great point -- I think I largely agree -- but there may, still, be some disanalogy between the two cases (the Irish legend v. 'God') -- namely once you begin describing God's various attributes (omnipotence, creator, goodness, etc.) then it may well be plausible to seek independent/direct evidence of his existence in the world around you, independent that is of the 'source' of the 'tale' itself -- and that might not be equally true, or true to the same degree, as in the Irish legend case -- after all, you may not need to know who thought of the idea of a 'Creator' God first in order to evaluate, perfectly rationally, whether the world around us exhibits any evidence of intelligent design or creation -- of course, when you do learn more about the 'source' of the idea of God that may increase your skepticism about the truth of the claim that God exists, but it does seem to me that claim may also be evaluable independently of its sources --

best,

Andrew

Good questions! I've been a vegetarian for 38 years and believe that humans should not kill animals for food, clothing or sport. One way to think about this is to ask what it is that makes life valuable. Some think that life itself is valuable, but that isn't plausible given that plants are alive and it doesn't seem to be morally wrong to weed your garden.

Another possibility is that what makes life valuable is sentience. If that's true, then sentient animals (and not plants) would have a moral claim on us, insofar as we have a duty to protect what is valuable. (Though one needs to ask here: what is our duty to protect what is valuable? How far does that duty extend? Are there different sorts of value, some of which have a greater claim on us than others?)

Even if sentience is valuable, however, some argue that humans have capacities that are more valuable still, such as the ability to reason, to value things, to create systems of norms, even morality itself. A challenge arises here, however, since most people would argue that human beings have equal moral standing, but of course they aren't equal in their abilities to reason, or as you mention, in their intelligence. So what gives humans their special value must be something that humans, qua humans, have, such as being of a kind that has a potential to reason, value, and such. Otherwise, we would have a lesser duty to protect infants, the developmentally disabled, the brain injured, etc. The idea is that this potential doesn't come in degrees, but comes with being a member of a certain kind, the human kind, and possibly kinds of more advanced rational, valuing beings we haven't met yet. If what makes life (most) valuable is this capacity, however, then more advanced beings wouldn't have a greater right to live because they would share this valuable capacity with us.

Even if we allow that humans are more valuable than animals, however, it doesn't follow that humans have a right to kill animals to eat them or wear their skin, or torture them in order to pursue knowledge for its own sake. As long as we grant that sentience is valuable, we may have a duty to protect animals from unnecessary pain and suffering. To the extent that we can argue that animals have interests (e.g., not to be killed, to live a life appropriate to their species), it is plausible that they have a moral claim on us to respect those interests. These are just the first moves in the discussion, however, since many are keen to defend human killing of animals as morally permissible. Michael Pollan has an essay, "An Animal's Place" in the New York Times, Nov. 10, 2002 that is worth reading as a next step.

It's an interesting question, and to answer it, I'm inclined to turn things around. Let's start with what's clear: the fact that the rapist committed the rape seven years ago (supposing for the moment that this is the magic number) isn't a reason to let him off. In fact, the very way you pose the question makes the point. You ask about "the rapist" who committed "his crime" long ago. You've already take it for granted that we can say: this man is the one who committed the crime. And we can say it without worrying about how many cells have come and gone.

So yes: there is something more -- or something other -- to the notion of a person than just the idea of a collection of cells. The something needn't be anything spooky. After all, a corporation can exist for a hundred years, even though all the people have changed and all the buildings and equipment it owns have gradually been replaced. Although saying exactly what sameness amounts to here is complicated, it won't call for talking about anything strange. It will be a matter of various continuities and connections among perfectly ordinary agents, entities and events.

In fact, the word "agent" gives us a clue to the case of persons. John Locke famously observed that 'person' is a forensic notion. What he meant was that personhood has to do with accountability, agency and the like. To decide whether it makes sense to hold this human being accountable for what a certain human being did twenty years ago isn't a question that we approach by reviewing the history of the cells in his body, and someone who thought it did would show that they don't understand what was being asked.

Once again, detailed account will be complicated. But we can say at least this: when we ask whether a human being at one time is the same person as a human being at another time, we're asking about various kinds of connections and continuities. And what seems clear is that there can be enough of the right sorts of connections and continuities even if the cells that make up the present body are not the ones that made up the one from long ago.

And one might add that the cells themselves are hardly immune from "renewal" at the molecular level. So the short version is: If identity requires complete coincidence of matter, then essentially nothing but sub-atomic particles survive over any reasonable stretch of time. That does rather suggest, though the contrary view is certainly held, that identity over time simply does not require complete coincidence of matter. What it does require is not very clear, but that is no reason to despair.

Of course, the question didn't ask about complete coincidence of matter. But it's unclear why anything less might suffice. And, if it does, then you run into issues about transitivity: A might share much of its matter with B, which shares much of its matter with C; but A and C do not share much of their matter.

I hope Jennifer Church will also answer this one. But I don't quite see why the decision to commit suicide must be based upon the fallacy of thinking that one will be better off. The value of eliminating something bad does not have to derive from some (other) benefit achieved in the process. (See step (C) in the argument below.)

(A) S's life now involves unbearable and irremediable pain and/or suffering of some other sort.

(B) If the life is ended, so will the pain and/or suffering of some other sort.

(C) Ending unbearable and irremediable pain and/or suffering of some other sort is at least sometimes a good reason to do something.

Hence, (D) There can be a good reason to end a life of unbearable pain and/or suffering of some other sort.

I see nothing in this argument that presupposes the fallacy you mention--for example, it is not assumed that by ending the pain and/or suffering of some other sort that the one whose pain or suffering has been ended will be "better off." As you say, they won't be "better off," they will simply be gone. But the pain or suffering will also be gone, and that's not such a bad thing.