Sunstein and I spoke last week about the cause of climate justice, the philosophy of “moral cosmopolitanism” and the very uncertain fate of the federal bureaucracy under Trump 2.0. Here is our conversation, which was edited for length and clarity:
In the book, you write, “Here is my starting point: Each person should be counted equally, no matter where they live, and no matter when they live.” That might strike many people as somewhat radical, especially given how much we seem to be moving away from principles of universality and mutual obligation.
Yes, I feel a little bit like writing this book was like writing a celebration of folk music the day after Dylan went electric. The timing is a little less than perfect.
Or it could be perversely perfect.
Well, folk music is really good.
But moral cosmopolitanism also has multiple forms. The less provocative form is simply that one nation should not harm another: If Canada emits pollution that hurts people in Maine and Vermont, there’s no question that Canada has violated moral requirements. And if Mexico starts throwing poison in the air, and that starts killing people in Texas, and we tell them to stop — we’re not asking for foreign aid, we’re asking them to stop throwing poison on Texans. That form of cosmopolitanism, which suggests inflicting harm on one’s neighbors is a wrong — I think that’s alive and well.
But there are other forms. One would suggest that, if people are dying in a nation and we can help them at modest cost, we ought to do that. An even stronger version would suggest that for purposes of practical policy as opposed to abstract theory people in other nations count as much as people at home. But that’s a very bold claim to make, and I wouldn’t make it.
Even the weak version, that we shouldn’t harm others — are we so sure that is alive and well? Ten years ago, you could tell a story in which, over centuries, our circle of empathy had expanded outward. But now? Just look at JD Vance fighting with the pope about what Christians owe to the world.
