morality and freedom

MORALITY AND FREEDOM

B A C

What might be termed ‘the problem of morality’ concerns how freedom-restricting principles may bejustified, given that we value our freedom. Perhaps an answer can be found in freedom itself. Forif the most obvious reason for rejecting moral demands is that they invade one’s personal freedom,then the price of freedom from invasive demands that others would otherwise make may well requireeveryone accepting freedom in general, say, as a value that provides sufficient reason for adhering toprinciples that serve to maximize, or at least safeguard, freedom in general. But then it is preciselysuch a value, freedom in general, which can be argued to ground an adequate moral system. Hencewhereas the value of freedom appears at first sight to pose problems for moral systems, it can beemployed to ground a certain variety of them.

I. THE PROBLEM OF MORALITY

Morality seems to presuppose freedom. Unless one’s actions are free, itappears that they are not subject to moral appraisal.1 But it is freedom itselfwhich seems to pose the greatest challenge to morality. For what might becalled ‘the problem of morality’ could be stated thus:

Some moral principles enjoin us to perform actions of type α, evenwhen we would not perform an action of that type were it not for themoral principle in question, while other moral principles enjoin us notto perform actions of type β, even when we would perform an action ofthat type were it not for the moral principle in question. But what couldpossibly justify a principle that restricts our freedom to choose not toperform type-α actions or to choose to perform type-β ones?

In a word, how can freedom-restricting principles be justified?2 I suggestthat an answer may well lie in freedom itself.

1 However, ancient Greek tragedy seems to reveal that this was not always presumed to beso. See M. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness (Cambridge UP, ), esp. p. .

2 Herbert Hart, for one, seems to emphasize freedom-restricting principles when heanalyses ‘a right’ as entailing ‘having a moral justification for limiting the freedom of anotherperson and for determining how he should act’: H.L.A. Hart, ‘Are There Any NaturalRights?’, Philosophical Review, (), pp. –, at p. .

The Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. , No. April ISSN –

© The Editors of The Philosophical Quarterly, . Published by Blackwell Publishing, Garsington Road, Oxford , UK,and Main Street, Malden, , USA.

But before I proceed, three remarks are in order. First, I am not, ofcourse, claiming that ‘the problem of morality’ is the only problem of moral-ity. The definite article merely denotes the seriousness of the threat thisproblem poses, and is not intended to suggest that moral problems areexhausted by this particular challenge.

Secondly, personal freedom is clearly not our only value;3 and for some itis not even the most important. But if one valued one’s material well-being,say, more than one’s freedom, then the problem of whether or not to pursueone’s personal well-being at the expense of the well-being of others wouldonly arise if one were free to act thus. One way in which one would not befree to pursue one’s personal well-being in the manner one desired is if thecontemplated actions turned out to be immoral. Consequently the un-restricted pursuit of other values may well presuppose that no solution canbe found to the problem of morality. Some might wish to go so far as tosurrender their freedom in return for greater well-being. But moral agencyrequires a measure of freedom. And it can be argued that it is immoral toattempt to abdicate one’s moral responsibility.4 This seems to imply thatbecause freedom is a precondition for one’s moral agency, it would beimmoral to abdicate one’s freedom. So one might value other things morethan freedom. But one first needs to know whether or not one is free topursue those other values. The problem which freedom presents to moralitytherefore seems central.

Thirdly, it may well be the case that moral requirements are not alwaysviewed as restrictions on freedom. Autonomous moral agents who valueacting morally might feel no conflict between freedom and morality. Theymay succeed simultaneously in acting morally and in acting freely. For suchfortunate agents, the problem of morality simply does not arise with regardto their own actions. Thus identifying a cogent justification for a moralsystem might not seem a pressing requirement for them. But what is such agenuinely moral agent to say to someone who does feel a considerableconflict between freedom and morality? Those who feel the demands ofmorality to be unjustifiable constraints on their freedom are precisely thesort of people who most need to be presented with a justification of morality.For such people, a solution to the problem of morality appears essential. Yetit is just such people who, in preferring their own freedom, seem to presentthe greatest challenge to the advocates of any moral system. And insistingthat one can feel free in acting morally is hardly an adequate response to

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© The Editors of The Philosophical Quarterly,

3 For an indication of how one might theorize the relationship between plural values, seemy ‘Value-Pluralist Egalitarianism’, Journal of Philosophy, (), pp. –, and ‘MoralTheory and Global Population’, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, (), pp. –.

4 See, e.g., R.P. Wolff, In Defense of Anarchism (New York: Harper & Row, ), esp.pp. –.

those who have just pointed out that in actual fact they feel moral demandsto constitute a serious infraction of their freedom.

II. THE PROBLEM IN REVERSE

I shall begin by turning the problem of morality on its head. In other words,what could possibly justify rejecting a principle which restricts our freedomto choose not to perform type-α actions or which restricts our freedom tochoose to perform type-β ones? Here, for the detractor of morality just en-visaged, the answer seems obvious. The value we place on our freedom tochoose is what poses the immediate problem for any freedom-restrictingprinciple. (And it is interesting that Samuel Scheffler should seek to limit thedemands of morality by justifying agent-relative prerogatives.5 For what areagent-relative prerogatives, if not the freedom to do or not to do whatmorality would otherwise forbid or require?)

The above suggests that the problem of morality arises fundamentallybecause of the value of freedom. Indeed, were it not for the value of free-dom, it might be thought that the problem of morality would simply notarise. For if freedom is without value, why would we need to justify a principle whichrestricts our freedom? In short, it seems that moral principles require justi-fication only on the presupposition that freedom has value. Hence whilemorality seems to require freedom,6 it is the value we place on freedom thatappears to generate the problem of morality.

Either freedom has value or it has not. If freedom lacks value, then theproblem of morality seems to require no answer. On the other hand, if one’spersonal freedom does have value, and if we are to take moral prescriptionsseriously, then it appears that we need to provide some answer to thequestion of what could justify discounting that value. And were we able todo so, we would have provided an answer to the problem of morality. Thisimplies that if we want to justify moral principles, then we need onlyconsider the worst case, namely, when it is accepted that the freedom tochoose is valuable. So in order to address the problem of morality, I shallassume just that, namely, that freedom has value. To be more precise, Ishall assume that our freedom to perform any action we choose is of value,as is our freedom to choose not to perform any particular action. And I shallfurther assume that our freedom to bring about some outcome is also ofvalue.



5 See S. Scheffler, The Rejection of Consequentialism (Oxford UP, ), esp. ch. .6 To allay a possible fear, for one account of freedom which is not incompatible with

causality see T.M. Scanlon, ‘The Significance of Choice’, in S. Darwall (ed.), Equal Freedom:Selected Tanner Lectures on Human Values (Univ. of Michigan Press, ), pp. –.

Why assume the latter? It is notable that just as we sometimes regard anaction we have performed as valuable because it is the action of our choice,we sometimes regard its outcome as valuable precisely because it is theoutcome we chose to bring about. We sometimes object to another personundermining actions we have chosen to perform, on the ground that theaction was the one we chose and the other has thwarted our choice. Simil-arly, we sometimes object to another undoing outcomes we have chosen tobring about, on the ground that the outcome was the one we chose and thatour choice has now been frustrated. So in order to strengthen the problemof morality further, I shall assume that both the actions we perform andtheir outcomes are valuable, precisely because they are what we havechosen. (This strengthens the problem of morality, because if our actions ortheir outcomes are valuable for some reason other than that we have chosenthem, then the value in question could be employed to justify a moral de-mand that the action should be performed or the outcome brought about.)

But how could it be possible for the voluntary performance of an actionand the choosing of an outcome to make the action and/or the outcomevaluable? The most plausible answer appears to be something like this: ifwhat we have chosen is valuable because we have chosen it, then it seemsthat it is our choosing which confers value upon whatever was chosen. Andit appears that it could not do so unless our choosing was itself valuable.This seems to suggest that what we have chosen has derivative value, andthat it possesses that value because our freedom to choose has intrinsic orinherent value. Or to put it another way, if our freedom to choose is indeedvaluable, then by virtue of its intrinsic or inherent value it is able to conferderivative value upon whatever is chosen.7

However, this seems to place restrictions on our choices. For we mightchoose to act in a way that would result in a significant reduction of thefreedom to choose. But both the action and the outcome chosen would onlyhave derivative value, while the freedom to choose had intrinsic or inherentvalue. The loss in intrinsic or inherent value could be argued to outweigh oreven negate the derivative value of any such chosen action or outcome. Thechoice of an action or outcome that significantly reduced the freedom tochoose could only be justified in terms of the value of freedom if the deriva-tive value conferred on that action or outcome was of greater or highervalue than the value-conferring intrinsic or inherent value that the freedomto choose itself possessed. But many would find this highly implausible.

Hence it could be argued that the value possessed by the freedom ofchoice provides reason for ruling out those actions and outcomes that would

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7 For a parallel argument concerning the value-conferring property of human reason, seeC.M. Korsgaard, Creating the Kingdom of Ends (Cambridge UP, ), esp. p. .

significantly undermine the freedom to choose. In short, if a principle is suchthat it maximizes,8 or at least safeguards, the freedom to choose, then wecannot, on pain of contradiction, justify choosing to reject that principle onthe ground that freedom of choice has value. Therefore as long as theprinciples which appear to the individual as freedom-restricting principlesare in actual fact principles that are freedom-maximizing, or freedom-safeguarding, then they are justified. And this means that if moral principlesturn out to be freedom-maximizing, or freedom-safeguarding (I have inmind two possible moral systems: one which systematically minimizeslimitations on the freedom of choice; and one which serves merely tosafeguard it), then the problem of morality appears to be solved. For ifviolating a moral principle leads to a reduction in the freedom of choice,then having chosen to violate that principle must be of lower value than thefreedom of choice which adherence to the principle in question furthers, orat least protects.

In a word, choosing to violate such a principle is not an actual choicewhich the value of freedom could sanction. Thus if a strong case can bemade that moral principles are in actual fact freedom-maximizing, orfreedom-safeguarding, then they would be justified even in the worst case:when it is accepted that the freedom to choose is valuable.

III. THE INDIVIDUALIST OBJECTION

Unfortunately for the defender of morality, this is all far too quick. For whilethe above defence of moral principles might run along the right lines –while this might be the general form that any cogent defence of moralityought to take – matters are not as simple as they might thus far appear. Andthis is because one might very well value one’s own freedom to choose, butnot that of others. Freedom-restricting principles that serve to maximize orsafeguard freedom often restrict an individual’s freedom in order tomaximize or safeguard the freedom of other people. But individuals mighteasily place great value upon their own freedom, the freedom which hasbeen restricted, and no value at all on the freedom of others – the freedomthat in this instance would be maximized or safeguarded by adhering to theprinciple in question. I shall call this ‘the individualist objection’.

Are there any responses that might be provided to an objection of thissort? I shall begin by considering a contractualist one.



8 Strictly speaking, ‘minimizes limitations on the freedom to choose’ would be preferable to‘maximizes the freedom to choose’. I employ the latter simply because it is less cumbersome.

IV. HYPOTHETICAL AGREEMENT

Were we all voluntarily to give our express consent to certain principles forgoverning social intercourse, then we would be under an obligation to act inaccordance with those principles. Unfortunately we do not have the time toenter into specific, express agreements with everyone. But as we are socialcreatures, we need, at least at times, to make demands on others. And weinevitably find others making demands on us. But none of us wants thedemands made by others to be excessive, because we all value our freedom.Moreover, the demands we make of others might be regarded by them asexcessive. So how, without concluding specific, express agreements in ad-vance with everyone we might ever encounter, are we to ascertain, first,what would constitute excessive demands upon others, and secondly, whatwould be excessive for others to demand of us? The sheer impossibility ofentering into express agreements with everyone in advance appears to forcecontractualism to rely on hypothetical, rather than actual, agreements.

So what hypothetical agreements which might be considered to governsocial intercourse could we safely take for granted? To be more precise,given that we would like to identify the principles that can be appealed to inorder to establish which demands we may legitimately make upon othersand which of their demands we may legitimately reject, it seems that weneed to ascertain what we could safely presume all would agree to, in orderto provide the basis for appraising the various demands we might makeupon one another. Hence where we have not entered into any actual agree-ment with others, it appears that it would be mutually beneficial were weable to presuppose with confidence that we would all agree to certainprinciples.

It could be argued that the only principles we could realistically presumethat all would agree to must be based upon general values. The argumentmight run as follows. According to the kind of contractualism I am nowconsidering, we are to appraise demands on the basis of a presumption con-cerning what hypothetically we would all agree to. And it seems that anyhypothetical agreement must be limited to what others would at least beable to agree to were they all in a position to contract together. So to iden-tify the terms of the hypothetical contract we would first have to ascertainwhat agreements would be possible if we could all meet together to draw upsome form of social contract in advance. But what exactly would suchcontractors agree to? It is surely irrational for anyone to presuppose that wewould all agree to principles which were premised upon according value to

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one’s own freedom but which failed to respect the value other persons placeupon theirs. Individuals could not simply presume agreement to their owndemands on the basis of the freedom they valued, and not be equallyprepared to allow others to justify their demands on the same terms. But theonly particular freedom I value might be my own, and the only particularfreedom you value might be your own. Hence it appears that any argumentsupporting a social contract must appeal not to the particular instance offreedom valued by any particular person, but to the value of freedom ingeneral or to the value of the freedom of all. In a word, it is only if some-thing like freedom in general is a shared value that one can safely assumethat all contractors would agree to certain principles governing freedom.

But then one cannot appeal to freedom in general in order to rejectindividually freedom-restricting principles that serve to maximize, or at leastsafeguard, freedom in general. Nor can one appeal to the freedom of all inorder to reject individually freedom-restricting principles that serve tomaximize, or perhaps safeguard, the freedom of all. In short, one can hardlyappeal to the value of freedom (or free agency) in order to escape respons-ibilities deriving from principles which, as a matter of fact, serve tomaximize or safeguard the freedom of agents. Hence all the contractualistneed do is point out that those who value their freedom would agree toprinciples which serve to maximize or at least safeguard freedom.

V. THE UNREASONABLENESS OF REJECTINGMORAL PRINCIPLES

But why assume that merely hypothetical contracts are binding? In law, forexample, one cannot hold others to contracts they would have signed, butdid not.9 What is, arguably, a more interesting form of ‘contractualism’, onewhich appears to side-step this objection, could perhaps develop the aboveresponse to the problem of morality as follows.

We are born into a world that very quickly begins to make demands ofus. From an early age, we find our parents prohibiting us from performingcertain actions, and demanding that we perform others (and if they did not,their lives would very soon become unbearable). And we find ourselvesblamed for failing to adhere to their demands unless we can offer anadequate justification. It is not surprising, therefore, that we grow up with astrongly felt need to justify ourselves in the face of possible criticism. Buthow can we offer a general justification of our actions? T.M. Scanlon has



9 See R.M. Dworkin, ‘Justice and Rights’, in his Taking Rights Seriously (London: Duck-worth, ), esp. p. .

famously proposed that we can do so in terms of principles it would beunreasonable for others to reject.10

Others might provisionally choose to accept principles which it was notunreasonable for them to reject. We might propose a principle for theirconsideration which disadvantaged them, but which they nevertheless con-ditionally accepted because, in that particular case, they did not especiallymind being disadvantaged. However, it would nevertheless remain the casethat it would not be unreasonable for them to reject such a principle. To putthis another way, such a principle would be one which, at any time, personswould be free to choose to reject.

So if we are to justify ourselves, which is something we have all beensocialized into needing to do, then we can do so by reference to principleswhich persons are not free to choose to reject. But if amoral or, a fortiori,immoral principles are appealed to, then ex hypothesi they fail to justify ouractions, because they are such that others would be free to choose to rejectthem at any time. And, importantly for my present concern with the pro-blem of morality, what this means is that Scanlon’s notion of ‘reasonableness’appears to presuppose, implicitly, that the freedom of choice is valuable.Hence when Scanlon employs the value of choice in order to explain certainfeatures of morality, he is not, as he thinks he is, appealing to a new value(see his ch. ). He is merely unpacking a value which his core notion of‘reasonableness’ presupposes, and he is merely drawing out some of itsimplications. In this way, Scanlonian contractualism can be argued to bemore cohesive than it appears at first sight.

Why might it be thought that the value of freedom of choice is pre-supposed in Scanlon’s notion of ‘reasonableness’? Because it seems that wewould only agree that others were free to choose to reject unreasonableprinciples if the freedom to choose was itself considered to be of value. But ifthe value of the freedom of choice could not be employed to ground therejection of a specific freedom-restricting principle, then we may justify ouractions by reference to it. Such principles would certainly include ones thatmaximize or at least safeguard the freedom to choose. Hence one responseto the individualist objection might appeal to the need to justify ourselves onthe basis of what is reasonable and what is not.

But this particular contractualist response to the individualist objectionseems to rely on the fact that as we grow up we acquire a strongly felt needto justify ourselves in the face of possible criticism. This felt need appears to

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10 See T.M. Scanlon, ‘Contractualism and Utilitarianism’, in A. Sen and B. Williams (eds),Utilitarianism and Beyond (Cambridge UP, ), pp. –. More recently Scanlon hasabandoned the felt need to justify one’s actions as a basis for contractualism. His emphasisnow is on what he takes to be the motivating power of reasons: What We Owe to Each Other(Harvard UP, ), esp. pp. –.

arise first within the family. However, some might counter that this is aresponse to our socialization: rather than internalizing it, we would do wellto grow out of it. Hence it might be objected that there is no compellingrequirement to justify ourselves. Nevertheless it is difficult to see how socialintercourse could be sustained unless we were able to justify our behaviourto one another in some sense. And, many would maintain, we each havean interest in sustaining decent social intercourse.11 For, many would alsomaintain, while co-operation within a community appears to benefit us all,conflict can leave us all worse off.

VI. A DIRECT APPEAL TO SHARED VALUES

Thus far I have indicated how contractualists might respond to the indi-vidualist objection. But there are reasons for thinking that contractualismwould not take us far enough. To take the first variety of contractualism Ihave considered, in appealing to what individuals would hypotheticallyagree to, contractualists might easily leave out those whose agreement couldbe forgone. For example, as many assume that distant future persons cannotpossibly harm us,12 then it might be concluded that we have no reason toenter into any kind of agreement with them – either actual (which would beimpossible) or merely hypothetical.

But perhaps the kind of response proffered above to the individualistobjection could be developed in a less contractualist manner. Perhaps wecan avoid reliance on hypothetical agreements. And perhaps we do not needto ascertain what others may not reasonably reject, either. Were we able toforgo reliance on the latter condition, there would be clear benefits, giventhat the notion of ‘reasonableness’ employed in the second variety ofcontractualism considered is not wholly unproblematic. For one thing,within a contractualist framework it might allow too great a role for self-interest than is compatible with any genuine morality.13 Alternatively,‘reasonableness’ might suggest less self-interested principles because italready has too many moral or political preconceptions built into it,14 so thatto employ it as a defence of morality (or even political morality) would be to



11 See, e.g., Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. P.H. Nidditch (Oxford: Clarendon Press,), p. .

12 Some think that we cannot possibly harm distant future persons. For a rebuttal of thisview, see my ‘Can We Harm Future People?’, Environmental Values, (), pp. –, and‘On Harming Others’, Environmental Values, (), pp. –.

13 See J. Griffin, Well-Being (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), pp. –.14 The former is arguably the case with the approach found in Scanlon, What We Owe to

Each Other, and the latter with the approach found in J. Rawls, Political Liberalism (ColumbiaUP, ).

beg the question. How, then, might we proceed in a less contractualistdirection?

The above argument might be persuaded to leave behind its contractual-ist shell, as follows. It is clear that we cannot always rely on our own physicalstrength. None of us can do so when we are very young, and many cannotdo so when they are very old or when they are sick. So we all have made,and most can expect in future to make, demands upon others. And othersmake demands upon us. The problem of morality is thus a Janus-faced one.It includes a reference to both our freedom from the demands made uponus by others and their freedom from the demands we make upon them. Ofcourse, on occasion, at least some will possess the strength required to im-pose demands on others and to resist their demands. But physical strengthwanes. However, the relevant ‘strength’ might not always be a function ofone’s own physique. It could derive from one’s location within a set of poli-tical institutions. But even that creates the possibility of future vulnerability.For if one is a dictator, for example, one will rely on subordinates contin-ually acceding to one’s demands. And one may always face the possibility ofa future coup d’état. So there will probably be times in the future when eachof us will lack the strength to impose our demands upon others or to resistany demands they might make of us. Moreover, there were times when eventhe strongest lacked the strength required to impose demands on others andto resist their demands. Consequently at those times even the strongestneeded the demands of others to be confined. And not only are we unable toresist others at every stage of our lives, there are also times in each person’slife when assistance must be obtained from others.

Hence, initially at least, it does seem that each of us needs some form of‘agreement’ regarding limitations on demands that others might make. Buthow are we to ‘agree’ that certain demands are not to be made upon us?How can we obtain the ‘agreement’ of others not to make too many de-mands upon us when we lack the strength (when very young or very old) toresist their demands forcibly, or even when we possess the strength butwould prefer to avoid the use of force (which might, at the very least, proverisky or counter-productive)? And why should we agree to any restriction onthe demands we make upon others when they are powerless to resist us?

The proposed contractualist answers appeal to a value: the value offreedom. However, instead of locating that value within a contractualistaccount of what it can be presumed everyone would agree to, or in terms ofwhat it would be unreasonable to reject, why not simply appeal to the valuedirectly? There seems to be some benefit to be gained from doing so. Whenwe are strong enough to impose upon others, they often need us not toimpose upon them, just as we need others not to impose upon us at times.

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But a simple form of contractualism will not always solve this problem, ashas been intimated. For the need is not a simple reciprocal relation. Thosewe could impose upon may never be able to impose upon us. So we cannotsimply obtain the agreement of others not to impose upon us on thepresumption that they will need us not to impose upon them later. Thus itseems that the only appropriate ‘agreement’ we could rely on is that ofsubscribing to a shared value: an ‘agreement’ on the value of freedom.

But as each of us will, at crucial times, require some such ‘agreement’,then the appeal to the value of freedom would have to be a genuine one. Forif one does not really value freedom in general, say, but only one’s ownindividual freedom, and if one simply pretends to value freedom in generalin order to persuade others to accede to one’s demands, then one has noreason at all to think that others are not playing the same game of pretence.One would have no good reason for thinking that others will be genuinein respecting one’s freedom when the time comes for them to act inaccordance with such an ‘agreement’. In short, the price of the ‘agreement’we all require is that freedom in general or the freedom of all must be heldas a genuinely shared value.

This kind of ‘agreement’ goes beyond simple reciprocity, and thus seemsto be some advance on contractualism. For appeal to the value of freedomincorporates the freedom of future persons who cannot enter into reciprocalrelationships with us. Instead of relying on reciprocity, one can ‘sign up’ tothe value of freedom. One can thereby appeal directly to the value of free-dom when defending oneself against the impositions of others. But inappealing directly to the value of freedom, and in ‘signing up’ to it, con-sistency requires that one recognize others’ direct appeals to that value.

But then it seems that one could appeal to the value of freedom in orderto evade moral demands. Hence valuing freedom in general, say, ratherthan simply valuing one’s own individual freedom, might seem to strengthenthe problem of morality. But as the earlier arguments indicate, in actual factit dissipates it. Or at least it dissipates it for certain moral systems, namely,those that are freedom-maximizing or freedom-safeguarding. For one can-not coherently appeal to the value of freedom in general or to the value ofthe freedom of all in order to evade the demands of a moral system whichserves to maximize or at least safeguard freedom. And this implies thatcontractualism is unnecessary. One does not, it seems, require hypothetical‘agreements’ at all. What is required, rather, is shared values. In particular,all that appears to be required is the shared valuing of freedom regardless ofwhose freedom is at stake.

Most crucially, this is a value we each have a vital interest in bringingothers to share. For each of us needs others to value a freedom that is not



their individual freedom. In a word, one needs others to value one’s ownfreedom. And for people living within a society where each can influencethe values held by others, the appropriate shared values can be expected toarise15 – for one thing, parents have an interest in bringing up their childrenso that they value, at least to some degree, the freedom of others; for ifchildren value the freedom of others, that includes valuing the freedom oftheir parents.

VII. THE NECESSITY OF ACCEPTING SHARED VALUES

Unfortunately, none of the arguments as stated seems to be fully convincingas a defence of morality. One might refuse to seek agreement, or confine itto a far smaller number than genuinely moral concern would require. Orone might challenge the notion of ‘reasonableness’. Or, and this appears tobe a weakness in the last argument, one might still claim to share someparticular value, but dissemble, in the hope that everyone else is a sucker.

Nevertheless the above arguments attempting to answer the problem ofmorality do seem to have something in common which certainly appears tocarry some weight, even though it seems to be not wholly sufficient in theforms thus far presented. All of the above potential responses to the problemof morality have in common at least an implicit reference to some need forother persons to accept that one’s freedom is of value. I have noted that, attimes, some of us can obtain the ‘acceptance’ of others by means of physicalforce. But all of us experience times in our lives when the acceptance byothers of the value of our freedom must rest elsewhere, whether on actualagreements, on hypothetical ones, on the unreasonableness of denying thevalue of our freedom, or directly on the value of freedom itself. But whenthings are put in this way, the possibility of a slightly different way ofadvancing this general line of argument begins to open up – one thatappears to be more compelling.

The argument is this. It begins in many respects like the others. We livein a society. We make demands on others and others make demands on us.(In fact, this is one way in which rights ‘in the strictest sense’ could beconstrued. For example, Judith Jarvis Thomson argues that Hohfeldianclaims are simply constraints upon others’ behaviour.16 And we could easilyview the relation between a behavioural constraint and a demand as anintimate one.) Sometimes those demands – social demands – might seem too

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15 John Stuart Mill presents a similar argument, but regarding welfare: cf. Utilitarianism, OnLiberty and Essay on Bentham, ed. M. Warnock (London: Fontana, ), p. .

16 See J. J. Thomson, The Realm of Rights (Harvard UP, ), esp. p. .

invasive to us. But we cannot always resist those demands forcibly. Hencewe need others to accept that at least some of what they might demandwould be too invasive. But how are we to gain that acceptance? We cannotdo so if each of us only values our own individual freedom. For if one wereto object to invasive demands simply on the ground that they impingedupon one’s freedom, others would laugh ‘Yes, but we do not value yourfreedom, only our own’. One can only gain acceptance by others that theirdemands would be too invasive by appealing to freedom in general or to thefreedom of all. One cannot simply appeal to that token which is one’s ownindividual freedom. One must, at the very least, appeal to freedom as a type.It is only by appeal to the value of freedom in some such form that onestands any hope of getting others to accept that the demands they wouldotherwise make of us would be too invasive.

In appealing to such a value, one cannot then refuse to accept an appealby others to that very same value without incurring their condemnation.And what is morality, if it does not include something like that, at its core?On the other hand, some may enjoy the physical power that can forcecompliance on the part of others. But in so far as the exercise of such powerinvades others’ freedom, in so far as it disrespects their freedom, they havean interest in the promotion of the value of freedom in general or the free-dom of all. They have an interest in general acceptance that the flouting ofthe value of freedom in general, or the freedom of all, is deserving of con-demnation.17 In short, there is a widespread interest in viewing the floutingor disrespect of individual tokens of freedom as worthy of condemnation.And that is, perhaps, best accomplished by the valuing of freedom as a type– by valuing freedom in general.

But at this point, it might be surmised, the individualist objection surfaceswith a vengeance. For surely it is not to freedom in general that one appealswhen seeking to evade the demands of morality. It is to the value one placeson one’s own personal freedom. But in response it can be argued that thefurtherance of one’s own personal freedom requires that others accept thatthe value of freedom in general overrides their own personal freedom. Mostcrucially, this means that the furtherance of one’s own personal freedomneeds the value of freedom in general to provide others with a reason forsubordinating their own personal freedom to it. But whatever is a genuinereason for them will apply to oneself too. Hence the value of freedom ingeneral must override one’s own personal freedom. And for many it clearly



17 It could further be argued that they also have an interest in having freedom ‘seen’ as an‘objective’ universal value: see my ‘Humean Nature’, Environmental Values, (), pp. –,and ‘Hume and Nature’, in H. LaFollette (ed.), Ethics in Practice, nd edn (Oxford: Blackwell,), pp. –.

does. Many have willingly given their lives while fighting in the name offreedom. But it could not have been the furtherance or the safeguardingof their own personal freedom for which they valiantly fought. Their free-dom (and certainly their free agency) was lost with their heroic deaths.

I have noted that if we are to justify our behaviour to others, then it seemsthat we must do so in terms of reasons which are general in form. But then ajustificatory reason would justify all relevantly similar actions performed byall relevantly similar persons in all relevantly similar circumstances. How-ever, such a reason is only likely to carry weight if it cites or grounds a valuewe share. I cannot justify my actions to you in terms of a freedom which Ivalue but which you regard as valueless. Hence my own individual freedom,which has value for me but not for you, will not support the requiredjustificatory reason. It is only something like freedom in general, say, thatcould constitute the relevant value – a value we could all, in principle,recognize.

So one might try to cite the value of one’s own personal freedom as theground for rejecting moral demands. But if others are to accept that they arenot to invade too far into one’s personal freedom, the value of freedom in generalmust provide sufficient reason for restricting their personal freedom. But then whateverprovides a genuine reason for them must equally apply to oneself. And iffreedom in general overrides their personal freedom, it must override one’sown too. Hence in order to evade moral demands, it would have to be tothe value of freedom in general that one appealed, for this must be takento override personal freedom. But it is precisely the value of freedom ingeneral which cannot be appealed to in order to evade principles that serve,as a matter of fact, to maximize or safeguard freedom in general. Hence, onpain of inconsistency, the maximization, or safeguarding, of one’s personal freedomcommits one to the valuing of freedom in general over one’s own personal freedom. Andthat prevents one from appealing to freedom in any form in order to evadecertain moral systems.

This does seem to provide an answer to the problem of morality. In short,it does seem that if one is to argue cogently for others to take seriously one’srejection of certain social demands and to respect that rejection, one cannotappeal to one’s individual token freedom. Rather one must appeal tofreedom as an abstract value – freedom as a type – or to the freedom ofeveryone. But then one cannot evade the demands of moral principles byappealing to any such value if those principles should, as a matter of fact,serve to maximize or at least safeguard that very same value. In particular, ifA seeks to evade the demands of others, A needs them to accept that A’sfreedom is valuable. But that is only likely in so far as A’s freedom is viewedby others as an instance of freedom in general or as a part of the freedom of

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all. But A can hardly then expect others to accept that A is free to evade thedemands of principles which serve to maximize or at least safeguardfreedom in general or the freedom of all.

In a word, then, there are freedom-restricting principles which requireour acceptance and which we cannot justify rejecting, and which we areoften brought within society to value. And the principles which clearlyrequire our acceptance, and which we cannot justify rejecting, are thoseindividually freedom-restricting principles that serve to maximize, or at leastsafeguard, freedom in general or the freedom of all. If the rejection of aprinciple requires that freedom of choice be accepted as having sufficientvalue to provide a reason for acting, then principles which maximize orsafeguard the freedom to choose cannot justifiably be rejected. Or, at thevery least, their rejection will not elicit acceptance by others. And whereassome may not always see the need for reaching agreement – some might, onoccasion, feel that they can live as free agents without co-operation – theneed for acceptance, in the above sense, seems obvious. For unless othersaccept that their demands are too invasive, they will, inevitably, infringe ourfreedom. All social interaction runs some risk of excessively invading thepersonal freedom of others, especially if there are no constraints accepted onthe demands we may make of each other. And we make demands of otherpeople all the time, even if the demand is simply to be left alone.

In essence, then, we all seem to need everyone else to respect our freedomto some degree. But that only appears possible if freedom in general, or thefreedom of all, is viewed as constituting an overarching value which providessufficient reason for acting according to principles that serve to maximize, orat least safeguard, freedom in general, or the freedom of all.

VIII. FREEDOM AS THE BASIS FOR A SUBSTANTIVE MORALITY

However, in order to identify those individually freedom-restrictingprinciples which are in actual fact freedom-maximizing, or freedom-safeguarding, we would first need to analyse what is involved in the freedomof choice. And it would take me too far afield were I to embark on a lengthyconsideration of the debate between those who subscribe to a negative andthose who adhere to a positive conception of ‘freedom’.18 But perhaps it willsuffice to say that Gerald MacCallum Jr argues persuasively against the very



18 See I. Berlin, ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’, in his Four Essays on Liberty (Oxford UP, ),pp. –; C. Caudwell, ‘A Study in Bourgeois Illusion: Liberty’, in his The Concept of Freedom(London: Lawrence & Wishart, ), pp. –; C. Taylor, ‘What’s Wrong with NegativeLiberty’, in A. Ryan (ed.), The Idea of Freedom (Oxford UP, ), pp. –; R. Norman, Freeand Equal (Oxford UP, ).

distinction between negative and positive freedom. Both can be charac-terized as dyadic relations – one concerning the freedom of agents frominterference, the other concerning the freedom of agents to do something –whereas, MacCallum argues, freedom is in fact a triadic relation:

Whenever the freedom of some agent or agents is in question, it is always freedomfrom some constraint or restriction on, interference with, or barrier to doing, notdoing, becoming, or not becoming something. Such freedom is thus always of some-thing (an agent or agents), from something, to do, not do, become, or not becomesomething; it is a triadic relation. Taking the format ‘x is (is not) free from y to do (notdo, become, not become) z’, x ranges over agents, y ranges over such ‘preventingconditions’ as constraints, restrictions, interferences, and barriers, and z ranges overactions or conditions of character or circumstance. When reference to one of thesethree terms is missing in such a discussion of freedom, it should only be because thereference is thought to be understood from the context of the discussion.19

In other words, the freedom of agents always involves their being free fromsome interference so that they are able to do something. Freedom concerns arelationship between three terms, not just two. Hence according to Mac-Callum the distinction between negative and positive freedom, a distinctionbetween two dyadic relations, fails to differentiate between two genuinelyalternative kinds of freedom. At best, in MacCallum’s view, the distinctionbetween negative and positive freedom over-emphasizes one or otherfeature of every example of freedom concerning agents.

Both the negative freedom usually espoused by individualists and thepositive freedom often espoused by collectivists seem partial and inadequate.If MacCallum is right, then being genuinely free seems to require both ‘posi-tive’ and ‘negative’ sides to be satisfied. But then this would mean that thevaluing of freedom would demand more of us than is usually presupposed.And this implies that a considerably more substantial system of moralitycould, in principle, be justified by premising it upon the value of freedomthan might at first be presumed.

Just how substantial a moral system could be justified becomes clearwhen one takes into account the difficulty of legitimately appealing to thevalue of the freedom of choice in order to justify the rejection of a principlethat safeguards the preconditions of choice. It is widely held that Alan Gewirthfails in his attempt to justify morality on the basis of an agent having todemand as a right the proximate necessary conditions for agency.20 But all

ALAN CARTER


19 G.C. MacCallum Jr, ‘Negative and Positive Freedom’, in P. Laslett et al. (eds), Philosophy,Politics and Society, th series (Oxford: Blackwell, ), pp. –, at p. .

20 See A. Gewirth, Reason and Morality (Univ. of Chicago Press, ), esp. pp. –.Regarding Gewirth’s argument, Brian Barry writes ‘In finding it wanting, I am followingthe consensus of philosophers who have discussed it’: Theories of Justice (Hemel Hempstead:Harvester Wheatsheaf, ), p. .

of the substantive conclusions that Gewirth seeks to justify would in fact begrounded by the response to the problem of morality sketched here, were itto prove successful.

For one example, it seems that it could safely be presumed that the valueof freedom will justify certain rights. However, not all rights can be viewedas equal. Instead, as Gewirth remarks, ‘rights fall into an order of priority inthat one right is morally more mandatory than another in so far as theformer is more necessary for agency’.21 Moreover, it is clear that we requirea certain level of well-being if we are to act freely.22 It is difficult to act as afree agent if one is starving to death. How, then, are we to rank well-beingand certain forms of freedom? As Gewirth argues (‘Starvation and HumanRights’, p. ), ‘The rights of starving persons to be fed take precedenceover the rights of other persons to make free use of all their propertybecause the former rights are obviously more important for agency than thelatter’. Hence for the affluent to refuse to send food to the starving in othercountries, for example, simply on the ground that it is an interference withtheir property rights, would be at best to give the wrong moral weighting toproperty.23 The well-being of others must surely take priority in such a case.

Thus it appears that the value of free agency alone can be used to arguefor very strong obligations to provide aid to other persons. In a word, a richnotion of ‘freedom’ can be employed to generate a rich morality.24

IX. THE NEED FOR OBJECTIVE-SEEMING VALUES

Finally, it should be noted that reasons can be provided for how the value offreedom might transcend our own individual concerns for our ownparticular levels of freedom. For example, we are aware that what we desireat any one moment is not always in our interests. We may also feel thatour lives can go badly even when we have no knowledge of the fact. If ourfriends and family deceive us, it can be said that our lives go badly even ifwe never find out. Furthermore, many of us value making something valu-able out of our lives as a whole. But then the value we seek for our livescannot simply be a subjective one. As Griffin argues (Well-Being, pp. –),



21 A. Gewirth, ‘Starvation and Human Rights’, in K.E. Goodpaster and K.M. Sayre (eds),Ethics and the Problems of the st Century (Univ. of Notre Dame Press, ), pp. –, at p. .

22 Rawls seems to acknowledge as much when he places a certain level of income prior tohis liberty principle: A Theory of Justice (Harvard UP, ), p. , and Political Liberalism, p. .

23 One could go further and question whether property rights carry any moral weightingat all. See my The Philosophical Foundations of Property Rights (Hemel Hempstead: HarvesterWheatsheaf, ).

24 Indeed, to see how comprehensive a moral system could be justified simply on the basisof the freedom of agents, see Gewirth, Reason and Morality, chs –.

One of our aims is to live a life of substance or value or weight. Another, not farremoved, is to understand ourselves and our surroundings. These aims are themselvesquite complex. We want to be in touch with a reality outside ourselves. We do notwant just to have convincing impressions of having a life of value, of accomplishingsomething with our lives. We also want to have clear perceptions of the reality aboutus, including the reality of other persons. They too have interests, which matter asmuch to them as ours do to us. And since we want to live a life of value or weight, wehave to decide what a valuable life is. This is a point, among many others, at whichprudence and morality will not stay apart. A valuable life, in the sense that we arenow trying to understand, cannot just be a life filled with prudential values conceivedin fairly narrow self-interested terms. A valuable life, in the sense we are after, consistsimportantly in doing things with one’s life that are themselves of sufficiently sub-stantial value to turn back on the life itself and make it valuable. And we cannot seewhat we do in those necessary terms if we have no regard for, or if we damage, valuesgenerally, including the value of other persons’ lives.

Griffin (p. ) acknowledges that this does not constitute ‘an argument formorality in the narrow sense’. For it is always possible for a person

to live a life of value and substance by single-mindedly painting his pictures, ignoringall his family responsibilities. But it is a life of value and substance only if his paintingsare also of substantial value and, in the end, valuable to the rest of us. Prudence can-not be kept in narrow confines. What is prudentially valuable must, at various points,spread out into areas that do not look like a part of prudence at all. The boundarydefining prudence cannot, along this frontier, really be fixed.

We therefore appear to need more objective-seeming values to measure ourlives by.

But, we can add, choosing a valuable life requires the freedom to chooseit – a freedom we must therefore value. However, if the required valuesneed to appear objective, then it seems that it is freedom, as just such anobjective-seeming value, which we require. But then it is unlikely that itwould be one’s own personal freedom, rather than freedom in general or thefreedom for all, that constitutes the appropriate, objective-seeming value.For if it is to appear real and objective, it must be a value which stands somechance of being ‘perceived’, or at least accepted, by all.

X. CONCLUDING REMARKS

The most obvious reason for rejecting moral demands is that they invadeour personal freedom. But the price of freedom from invasive demandswhich others would otherwise make of us (including moral demands) is tosee freedom in general as a value that provides sufficient reason for adheringto principles that serve to maximize, or at least safeguard, freedom in

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general or the freedom of all. But then, paradoxical as this might at firstseem, it is precisely such a value that can be argued to ground an adequatemoral system.

However, it might be objected that the problem of dissimulation has notreally been addressed adequately. For one might hope that others will seethe value of freedom in general or the freedom of all without one’s having tosee it oneself, thereby maximizing one’s personal freedom. Clearly, any whoseek exemption for themselves would be seeking freedom from moral de-mands. Unfortunately for them, though, such demands are not simply madeinternally; they are also made upon us by others. And one cannot be free ofthe demands made by others unless they ascribe some value to one’s indi-vidual freedom. But that they would do so surely depends upon it beingviewed as an instance of freedom in general or upon it being viewed as apart of the freedom of all. Hence, even for the dissemblers, it remains truethat their freedom from the demands of others depends upon at least thoseothers accepting that the value of freedom in general or the freedom of allconstitutes a powerful reason for curbing their demands. But if theirdemands are consistent with maximizing or safeguarding freedom in generalor the freedom of all, then one cannot escape such demands being made ofone. Indeed, if the demands made by others are consistent with maximizing,or safeguarding, freedom in general or the freedom of all, then that is thebest that those preoccupied with maximizing, or safeguarding, their indi-vidual freedom could realistically hope for.

Consequently if freedom in general, say, is valued by others, then one willnot be free from moral demands. And if one fails to ‘see’ the value of free-dom in general, and thus fails to accept that it provides reason for respectingthe freedom of others, then one will inevitably incur moral censure fromthose who do ‘see’ its value. Moreover, there is a price to be paid by anyonewho denies that the value of freedom in general or the freedom of allconstitutes a powerful reason for curbing the demands one might feelinclined to make of another: if no such value generates a compelling reason,then one cannot claim that others ought not to make demands upon one.Hence the moment anyone demands that others ought to leave everyoneelse alone and stop making moral demands of others, that person is thenimplicitly committed to the claim that the value of freedom in general, orthe freedom of all, constitutes a powerful reason for curbing the demandsone might feel inclined to make of another. But it is precisely such animplicit claim that can be employed to ground moral demands.

Nevertheless it might still be insisted that all one actually requires is forothers to respect one’s own freedom while one pretends to respect theirs.But then what is to stop others simply pretending too? The only guarantee



that one’s freedom can be maximized or safeguarded is if freedom ingeneral or the freedom of all does actually constitute an overarching value thatprovides sufficient reason for acting according to principles that serve tomaximize, or at least safeguard, freedom in general or the freedom of all.But then if either freedom in general or the freedom of all does constitutesuch an overarching value, it must provide oneself, and not just others, withsufficient reason for acting according to principles that serve to maximize, orat least safeguard, freedom in general or the freedom of all. If neither thevalue of freedom in general nor the value of the freedom of all constitutessufficient reason for restricting one’s own actions, then there can be noguarantee that either provides sufficient reason for restricting the actions ofothers. Indeed, one might even go so far as to claim that a necessary postu-late for the maximization, or safeguarding, of one’s own individual freedomis that either the value of freedom in general or the value of the freedom ofall provides sufficient reason to guide all freedom-affecting actions. And thatincludes one’s own.

Of course all this constitutes only the barest sketch of a response to theproblem of morality. But perhaps enough has been said to indicate thatthere is considerable mileage in the claim that freedom, presupposed in theproblem of morality, can provide its solution. But not only might the aboveapproach be taken to support moral principles, it might also be thought todefend political institutions as well. However, it seems clear that the onlypolitical institutions which could rest upon the kind of moral principlesdefensible along these lines would be freedom-maximizing or freedom-safeguarding ones. And, of course, just as it would not defend all politicalinstitutions, the argument deployed above would not defend all moralsystems. It would only support those that were freedom-maximizing, orperhaps freedom-safeguarding. But then, just as with political institutions,moral systems which are not freedom-maximizing, or at least freedom-safeguarding, are not systems I should wish to defend. Indeed, if the aboveargument only supports freedom-maximizing, or freedom-safeguarding,moral and political systems, I consider that to be its strength, and not aweakness.

University of Colorado at Boulder

ALAN CARTER


morality and freedom

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