Welcoming	Robots	into	the	Moral	Circle: A	Defence	of	Ethical	Behaviourism By	John	Danaher (pre-publication	draft	of	a	paper	forthcoming	in	Science	and	Engineering	Ethics) Abstract:	Can	robots	have	significant	moral	status?	This	is	an	emerging	topic	of debate	among	roboticists	and	ethicists.	This	paper	makes	three	contributions	to	this debate.	First,	it	presents	a	theory	–	'ethical	behaviourism'	–	which	holds	that	robots	can have	significant	moral	status	if	they	are	roughly	performatively	equivalent	to	other entities	that	have	significant	moral	status.	This	theory	is	then	defended	from	seven objections.	Second,	taking	this	theoretical	position	onboard,	it	is	argued	that	the performative	threshold	that	robots	need	to	cross	in	order	to	be	afforded	significant moral	status	may	not	be	that	high	and	that	they	may	soon	cross	it	(if	they	haven't	done so	already).	Finally,	the	implications	of	this	for	our	procreative	duties	to	robots	are considered,	and	it	is argued	that	we	may	need	to	take	seriously	a	duty	of	'procreative beneficence'	towards	robots. Keywords:	Robots;	Moral	Status;	Moral	Standing;	Ethical	Behaviourism;	Procreative Beneficence Introduction A	debate	has	arisen	about	the	moral	and	ethical	status	of	robots	(Gunkel	2018b).	Do they	or	could	they	have	significant	moral	status?	This	article	makes	three	contributions to	this	debate.	First,	it	presents	and	defends	a	theory	-called	'ethical	behaviourism'	- which	holds	that	robots	can	have	significant	moral	status	if	they	are	roughly performatively	equivalent	to	other	entities	that	are	commonly	agreed	to	have	significant moral	status.	An	argument	is	presented	in	favour	of	this	theory	and	it	is	then	defended from	seven	objections.	Second,	taking	this	theory	onboard,	the	article	asks	the	obvious question:	what	kind	of	performative	threshold	must	robots	cross	in	order	to	be	afforded significant	moral	status?	Using	analogies	with	entities	to	whom	we	already	afford significant	moral	status,	it	is	argued	that	the	performative	threshold	may	be	quite	low 2 and	that	robots	may	cross	it	soon	(if	not	already).	Third,	and	finally,	the	article considers	the	consequences	of	this	for	our	procreative	duties1	to	robots. Some	readers	of	this	article	may	already	accept	the	thesis	it	defends;	some	may	be more	skeptical.	At	the	outset,	it	is	important	to	speak	to	two	of	the	potentially	skeptical audiences.	The	first	audience	consists	of	those	who	think	that	the	position	defended	is counterintuitive	and	absurd.	Members	of	this	audience	are	unlikely	to	be	convinced	by the	end.	But	the	goal	is	not	to	fully	convince	them.	It	is,	instead,	to	open	a	dialogue	with them	and	present	a	view	that	might	encourage	them	to	question	their	current theoretical	commitments.	The	second	audience	consists	in	those	who	think	that	what	is argued	in	this	article	is	plausible	but	not	particularly	novel.	Members	of	this	audience will	note	that	several	authors	have	already	defended	the	claim	that	we	should	take	the moral	status	of	robots	seriously	(e.g.	Gunkel	2018a	&	2018b;	Coeckelbergh	2012; Sparrow	2004	&	2012;	Levy	2009;	Neely	2014;	Schwitzgebel	and	Garza	2015).	The	debt to	these	authors	is	fully	acknowledged.	Where	the	present	article	differs	from	them	is	in (a)	articulating	a	distinctive	theoretical	basis	for	this	view;	(b)	defending	this	theory from	a	wide	range	of	objections;	and	(c)	pursuing	more	fully	its	practical	consequences. The	emphasis,	consequently,	should	be	less	on	the	conclusions	that	are	reached	(though they	are	important),	and	more	on	the	means	by	which	they	are	reached.	In	this	respect, the	article	should	not	be	interpreted	as	defending	a	particular	view	as	to	whether robots	currently	can	or	should	have	moral	status;	rather,	it	should	be	interpreted	as defending	a	particular	view	as	to	how	we	ought	to	resolve	that	question. The	Sophia	Controversy	and	the	Argument	in	Brief To	set	up	the	argument	it	is	worth	considering	a	real-world	controversy.	Doing	so illustrates	that	the	issues	addressed	in	this	article	are	not	of	merely	academic	concern; they	have	immediate	practical	relevance.	The	controversy	concerns	one	of	the	most widely-discussed	social	robots	of	recent	years:	the	Sophia	robot	from	Hanson	Robotics. Sophia	is	visually	human-like	in	'her'	facial	appearance,	gesture	and	voice.	She	has animatronics	that	enable	her	to	recreate	subtle	gestures,	including	raised	eyebrows, 1 The term 'duty' is used in this paper in a sense that is interchangeable with cognate terms such as 'responsibility' or 'obligation'. It used to denote a normative requirement or restriction placed on someone's conduct that means that this conduct is not a matter of personal preference but is, rather, ethically mandated. 3 smiles	and	smirks.	At	the	time	of	writing,	her	other	human-like	attributes,	particularly conversation	and	locomotion,	are	more	limited.2 Sophia	has	proved	controversial	among	roboticists	because	of	an	incident	that occurred	on	the	25th	of	October,	2017	at	the	Future	Investment	Initiative	Conference	in Riyadh,	Saudi	Arabia.	In	what	many	feel	to	be	a	marketing	stunt,	Sophia	was	granted Saudi	Arabian	citizenship	(Stone	2017).3	This	led	to	a	plethora	of	online	criticism.	For example,	the	AI-ethicist	Joanna	Bryson	argued	that	the	gesture	was	insulting	given	that the	Saudi	Arabian	government	does	not	recognise	the	full	rights	of	many	human	beings, particularly	women	and	migrant	workers	(Vincent	2017).	Others	argued	that	there	was no	rational	justification	for	the	move,	given	the	current	abilities	of	Sophia.	Sarah	Porter, founder	of	the	World	AI	Summit,	on	January	10th	2018,	underscored	the	absurdity	of	it all	by	saying	that	she	was	'dressing	[her]	smartphone	up	in	a	dress,	calling	it	Isobel	and teaching	it	to	walk'	and	wondering	whether	she	could	also,	consequently,	'have coverage	at	all	major	tech	news	channels	please?'.4 Comments	like	this	pose	a	challenge	for	anyone	claiming	that	robots	could	have significant	moral	status.	They	suggest	that	performative	artifice	by	itself	cannot	suffice for	moral	status.	Dressing	a	machine	up	in	a	human-like	body,	and	making	it	look	and act	like	a	human,	cannot	be	enough	to	ground	its	moral	status.	Something	more	is required,	probably	some	internal	mental	apparatus	(or	'soul')	that	enables	the	robot	to feel,	think,	and	see	the	world	in	a	similar	fashion	to	us.	Writing	in	a	different	context, specifically	in	response	to	claims	that	we	could	have	loving	relationships	with	robots, Nyholm	and	Frank	make	this	point	by	arguing	that	what	'goes	on	"on	the	inside"	matters greatly'	(2017,	223)	when	it	comes	to	determining	the	ethical	status	of	our	relationships with	robots. This	article	rejects	this	view.	It	argues	that	what's	going	on	'on	the	inside'	does	not matter	from	an	ethical	perspective.	Performative	artifice,	by	itself,	can	be	sufficient	to ground	a	claim	of	moral	status	as	long	as	the	artifice	results	in	rough	performative 2 To see what Sophia is like go to https://www.hansonrobotics.com/sophia/ 3 As Gunkel 2018b, p 116 points out, the gesture was not completely unprecedented. The Japanese have recognized a non-legal kind of robot citizenship in the past for artificial creatures such as Paro (the robotic seal). 4 Porter's tweet is available at: https://twitter.com/SColesPorter/status/951042066561323008 (accessed 10/7/2018) 4 equivalency	between	a	robot	and	another	entity	to	whom	we	afford	moral	status.	The argument	works	like	this:5 (1)	If	a	robot	is	roughly	performatively	equivalent	to	another	entity	whom,	it	is widely	agreed,	has	significant	moral	status,	then	it	is	right	and	proper	to	afford	the robot	that	same	status. (2)	Robots	can	be	roughly	performatively	equivalent	to	other	entities	whom,	it	is widely	agreed,	have	significant	moral	status. (3)	Therefore,	it	can	be	right	and	proper	to	afford	robots	significant	moral	status. The	terminology	requires	clarification.	If	an	entity	has	'moral	status'	then	it	has	moral standing	and	considerability	(Jaworska	and	Tannenbaum	2018;	Gruen	2017).	Our treatment	of	that	entity	is	not	a	matter	of	mere	preference.	There	are	ethical,	not	merely practical,	limits	to	how	we	can	treat	it.	If	the	entity	has	'significant'	moral	status	then those	limits	may	be	quite	strict:	we	will	not	be	allowed	to	mistreat	or	harm	the	entity without	some	overriding	moral	justification.	Having	moral	status	does	not	mean	that the	entity	has	legal	status	nor	legal	rights,	at	least	not	necessarily.	There	is	a	connection between	legal	status	and	moral	status,	but	the	practical	justiciability	of	legal	rights	is often	a	relevant	consideration	when	it	comes	to	recognising	those	rights	in	another entity	(Bryson	et	al	2017).	Granting	Sophia	citizenship	rights,	for	instance,	is	not required	simply	because	we	think	she	has	significant	moral	status	(if	we	do	think	that). This	is	important	because	the	argument	being	defended	in	this	article	is	not	concerned with	the	legal	rights	of	robots	vis-a-vis	humans	but,	rather,	the	ethical	duties	of	humans vis-a-vis	robots. What	kinds	of	ethical	duties	might	humans	owe	to	robots	on	the	basis	of	this argument?	This	depends	on	the	kinds	of	duties	owed	to	the	entities	with	whom	robots are	being	performatively	compared.	The	argument	works	off	a	principle	of	analogy:	if 5 The argument has some similarities with the 'no-relevant-difference' argument presented by Schwitzgebel and Garza (2015). But their argument is not grounded in the behaviourist view and is open to multiple possible understandings of a 'relevant difference'. It also encourages the search for disconfirming evidence over confirming evidence. 5 case	A	is	like	case	B	(in	all	important	respects)	then	they	should	be	treated	alike.	So,	for example,	if	animals	are	owed	certain	moral	duties	–	e.g.	not	to	be	mistreated	or subjected	to	needless	cruelty	–	and	if	robots	are	roughly	performatively	equivalent	to animals,	then,	following	this	argument,	robots	are	owed	equivalent	duties.	What	that means	in	practice	depends	on	what	cruelty	or	mistreatment	consists	in	but,	for	example, there	may	be	a	duty	not	to	physically	damage	a	robot,	or	erase	its	memories,	or	switch	it off	without	an	overriding	moral	justification. The	other	bit	of	terminology	that	needs	clarification	is	that	of	'rough	performative equivalency'.	This	means	that	if	a	robot	consistently	behaves	like	another	entity	to whom	we	afford	moral	status,	then	it	should	be	granted	the	same	moral	status.	So	if	a robot	consistently	behaves	as	if	it	is	in	pain,	and	if	the	capacity	to	feel	pain	is	a	ground	of moral	status,	then	a	robot	should	be	granted	the	same	moral	status	as	any	other	entity to	whom	we	ascribe	moral	status	on	the	grounds	that	they	can	feel	pain.	This	is	what	it means	to	say	that	performative	equivalency	provides	sufficient	ground	for	equal	moral status. It	is	worth	noting	that	the	modifier	'rough'	is	included	in	recognition	of	the	fact	that no	two	entities	with	moral	status	are	ever	exactly	performatively	equivalent.	For example,	there	will	be	a	variety	of	performative	differences	between	any	two	randomlyselected	human	beings:	they	will	look	slightly	different,	they	will	have	different	careers, different	beliefs,	different	habits	and	so	on.	None	of	this	means	that	they	do	not	share significant	moral	status.	There	is	enough	rough	equivalence	for	that	property	to	be shared.	This	means	that	a	robot	need	not	look	or	behave	exactly	like	another	entity	to whom	we	afford	moral	status	in	order	for	it	to	be	afforded	the	same	moral	status.	It	is enough	if	it	displays	most	of	the	relevant	performative	cues	in	similar	circumstances. It is	important	to	emphasise	this	point	now	because	some	people	might	see	the	inclusion of	the	modifier	'rough'	in	the	motivating	premise	of	the	argument	as	an	attempt	to	stack the	deck	in	favour	of	the	view	that	robots	can	have	significant	moral	status.	This	is	not the	case.	The	idea	that	'rough'	performative	equivalency	is	all	that	is	required	has independent	validity. 6 That's	enough	by	way	of	initial	clarification.	It	is	now	time	to	defend	the	two	main premises	of	the	argument. Defending	Premise	(1):	The	Case	for	Ethical	Behaviourism The	case	for	premise	(1)	depends	on	a	theory	that	is	here	called	'ethical behaviourism'.	Variations	of	this	theory	are	hinted	at	in	the	writings	of	others	(Sparrow 2004	&	2012;	Levy	2009;	Neely	2014)	but	it	is	believed	that	this	article	is	the	first	to explicitly	name	it,	and	provide	an	extended	defence	of	it. To	understand	this	theory,	it	is	important	to	consider	the	similarities	and dissimilarities	between	it	and	the	classic	methodological	and	ontological	forms	of behaviourism.	Behaviourist	psychologists	like	John	Watson	and	BF	Skinner	favoured	a methodological	form	of	behaviourism.	They	thought	it	was	scientifically	improper	for psychologists	to	postulate	unobservable	inner	mental	states	to	explain	why	humans	and animals	act	the	way	they	do.	They	felt	that	psychologists	should	concern	themselves strictly	with	measurable,	observable	behavioural	patterns	(Graham	2015). Methodological	behaviourism	is	what	underlies	the	classic	Turing	Test	for	machine intelligence:	Turing	argued	that	we	cannot	observe	the	inner	mental	states	that	people think	are	constitutive	of	intelligence;	all	we	can	ever	do	is	make	inferences	from observable	behaviours	(Turing	1950).	As	a	methodological	stance,	behaviourism	has much	to	recommend	to	it.	Indeed,	contemporary	cognitive	scientists,	who	are	often	said to	have	ditched	behaviourism,	are	still	behaviouristic	in	their	methods.	They	still	focus on	recording	and	analysing	external,	measurable	behaviour	and	brain	phenomena,	not inner	mental	states.	They	are	just	willing	to	hypothesise	inner	mental	states	to	explain those	external	phenomena. This	methodological	behaviourism	should	be	contrasted	with	ontological behaviourism.	Behaviourist	philosophers,	like	Gilbert	Ryle,	once	claimed	that	named mental	states	were	really	just	abbreviations	for	sets	of	behaviours	(Graham	2015).	They argued	that	a	statement	like	'I	believe	X'	was	just	a	shorthand	way	of	saying	'I	will	assert X	in	context	Y',	'I	will	perform	action	A	in	pursuit	of	X	in	context	Z'	and	so	on.	The mental,	according	to	them,	could	be	ontologically	reduced	to	the	behavioural. 7 Ethical	behaviourism	is	an	application	of	methodological	behaviourism,	not ontological	behaviourism,	to	the	ethical	domain.	Ethical	behaviourism	states	that	a sufficient	epistemic	ground	or	warrant	for	believing	that	we	have	duties	and responsibilities	toward	other	entities	(or	that	they	have	rights	against	us)	can	be	found in	their	observable	behavioural	relations	and	reactions	to	us	(and	to	the	world	around them).	It	is	the	ethical	equivalent	of	the	Turing	Test	(Sparrow	2004	&	2012).	It	is	a normative	and	epistemic	thesis,	not	a	metaphysical	one.	To	be	an	ethical	behaviourist one	does	not	have	to	deny	the	existence	of	inner	mental	states,	nor	deny	that	those inner	mental	states	provide	the	ultimate	metaphysical	ground	for	our	ethical	principles. Take	consciousness/sentience	as	an	example.	Many	people	believe	that	humans	and animals	have	moral	status	because	they	are	sentient.	An	ethical	behaviourist	can	accept this.	They	can	agree	that	sentience	provides	the	ultimate	metaphysical	warrant	for	our duties	to	animals	and	humans.	They	just	then	modify	this	by	arguing	that	a	sufficient epistemic	warrant	for	believing	in	the	existence	of	this	metaphysical	property	can	be derived	from	an	entity's	observable	behavioural	patterns.	In	other	words,	they	will argue	that	a	behaviourist	epistemology	constrains	how	we	identify	and	apply	the metaphysical	properties	relevant	to	moral	status. Why	should	one	favour	ethical	behaviourism?	The	obvious	reason	is	that	it	respects our	epistemic	limits.	Although	he	may	not	agree	with	ethical	behaviourism,	6	Kant provided	one	of	the	clearest	articulations	of	these	limits.	He	argued	that	we	never	have epistemic	access	to	the	metaphysical	properties	of	the	thing-in-itself;	we	only	ever	have access	to	its	representations	toward	us.	These	representations	may	be	used	to	infer	the existence	of	certain	metaphysical	properties,	but	those	properties	cannot	be epistemically	grounded	in	direct	contact	with	them:	our	contact	with	them	is	always mediated	through	representations.	Ethical	behaviourism	argues	that	these	limits	carry over	into	practical	ethics.	Many	principles	concerning	the	moral	status	of	others	depend 6 Kant was famously unwilling to accept that animals had moral status and drew a sharp distinction between practical reason (from which he derived his moral views) and theoretical reason (from which he derived his epistemological/metaphysical views). But others who have adopted a Kantian approach to philosophy have been more open to expanding the moral circle, e.g. Schopenhauer (on this see Puryear 2017). It is also worth noting, in passing, that the position adopted in the text has another affinity with Kantianism in that, just as Kant tended to reduce the metaphysical to the epistemological, ethical behaviourism tends to reduces the ethical to the epistemological. The author is indebted to an anonymous reviewer and Sven Nyholm for helping him to understand how Kant's reasoning relates to the argument defended in the text. 8 on	metaphysical	properties	that	cannot	be	directly	assessed.	For	example,	the	most popular	theories	of	moral	status	claim	that	it	is	because	we	think	others	are	conscious, or	have	high	level	cognitive	capacities,	or	are	persons	and	have	interests,	that	we	owe them	certain	duties.7	The	ethical	behaviourist	points	out	that	our	ability	to	ascertain	the existence	of	each	and	every	one	of	these	metaphysical	properties	is	ultimately dependent	on	some	inference	from	a	set	of	behavioural	representations.	Behaviour	is then,	for	practical	purposes,	the	only	insight	we	have	into	the	metaphysical	grounding for	moral	status. The	concept	of	'behaviour'	should	be	interpreted	broadly.	It	is	not	limited	to	external physical	behaviours	(i.e..	the	movement	of	limbs	and	lips);	it	includes	all	external observable	patterns,	including	functional	operations	of	the	brain.	This	might	seem contradictory,	but	it	is	not.	Brain	states	are	directly	observable	and	recordable;	mental states	are	not.	Even	in	cognitive	neuroscience	few	people	think	that	observations	of	the brain	are	directly	equivalent	to	observations	of	mental	states.	They	may	well	infer correlations	between	those	brain	patterns	and	mental	states,	but	they	verify	those correlations	through	other	behavioural	measures.	For	example,	when	a	neuroscientist says	that	a	particular	pattern	of	brain	activity	correlates	with	the	mental	state	of pleasure,	they	work	this	out	by	asking	someone	in	a	brain	scanner	what	they	are	feeling when	this	pattern	of	activity	is	observed.	They	bootstrap	from	the	behavioural	to	the mental	to	the	neural.	This	primacy	of	the	behavioural	is	often	overlooked	in	popular conversations	about	cognitive	neuroscience	(Hare	and	Vincent	2016;	Pardo	&	Patterson 2012;	Bennett	&	Hacker	2003;	Bennett,	Dennett,	Hacker	&	Searle	2007). In	short,	then,	the	reason	why	one	should	accept	ethical	behaviourism	is	that	it	is	an essential	feature	of	day-to-day	ethical	practice:	inferences	from	behaviour	are	the primary	and	most	important	source	of	knowledge	about	the	moral	status	of	others;	if we	did	not	rely	on	these	inferences,	the	identification	and	protection	of	moral	status would	be	impractical. 7 For a comprehensive discussion of the potential metaphysical grounds for moral status, see Jaworska and Tannenbaum 2018. For specific discussions of consciousness, preference-satisfaction and personhood as grounds of moral status see Sebo 2018; Singer 2009; Regan 1983; and Warren 2000. For a discussion of the moral foundations of rights see Sumner 1987 and, as applied to robot rights, Gunkel 2018b. 9 To	be	clear,	this	is	not	an	empirical	thesis.	The	claim	is	not	that	everyone	is,	as	a matter	of	fact,	an	ethical	behaviourist.	There	are	surely	people	who	would	disavow	this view.	It	is,	rather,	a	philosophical	thesis.	It	claims	that	there	are	practical	epistemic limits	to	how	ethical	principles	can	be	applied.	These	limits	apply	whether	people	are aware	of	them	or	willing	to	acknowledge	them.	To	put	it	another	way,	ethical behaviourism	is	a	normative	and	meta-empirical	thesis	that:	(a)	tells	us	something about	the	kinds	of	empirical	evidence	that	can	be	relied	upon	when	thinking	about moral	status;	and	(b)	how	that	evidence	ought	to	be	interpreted. To	make	this	more	concrete,	consider	the	following	example.	Philosophers	of consciousness	often	talk	about	the	possible	existence	of	philosophical	zombies	(e.g. Chalmers	1996).	These	are	entities	that	look	and	act	like	human	beings	but	have	none	of the	inner	phenomenal	conscious	experiences	of	human	beings.	Assume,	for	the	sake	of argument,	that	the	capacity	to	have	phenomenally	conscious	experiences	is	the	sine	qua non	of	moral	status.	Then	ask:	how	should	we	ethically	treat	a	philosophical	zombie? The	ethical	behaviourist	answers	that	we	should	treat	them	the	same	as	any	ordinary human	being.	If	a	zombie	looks	and	acts	like	an	ordinary	human	being	then	there	is	no reason	to	think	it	does	not	share	the	same	moral	status.	Ought	implies	can	and,	apart from	the	outward	behavioural	signs,	there	is	no	way	to	confirm	or	deny	the	presence	of phenomenal	states	in	others.	So	if	phenomenal	consciousness	is	to	provide	a	practicable ground	for	moral	status,	it	must	be	because	it	is	cashed	out	in	behavioural	terms.8	It	is	in this	(epistemic)	sense	that	what	is	going	on	"on	the	inside"	does	not	matter	from	an ethical	perspective.	But	this	is	an	ethical	conclusion	only;	nothing	further	is	implied about	the	actual	metaphysical	nature	of	phenomenal	consciousness.9 8 An anonymous reviewer asks: what if it was a confirmed zombie? The ethical behaviourist would respond that this is an impossible hypothetical: one could not have confirmatory evidence of a kind that would suffice to undermine the behavioural evidence. 9 One potential consequence of ethical behaviourism is that it should make us more skeptical of theories of moral status that purport to rely on highly uncertain or difficult to know properties. For example, some versions of sentientism hold an entity can be sentient without displaying any outward signs of sentience. But if this is correct, radical uncertainty about moral status might result since there is no behavioural evidence that could be pointed to that could confirm or disconfirm sentience. An ethical behaviourist would reject this approach to understanding sentience on the grounds that for sentience to work as a ground for moral status it would have to be knowable through some outward sign of sentience. For a longer discussion of sentience and moral uncertainty see Sebo 2018. 10 Ethical	behaviourism	has	significant	consequences	when	it	comes	to	comparative assessments	of	moral	status.	An	ethical	behaviourist,	when	asked	whether	an	entity	(X) has	moral	rights	and	duties,	knows	that	one	easy	way	of	determining	this	is	to	compare X's	behavioural	patterns	to	the	patterns	of	another	entity	(Y)	who	already	has	some recognised	moral	status.	If	the	two	are	behaviourally	indistinguishable,	the	behaviourist will	argue,	in	the	interests	of	consistency,	that	X	has	those	rights	and	duties	too.	In	other words,	a	logical	consequence	of	ethical	behaviourism	is	that	the	following	comparative principle	ought	to	be	applied	to	assessments	of	moral	status: The	Comparative	Principle	of	EB:	If	an	entity	X	displays	or	exhibits	roughly equivalent	behavioural	patterns	(P1...Pn)	to	entity	Y,	and	if it	is	believed	that	those patterns	ground	or	justify	our	ascription	of	rights	and	duties	to	entity	Y,	then either	(a)	the	same	rights	and	duties	must	be	ascribed	to	X	or	(b)	the	use	of	P1...Pn to	ground	our	ethical	duties	to	Y	must	be	reevaluated. This	'performative	equivalency'	standard	applies	to	debates	about	the	moral	status	of robots.	So	if	there	is	rough	performative	equivalence	between	a	robot	and	another entity	to	whom	moral	duties	are	owed	(where	the	equivalence	relates	specifically	to	the patterns	that	epistemically	ground	our	duties	to	that	other	entity)	it	follows	that	the same	duties	are	probably	owed	to	the	robot.	This	implies	that	performative	artifice	can, by	itself,	suffice	for	moral	status. It	is	not	that	straightforward,	of	course.	There	is	a	hedge	in	the	comparative principle	that	suggests	it	can	also	be	used	to	reevaluate	the	behavioural	patterns	used	to ground	our	ethical	beliefs.	But	that	process	of	reevaluation	confronts	the	same epistemic	limits.	Suppose	it	is	agreed	that	duties	are	owed	to	animals	due	to	their capacity	to	feel	pain.	The	ethical	behaviourist	will	argue	that	a	sufficient	epistemic ground	for	this	belief	lies	in	the	observable	behavioural	repertoire	of	the	animal,	i.e.	in the	fact	that	it	yelps	or	cries	out	when	it	is	hurt,	and	recoils	from	certain	pain-inducing objects	in	the	world.	Applying	the	comparative	principle	would	imply	that	if	a	robot exhibits	the	same	behavioural	patterns,	we	owe	it	a	similar	set	of	duties. The	use	of those	behavioural	patterns	to	ground	moral	status	could	be	reevaluated	but	ultimately any	such	reevaluation	will	result	in	another	set	of	behaviourally-evidenced	properties 11 being	used	to	ground	our	ethical	beliefs.	At	some	point	in	time,	people	will	have	to	settle on	some	set	of	behavioural	patterns	for	grounding	their	beliefs	about	moral	status,	and, once	they	do,	it	will	still	be	true	that	any	entity	that	displays	similar	patterns	of behaviour	will	warrant	similar	moral	status.	In	other	words:	performative	artifice	is always	sufficient	for	grounding	moral	status,	even	if	there	is	some	dispute	about	the precise	contours	of	that	performative	artifice.	This	is	gives	us	premise	(1)	of	the argument:	if	ethical	behaviourism	is	true,	then	robots	that	are	roughly	performatively equivalent	to	other	entities	that	have	significant	moral	status	must	be	afforded	that same	status. Many	people	will	think	this	is	wrong.	To	support	their	view,	they	might	argue	that other	epistemically	accessible	facts	play	the	critical	role	in	grounding	our	beliefs	about moral	status.	These	facts	constitute	'epistemic	defeaters'	to	the	performative equivalency	standard.	The	remainder	of	this	section	looks	at	seven	potential	epistemic defeaters	and	argues	that	each	fails	to	undermine	the	performative	equivalency standard.	The	analysis	of	these	defeaters	is	intended	as	a	kind	of	'proof	by	contradiction' for	the	ethical	behaviourist	approach	(with	the	caveat	that	'proof'	is	a	strong	word	to use	in	ethics). These	objections	are	discussed	with	the	obvious	comparators	of	humans	and	(at least	some)	animals	in	mind.	Although	the	inclusion	of	animals	might	be	controversial, the	idea	that	animals	have	some	kind	of	moral	status	(one	that	means	they	can	be harmed	and	their	welfare	needs	to	be	considered	in	our	decision-making	about	them)	is widely	accepted	among	moral	philosophers	and	is	respected	in	many	legal	systems.	The objections	are	also	discussed	in	order	of	generality,	starting	with	those	that	take	aim	at the	core	idea	of	ethical	behaviourism	and	continuting	to	objections	that	focus	on behavioural	anomalies	that	might	undermine	the	application	of	the	performative equivalency	standard	to	robots. Different	ontologies	objection The	first	objection	is	that	knowledge	of	ontology	is	what	really	matters	when	it comes	to	ascriptions	of	moral	status.	Humans	and	animals	are	biological	beings, fashioned	from	complex	assemblies	of	organic	matter.	Machines	are	non-biological 12 beings,	fashioned	from	complex	assemblies	of	inorganic	matter. In	other	words,	they are	not	made	of	the	same	stuff.	Knowledge	of	this	difference	counts	for	something. Arguments	to	this	effect	have	featured	in	the	abortion	debate	(e.g.	Kaczor	2011). Opponents	of	abortion	sometimes	argue	that	being	a	member	of	the	human	species,	or being	a	biological	creature,	is	what	determines	the	moral	status	of	the	foetus,	not	the functional/behavioural	properties	that	pro-choice	advocates	favour.	While	this argument	could	have	some	relevance	for	the	debate	about	robotic	moral	status,	it	is worth	noting	that	it	does	not,	by	itself,	contradict	ethical	behaviourism.	Proponents	of this	argument	are,	presumably,	claiming	that	species	membership	and/or	biological properties	are	metaphysical	grounds	for	granting	moral	status	to	a	foetus;	they	are	not necessarily	denying	that	behavioural	evidence	can	epistemically	ground	the	ascription of	such	properties.	It	could	well	be	that	what	determines	membership	of	the	human species	or	status	as	a	biological	being	is	the	fact	that	an	entity	displays	or	exhibits certain	behavioural	tendencies	and	dispositions.	Furthermore,	even	if	that	is	wrong,	no abortion	opponent	appears	to	reject	the	idea	that	an	entity	that	displays	the	behaviour that	is	indicative	of	the	properties	ordinarily	associated	with	moral	status	–	e.g. consciousness,	intelligence	or	personhood	–	should	be	denied	moral	status.	In	other words,	they	do	not	seem	to	deny	that	these	things	are	sufficient	for	moral	status.	All	they do	argue	is	that	species	membership/biological	status	is	an	additional	or	independent ground	for	granting	an	entity	moral	status.	This	could	be	accepted,	arguendo,	for present	purposes	and	it	would	not	make	a	difference.	The	ethical	behaviourist	position advanced	in	this	paper	(as	set	out	in	premise	1)	is	that	being	performatively	equivalent to	an	entity	that	already	has	moral	status	is	sufficient	for	moral	status.	This	does	not mean	that	performative	equivalency	is	necessary	for	moral	status. For	the	"ontology	matters"	objection	to	undermine	the	performative	equivalency standard,	its	proponent will	have	to	make	the	stronger	claim	that	being	made	of	the right	stuff	is	necessary	for	moral	status.	But	this	is	untenable	because	it	results	in	an unjustifiable	biological	prejudice	and	mysterianism.	To	illustrate	the	point,	suppose someone	woke	up	one	morning	and	was	told	that	their	spouse	of	the	past	twenty	years is	an	alien	from	the	Andromeda	galaxy.	The	doctors	have	performed	tests	and	it	turns out	that	they	have	an	entirely	silicon-based	biology.	Nevertheless,	they	still	act	in	the 13 same	way,	behave	in	the	same	way,	and	appear	to	be	the	same	loving	and	supportive spouse	that	they	always	were	(albeit	with	some	explaining	to	do).	Would	the	knowledge that	they	are	made	of	different	stuff	warrant	their	being	denied	the	moral	status	they have	always	been	afforded?	Or	would	the	behavioural	evidence	negate	the	relevance	of this	new	bit	of	information?	The	latter	is	the	more	plausible	view	than	the	former:	it would	require	remarkable	cruelty	and	indifference	to	their	day-to-day	interactions	to reject	their	moral	status.	Similarly,	suppose	that	(as	seems	to	be	increasingly	possible) the	biological	parts	of	one's	spouse	were	gradually	replaced	by	functionally	equivalent technological	parts.	After	each	and	every	replacement,	they	appear	to	be	the	same	as they	always	were.	At	what	level	of	cyborgisation	should	they	lose	moral	status?	Or should	that	happen	at	all?	The	most	intuitively	compelling	view	is	that	it	shouldn't	and hence	that	sharing	a	particular	ontological	essence	is	not	necessary	for	moral	status. These	are,	admittedly,	familiar	thought	experiments	and	ideas	(cf.	Schwitzgebel	and Garza	2015).	Nevertheless,	they	show	that	while	knowing	that	an	entity	is	made	of biological/organic	matter	might	(and	the	emphasis	is	on	'might')	provide	an	additional sufficient	criterion	for	ascribing	moral	status,	it	cannot	undermine	the	independent sufficiency	of	the	performative	equivalency	criterion. Different	efficient	cause	objection A second	objection	is	that	the	performative	equivalency	standard	is	undermined	by our	knowledge	of	different	efficient	causes	of	existence	(i.e.	of	the	different	means through	which	an	entity	came	into	being)	.	It	is	known	that	animals	and	human	beings have	come	into	existence	through	a	combination	of	evolution	(which	gives	them	their genetic	constitution)	and	biological	development	(which	shapes	that	genetic constitution	into	a	specific	form).10	It	is	known	that	robots	come	into	existence	through a	very	different	set	of	processes.	They	are	programmed	and	manufactured	by	humans	in labs	or	factories.	Critics	of	performative	equivalency	might	argue	that	knowledge	of these	different	origins	should	block	any	inference	from	behaviour	to	moral	status. 10 A skeptic of evolution (e.g. a proponent of intelligent design) might dispute this, but if one believes in an intelligent designer then arguably one should perceive less of a morally significant difference between the efficient causes of humans and robots: both will be created by intelligent designers. That said, a theistic intelligent designer would have distinctive properties (omniscience, omnibenevolence) and those might make a difference to moral status. This issue is raised again in connection with the final cause objection, below. 14 That,	at	any	rate,	is	what	Michael	Hauskeller	appears	to	argue.	Writing	in	the	context of	whether	it	is	possible	to	have	a	loving	relationship	with	a	robot,	Hauskeller	initially seems	to	embrace	a	performative	equivalency	standard	(Hauskeller	2017,	205),	but then	resiles	from	this	by	arguing	that	knowledge	of	the	different	efficient	causes prevents	us	from	concluding	that	a	robot's	behaviours	have	moral	significance: [A]s	long	as	we	have	an	alternative	explanation	for	why	[the	robot]	behaves	that	way (namely,	that	it	has	been	designed	and	programmed	to	do	so),	we	have	no	good	reason	to believe	that	its	actions	are	expressive	of	anything	[morally	significant]	at	all.	(Hauskeller 2017,	205) There	are,	however,	two	reasons	to	reject	this	view.	First,	it	is	easy	to	overstate	the differences	between	humans/animals	and	robots	when	it	comes	to	their	efficient causes.	If	the	claim	is	that	any	entity	that	is	designed	and	manufactured	cannot	have significant	moral	status,	then	we	run	into	the	problem	that	humans	and	animals	can	be designed	and	manufactured,	at	least	in	a	certain	sense,	through	careful	planning	and selective	breeding.	They	are	also	likely	to	be	susceptible	to	more	invasive	and	precise forms	of	design	and	manufacture	in	the	near	future	thanks	to	developments	in	genetic engineering.	Someone	might	ethically	oppose	this	kind	of	intervention	into	their developmental	origin,	but	would	they	also	thereby	deny	moral	status	to	a	being	that	is born	as	a	result	of	them?	This	seems	implausible:	babies	born	as	a	result	of	genetic enhancement	should	not	take	a	moral	hit	for	the	actions	of	their	creators;	they	deserve the	same	moral	status	as	any	other	children.	Furthermore,	it	is	worth	nothing	that evolution	and	biological	development	are	themselves	design	and	manufacturing processes	that	are	not	radically	different	from	human	design	processes.	Indeed,	some programmers	and	manufacturers	try	to	emulate	the	mutation	and	selection mechanisms	of	evolution,	and	the	learning	mechanisms	of	development,	in	their	design of	machines.	Does	this	mean	that	machines	that	are	created	through	such	processes	will have	a	moral	status	that	they	would	otherwise	lack?	Again,	it	seems	implausible. Behavioural	criteria	matter	more. Second,	there	is	reason	to	think	that	origins	(particularly	biological	origins)	should not	matter	when	it	comes	to	determining	our	duties	towards	others.	This	is	a	more 15 controversial	point,	and	not	too	much	weight	is	rested	on	it	here,	but	it	could	be	argued that	emerging	norms	concerning	the	treatment	and	status	of,	for	example,	transgender persons	illustrate	the	relative	unimportance	of	biological	origins	when	it	comes	to ethical	status.	One	interpretation	of	the	literature	on	transgender	rights	is	that	we should	not	determine	someone's	ethically	relevant	status	based	on	their	biological origins	but,	rather,	on	how	they	authentically	and	consistently	present	themselves	to	us in	everyday	life.	If	this	emerging	norm	is	deemed	morally	appropriate,	then	it	supports the	performative	equivalency	standard	and	undermines	the	efficient	cause	objection. Different	final	cause	objection There	is,	however,	another	way	to	interpret	Hauskeller's	concerns.	Perhaps	his worry	is	not	about	efficient	causes	and	more	about	final	causes?	Maybe	the	concern	is that	robots	will	be	designed	to	serve	us	or	to	serve	the	needs	of	their	commercial	or governmental	proprietors,	and	that	they	will	be	owned	and	controlled	by	us	or	by	these third	party	entities	while	serving	these	ends.	All	of	these	facts	-	which	will	be	known	in our	interactions	with	the	robots	-	will	undermine	the	application	of	the	performative equivalency	standard	to	them. In	assessing	this	objection	it	is	worth	disentangling	two	things:	(i)	the	ends	that	the robots	have	been	designed	to	fulfil	(serving	us,	supporting	us	etc.)	and	(ii)	the	social facts	(ownership	and	control)	that	tend	to	be	associated	with	beings	that	serve	such ends	(Bryson	2010	&	2018).	If	a	robot	is	designed	to	fulfil	a	certain	end,	such	as	pleasing its	owner,	should	this	undermine	its	moral	status?	It	is	difficult	to	see	why	it	should.	The mere	fact	that	an	entity	serves	some	end	should	not	undercut	its	claim	to	moral	status. If	one	adopts	a	naturalistic	and	evolutionary	understanding	of	human	origins,	then	one will	more	than	likely	accept	that	humans	have	been	designed	(by	natural	selection)	to fulfil	the	ends	of	survival	and	reproduction.	Even	if	humans	rebel	against	these	ends, they	still	lurk	in	the	background	and	innate	instincts	and	drives	will	push	us	toward those	ends.	But	presumably	this	fact	alone	should	not	undermine	human	moral	status. Likewise,	if	one	adopts	a	theistic	understanding	of	human	origins,	then	one	will	more than	likely	accept	that	humans	have	been	designed	(by	God)	to	fulfil	certain	ends, possibly	including	serving	and	worshipping	Him.	But,	again,	it	seems	highly	unlikely 16 that	one	would	take	this	to	undermine	a	claim	of	human	moral	status.11	The	bottom	line, then,	is	that	just	because	an	entity	serves	an	end	-	up	to	and	including	an	end	that involves	worship	of	another	-	it	does	not	follow	that	its	claim	to	moral	status	is undermined.	Related	to	this,	it	is	worth	noting	that	certain	robotic	manufacturing processes	-	particularly	those	that	incorporate	machine	learning	-	may	result	in robots	that	do	not	serve	any	clearly	interpretible	end	or	an	end	that	is	readily associated	with	their	original	creators.	In	this	sense,	modern	robots	may	be	much	more like	humans	who	have	been	loosely	programmed	by	evolution	and	cultural development. What	about	the	fact	that	the	entity	is	owned	and	controlled	by	another?	This	also should	not	undermine	the	performative	equivalency	standard.	One	reason	for	this	is that	the	mere	fact	that	an	entity	is	owned	or	controlled	does	not,	by	itself,	mean	that	the entity	should	not	be	treated	with	moral	respect:	this	is	reflected	in	many	animal	cruelty and	welfare	statutes.12	Another	reason	is	that,	if	anything,	the	fact	of	performative equivalency	should	cause	us	to	reevaluate	the	system	of	ownership	and	control,	not	vice versa.	Ownership	and	control	are	socially	contingent	facts.	They	are	not	baked-into	the natural	order.	Not	too	long	ago,	humans	owned	and	controlled	other	humans.	This practice	is	no	longer	accepted	because	the	full	and	equal	moral	status	of	the	onceowned	and	controlled	human	beings	is	now	recognised.	Likewise,	humans	currently own	and	control	many	animals,	but	no	one	thinks	this	fact	alone	undermines	claims	to their	moral	status.	If	an	animal	rights	activist	argued	that	we	ought	to	grant	animals moral	status	it	would	be	odd	indeed	if	someone	responded	by	arguing	that	this	is	not morally	justified	because	animals	are	owned	and	controlled	by	humans.	The	animal rights	activist	would	rightly	argue	that	this	is	irrelevant.	So	too	with	robots.	If	robots	are performatively	equivalent	to	other	entities	to	whom	moral	status	is	ascribed,	then	we may	need	to	call	into	question	the	legal	and	institutional	norms	that	(by	default	or 11 If anything the opposite might be true. Theists might wish to ground moral status in non-observable metaphysical properties like the presence of a soul, but such properties run into the same problems as the strong form of sentientism (discussed in footnote 9). There are other possible religious approaches to moral status but religious believers confront similar epistemic limits to non-believers in the practical implementation of those approaches and this constrains how they can interpret and apply theories of moral status. 12 Connected to this, an anonymous reviewer also points out that Kant (unlike many modern Kantians), in the Metaphysics of Morals, argued that although servitude was permissible servants were still owed duties of moral respect. 17 historical	inertia)	grant	humans	ownership	and	control	over	them.	We	should	not	use the	fact	of	ownership	and	control	to	call	into	question	the	moral	status	of	robots. That	said,	the	fact	that	humans	once	owned	and	controlled	other	humans	–	and, more	generally,	the	fact	that	whole	groups	of	humans	were	once	systematically	treated as	having	less	than	full	moral	status	despite	being	performatively	equivalent	to	humans that	were	recognised	as	having	full	moral	status	–	might	say	something	interesting about	how	humanity	has	thought	about	moral	status	in	the	past.	It	might	suggest	that the	performative	equivalency	standard	has	not	been	our	default	historical	approach	to deciding	questions	of	moral	status.13	But	even	if	that	is	an	accurate	interpretation	of	the historical	record	it	does	not	mean	that	the	performative	equivalency	standard	is morally	unjustified	in	the	future.	On	the	contrary,	the	lesson	of	history	could	be	that	it was	wrong	to	overlook	performative	equivalency	in	the	past	and	it	would	be	wrong	to do	so	again.14 Deception	and	manipulation	objection A	related	objection	-	and	possibly	the	one	that	captures	many	people's	unease about	Sophia	and	her	alleged	citizenship	rights	-	is	that	any	performative	equivalency between	robots	and	humans	will	be	achieved	through	subterfuge,	deception	or manipulation.	The	manufacturers	of	robots	will	get	their	creations	to	mimic	certain behavioural	cues	that	we	associate	with	beings	with	significant	moral	status,	but because	of	the	internal	nature	of	the	robots,	these	behavioural	cues	will	not	correlate with	(or	supervene	upon)	the	metaphysical	properties	that	we	think	ground	moral status	(e.g.	conscious	awareness	and	understanding).	This	seems	to	be	what	motivates the	incredulity	in	the	tweet	cited	earlier	on	and	features	heavily	in	Joanna	Bryson's	and other	critics'	arguments	against	the	creation	of	person-like	robots	(Bryson	2010	and 2018;	Leong	and	Selinger	2019). 13 It might also be the case, as an anonymous reviewer points out, that our historical forebears conveniently overlooked or ignored the moral relevance of performative equivalency because doing so served other (e.g. economic) interests. 14 It should also be noted that the historical mistreatment of groups of human beings would call into question other grounds of moral status such as ontology and efficient cause. So history does not speak against the performative equivalency standard any more than it speaks against those standards. 18 Fears	about	deception	and	subterfuge	are,	however,	frequently	misconstrued. Seeing	why	gets	to	the	heart	of	what	is	distinctive	about	the	ethical	behaviourist	stance. The	behaviourist	position	is	that	even	if	one	thinks	that	certain	metaphysical	states	are the	'true'	metaphysical	basis	for	the	ascription	of	moral	status,	one	cannot	get	to	them other	than	through	the	performative	level.	This	means	that	if	the	entity	one	is concerned	with	consistently	performs	in	ways	that	suggest	that	they	feel	pain	(or	have whatever	property	it	is	that	we	associate	with	moral	status)	then	one	cannot	say	that those	performances	are	'fake'	or	'deceptive'	merely	because	the	entity	is	suspected	of lacking	some	inner	metaphysical	essence	that	grounds	the	capacity	to	feel	pain	(or whatever).	The	performance	itself	can	verify	the	presence	of	the	metaphysical	essence. This	does	not	mean	that	deception	is	impossible	in	the	case	of	robots	or	that people	cannot	be	deceived	(or	mistaken)	as	to	the	moral	status	of	robots.	The 'consistency'	of	the	performance	is	critical	here.	Further	behavioural	examination	or probing	may	reveal	that	the	entity	doesn't	really	doesn't	really	feel	pain	(or	have whatever	other	property	we	care	about).	This	may	cause	one	to	change	one's	opinion about	their	moral	status.	But	this	will	only	be	because	one	has	been	exposed	to countervailing	behavioural	evidence.	To	illustrate,	imagine	your	friend	showed	up	in your	office	one	day,	limping	and	whimpering	about	their	sore	leg.	You	suspect	they	are lying.	How	could	you	confirm	this?	Well,	suppose	you	see	them	the	next	day	running	up and	down	the	street,	then	jumping	up	and	down	on	the	spot	one	hundred	times,	and suppose	you	learn	from	conversation	with	others	that	they	never	said	anything	about feeling	pain	to	anyone	other	than	you.	All	that	behavioural	evidence	(direct	and indirect)	would	suggest	that	they	were	indeed	faking	it	when	they	came	into	your	office. It	would	give	you	countervailing	behavioural	warrant	for	disbelieving	them.	But	if	all the	other	behavioural	evidence	is	consistent	with	their	initial	claims	–	if	they	limped	up and	down	the	street	and	complained	to	everyone	about	the	pain	–	you	would	not	have warrant	for	disbelieving	them.	Either	way,	it	is	the	presence	or	absence	of	consistent behavioural	performances	that	determines	whether	they	are	deceiving	you	or	faking	it; it	is	not	the	presence	or	absence	of	some	inner	metaphysical	essence.	That	is	not something	that	can	be	observed	and	verified.	The	same	approach	should	apply	to	our interactions	with	robots. 19 Relatedly,	it	could	well	be	the	case	that	some	people	are	lazy	or	cognitively	impaired and	thus	unable	to	do	a	proper	consistency	check.	Those	people	may	leap	to unwarranted	conclusions	about	the	moral	status	of	robots.	This	should	be	avoided: equivalency	must	be	properly	tested.	Nevertheless,	it	is	always	the	behavioural evidence	that	determines	whether	the	judgment	about	moral	status	is	warranted,	not some	mismatch	between	the	behaviour	and	some	other	internal	factor. There	is	a	modified	version	of	this	objection	that	might	seem	more	persuasive. Someone	could	accept	the	behaviourist	stance	and	yet	argue	that	robotic	performances are	fake	because	they	do	not	emanate	from	a	mechanism	that	is	functionally	equivalent to	the	human	brain.	In	other	words,	they	could	argue	that	behavioural	states	can	only verifiably	ground	ascriptions	of	moral	status	if	they	are	correlated	with	the	right	kinds of	functional	brain	state.	If	those	functional	brain	states	are	not	present,	then	there	is deception	or	fakery. There	are	two	problems	with	this.	First,	the	earlier	comments	about	the	need	for	an expansive	interpretation	of	the	word	'behavioural'	should	be	remembered.	If	you	really believe	that	these	are	relevant	to	the	ascription	of	moral	status	then	they	can	be included	within	the	performative	equivalency	standard	that	robots	would	have	to match	(Raoult	and	Yampolskiy	2018).	This	would	still	imply	that	it	is	possible	for	robots to	be	granted	moral	status	on	the	basis	of	performative	equivalency,	provided	that	we don't	commit	ourselves	to	the	implausible	version	of	biological	mysterianism	that	was outlined	earlier.	Second,	notwithstanding	this	possibility,	it	is	probably	wrong	to	think that	the	presence	of	functional	brain	states	really	does	make	a	critical	moral	difference. For	one	thing,	our	understanding	of	the	relationship	between	brain	states	and	morally significant	metaphysical	states	(such	as	sentience	and	personhood)	is	pretty	iffy.	There doesn't	seem	to	be	any	reason	to	think	that	specific	functional	brain	states	are	the	only way	in	which	to	realise	those	metaphysical	states.	Furthermore,	as	argued	earlier,	our epistemic	warrant	for	associating	functional	brain	states	with	metaphysically	significant properties	like	sentience	is	ultimately	verified	by	behavioural	evidence.	This	evidence consequently	should	have	epistemic	primacy	in	our	ethical	practices. The	'Thinking	Otherwise'	objection 20 Another	objection	to	the	performative	equivalency	standard	might	be	found	in	the work	of	Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel	(2014	and	2016).	Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel	argue against	the	'properties	approach'	to	determining	moral	status	in	both	animal	and machine	ethics	(Gunkel	2018a	and	2018b).	The	properties	approach	holds	that	whether or	not	an	entity	deserves	moral	status	depends	on	whether	it	exemplifies	certain properties,	such	as	the	capacity	for	suffering	or	the	capacity	to	be	the	subject	of	a	life. The	properties	approach	is	similar	to	the	approach	advocated	in	this	article,	with	the caveat	that	this	article	claims	that	behaviour	provides	sufficient	warrant	for	believing	in the	existence	of	such	properties. Gunkel	and	Coeckelbergh	present	four	criticisms	of	the	properties	approach.	They argue	that	it	proceeds	from	an	unexamined	anthropocentric	bias:	proponents	of	the approach	start	with	properties	that	humans	exemplify,	such	as	sentience	or	selfawareness,	and	then	work	outwards	from	those	properties	to	determine	the	moral status	of	others.	They	argue	that	the	approach	is	beset	by	epistemological	problems: many	of	the	properties	favoured	are	epistemically	opaque	and	it	is	not	clear	how	we could	know	whether	or	not	they	are	present.	They	argue	that	the	approach	creates	an illusion	of	neutrality	when	it	comes	to	determining	moral	status:	the	assumption	is	that the	presence	or	absence	of	the	relevant	properties	can	be	objectively	and	neutrally determined,	and	these	are	matters	to	be	determined	by	scientists	and	animal behaviourists,	not	ethicists,	but	this	ignores	how	deeply	moral/ethical	the determination	of	moral	status	really	is.	And	finally,	they	argue	that	the	properties approach	often	involves	sticking	with	a	traditional	and	defective	method	for	determining moral	status:	the	decisions	as	to	which	properties	'count'	are	ones	that	are	made	before people	are	born	and	are	deeply	embedded	in	contingent	social	norms	and	practices. This	is	why,	historically,	women	and	slaves	were	excluded	from	having	moral	status.	To persist	with	the	properties	approach	is	to	persist	with	these	dubious	social	and	cultural norms. There	is	merit	to	each	of	these	criticisms	but	they	do	not	undermine	the performative	equivalency	standard.	The	second	criticism,	relating	to	the	epistemic opacity	of	properties,	is	the	bullet	that	the	ethical	behaviourist	thinks	everyone	should bite,	and	the	third	and	fourth	criticisms	are	consistent	with	performative	equivalency. 21 All	they	really	do	is	give	reason	to	adopt	a	looser	'ethically	precautionary'	standard	of performative	equivalency	in	order	to	widen	the	scope	of	moral	status	and	avoid	status quo	bias	(this	is	discussed	in	more	detail	below).	Finally,	the	first	criticism	highlights something	that	is	arguably	unavoidable	in	this	arena.	It	is	difficult	to	see	how	else	we can	proceed	with	ascriptions	of	moral	status	except	outwards	from	what	is	known about	humans.	This	doesn't	bind	us	to	a	human-likeness	standard	of	performative equivalency;	but	it	does	mean	that	human-likeness	(at	a	minimum)	should	be	sufficient for	moral	status. Gunkel	and	Coeckelbergh	go	beyond	critique	and	argue	for	an	alternative	'relational' approach	to	moral	status.	This	relational	approach	focuses	on	how	other	beings	relate to	us	and	enter	into	our	lives.	They	base	this	on	the	work	of	the	phenomenologist Emmanuel	Levinas.	He	argued	that	the	primary	fact	of	existence	was	its	relationality,	i.e. the	fact	that	we	are	in	the	world	with	others	who	intrude	upon	us	in	various	ways.	This intrusion	necessitates	a	moral	response,	and	as	part	of	that	response	our	relations	with others	must	be	parsed	into	ontological	categories	where	some	entities	are	seen	to	'take on	a	face'	and	require	special	treatment.	This	'taking	on	a	face'	is	equivalent	to	acquiring moral	status	and	entering	a	moral	community.	Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel	ask	what	it takes	for	an	animal	or	robot	(or	'Other')	to	take	on	a	face.	They	think	that	asking	this question	takes	us	away	from	the	properties-oriented	mindset	and	focuses	instead	on our	embodied	interpersonal	interactions	with	the	Other.	Discussing	animals,15 Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel	single	out	two	things	that	seem	to	be	quite	important	in determining	whether	animals	take	on	a	face.	The	first	is	the	'naming'	of	the	animal: Giving	an	animal	a	proper	name	is	a	speech	act	with	moral	consequences.	It	draws	the animal	inside	the	moral	circle.	The	second	is	the	physical	location	of	the	animal: Animals	that	live	outside	our	homes	-	in	the	fields	and	countryside	-	are	different from	animals	that	share	our	homes.	By	inviting	them	into	our	homes	we	also	invite them	into	our	moral	circles	(Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel,	2014,	727). The	relational	approach	is	provocative	but	also	does	not	undermine	the performative	equivalency	standard.	On	the	contrary,	the	relational	approach	is consistent	with	the	behaviourist	approach.	Both	argue	that	the	actual	metaphysics	of 15 Gunkel has subsequently (2018a and 2018b) expanded the analysis to include robots 22 animals	and	robots	is	an	ethical	distraction.	The	focus	should	instead	be	on	how	they represent	themselves	to	us.	When	it	comes	to	the	practical	application	of	the	relational approach,	all	that	Gunkel	and	Coeckelbergh	do	differently	is	suggest	that	additional representational	criteria,	beyond	the	performative,	and	including	the	social-relational, might	be	relevant	for	ascriptions	of	moral	status.	Adding	these	criteria	to	the	moral calculus	could	well	be	warranted,	but	then	the	sufficiency-necessity	debate	rears	its head	again.	These	other	criteria	might	be	sufficient	(when	taken	with	other	factors)	for an	ascription	of	moral	status,	but	are	they	necessary?	If	one	had	a	robot	that	was performatively	equivalent	to	a	human	should	the	fact	that	it	did	not	have	a	name,	or	did not	enter	into	embodied	relations	with	humans,	make	a	critical	difference?	It	is	hard	to see	why	it	should.	It	is	more	plausible	to	suggest	that	performative	equivalency	would trump	these	other	considerations.16 In	short,	the	relational	approach	is	not	opposed	to	the	behaviourist	approach.	That said,	there	is,	one	critical	difference.	Gunkel	and	Coeckelbergh	claim	the	relational approach	does	not	give	us	clear	ethical	guidance	on	how	to	treat	animals	and	machines, nor	is	it	intended	to	(Coeckelbergh	and	Gunkel,	2014,	730;	Gunkel	2018a,	95ff).	The ethical	behaviourist	approach	does:	It	says	moral	status	should	be	granted	to	an	entity when	it	is	performatively	equivalent	to	another	entity	to	whom	it	is	already	granted. (f)	The	Ontological	and	Practical	Weirdness	of	Robotic	Moral	Status The	sixth	objection	holds	that	robotic	moral	status	cannot	be	recognised	solely	on the	grounds	of	performative	equivalency	because	it	would	be	too	weird	or	unusual	if	it were	recognised.	Even	if	robots	look	and	act	like	humans	and	animals	they	are	still, underneath	it	all,	very	different.	Their	embodied	parts	can	be	easily	replaced	in	the event	of	injury	or	accident;	their	'minds'	and	memories	can	be	backed-up	and	restored after	'fatal'	error.	They	are	not	as	fragile	or	morally	needy	as	humans	or	animals.	Their existential	robustness	means	that,	even	if	they	are	performatively	equivalent	to	humans or	animals,	they	don't	need	to	be	morally	respected	in	the	same	way. 16 That said, the performative equivalency view is not necessarily in tension with the relational view because the fact that people want to give robots names, invite them into their homes, and make them human-like in other ways is probably what drives people to create robots that are performatively equivalent. The author is indebted to an anonymous reviewer for suggesting this point. 23 This	is	a	variant	on	the	ontological	differences	objection	considered	earlier,	albeit one	focused	on	the	ontological	weirdness	of	robots.	It	is	a	common	objection.17	While	it is	superficially	attractive,	it	has	some	problems.	For	one	thing,	just	because	a	robot's moral	status	is	recognised	on	the	grounds	of	performative	equivalency	it	does	not follow	that	they	need	the	exact	same	protections	as	the	entity	to	whom	they	are	being compared.	Two	humans	can	be	roughly	performatively	equivalent	and	yet	not	be	owed the	exact	same	protections.	This	is	something	that	needs	to	be	worked	out.	More importantly	though,	if	one	believes	that	ontological	robustness	–	specifically	the fungibility/replaceability	of	functional	parts	–undermines	claims	to	moral	status,	one starts	down	a	very	slippery	slope	(Carter	and	Palermos	2016).	After	all,	human biological	parts	are	increasingly	replaceable	with	either	organ	transplants	or	artificial analogues	to	biological	organs.	Does	the	fact	that	one	could	give	someone	a	cochlear implant	make	it	okay	to	induce	deafness?	Surely	not	and	surely	robots	that	are performatively	equivalent	to	humans	should	be	afforded	the	same	moral	respect.18 Cumulative	difference	objection The	final	objection	is	that	although	none	of	the	preceding	differences	suffices	to undermine	the	performative	equivalency	standard	by	themselves,	taken	as	a	collective they	do.	In	other	words,	because	robots	and	humans/animals	differ	in	so	many	ways (biological	constitution,	efficient	cause,	final	cause,	etc)	they	cannot	have	the	same moral	status	merely	because	they	are	performatively	equivalent.	One	or	two	differences could	be	tolerated,	but	not	so	many. This	is	tempting	but	it	is	difficult	to	fashion	a	morally	significant	difference	out	of	a collection	of	differences	that	are,	if	the	preceding	rebuttals	are	correct,	individually morally	irrelevant	(with	the	possible	exception	of	species	membership,	which	was	only granted	arguendo).	It	is	at	least	deeply	mysterious	as	to	how	this	could	happen.	The burden	of	proof	should	be	on	the	proponent	of	the	cumulative	difference	argument	to come	up	with	a	mechanism	that	allows	for	this. 17 Schwitzgebel and Garza (2015) have an extended discussion of AI-fragility (or the lack thereof) and what it might mean for moral status. They initially agree with the position adopted in this article but also suggest that certain aspects of machine ontology might warrant greater moral protection. 18 Contrariwise, if replaceability undermines the need for certain kinds of moral protections, then perhaps we need a new set of moral norms for entities that are easily replaceable. But this new set of norms would then apply to humans just as much as it would apply to robots. 24 One	way	that	the	argument	might	work	is	if	it	is	assumed	that	the	preceding arguments	have	not	shown	that	these	other	factors	are	morally	irrelevant	but,	rather, that	they	carry	less	weight	than	might	initially	be	thought.	One	might	then	argue	that, taken	together,	all	these	differences	amount	to	something	weighty.	But	then	the	critical question	is	whether	the	combined	weight	would	be	sufficient	to	defeat	the	inference from	performative	equivalency.	This	seems	implausible.	Performative	equivalency would	swamp	everything	else:	to	deny	moral	status	to	a	robot	that	acted	like	a	human	in every	important	respect,	but	was	made	of	different	stuff	and	came	into	being	in	a different	way,	would	be	unduly	reckless	and	insensitive.	Performative	equivalency	is	a decisive	factor	when	it	comes	to	ascriptions	of	moral	status.	It	is	sufficient	for	moral status. Defending	Premise	(2):	What's	the	performative	threshold? To	this	point,	the	focus	has	been	on	premise	(1)	and	how	the	performative equivalency	standard	works	in	the	abstract.	Little	has	been	said	about	premise	(2)	and how	that	standard	could	work	in	practice.	That's	where	the	spotlight	now	shifts. When	thinking	about	the	practical	application	of	the	standard,	it	is	important	to emphasise	that	the	argument	defended	in	this	paper	is	strictly	agnostic	when	it	comes	to the	precise	content	of	the	performative	equivalency	standard	and	the	metaphysical assumptions	that	undergird	it.	Indeed,	for	the	argument	to	work,	there	need	not	be	any agreement	on	the	metaphysical	basis	for	moral	status.	As	long	as	it	is	thought	that	some beings	have	moral	status,	and	as	long	as	the	performative	comparisons	with	other beings	are	roughly	equivalent,	ethical	behaviourism	kicks-in	and	logical	consistency demands	an	ascription	of	moral	status.	This	is	because,	to	reiterate,	ethical behaviourism	is	a	meta-empirical	thesis	about	how	we	ought	to	interpret	empirical evidence	concerning	behaviour,	not	an	empirical	or	metaphysical	thesis	about	the	kinds of	behaviour	we	should	be	focusing	our	attention	on.	Nevertheless,	whether	the performative	standard	should	be	set	at	a	'high'	or	'low'	level	and	whether	robots	could meet	that	standard	is	something	that	can	considered	in	this	article.	So	although	it	may not	be	possible	to	reach	a	final	conclusion	as	to	what	the	performative	standard	should be	–	that	would	require	a	separate	analysis	–	but	it	should	at	least	be	possible	to	sketch 25 some	of	the	difficult	compromises	and	tradeoffs	that	arise	when	choosing	between	a high	or	low	level	standard. A	'high'	level	standard	would	require	a	behaviourally-sophisticated	robot	that	is perfomatively	equivalent	to	a	competent	adult	human.	It	might	be	very	difficult,	but probably	not	impossible,	for	a	robot	to	be	created	that	satisfies	this	standard	at	some point	in	the	future.	There	would,	of	course,	be	debates	to	be	had	about	which	adult human	behaviours	would	be	most	critical	and	would	have	to	be	mimicked	by	the	robot. It	would	be	odd	if	we	required	the	robots	to	look	and	act	exactly	like	an	adult	human. Some	of	the	things	that	adult	humans	do	are	not	necessary	for	moral	status.	For example,	if	the	robot	doesn't	fidget	or	scratch	its	nose	or	sweat,	it	would	be	odd	to	deny its	moral	status	if	it	is	otherwise	performatively	equivalent. Similarly,	though	this	might be	more	controversial,	full	human-likeness	in	appearance	(human-like	skin,	bipedality, facial	gestures)	would	not	seem	necessary	for	moral	status.	In	this	respect	the	analogy between	a	high	performative	threshold	and	the	Turing	Test	for	intelligence	might	be quite	strong:	they	might	just	be	the	same	test	on	the	grounds	that	it	is	cognitive behaviour	that	really	matters	when	it	comes	to	moral	status. What	is	more	important	for	present	purposes	is	whether	setting	the	standard	at	a high	level	is	justified.	It	might	be	prudentially	justified.	Given	the	controversy	around Sophia's	citizenship	and	the	deep	concerns	expressed	about	the	idea	of	robot	rights	in some	quarters	(e.g	Bryson	et	al	2017;	Bryson	2018),	and	given	the	fact	humans	are quick	to	anthropomorphise	and	over-ascribe	agency	to	non-living	things,	it	might	avoid a	lot	of	anger	and	strife	if	we	set	the	standard	at	a	high	level.	It	would	reassure	the skeptics	and	naysayers	that	the	day	when	we	must	be	wary	of	our	duties	to	robots	is	a long	way	off,	and	might	serve	as	a	check	on	our	natural	cognitive	bias	toward anthropomorphism.	One	might	even	argue	that	this	stance	is	morally	justified	on	the grounds	that	the	differences	between	robots	and	humans	discussed	in	the	previous section,	though	morally	insignificant	in	their	own	right,	are	nevertheless	sources	of normative	uncertainty	and,	given	the	consequences	of	recognising	robotic	moral	status for	other	ethical	duties	(e.g.	the	procreative	duties	discussed	later	on	),	one	should	err on	the	side	of	under-inclusivity	when	it	comes	to	such	uncertainty. 26 The	problem	with	this	argument	is	that	normative	uncertainty	regarding	moral status	is	usually	thought	to	warrant	over-inclusivity	rather	than	under-inclusivity (Lockhart	2000;	Guerrero	2007;	Moller	2011;	Neely	2014;	Sebo	2018).	Several philosophers	have	argued	that	normative	uncertainty	regarding	the	status	of	animals and	foetuses	should	cause	us	to	err	on	the	side	of	including	them	within	the	circle	of moral	concern,	not	excluding	them	(Moller	2011;	Sebo	2018).	Erica	Neely	(2014)	has defended	this	same	view	with	respect	to	robots.	The	thinking	is	that	the	moral	risk attached	to	over-inclusivity	is	much	lower	than	the	moral	risk	attached	to	underinclusivity.	It	is	worse	to	exclude	a	deserving	entity	from	the	circle	of	moral	concern than	to	include	an	undeserving	entity. This	might	push	us	to	favour	a	low-level	standard,	but	if	a	low-level	standard	is favoured	we	run	into	another	problem,	namely:	that	robots	may	already	be	pretty	close to	meeting	it,	if	they	haven't	done	so	already.	This	can	be	seen	by	examining	some comparator	cases.	These	may	prove	controversial,	but	the	controversy	can	be addressed	after	they	have	been	set	out.	The	first	comparator	case	is:	persons	with severe,	permanent	cognitive	and/or	physical	disabilities.	It	is	already	commonly	agreed that	such	persons	have	moral	status	and	are	owed	duties	despite	the	fact	that	their behavioural	repertoires	are	limited.	This	applies	to	persons	who	are	severely	disabled from	birth	as	well	as	people	who	become	severely	disabled	later	in	life.	The	second comparator	is:	animals	with	minimal	behavioural	repertoires	(e.g.	chickens	or	mice). Although	more	controversial,	many	people	now	accept	that	such	animals	have	some moral	status,	at	least	one	that	requires	us	to	have	concern	for	their	welfare	and	not	to subject	them	to	unnecessary	violence	or	harm	without	good	cause.	It	doesn't	seem	too much	of	a	stretch	to	suggest	that	robots	could,	if	they	are	not	already	at	least	in	the	very near	future,	be	performatively	equivalent	to	one	or	both	of	these	groups.	The	normative preference	for	over-inclusivity	could	then	kick-in	and	justify	affording	them	moral status. This	can	be	further	underlined	by	considering	in	more	detail	the	case	of	humans with	severe	cognitive	and/or	physical	disabilities.	Disability	rights	activists	have	argued that	the	performative	threshold	that	such	people	have	to	meet	in	order	to	have	their actions	protected	under	Article	12	of	the	UN	Convention	on	the	Rights	of	Persons	with 27 Disabilities19	should	be	set	at	a	low	level.	Arstein-Kerslake	and	Flynn	(2017),	for example,	have	argued	that	once	the	legal	personhood	of	an	individual	with	a	disability	is accepted,	any	action	that	they	perform	(with	legal	consequences)	that	provides evidence	of	'intention'	should	trigger	legal	protection.	In	saying	this,	they	both	(a) explicitly	acknowledge	that	the	behavioural	evidence	of	intention	could	be	quite minimal	and	(b)	that	we	should	err	on	the	side	of	over-inclusivity: "We	propose	that...any	indication	that	there	was	purpose	and	deliberation	behind	a particular	action,	decision,	or	omission,	should	be	considered	sufficient	evidence	to ascribe	intention...	If	there	is	doubt	about	whether	or	not	intention	exists	in	an	action taken	by	a	person	with	a	disability,	we	propose	that,	for	the	purposes	of	Article	12,	an assumption	is	made	in	favor	of	finding	intention...it	is	more	dangerous	to	deny	moral agency	to	people	with	disabilities	than	it	is	to	simply	accept	that	all	people	have	moral agency	and	to	then	explore	how	best	to	[protect]	the	expression	of	that	agency." (Arstein-Kerslake	and	Flynn,	2017,	26	references	omitted) This	analogy	with	persons	with	severe	disabilities	may	provoke	a	negative	reaction. Critics	might	argue	that	although	it	seems	progressive	to	'expand	the	circle'	of	moral concern	to	include	robots	(Singer	1981),	doing	so	using	this	analogy	insults	the	struggle of	a	historically	oppressed	and	ignored	group	of	persons	who	fought	hard	to	get included	in	the	circle	of	moral	concern.20	They	could	also	argue	that	it	risks underestimating	the	actual	behavioural	capacities	of	these	individuals. We	should	be	to	these	concerns	and	they	may	provide	a	strong	prudential	reason	to worry	about	favouring	a	low	threshold.	But	it	is	important	to	probe	the	consequences	of our	moral	practices	and	beliefs,	even	if	this	sometimes	gets	us	into	uncomfortable territory.	If	the	performative	equivalency	standard	is	correct,	and	if	we	should	err	on the	side	of	over-inclusivity	when	it	comes	to	moral	status,	then	the	possibility	of	a	low 19 Article 12 of the UNCRPD recognises the right to equal recognition before the law of persons with disabilities and includes, specifically, the right to recognition of legal capacity (roughly: the capacity to make decisions on their own behalf). 20 For an example of how this objection might play out, consider the controversy that Rebecca Tuvel's article 'In Defence of Transracialism' (2017) provoked when she argued that transgenderism and transracialism could be viewed as analogous phenomena. 28 threshold	has	to	be	accepted.	It	should	also	be	noted	that,	if	there	is	some	worry	about the	insensitivity	of	the	analogy	with	persons	with	severe	disabilities,	the	analogy	with animals	is	likely	to	prove	much	less	offensive	and	the	argument	can	be	sustained	just with	that	analogy.	Finally,	it	should	be	remembered	that	even	the	most	sophisticated	of present	day	robots	may	fail	to	cross	the	low	performative	threshold	set	by	these comparators.	This	is	something	that	has	to	be	carefully	determined	by	detailed	inquiry, not	simply	asserted	or	hypothesised	in	the	abstract. That	said,	there	may	be	some	moral	reasons	for	rejecting	a	low	threshold	in	the	case of	robots,	but	accepting	it	in	the	case	of	animals	and	persons	with	severe	disabilities.	It could	be	that	other	criteria	for	moral	status	are	satisfied	in	these	cases	and	this	justifies a	lower	performative	threshold.	Perhaps,	for	example,	if	an	entity	has	the	potential	for displaying	a	more	sophisticated	behavioural	repertoire	at	a	later	time,	it	is	okay	to ascribe	moral	status	for	lower	level	performances	at	another	point	in	time.	Potentiality principles	of	this	sort	have	long	been	used	in	the	abortion	debate	to	make	the	case	for foetal	moral	status.	The	problem	with	using	them	in	this	context	is	that	it	does	not	seem right	to	say	that	animals	or	persons	with	severe	permanent	disabilities	have	the potential	for	higher	level	performances.	At	least,	they	do	not	have	a	very	robust potential	for	such	performances	and	it	would	be	possible	to	argue	that	robots	have	this less	robust	potentiality	too	(if	they	just	had	the	right	technological	modifications...). More	plausibly,	it	could	be	argued	that	animals	and	persons	with	severe	disabilities warrant	a	lower	threshold	because	they	are	biological	beings	or	members	of	the	human species.	This	was	rejected	as	a	reason	for	denying	the	performative	equivalency standard	above,	but	it	was	conceded,	arguendo,	that	it	might	provide	an	additional ground	for	moral	status.	That	concession	could	be	cashed	in	here	and	it	could	be	argued that	persons	with	severe	disabilities	and/or	animals	warrant	a	low	performative threshold	because	they	satisfy	this	additional	criterion	for	moral	status.	This	means	that ontology	must	makes	some	moral	difference	(in	this	case	by	lowering	the	performative threshold	required	for	moral	status),	and	accepting	this	will	have	important,	and possibly	unpalatable,	knock-on	effects	on	other	moral	beliefs	(such	as	our	approach	to abortion	rights).	There	are	also	some	other	less	defensible	reasons	to	favour	a	low threshold.	For	example,	one	could	cling	to	the	status	quo	for	ineffable/conservative reasons.	Or,	one	could	accept	the	analogy	between	robots	and	these	other	groups	but 29 use	this	to	call	into	question	the	low	performative	thresholds	that	are	applied	to	animals and	persons	with	severe	cognitive	and	physical	disabilities.	Either	response	would	have significant,	probably	unwelcome,	repercussions. In	the	end,	neither	a	high	level	nor	a	low	level	performative	threshold	seems	to	be entirely	desirable.	If	a	high	threshold	is	favoured,	it	would	imply	that	robots	are	unlikely be	granted	significant	moral	status	any	time	soon,	and	while	that	might	be	prudentially defensible	it	does	not	seem	to	be	morally	defensible.	If	a	low-level	threshold	is	favoured, this	could	imply	that	robots	already	have	(or	are	very	close	to	having)	significant	moral status.	This	would	force	a	reevaluation	of	the	morality	of	our	actions	toward	them. Intermediate	options,	such	as	the	'low	threshold	+	some	additional	criterion',	or	a moderate	threshold	that	is	defined	independently,	would	suffer	from	similar	problems. It	seems	that	no	matter	what	standard	is	picked,	there	are	important	tradeoffs	to consider.	Bringing	robots	within	the	circle	of	moral	concern,	or	leaving	them	out,	will have	knock-on	effects	on	our	other	moral	beliefs	and	practices.	These	need	to	be carefully	mapped,	identified	and	evaluated. Procreative	Beneficence	and	Robots If	the	argument	to	this	point	is	successful,	it	follows	that	determining	whether	or	not a	robot	has	significant	moral	status	depends	on	whether	that	robot	is	performatively equivalent	to	another	entity	with	significant	moral	status.	Assuming	it	is	possible	for	us to	create	such	a	robot,	it	would	then	seem,	prima	facie,	to	follow	that	this	is	a	decision with	serious	ethical	ramifications.	Might	there	be	a	duty	to	create	or	refrain	from creating	such	beings? Joanna	Bryson	is	one	of	the	few	to	appreciate	the	importance	of	this	question. Bryson	believes	it	is	possible	for	us	to	create	robots	with	significant	moral	status (Bryson	2010	and	2018).	She	is,	however,	adamant	that	we	shoud	not	do	this	because there	are	too	many	costs.	It	would	mean:	that	robots	could	not	be	used	for	beneficial instrumental	purposes;	that	humans	could	avoid	legal	and	moral	responsibility	for	the actions	of	the	robots	they	create;	and	that	our	current	normative	equilibrium	would	be destabilised	(Bryson	2018).	She	argues	that	this	does	not	mean	that	robots	should	be banned	altogether;	it	just	means	that	we	should	refrain	from	creating	ones	that	attract 30 moral	status.	For	the	most	part,	Bryson	focuses	on	the	costs	that	creating	robots	with moral	status	would	impose	on	human	beings,	but	she	also	considers	the	negative	impact this	might	have	on	robots	too: "..the	policies	I	promote	[reference	omitted]	have	always	explicitly	considered	the welfare	of	potential	intelligent	artefacts	[i.e.	robots]...Why	should	we	design	[such] artefacts	to	be	in	the	position	of	competing	with	us	for	resources;	of	longing	for	higher social	status	(as	all	evolved	social	vertebrates	do);	of	fearing	injury,	extinction,	or humiliation?"	(Bryson	2018,	8-9) Of	course,	this	reasoning	would	apply	equally	well	to	the	procreation	of	animals	and human	offspring,	so	it	is	not	clear	how	seriously	it	should	be	taken21	and,	as	Danaher (2018)	argues,	there	are	potential	benefits	to	the	creation	of	robotic	offspring	that	could outweigh	these	costs. Nevertheless,	Bryson's	analysis	is	insightful	because	it	suggests	that	the	creation of	robots	with	significant	moral	status	can	be	viewed	through	the	lens	of	procreative ethics.	This	is	helpful	because	the	literature	on	procreative	ethics	has	identified	many principles	and	constraints	that	ought	to	apply	to	procreative	decision-making	and	it would	be	worthwhile	seeing	how	(if	at	all)	these	carry	over	to	the	robot	case.	This article	concludes	by	considering	one	obvious	principle	that	might	apply:	the	principle	of procreative	beneficence	(PPB). The	PPB	was	originally	formulated	by	Julian	Savulescu	(2001)	and	holds	that although	one	is	not	under	any	obligation	to	procreate,	if	one	decides	to	procreate	one	is under	a	duty	to	procreate	a	child	with	the	best	possible	life	given	current	knowledge and	technology	(Savulescu	2001,	415).	The	PPB	is	controversial	when	applied	to	human procreation	(Holland	2016;	Saunders	2015	&	2016;	Overall	2011).	It	is	criticised	on three	main	grounds.	The	first	is	that	Savulescu	favours	a	welfarist	test	for	the	'best	life' that	ignores	or	overlooks	other	aspects	of	the	good	life;	the	second	is	that	there	is	no easy	way	to	identify	the	child	that	will	have	the	best	life	at	the	point	of	procreation 21 Bryson may think there are other moral/ethical benefits that outweigh these costs in the case of humans - it is not clear from her writings. What is clear is that she thinks that human well-being trumps robotic well-being. 31 (Savulescu's	preferred	method	of	pre-implantation	genetic	diagnosis	has	its	epistemic limits);	and	the	third	is	that	the	PPB	places	too	high	a	burden	on	potential	procreators, particularly	women.22	Thus,	the	tendency	is	to	think	that,	as	applied	to	human procreation,	the	PPB,	at	best,	identifies	something	that	is	morally	supererogatory;	and, at	worst,	not	defensible	at	all. But	how	does	it	fare	when	applied	to	robotic	procreation?	Contrary	to	what	one might	think,	it	may	be	less	controversial	in	that	case	than	in	the	human	case.	The	reason for	this	is	that	the	most	compelling	objections	to	the	application	of	the	PPB	to	human procreation	-	the	excessive	burden	argument,	and	the	epistemic	limitation	argument -	carry	much	less	weight	when	applied	to	robotic	procreation.	Consider	Christine Overall's	criticisms	of	the	PPB.	She	argues	that	Savulescu	unduly	ignores	the	practical impact	that	the	PPB	would	have	on	women.	If	followed,	it	would	require	women	to forego	the	good	of	conception	via	sexual	intercourse,	and	instead	opt	for	IVF	combined with	pre-implantation	genetic	diagnosis,	which	is	both	expensive	and	carries	significant medical	risks	(e.g.	multiple	gestations).	It	would,	as	Overall	puts	it,	be	forcing	women	to conduct	a	'massive	medical	experiment'	on	their	own	bodies	and	that	of	their	children for	uncertain	gain	(Overall	2011,	127). Similar	concerns	do	not	arise	in	the	case	of	robotic	procreation.	Requiring	robot manufacturers	to	create	robots	with	the	best	possible	life	will	undoubtedly	impose burdens	on	them,	but	these	burdens	are	not	unreasonable.	The	decision	to	create	a robot	is	entirely	voluntary,	and	ensuring	that,	of	the	possible	ones	that	could	be	created, creating	the	robot	with	the	best	possible	life	(given	current	technological	limits),	will not	require	one	to	forgo	other	decisive/overwhelming	goods,	or	result	in	a problematically	gendered	distribution	of	risk	and	reward.	Furthermore,	many	of	the epistemic	limitations	that	apply	to	human	procreation	would	not	apply	to	robotic procreation.	The	link	between	genetic	constitution	and	the	overall	quality	of	life	is,	still, relatively	uncertain.	There	are	some	genetic	endowments	that	carry	significant	health risks,	but	beyond	clearcut	cases	the	ability	to	ensure	the	best	possible	life	from	genetic 22 It is also sometimes criticized for being redolent of eugenics. However, Savulescu would argue that there are significant moral differences between what he is proposing and the morally repugnant policies of historical eugenicists. He is not claiming that people ought to be sterilized or prevented from having children in the interests of racial or cognitive purity. He is focusing on the need to benefit potential offspring; not on harming or restricting potential parents. 32 testing	alone	is	limited.	Controlling	a	robot's	programming	and	technical	constitution will	be	much	more	feasible.	There	can	be	more	fine-grained	control	over	its	quality	of life,	though	there	will	be	some	limitations	(e.g.	hacking,	unforeseen	social	or	natural disasters).23 There	are	two	obvious	objections	to	the	use	of	the	PPB	in	the	case	of	robots.	The	first is	that	there	is	no	meaningful	concept	of	well-being	or	welfare	that	can	be	used	to	assess a	robot's	quality	of	life.	Hence,	the	principle	cannot	be	applied.	This	objection	can	be quickly	dispatched.	The	key	lesson	of	ethical	behaviourism	is	that	determining	whether an	entity's	life	is	going	well	or	going	badly	can	be	sufficiently	assessed	using behavioural	criteria.	In	determining	the	welfare	of	humans,	there	is	a	tendency	to	focus on	questions	like:	Are	they	learning?	Do	they	have	friends?	Are	they	physically	fit	and able?	Do	they	have	a	sense	of	purpose?	Are	their	desires	being	fulfilled?	None	of	these things	can	be	determined	by	direct	testing	of	an	individual's	metaphysical	constitution. All	of	it	must	be	determined	by	reference	to	the	individual's	performances	and representations.	A	robot's	quality	of	life	can	be	assessed	in	a	similar	fashion,	again	using a	performative	equivalency	standard. The	second	objection	is	that	there	is	at	least	one	important	difference	between human	procreation	and	robot	procreation.	If	one	decides	to	procreate	a	human	being, then	one	has	no	choice	but	to	procreate	an	entity	with	significant	moral	status.	Human infants	are,	by	necessity,	beings	with	such	status.	If	one	decides	to	procreate	a	robot, then	one	does	have	a	choice.	One	could	choose	to	create	a	robot	that	lacks	significant moral	status	(that	fails	to	meet	the	performative	threshold).	This,	in	fact,	is	one	of Bryson's	main	points	when	she	argues	that	we	should	avoid	creating	person-like	robots. There	are,	however,	two	important	limitations	to	Bryson's	strategy.	The	first	is	that the	drive	to	create	robots	that	cross	the	performative	threshold	(which,	as	noted	above, could	be	quite	low)	will	probably	prove	too	overwhelming	for	any	system	of	norms (legal	or	moral)	to	constrain.	And	once	the	first	robot	crosses	the	performative 23 Matthijs Maas has suggested to the present author that the hacking risk is quite severe. As he sees it "if a robot capable of suffering gets hacked, this would allow the attacker to inflict massively scalable, unbounded suffering or indignity on the AI (e.g. by speeding up its clock-time, making it suffer subjective millennia of humiliation). The amount of suffering that could be inflicted on a robot is therefore much higher than that which could be inflicted on a human". This might give very good reason not to create robots with moral status. 33 threshold,	the	PPB	will	have	to	be	given	some	consideration	because	robots	with	moral status	and	better	lives	will	be	a	'live'	possibility.	The	other	limitation	is	more	important. It	might	be	very	difficult	to	create	robots	that	do	not	have	some	significant	moral	status, particularly	if	the	performative	threshold	for	moral	status	is	low.	It	may	require creating	a	robot	that	lacks	any	behavioural	manifestation	of	intention,	desire,	or	agency, which	seems	tantamount	to	requiring	that	robots	not	be	created	at	all.	As	Gunkel	notes (2018a,	94),	following	Bryson's	strategy	would	require	a	form	of	robot	asceticism	which would	be	very	difficult	to	police	and	maintain	in	practice. None	of	this	is	to	say	that	there	is	a	general	duty	to	create	robots	with	significant moral	status.	The	decision	to	do	so	–	like	the	decision	to	procreate	human	offspring	–	is voluntary	and	subject	to	other	moral	constraints.	If	the	resources	to	care	for	them	are absent,	or	if	it	would	compromise	the	well-being	of	other	morally	significant,	and already	existent,	beings,	then	maybe	they	should	not	be	created.	But	if	there	is	some attempt	to	do	so,	it	is	not	implausible	to	suggest	that	this	decision	should	be	constrained by	the	PPB. Conclusion In	conclusion,	this	article	has	argued	that	performative	artifice,	by	itself,	can	suffice for	a	claim	of	robotic	moral	status.	If	a	robot	looks	and	acts	like	a	being	to	whom	moral status	is	afforded	then	it	should	be	afforded	the	same	moral	status,	irrespective	of	what it	is	made	from	or	how	it	was	designed/manufactured.	This	is	a	counterintuitive	view, but	hopefully	it	has	been	shown	to	be	defensible	and	worthy	of	consideration.	If accepted,	it	has	significant	consequences	not	only	for	how	robots	that	have	already come	into	being	are	treated,	but	also	for	the	principles	by	which	decisions	are	made	to create	those	robots	in	the	first	place.	Although	it	is	tempting	to	think	that	robots	would have	to	demonstrate	a	high	level	of	performative	equivalency	before	they	should	be afforded	moral	status,	there	are	good	moral	reasons	to	think	that	this	is	not	the	case. 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