chapters, etc

Liberalism and Human Flourishing

5. Elements of a New Political Morality

5.1. Ethical Foundations

Mackie contends that there are no objective values, that there is nothing in the fabric of the universe, in our nature or in the commandments of a putative, external moral authority, from which one can rationally derive them. His stance might be called moral scepticism, but it should not be confused with the view that there are no moral values or that conventional moral values are bunk, rather it asserts that they are not to be discovered or received on faith. His stance might also be called moral subjectivism, but again it should not be confused with the view that people should do whatever they like or the view that moral values are simply reports of people’s attitudes. Instead, it asserts that moral values are to be made (1977: 1-49). Given differing views on moral foundations, a political philosophy should avoid if possible claims of moral objectivity.

For Mackie, a possible reason for constructing a morality is to overcome our limited sympathies towards others: without it, we could not coexist in society. Essentially, this involves a feasible extension of natural empathy to maintain a stable and mutually beneficial society (1977: 107-15). Besides this social imperative, there is an individualistic one, to direct us towards what is worthwhile in life. The morality might be deontological or teleological in character, or a mixture of both. In the next section, a mixed approach is advocated, where rules of thumb and observing rights save calculation and reduce the chance of error, but weightier matters require greater attention to consequences.

Echoing Rawls, Mackie (1977: 169-70) notes that people have irresolvably different views of the good life. Although what is good might be exemplified concretely in literature, there is no single abstract answer. What can be said in general terms is that a good life for any person is

made up largely of the effective pursuit of activities that he finds worthwhile, either intrinsically, or because they are directly beneficial to others about whom he cares, or because he knows them to be instrumental in providing the means of well-being for himself and those closely connected with him. Egoism and self-referential altruism will together characterize, to a large extent, both his actions and his motives (1977: 170).

It should not be seen as wrong that self-interest and confined generosity form an important part of the good life, although morality, in the narrow sense of constraining agents' actions towards others, may be needed to counteract some of their bad effects. Of course, co-operation and selfless acts extend beyond this, but so do competition and conflict. A practical morality must take all these elements into account (1977: 170-1).

This view reiterates Hume's, but is counter to that accepted by many modern liberals, especially those within the libertarian camp, who, although they may include family and friends in the sphere of an individual’s concern, emphasise self-interest above all else. But, as Sterba maintains, unless such emphasis is well-founded, it is question-begging against altruism (2002: 179). Ayn Rand takes self-interest to an extreme when she argues for “rational selfishness [...] which means: the values required for human survival”, a position in which “altruism is incompatible with freedom, with capitalism and with individual rights” (1969: 378, 383). Rand's pseudo-Darwinian characterisation at best only captures part of our nature, for we have always been social creatures. As Derek Wright indicates

Living in communities demands that people sometimes put the interests of others first; acceptance within any group depends on the individual acknowledging that he has obligations to the group that may take precedence over his personal wishes (1975: 126).

Altruistic behaviour is a feature of social living, a view supported by psychological evidence (1975: 127) and everyday experience. Sympathy, generosity and self-sacrifice are considered good and as such, qualities to be cultivated. But this very social approval means that unselfishness, as a practice, is not unrewarded; it can act as insurance for when you need help yourself, as well as giving you the benefit of a clear conscience. People differ widely in their possession of altruistic traits: some are self-centred and use others instrumentally, whereas others sublimate their own interests when providing assistance. Wright classes an act as altruistic when it is primarily beneficial to someone else and is motivated by a desire to help; considerations of personal advantage are overridden, but there may be subtly beneficial consequences.

Altruistic behaviour is environmentally stable only in the most general sense. Particular instances of it are always conditioned by social pressures and individual personality. Such conditions include the effect of social norms, habit and a sense of duty, but especially relevant to my account is attachment to other individuals and groups, since this condition is two-edged. "If attachment intensifies altruistic tendencies in one situation, it may weaken them in others; for attachment implies preference" (1975: 130). Thus, where there are conflicting interests, altruism towards strangers and out-groups may be inhibited in favour of family, friends and in-groups. This echoes Mackie's characterisation of self-referential altruism, where, although co-operation may extend further, conflict and competition with outsiders are present too. Psychologists have not found a functional link between attachment and altruism, but there are two suggestions:

"It is through our relationship to others, our social embeddedness, that we define ourselves. [...] My self-esteem depends on how those I value value me" (1975: 130).
We value people and serve them to the extent that they are rewarding for us. We choose as friends those who share our attitudes and interests, but are complimentary in skills and needs. Sustained friendship is reciprocal.

Both suggestions imply an indirect form of self-seeking within altruism. However, the benefits involved are self-esteem and well-being, rather than materialistic ones. Reciprocity is not just transactional; it is also informed by a sense of justice. Altruistic behaviour is uncalculated and loses its altruistic character if calculation occurs. Humans are not alone in displaying altruistic behaviour. Instinctive, altruistic behaviour is universal amongst species, helping to ensure their survival. Human altruism has instinctive features too, even if modified by cultural influences, for example, mothers protecting children (1975: 128-9). Thus, even if we cannot disentangle them, altruism is distinct from self-seeking. It is especially in our capacities for empathy and sympathy where that distinction lies.

Wright defines empathy as "one component of sympathy, namely responding to the other person's emotional expression [...] with a similar emotional response" (1975: 134). Sympathetic behaviour is initiated by an empathetic response, where sympathy involves perceiving another's distress and seeking to ameliorate the situation. Empathy is not just an important factor in altruistic behaviour, it is fundamental to social interaction, yet people vary considerably in their possession of it. Nonetheless, those who lack it, psychopaths especially, stand out, as do those who possess it in abundance. Empathetic responses may reflect a biological predisposition, but conditioning is important too. A mother's empathetic mirroring of her baby's emotions is perceived by the baby, providing the conditioning for later empathetic awareness. Wright stresses the importance of this interaction for the development of empathetic responsiveness. Sympathetic behaviour does not automatically follow: that must be learned from others. As children grow older, an emerging capacity for conceptual thinking enables them to realise that a person may be suffering, even if no obvious signs of distress are manifest. Equally, this capacity enables an unfavourable assessment of the sufferer and withholding of sympathetic action (1975: 134-6). Empathy, though, has deeper roots in evolutionary biology and nurture. Its social characteristics suggest functions which are not simply individualistic in nature. We should not make the mistake of assuming that self-referential concerns fully encompass altruistic behaviour. There is enough here not just to refute Rand’s image of humanity as completely selfish, but to question liberal neglect of altruism generally.

If Mackie’s practical morality is to be translated into a political philosophy, a further step is required. Although I want what protects and furthers my own interests and the interests of those I care about, I am not indifferent to others. My altruistic and empathetic tendencies are not entirely self-referential. I may feel hostility to some, as a result of conflict or competition, and irritation or antipathy towards others, but for the most part I wish people well even if I do little to help them beyond occasional acts of kindness or limited charitable involvement. My feelings of general benevolence, such as they exist, are not enough to motivate sustained, practical solicitude for others who I do not know, but I would like those in genuine need to receive help from some quarter. Let us assume that most people, though by no means all, feel similarly. A political philosophy that reflects these benevolent concerns, and thus receives our overall support, must allow and indeed require the state to provide assistance where insufficient is forthcoming from the voluntary acts of individuals and organisations. Thus, although founded upon our personal, practical moralities, the political morality espouses a level of benevolent action above that displayed by us individually towards unconnected persons. Surprisingly, this position is supported when applying the self-interested and self-referentially altruistic components of our personal moralities to the political philosophy. I cannot expect a political system to consistently favour my interests, and the interests of those I care about most, above the interests of all others and yet retain general support. To be universally acceptable (or nearly so), the state, as prime embodiment of the system, must observe scrupulous impartiality, especially in resolving conflicts of interest. So, if I want the state to go some way in protecting and furthering my self-referential interests, it must do the same for everyone else. Libertarians will object that they wish to place no such requirement on the state for themselves or for others, particularly with respect to action by the state in support of personal needs. Yet, only the wealthiest might have enough resources to overcome the serious adversities that can befall anyone, such as a life-changing illness or accident, or prolonged unemployment. Rational persons, in applying their self-referential interests to a political philosophy, must make allowance for these concerns. Prudentially, rational persons might want the state to act impartially and benevolently at a level above that suggested by their own disinterested altruism, but not perhaps to the level, dictated by the stronger ties of attachment, of their self-referential altruism. The state, in providing such benefits, would reflect both their self-interest and their altruism: in other words, their humanity.

5.2. The Right and the Good

An important feature of liberalism is the distinction between “the right and the good”. For Rawls the right has priority: it is not to be compromised in pursuit of the good, for example in applying “oppressive” levels of taxation to reduce inequality. It is the business of the state to protect rights. Nozick sees that as the only function of the state. By contrast, formulating and living according to a conception of the good is essentially a private matter. The distinction has an imperfect correspondence with that between deontology and teleology. Deontology is expressed in terms of rules or principles of action, rights and virtues. Actions are judged, not according to outcome, but how closely they obey these precepts. Teleology aims at achieving a good outcome according to some conception, say of happiness or fulfilment, and here actions are only morally significant in how well they serve the ultimate goal.

Yet the two ethical approaches are often complementary and mutually supportive. J.S. Mill counters a charge of impracticality by denying that utilitarianism requires a full calculation of consequences before every action. He says it would be absurd not to make use of the considered judgements of people in previous, similar situations and these are often compressed into rules or principles. He considers the use of such secondary principles is not inconsistent with the primary goal of utility, since they serve as signposts to it (1995: 24-6). Mackie agrees on the need for secondary principles, with respect to consequentialism in general (1977: 154-7). A calculation of outcomes prior to every action would be too difficult and time-consuming, even if only direct consequences were considered. In calculating repeatedly, too much weight would be given to immediate concerns over more detached judgements. Mackie points out that most actions take place in a social environment where we can rely on regularity in the behaviour of others, so that we can usually employ rules of thumb and principles towards achieving desired outcomes. The relation between teleology and deontology works the other way too. Where rights or principles conflict, a possibility which non-absolutists acknowledge, and where a deontological resolution cannot be found in terms of priority or rank, an appeal to likely consequences may decide the issue. Even where rights are held to be absolute, they are more appealing if they have generally beneficial consequences. Mackie distinguishes between moralities in the broad sense, which are all-inclusive theories of conduct, from those in the narrow sense, which just constrain the agent’s actions towards others (1977: 106). Any morality in the broad sense, even if primarily deontological, must admit teleological considerations. For example, a morality, which emphasises liberties and the constraints protecting them, leaves plenty of choice between allowed actions, where decisions are made according to likely consequences.

This interplay between deontology and teleology is not accidental. Any system of morality in the broad sense rests on a conception of the good, which applies as much to rights and virtues as goals. So although the teleologist determines goals and weighs alternatives to find the best way of achieving them and the deontologist considers the rightness or wrongness of actions, they apply measures based on the same moral foundations.

The inclusion of both deontological and teleological approaches might seem to be applicable only to a political philosophy which has aims beyond the protection of rights. However, even the libertarian state must set goals and consider the consequences of actions, not just the constraints upon them, if defence of the nation is to be effective and the burden of taxation is to be minimised. The morality on which a political philosophy rests may well be more restricted than a full theory of conduct, but it must still have a concept of goodness as its basis. Sterba says the idea that liberals are neutral towards conceptions of the good whereas communitarians are not “has bred only confusion”: in fact, liberals “are committed to a substantive conception of the good” (2002: 190). I suspect the confusion arises from the phrase “conception of the good” applying both to an individual citizen’s personal morality, where it encompasses a way of life, and to a political morality, where it determines what actions the state may reasonably take. Rawls is well aware of this duality:

I shall distinguish between two theories of the good. […] in justice as fairness the concept of right is prior to that of the good. In contrast with teleological theories, something is good only if it it fits into ways of life consistent with the principles of right already on hand. But to establish these principles it is necessary to rely on some notion of goodness, for we need assumptions about the parties’ motives in the original position (1999: 347-8).

Underlying the principles of justice is what Rawls calls “a thin theory of the good”, which, in explaining the rational preference for the primary goods (see 3.2) and defining the least favoured members of society, provides the foundations required to formulate those principles. It is only once the principles are determined that a full theory of the good emerges.

Although tempting to equate the right and the good with deontology and teleology respectively, the interdependence of the two approaches suggests a more complicated relation. Conflicts between similar ranking rights may be settled by considering consequences. A concern for individual rights and justice might well lead to the pursuit of egalitarian outcomes. Goals may be set and the actions to achieve them determined by employing secondary principles as rules of thumb. Giving due consideration to the rights of others may well have better consequences in the long term. This indicates a place for both approaches in a political morality. Some convergence between them is likely because they rest upon a common conception of the good. Where there is greater convergence, as in my philosophy with its non-absolute rights and weight given to individual as well as overall consequences, the sharp distinction between “the right and the good” is blurred. So rather than giving absolute priority to rights, a more nuanced and contingent resolution is indicated, requiring the ranking of claims and consequences. In the following section, I shall consider how that may be done.

5.3. Humanity and Rights

Let me explain what I mean by human flourishing. On an individual level it is about living the best life one can. What constitutes the best life is for every person to decide and discover. A eudaimonia-style existence is a possible ultimate goal, but satisfying more basic needs may be more urgent. The answer lies both in our nature and circumstances. It involves, to various degrees, an iterative Rawlsian process of formulating a conception of the good, revising the conception in the light of experience and contemplation, pursuing it and living it. The process is iterative, because false starts and wrong paths may require multiple repetitions of all or part. Formulating, revising and pursuing a conception may result from conscious deliberation; more likely, these activities may not be so intentional, instead prompted by unsought discoveries and the trials and errors of experience. Rather than aiming for a single conception of the good, we set ourselves intermediate, short-term goals, dependent on our abilities, opportunities, commitments and other circumstances. Longer term aspirations emerge; some are discarded, while others coalesce, consciously or not, into our conception, or conceptions, of the good. Flourishing should not be seen as necessarily achieving final goals, rather it refers to living as well as possible on the way. It is to be found in enjoying moderate pleasures and friendships of an Epicurean kind, in overcoming difficulties and dealing with tragedy, in striving for self-improvement, in helping others and in caring for those we love. It is, as Mackie says, about the effective pursuit of activities we find worthwhile (1977: 170). The experiences gained are formative of understanding, character and spirit.

If what matters most to us is that we and those we care about are able to flourish, then that concern should have primacy in our political philosophy. It is the foremost expression of our humanity, of our self-interested and self-referentially altruistic natures, which the philosophy must translate to a universal form, subject to the limits placed on general benevolence. Further, if people in a society are to flourish, then that society must also flourish. It is not enough for the political philosophy to provide space, in the form of certain freedoms, for living according to a multitude of conceptions of the good. As Berlin says, “to offer political rights, or safeguards against intervention by the State, to men who are half-naked, illiterate, underfed and diseased is to mock their condition" (2000: 233). The philosophy must truly enable flourishing and that requires asking what is the most important or urgent to our existence as individuals and as a society. The result is a list of primary social and economic goods, in order of urgency of need, akin to the augmented Rawlsian list discussed in 3.2. As in the Rawlsian list, not all freedoms are considered most urgent or important. At the highest priorities, where needs are most pressing, minimum portions of social and economic goods are secured as positive rights. Where the minima lie should ideally depend solely on the needs that must be met if flourishing is to occur, but, if the philosophy is to be practical, aggregate needs have to be balanced against the wealth of the society. A very poor agrarian society will not be able to afford the same level of health care and education as a rich, highly commercial society. This contingency might be seen as damaging the case for positive rights. Strictly, it is not the right that is contingent, but the level at which it is implemented. But the same contingency applies to the implementation of negative rights, for their effective exercise depends on the distribution of wealth, income, power and education. Ultimately, what rights are included, and how, must be decided democratically (see 6.2).

A political philosophy, that acknowledges the interdependence of the right and the good and avoids any claim to the objectivity of moral values, will not always give priority to the right over the good. Negative rights protect things of value from outside interference. Positive rights give entitlement to things of value. Rights should not be casually overturned, for that is to deny their purpose. But nor should they be upheld no matter what the consequences. The political philosophy, being derived from the practical morality based on our dual nature, requires that conflicts should be resolved on what best serves personal and social flourishing. Combining these ideas, both rights and outcomes should be ranked by this measure. Which rights and outcomes are to be considered in a conflict depends on the circumstances, including those of the contesting parties. For example, if parties are well-placed, the rights relating to minimum holdings may not be at issue. In a clash of rights, the highest ranking wins, no matter whether that is a negative or positive right. Similarly, in a choice between outcomes, where no rights are infringed, the highest ranking wins. In a conflict between rights and outcomes, extra weight is given to rights on account of their special status. Nonetheless, a high-ranking outcome will take precedence over a low-ranking right. As the political philosophy should be impartial, conflicts are viewed as between representative citizens in the given situation. So, for example, no extra consideration is accorded to those with expensive or unusual tastes. Nor should the number of people on either side of a conflict affect the decision where the opposing weighted rankings are not close. Thus a minor gain for a hundred people at the expense of a significant loss for one person, even if that gives the highest aggregate utility, would not be allowed. This protection is not the same as that afforded by Nozickean rights, for the latter would also protect the low-ranking right of a wealthy person to keep her surplus against the high-ranking claims of starving people.

5.4. Property Revisited

Grunebaum deveops an account of property ownership based on a principle of autonomy. This principle requires that

everyone ought to act so as to respect each person's equal right to decide for himself what his own good is, how to pursue it, and to promote where possible but never violate each person's fundamental well-being (1987: 143).

This has echoes of Rawlsian liberties, but the insistence on well-being requires them to be exercisable. So basic needs must be met to stay alive and make decisions. Other fundamental goods are needed too for genuine well-being. In determining relative needs, they are ranked, with basic ones first and other fundamental goods second (1987: 143-9). Grunebaum's ranking is similar to that in 5.3.

The autonomy principle requires rights over oneself which approximate to self-ownership. Each person can use himself as he chooses, subject to respecting the autonomy of others. These rights include rights over possession, management and income. However, the principle requires that land and resources are communally owned, because private ownership would not respect the autonomy of non-owners. Exclusion from decision-making about land and resources violates the rights of non-owners to decide their own good and threatens the well-being needed for autonomy (1987: 152-3).

As discussed in 3.3 and 4.3, there are social claims to income from personal labour. However, Grunebaum's idea of autonomous ownership of land and resources has some correspondence with my proposal below.

The distribution of social and economic goods above the minima guaranteed by positive rights is a function of private and public activity over generations, but, as argued elsewhere, the state must intervene to prevent it becoming too skewed. Positive rights, besides their direct purpose, enable a more equal exercise of negative rights, provided also suitable steps are taken in operating the law to remove the advantages of wealth and privilege. However, the worth of negative rights, especially of those relating to property, is far from equal. Clearly, the ownership rights of a huge plot of land are worth much more than those of a tiny one. Should negative rights only apply to the minimum necessary portions of social and economic goods, like their positive counterparts? The minimum would be very high for freedom of speech, but probably low for property rights as only personal possessions might be judged necessary. Yet, there needs to be some way of recognising the legitimacy of larger holdings. A solution is to consider negative rights as being strong in relation to minimum portions that apply equally to all, but as the goods to which they relate extend beyond those minima, the rights to each marginal portion become progressively weaker. For consistency, positive rights could be treated in the same way, applying to larger than minimum holdings, but becoming weaker the further they extend. The opposite relationship seems appropriate for the claim-rights or obligations associated with rights. For each extra portion of a social or economic good, the obligations become stronger just as the rights become weaker. If society enables you to have greater than equal shares, then you owe a greater obligation to society in return.

This understanding of rights suggests that personal possessions remain privately owned. As discussed in 3.3, private ownership is best seen as a convention, but the nature of that convention should be re-evaluated. It is not unreasonable to extend private ownership to domestic land and buildings and other small property holdings. As property holdings become larger, though, the incremental rights to them diminish and incremental social obligations increase. One way of reflecting that is to distinguish between property ownership and the rights associated with property, so that some or part of the rights are not exclusive to owners. A person could own a large area of land, but non-owners would have certain rights on it, for example, of access and of final say in deciding on changes of use. Clearly, this form of ownership is not private in the normal sense, but is not communal either. Other large holdings of land and resources, of especial interest to the local community or to the nation, could be held communally or publicly respectively. Public ownership may involve organisations, financed by but legally independent of the state. Here, as with private ownership, arms-length regulatory bodies must prevent inappropriate use. Large-scale means of production could come under public ownership, but only where that makes socio-economic sense. Greater participation by employees and other stakeholders in decision-making is a possible alternative.

To a certain extent, such measures may be seen as righting the historical wrongs of forcible expropriation and economic exploitation. I am not proposing a kind of rough justice, rather the effective use of taxation and legislation to bring about a more equitable distribution of property rights. As a result, many people would enjoy greater autonomy at the expense of curtailing rights of current large-scale property owners. However, human flourishing, not autonomy, is the deciding factor in questions of property ownership and the rights attached.