The book [under review] is intended to be read (and is indeed worth reading) as a contribution to the argument about the morality of the use of the two atomic bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
. . .
The story of his [the author's] prison experiences is followed by a discussion of the morality of the bombing, in which he argues that, if the bombs had not been dropped, the defeat of the Japanese by conventional means would have been accompanied by a massacre of their prisoners, including himself—if they had not already died, like many of their companions, of malnutrition and disease.
. . .
It is to be hoped . . . that professional historians will thoroughly investigate the truth of van der Post's thesis, now that he has suggested it, for it might have a crucial bearing on the moral issue about the bomb, and needs at least as much discussion as some other factors which have been in the forefront of attention.
There are those who would say that it could have no such bearing, because the dropping of the bomb was in itself a moral crime which could not be justified by any good consequences, even the saving of more lives (enemy and Allied alike) than it destroyed. People who discuss the morality of actions will perhaps always be divided into two classes: those who think that one should do the best one can in an evil world, and those who think it more important to keep oneself unspotted, by observing, "whatever the consequences," certain simple moral principles which are not allowed to be over about twelve words long. It is fortunate, and perhaps natural, that members of the second class do not often find themselves in positions in which they have to make decisions on which the fate of millions depends—fortunate, because, if they did, that fate might be much worse; and natural, because power, though it may corrupt, does also, often, bring with it a sense of that responsibility from which it is inseparable, thus shifting its wielders from the second class into the first.
It is really very difficult to see how any person with this sense of responsibility, in Truman's position, could say to himself (as it has been urged that he should have said), "If I drop the bomb innocent people will be killed by it, and that would be murder, so I must not drop it. Admittedly, if I don't drop it, a great many more innocent people will get killed by the enemy, but that is irrelevant and is not to be laid to my charge, but to that of the enemy leaders." Truman could not escape from the responsibility of his position as supreme commander. He had a choice between doing various things, and to do any of them would be to bring about certain consequences. We hold statesmen responsible for evils that occur if they could have prevented them by courses which would have produced less evil. For a full treatment of this question, more explanations and qualifications are needed, but that is the heart of it.
To condemn Truman just because he failed to cancel orders whose execution entailed the killing of innocent people is, therefore, to oversimplify the question. If he is to be condemned, it will have to be because he did not do the best he could in the circumstances and did not take sufficient trouble to inform himself about the circumstances in order to determine what was the best thing to do. If this indictment is to be sustained, its second clause is crucial. Truman was, or would have been, very much to blame if there were other possible courses of action besides the bombing (both "conventional" and atomic) that would have ended the war at less cost in lives and suffering, and if he could have discovered and adopted them, but did not.
(R. M. Hare, "Was Hiroshima Necessary?" review of The Prisoner and the Bomb, by Laurens van der Post, The New York Review of Books 16 [20 May 1971]: __-__, at __ [italics in original])
Note from KBJ: Regular readers of this blog know that there are three types of normative ethical theory. Consequentialists say that no acts are intrinsically wrong. Whether a particular act is right or wrong depends solely on its consequences, as compared to the consequences of alternative acts. If an act of torture is wrong, therefore, it is wrong not because it is an act of torture (that is irrelevant) but because there is some alternative act that has better overall consequences than it has. Nonconsequentialists (a.k.a. deontologists) say that some acts, such as torture, are intrinsically wrong, i.e., wrong in and of themselves, independently of their consequences. There are two types of deontologist. Absolutist deontologists say that intrinsically wrong acts are absolutely wrong. They are wrong "whatever the consequences." Moderate deontologists say that intrinsically wrong acts can be right, all things considered, provided they produce enough good (where the prevention, elimination, or reduction of bad counts as a good). Moderate deontologists have something in common with each of the others. This means that we can, if we wish, contrast consequentialists and moderate deontologists with absolutist deontologists. The first two reject absolutism. We can also contrast absolutist and moderate deontologists with consequentialists. The first two affirm, while the third denies, that there are intrinsically wrong acts. How we classify the theories depends on our purposes.
Hare, in the passage quoted, divides normative ethical theorists into two exclusive and exhaustive types: absolutists and nonabsolutists. His class of nonabsolutists includes both consequentialists and moderate deontologists. (I'm being charitable to Hare. Strictly speaking, he is dividing normative ethical theorists into two exclusive and nonexhaustive types: consequentialists and absolutist deontologists. A cynic would say that he is doing this for the following reason. If there are just two types, rather than three, and if absolutist deontology is unacceptable, then only consequentialism is acceptable. Hare is a consequentialist. He would be guilty of committing the fallacy of false dichotomy. Let's not make this accusation. Let's interpret Hare as lumping consequentialism in with moderate deontology. His main target, after all, is absolutism, not deontology.)
It would be nice if Hare argued for consequentialism (or against absolutism). About all he does in this review, besides make snide comments such as that about 12-word rules/principles, is express incomprehension that "any person with this sense of responsibility, in Truman's position, could say to himself . . . , 'If I drop the bomb innocent people will be killed by it, and that would be murder, so I must not drop it.'" Many people, including prominent philosophers such as G. E. M. Anscombe (1919-2001), have no trouble whatsoever comprehending this sort of reasoning, and indeed find it difficult to understand how people like Hare could sacrifice some innocent people for the sake of others. Absolutism may not be to everyone's liking, but it is a perfectly coherent and respectable normative stance. Hare makes it seem as though only a moral monster could endorse it. Ha! Anscombe would say that Hare is the moral monster.
Note 2 from KBJ:
Hare to Anscombe: "You're willing to allow 10,000 innocent people to die rather than to kill 5,000 innocent people? You monster!"
Anscombe to Hare: "You're willing to kill 5,000 innocent people rather than to allow 10,000 innocent people to die? You monster!"
Let's call this the "argumentum monsterum."
Keith Burgess-Jackson, J.D., Ph.D. 