The Singer Solution to World Poverty

“In the end, what is the ethical distinction between a Brazilian who sells a homeless child to organ peddlers and an American who already has a TV and upgrades to a better one—knowing that the money could be donated to an organization that would use it to save the lives of kids in need?” 

Though Singer is fully committed to his position, he initially presents it tentatively and indirectly, including through questions like this one. By so doing, he invites readers to consider the moral implication, establishing a sense of dialogue between text and reader. This question also reveals Singer’s razor-sharp focus on ethics, independent of superficial or pragmatic concerns.

“(I do not believe that children are more worth saving than adults, but since no one can argue that children have brought their poverty on themselves, focusing on them simplifies the issues).” 

Singer’s brief aside, midway through the article, indicates why he focuses on saving children instead of people generally. This is just one of several ways that Singer tries to close every loophole that might give his readers a way to excuse themselves from donating. His belief that adults are just as worth saving as children stems from his utilitarian thinking in which everyone’s wellbeing is weighed equally.

“Now you, too, have the information you need to save a child's life. How should you judge yourself if you don't do it? Think again about Bob and his Bugatti.” 

Singer addresses readers directly, pushing them to either act or justify their inaction. The key to Singer’s argument is the inherent contradiction between the way readers judge others, such as Bob and Dora, and the way they judge themselves. His goal is to provoke a state of cognitive dissonance, in which readers recognize their views as inconsistent.

“[I]t is hard to see how you could deny that it is also very wrong not to send money to one of the organizations listed above. Unless, that is, there is some morally important difference between the two situations that I have overlooked.”

Singer’s tone is alternately passive and aggressive. He admits the possibility that his reasoning is wrong, even as he systematically dismantles readers’ potential objections and pushes them to act. Readers may form an impression of Singer as a logical, somewhat forward speaker.

“Suppose that there were more owners of priceless vintage cars […] all sacrificing the child in order to preserve their own cherished car. Would that make it all right for Bob to do the same? To answer this question affirmatively is to endorse follow-the-crowd ethics—the kind of ethics that led many Germans to look away when the Nazi atrocities were being committed. We do not excuse them because others were behaving no better.” 

Singer’s allusion to Nazi Germany as the embodiment of “follow-the-crowd ethics” places his readers in an uncomfortable situation. Not only does it expose the flaw of such thinking, it also implies similarity between those who fail to donate and the Germans who failed to resist the Nazis. Though many readers would likely consider themselves morally superior to those who went along with Nazi atrocities, Singer’s comparison suggests that they are complicit in a morally equivalent situation.

“I trust that many readers will reach for the phone and donate that $200. Perhaps you should do it before reading further.” 

Singer straight-faced assumption that readers will immediately donate upon being convinced of a moral obligation to do so is not naïve. Instead, it challenges readers to square any view of themselves as living moral lives with their inaction in the moment.

“Since there are a lot of desperately needy children in the world, there will always be another child whose life you could save for another $200. Are you therefore obliged to keep giving until you have nothing left? At what point can you stop?” 

Singer asks questions that invite readers to think through the implications for themselves. At the core of his questions lies an appeal based on what Singer assumes to be a common value shared by his readers: respect for human life. The difficulty Singer faces is in convincing readers to preserve life regardless of the personal price tag. He responds by turning the question back on readers, inviting them to wrestle with the ambiguity themselves.

“When it comes to praising or blaming people for what they do, we tend to use a standard that is relative to some conception of normal behavior. Comfortably off Americans who give, say, 10 percent of their income to overseas aid organizations are so far ahead of most of their equally comfortable fellow citizens that I wouldn't go out of my way to chastise them for not doing more. Nevertheless, they should be doing much more, and they are in no position to criticize Bob for failing to make the much greater sacrifice of his Bugatti.” 

Singer suggests that judgment by comparison to others’ behavior is a flawed basis for determining morality. Instead, morality exists independent of average or normal behavior. Thus, even those who give a relatively large proportion of their money to worthwhile causes fall short of Singer’s ideal absolute standard.

“While the idea that no one need do more than his or her fair share is a powerful one, should it prevail if we know that others are not doing their fair share and that children will die preventable deaths unless we do more than our fair share? That would be taking fairness too far.” 

Here, Singer rejects the argument that a person should only give their hypothetical fair share as a donation, consistent with what they would give if everyone donated. Just as earlier, he showed little concern for what is normal, here, that subpar normality becomes a reason to commit to a higher standard. Instead of using others’ negligence as an excuse, we ought to compensate by giving even more, as much as we can afford to.

“That's right: I'm saying that you shouldn't buy that new car, take that cruise, redecorate the house or get that pricey new suit. After all, a $1,000 suit could save five children's lives.”

Singer shows awareness of the things that his middle- and upper-class readers are likely to hold dear. By converting the price of one such luxury item directly into the number of lives saved, Singer vividly actualizes the choice between consuming and donating. The simplicity of trading one action for the other mirrors Bob’s situation, where he had only to flip a switch to save a child.

“Again, the formula is simple: whatever money you're spending on luxuries, not necessities, should be given away.” 

Singer restates his central claim so simply that it is impossible to misunderstand. To some extent, he may even oversimplify it: the line between “luxuries” and “necessities” may not always be as clear as he implies it to be. For the purposes of this article, however, clarity and directness are paramount. Singer simply wants to prove, at least in theory, that those who make more money than they need to survive should distribute the excess to those who otherwise might not survive.

“Now, evolutionary psychologists tell us that human nature just isn't sufficiently altruistic to make it plausible that many people will sacrifice so much for strangers. On the facts of human nature, they might be right, but they would be wrong to draw a moral conclusion from those facts.” 

Singer’s article might appear highly unusual to readers of The New York Times, where most opinion pieces address what is realistically achievable under a given set of political circumstances. With his philosophical background, Singer quickly distinguishes what is morally correct from what is practical. The risk of his approach is that readers may find his claims so extreme that they disregard them entirely, as (apart from quote 14, below) Singer shows little interest in moderate approaches.

“If we don't do it, then we should at least know that we are failing to live a morally decent life—not because it is good to wallow in guilt but because knowing where we should be going is the first step toward heading in that direction.” 

Singer finally appears to seek middle ground when he acknowledges the likeliest outcome for most readers. They may not immediately donate huge sums, but they can and should be more aware of their burden to choose. His conceptualization of this awareness as a “first step” indicates to readers that there is lots of work to be done.