It is ethically justifiable, or you don't at the least deserve any ethical justification, to help something because it's cute, because we respond to cuteness immediately. (Why? Because cuteness is an evolved trait that registers as helplessness for the animal or person we perceive as cute.)
I think if you use this assumption, you see that a whole freaking lot of what people do really isn't ethically motivated, because it isn't motivated by doing the right thing, but rather because, if something that's cute involuntarily invites our supportiveness, it therefore means we have no credit for actually ethically "working" for it.
What does it mean to ethically "work" for something? To do the right thing against the grain; doing the right thing ethically always means some degree of work or unpleasantness. How do we respond to things that are cute? Involuntarily with a sense of support; we can't help but support, and couldn't live with ourselves if we didn't support, the cute thing.
And you see this a lot. Denis Leary joked about how people are all about saving the fish, but this is only the really cute fish. Or take babies. They're really cute, so that makes being motivated to help them incredibly easier, or at least harder not to do, than if you were to help a baby that looked like, I don't know, a grown-up version of my uncle David. Am I saying that mothers of ugly babies don't help them? Not at all. I'm saying that any mother, or any person at all especially, deserves credit for helping a cute baby (or anything at all, animal or human) insofar as the cuteness response is exhausted or isn't a factor. It's a totally different thing to help a baby because it's cute, and another to help it because it's a baby who needs help, you know.
Conclusion: the people who want to save cute animals deserve very little, if any, ethical justification, because their motivation is basically necessary -- they couldn't not respond with a good conscience, at the very least. In a sense, then, cuteness prevents us from becoming fully ethical (given that ethics involves work, putting forth effort, and responding to cuteness involves no effort, the effort being done for us as it were), but it also offers us a chance to become ethical, given that anything cute that we come across for more than just a passing glance will have its cuteness exhausted the longer we're relating to it. Ask any mom this; don't matter how cute her baby is, she's still there in the middle of the night when a screaming baby is sounding like the very opposite of cute.
I, for one, think the most ethical people are the ones who deal with not-so-cute people the most voluntarily. Even if that means looking in the mirror.
I think if you use this assumption, you see that a whole freaking lot of what people do really isn't ethically motivated, because it isn't motivated by doing the right thing, but rather because, if something that's cute involuntarily invites our supportiveness, it therefore means we have no credit for actually ethically "working" for it.
What does it mean to ethically "work" for something? To do the right thing against the grain; doing the right thing ethically always means some degree of work or unpleasantness. How do we respond to things that are cute? Involuntarily with a sense of support; we can't help but support, and couldn't live with ourselves if we didn't support, the cute thing.
And you see this a lot. Denis Leary joked about how people are all about saving the fish, but this is only the really cute fish. Or take babies. They're really cute, so that makes being motivated to help them incredibly easier, or at least harder not to do, than if you were to help a baby that looked like, I don't know, a grown-up version of my uncle David. Am I saying that mothers of ugly babies don't help them? Not at all. I'm saying that any mother, or any person at all especially, deserves credit for helping a cute baby (or anything at all, animal or human) insofar as the cuteness response is exhausted or isn't a factor. It's a totally different thing to help a baby because it's cute, and another to help it because it's a baby who needs help, you know.
Conclusion: the people who want to save cute animals deserve very little, if any, ethical justification, because their motivation is basically necessary -- they couldn't not respond with a good conscience, at the very least. In a sense, then, cuteness prevents us from becoming fully ethical (given that ethics involves work, putting forth effort, and responding to cuteness involves no effort, the effort being done for us as it were), but it also offers us a chance to become ethical, given that anything cute that we come across for more than just a passing glance will have its cuteness exhausted the longer we're relating to it. Ask any mom this; don't matter how cute her baby is, she's still there in the middle of the night when a screaming baby is sounding like the very opposite of cute.
I, for one, think the most ethical people are the ones who deal with not-so-cute people the most voluntarily. Even if that means looking in the mirror.