible to make an exception for myself and own an SUV that gets only 8 miles per gallon. My agency and capability freedoms are important, but no more so (and no less so) than those of others.
Applied to consumption choices, many consumption decisions would be blocked if the agent took into account their likely effects on the autonomy and well‐being of all those affected and not, as does the prudential account, merely on oneself. Individually and collectively reducing consumption levels in the USA and other affluent countries, especially in relation to luxury goods, would free up resources and time that could be used to protect and promote basic capabilities and agency in poor countries. Buying and giving simulated rather than real gold earrings would lessen both environmental damage and labor exploitation caused by gold‐mining operations.42 Buying “fair trade” coffee, which benefits a worker‐owned, democratically managed coffee cooperative in Costa Rica, is clearly better than buying coffee from a company with notorious labor and environmental practices.
Cortina applies a third formulation of Kantian universalizability, the “Kingdom of Ends” formula, to consumption norms and choices: “Take upon yourself (asume), together with others, the norms of a consumption life style that promote your freedom and that of all persons, making possible a universal Kingdom of Ends.”43 In explaining this rather abstract and austere “test” for consumption choices and norms, Cortina explains that those that inhabit this kingdom are precisely beings of intrinsic worth, ends‐in‐themselves, who can decide for themselves to transcend their own self‐interest and respect the autonomy of others. To live in this kingdom is to choose to consume in ways that “respect each and every human being as ends‐in‐themselves,” that “promote each person’s liberty and projects for a happy life,” and that “never interfere with other human beings.”44 The commodities I choose should serve human freedom, both mine and that of others. By “freedom” (libertad) here Cortina means – as does Sen with his concept of “agency” – the intrinsically good capability to decide for oneself (autonomy) and, especially, to choose one’s own style of life (self‐realization). To live in this Kingdom of Ends (with other beings who are also ends‐in‐themselves) also means that my choices must be compatible with the free choices of others.
In this third formulation, Cortina also emphasizes that what should be sustainable and universalizable are not isolated actions but entire forms of life and the norms informing them. It is not enough that family members diligently recycle bottles, cans, and newspapers and yet each drive a car, especially one that is fuel‐inefficient. Taking account of those in poor countries as equal citizens in the Kingdom of Ends, Cortina applies the principle to automobiles:
For just consumption, then, it is important to emphasize sustainable, adoptable, and universalizable styles of life rather than isolated norms. The principle of “one car per person” is unjust because it destroys nature and is then a positional good, a good that one cannot universalize because it results in a zero‐sum game, that is, one in which if some have the good then others cannot have it. The solution is not to get rid of cars altogether but to reduce consumption of cars in rich countries and elevate it in poor countries. To do so requires that rich countries come up with forms of life that may be extended [to other countries].45
By “reducing the consumption of cars in rich countries,” Cortina appears to mean both “fewer cars” and “more efficient cars.” In urging that the consumption of cars be increased in poor countries, she recommends “more cars.” She also believes that rich countries should improve auto gasoline efficiency and devise other vehicle energy sources (ethanol and electricity) not only because of the directly beneficial environmental impact but also because rich country breakthoughs in auto energy efficiency and alternative modes of transportation might be replicable in poor countries.
Cortina’s proposal seems eminently reasonable, but on closer inspection it is not clear how to put it into practice. On one application of her third universalizability test, I should choose what sort of car to own (or some alternative mode of transportation) in relation to the predicted consequence of everyone doing likewise. The stock criticism of Kantian universalizability is that the moral force of the imperative depends on how one describes the choice situation. Does the description take into account that both my wife and I live close enough to our jobs to walk or bike? Does it take into account that public transportation is some distance away and does not always go where we want to go? Even if this problem can be resolved, there exists the problem of either judging the self‐defeating character or forecasting the negative results of everyone in the world making the same consumption choice.
Cortina, we have seen, briefly examines several options with respect to the universalizability of buying and using a car. Given that autos (and their production) use up both renewable and nonrenewable natural resources, produce emissions that befoul the air, contribute to global warming, and eventuate in wrecked and worn‐out cars, the options in car purchasing seem to include at least the following:
(1) My wife and I should walk and ride bicycles instead of driving cars, and so should anyone else (in reasonably good health) in the world. Here we would change our consumption to match that of many poor people in the developing world.46
(2) My wife and I should give up one (or both) of our two cars and only own a car that is small, light, and either petroleum efficient or powered by alternative energy. All families in the world should have the same sort of car, which would result, by some yet to be specified mechanism, in many poor families getting a car for the first time but result, unless new technologies save the day, in a large increase in fuel consumption and pollution.47
(3) My wife and I should keep our two cars, even those that are large, heavy, guzzle gas, and burn oil, and every family in the world should (have the freedom to) have the same sort of car.
Employing her Kantian tests, Cortina clearly and rightly rules out (3): “the earth does not have sufficient resources to universalize the model of the American Dream.”48 And, we have responsibilities to future generations, responsibilities that (3) completely ignores. Cortina seems, however, undecided between (1) and (2) and does not consider the possible variations or combinations of these two. She recommends more cars in poor countries and fewer (inefficient) cars in rich countries, but she also challenges rich countries to invent more environmentally friendly modes of transportation. Overcoming this vacillation would seem to depend on our knowing the extent to which each of the three choices (and their variations and combinations) exhausts limited environmental goods and inflicts environmental damage and, therefore, damage (the loss of capability and agency) to present and future persons. Yet to know what these impacts would be requires knowing what new or substitute resources might be found or invented, and what technological breakthroughs might occur to make cars less environmentally harmful, enable societies to dispose of them and clean up their messes more efficiently, and devise more environmentally sustainable modes of transportation. And of course the choice of each of the three options would have to take into account the various benefits and other costs – for oneself and others – that result from each option. Maybe the best scientific predictions about likely future environmental risks enable us to rule out some extreme options (a fleet of SUVs per family) and even some currently acceptable options (typical American autos). We do not seem to have, however, the crystal ball we would need to have reasonable beliefs about if and when our consumption choices, if universalized, would result in surpassing the earth’s carrying capacity or unfairly reducing others’ freedom.
Several ways exist to respond to the crystal ball problem. One would be to return to the Kantian tradition and adopt an interpretation of Kant’s ethics that depended not on forecasts of the future but rather on showing the logically self‐defeating character of some choices. The choice of renting a stretch limousine made by Sherman McCoy (a character in Tom Wolfe’s The Bonfire of the Vanities) would be ruled out because everyone’s making the same choice would defeat his goal of distinguishing himself. A second way to respond to future uncertainty, given what we reliably know now, is to employ some sort of presumptive precautionary principle.49 A third way, not necessarily at odds with the second, is to invoke democratic procedures. Cortina’s third consumption norm, co‐responsibility, provides exactly this assistance. Democratic bodies on all levels can and should grapple with how best to universalize in our current contexts.
Co‐responsible consumption
Consumption that is fully justified, contends Cortina, is co‐responsible (corresponsable) or “expressive of solidarity” (solidario) as well as autonomous and just.50 On the surface this norm seems merely to repeat that all humans, at least those with the actual capacity, have the responsibility not to make non‐autonomous or unjust consumption choices and help others to so refrain. (As I shall point out later, it is less clear if Cortina’s norms prescribe other positive duties.) More, much more, is involved, however, and this norm brings us to the heart of Cortina’s dialogical and deliberative ethic of consumption. Although very general, the norm of co‐responsible consumption has relevance for both individual and collective consumption.
With respect to my individual consumer choices, I – as a national and world citizen – have an obligation to enter into dialogue with others. I have the duty to do so not only to help me determine which consumption choice is best for me but also which would best fulfill the norms of autonomous and just consumption. I may be short‐sighted or blind on all counts and you, my friend, trusted salesperson, consumer reporter, may supply crucial information or help me reprioritize my values. The decision is up to me, but thanks to you – the information or ethical challenge you supply – I buy soccer shoes that the manufacturer and supplier certify have not been made in sweatshops or by child labor. Often the advice we receive differs, and we must weigh it and decide. It remains prudent as well as morally responsible to weigh the pros and cons with others, including the experts (if there are any). We are most likely to arrive at an ethically correct result when our interactions with others involve reason‐giving and critical deliberation.
With respect to collective choices on the desirability of certain goods and services, democratic bodies on all levels have the responsibility to decide when to intervene with market “forces” to encourage or discourage (through tax incentives), regulate, or prohibit the buying and selling of certain goods and services.51 Citizens have the right and duty to (help) make decisions on matters that affect them. Presumably, one exercises this right through such means as dialogue with political representatives and the activities of consumer organizations that gather information, evaluate consumer practices, and promote certain consumer policies in public discussion.
Furthermore, co‐responsible consumers not only individually and collectively take into account the impact of their consumption choices and practices on other people as well as on themselves; they also work to “empower” those affected to make their interests and concerns known. If democratic decision‐making is to be just, it must be inclusive, which requires that those without a “voice” be regularly part of democratic deliberation and have an influence on collective decision and action. Having a place at the democratic table, however, while necessary, is not sufficient if those participants in democratic deliberation are unable to deliberate as equals. They may lack deliberative skills or sufficient economic well‐being to have the time and energy to participate. Hence, co‐responsible consumers seek to enact educational and economic policies that promote the deliberative participation and influence of those most adversely affected by typical consumer – and production – practices:
It is a moral obligation, an indispensable ethical presupposition for any meaningful dialogue concerning the justice of forms of consumption, to empower those affected, to promote those basic capabilities that permit them to be real interlocutors in a dialogue about that which affects them . . . Unless the participants in the dialogue have participatory skills and stand as much as possible in relations of symmetry [of power], no expert is able to say what form of consumption is just.52
This responsibility to empower all those affected extends not only to others in one’s own nation but also to citizens of other countries. Good development practices empower those in other countries, especially those affected by the consumption practices of Northern consumers, to tell their story and have their say in various national and global forums.53
It is in democratic deliberation on local, national, and global levels, with inclusive and empowered participation of all affected, that co‐responsible consumers can and should decide about which types of consumption choices should count as autonomous and just. It is not that everybody always decides about everything in some big (virtual) global encounter, but that democratic bodies on different levels take into account in their deliberations the decisions of other bodies. The weaknesses we found in other versions of universalization may be overcome by the deliberative version with which Cortina concludes her discussion: “Adopt (asume), together with others, styles of life that promote the capability of people to defend dialogically their interests, do not endanger the sustainability of nature, and promote associations and institutions that labor in this direction.”54
Happiness‐generating consumption
The fourth and final aspect of Cortina’s norm for ethically justified consumption is that such consumption should make the consumer happy.55 What, however, is happiness and why is it important?
Cortina seems to employ two different concepts of happiness, and each contributes to her evaluation of consumption choices. First, she accepts and affirms a conventional notion of happiness – as experienced “satisfaction” with the way things are going – and then argues that above a certain level, consumption is a poor source of happiness.56 This notion is the one that social scientists, such as Robert Lane, and economists of happiness, such as Richard Easterlin, Robert H. Frank, and Carol Graham, among others, employ in their research.57 On this view, happiness or, better, “satisfaction” or “subjective well‐being” is what people report on questionnaires and interviews when asked how happy or satisfied they are with the way their lives are going. Here (reported) satisfaction contrasts with (reported) depression or frustration.
Given this everyday (and social scientific) meaning of happiness, Cortina sees her job as ethicist as that of drawing on scientific research and driving home the claim that above a certain level of consumption, no link exists between such things as social success and consumer goods, on the one hand, and personal satisfaction, on the other. Even more, she cites available evidence (which has increased since she wrote her book) that what brings people satisfaction, joy, or pleasure in life is not having more or better consumer goods but better friendships, marriages, working relationships, and leisure time.58 Although shopping for, owning, and consuming goods sometimes can be “fun,” the empirical evidence is that whatever enjoyment these activities bring is transitory and frequently is accompanied by or quickly results in dissatisfaction when one realizes that there is far more to be had or that someone else is more successful. In particular, Cortina appeals to Juliet Schor’s finding that many Americans report that they are trapped in a frustrating circle of “work‐spend‐consumption‐credit.”59 To break out of this “squirrel cage”60 of perpetually unsatisfied consumer desires, Cortina takes up Schor’s recommendations of ways to “downshift.”61 However, Cortina wisely recognizes, as does Jerome M. Segal, that it is much easier for the upper‐middle‐class professional to answer the call for a “simple life” than it is for someone with few resources and threatened by the lack of a reliable living wage.62
Cortina recognizes one complication in strategies based on this first conception of happiness. Recognizing that satisfaction is one humanly important value, she is sympathetic with Luis Camacho’s point that the North might learn much from “the millions of poor people [who] live at very low levels of consumption” and yet still find “laughter and joy”63 in their lives. Yet, she rightly worries that such a point might be used to undermine efforts to reduce poverty, especially in the South. She would agree with Sen about the value of happiness even (or especially) when it is experienced by a deprived and hopeless person upon receiving an alm or other “small mercy.” But, like Sen, she worries that this happiness may hide from consumers and governments alike the lucky recipient’s deprivations, such as poor health and domination by others. Additionally, the happiness brought by the small mercy may cause the rich to ignore the poor and occasion the poor passively to accept their lot.
The second concept of happiness that Cortina employs is happiness not as experienced satisfaction or a mental state of pleasure but as an Aristotelian combination of good character and good luck. The Greek word for happiness, eudaimonia, observes Cortina, literally means good daimōn or good character.64 Good character, says Cortina, consists most importantly of two virtues: lucidity and practical wisdom or good sense (cordura). The lucid consumer is aware of her consumer habits and motives, especially ones that tend to be obsessive or addictive. Such awareness may help the consumer – often with the assistance of others – to reduce or outwit the power of these motives. For example, the lucid “consumer” of the sport of soccer recognizes that no spectator will see the soccer field any better if all stand up at their seats and that there needs to be some arrangement – more effective than shouts of “Down in front!” – to get everyone to remain seated.65 Lucidity also enables the consumer to evaluate the claims of advertising and assess relevant commodities and the consequences of their consumption. Finally, lucidity about causal chains enables the responsible consumer to develop reasonable beliefs about which consumption choices clearly benefit needy producers, especially in poor countries, and which ones clearly lower their chances to live a decent life.
In addition to lucidity, Cortina convincingly extols the human excellence of what she calls cordura. More than prudence with its exclusive focus, direct or indirect, on self‐interest, cordura is that kind of wise self‐control that retains prudence’s middle way between excess and defect but extends moderation to get the proper balance, on the one hand, between one’s own well‐being and that of others, and, on the other, between human appropriation and conservation of nature’s bounty. Cortina gives the example of choosing goods that are durable, energy efficient, and easily reparable. Consistent with her consumer ethic would be purchasing from companies that lead their industries in socially responsible business practices.
A combination of lucidity and ethically infused practical wisdom would result in the reform of consumption practices. With respect to holiday gift‐giving, an extended family might adopt a variant of the common university departmental practice of each member drawing a name and giving a Christmas gift only to that one colleague. Rather than giving Christmas gifts to every family member, an extended family might decide – through democratic deliberation, of course – that each nuclear family would give gifts to three members of other family units, whose names they had drawn, from among these units. In the interest of greater austerity, a spending cap might be put on all gifts. In the interest of filial piety, grandparents might be permitted to go beyond their allotments and give gifts to all their grandchildren. A more radical reform would be – in the name of the family member – to purchase a cow for a poor farm family in a developing country, or giving a portion or even the entirety of the family’s holiday gift budget to a charity.
Extended to the whole society, it would be wise to follow Frank’s recommendation and have high taxes on luxury items such as McMansions, luxury cars, and elegant clothing.66 The standard for social success would be lowered for everyone, and the money saved could be spent on goods, such as Cortina’s book on consumption, and services more conducive to the well‐being and autonomy of all. If the tax monies were earmarked for environmental clean‐up and aid to poor communities at home and abroad, we would display the many facets of cordura.
How adequate is Cortina’s conception of consumer good character or virtue? Both lucidity and a golden‐mean‐informed practical reason are compelling candidates for any such ideal. I would suggest that she supplement her list, however, with an additional virtue, namely, what philosopher Bradford Hadaway calls “moral strength” or “successful self‐governance.”67 Not only do responsible consumers require insight into the causes and consequences of various consumption choices and an ability to find a middle way between excess and deficit and between self‐regarding and other regarding choices. Ethically responsible consumers also require the ability and courage to extirpate their addictions, weaken encrusted consumer habits, and resist advertising’s allure. If we are to be or become agents, authors of our own life, we must control our own motivational life by finding, in Hadaway’s felicitous phrases, “bulwarks against” and “tools to uproot” those compulsions and inclinations that undermine our agency. One way to do so is to (re)commit ourselves to the ideal of equal agency and, thereby, respect ourselves as well as others.
Although she does not do so, we can bring together Cortina’s two senses of happiness, namely, satisfaction and good character. When citizens are lucid, wise, and (I would add) morally strong in their lives as autonomous, just, and co‐responsible consumers, they are also likely – with luck – to experience the satisfaction that comes from doing the right thing.
Cortina culminates and weaves together the threads of her ethics of consumption with Part V, entitled “Being a Citizen in a Global World” and consisting of two chapters, “The Citizenship of the Consumer” and “Cosmopolitan Economic Citizenship.”68 Her work on the ethics of citizenship, one of the most novel and important aspects of Cortina’s ethics and political philosophy, has great relevance for international development ethics.69 It is beyond the scope of this chapter to take up her notion in detail, but I would leave her consumption ethic incompletely analyzed if I failed to mention some salient points.
First, human beings are citizens as well as consumers. Moreover, these are not two separate spheres of human life but instead are roles that do and should intertwine. To be a citizen is to be one’s own master – together with one’s equals (other citizens) – in making basic decisions with respect to life together in community. Whatever persons are affected by the community, even those who are members of other communities, have some kind or level of citizenship rights and duties in that community. The community can be as narrow as the family or neighborhood and as broad as the global community. For instance, even (or especially) people in Iraq, because they are so deeply affected by US policy, would be moral citizens – in contrast to legal citizens – of the United States.
Second, Cortina contends that consumer‐citizens, whether locally, nationally, or globally, have both rights and duties with respect to consumption. The most general right (and duty) is that of publicly deliberating and helping decide consumption policies. Communities at every level face the question of what consumer goods to produce and make available, and those affected by these policies have the moral right to have a say in the making of policies that encourage, permit, regulate, or prohibit the sale and use of specific consumer goods. A globalized world economy makes available both unsafe and safe food, gold jewelry from both environmentally irresponsible and responsible mines, costly as well as cheap HIV‐AIDS medication, regulated and unregulated armaments, coerced and non‐coerced sex workers. Citizen‐consumers have the right (and duty) to influence consumption policies with respect to these and many other goods.
Cortina also proposes more specific consumer rights, ones that she finds nicely articulated in John F. Kennedy’s 1962 Consumer Bill of Rights.70 These include: (1) the right to be protected from unsafe goods, such as spoiled food and cars that explode after rear‐end collisions; (2) the right to information about a commodity’s proper usage, risks, and benefits; (3) the right to have consumer options rather than one choice or no choice at all; (4) the right to be heard by, on the one hand, those who produce goods, and, on the other hand, those who make and enforce laws. We would also add two consumer rights that Cortina does not mention in this context but are implied by her book, and in any case connect to consumer duties, to be presently discussed. Consumer‐citizens have the right – within limits constrained by their resources and duties to others – to buy and use what they want and live their own conceptions of the good life.71 They also have the right to a certain level of goods and services so as to be able to exercise their duties as citizens.
Citizen‐consumers, contends Cortina, have responsibilities as well as rights. Each should take responsibility for her own consumption decisions, refraining from consumption choices that are not autonomous, just, co‐responsible and happiness‐producing, and pursuing consumption choices that fulfill or, at least, do not violate the four criteria. Each citizen is also responsible for influencing community consumption policies. Accordingly citizens should join with other citizens in public discussion, form consumer groups, and establish other channels to influence public consumption policy. How and why might consumers be motivated to shoulder these – often demanding – consumer responsibilities? Although we can do no more than touch upon this important topic, Cortina bites the bullet (as I did above in advocating the virtue of moral strength and the importance of a commitment to agency) and declares that “ethical conviction is the best motor: consumer groups become aware that they are citizens and they ought to try to change, both personally and institutionally, forms of consumption for the sake of reasons of justice and happiness.”72 Although she does not reject arguments, such as those of Frank, that changing our levels and types of consumption would make us happier, she puts more weight on reconstructing our notion of happiness to include concern for others (as well as ourselves) and finally appeals to our commitments to justice.
Governments and other institutions on all levels, including global institutions, also have responsibilities. However important are individual and group consumer responsibilities, governments and society have responsibilities too. Poorer and richer countries alike, the former with the right kind of help from the latter, are responsible to be sure that all those affected by their policies have real opportunities to be responsible themselves. Such responsibility, including consumer responsibility, requires that all people be able to lead decent lives, and, thereby, be active citizens. The kinds and levels of goods and services will vary from place to place and time to time. Governments, however, are co‐responsible to ensure that everyone is empowered to have a minimum level of capability and roughly equal agency. Although the following passage from Sen’s Development as Freedom does not occur in a context in which Sen addresses consumption policy, it is relevant for the consumption responsibilities that Cortina advocates:
The substantive freedoms that we respectively enjoy to exercise our responsibilities are extremely contingent on personal, social, and environmental circumstances. A child who is denied the opportunity of elementary schooling is not only deprived as a youngster, but also handicapped all through life (as a person unable to do certain basic things that rely on reading, writing and arithmetic). The adult who lacks the means of having medical treatment for an ailment from which she suffers is not only prey to preventable morbidity and possibly escapable mortality, but may also be denied the freedom to do various things – for herself and others – that she may wish to do as a responsible human being. The bonded laborer born into semislavery, the subjugated girl child stifled by a repressive society, the helpless landless laborer without substantial means of earning an income are all deprived not only in terms of well‐being, but also in terms of the ability to lead responsible lives, which are contingent on having certain basic freedoms. Responsibility requires freedom.73
Governments of developing countries share responsibility in assuring that their people have basic capabilities and agency. Rich countries, however, not only have a “backup” co‐responsibility when a poor country is unable to deliver the goods and assure basic capabilities. Developed countries and societies also are obligated to alter their own consumer practices insofar as they have negative effects on the developing world, including the frustrating “demonstration effect” of luxury consumption. Such governmental (and other institutional) responsibility does not entail that either Sen or Cortina is advocating a “nanny” or paternalistic state. Rather they both urge that we understand that responsible consumption can occur only when states and institutions at all levels create “more opportunity for choice and for substantive decisions for individuals who can then act responsibly on that basis.”74
Cortina concludes by suggesting additional means – beyond a change in values and the right sort of development assistance – that enable governments and other institutions to exercise their responsibilities. Among them are (1) the transfer of technology that is appropriate and does not cause dependency on the donor; (2) the elimination of trade protectionism that prevents Southern producers from competing with heavily subsidized Northern producers;75 and (3) the experimentation with and dissemination of styles of life, such as Segal’s “graceful simplicity,” that promise the realization of Cortina’s principles. She also urges that governments, private corporations, and international consumer and other civil society groups come together to forge a “Global Pact on Consumption” that would play a similar role in focusing global attention on the opportunities and the danger in current consumption practices that other global agreements have done with respect to production, poverty, and inequality.76 The aim is to deliberate together “to design and make operative recommendations to promote just, autonomous, and happy consumption.”77 Although Cortina does not suggest it, the deliberative process in forming such a pact would surely cover such consumption items as handguns and other armaments; addictive drugs; medicine and preventative measures for AIDS, malaria, and other diseases; sex tourism; body parts, such as kidneys; and food and water consumption – to mention only a few. What sorts of consumption should global and national bodies encourage, permit, regulate, and prohibit? And by what means? The challenge would be to find ways in which the rich nations and individuals could reduce their irresponsible consumption in ways that guarantee that poor nations and people have opportunities for well‐being and agency.
Cortina’s ethic of consumption is by and large compelling. It successfully builds on and strengthens Sen’s capability approach to development and development ethics. I have argued that Cortina’s consumption ethic can both incorporate the insights of a prudential consumption ethic and advance beyond it. Cortina gives us, among other things, a way to employ the capability approach to criticize over‐consumption as well as under‐consumption and to sketch out the consumer responsibilities of individuals, nations, and the global community.
Cortina’s consumption ethic is work in progress, and nine topics (several of which I have identified above) deserve further attention. First, more work is needed on consumption responsibilities – their source, nature, relations, and limits. What, more precisely, is the moral force of Cortina’s proposed norm prescribing autonomous, just, co‐responsible, and happiness‐generating consumption? Does Cortina intend that her four norms or four parts of one norm prescribe both negative duties (duties to refrain from action) and positive duties (duties to perform positive actions)? It seems clear that it is morally impermissible for me to buy and consume what violates any of the four norms; for instance, what undermines my autonomy or that of others. Is it also morally required and not merely praiseworthy for me to consume in such a way that I promote consumption that fulfills or promotes the four norms? If Cortina accepts that her norm implies both negative and positive duties, what is her view on the relative weight of the negative and positive duties? If I fulfill my negative duties and refrain from norm‐violating consumption, how strong is the additional demand to perform positive acts of autonomous, just, co‐responsible, and happiness‐producing consumption? Am I doing just as much moral wrong when I fail to help (promote responsible consumption) as I do when I hurt (indulge in irresponsible consumption). For instance, is my duty not to snatch away life‐saving food or withdraw autonomy‐enhancing education stronger than my duty to contribute food aid to the starving and education to the ill‐informed? How much time, money, and effort should I spend in finding out the best way to exercise my positive consumption duties, especially if it takes time away from my other responsibilities? Is the answer with respect to the relative weights of negative and positive duties the same or different with respect to each of the four parts of the consumption norm? For example, in making a consumption choice is the weight of my duty to make others happy (relative to my duty not to make them unhappy) stronger or weaker than the weight of my duty to make others autonomous (relative to my duty not to make them addicted)?
Second, closely related to the question of the relative weights of negative and positive consumption duties is the question of the relative weights of the four norms themselves and what to do when the norms point in different directions. Clearly, trade‐offs may exist between consumption choices that, for example, promote agency and those that promote basic capabilities, consumer dialogue, or happiness. The gift of a computer that makes my son happy may feed his internet compulsions, harm his health, or take him away from public deliberation. Presumably, each of the four norms is not an absolute (exceptionless) norm but a rebuttable normative presumption or prima facie obligation that may be overridden by an even stronger duty in a particular situation. When the four duties do not converge on one consumption choice – and, happily, sometimes they do – are there any priority rules? And if not, how should the responsible consumer decide?
Third is the question of whether in consumption we have moral duties to ourselves as well as to other people, institutions, and the environment. It would be worth addressing whether Kant’s “formula of humanity” of the categorical imperative (“act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of another, always at the same time as an end and never simply as a means”) implies that human agents in their consumption choices have a moral obligation to develop and protect their own autonomy, basic capabilities, co‐responsibility, and happiness as well as that of other persons.78 The prudential account exclusively attends to the agent’s well‐being, but appeals to enlightened self‐interest rather than to any moral duties to himself or herself. Cortina’s ethic of consumption emphasizes our obligations to others, the environment, and institutions. A fully adequate consumption ethic is one that includes some moral responsibility for our own agency and well‐being in consuming.79 Although we too readily embrace the advertising pitch that says “you owe it to yourself” to buy X, sometimes the point indeed may apply. That we have presumptive moral obligations to ourselves would be something that Cortina’s happy/virtuous consumer might discern, especially when that virtue includes the moral strength to protect one’s autonomy from consumer passions and manipulative advertising.
A fourth issue that would benefit from more attention would be whether Cortina’s consumption ethic presupposes a moral psychology or theory of the self and, if it does, whether she should explicitly clarify and defend it. On the one hand, she seems to be assuming that human beings are more or less conditioned but not completely determined by both external and internal forces. Human beings often have some power to shape their environment and control themselves. Our consumption choices are not or do not have to be – if we take control of our lives – the mere effects of external causes and internal drives, passions, habits, and inclinations. Persons as agents can prevent impulses and inclinations from robbing them of control; they can decide on, or at least modify or lessen (or increase), the strength of their inclinations and, thereby, coordinate them.
To make sense of this power, is it necessary to move beyond metaphors, such as “taking charge,” “being one’s own boss,” and “running one’s own life,” and defend a philosophical theory of the self? And if the latter, what are the options? Must one posit a Kantian transcendental ego that operates “from above,” against, or instead of our “empirical” motivations? Or is there a way of understanding inner control without falling into a metaphysical dualism? Worth investigating here would be the resources of non‐metaphysical interpretations of Kant’s own view(s) as well as other theories of the self, such as those of Harry Frankfurt and Amartya Sen, in which agents have more or less freedom to prioritize and coordinate their various inclinations, affiliations, and roles.80
A fifth question that merits further reflection is how far governments on different levels can legitimately go in encouraging, discouraging, regulating, and prohibiting different forms of consumption. Like Sen, Cortina is concerned both to protect and promote individual freedom to choose lifestyles that people have reason to value and to protect against damage to people and the environment. More work is needed to understand how governments can achieve the right balance between these sometimes conflicting commitments. When, if at all, and why should a government prohibit certain levels or kinds of goods and services – assault rifles, cocaine, foods, medicine, pornography, cigarettes, prostitution, political lobbying, campaign contributions – from sale, purchase, or consumption? When should certain goods and services be available but governmentally regulated with respect to amount of the commodity, age of the consumer, a doctor’s authorization, and so forth? When should certain goods, such as McMansions, McYachts, and gasoline, be legally available for purchase and use but highly taxed (as an incentive to decrease consumption and dependence on, for example, Middle Eastern oil)? When, if ever, should the state require certain acts of consumption, for example vaccinations of schoolchildren or the force‐feeding of hunger strikers?
Sixth, Cortina, in addressing the impact of Northern consumption on the South, has contributed significantly to development ethics and to cross‐cultural discussions concerning responsible consumption. She recognizes and draws on debates about the shape and limits of responsible consumption that are occurring in both industrialized and developing countries throughout the world. And she appropriately worries about the demonstration effect of American consumption patterns – fuel‐inefficient cars, throwaway electronic devices, McDonalds fast food – as they spread around the globe. Although she rightly points out many cases in which Northern consumption patterns harm the developing world, she might also consider the way that Northern consumption choices either have little effect on the South or benefit the South, even (or especially) those who are most vulnerable.
Counter Culture Coffee, for example, markets “Sanctuary Shade Grown Coffee” in high‐end food markets in the USA.81 Located in North Carolina, this US company buys and roasts coffee from small Latin American producers, such as the cooperatives Cerro del Fuego in Costa Rica and Organic Cooperative of San Ramón in Matalgalpa, Nicaragua. The North Carolina Crop Improvement Association certifies that Sanctuary coffee is organic; other groups certify that it is “fair trade” and “shade grown.”82 Not only does the taste of shade‐grown coffee appeal to many coffee‐drinkers, but, claims Counter Culture Coffee, shade‐grown coffee farms along the routes of migratory songbirds “provide a safe haven for songbirds, as well as a variety of indigenous flora and fauna.” Moreover, Counter Culture Coffee donates 10 percent of the proceeds from each bag of Sanctuary Coffee to the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation (NFWF), a group that claims to support habitat conservation in Latin America and migratory bird projects in the USA.
The responsible consumer would like to have independent confirmation of Counter Culture Coffee’s claims and the reliability of the various certifying organizations.83 Yet, if the claims survive scrutiny and if the Latin American coffee‐growers include small producers, then we would have a good example of “win‐win” consumption. Although Northern consumers must pay a premium for specialty coffee, they benefit from high‐quality coffee, protect migratory songbirds, and provide earnings for small Latin American producers and protection for Latin American flora and fauna. Sometimes good things do go together, and the responsible consumer is obliged to inform herself about and contribute to this convergence.
Seventh, although consumption is important, it is not everything. Morally irresponsible consumption is not the cause of all the world’s problems, nor would morally responsible consumption in either the North or the South be their sole cure. Just as earlier investigators and pundits often mistakenly paid attention to productivity, population, environment, or ethnicity each in isolation from the others and from consumption, so there is a danger of a one‐sided focus on consumption patterns to the exclusion of other social factors and institutions. An ethics of consumption is meant to supplement and not replace such inquiries as an ethics of population, an environmental ethics, and an ethics of employment and poverty reduction. An ethics for consumption should not substitute for an ethics of aid and a consideration of the obligations of the rich to improve global justice and aid poor countries and individuals. An ethic of consumer responsibility is only one – largely neglected – part of an ethic of personal conduct and both national and global arrangements. Cortina recognizes this point, but she could do more to connect her analysis and evaluation of consumption with an analysis of national and global economic productivity, employment, and foreign aid.
Although she raises the question of whether altered Northern consumption patterns would be bad for domestic employment and poverty reduction, she needs to go more deeply into these topics. What responsibilities would national governments have if their high taxes on gasoline put domestic auto‐makers out of business and their employees out a job? Similarly, although she recognizes the positive roles that rich country foreign aid and development assistance can and should play in poor regions (my topic in the next chapter), she (and we) should address the relative impacts of even the most responsible Northern consumption, private philanthropy, and public foreign aid. Both empirical research and ethical assessment are called for to evaluate, for example, one of Katha Pollitt’s New Year’s “resolutions for liberals”:
Don’t think your lifestyle can save the world. I love slow food! I cook slow food! I shop at farmers’ markets, I pay extra for organic, I am always buying cloth bags and forgetting to bring them to the supermarket. But the world will never be saved by highly educated, privileged people making different upscale consumer choices. If you have enough money to buy grass‐fed beef or tofu prepared by Tibetan virgins, you have enough money to give more of it away to people who really need it and groups that can make real social change.84
Eighth, although she does consider consumption patterns in other times and places,85 Cortina could enrich her account considerably if she attended to current consumption debates in the developing world. What we see in many developing countries is that citizens and social critics scrutinize rich country consumption patterns and poor country emulation of these patterns.86 Sometimes American consumerist values are uncritically embraced; sometimes they are passionately rejected. Not infrequently, as Charles Mann points out, people around the world want what Americans have but they also want to be “aggressively themselves – a contradictory enterprise.”87 Most promising as a way to avoid such contradictions is the occurrence throughout the world of critical discussion, public deliberation, and social experimentation about how much is enough, what consumption is appropriate, and what are the consumer responsibilities of government and citizens alike.88 Such debate also can contribute to the process and achievement of the Global Consumption Pact that Cortina recommends.
Finally, although she affirms the importance of social dialogue and public deliberation about consumption, her work on consumption would be strengthened if she further developed her conceptions – in relation to consumption policy – of the nature, process, location, structure, and limits of democratic practices and social agency (protagonismo). Cortina clearly recognizes how important it is that public deliberation exists concerning consumption as well as production, but a clearer idea of the strengths and weaknesses of various kinds of deliberative and other sorts of democratic practices is essential. For example, I worry that her concept of citizen agency lacks sufficient balance between deliberating, making decisions, and having an influence on decisions. Can and should citizens be involved in some ways in the making of decisions as well as deliberating about them and influencing those who decide in their stead? Moreover, I am not clear about the kinds of claims that Cortina views as appropriate in democratic deliberation. Does she admit expression of self‐ and group interest as well as proposals for the common good? Does she think that venues for public deliberation should be capacious enough to include professions of religious faith or should these religious claims be filtered out by “public reason” and a civic ethic? In Part IV, I argue that a similar lacuna, which I hope to fill, exists in Sen’s work. My hope is that the version of deliberative democracy I develop in later chapters can provide a way to improve both Sen’s and Cortina’s work and contribute to their further convergence.
NOTES
This chapter greatly benefited from discussions in the fall of 2005 with colleagues and students at the University of Valencia. I am grateful to Jesús Conill, Adela Cortina, Eddie Crocker, Daniela Gallegos, Des Gasper, Bradford S. Hadaway, Daniel Levine, Lori Keleher, Verna Gehring, and Martin Urquijo for helpful comments on earlier drafts. Cortina’s and Hadaway’s incisive and extensive comments were especially useful, and I hope to do them justice, if not in this chapter, then in subsequent publications.
1. Denis Goulet, “World Hunger: Putting Development Ethics to the Test,” Christianity and Crisis (May 26, 1975): 125–32. This article, which originated as a paper at the World Food Conference at Yale University early in 1975, was reprinted in Sociological Inquiry, 45, 4 (1975): 3–9.
2. For the argument that the capability approach has not provided – and, perhaps, cannot provide – an ethic of consumption and, particularly, an ethic that would criticize “consumerism, the unending addictive quest for satisfaction through purchases,” see Des Gasper, The Ethics of Development: From Economism to Human Development (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2004), 181. See also John Cameron and Des Gasper, “Amartya Sen on Inequality, Human Well‐being and Development as Freedom,” Journal of International Development, 12, 7 (2000): 985–8.
3. Adela Cortina, Por una ética del consumo: La ciudadanía del consumidor en un mundo global (Madrid: Taurus, 2002).
5. David A. Crocker, “Consumption, Well‐being, and Capability,” in Ethics of Consumption: The Good Life, Justice, and Global Stewardship, ed. David A. Crocker and Toby Linden (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 366–90.
6. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 203.
8. Ibid., 29, 136, 179–80, 234.
9. I cannot take up here the interesting question of whether consumption choices have more extensive and long‐lasting consequences on poor countries than do other kinds of “Northern” choices, such as legal, military, production, or development aid decisions.
10. Ibid., 139, 174, 217, 224–7, 248, 303.
11. Conversation, November 23, 2005.
12. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 207, 217, 227. Flavio Comin has suggested that one might prefer “autonomy” over “agency” for the reason that autonomy suggests that a person determines his conduct by his own highest values or moral principles while agency suggests only that the person acts on purpose and for a purpose but not necessarily on the basis of cherished values or principle. This is one conception of autonomy, but it is not Cortina’s or Sen’s ideal of agency. It is true that in one passage Cortina suggests something like this sense of autonomy when she says that “‘substantive liberty’ consists above all in wanting what is valuable in itself above and beyond one’s egoistic self‐interest” (Por una ética del consumo, 242). Stephen Darwall would classify this specific sense of autonomy as either “personal autonomy” (the agent determines his conduct “by his own most highly cherished values”) or “moral autonomy” (the agent determines his conduct “in accord with his own moral convictions or principle”): “The Value of Autonomy and Autonomy of the Will,” Ethics, 116, 2 (2006): 264. Cortina’s considered view of autonomy, however, is a more robust one in which the agent determines his own principles of action as well as his own conduct (in the light of those principles). Cortina’s conception of autonomy and Sen’s ideal of agency are the same as political theorist Rob Reich’s ideal of an autonomous person: “The conception of autonomy I defend refers to a person’s ability to reflect independently and critically upon basic commitments, values, desires, and beliefs, be they chosen or unchosen, and to enjoy a range of meaningful life options from which to choose, upon which to act, and around which to orient and pursue one’s life projects”: Rob Reich, Bridging Liberalism and Multicultuarlism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 105.
13. Jesús Conill, “Capacidades humanas,” in Glosario para una sociedad intercultural, ed. Jesús Conill (Valencia: Bancaja, 2002); Horizontes de economía ética (Madrid: Editorial Tecnos, 2004), esp. 141–98. See also Marta Pedrajas Herrero, “El desarrollo humano en la economía ética de Amartya Sen,” doctoral thesis, Faculty of Philosophy, University of Valenica, 2005), ch. 4.
14. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 213.
16. If a poor person could exercise no agency, then an important justification for an inclusive democracy would be undermined. Flavio Comin helped me see this point.
17. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 224–27; Conill, Horizontes de economía ética 32, 173–82, 190–4.
18. For an interpretation of Kant’s notion of rational agency in relation to both recent interpretations of Kant and the issue of Northern consumption, see Bradford S. Hadaway, “Subsistence Rights and Simplicity,” a paper presented at the First International Politics and Ethics Conference, University of Southern Mississippi – Gulf Park, Long Beach, Mississippi, March 24–5, 2005.
19. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 227.
20. I owe this point to discussions with Bradford S. Hadaway.
21. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 139. See also “La tradición del republicanismo aristocrático,” in Republicanismo y educación cívica: ¿Más allá del liberalismo?, ed. Jesús Conill and David A. Crocker (Granada: Editorial Comares, 2003), 57–72.
22. Sen, Development as Freedom, xii. It is true, as Flavio Comin remarks in a personal communication, that this passage conceives development as removing unfreedoms and expanding freedoms or capabilities. I contend, however, that with his reference to “reasoned agency” Sen is also expressing the importance of that capability – I would say “super‐capability” – in terms of which individuals and groups themselves decide on and prioritize freedoms or capabilities that they have reason to value.
23. See Sen, Development as Freedom, 90–3, 216–19, 225–6, 282–9; Sabina Alkire, Valuing Freedoms: Sen’s Capability Approach and Poverty Reduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 99–100; Polly Vizard, Poverty and Human Rights: Sen’s “Capability Perspective” Explored (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 78–91.
24. Amartya Sen, “Elements of a Theory of Human Rights,” Philosophy and Public Affairs, 32, 4 (2004): 315–56, esp. 328–30. See also Sen, Development as Freedom, 230–1.
25. For this argument to go through, one needs a premise of moral equality or impartiality. Otherwise the conclusion that I should be concerned for others would follow only if and when I would benefit. In Chapter 9, I argue that Sen should make this assumption of moral equality explicit in his argument for the intrinsic value of democracy. That Sen himself makes this egalitarian assumption is suggested when he says that our responsibilities to help as well as not to harm others “is not so much a matter of having exact rules about how precisely we ought to behave, as of recognizing the relevance of our shared humanity in making the choices we face” (Sen, Development as Freedom, 283). Also relevant is his remark, when discussing the importance of moral and legal rights, that “human rights are seen as rights shared by all – irrespective of citizenship – the benefits of which everyone should have” (ibid., 230).
26. Sen, ibid., 288. It should be noted that this passage and the section of Development as Freedom entitled “Interdependence between Freedom and Responsibility” address our responsibilities for ourselves rather than responsibilities to others. Sen briefly takes up the issue of responsibility to others, especially in the field of business ethics, in ibid., 261–81.
27. Henry Shue, Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and US Foreign Policy, 2nd edn. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996); “Mediating Duties,” Ethics, 98, 4 (1988): 687–704; “Solidarity among Strangers and the Right to Food,” in World Hunger and Morality, 2nd edn., ed. William Aiken and Hugh La Follette (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice‐Hall, 1996), 113–32; Henry Shue, “Thickening Convergence: Human Rights and Cultural Diversity,” in The Ethics of Assistance: Morality and the Distant Needy, ed. Deen K. Chatterjee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 217–41.
28. James W. Nickel, Making Sense of Human Rights, 2nd edn. (Oxford and Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2007); “How Human Rights Generate Duties to Protect and Provide,” Human Rights Quarterly, 15 (1993): 77–86.
29. Especially relevant for constructing an ethic of consumption from Sen’s writings is Amartya Sen, “The Living Standard,” Oxford Economic Papers, 36 (1984): 74–90. Excerpts from this essay, together with two postscripts – bearing on consumption – from two of Sen’s later essays appear as “The Living Standard,” in Ethics of Consumption, ed. Crocker and Linden, 287–311.
30. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 280. Cortina treats autonomous consumption most extensively in ibid., 234–41.
31. See Hadaway, “Subsistence Rights and Simplicity,” 14–21.
32. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 280.
33. See esp. ibid., 241–48.
35. See, for example, a Washington Post article that reports mounting evidence that certain widely used antibiotics and anti‐heartburn medications make consumers more susceptible to a bacterial stomach infection known as Clostridium difficile or C.diff.: Rob Stein, “Stomach Bug Mutates into Medical Mystery,” Washington Post (December 29, 2005), A 1, 9. We must distinguish, of course, between, on the one hand, responsible journalism that reports scientific research and expert concerns and, on the other hand, reporting that outstrips the evidence and either exaggerates or minimizes consumer risk.
36. In a personal communication, Daniel Levine observes that some online reviewers have gained respect as reliable evaluators of certain kinds of products.
37. I leave open the question of whether the sale and consumption of various addictive drugs should be criminalized.
38. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 222.
42. Jane Perlez and Kirk Johnson, “Behind Gold’s Glitter: Torn Lands and Pointed Questions,” New York Times (October 24, 2005), A 4; “Tangled Strands in Fight Over Peru Gold Glitter” (October 25, 2005), <http://query.nytimes.com/search/query?srcht=s&srchst=m&vendor=&query=%22environment%22&submit.x=48&submit.y=17>. See also Andrea Perera, “Controversy Surrounding Gold Mining Grows as Jewelers, Indigneous Community Leaders Speak Out,” Oxfam Exchange (Spring 2006). One may visit <www.nodirtygold.org> and sign the No Dirty Gold pledge to end destructive mining practices.
43. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 248.
46. Des Gasper suggest a variant to (1) in which we supplement our regular walking and bike‐riding with occasional use – when weather is bad or destinations are far – of taxis and public transportation. In mountain terrain, cycling would take a back seat, so to speak, to walking and some motorized transport.
47. Combining features of options (1) and (2) would result in walking and biking as the default mode of transportation, with our fuel‐efficient car being used in bad weather or to travel longer distances (not served by public transportation).
48. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 230.
49. Des Gasper has suggested this point.
50. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 249–55.
54. Ibid., 254–5. This democratic‐deliberative alternative to the “crystal ball” problem would have to make it more reasonable to believe that democratic decision‐making would yield more reliable answers (and that citizen deliberative capacities can be acquired) than our best estimates of the consequences of various consumption choices. I owe this point to personal conversations with Daniel Levine.
55. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 255–61.
56. See, for example, ibid., 233.
57. See Richard A. Easterlin, “Will Raising the Incomes of All Increase the Happiness of All?,” Journal of Economic Behavior and Organization, 27 (1995): 35–48; Robert H. Frank, Luxury Fever: Why Money Fails to Satisfy in an Era of Excess (New York: Free Press, 1999), esp. ch. 9; Carol Graham and Stefano Pettinato, Happiness and Hardship: Opportunity and Insecurity in New Market Economies (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2002).
58. See Robert E. Lane, The Market Experience (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991), ch. 26; “Does Money Buy Happiness?” Public Interest, 111 (Fall 1993), 59, 61; “The Road Not Taken: Friendship, Consumerism, and Happiness,” in Ethics of Consumption, ed. Crocker and Linden, 218–49; After the End of History: The Curious Fate of American Materialism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005). See also Frank, Luxury Fever, esp. ch. 5.
59. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 113–14, 308. See Juliet B. Schor, The Overspent American: Upscaling, Downshifting, and the New Consumer (New York: Basic Books, 1998), ch. 6. See also Schor, The Overworked American: The Unexpected Decline of Leisure (New York: Basic Books, 1992).
60. See Jerome M. Segal, “Living at a High Economic Standard: A Funtionings Analysis,” in Ethics of Consumption, ed. Crocker and Linden, 361, 363.
61. For “downshifting” trends in Australia and the UK, see Clive Hamilton, Growth Fetish (London: Pluto Press, 2004).
62. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 308–9. See Jerome M. Segal, Graceful Simplicity: Toward a Philosophy and Politics of Simple Living (New York: Henry Holt, 1999).
63. Luis Camacho, “Consumption as a Topic for the North–South Debate,” in Ethics of Consumption, ed. Crocker and Linden, 559. See Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 311.
64. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 255.
65. See Robert H. Frank, Choosing the Right Pond: Human Behavior and the Quest for Status (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985); Judith Lichtenberg, “Consuming Because Others Consume,” in Ethics of Consumption, ed. Crocker and Linden, 155–75.
66. See Frank, Luxury Fever, esp. ch. 17.
67. See Hadaway, “Subsistence Rights and Simplicity,” 14–24.
68. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 265–90.
69. See also Adela Cortina, Ciudadanos del mundo: Hacia una teoría de la ciudadanía (Madrid: Alianza, 1997); Alianza y contrato: Política, ética, y religión (Madrid: Trotta, 2001).
70. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 270.
73. Sen, Development as Freedom, 284. Cf. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 316.
74. Sen, Development as Freedom, 284.
75. Further work is needed to investigate the extent to which lowering trade barriers for producers in the South would lower prices for Northern consumers and enrich large transnational producers, but fail to benefit local populations in developing countries.
76. Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 316.
78. Immanuel Kant, Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, 3rd edn., trans. James W. Ellington (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 1993), 429. On pp. 244–5 above, I quoted and discussed Cortina’s gloss (for consumption choices) of the “formula of humanity” version of Kant’s categorical imperative. See also Cortina, Por una ética del consumo, 246.
79. See Hadaway, “Subsistence Rights and Simplicity.”
80. In his suggestive and incisive paper, Hadaway draws on the following recent interpretations of Kant: Henry E. Allison, Kant’s Theory of Freedom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Marcia Baron, Kantian Ethics Almost Without Apology (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995); Stephen Engstrom, “The Inner Virtue of Freedom,” in Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals: Interpretive Essays, ed. Mark Timmons (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002); Barbara Herman, The Practice of Moral Judgment (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993); and Nelson Potter, “Duties to Oneself, Motivational Internalism, and Self‐Deception in Kant’s Ethics,” in Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals, ed. Timmons, 371–89. Harry Frankfurt’s seminal essay is “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person,” Journal of Philosophy, 68, 1 (1971): 5–20. For recent work on autonomy, see Personal Autonomy: New Essays in Personal Autonomy and Its Role in Contemporary Moral Philosophy, ed. James Stacey Taylor (Cambride: Cambridge University Press, 2005). For Sen on identity and freedom, see “Reason Before Identity,” Romanes Lecture, Oxford University, November 17, 1998; “Beyond Identity: Other People,” The New Republic, 223/5 (2000): 23–30; Identify and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny (New York: W. W. Norton, 2006).
81. <www.counterculturecoffee.com>.
82. According to the “Grounds for Change” website, certified organic coffee “is grown without the use of chemical pesticides and fertilizers, thereby assuring the health of the soil, forest and farmers”; “certified fair trade coffee gives farmers a better standard of living and producer cooperatives are guaranteed a minimum fair price for their crop”; and “shade grown coffee protects migratory bird habitat and reduces clear‐cutting in tropical rainforests as well as enhancing flavor”: <www.groundsforchange.com>.
83. For an evaluation of the reliability of various agencies and their approaches to organic certification, see Consumer Reports (February 2006).
84. Katha Pollitt, “Happy New Year!,” Nation (January 22, 2007), 10.
85. See, for example, Por una ética del consumo, ch. 2.
86. See Norman Myers and Jennifer Kent, The New Consumers: The Influence of Affluence on the Environment (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2004).
87. Charles C. Mann, “Betting the Planet,” in Peter Menzel and Charles C. Mann, Material World: A Global Family Portrait (San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1994), 9.
88. See, for example, David A. Crocker, Luis Camacho, and Ramón Romero, “Globalization, Changing Consumption Patterns, and Human Development: The Cases of Costa Rica and Honduras,” Background Paper for United Nations Development Programme, Human Development Report 1998.