Justice-Making and Fairness

Many primatologists speak less about fairness and more about what they believe is a prelude to that sense: inequity aversion, that is, a behavioral reaction to unequal distribution of goods (Brosnan 2011a, 1–10).

In work with human subjects, in a counterintuitive game called the impunity game, money is given to someone named as the proposer who then decides how to split the reward with a partner called a responder who knows how much the proposer has received. If the proposer offers an unequal amount, the responder regularly refuses, even though in this case the responder can gain nothing, and so inequity is thereby increased.

Similar types of behaviors exist for other primate species. Most of the experiments involve a pair of monkeys in adjoining open mesh cages where they can see their partners easily; in the case of apes, they sometimes are allowed to be together in the same enclosure. Most such experiments also require the completion of a task before being given a reward. The inequity comparison is inevitably social in nature.

A plausible biological explanation is that reacting to inequity has evolutionary advantages by encouraging individuals to switch partners when that relationship is not to their advantage. Hence, while the impunity game may be disadvantageous in the short term, it would encourage longer-term cooperation with others who are prepared to be “fair.” Such reactions are not necessarily self-conscious; all that seems to be required is recognition of an individual as a potential social partner, which seems very widespread within the animal kingdom, including in invertebrates (Steiger et al. 2008).

Psychologist and neuroscientist Sarah Brosnan—who originally was based in primatologist Frans de Waal’s laboratory—has proposed that there is an evolutionary link between cooperation and inequity aversion. Based on her hypothesis, one would predict first that inequity outcomes affect cooperation, second that negative responses to inequity are situated in the context of cooperation, and third that cooperative species are more sensitive to inequity (Brosnan 2011a).

The first point (inequity outcomes affect cooperation) was tested in an experiment with capuchin monkeys where the monkeys were not in adjoining cages but were able to work out who would operate which part of the apparatus to receive a reward. If, on average, each partner received the same kind of reward, cooperation was sustained. If instead one of the monkeys consistently dominated to get better rewards, cooperation with the partner subsequently dropped to a third of the rate.

The second point (negative responses to inequity are situated in the context of cooperation) reflects on awareness of the actors’ intention. Humans will react more negatively to inequity when they know that inequity has arisen from a deliberate choice rather than from a random chance event. Primates will also respond negatively to an experimenter who deliberately drops a reward compared with when it appears to be an accident. For example, chimpanzees reacted more negatively to inequity in relation to another individual who had previously stolen their food. Chimpanzees in experiments that allowed one chimpanzee to prevent a partner gaining access to food would do so more frequently where that partner had previously taken away their access to the food. What is particularly interesting is that in all cases some kind of task was needed to trigger a sense of inequity. One possible explanation is that a task mimics joint activity, so they expect a more equitable outcome. As well as sex, rank, and group identity, the experimental design of the tasks and individual differences may also play a role.

The evidential basis of the third point (cooperative species are more sensitive to inequity) rests on information about the extent of inequity aversion across different primate species, including, importantly, differences between field and laboratory studies. Tamarins are cooperative breeders, that is, both males and females collaborate in rearing their young. Tamarins were insensitive to inequity when the partners in each of the pairs were always males and females (Neiworth et al. 2009). Brosnan believes inequity aversion in this case, where the partnership is in a close interdependence for the sake of rearing their young, would be an evolutionary disadvantage.

Perhaps the most interesting case of all is that in which chimpanzees react to their partner who is nonkin when that nonkin partner receives a lesser award (Brosnan et al. 2010), also known as second-order inequity aversion. Here, a chimpanzee is sensitive to having too much relative to a partner (Brosnan and de Waal 2014). In this situation, chimpanzees are prepared to refuse a higher-level reward (grape) when their partner has received a less preferred one (carrot). Brosnan et al. (2010, 1236) suggest that the “results cannot ascertain the underlying motivations for this behaviour; chimpanzees’ responses may have been due to prosocial motivations, but may also have resulted from concern over accepting a higher-value reward in the presence of a conspecific (e.g., potential retaliation).” Capuchin monkeys are even more prosocial and are prepared to bring rewards to partners that have received less (de Waal et al. 2008; Lakshminarayanan and Santos 2008).

One question worth asking is whether examples of inequity aversion across a wide range of species can be conflated with a general sense of “fairness” or not. Those working with primates generally resist equating the term “fairness” with inequity aversion, especially first-level inequity aversion—that is, reacting to an inner sense of unfairness in relation to oneself. An objective sense of fairness is based on a second-order reflection on what would be reasonable to expect, whereas a first-order inequity response is a simpler comparative measure—you receive more, and then I react. Second-order inequity aversion is explained in evolutionary terms as being based on the need for long-term cooperation and not just short-term gain. Fairness implies contributions are balanced according to an agreed principle of fairness violated during inequity relationships.¹

It is easy to see why such results point towards a well-developed continuity thesis showing analogous behavior in evolutionary terms between primates and human beings, so, as Brosnan and de Waal (2014, 1) suggest, “[t]he pressure for increased cooperation combined with advanced cognitive abilities allowed humans to evolve a complete sense of fairness.”²

Inequity aversion could be thought of as the behavioral prerequisite to fairness in that without inequity aversion, it would be hard to believe fairness could emerge. The relationship between inequity aversion and fairness may be like that between empathy (which is widespread) and compassion (which is only found as short term and fleeting in primates other than humans). According to this interpretation, inequity aversion is not sufficient to account for fairness, as in the latter case an objective judgment is also involved. Similarly, empathy alone is not sufficient for compassion, and may even be associated with the opposite (Deane-Drummond 2017).

The closest one might get to appraising the cognitive ability of other beings to make judgments about what another is thinking arises from investigations of shared intention, which at one time was presumed to be entirely unique to humans. While primates do display some limited capacity to share intentions, humans are able to look at more subtle cues and find shared intentionality in many more situations.³

Is it ever reasonable to call hints about the inequity aversion behavior of animals “fairness” or “justice” or not, in so far as it is relevant to the specific perspective of those animal societies? Based on the aforementioned research on inequity aversion, Brosnan (2011b) is prepared to use the language of morality, but she hesitates to use the term fairness.

Brosnan and de Waal (2014, 1) suggest that

[t]he hallmark of a human sense of fairness is the idea of impartiality, that is, human fairness or justice is based on the idea of appropriate outcomes applied to everyone within the community, not just a few individuals, and, in particular, not just oneself. Thus, outcomes are judged according to a standard or ideal.

Here, fairness and justice seem to be conflated, though I would have described their definition as more appropriately one of justice rather than necessarily a much more general sense of fairness, which is usually more intuitive. Children, for example, recognize immediately when they find themselves in situations they perceive as unfair, mostly in relation to what they consider is owed to them (related to first-order inequity aversion), but they have not yet reached a mature sense of justice orientated towards others, and their “rules” for what might be owed to them are based on self-interest.

Ethologist Marc Bekoff and philosopher Jessica Pierce discuss social rules of animal societies in their book Wild Justice (Bekoff and Pierce 2009). “Fair play” complicates theological and philosophical assertions about justice being about the good of others rather than oneself in that the good of the playing agent routinely matches the good of all the others; so, it is good for all parties, including the most vulnerable. Wild “justice” seems to lack a reflective and deliberative concern for the other that is integral to human justice. Bekoff and Pierce (2009, 113) define what they term a “justice cluster” as those observable behaviors found in social animals in relation to a generalized sense of fairness, including “a desire for equity and a desire for and capacity to share reciprocally,” reactions to equity in expressions of “pleasure, gratitude and trust,” and reactions to inequity, including “retribution, indignation, and forgiveness.”

The more anthropomorphic language of “wild justice” along with associated terms such as retribution and forgiveness, for example, used by Bekoff (Horowitz and Bekoff 2007) arises from a different methodology when compared with primatologists Brosnan and de Waal. Rather than close laboratory investigations, Bekoff uses observations based on the methodology of cognitive ethology, that is, studying animal behavior in their natural settings.⁴

Bekoff and Pierce are accordingly prepared to use the term “wild justice” based on the following evidence: (a) a keen sense of justice as fairness is universal in humans; (b) even very young babies have a strong sense of fairness, which is a form of social evaluation even without symbolic language; and (c) indicators from direct observation of animal behavior. While they press for the idea of evolutionary continuity between fairness and justice, that does not mean justice is necessarily the same in different species.

Bekoff’s close study of play behavior shows that it depends on fairness, cooperation, and trust; accordingly, “[d]uring social play individuals can learn a sense of what’s right and wrong—what’s acceptable to others—the results of which is the development and maintenance of a social group (a game) that operates efficiently” (Bekoff and Pierce 2009, 116).

Animals learn to take turns and set up “handicaps” to make play fair between different ages or sizes. The rules of engagement include ways of agreeing to play, how hard to bite, avoiding mating attempts, minimizing assertion of dominance, and what to do in the event of a mistake. Play teaches its participants social skills and cements social bonds. Play, by definition, cannot be unfair (Bekoff and Pierce 2009, 118–9). It is therefore a more positive way of looking at the evolution of fairness compared with a study of inequity aversion, which is the reaction to what is perceived as unfair. Psychologist Gordon Burghardt (2005) finds evidence of play behavior very deep in evolutionary history, even one million years ago, among placental mammals, birds, and even crustaceans. Bekoff recognizes that play behavior is distinct in tolerating capability differences. Bekoff believes this makes play a form of wild justice in that it is “a set of social rules and expectations that neutralize differences among individuals in an effort to maintain group harmony” (Bekoff and Pierce 2009, 121).

Is the language of justice in relation to fair play behavior justified? It seems to me that the very different methods used by experimental researchers like Brosnan in comparison with Bekoff reflect the relative degree of comfort in using anthropomorphic language. Both Brosnan and Bekoff are prepared to speak of moral agency in primates and other social animals. Bekoff, based on his close affiliation with and observation of canids during play behavior, is prepared to see that behavior as a form of justice. He also, by implication, views this as being on a similar evolutionary trajectory as human justice. Bekoff is also quite happy to use anthropomorphic terms, which he argues are a heuristic tool to enable a better understanding of the social world of other animals. de Waal and Bekoff’s respective social and political commitments to animal welfare and animal rights may also play a role in how far they are prepared to use anthropomorphic language.⁵ It is clear to me that however far we are prepared to go in using such language, we are only ever grasping for insights into the minds of animals and the evolution of human morality, which can never be complete. We see through a glass darkly, but if we observe other animals with an eye of love and compassion, then we are more likely to credit them with capacities analogous to our own.

A theological understanding of what justice requires could be perceived as simply given by fiat, by divine command. I prefer to argue instead that such expressions of what justice means build on natural tendencies found in other animals, even if there are variations across different human and animal cultures. So, theological justice does not collapse into wild justice, nor is it shorn from it. I want to go further and say that wild justice and inequity aversion illuminate the way social communities work out their own social requirements for just living. While Thomas Aquinas recognized the possibility of a degree of volition in other animals, the freedom of the will in human beings permits deliberative acts of justice on behalf of a neighbor. Recognition of a distinctive human will therefore clarifies the theoretical precondition for just acts in so far as they are played out in human societies.

Accounting for the inner motivation that encourages alignment of the will to the good of others is more complicated, since it could be viewed as depending, at least in part, on the evolutionary drive towards cooperation more generally. However, in as much as cooperation can be directed at good or evil ends, evolutionary explanations do not sufficiently account for why good for others in acts of justice might be preferred, especially as justice considers not just benefits for kin but explicitly for nonkin and the most vulnerable. Aquinas (2012, 2a2ae, Qu. 57.3) believes that other animals are quite capable of sensate fairness but not a deliberative, reasoning kind, so “[n]ow it belongs not only to man but also to other animals to apprehend a thing absolutely: wherefore the right which we call natural, is common to us and other animals according to the first kind of commensuration. But the right of nations falls short of natural rights in this sense, as the jurist says, because the latter is common to all animals, while the former is common to men only.” Aquinas’s way of perceiving how animals act responsively according to basic notions of “natural right” or, in modern parlance, inequity aversion is remarkably contemporary, considering how eventually other animals came to be perceived as more like machines.⁶

Whatever approach is taken to this topic, that is, theological, experimental, or field ethology, a missing aspect of this discussion so far is the recognition that human morality and a sense of justice has evolved within multispecies communities. For millions of years, humanity coevolved with other animals and mutually impacted one another’s evolutionary pathways. Modern societies have forgotten this long lineage of coevolution. Inequity aversion/justice comparisons are still comparative projects, even if they show the futility of maintaining a sharp boundary between humans and other animals. A communitarian approach uses different anthropological tools to study both humans and other animals in their social interactions and reactions. Hence, it is possible to create an ethnoprimatology, ethnoelephantology, etc. Moral rules, and what is fair or just, in each case become worked out in this multispecies context. Although there are still examples of close interactions with other species in some cultural communities, the modern Western world has forgotten the interspecies memory of deep time. The latter therefore reinforces the challenge to dogmatic assertions about human uniqueness. Indeed, I would go as far as to suggest that our distinctiveness is honed through interrelationships with other beings, each of which has their own distinctive way of being in the world.

How “fairness” and “justice” might be worked out in such cross-species relationships in evolutionary terms will be via struggle and negotiation across the specific forms of inequity aversion and justice-making characteristic of the single species but now melded and reshaped by close contact with others in that community.

Deception and Lying

What could be called the shadow side of human morality is also worth considering as a counter to any implication that human moral behaviors are inevitably bound up with the lives of other animals in positive ways. A particularly interesting example that illustrates lines of commonality and distinctiveness is that of deception, common to all animals, and its relationship with lying, uniquely characteristic of humans. According to Jennifer Saul (2012), lying in the first place requires a type of saying, something false needs to be said in order to lie. However, it is not just about saying something false (as in jokes, for example) but more commonly saying something false with an intention for another to believe that what is said is true (Saul 2012, 6–7). It is a type of warranting (Saul 2012, 11).

Biologist Robert Mitchell proposes different levels of deception, beginning with basic mimicry through to behavioral deceptions. Snakes will sometimes feign death, and predatory fireflies mimic the reproductive displays of other species to capture them (Mitchell 1993, 68). In Mitchell’s definition, something like camouflage would not count as deception.

Part of the difficulty of understanding deception biologically is that if deception is common, then it is not obvious why there would be a response. It therefore must be part of a more general system in which “honest” signaling is the norm, as well as means of detecting those who give incorrect information to their own advantage or who “cheat.”

A good example of a common biological deception is false predator alarm calls between birds when feeding: the cost of not responding to a predator is death, while the cost of responding to a false alarm is the temporary loss of food.

Anthropologist Donna Kean and her colleagues have observed important physiological changes among tufted capuchin monkeys, Sapajus nigritis, when making false alarm calls (Kean et al. 2017, 37–46). Vocal production in terrestrial mammals is linked with affective states, and specific calls arise spontaneously, rather like human laughter. However, Kean and associates report behavioral and neurobiological evidence to suggest there is voluntary control over whether to produce an alarm call in each emotional state. So, the emotional state may be necessary but not sufficient on its own to account for such calls. Their results showed that for tufted capuchins observed both in the wild and in captivity, anxiety was a necessary precondition for producing false alarm calls.

In a manner akin to morality and justice, psychologists and evolutionary biologists generally treat different forms of human deception in social communities as natural phenomena to be explained rather than a matter of ethical judgment of right or wrong. The basic ability to deceive others is viewed as a psychological adaptation to learning the demands of living with others in a community (Lewis and Saarni 1993). Deception may be used either for socially approved goals or for reasons that provoke subsequent condemnation or distrust.

There are usually strong psychological motivations behind human deception, so there may be: (a) a fear of being found out because of misdeeds, (b) a sense of threat at another’s dominance, or emotions of envy or greed, or (c) in some cases, a protective or caring desire for vulnerable others (Lewis and Saarni 1993, 7).

As well as these mixed motivations, deception may have different degrees of self-awareness, including self-deception. Lying that is self-aware can take the form of first covering up a misdeed to avoid punishment, interpreted as part of an adaptive strategy in children as young as two years of age (Lewis and Saarni 1993, 9–17). Second, it can be an attempt to gain advantages, such as cheating in school, common from elementary level. Third, it can be a deliberate exaggeration to gain attention, also known as emotional dissemblance, found in children as young as three years of age. Even by five years of age, children can use deception in manipulative ways in order to attract attention or gain other advantages.

Self-illusory deception, where the individual is not aware of that deception, is harder to identify in young children, but there is some evidence that children are capable of it from about seven years. An example would be believing a dead animal will suffocate if it is buried in the ground. Lies are socially binding in the sense that they can bring people together under a common lie. Yet, when directed against others, lies can break into violence. Hannah Arendt’s (1972) analysis of the ineffectiveness of outrage about lying in politics is true to the extent that moral outrage against the racism and misogyny in the case of Trump seems to make very little difference to his popularity.⁷

The Language of Lies

What are the relationships between biologically driven deception and lies? Are lies just exaggerated forms of deception?

Theologian Jesse Couenhoven claims predispositions that seem to be based on deep psychologically driven tendencies amount to social sciences’ support for the idea of original sin. His main point is that even if we cannot help involuntary forms of sin, we are still responsible, and “we should not be too ready to excuse ourselves” (Couenhoven 2013, 3). He argues that the doctrine of original sin, in the light of psychological tendencies towards self-deception, brings empirical plausibility to the doctrine of original sin (Couenhoven 2013, 220).

Couenhoven’s argument is interesting but only adequate if the natural tendency for self-deception is in direct continuity with the basic ground for lying. Augustinian thinking, by prioritizing grace as over against natural tendencies to sin, is ambiguous in so far as it is only “realist” in the manner suggested by Couenhoven in so far as it acknowledges the biological depth of the capacity for sin. Further, even if we agree with the moral importance of truth telling, Augustine’s own absolutist analysis of the evils of lying leads to some troubling ethical conclusions.

Rowan Williams (2014, 1–34) resists the view that the natural sciences are sufficient to capture the meaning of language. He develops the transcendental dimension of language, including the place of silence as part of making meaning (Williams 2014, 156–85). It follows, therefore, that his understanding of language renders a discussion of lying rather different from deception, since it highlights the fact that lying is not simply a matter of lack of correspondence to a given fact but rather subtler: a falsity whereby an active agent bears false witness (Williams 2014, 45).

Could lying also therefore be language free, that is, through a specific and deliberate use of silence? This is theoretically possible in Williams’s scheme, though he does not discuss it; further, the philosophy of language tends to focus on the explicit use of language to deceive as part of the definition of a lie.

There are two different philosophical traditions on lying (MacIntyre 1994). One is broadly based on intention to deceive; here, some lying is permissible depending on motivations or consequences. Aristotle followed this view. While he is generally negative about the permissibility of lying, especially that related to boasting and false humility, he allows for some lies to be morally permissible when they harm no one and when they stem from an excellence rather than a deficiency in character (Zembaty 1993).

The other tradition, followed by Immanuel Kant, is narrower; in this case, lying is never permissible. According to this tradition, the distinction between lying and misleading is significant, and deliberately giving misleading information that is technically not a lie is morally better than acts that tell lies.

A well-known narrative tells of St. Athanasius in disguise being asked by would-be persecutors, “Is Athanasius close at hand?” He replied, “He is not far from here,” He technically did not lie but was deliberately misleading (MacIntyre 1994, 336). Of course, if Athanasius adhered to the first broader tradition on lying, then saying a deliberate lie to save his life would be permissible anyway. The point is that the second tradition goes to extreme lengths not to tell a lie.

Augustine and Aquinas are interesting as they each follow the two different traditions named earlier: Augustine supporting a more absolute stance against lying, and Aquinas modifying that approach and leaning more towards a broader one that countenances some lies are permissible, or, in his case, count as venial rather than mortal sins.

Augustine believes the lie to be a deliberate act of duplicity. So

that man lies, who has one thing in his mind and utters another in words, or by signs of whatever kind. Whence also the heart of him who lies is said to be double; that is, there is a double thought: the one, of that thing which he either knows or thinks to be true and does not produce; the other, of that thing which he produces instead thereof, knowing or thinking it to be false. (Augustine 1887, §3)

Aquinas supports a more flexible approach and extends the broader category of lying as a sin against the truth that applies to communities as well as individuals who act in ways that disguise the truth. So,

just as it is contrary to truth to signify something with words differently than what one has in mind, it is also contrary to truth to use signs of deeds or things to signify the opposite of what is in oneself, and this is properly called dissimulation. Thus dissimulation is properly a lie told through the signification of outward deeds. (Aquinas 2012, 2a2ae, Qu. 3.1)

Aquinas, like Augustine, defines the lie, mendacium, as both saying something false and deceiving someone. He defines the lie as a sin against truthfulness, veritas, so it is always associated with fasitas (Aquinas 2012, 2a2ae, Qu. 110.1).

How far is deceiving related to human lying when considered from a biological perspective? It is worth commenting that biologists still call accurate signaling by animals honest signaling in a way that captures something of what is true about biological relationships. Of course, their own use of language to describe animal behavior is replete with human metaphors. It is often difficult to capture meaning without some resort to human metaphors, that is, anthropomorphic terms. The difference, in the case of human speech, is that humans alone can abstract ideas from situations and in a way that reflects veracity or falsehood. In Aquinas, the ability of the lie to deceive another is not so much intrinsic to the lie but rather its perfection, so a lie that deceives is successful but a lie that does not deceive is still lying. At the lower levels of deception in the biological world, it would not make sense to talk about deception that did not work; it simply would not be registered as deception.

Aquinas’s allowance for moderate lying depends on his categorization of lies into mortal and venial sins. When a lie is about what refers to God, or about the human good in a way opposed to love, then it is a mortal sin. It is also a mortal sin when it intends to harm someone else, either directly or indirectly, as in inciting scandal, for example. Aquinas defines the difference between mortal and venial sin as follows. Mortal sin arises “when the soul is so disordered by sin as to turn away from its last end, viz., God, to Whom it is united by charity, there is mortal sin; but when it is disordered without turning away from God, there is venial sin” (Aquinas 2012, 1a2ae, Qu. 72.5). All other lies are classified as venial sins, that is, they are not classified as against humanity’s end in God.

Aquinas’s more moderate position allows for some lies in some circumstances if the intent behind the lie is that of love rather than harm, such as to protect a child or vulnerable person. In naming lies as sins against God, against the virtue of truth, he also refuses to accept a purely reductionistic explanation for their existence. As with many aspects of the moral life, Aquinas intends to be faithful to Augustine while moderating or qualifying his position. In this respect, it depends on how far venial sins are considered serious in the moral life. By naming such lies sins, of a qualified sort, Aquinas refuses to declare any lie a good. However, distinguishing mortal and venial sins permits a more flexible approach to the moral life that avoids rigidity. Such an approach is also more compatible with what is known about moral psychology. At the same time, given his elevation of the importance of truth, Aquinas refuses to reduce ethics to that psychology. In so far as a lie is always against the sin of truthfulness, it can never be classified as a good. At the same time, by softening the condemnatory approach to all lying characteristic of Augustine’s position, Aquinas’s position takes account the complexity of moral decision-making in difficult or challenging circumstances where to tell a lie would lead to significant harm.

Conclusions

I entitled this article “We See in a Glass Darkly: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Virtue and Vice beyond the Species Boundary.” The premise for this title is that there are always limitations to our understanding but exploring the boundary between humans and other animals in the explicit area of morality, and specific virtues and vices in particular, is illuminating not just for enabling a deeper understanding of both animals and humans but also for the engagement between science and religion. I have tried to illustrate this by reference to what is arguably one of the universal moral norms across cultures—justice—and a universal immoral norm—lying. Of course, I could have discussed contemporary trends towards post-truth, which work against both science and morality, but that would be another article. Justice and lying, I suggest, draw on tendencies found in other animals and go deep into our evolutionary history, especially if we associate justice with fair play. At the same time, human morality becomes considerably more complex, and explicit abilities such as self-deception or lying are unique to humankind. Rather than seeing such negative tendencies as support for the idea of original sin, I prefer to understand this as part of helping explain the origin of sin. Drawing together both scientific and classical Christian thinking means that self-conscious decisions need to be made about what morality means—it is partially illuminated by psychology and evolutionary science but never reduced to it—otherwise, we arrive at a debunking of morality on the basis that moral truth or even justice-making are convenient social norms simply to aid cooperation.

Acknowledgments

After the kind invitation of Dr. Finley Lawson and the organizing committee, a slightly modified version of this article was first delivered as a keynote lecture at the Science and Religion Forum 2023 conference entitled “Humans and Other Animals: Multifaith Responses to the Significance and Symbolism of Animals in Science and Religion Dialogue” held in Cambridge, UK, August 30–31, 2023.