A SHORT DISCOURSE ON MORALITY

I. INTRODUCTION

What is morality?  Sometimes this question seems so formidable that students get stuck right here.  They needn't.  Morality is something quite familiar to everyone.

Start this way: think of morality as a vocabulary with a particular function (or better: a set of functions).

(i)

Here are some examples of the vocabulary.  We can describe someone as generous, miserly, kind, good-hearted, selfish, decent, malicious, courteous, venal, cruel, faithful, fair-minded, arrogant, conscientious.  We can distinguish acts of courage, ingratitude, atonement, reciprocity, injustice, civility, retribution, kindness.   We can recommend such values and ideals as liberty, autonomy, community, veracity, happiness, loyalty; and warn against their opposites, slavery, oppression, mendacity, and the like.  Moreover, we respond to conduct by ourselves and others with the distinctive moral emotions: outrage, shame, guilt, remorse, pride, indignation, fellow-feeling, sympathy.

In sum: by means of a moral vocabulary, we can characterize people, actions, states of the world, ideals, goals, and emotions.

(ii)

What functions does this vocabulary underwrite?  What do we use this moral language to do?  We make moral descriptions and characterizations in order to criticize, instruct, reprove, evaluate, guide, bind, release, blame, appreciate, and justify, among other things.

Having offered this list of things we do with moral language, it is very important to emphasize the dual aspect of moral descriptions and characterizations.  We apply this language to ourselves as much as to others.  What I mean is that we use moral language for self-criticism, self-reproach, self-justification, self-instruction, and self-guidance as much as for criticism, reproach, justification, instruction, and guidance of others.

How could we ever set and apply standards to ourselves, for example, if we couldn't feel shame or guilt, and recognize our feelings as shame or guilt?  Moreover, we expect that others, too, experience and comprehend shame and guilt, and are capable of responding to moral descriptions of their conduct or character.  We criticize, reproach, justify, instruct, and guide others (a) for their own good and (b) for the good of third parties.  For example, we might chastize our erring child in order to get him to correct some piece of bad behavior; or we might do so more to warn or impress our other children.

In conclusion: think of morality as a vocabulary with several important functions.

II. VOCABULARY

Let's consider further the vocabulary of moral assessment and how it relates to other vocabularies.  We use a moral vocabulary to make morally loaded descriptions.   For example, we might describe someone in these words:

"cowardly" "foolhardy" "venal" "vicious"

A morally loaded description carries with it a built-in moral pointer. The description points us directly toward a particular moral conclusion or attitude.  For example, we don't describe someone as cowardly and then look around for reasons to judge whether she failed her duty, or was a bad person, or deserves blame or censure, or ought not be admired.  If we accept the description "cowardly" of a person, then we already accept that she failed her duty, or wasn't an admirable person, or deserves blame (unless there are excusing circumstances).  The morally appropriate attitude is built into the description; the appropriate conclusion to draw is already there.

In contrast, if next to the first list of moral descriptions we put a list of parallel morally neutral descriptions, we see right away how the latter leave open the direction or outcome of moral evaluation:

"cautious" "bold" "income-seeking" "fierce"

Describing a person as cautious leaves open what moral attitude we should take up toward her.   That is because sometimes being cautious is the right way to be (whereas being cowardly is never the right way to be).  Similarly, boldness may or may not deserve our praise, depending on the circumstances (but being foolhardy never deserves our praise).  Moreover, there's nothing inherently wrong in seeking income, and fierce attacks can sometimes be justified (while venality and viciousness are always wrong).

I set out these parallel descriptions not only to illustrate the difference between morally loaded and morally neutral descriptions but also to show how we connect up the two kinds of descriptions.  We connect them up by saying, for example:

>her caution was induced by fear and generated a response too limited for the seriousness of the threat; thus, she was cowardly;

>his action was too bold for the circumstance; the risks taken were way out of proportion to the possible gains; thus, it was foolhardy;

>she carried out her income-seeking in a corrupt way (e.g., by taking a bribe); thus she was venal;

>his fierce attack was malicious and unfair; thus it was vicious.

Of course, you might resist these efforts at connecting-up by retorting:

>>no, the caution was not too limited; it was an exercise of judicious discretion;

>>no, the boldness, though daring, was just what the circumstances called for;

>>no, that wasn't a bribe but an open and appropriate payment for past services;

>>no, the attack was deserved and within the rules.

And so on, back-and-forth we might go.

Moral argument is, in large part, like these examples; it is a matter of making and contesting descriptions.  You morally describe a situation one way; I dispute your description and offer a different one.  But this doesn't mean our dispute is merely verbal, a dispute only about words.  We have to connect up the moral words appropriately with other descriptions.  You can't say: "out of fear I didn't take the needed step, but I wasn't a coward."  You can't say: "Yes, I took a bribe, but I wasn't venal."  You can't say: "I was reckless and irresponsible, but I wasn't foolhardy;" and so on.  Moral concepts map onto the world in certain ways -- morally loaded descriptions have to be connected up with certain neutral descriptions -- and we have to achieve a reasonable amount of accurate mapping if we want our morally loaded descriptions to be credible.

III. MORAL DISAGREEMENT

There are, thus, two ways we could differ in our descriptions of a particular case, and two kinds of error we can make in moral argument:

(i)

We can disagree about the appropriate neutral description (the facts) of the case. In our example above, we might disagree about the motive of the person who acted cautiously: was she truly motivated by fear?  [We both agree that over-caution motivated by fear is cowardice.]  You say yes, she was motivated by fear, I say no.  We adduce evidence: I have her testimony that she wasn't fearful; but you show she's been untrustworthy in past testimony; and so on.  One of us could be in error about the facts.

(ii)

Or, we can disagree over the application of a moral concept to a case. Consider this extended example:

I accuse you of ingratitude because you won't give me your extra ticket to the World Series this year.  Last year, when I had tickets, I gave you an extra one.  You should now feel a debt, I claim.  You resist my assertion.  You don't owe me anything, you insist.  You point out that when I gave you the ticket last year, you hadn't asked for it and I gave it to you just to spite someone else, who knew I had an extra ticket and wanted it badly, and who would be deeply humiliated knowing you got the ticket instead.  So, although I did something good to you, I didn't do it for your sake but for my own ulterior purposes.  Thus, under those circumstances, you don't owe me anything.  If I persist in saying you are ungrateful, that just shows that I'm confused about what gratitude really requires, about what gratitude really is.    I think (incorrectly) that gratitude means a person feeling indebted to return a good done to him when in fact it means a person feeling indebted to return a good to done him for his own sake.

To repeat: two kinds of error are possible in our moral disputes: (1) error about the facts underlying an application of a moral concept; and (2) error about the appropriate application of a moral concept to a given set of facts.  It is important to keep these two kinds of error straight.  Moreover, having distinguished these errors, we can now appreciate more fully how a good command of moral vocabulary is crucial if our arguments are to go well.

In our argument about gratitude, you and I would come quickly to an impasse unless my faulty understanding of gratitude were corrected.  So it is with other arguments, as well.

Command of moral "grammar" is especially important in those cases involving the most general notions deployed in moral argument -- duty, liberty, equality, obligation, etc.   Let's pursue this point with an example of a very contentious contemporary argument that makes use of a central moral/political/legal concept: "having a right to."

III. DISAGREEMENT AND THE "GRAMMAR" OF MORAL CONCEPTS

Consider the role "having a right" plays in this argument:

The government has a duty to fund abortions for poor women.  The Supreme Court has found a right to abortion in the Constitution.  By refusing to fund abortions for women who can't afford them, the government denies these women their Constitutional right.  The government has a duty not to deny people their rights.

Is this a sound argument?  Whether it is depends upon what a "right" is and what kind of Constitutional "right" women have to abortion.

(i)

The phrase, "a right," can stand for several distinct propositions.

[1] "A right" might mean "a mere liberty" (mere permission).  For example, suppose we say, " The rules of football give the halfback the right to cross the opposing team's goal with the football."  What would we mean in this case?  We would mean this: the rules permit the halfback to cross the goal if he can.  Notice this last phrase, "if he can."  It is crucial in two respects.  First, if the halfback stumbles to the ground while running to the goal, or drops the ball and doesn't cross the goal, no one has violated his right.   Secondly, if opposing players tackle him or make him run out of bounds, they haven't violated his right either.  In this case, where only a mere permission is at issue, no opposing player has a duty not to interfere with the halfback's attempt to cross the goal, much less a duty to help him.

[2] "A right" might mean "a liberty plus."  When we say, for example, that under the Constitution, individuals have the right to publish their opinions, we mean something more than we meant in the football case.  We mean: the Constitution permits individuals to publish their opinions if they can; and, further, no state official may interfere to stop such publication.  Just as in the first case, if an individual can't publish her opinions because she hasn't learned to write, or because she spent her money on extravagant travel rather than on a printing press, or whatever, no one has violated her right.  So far, this case parallels the football case. B ut the two cases diverge at this point. I f an individual can't publish her opinions because the government has prevented her, someone has violated her right.   In this case, no one has a general duty to help the individual publish her opinions, but someone ("the government") does have a duty not to interfere.

[3] "A right" might mean "a claim to performance."  When we say that under the Constitution, a person has the right to trial by jury, we mean: a person has a claim upon the government that it duly empanel a jury and submit its case to that jury if it wishes to convict him of a crime.  The government has an affirmative duty to act (although the individual is free to waive his claim upon the goverment).  Likewise, to say a person has the right to habeas corpus is to say that he has a claim that the government show cause why it should detain him against his will.  In each case, the right-holder can demand a certain kind of performance; and someone else (here, the government) has a duty to make the demanded performance.

[4] "A right" might mean "a power."  When we say that people have the legal right to make a will, we mean (among other things): an individual has the legal power to change the legal rights and entitlements of other people.  For example, by bequest I can entitle SPA on my death to possess my entire estate (and all its riches).  Otherwise, SPA has no right (= no claim) to any part of my estate.

[5] "A right" might mean "an immunity."  When we say that the Constitution confers a right against self-incrimination, we mean: individuals are legally immune from being required under oath to testify against themselves concerning matters that might incriminate them.

(ii)

So, the phrase, "a right," can mean a great many different things on different occasions.  In fact, it often means a great many distinct things in a single instance. For example, the football case is not as simple as I left it.  While it is true that the halfback has no claim against opposing players that they help him or not interfere with him (so, with respect to them his right is a "mere liberty"), he does have a claim against the referees and officials of football that they enforce the rules; and this claim incorporates both a right ("liberty plus") that officials not interfere with his running except for due cause (e.g., they can nullify his run on a penalty but not otherwise) and a right ("claim to performance") that they prevent any other unauthorized interference.

Likewise, my right to make a will is really a cluster of liberties, claims, powers, and immunities: I am permitted to make a will; in making a will, I have the power to effect changes in other people's entitlements; as a consequence of my will, my heirs have a claim against the courts that they enforce the terms of the will; and my heirs are immune from state distribution of my estate according to a pattern it favors rather than the pattern established in the will.

(iii)

Now, return to our original argument about abortion and women's Constitutional rights.   Knowing something about the grammar of "rights" can help us clarify the argument.  For example, the crucial premise -- "By refusing to fund abortions for women who can't afford them, the government denies these women their Constitutional right" -- is true only if "their Constitutional right" incorporates a "claim" for government assistance.  Now, what exactly is the Constitutional right to abortion?  Some background might be helpful here.  In Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court applied to abortion some earlier rulings about Constitutionally protected "privacy rights."  The most important earlier ruling had struck down a Connecticut law prohibiting the use of contraceptives.  The Court argued that the State of Connecticut had no business interfering with individuals' consensual choices in the bedroom.  The privacy right the Court found in the Constitution was a "liberty plus" (in our terminology).   The right certainly did not ground any claims that Connecticut assist people's contraceptive choices.  Thus, Roe v. Wade's extension of the right to privacy to the context of abortion seems to warrant the conclusion that the abortion right in question is a "liberty plus," grounding no claims to government support.   If so, then government failure to support abortions doesn't amount to a denial of the right.  The original argument seems not to work.

NOTE: Sensitivity to the grammar of rights can help us frame our disagreements more fruitfully.   However, the "grammar" of rights does not itself force us to any particular conclusion about government funding of abortions.  Settling matters of "grammar" won't settle substantive disagreements.

For example, a supporter of the original argument might try to hold onto the proposition that the right to privacy underwrites a Constitutional claim-right for aid in acquiring an abortion, responding this way:

true, the right to contraception announced in the Connecticut case is no more than a "liberty plus;" and, true, the language of Roe v. Wade suggests that the right to abortion is no more than an extension of the right to contraception.  However, this superficial reading of Roe v. Wade rests on an untenable separation between a right and its worth.  It supposes that the Constitution can confer basic rights that are of no value to us because we are unable to exercise them.  However, the point of securing certain basic rights in the Constitution was to make them universally available.  Consequently, Constitutional mandates go beyond setting out rights in form only; the mandates require public assistance in exercising basic rights so that they become rights in reality as well as form.  Thus, just as the Constitutional right to a trial by jury is read by the Supreme Court to require the government to supply lawyers to criminal defendants who cannot afford to retain their own, so the Constitutional right to abortion should be read by the Court to require the government to subsidize abortions for women who cannot afford them.

Here we have an argument that elaborates the original one.  In fact, in this case, being sensitive to the "grammar" of rights forces the supporter of the original argument explicitly to surface and articulate a crucial -- and controversial -- premise that remains suppressed in the original version, namely, that Constitutional rights must have a universal worth.

(iv)

Summary: the original argument went like this:

1' The Supreme Court has found in the Constitution a right to have an abortion .

2' The Government has a duty not to deny people their Constitutional rights.

3' In refusing to fund abortions for women who can't afford them, the Government denies these women their Constitutional rights.

4' Therefore, the Government has a duty to fund abortions for women who can afford them.

On its face, this argument looks valid.  The same key term (underlined) seems to appear in the right place in all three premises.  Now, substitute at each underlined place the precise meaning of "a right" appropriate at that place.  We then get this argument:

1* The Supreme Court has found in the Constitution a protected liberty to have an abortion.

2* The Government has a duty not to deny people their Constitutional liberties.

3* In refusing to fund abortions for women who can't afford them, the government denies these women their claim-rights to abortion.

4* Therefore, the Government has a duty to fund abortions for women who can't afford them.

This argument is invalid on its face. The key term referred to in premise 3* is not the same key term referred to in premise 1*.

However, this result doesn't mean the original argument has to be rejected in its entirety.   Rather, the result means that the original has to be rejected or revised in certain respects.  Consider this revision (already discussed above):

1^ The Supreme Court has found in the Constitution a right -- i.e., a protected liberty -- to have an abortion.

2^ The purpose of securing certain basic rights in the Constitution was and is to make them universally available.  Constitutional mandates go beyond setting out rights in form only; the mandates require public assistance in exercising basic rights so that they can become rights in reality as well as in form for everybody.  That is to say, the Constitution not only confers equal rights, but rights whose worth should be as equal as feasible.

3^ Because of the vital importance to women in being able to exercise the protected liberty to have an abortion, the Government should read the liberty as founding a claim to assistance in exercising it.  By failing to construe the liberty as founding such a claim, the Government would be failing to equalize the worth of the liberty, and thus failing fully to secure the liberty for everyone.

4^ The Government has a duty to secure Constitutional liberties for everyone.

5^ In refusing to fund abortions for women who can't afford them, the Government fails to secure to these women their Constitutionally protected liberties.

6^ Therefore, the Government has a duty to fund abortions for women who can't afford them.

This revised argument is not guilty of the simple invalidity of the original.  Now, however, we see that its conclusion rests upon an interesting but controversial premise, 2^.

IV. FUNCTION: THE USES OF MORAL VOCABULARY

Let us now turn to the second aspect of my characterization of morality: what we use a moral vocabulary to do.  I said that we use moral judgments to guide, criticize, reprove, blame, praise, justify, instruct, and the like.  We use moral judgments to guide ourselves and to guide others.

(i)

Let's start with self-guidance.  Suppose you observe a storekeeper deliberately cheating a foreign tourist who doesn't speak English by charging her more than the given price on an item or by misrepresenting what the item is.  You might think to yourself, "That's a low, shameful thing to do," and resolve never to do any such thing yourself.  In doing this, you make a conscious judgment that reinforces your general values or policies about right and wrong behavior.  You might also say to yourself: "I'm not going to have any further dealings with this store, or at least never any dealings that require me to rely on the word or honesty of the storekeeper."   Your judgment thus shapes a particular course of action in relation to another person.

(ii)

Guiding others: suppose you stop the tourist outside the store and, speaking her language, say to her: "That storekeeper cheated you."  You might say this to prompt the tourist to return and confront the storekeeper.  Or you might say it to warn the tourist away from shopping at this store again.  Or again, your aim may be to get the tourist to be more wary generally in her dealings with other people.

Suppose you say to the tourist: "That storekeeper cheated you. Shame on him."  The added tag, "shame on him," doesn't seem to add any further guidance to the description, "he cheated you."  Rather, it seems to function as an expression of solidarity with the tourist.  It signals you are on her side, you are sympathetic to her situation.

Suppose inside the store you confront the storekeeper yourself.  "Shame on you," you cry.  "You're cheating this poor woman!"  Your aim may be to shame or embarrass the storekeeper into rectifying his transaction with the tourist.  Or your aim may be to shame him into better behavior in the future -- hoping he will realize what a low thing he's doing even in his own estimation, so that he will resist future temptations to fleece other customers.  Or your aim may be to warn other customers within hearing to be wary in dealing with this storekeeper.

Now, in all these examples under (ii), you pronounce your moral judgment out loud; you make it public.  Unless uttered out loud, your judgment wouldn't serve its purpose.  For example, in the case of the storekeeper, your uttered-out-loud judgment was intended (a) to improve the storekeeper, or (b) to set an example for other hearers, or (c) to affect the behavior of the tourist and other customers, or (d) all of these.

(iii)

Now note some complications.  Guiding, instructing, criticizing, rebuking others -- these are all themselves actions, and as I pointed out in talking about morality as a vocabulary, any action can be subjected to moral description and evaluation.  So the exercise of moral judgment can itself fall under moral judgment.  This is especially the case with public voicing of moral judgment.

Public criticisms and rebukes have public effects -- so we have to reckon up the value of those effects. Suppose openly rebuking the storekeeper only makes him a worse person. Then we may not be justified in openly rebuking him. The truth of our judgment that he is behaving shamefully is not a sufficient ground for uttering it out loud.

Openly criticizing people can humiliate them in front of others, undercut their standing, cause them to lose face, and so on -- and in some instances the humiliation, diminished standing, loss of face, etc., may be out of proportion to the wrong being criticized. Justice might require, then, that we take aside the offending person quietly to offer criticism or, it that is not possible, forego criticism altogether.

Sometimes, it is not our place -- not our perogative -- to air criticism of another.  For example, it may not be our place to criticize the way a wife speaks to her husband, though we think that her manner is objectionable in some way.  It is the husband's business to object to the way his wife speaks to him, not ours.