Once dubbed ‘the most dangerous man on Earth’, the world-renowned moral philosopher discusses accepting capitalism, the return of Trump and disappointment in his most famous work’s impact
Peter Singer misses the beach. After two decades working in the US the world renowned moral philosopher returned not to his old haunt of bayside Melbourne but its urban centre. He has made do with a “fairly natural” scrubby bushland walking track along the city’s Merri Creek. “I think they’ve done a pretty good job here,” he says approvingly.
Singer’s manner is dry with a hint of bemusement, still with that same flat Australian accent. He discusses mind bending ethical dilemmas with a pragmatic delivery that’s almost disarmingly casual but softens when he briefly explains why he’s left the bay behind. “Our kids live near here,” he says – “and they wouldn’t move to us!” Ranging in ages from 12 to 20, his grandchildren are “now all in this same little pocket, and they come for dinner usually once a week, sometimes we play cards.”
After calling time on his stint as professor of bioethics at Princeton’s University Center for Human Values, Singer delivered a final lecture at the end of 2023. His PowerPoint presentation began by quoting the horrified reaction to his controversial appointment in 1999 (a former alumni likened it to a sign of the “decline of western civilisation”). This was, after all, the man once dubbed the “most dangerous man on Earth” by critics for his views on issues such as voluntary euthanasia, abortion and advocating for parents’ right to selective euthanasia of their disabled newborn babies.
The presentation touched on his 2021 launch of the Journal of Controversial Ideas, the “sad” demise of disgraced crypto billionaire and proponent of effective altruism Sam Bankman-Fried (with a slide entitled “Be good but don’t be sketchy!”) before plugging his website and ending with a disarmingly casual line, “OK, that’s about it guys …” The final slide featured a photo of Singer in a wetsuit, board under one arm and the caption: “Bye, I’ve gone surfing.”
The man widely recognised as a foundational thinker for the modern animal rights and effective altruism movements says he’s been too busy to devote proper time to the hobby he took up in his 50s after “graduating from boogie boarding”. The 80-year-old might have stopped teaching but is not exactly retired (in the last few years he has launched a podcast, a global alliance for corporate philanthropy and an AI version of himself). But he does have a favourite break at a beach south-west of Melbourne. “I like being out there in the ocean and waiting for the right wave,” he says. “Looking at where it’s going to keep breaking and trying to get there.”
The southern beaches of the Surf Coast of Victoria seem a long way from Princeton, but Singer was more than ready to call time on America, even before Trump’s second term. “It was during Biden’s presidency … and I didn’t really expect Trump to be president again at that time but, certainly, the whole climate was getting more polarised, the fact that he was a major figure … made it bad enough.”
At the time, Singer railed about then president Joe Biden’s reluctance to bow out of the presidential race. Of his own decision to retire from teaching at a similar age he says “some professors at Princeton stay on too long, and sure they may still be being good teachers when they’re 80, but sometimes it’s good to make space for younger teachers.” He still marvels at the fact that Trump was voted in a second time.“I think they were tired of the Democrats,” he says. “They wanted somebody who would throw the system up, throw it up in the air, and it would come down differently.”
Singer has never shied away from weighing in on politics. In 1996, he stood unsuccessfully as a Greens candidate for the Australian Senate and that same year co-wrote a book, The Greens, with party founder Bob Brown. He cuts a cracking pace as we tackle a steep hill, but asked if there’s any part of him that wishes he was still in the US to witness the Trump presidency a second time, he defers to a one-word answer.
Catching our breath at the top, he’s grimly matter of fact: “I couldn’t have made any difference. It’s less painful in a way.”
We stop at the Merri Creek stone labyrinth, when Singer notices a particularly bright orange, extremely ugly fungus in the grass and stoops over to poke at it. He identifies it, as a stinkhorn. Singer, it turns out, knows his mushrooms, and doesn’t mind the occasional forage in a pine plantation (“though you can find field mushrooms round here”.) He’s more likely to scan the ground when he walks than the canopy.
“I mean, I like looking at birds, magpies for instance are wonderful and I love the call of the currawong but, you know, I’m not going to eat them,” he quips.
That, of course, brings us to the work that Singer is most well known for. First published in 1975 after Singer and his wife, Renata, were inspired to become vegetarians themselves, Animal Liberation argues that sentience is the crucial consideration that obligates humans to give equal consideration to the interests of animals.
In 2023, Singer updated the book that launched a generation of animal activists and in the process rewrote almost three-quarters of it, including more about climate change and “whether the animal movement has made progress”.
Animal Liberation is widely credited for inspiring millions of people to become vegetarian and vegan, but he waves that impact away. “I wanted people to know they shouldn’t be buying factory farmed products. But it’s still a niche group of people which took that on, which is very disappointing,” he says. He doesn’t dwell on it, but he does dismiss the book’s significance: “You have to say, looking at it, my book has not succeeded in what I wanted it to do.”