Shelly Kagan

Typically, discussions of the nature of well-being focus only on the positive elements—those things that directly constitute someone’s being well off or better off. But an adequate theory of well-being also needs to give an account of ill-being, the negative elements that directly constitute being badly off, or worse off. This chapter asks how to extend a particular nonstandard theory of well-being—according to which well-being consists in the enjoyment of objective goods—so as to cover ill-being as well. In effect, then, it tries to discover the opposite of well-being, according to this nonstandard theory. This chapter tries to answer the question: what is ill-being when well-being is enjoying the good? Graphs are used throughout to illustrate the alternative possibilities, and to help display the surprising complexity of the most plausible answers.

Typically, discussions of well-being focus almost exclusively on the _positive_ aspects of well-being, those elements which directly contribute to a life going well, or better. It is generally assumed, without comment, that there is no need to explicitly discuss _ill-being_ as well—that is, the part of the theory of well-being that specifies the elements which directly contribute to a life going badly, or less well—since (or so it is thought) this raises no special difficulties or problems. But this common assumption is a mistake, since it is far from obvious how to extend even familiar theories of well-being so as to explicitly cover ill-being as well. This paper acts as an introduction to ill-being, noting some of the interesting and overlooked problems ill-being raises for qualitative hedonism, preference theory, and objective list theories. Particular attention is paid, by way of illustration, to the claim that knowledge is an objective good. Assuming this is so, what exactly is the opposite of knowledge, the objective bad which lowers one’s well-being in the same way that knowledge raises it?

This comment asks us to imagine that we have discovered a principle that completely matches our intuitions about the various actions that might be performed in all the different versions of the trolley problem. Would that constitute a solution to the problem of providing a plausible principle to cover these various cases? Not necessarily, since the principle might turn on distinctions that have no obvious moral significance, and we might be unable to provide the principle with a compelling and plausible rationale. It argues that this might well be the situation we find ourselves in with regard to the book’s proposed solution to the trolley problem: even if the principle does match our intuitions in how it sorts the cases, it is difficult to see why the distinctions on which it turns should matter, and appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, this comment believes the book has not provided the principle with a plausible account or rationale.

Chapter 8 takes the assumption that underlies the replaceability argument for granted, if only for the sake of argument. It assumes, with Singer, that outcomes should be evaluated in terms of the quantity of welfare that they contain (i.e. the impersonal view), and that existence as opposed to never existing can benefit an individual. The chapter argues that individuals that have desires for the future can be excluded from the scope of the replaceability argument. There is no need for preference utilitarians to complicate their view in various ways in order to exclude (human or nonhuman) persons from replaceability. The chapter argues that even according to a simple version of preference utilitarianism, persons are not replaceable and should therefore be granted a stronger protection against killing. The chapter shows that it is possible to grant animals a stronger protection against killing within a utilitarian framework.

People differ in terms of how morally deserving they are. And it is a good thing if people get what they deserve. Accordingly, it is important to work out an adequate theory of moral desert. But while certain aspects of such a theory have been frequently discussed in the philosophical literature, many others have been surprisingly neglected. For example, if it is indeed true that it is morally good for people to get what they deserve, does it always do the same amount of good when someone gets what they deserve? Or does it matter how deserving the person is? If we cannot give someone exactly what they deserve, is it better to give too much-or better to give too little? Does being twice as virtuous make you twice as deserving? And how are we to take into account the thought that what you deserve depends in part on how others are doing? The Geometry of Desert explores a number of these less familiar questions, using graphs to illustrate the various possible answers. The result is a more careful investigation into the nature of moral desert than has ever previously been offered, one that reveals desert to have a hidden complexity that most of us have failed to recognize.

In Morality by Degrees, Alastair Norcross defends a view he calls “scalar consequentialism.” I argue, first, that Norcross does not use the term consistently, since in most passages this seems to refer to a version of consequentialism that rejects all claims about rightness altogether, yet in other passages Norcross claims that scalar consequentialists should nonetheless embrace his favored “contextualist” account of rightness. I also argue, second, that the particular arguments offered by Norcross as to why consequentialists should forgo more traditional consequentialist accounts of rightness (such as maximizing or satisficing) are unpersuasive.

Even if the existence of constraints is granted, if only for the sake of argument, the need to defend options still remains. This chapter turns to that defence. It considers three arguments that attempt to establish options – given the existence of constraints – without appealing to the cost to the agent of promoting the good. The first argument holds that unless there are options, agents unavoidably violate constraints when they impose sacrifices upon themselves. The other two arguments hold that the existence of constraints entails the existence of rights, which in turn entails the existence of options. But none of these arguments succeeds.

Defenders of ordinary morality must establish the existence of constraints, including a constraint against harming. This chapter distinguishes between two basic ways that this particular constraint can be characterized – either as a constraint against doing harm, or as a constraint against intending harm – and then focuses on the first. A constraint against doing harm presupposes a distinction between doing harm and allowing harm. But although we can provide some intuitive motivation – in terms of the idea of interfering – for viewing this distinction as morally significant, when we try to carefully articulate this distinction we end up sorting cases in a way that is intuitively unattractive. In any event, attempts to defend the relevance of the distinction are ultimately unsuccessful, as are attempts to show that the distinction would truly support a constraint against doing harm.

This comment asks us to imagine that we have discovered a principle that completely matches our intuitions about the various actions that might be performed in all the different versions of the trolley problem. Would that constitute a solution to the problem of providing a plausible principle to cover these various cases? Not necessarily, since the principle might turn on distinctions that have no obvious moral significance, and we might be unable to provide the principle with a compelling and plausible rationale. It argues that this might well be the situation we find ourselves in with regard to the book’s proposed solution to the trolley problem: even if the principle does match our intuitions in how it sorts the cases, it is difficult to see why the distinctions on which it turns should matter, and appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, this comment believes the book has not provided the principle with a plausible account or rationale.

This chapter lays out the basic elements of ordinary morality, according to which there is only a limited requirement to promote the overall good. In particular, ‘constraints’ impose restrictions on permissible means of promoting the good, and ‘options’ free us of the obligation to promote the good – even within the limits set by those constraints. We are free to make large sacrifices for others, but typically are not required to do so. This is an intuitively attractive position, but there is more involved in defending a moral view than showing its intuitive appeal. The most natural defence of options appeals to the cost to the agent of promoting the good, but this appeal leads to unacceptable results unless we can first defend constraints as well, and many straightforward attempts to defend constraints are inadequate.

Given the difficulties surrounding the attempt to defend constraints, we need to reconsider the possibility of defending options without assuming the existence of constraints. A view that incorporated options but not constraints would be a departure from ordinary morality, but might be attractive nonetheless. This chapter first explores the structure of such a theory, and then argues that it cannot avoid unacceptable implications unless it presupposes the moral relevance of one of the distinctions discussed in the two previous chapters, such as the distinction between doing and allowing harm. But that distinction remains problematic and inadequately supported, even given the more limited use being made of it here.

There are two distinct ways of elaborating the thought that only moral systems with options adequately reflect the nature of the personal point of view. This chapter evaluates the first of these – the negative argument – which holds that a general requirement to promote the overall good will inevitably lack the motivational underpinning necessary for genuine moral requirements; options are thus a concession to the nature of persons. Examination of an analogous argument with regard to the requirements of prudence reveals the potential significance of vivid belief in providing motivation. Reason is then given for thinking that despite the bias in favour of one's own interests, people are, in principle, capable of being moved to promote the overall good.

According to the positive argument, the personal point of view is not a mere hindrance to moral action, but a source of genuine and distinct values. There are thus reasons for the agent to act in keeping with the subjective point of view, and if morality is to provide space to do this, it must include options. If successful, this argument might provide a justification not only for options but for constraints as well. But it is far from clear that there are any genuine values that cannot be adequately accommodated within the objective standpoint; and even if there were subjective reasons of this sort, they would simply ground new moral requirements, rather than options.

This chapter explores certain technical details concerning the characterization of ordinary morality. First, it argues that defenders of ordinary morality believe in the existence of a pro tanto reason to promote the good, a reason that always has weight, even if it can be overridden. Second, it offers an account of what conditions must be met for there to be a moral requirement to perform a given act. Third, it sketches in general terms what the defender of ordinary morality must show if both options and constraints are to be defended. Finally, it argues that this overall approach does not beg any questions against the defender of ordinary morality.

This chapter begins to examine the defence of options in terms of an appeal to the potential cost to the agent of promoting the good. It suggests, first, that cost here should be understood in terms of the loss involved to the agent's ability to promote his various interests, and it examines how well such an account fits with ordinary views about the range of options. It then asks how, exactly, the appeal to cost is supposed to justify options. The most promising answer takes off from a general account of the nature of the personal point of view, combined with the thought that morality must adequately reflect the nature of people.

If options cannot be defended, then there is a general requirement to promote the good. Appropriate political and social structures have an important place in seeing to it that this requirement is met, and in somewhat reducing the nature of the sacrifices that may be required in meeting it; but there is no getting around the fact that morality can demand a significant overall sacrifice of one's interests. However, moral agents are free, and we are required to use this freedom to change ourselves so as to better meet the demands of morality.

The second way to characterize a constraint against harm is as a constraint against intending harm. This presupposes a distinction between harm that is intended as a means or an end, and harm that is merely foreseen as an unintended side effect. We can again provide some intuitive support for this distinction – in terms of either the idea of using someone or the idea of aiming at evil – but here too the distinction ends up sorting cases in ways that are intuitively unattractive. And once again, attempts to defend the relevance of the distinction are ultimately unsuccessful, as are attempts to show that the distinction would support a constraint.

This book examines a variety of arguments that might be thought to support skepticism about the existence of morality, and it explains how these arguments can be answered by those who believe in objective moral truths. The focus throughout is on discussing questions that frequently trouble thoughtful and reflective individuals, including questions like the following: Does the prevalence of moral disagreement make it reasonable to conclude that there aren't really any moral facts at all? Is morality simply relative to particular societies and times? What could objective moral facts possibly be like? If there were moral facts, how could we ever come to know anything about them? Shouldn't belief in the theory of evolution undermine our confidence that our moral intuitions reliably reveal moral truths? Would moral facts ever actually explain anything at all? Can morality really have the motivating and rational force we normally take it to have? How can one possibly find a place for objective moral values in a scientific worldview? The book explores plausible answers to questions like these and it thus aims to show why the belief in objective morality remains an intellectually reasonable one.

Cover -- Half Title -- Title -- Copyright -- Dedication -- Contents -- Acknowledgments -- 1 Preliminaries -- 1.1 What Normative Ethics Is -- 1.2 What Normative Ethics Is Not -- 1.3 Defending Normative Theories -- 1.4 Factors and Foundations -- PART I FACTORS -- 2 The Good -- 2.1 Promoting the Good -- 2.2 Well-Being -- 2.3 The Total View -- 2.4 Equality -- 2.5 Culpability, Fairness, and Desert -- 2.6 Consequentialism -- 3 Doing Harm -- 3.1 Deontology -- 3.2 Thresholds -- 3.3 The Scope of the Constraint -- 3.4 Doing and Allowing -- 3.5 Intending Harm -- 4 Other Constraints -- 4.1 Lying -- 4.2 Promises -- 4.3 Special Obligations -- 4.4 Conventions -- 4.5 Duties to Oneself -- 5 Further Factors -- 5.1 Demanding Too Much -- 5.2 Options -- 5.3 Rights -- 5.4 Interaction -- PART 2 FOUNDATIONS -- 6 Teleological Foundations -- 6.1 Foundational Theories -- 6.2 Egoism -- 6.3 Virtues -- 6.4 Act Consequentialism -- 6.5 Rules -- 7 Deontological Foundations -- 7.1 Contractarianism -- 7.2 Universalizability -- 7.3 The Ideal Observer -- 7.4 Reflection -- 7.5 Foundational Pluralism -- 7.6 Possibilities -- Suggested Readings -- References -- About the Book and Author -- Index.

Although the nature of moral desert has sometimes been examined in axiological terms—focusing on the thought that it is a good thing if people get what they deserve—deontologists typically think desert is more appropriately treated in terms of duties and obligations. They may, for example, prefer to talk in terms of there being a moral duty to give people what they deserve. This essay distinguishes a number of forms such a duty might take, and examines four of them more closely. (In particular, it looks at positive and negative duties with regard to both comparative and noncomparative desert). Questions about the contents of each of these duties are raised, making clearer just how much work would be involved in spelling out the relevant duties more completely. The essay concludes with a brief discussion of the possible implications of such desert-based duties for population ethics.

In my forthcoming book, How to Count Animals, More or Less (based on my 2016 Uehiro Lectures in Practical Ethics), I argue for a hierarchical approach to animal ethics according to which animals have moral standing but nonetheless have a lower moral status than people have. This essay is an overview of that book, drawing primarily from selections from its beginning and end, aiming both to give a feel for the overall project and to indicate the general shape of the hierarchical position that I defend there. In this essay, I contrast the hierarchical approach with its most important rival (which holds that people and animals have the very same moral status), sketch the main idea behind one central argument for hierarchy, and briefly review three potentially troubling implications of the hierarchical view. I close with a discussion of a promising possible solution to the most worrisome of the three objections.