Thanks for the thoughtful write-up! A few things came to mind while reading:
Part of the post felt like a false equivalencyâto my knowledge $100M spent on animal welfare would actually net virtually no funds to conservation, as opposed to other approaches. Indeed as CB pointed out, many of the ideas people are pursuing are anti-conservation (I admit I am biased against funding wild animal suffering programs) - they actually openly advocate for further manipulating ecosystems.
One particular section also caught my eye: âZoonotic diseases, such as Ebola, SARS, and COVID-19, often emerge when ecosystems are disrupted, forcing animals and humans into closer contact. The loss of biodiversity weakens natural barriers that prevent the spread of these diseases. A diverse ecosystem can act as a buffer, reducing the chances of pathogens jumping from animals to humans.â I am not sure how these two points flow from one another. I think itâs perfectly possible to have biodiversity and still zoonotic diseasesâas you correctly note zoonotic diseases primarily emerge from our interactions with wildlife, which feels independent of the biodiversityâthe 2009 Swine flu epidemic is a good example of regular factory farming causing outbreaks of zoonotic disease. Many additional epidemics like SARS and Covid-19 appear to point to wet markets as their sourceâin other words its our eating of animals that is causing zoonotic diseaseâunrelated to the biodiversity of ecosystems.
One thing that I appreciate about this post is the difficulty noted in weighing diffuse benefits from specific ones. I have no doubt that conservation of land and biodiversity has positive impacts for animal and human lives (e.g. preserving floodplains for water/âflood management). Diffuse benefits in better temperature management, improved likelihood to identify antibiotics, etc., are difficult to quantify but âfeelâ right. However âfeelâ right is also what EA would counter in avoiding ineffective charities. I think there is more to be done in trying to quantify potential benefits. I wonder if there are opportunities to more quantifiably learn from projects like the Gorongosa Restoration Project that you cite.
Letâs examine the conceptual, ethical, and philosophical issues raised in your comment, exploring some lesser-discussed nuances that are critical to understanding the intersections between conservation, zoonotic diseases, wild animal suffering, and the broader implications for effective altruism (EA) frameworks.
The Ethical Tensions in Conservation and Wild Animal Suffering
At the core of your critique lies an unresolved tension between two approaches that might seem compatible on the surfaceâconservation and animal welfareâbut actually embody divergent ethical and philosophical orientations. Conservation, traditionally, is motivated by a biocentric or ecocentric ethic. Its primary concern is the integrity, stability, and resilience of ecosystems and the intrinsic value of biodiversity. From this perspective, ecosystem manipulationâeven if it aims to alleviate sufferingâis problematic because it violates the underlying principles of respecting natural processes and ecological wholeness. This is a teleological view, in which ecosystems are seen to have an inherent âgoodnessâ or purpose that ought to be preserved. Philosophers like Aldo Leopold, Holmes Rolston III, and Arne Naess have emphasized the intrinsic value of ecological systems, advocating for non-interference as a form of respect for the natural worldâs autonomy and self-regulating capacities. On the other hand, the animal welfare approach, particularly as endorsed by wild animal suffering programs, is largely rooted in a utilitarian or consequentialist framework that prioritizes the reduction of suffering above all else. This ethical stance places the individual sentient being at the center of moral concern, regardless of its place in a larger ecological network. Hence, ecosystem manipulation, such as predator control or even more extreme interventions like habitat alteration to reduce suffering, could be justified if the net suffering of sentient beings is decreased. What is particularly fascinating here is how this debate reframes classical philosophical dilemmas, such as the ânaturalistic fallacy.â If nature is intrinsically good, as some conservationists argue, then human interventions that disrupt ecological processesâeven if they alleviate sufferingâare ethically wrong. But if the consequences (e.g., a reduction in suffering) are what matter most, the sanctity of natural processes becomes less significant.
Biodiversity, and Zoonotic Spillovers
Your comment regarding biodiversity and zoonotic disease touches on a conceptual gap in much of the discourse around ecosystem health. Youâre right to assert that zoonotic diseases often emerge from human practices such as factory farming, and wet marketsâactivities that donât necessarily reduce biodiversity per se, but alter the ecological configurations that heighten disease spillover risks. While biodiversity does not immunize ecosystems against zoonotic outbreaks (i.e., you can have both high biodiversity and zoonotic diseases), the relationship is more nuanced than it appears at first glance. Hereâs where the dilution effect theory plays an interesting role. The idea is that in ecosystems with high biodiversity, species that are less competent at harboring or transmitting pathogens (often called âdilution hostsâ) can buffer human populations from zoonotic diseases. Conversely, in ecosystems where biodiversity is diminished, the remaining species may disproportionately include âamplifying hostsââspecies that efficiently carry and transmit pathogens. The loss of biodiversity can lead to a breakdown in these natural regulatory systems, potentially increasing pathogen transmission to humans.
The Challenge of Quantifying Diffuse Benefits
Effective altruism, with its utilitarian underpinnings, tends to prioritize interventions that yield quantifiable benefitsâespecially those that can be tied to human welfare, such as saving lives or alleviating poverty. This focus often leads to the neglect of long-term, diffuse ecological benefits that are harder to measure but are crucial for planetary health and resilience. Consider, for example, the ecosystem services provided by intact forests: flood regulation, carbon sequestration, water purification, and pollination. These services have diffuse, often non-market benefits that accrue over decades or centuries, and their loss would be catastrophic. However, from a near-term, anthropocentric perspective, funding interventions that directly prevent human suffering (e.g., malaria bed nets) seems to offer a more tangible return on investment. This mismatch between measurable, immediate human welfare and diffuse, long-term ecosystem health is a fundamental critique ecological economics offers against mainstream economic thinking. Conventional economics struggles to internalize the value of ecosystem services, leading to a systematic underinvestment in conservation. Projects like the Gorongosa Restoration Project you mentioned are exemplary because they showcase the co-benefits of conservationâimproving human livelihoods while restoring ecosystems. But even such examples are difficult to scale or quantify with the precision demanded by EA methodologies, leading to a kind of ethical impasse between what feels right (conservation) and what seems right from a cost-effectiveness standpoint.
This brings us to a deeper philosophical issue: what kind of future are we valuing? If we are committed to a long-term view of human and non-human flourishing, we may need to embrace uncertainty and complexity rather than trying to reduce the world to predictable, quantifiable outcomes. The unpredictability and interconnectedness of ecosystems challenge the very premise that we can calculate the future benefits of conservation in a straightforward manner. This echoes the critiques of âepistemic humilityâ found in risk ethics, where the recognition of our limits in predicting complex systems forces a reconsideration of what it means to act ethically.
Thanks for the thoughtful write-up! A few things came to mind while reading:
Part of the post felt like a false equivalencyâto my knowledge $100M spent on animal welfare would actually net virtually no funds to conservation, as opposed to other approaches. Indeed as CB pointed out, many of the ideas people are pursuing are anti-conservation (I admit I am biased against funding wild animal suffering programs) - they actually openly advocate for further manipulating ecosystems.
One particular section also caught my eye: âZoonotic diseases, such as Ebola, SARS, and COVID-19, often emerge when ecosystems are disrupted, forcing animals and humans into closer contact. The loss of biodiversity weakens natural barriers that prevent the spread of these diseases. A diverse ecosystem can act as a buffer, reducing the chances of pathogens jumping from animals to humans.â I am not sure how these two points flow from one another. I think itâs perfectly possible to have biodiversity and still zoonotic diseasesâas you correctly note zoonotic diseases primarily emerge from our interactions with wildlife, which feels independent of the biodiversityâthe 2009 Swine flu epidemic is a good example of regular factory farming causing outbreaks of zoonotic disease. Many additional epidemics like SARS and Covid-19 appear to point to wet markets as their sourceâin other words its our eating of animals that is causing zoonotic diseaseâunrelated to the biodiversity of ecosystems.
One thing that I appreciate about this post is the difficulty noted in weighing diffuse benefits from specific ones. I have no doubt that conservation of land and biodiversity has positive impacts for animal and human lives (e.g. preserving floodplains for water/âflood management). Diffuse benefits in better temperature management, improved likelihood to identify antibiotics, etc., are difficult to quantify but âfeelâ right. However âfeelâ right is also what EA would counter in avoiding ineffective charities. I think there is more to be done in trying to quantify potential benefits. I wonder if there are opportunities to more quantifiably learn from projects like the Gorongosa Restoration Project that you cite.
Letâs examine the conceptual, ethical, and philosophical issues raised in your comment, exploring some lesser-discussed nuances that are critical to understanding the intersections between conservation, zoonotic diseases, wild animal suffering, and the broader implications for effective altruism (EA) frameworks.
The Ethical Tensions in Conservation and Wild Animal Suffering
At the core of your critique lies an unresolved tension between two approaches that might seem compatible on the surfaceâconservation and animal welfareâbut actually embody divergent ethical and philosophical orientations. Conservation, traditionally, is motivated by a biocentric or ecocentric ethic. Its primary concern is the integrity, stability, and resilience of ecosystems and the intrinsic value of biodiversity. From this perspective, ecosystem manipulationâeven if it aims to alleviate sufferingâis problematic because it violates the underlying principles of respecting natural processes and ecological wholeness. This is a teleological view, in which ecosystems are seen to have an inherent âgoodnessâ or purpose that ought to be preserved. Philosophers like Aldo Leopold, Holmes Rolston III, and Arne Naess have emphasized the intrinsic value of ecological systems, advocating for non-interference as a form of respect for the natural worldâs autonomy and self-regulating capacities. On the other hand, the animal welfare approach, particularly as endorsed by wild animal suffering programs, is largely rooted in a utilitarian or consequentialist framework that prioritizes the reduction of suffering above all else. This ethical stance places the individual sentient being at the center of moral concern, regardless of its place in a larger ecological network. Hence, ecosystem manipulation, such as predator control or even more extreme interventions like habitat alteration to reduce suffering, could be justified if the net suffering of sentient beings is decreased. What is particularly fascinating here is how this debate reframes classical philosophical dilemmas, such as the ânaturalistic fallacy.â If nature is intrinsically good, as some conservationists argue, then human interventions that disrupt ecological processesâeven if they alleviate sufferingâare ethically wrong. But if the consequences (e.g., a reduction in suffering) are what matter most, the sanctity of natural processes becomes less significant.
Biodiversity, and Zoonotic Spillovers
Your comment regarding biodiversity and zoonotic disease touches on a conceptual gap in much of the discourse around ecosystem health. Youâre right to assert that zoonotic diseases often emerge from human practices such as factory farming, and wet marketsâactivities that donât necessarily reduce biodiversity per se, but alter the ecological configurations that heighten disease spillover risks. While biodiversity does not immunize ecosystems against zoonotic outbreaks (i.e., you can have both high biodiversity and zoonotic diseases), the relationship is more nuanced than it appears at first glance. Hereâs where the dilution effect theory plays an interesting role. The idea is that in ecosystems with high biodiversity, species that are less competent at harboring or transmitting pathogens (often called âdilution hostsâ) can buffer human populations from zoonotic diseases. Conversely, in ecosystems where biodiversity is diminished, the remaining species may disproportionately include âamplifying hostsââspecies that efficiently carry and transmit pathogens. The loss of biodiversity can lead to a breakdown in these natural regulatory systems, potentially increasing pathogen transmission to humans.
The Challenge of Quantifying Diffuse Benefits
Effective altruism, with its utilitarian underpinnings, tends to prioritize interventions that yield quantifiable benefitsâespecially those that can be tied to human welfare, such as saving lives or alleviating poverty. This focus often leads to the neglect of long-term, diffuse ecological benefits that are harder to measure but are crucial for planetary health and resilience. Consider, for example, the ecosystem services provided by intact forests: flood regulation, carbon sequestration, water purification, and pollination. These services have diffuse, often non-market benefits that accrue over decades or centuries, and their loss would be catastrophic. However, from a near-term, anthropocentric perspective, funding interventions that directly prevent human suffering (e.g., malaria bed nets) seems to offer a more tangible return on investment. This mismatch between measurable, immediate human welfare and diffuse, long-term ecosystem health is a fundamental critique ecological economics offers against mainstream economic thinking. Conventional economics struggles to internalize the value of ecosystem services, leading to a systematic underinvestment in conservation. Projects like the Gorongosa Restoration Project you mentioned are exemplary because they showcase the co-benefits of conservationâimproving human livelihoods while restoring ecosystems. But even such examples are difficult to scale or quantify with the precision demanded by EA methodologies, leading to a kind of ethical impasse between what feels right (conservation) and what seems right from a cost-effectiveness standpoint.
This brings us to a deeper philosophical issue: what kind of future are we valuing? If we are committed to a long-term view of human and non-human flourishing, we may need to embrace uncertainty and complexity rather than trying to reduce the world to predictable, quantifiable outcomes. The unpredictability and interconnectedness of ecosystems challenge the very premise that we can calculate the future benefits of conservation in a straightforward manner. This echoes the critiques of âepistemic humilityâ found in risk ethics, where the recognition of our limits in predicting complex systems forces a reconsideration of what it means to act ethically.