1

PRELIMINARIES

1.1 What Normative Ethics Is

How should one live? There are few questions, I think, that are as gripping
and as inescapable as this one. Unlike many of the other classical questions
of philosophy, this question—the central question of moral philosophy—
seems pressing and important. It matters what answers we come up with,
for it matters what I do with my life. What I make of myself, how I live,
what I do, what kind of person I become—these things are of vital concern
to each of us, even if few of us normally reflect on them in a systematic or
critical fashion.
Moral philosophy attempts to answer the question of how one should
live. Because of the staggering difficulty and significance of the question,
any attempt to provide an answer can seem arrogant, pretentious, or em-
barrassing. Who could be so foolish, so naive, or so dogmatic, as to think
that they had themselves (finally!) arrived at the truth about how to live?
Indeed, many of us have learned to pretend—or have even fooled ourselves
into thinking that we believe—that there are no correct answers here, that
ethics is all simply a matter of opinion.
And yet, on reflection, most of us do in fact think that there are right and
wrong answers in ethics. Here is a simple example: it would be immoral to
set a child on fire for the mere pleasure of watching him burn. Is there any-
one who seriously doubts the truth of this claim?
Perhaps there is. (Human history has produced more than its share of de-
mented or wicked individuals.) If so, such a person need read no further in
this book. But for the rest of us—for those who think that there are indeed
certain moral claims that are correct and others that are wrong—the ques-
tion is not whether there are right answers in moral philosophy but only to
what extent we can arrive at them. How far can we go toward systematiz-
2 Preliminaries

ing our answers and defending them? To what extent do our moral views
need to be revised? Can our moral theories be generalized and extended so
as to provide answers where we do not already possess confident opinions?
Now in broad terms there are two possible ways to go about answering
questions like these (or perhaps there are two possible ways to understand
the questions). On the one hand, you might try to discuss in abstract terms
the very possibility of systematization in ethics, the nature of moral justifi-
cation, the various possible grounds for revising ethical claims, and so on.
On the other hand, you might try to do the actual work of systematizing,
revising, and extending our moral views. That is, rather than concentrating
on “second-order” questions concerning the nature and possibility of a
moral theory, you might instead concentrate on the “ground-level” project
of presenting and defending a moral view. In this book, we will be con-
cerned with moral theories of this second, substantive sort.
This same point can be made with the help of some contemporary jar-
gon. Moral philosophy as a whole can be usefully divided into three basic
areas: metaethics, normative ethics, and applied ethics. Normative ethics—
the topic of this book—involves substantive proposals concerning how to
act, how to live, or what kind of person to be. In particular, it attempts to
state and defend the most basic principles governing these matters. Con-
sider, for example, our earlier judgment that it would be immoral to set a
child on fire for the pleasure of watching him burn. Presumably the im-
morality of such an act can be explained in terms of something more basic
or fundamental—perhaps a moral prohibition against causing horrible pain
to the innocent. And perhaps that prohibition could itself be explained in
terms of something even more general, such as a right not to be harmed.
The point right now is not to decide whether or not these particular sugges-
tions are correct, but only to illustrate one way in which we can move to-
ward more and more fundamental moral claims.
Is there, then, a single ultimate moral principle from which all other
moral principles can be derived? The debate over whether there is, and if
50, what it might be, is the concern of normative ethics. And even if there is
no one single fundamental moral principle, we can still try to arrive at a
complete fist of the basic moral principles—or, at the very least, a list of
some of the most important ones. Normative ethics, then, is concerned
with stating and defending the most basic moral principles. (But this ralk
about “principles” should not be taken too literally. I don’t mean to be as-
suming without discussion that the most basic moral claims are best de-
scribed in terms of rules. It might be that we need to talk instead—or in ad-
dition—about the most basic rights, duties, virtues, or what have you.)
Since the most basic moral principles will probably be stated in rather
general terms, it will not always be apparent what to do in particular situa-
tions or in morally complex cases. This will be especially true if there are
several fundamental principles, since conceivably these might conflict (or
1.1 What Normative Fihics Is 3

appear to conflict) in some particular case. It may be a difficult matter to

decide how such a conflict is to be resolved or how a fundamental principle
is to be applied in some controversial area. Accordingly, the attempt to ap-
ply the general principles of normative ethics to particular difficult or com-
plex cases is itself an important part of moral philosophy. It is called ap-
plied ethics, and doing it well can be a quite challenging and subtle
undertaking. Not surprisingly, the moral judgments offered for particularly
difficult cases remain controversial. There are on-going philosophical de-
bates, for example, over issues like the morality of capital punishment,
abortion, and affirmative action. Indeed, in some cases entire specialized
subfields have developed, devoted to problems in medical ethics, business
ethics, and so on. I think in fact that the entire field of political philosophy
can legitimately be viewed in this way, as one (vitally important) branch of
applied ethics—one devoted to problems about the justification of the state,
the use of power, and the merits of alternative forms of government.
Think for a moment about what it would mean to have a theory con-
cerning, say, the morality of abortion. Among other things, such a theory
would presumably indicate the circumstances (if any) in which abortion
would be morally justified, and the circumstances (if any) in which it would
be morally unjustified. That is to say, the theory would itself have a certain
degree of generality, covering more than one specific type of case. Although
a theory of abortion would be less general and less fundamental than the
most basic principles of morality, a theory of abortion would still be more
fundamental and more general than any particular judgment that might be
derived from it concerning whether a particular mother in her particular
circumstances would be justified in having an abortion.
What this means is that the distinction between normative ethics and ap-
plied ethics does not rest upon any kind of sharp line. Really what we have
is something like a continuum: moral claims differ in their degree of gener-
ality; they can be ranked as more or less basic. Since most moral claims will
lie somewhere in the vast middle of this continuum, it will be somewhat ar-
bitrary or a matter of convenience whether we classify them as belonging to
normative ethics or to applied ethics. In the light of this, some moral
philosophers don’t draw any distinction between normative ethics and ap-
plied ethics at all. They just talk about there being various theories in nor-
mative ethics—and they note that some of these theories are more general,
and others are less so, some more basic, and others more derivative.
1 have no real disagreement with those who prefer to talk this way. My
purpose in introducing the notion of applied ethics was simply to bring out
this point that substantive moral claims can themselves be more or less fun-
damental. The theories to be discussed in this book lie pretty firmly on the
“more fundamental” side of the continuum. We will not be discussing top-
ics like capital punishment, or euthanasia (mercy killing), or affirmative ac-
tion, that lie much further down the “applied” side of the continuum. This
4 Preliminaries

is an important part of what I mean when I say that the topic of this book
is normative ethics.
The other main area of moral philosophy is metaethics. Metaethics is
concerned with answering second-order questions of the sort I indicated
earlier. Consider, for example, the claim that killing is always wrong. So
long as it is normative ethics that we are doing, what we are concerned
with is the substantive question of whether this claim is correct: is killing
always wrong, or must an exception be made for self-defense (or war, or
capital punishment)? And who, exactly, is it wrong to kill> Humans, ani-
mals, plants? Similarly, we want to know whether the wrongness of killing
is fundamental and ultimate—or can it be derived from some even more ba-
sic moral principle? These, as I say, are typical questions that can be raised
about the claim from the standpoint of normative ethics.
But there are other questions—very different types of questions—that
can be raised about this claim as well. For example, when someone claims
that killing is always wrong, what exactly does the word “wrong” mean?
Can we give an adequate definition of moral terms like “right,” “wrong,”
“good,” and “bad”? Similarly, the claim that killing is always wrong seems
to be ascribing a property to acts of killing. (Compare the claim that
“killing is always difficult,” which ascribes to acts of killing the property of
being difficult.) But what kind of property is “wrongness”? It doesn’t seem
to be a property of the sort that the five senses or the sciences can tell us
about. But, then, is it a natural property or an empirical property at all?
And if not, what other kind of property could it be? Furthermore, how can
we know whether killing actually has this strange property? Indeed, how
can we know anything about ethics at all? Are there really objective, moral
facts, waiting to be known? If so, what kinds of facts are moral facts? How
do they differ from ordinary, empirical facts? How do such moral facts fit
into a world of scientific facts? And if there aren’t really any moral facts,
then just what is going on when someone makes a moral claim like the
claim that killing is always wrong?
Obviously enough, questions of this sort are quite different from the sub-
stantive moral questions raised by normative ethics. Providing answers to
these questions would not directly involve taking a position on the substan-
tive content of morality—that is, which acts are required, which forbidden,
what kinds of people are good, what kinds of people are bad, and so on.
Rather, answering these questions would require taking a stand with regard
to the nature of morality. What is the function of moral discourse? What is
the place of values in the world of persons and things? What is the point of
morality? These second-order questions are the concern of metaethics.
Unlike the distinction between normative ethics and applied ethics—
where almost everyone agrees that there is no sharp line—many moral
philosophers have thought that there is indeed a sharp logical distinction to
be drawn between normative ethics and metaethics. Not only that, it has
1.1 What Normative Fihics Is

seemed to many as though whatever particular positions you happen to take

in one of these areas (say, metaethics) this will still leave you completely free
with regard to the positions you can take in the other area (that is, norma-
tive ethics). For example, it seems as though two people could agree com-
pletely concerning the nature of morality, the existence of moral truths, and
s0 on, while still disagreeing with each other as to whether or not killing is
always wrong. And similarly, two people might agree that killing is indeed
always wrong, while holding radically different views concerning the nature
of morality, the possibility of moral knowledge, and so forth. Accordingly,
some philosophers have held that when doing either metaethics or norma-
tive ethics (including applied ethics) one can completely disregard the other
area. (Indeed, having drawn a very sharp line between metaethics and nor-
mative ethics, some of these philosophers argued that the sole concern of
moral philosophers qua philosophers should be with metaethics. Normative
ethics was to be left to sermons and editorials; philosophers—it was
claimed—could make no distinctive contributions to it.)
1 think, however, that metaethics and normative ethics do not actually
have anything like this kind of independence from one another. Here is an
easy example. When doing normative ethics we try to defend and justify
substantive moral claims. But to do this, obviously enough, we have to
have views about what it is you need to do to provide a moral claim with a
good defense. That is, in doing normative ethics we will be presupposing
some kind of account—either a developed one or at least a working under-
standing of one—of justification in ethics. But the topic of justification in
ethics is itself one that actually belongs to metaethics. In short, doing nor-
mative ethics requires having views about metaethical issues. What’s more,
depending on the details of your views about what counts as a good justifi-
cation in ethics, it may well turn out that some substantive normative
claims are easier to defend than others. So normative ethics and metaethics
may not actually be independent of one another after all.
Of course, even if it is granted that in this and other ways your views in
metaethics can have an influence on your views in normative ethics, it
might still be true that there is indeed a sharp line to be drawn between
these two areas of moral philosophy. After all, metaethics is concerned with
the second-order questions about the nature and point of morality, while
normative ethics is concerned with ground-level questions about how one
ought to live. And it certainly seems as though there is a sharp distinction
between these two different kinds of questions.
In fact, however, I believe that here too (as with the distinction between
normative ethics and applied ethics) we are actually faced with a contin-
uum rather than a sharp line. For as we go deeper in our attempt to articu-
late the fundamental moral principles, relatively specific first-order claims
about the content of morality give way gradually to more general overall
characterizations of morality’s content; and as these in turn become more
6 Preliminaries

general still, we find ourselves making what increasingly come to seem like
second-order claims about the very nature of morality. This is especially so
when we attempt to provide a basis or foundation for the substantive moral
claims of normative ethics. Such foundational theories will inevitably grow
out of and appeal to larger metaethical conceptions of morality’s purpose
and point. That is, in the course of defending a given theory about the
foundations of normative ethics, when we try to explain why it is that the
various features of thar theory should seem attractive and plausible, in-
evitably the claims we make will themselves simply be metaethical claims
about the nature of morality. At a deep enough level, normative ethics does
not merely draw upon metacethics—it simply becomes metaethics. (This
point will, T hope, become clearer in the second half of the book, when we
actually begin considering rival theories about the foundations of norma-
tive ethics.)
So there is a continuum here too. As soon as you begin to try to defend a
normative claim within morality, you are inevitably making a “meta” claim
about morality. Thus, the shift from a perspective that is purely first-order
to a perspective that is at least partially second-order has begun. Theories
may differ in the degree to which this second-order perspective dominates,
but for the most part it is only a matter of degree.
Nonetheless, the fact remains that the focus of a discussion in moral phi-
losophy will be quite different if one concentrates on abstract second-order
questions about the nature of morality, rather than on the ground-level
project of stating in general terms the content of morality and providing a
basis for it. In this book, as 1 have said, the focus will be on attempts to
state and defend substantive moral claims. This is the other important part
of what I meant in saying that the topic of this book is normative ethics.
Let me hasten to add thar in saying that this book will be about norma-
tive ethics and not applied ethics or metaethics, I certainly do not mean to
be suggesting that these other areas of moral philosophy are not important.
They are indeed important; and they are difficult as well. And, of course, as
I have just been arguing, there aren’t actually any sharp lines separating
normative ethics from these other areas. But for all that, it seems possible
and worthwhile to focus on normative ethics—and that is my intent.
Actually, however, the focus will be somewhat more narrow than that. I
have suggested that the central question of moral philosophy as a whole,
and of normative ethics in particular, is how one should live. I take this
question to be sufficiently general that it is an open matter what an ade-
quate answer would concentrate on. Plausibly enough, one might think
that an adequate answer would primarily be concerned with issues about
what one should do and how one should act. But one might hold that an
adequate answer would concentrate instead on describing what kind of
person one should be, rather than what one should do. And there are other
possibilities as well. Ideally, no doubt, we would consider all the most im-
1.2 What Normative Fihics Is Not 7

portant theories for each type of approach—making no assumption at the

outset about which aspect is most central in answering how to live.
Of course, it is also plausible to think that a complete normative theory
will have something to say about each of these aspects—that is, about what
to do, what kind of person to be, and so on. Yet even if this is right, it
might be that in picking one of these aspects to concentrate upon, we run
the risk of failing to present some of these theories in the strongest possible
light. This is, however, a risk I am going to take. I am going to organize our
examination of the rival theories of normative ethics by focusing on the
question of how one should act. Which acts are morally better or worse
than others? Which acts are morally permissible, which ones morally re-
quired, and which ones morally forbidden—and what makes them so? Our
central concern in this book will be examining rival theories on this score.
Other aspects will come into view now and again, but they will not be cen-
ter stage. (I should note that this focus is quite typical for contemporary
normative ethics, although not universal.)
Focusing on the moral status of acts in this way also means that certain
topics in normative ethics will receive little or no discussion, and what dis-
cussion there is will be disjointed and scattered in different locations. For
example, I will have nothing at all to say about the topic of free will, and
precious little to say about a number of closely connected topics, such as
the nature of moral agency, and moral responsibility, as well as questions of
punishment, praise, and blame. Similarly I will have very little to say about
the nature of our moral obligations to animals, although this topic too de-
serves careful consideration.
I note all of this not so much by way of making an apology, but rather as
a warning. This book is not intended to be an exhaustive encyclopedia of
all the topics of normative ethics—not even all the most interesting ones. It
is meant only to be an introduction to some of the most important theories
and topics. And this last qualification—that the book is only an introduc-
tion—is meant quite seriously as well. There is much more that can be said
about every single topic that I will be discussing. My goal is not at all to
provide a full and complete examination of the various theories and argu-
ments that we will be considering. Rather, I simply want to give a sense of
what some of the main issues in normative ethics are. This involves point-
ing out what is attractive and what is problematic about the various views
to be discussed. But I never take myself to be offering definitive arguments
for or against a given view. There is always more that needs to be said than
what I will attempt to say here.

1.2 'What Normative Ethics Is Not

The rival normative theories we will be considering are theories about how
people ought to act, morally speaking. This point is worth emphasizing:
8 Preliminaries

they are theories about how people ought to act. This means, among other
things, that they are not claims about how people do act. After all, we all
know that people at least sometimes fail to do what they are morally re-
quired to do. Perhaps this happens only rarely; perhaps it happens far more
frequently than we normally think. Regardless, it is important to be clear
about this distinction between what ought to be and what is: a claim about
how people ought to act should not be mistaken for a description of how
people acrually do act. And this means that you cannot disprove a given
claim about how people should act merely by pointing out that they do not
actually act that way: perhaps they should, but simply fail to do what they
are morally required to do. This is not to say that descriptions of how peo-
ple actually acr are irrelevant to ethics. All sorts of empirical claims may be
relevant to defending ethical claims. But it is still important not to confuse
the two kinds of claims.
It is also important not to confuse the substantive moral claims of nor-
mative ethics with mere descriptions of the moral beliefs or ethical codes of
some group or society. It is one thing to tell us how a given society thinks
people should act. It is quite another thing to tell us whether this is indeed
the way that people really, genuinely should act. If what you are looking for
is a description of the moral code of some society or culture—that is, if
what you want is a careful description of what some group of people thinks
or has thought we should do—then you can and must turn to the writings
of sociology, or anthropology, or history. But if what you want to know is
the correct (or true, or most valid, or best) set of moral beliefs—that is, if
what you want is a careful account of what people really should do—then
this cannot be settled by an appeal to the social sciences. You must turn in-
stead to normative ethics. For it is normarive ethics that attempts to state
and defend the substantive moral claims. And defending a moral claim—
showing that it really does tell us the truth about how people ought to
act—is something quite different from merely reporting what this or that
group has thought about the matter.
I am certainly not suggesting that no group or society has ever managed
to arrive at correct moral views. Doubtless most groups are right about at
least some things morally, and perhaps there is some group (or individual)
that is right about everything morally (though I must say, I doubt it). But
the mere fact that a given group makes some moral claim does not—just by
that very fact alone—prove that the moral claim is correct. Indeed, this is
true for all subjects, and not just ethics: the mere fact that somebody says
something doesn’t prove that what they say is so. So if our concern is to
find out whar people really ought to do, then we must start evaluating the
various rival theories of normative ethics, considering the evidence and ar-
guments that can be offered for or against them. Ultimately, that is, what
we need to assess are the reasons that can be offered for accepting or reject-
ing a given moral claim.
1.2 What Normative Fihics Is Not 9

Of course, the study of the moral beliefs of different cultures can be help-
ful in a number of ways. It can open our eyes to the fact that different
groups have disagreed about moral questions—even on some of the matters
that seem most self-evident to us. If nothing else, this may deepen our de-
sire to discover to what extent our own moral views can be defended. And
it may leave us more open to the possibility of deciding that it is actually
some of our own moral views that are mistaken and in need of revision.
Furthermore, the study of the moral beliefs of other groups can help us dis-
cover arguments for or against some position—arguments that we might
otherwise have overlooked but that are worthy of careful consideration.
And, of course, the study of the moral beliefs of other groups can be inter-
esting in its own right.
All these same things are true with regard to studying the theories of the
great moral philosophers, living and dead. Learning about these philoso-
phers can be fascinating in its own right and can drive home to us the real-
ization that the problems of normative ethics, and of moral philosophy in
general, are deep and difficult, and even thoughtful and brilliant people can
disagree about the answers. And—not surprisingly—studying the writings
of moral philosophers is one of the best ways to discover rival moral theo-
ries, as well as some of the most interesting and compelling arguments for
and against these theories. (Although here, too, it should go without say-
ing, describing what a given philosopher believes about morality is quite
another matter from deciding what morality actually requires.)
Nonetheless, in this book, no attempt at all will be made to describe the
views of any particular philosopher or those of different societies. We will
be going directly to the rival theories of normative ethics themselves—the
rival claims about how people should act and the arguments for and
against these claims.
So the substantive moral claims of normative ethics should not be con-
fused with descriptive claims about what people actually do, or about what
various groups (or individuals) think people should do. But there is some-
thing else normative ethics should not be confused with: the law. Determin-
ing what people morally should do is not the same thing as determining
what the law says they should do. For the law may permit some particular
act, even though that act is immoral; and the law may forbid an act, even
though that act is morally permissible, or even morally required.
Here, too, easy examples can bring out the point. In the American South,
before the Civil War, slavery was legal. But despite the fact that slavery was
legally permitted, we would certainly want to insist that slavery was
morally forbidden: it was immoral to treat enslaved people as they were
treated—indeed, it was morally reprehensible—and the truth of this claim
is not altered by the fact that such treatment was permitted by the law. Sim-
ilarly, to take a more contemporary example, opponents of abortion think
that abortion is typically (or perhaps even always) morally forbidden—de-
10 Preliminaries

spite the fact that current law generally permits it. And if the law ever
changes, 5o as to prohibit most (or all) abortions, there will doubtless be
many other people who nonetheless will think that abortions are still typi-
cally (or perhaps even always) morally permissible—despite the fact that
the law forbids it. In short, what the law says is one thing; and what moral-
ity says may well be another.
Once again, this is obviously not to say that the law is typically immoral,
simply that morality and the law should not be confused. Nor does it deny
the possibility that if the law requires or forbids some act this may some-
times be relevant to whether or not the act is in fact morally required or
forbidden. Some think there is a moral duty to obey the law; others think
thar the fact that something is required by the law provides at least some
support for thinking that morally one ought to do it. Whether any such the-
ses about the law and morality are true is itself a question to be debated
within normative ethics (or perhaps applied ethics). But none of this alters
the point that the temptation to confuse morality and the law should be re-
sisted. (The temptation is sometimes made more inviting by a tendency to
speak of “the moral law”; but the moral law should not be confused with
the kind of law passed by governments.)
So claims about what people should do from the moral point of view
should not be mistaken with claims about what people should do from the
legal point of view. Nor, of course, should they be confused with claims
about what people should do from the aesthetic point of view, or the eco-
nomic point of view, or the patriotic point of view, and so on. Any of these
specialized standpoints may yield claims about how people “ought” to act,
and at least in some cases they may well be relevant to determining how
people really should act from the moral point of view. But it is the moral
point of view itself that is our concern in normative ethics, and none of
these other standpoints should be mistaken for it.
There remains one other point of view whose relationship to morality de-
serves special mention: rationality. We certainly often talk about what it
would be rational for people to do—whether a given act is rationally re-
quired, or whether it would be irrational (rationally forbidden) to perform
some act, and so on. Can this point of view, too, like the others, differ from
the moral point of view? Could it ever be rational to act immorally? Could
it ever be irrational to perform an act that is morally required? Or do ratio-
nality and morality necessarily coincide?
This is perhaps the deepest and most difficult question in all of moral phi-
losophy. But answering it requires, among other things, an adequate account
of rationality—and this is itself an obscure and contested topic in philosophy.
So I propose, for the most part, to simply put this question aside. Our con-
cern will be to articulate the demands of the moral point of view, and to see
to what extent rival claims within normative ethics can be defended. We will
be asking only how people ought to act, morally speaking; we will not here
1.3 Defending Normative Theories 11
pursue the crucially important—but nonetheless distinct—question of the de-
gree to which rationality endorses the demands of morality.
Restricting our project in this way does not, however, undermine its sig-
nificance. Most of us take ourselves to be quite prepared to act as we
morally should, if only we can determine just what it is that morality asks
of us. At the very least, we feel inclined to give considerable weight to
moral considerations. But most of us experience confusion and uncertainty,
at least upon occasion, concerning what morality really demands. It would
be no small accomplishment to arrive at an adequate understanding of
which acts are morally permitted, which forbidden, and which required.
The various rival theories concerning these matters constitute the field of
normative ethics—and it is this which shall be our concern in this book.

1.3 Defending Normative Theories

There is more than one theory about how we should act. (This is so even
when we restrict our attention to theories of normative ethics—theories
about how we should act from the standpoint of morality.) What’s more,
these different theories are genuine rivals; they are not merely alternative
ways of saying the very same thing. They disagree—not always, to be sure,
but sometimes—about precisely which acts are morally permitted, re-
quired, or forbidden. Since they disagree, they cannot all be right: we must
choose between them. But what is to guide our choice? On what grounds
are we to accept or reject a normative theory? How can a moral claim be
defended?
As we have already noted, this general topic belongs to metaethics, not
normative ethics. But as we also pointed out, it is very difficult to see how
you could even get started on normative ethics without at least a rough and
ready view concerning the nature of justification in ethics. Given the scope
of this book, to say a lot would be to say too much, but it does seem neces-
sary to say at least somerhing.
Consider how different defending an ethical theory will have to be from
defending a scientific one. In choosing between scientific theories, we can
appeal to empirical evidence. We can do experiments, testing predictions
against observation. But none of this scems available in ethics. Imagine try-
ing to do an experiment to test some fundamental moral claim, for exam-
ple, that killing is wrong. Suppose I grab someone off the street, stab him in
the chest, and watch him die. What am I looking for? What kind of obser-
vation will support (or undermine) the claim that killing is wrong? (Would
it help if I gathered other observers as well?) Experiments and empirical ev-
idence just don’t seem to be of any real help in proving things in ethics.
Now in fact this conclusion isn’t quite right. If I want to prove that your
giving your grandmother something to drink was an immoral act, it may
well be relevant to show that you gave her cyanide-laced tea, which in turn
12 Preliminaries

caused her death; and proving these things is indeed a matter of empirical
evidence. So we certainly shouldn’t say that empirical evidence is never rel-
evant to ethics. Indeed, it may be relevant a great deal of the time. After all,
consider how a prohibition against giving someone cyanide is to be de-
fended: it can be derived from our more familiar moral principles—but
only when we add the empirical observation that cyanide causes death. Per-
haps, then, in a similar fashion, but more generally, many of the less funda-
mental moral principles can themselves be derived from even more basic
moral principles—but again, only when the latter are combined with ap-
propriate empirical claims about the world. If this is so, then empirical
claims can play a significant role in justifying moral principles.
Whether this is really so or not, and to what extent, is something concern-
ing which different normative theories will disagree (as we shall see). But al-
most everyone agrees that this empirical approach to defending moral princi-
ples cannot extend to all of ethics. Sooner or later we seem to come to moral
principles that are not themselves based on or (even partly) derived from em-
pirical claims. So how are these “purely ethical” principles to be defended?
Some people conclude that if ethics cannot be based on empirical evi-
dence all the way down, the ultimate moral principles must be matters of
mere opinion, or personal taste. But this conclusion is too hasty as well. Af-
ter all, there are other areas of inquiry besides ethics where defending a
claim is not ultimately a matter of empirical evidence and experiments.
Consider mathematics or logic: defending the Pythagorean theorem, for ex-
ample, is hardly a matter of drawing triangles and then measuring the sides
to see if they add up properly. Yet no one is tempted to say that mathemat-
ics is all a matter of personal opinion or tastes.
T certainly do not mean to suggest that arguments in ethics look very
much like arguments in mathematics. (The nature of the similarities and
differences is too complex to explore here.) The point is just that there are
ways to defend a claim other than an appeal to empirical evidence. One can
still argue for or against a conclusion, and the various arguments can be
more or less compelling, to varying degrees. So when someone offers a
moral principle, we can still ask what reasons there are to accept it; and we
can also consider what reasons there may be to reject it instead. Then we
can go on to the delicate task of determining which side, on balance, has
the stronger case to be made for it, which side seems the most plausible in
the light of all the relevant arguments.
All this is well and good, but just what do arguments in ethics look like?
(That is, what do they look like in cases other than those where one princi-
ple is straightforwardly derived from another one thar is more basic?) What
sorts of reasons can we offer in defense of —or against—a theory in norma-
tive ethics?
One thing we can do is to point out the extent to which a given theory
fits—or fails to fit—our various moral intuitions. In particular, we often
1.3 Defending Normative Theories 13
have strong, immediate reactions to the description of real or imaginary ex-
amples. Even a schematic example, with only a few details filled in, can of-
ten be enough to evoke a sharp intuitive judgment that an act of the kind
described would be morally forbidden (or required, or optional). I made
use of this common phenomenon at the start of the chapter, when I put for-
ward the claim that it would be immoral to set a child on fire for the plea-
sure of watching the child burn. As soon as we think about the possibility
of someone doing this, we have the compelling intuition that such an act
would be morally forbidden. Such moral intuitions about hypothetical
cases are difficult to disregard. If some proposed moral theory gives what
intuitively strike us as the wrong answers about such hypothetical cases,
then we are inclined to take this as a significant (or perhaps even decisive)
argument against that theory. We expect an adequate moral theory to pro-
vide a good fit for our moral intuitions; so showing that a theory generates
and supports the intuitively correct answers can be an important aspect of
defending it.
Of course, finding a theory that fits well with our intuitions is often a dif-
ficult matter, particularly when it is the most basic principles of morality
that we are after and that we are trying to put together into a complete the-
ory. For the more general the theory, the more cases it will cover. And this
raises the very real possibility that no theory will provide a perfect fit for all
of our intuitions. In some cases, of course, this isn’t especially troubling.
On reflection, most of us are inclined to dismiss at least some of our intu-
itions as resulting from prejudice, bias, or failure to think clearly. And
sometimes our intuitions are weak, uncertain, or wavering; obviously, our
commitment to accommodating such intuitions isn’t very strong. But even
when it comes to stable and considered judgments about specific cases, we
may not be able to find a theory that can accommodate all of our intu-
itions. In order to find a theory that provides the best fit with our consid-
ered intuitions as a whole, we may have to accept a theory that nonetheless
clashes with some particular intuitions.
All of this makes the task of determining how well a given theory fits our
intuitions much less straightforward. There will often be the potential for a
good deal of debate over the relative importance of the various intuitive
and counterintuitive implications of the given theory. Showing that a pro-
posed normative theory fits our considered intuitions rather well overall
can therefore be a demanding and significant aspect of defending it.
Just how important this aspect is will depend, of course, on how much
confidence we have in the intuitions. But moral philosophers differ consid-
erably as to how much weight considered intuitions about specific cases
should be given. Some philosophers take the extreme position that certain
intuitions should be treated as givens—no theory that fails to accommodate
them can possibly be acceptable. Other philosophers take the equally ex-
treme position that such intuitions should be given no weight whatsoever—
14 Preliminaries

the mere fact that a theory has counterintuitive implications is no argument

against it at all. Most philosophers take a position somewhere between
these two extremes: the extent to which a theory coheres with our intu-
itions about cases is one relevant consideration in evaluating that theory;
but it may not be a decisive one.
Yet what else can there be besides the appeal to intuitions about cases? In
fact, rather a great deal. A moral principle may strike us as intuitively plau-
sible in its own right—above and beyond its implications for specific cases.
Or it may be derivable from a more general theory that itself strikes us as
attractive and plausible. So, in addition to intuitions about cases, we also
have to consider intuitions about principles and theories. If we're lucky,
these intuitions about principles will be in harmony with our intuitions
about cases; but if we are unlucky, there may be some tension here as
well—and then we will have to ask just which theory is it that provides the
best overall fit with our intuitions, taking both sorts of intuitions into ac-
count.
But there is more than this that needs to be considered as well. For it is
always worth asking whether a given theory has a plausible rationale. If a
theory prohibits a certain kind of act, what exactly is it abourt acts of that
sort that makes it appropriate to prohibit them? If a theory holds that a
particular factor has relevance in a certain range of cases, what exactly is it
about that factor that explains why it is relevant at all-—and what explains
why it is only relevant in the specified range of cases and not more gener-
ally? If a theory holds that morality has such and such a feature, can we ex-
plain why morality should have a feature like that? Does it make sense?
Imagine a slaveholder who feels, intuitively, that it is permissible to treat
blacks in ways that it would never be permissible to treat whites. Such a
person may well be able to find principles that fit his intuitions about cases;
presumably these will be principles that discriminate between people on the
basis of skin color. Now what should we say about this case? Obviously, it
is not that there is no difference between black and white—differences in
skin color are perfectly real differences. But what we still want to know—
and what the slaveholder should still ask himself—is why this difference
should make a difference. What could possibly explain why skin color
should have any moral relevance at all? Pressed to offer a plausible expla-
nation for his racist principle, the slaveholder may come to see that none
can be offered, and that the principle cannot be defended after all. (When
pressed, he might admit that differences in skin color are not themselves of
any direct moral relevance; but he might insist nonetheless that differences
in race are highly correlated with extreme differences in intelligence and in
character—that blacks are, for example, stupid and lazy. Conceivably, there
might be a plausible explanation of why these further features should mat-
ter morally. But now the slaveholder’s position can be defeated by showing
that his principle rests on empirical assumptions that are simply false.)
1.3 Defending Normative Theories 15
Someone who thought that intuitive fit was all that mattered in defend-
ing a moral principle might point out that the slaveholder’s racist principle
never matched our intuitions, and so the example may not show anything
more than that you shouldn’t consider a principle to be adequately de-
fended until it matches your own intuitions. But I think that the example
does show more than this. We were imagining that the racist principle did
fit the slaveholder’s intuitions about cases, and yet it secems to me that he
himself should be able to see that the principle has not been adequately jus-
tified if he cannot provide it with a plausible rationale. Similarly, even if we
shared the slaveholder’s racist intuitions, it would not be appropriate to
consider the intuitive fit an adequate defense of the principle, given that
there is no plausible explanation of why skin color should make a differ-
ence morally. Thus, providing a normative theory with a plausible rationale
is itself an important aspect of defending it.
Of course, there will be room for considerable disagreement over what
constitutes a plausible explanation for a moral principle or theory. Whether
a proposed explanation strikes us as plausible or implausible will depend
on our overall conception of the nature of morality. Ultimately (as I noted
in 1.1), we will have to evaluate possible explanations in the light of our
metaethical account of morality’s purpose and point. But none of this un-
dermines the basic point that an important component of evaluating a nor-
mative theory is seeing whether it can be provided with a plausible ratio-
nale; it only repeats the earlier observation that sooner or later normative
ethics turns into metaethics.
A friend of intuitions mighe still insist that even here all we are doing is
bringing in still more intuitions to be accommodated as best we can. If so, I
do not think that any serious disagreement still remains berween us. For
once “intuitions™ is being used this broadly, it is just another word for
opinions, judgments, and beliefs. The position we have arrived at is this: in
defending a moral theory, we must see how well that theory fits in with a
wide variety of judgments that we are inclined to make about many differ-
ent matters. We have opinions about cases, about principles, about the na-
ture of morality, about what counts as an adequate explanation, and more.
Some of these opinions are fairly specific, others are more general; some are
arrived at rather “intuitively” and spontaneously, others only after consid-
erable reflection; some are extremely difficult to give up, others are more
easily abandoned. We try to find the moral theory that provides the best
overall fit with this eclectic set of beliefs. But if —as seems overwhelmingly
likely—no theory can actually accommodate all of the relevant initial be-
liefs, we revise the set: we alter our beliefs, and reevaluate our theories, un-
til we arrive as best we can at a theory that seems on balance to be more
plausible than any of its rivals. Ultimately, then, defending a normative the-
ory is a matter of arguing that it provides the best overall fit with our vari-
ous considered judgments.
16 Preliminaries

If something like this picture is correct, then defending (or attacking) a

normative theory will virtually never be an open and shut matter. Almost
any normative theory is likely to have its counterintuitive aspects, and peo-
ple can sincerely disagree as to which theory is, on balance, the most attrac-
tive. That is why there are few or no “knockdown”™ arguments in ethics (or
anywhere, for that matter). All you can do is point out the attractive fea-
tures of your own favored theory, explain why you are prepared to live
with its various unattractive features, and try to show that the alternatives
are even worse.
What this means is that you will not be able to persuade everyone of the
truth of your position. So be it: you cannot persuade everyone. But that
does not relieve you of the obligation to try to defend your moral views,
and o revise them if you cannot. For each of us must decide how to live;
and given the importance of that decision, it behooves us to examine
whether our own moral views can indeed be defended.
Of course, the process of justification that I have been describing is a
complex and open-ended one. Few people will have the time (or the inclina-
tion) to go very far by way of examining alternative theories and assessing
the relative weights of their various attractive and unattractive features. In
any event, it should certainly be emphasized that even the arguments and
discussions that follow in this book are sketchy and incomplete. Indeed,
since overlooked but significant features of old theories might always be
brought to our attention, and new theories might always be put forward,
the process of evaluation and justification can perhaps never be completely
finished. It must always be tentative.
Nonetheless, however tentative our conclusions, it should be noted that
in principle the process of justifying your moral views could take you rather
far from where you started—this, despite the fact that “all” you are doing
is trying to find a theory that fits your various “intuitions.” For it is always
a possibility that getting to a theory that provides the best fit overall may
involve rejecting a large number of intuitions with which you began. Al-
though it need not be the case, it certainly could be the case that experience
and reflection will lead you to a moral theory rather unlike the one that you
initially found plausible.
It may be best to conclude this section by admitting that not everyone
would accept the account I have just been giving of what it is to defend an
ethical theory. The topic of justification in ethics is a controversial one, and
the approach I have been suggesting is by no means universally accepted.
Now in point of fact, I think that in practice everyone does accept an ap-
proach pretty much like this—whether or not they realize it. But the fact re-
mains that many do not realize it, and would reject my account. Still, to en-
ter into this debate more carefully would be to write a book on metaethics
or on justification in general, not normative ethics. So perhaps the matter is
best left here. (Since I believe that the same basic approach to justification is
1.4 Factors and Foundations 17

also used in other areas of philosophy—and indeed in all inquiry whatso-

ever!—a full defense of my view would certainly require a very different
sort of book.)

1.4 Tactors and Foundations

Whether a given action is required, permitted, or forbidden is typically a func-
tion of several different morally relevant factors. Much of the work of norma-
tive ethics is a matter of articulating these various normative factors, and dis-
covering how they interact so as to determine the moral status of an act.
An example should help to make this idea of a normative factor clearer.
Suppose that someone is drowning in the lake, and the only way she can be
saved is if I row out to her in a boat and pull her in. Should I do it? Presum-
ably, the fact that my act would have a good result—it would save a life!—is
one morally relevant factor in determining the rightness or wrongness of the
act. In particular, if the act is permitted—or perhaps even morally re-
quired—this is in large part due to the very fact that my act would help
bring about this good result, and there is no other way to achieve it. The
goodness or badness of results is thus a morally relevant normative factor—
a factor that can help determine the moral status of an act.
It certainly doesn’t seem to be the only such factor. Suppose that the only
boat at hand is not mine, but rather belongs to someone else. If I am to res-
cue the drowning woman, I must steal it (even though I plan to return it
later). Here we have a second relevant normative factor: the fact that per-
forming the act requires violating the property rights of the boat’s owner.
Whether I should still take the boat out or not depends on which of these
two factors is more important, morally speaking. If, as I suppose, I should
still take the boat, this is because saving a life outweighs property rights (at
least in this case). And if anyone takes the opposite position, and believes
that morally T shouldn’t take the boat, this is presumably because they
think that property rights here outweigh the chance to save a life. Whatever
your answer, it seems plausible to think that there are now two normative
factors that are at work in this case, and the moral status of the act depends
on which factor outweighs the other.
There are other factors that might come into play as well. If the woman
drowning is my wife, it might well be thought that I have a special obliga-
tion to try to rescue her—an obligation stronger than my general obligation
to try to save the lives of strangers—and this will then provide a third fac-
tor that contributes to determining what it is that I should do. On the other
hand, if I myself run a serious risk of drowning in the course of a rescue at-
tempt (even though what’s most likely is that we will both make it safely
back to the shore), this may well provide a fourth relevant factor: perhaps,
because of the potential risk to me, undertaking a rescue remains optional,
rather than being morally required.
18 Preliminaries

Obviously, this list of potentially relevant normative factors is far from

complete. The four we have mentioned—the chance to save lives, violation
of property rights, special obligations to one’s wife, potential cost to the in-
dividual agent—are only offered as examples. But even this limited sample
should be sufficient to help fix the basic idea of a morally relevant factor;
and the example of the drowning woman (in its different versions) nicely i
lustrates the way in which the various relevant normative factors together
determine the moral status of a given act.
Now some of the phrases that I have just been using are somewhat am-
biguous. If I say of a given factor, for example, that it can “help determine
the moral status of an act,” then what I am saying can potentially be under-
stood in two different ways: I might be making a claim about how we can
figure out what the moral status of a given act is. Or I might be making a
claim about what makes the given act have the particular moral status that
it does. So let me state explicitly that when I use phrases like this, it is the
latter (metaphysical, or ontological) claim that I have in mind, rather than
the former (epistemological) one. That is, as we try to produce an adequate
theory of the normative factors, what we are after is an account of what it
is that actually makes it be the case that different acts have the status that
they do. In the original version of the example of the drowning woman, if
rowing out is indeed morally required, then it is the very fact that there is a
life that can thus be saved that explains why this is so. It is not merely that
thinking about the fact that a life can be saved is a pretty useful thing to do
when trying to decide whether rowing out is really required or not. No, the
fact that a life can be saved is what makes it be the case that the act in ques-
tion is required. The same thing is true for other, and more complex, cases.
1f several different normative factors come into play—as in the final version
of the example of the drowning woman—then it is the interaction of these
very factors that grounds the ultimate moral status of the act; it is the rele-
vant normative factors themselves that together make it be the case that the
act has the particular overall moral status that it does.
However, I do not mean by any of this to deny the fact that knowledge of
the normative factors can be an invaluable guide in trying to figure out
what it is that we should do. After all, if the normative factors are what
make it be the case that any given act has the particular moral status that it
does, then someone with an adequate understanding of the normative fac-
tors and how they interact would be in a good position to decide just what
the moral status of a given act really comes to (assuming, of course, that
this person also knew all the relevant details about the particular act in
question). Nor do I take this to be merely a hypothetical, ideal possibility—
one available in principle, but never actually put into practice. For I take it
that often enough people do in fact try to figure out how they should act by
trying to identify the various normative factors that are relevant in the
given case. Similarly, when we think about various examples—whether real
1.4 Factors and Foundations 19

or imaginary—we often assess the moral status of the relevant act by iden-
tifying the relevant factors and thinking about how these factors would in-
teract. Tn short, since the factors determine (metaphysically speaking) the
moral status of the act, thinking about the factors can help us determine
(epistemologically speaking) the status of the act as well.
Of course, I would not want to overstate the role that thinking about the
normative factors has or should have in our moral decision making. Often
enough, no doubt, one simply inspects the situation—and acts. Little or no
moral reflection may take place; involved appeals to moral theory may be
inappropriate or impossible. Sometimes one simply has to make a judgment
and act on it. In fact, this may be the most common case. As long as we are
talking about individuals with a proper moral education and a good char-
acter, this may well be enough. (And if we are not talking about people
with a good moral character, then throwing in a heavy dollop of moral the-
ory is hardly likely to improve their choices!)
Despite this point, however, there still seems to me an important place in
moral deliberation for an adequate theory of the normative factors. For we
do in fact often appeal to the presence or absence of various factors in de-
ciding how we should act. This is especially so in complex or controversial
cases, where our spontaneous judgments and intuitions may leave us uncer-
tain and confused—or in sharp disagreement with the opinions of others.
One way we often try to make progress in such cases is by systematically
considering the various factors that are at play. (It is with just such difficult
cases that applied ethics is especially concerned, and so arguments in this
area typically take the form of a careful investigation of the normative fac-
tors that are at work in the given case.) Obviously enough, to the extent
that we do find ourselves making use of a theory of normative factors, it is
important that that theory be a correct one.
But whatever practical implications a theory of the normative factors
may have for guiding our moral deliberations, there still remains the intrin-
sic theoretical interest we have in possessing an adequate account. To the
extent that we find ourselves intrigued by the question of how we should
act, we will want to know not only what the correct answer is, in any given
case, but why it is the correct answer. It is just this knowledge that an ade-
quate theory of the normative factors would provide. To sum up: insofar as
normative ethics is concerned with describing the fundamental principles
that determine how we should act, much of what we need is to be found in
a theory of the normative factors.
A good deal of what we want to accomplish in normative ethics, then,
involves arriving at an adequate account of the factors. Unfortunately,
having argued this, I must now confess that it would be far beyond the
scope of this book to try to offer anything like a complete account. At
best, T can only hope to provide a reasonable description of at least some
of the most important normative factors. This will be our concern in Part
20 Preliminaries

One. As we will see, however, providing even this much is not at all a triv-
ial task.
First of all, a large number of purported factors have been proposed at
one time or another, and people disagree as to which of these really count—
that is, which of them genuinely belong on an accurate list of the poten-
tially relevant normative factors. Second, even when there is some agree-
ment that a particular factor belongs on the list, it is often a difficult and
controversial matter to try to specify the precise content and contours of
that factor. For example, suppose that we tentatively agree that one morally
relevant factor is whether or not a given act will help bring about good re-
sults; we will still need to spell out exactly what it is that makes one out-
come better or worse than another, and this topic is itself both complex and
controversial. Finally, there remains the task of articulating how the vari-
ous factors interact. When more than one factor comes into play, how do
the different factors combine so as to determine the ultimate (overall)
moral status of the act? And when different factors conflict, which ones
outweigh the others? (The answer presumably doesn’t have to be the same
in every case: it may depend on the details.) The fact is, the discussion of
even one normative factor can quickly become astonishingly complex. So
our own discussion of the various normative factors will often do little
more than scratch the surface. I hope to say enough, however, to give a
sense of what I take to be the most difficult and interesting questions sur-
rounding each of the basic types of factor.
Although a major component of normative ethics is concerned with de-
scribing the normative factors—what they are and how they interact—this
does not at all exhaust the field. For we want to know not only which fac-
tors genuinely have moral relevance—but what it is that makes these the
relevant factors in the first place. It is important to be clear about the na-
ture of this new question. 1 am not here asking what makes a given factor
relevant in some particular case: obviously, this is a matter of the details of
the specific case. Rather, T am asking what is it that explains why a given
factor ever makes a difference to the moral status of any act at all. To put
the point another way, only certain of the many factors that have been dis-
cussed at one time or another have any genuine moral relevance. Even if we
are confident what the relevant factors are, we still need to know what ex-
plains their relevance. Just what is it that explains why the genuinely rele-
vant normative factors have the relevance that they do? What is the basis of
their moral significance?
To answer this question is to offer a theory about the foundations of nor-
mative ethics. It is to offer an account of what grounds the normative fac-
tors. Obviously, it would be helpful at this point if I could now go on to
quickly mention some familiar examples of foundational theories—to fix
the idea and to make the contrast with normative factors intuitively clearer.
Unfortunately, the most important foundational views are less familiar than
1.4 Factors and Foundations 21

the normative factors themselves, and they are sufficiently complex that 1
cannot easily offer examples here. So for the time being, we will have to
make do with the mere idea of a foundational theory—a theory that at-
tempts to explain the basis of the truly relevant normative factors. Not sur-
prisingly, there are rival theories in this area as well, and they will be our
concern in Part Two.
What may be somewhat surprising, however, is the extent to which these
two areas of normative ethics—factors and foundations—can be discussed
independently of one another. That is, it seems as though much of the dis-
cussion of the normative factors can take place without relying on any par-
ticular view about the foundations (a belief that is reflected in the structure
of this book: the detailed examination of the normative factors takes place
in Part One, while the various foundational theories are not even intro-
duced until Part Two). Similarly, although perhaps to a lesser extent, foun-
dational theories can be evaluated without relying on any particular view
about the normative factors. So even though eventually we want to connect
our views about the normative factors with our views about the founda-
tions, it seems as though we can make at least some headway with each of
these independently of the other. This is, at any rate, the practice in a good
deal of contemporary moral philosophy: investigation at the level of the
normative factors is typically done without making explicit theoretical
commitments at the foundational level; and rival foundational theories are
often assessed independently of their implications for the factoral level.
On the other hand, I certainly do not mean to be suggesting that investi-
gations concerning either one of these levels (factoral or foundational) can
or should be brought to a conclusion without any regard at all for our
views about the other level. For our views about factors and foundations
must cohere, and there is no particular reason to think that any given foun-
dational theory will be compatible with any given theory about the factors.
Foundational theories are not neutral with regard to what emerges at the
factoral level; on the contrary, it seems quite likely that, once sufficiently
specified, any particular foundational theory will support rather spec
conclusions concerning the normative factors. To put the same point the
other way around, any given account of the normative factors will be com-
patible with only some but not all theories concerning the foundations. At
the very least, therefore, we must make sure that our views concerning the
two levels can be coherently combined. But beyond this, we can also use
our theories about a given level to help us refine or revise our views about
the other level.
Ideally, after all, appeal to the correct foundational theory would help re-
solve any unsettled disputes we might have about the normative factors. It
would enable us to see just which factors genuinely have direct moral sig-
nificance, and it would answer questions about the precise nature of these
factors, their relative weights, and how they interact. Indeed, since it is the
22 Preliminaries

correct foundational theory—whatever that turns out to be—that provides

the basis for and explains the various normative factors, it should not sur-
prise us if these various disputes about the normative factors could not be
completely resolved in the absence of an adequate foundational theory.
Similarly, one significant consideration in guiding our choice between ri-
val foundational theories will be the extent to which a given theory gener-
ates and supports our favored account of the normative factors. Although
foundational theories can be assessed “in their own right” in terms of the
relative plausibility of the various rationales with which they can be pro-
vided, it is certainly the case that many people will want to reject any foun-
dational theory that fails to generate what they take to be a plausible ac-
count at the factoral level. And for any given basic approach to the
foundations, we can revise and fine-tune the details of the theory with an
eye to their implications at the factoral level. In principle, then, appeal to
the correct account of the normative factors—and the need to find a foun-
dational theory that will support that account—can help resolve unsettled
disputes about the nature of the foundations.
Sooner or later, therefore, we will want to bring our views about the fac-
tors and our views about the foundations into contact with each other. But
that does not mean that we have to develop our views about both levels si-
multaneously. As I have already suggested, to a surprising extent the two
areas can be investigated independently of one another. (Perhaps this
should not surprise us after all, since theorizing about the normative factors
typically draws rather heavily upon intuitions about cases, while theorizing
about the foundations draws more heavily upon metaethical intuitions
about the nature of morality.) Ultimately, a complete theory of normative
ethics will need to have a plausible account of both the factors and the
foundations, and how the two are combined. But we can begin our investi-
gation by focusing initially on the factors alone. Investigation of the foun-
dations can follow later.