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Creating a Shared Morality

Studies in Moral Philosophy Series Editor Thom Brooks (Durham University) Editorial Board Chrisoula Andreou (University of Utah) Mark Bevir (University of California, Berkeley) Clare Chambers (University of Cambridge) Fabian Freyenhagen (University of Essex) Tim Mulgan (University of St Andrews) Ian Shapiro (Yale University)

VOLUME 15

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/simp

F rontispiece by Heather Salazar, Weaving Their Own Fates. Chalk on Paper, 11x14 inches Frontispiece edited by Kinga Martin

Creating a Shared Morality The Feasibility of Ethical Constructivism By

Heather Salazar

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Salazar, Heather, author. Title: Creating a shared morality : the feasibility of ethical  constructivism / by Heather Salazar. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2022. | Series: Studies in moral  philosophy, 2211-2014 ; volume 15 | Includes bibliographical references  and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021034004 (print) | LCCN 2021034005 (ebook) |  ISBN 9789004471061 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004471078 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Ethics. | Constructivism (Philosophy) Classification: LCC BJ37 .S235 2022 (print) | LCC BJ37 (ebook) |  DDC 170—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021034004 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021034005

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 2211-2014 ISBN 978-90-04-47106-1 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-47107-8 (e-book) Copyright 2022 by Heather Salazar. Published by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau Verlag and V&R Unipress. Koninklijke Brill NV reserves the right to protect this publication against unauthorized use. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Acknowledgements xi Introduction 1

part 1 Arguments for Ethical Constructivism 1 Ethical Constructivism and Its Origins 11 1 Supernaturalist and Realist Externalism 11 2 Subjectivist and Contractarian Internalism 13 3 Kantian Transcendentalism and Procedural Morality 17 4 Korsgaard’s Neo-Kantian Thoroughgoing Constructivism 20 5 Saving Constructivism from Inadequacies: Enlightenism 23 2 Public Reasons as the Basis of Objective Morality 25 1 Procedural Publicity 25 2 Reasons as the Basis for Morality 27 3 Korsgaard’s Argument for the Constructive Publicity of Reasons 28 4 Two Strategies: Inductive and Deductive 33 3 Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument: The Inductive Strategy 34 1 The Shareablity of Meanings and Reasons 35 2 Two Interpretations of Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument 37 3 Reasons to Reject the Inductive Strategy 39 4 Important Differences between the Meanings and Reasons 40 4 Communicative Understanding: The Deductive Strategy 43 1 The Argument that Language Forces People to Share Reasons 43 2 The Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness 46 3 Obligating People to Take on Others’ Communicated Reasons 53 4 The Distinction between Felt Obligation and Actual Obligation 55 5 The Significance of Understanding versus Endorsing Reasons 58

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part 2 Enlightenism: A New Theory that Answers the Hard Questions 5 Three Theses: Constructivism, Publicity, and Universality 65 1 The Source and Nature of Reasons 66 2 Theoretical Possibilities 70 3 Public/Objective Reasons in Realism and UT 73 4 Private/Subjective Reasons and UT 77 5 Weak Realism and Mixed Theories 79 6 Constructed Reasons and UT 80 6 The Universality of Reasons in Constructivism 81 1 Simple Requests 82 2 Theoretical Reasons for Universality 84 3 Conflicting Reasons 88 4 A New Theory That Answers the Hard Questions 92 7 Creating Legitimate Reasons and the Enlightenist Account 94 1 Conferring Value in Constructivist Ethics 95 2 Thoroughgoing Constructivism’s Lapse into Subjectivism 97 3 Enlightenism: Ideal Reflection on Relevant Identities 103 4 Ideal Reflection and the Moral Identity 110 5 Counterfactual Reasons 112 8 Private Reasons and Reasons of Autonomy 115 1 Reasons of Autonomy 116 2 Korsgaard’s Theory and Its Incompatibility with Private Reasons 118 3 Reasons of Autonomy: The Natural Reading 119 4 Reasons of Autonomy as Public: Korsgaard’s Alternative 121 5 Objections to Korsgaard’s Interpretation of Reasons of Autonomy 126 6 Competitive Ambitions 128

Contents

part 3 Resolving Conflicts between Reasons 9 The Relative Strength of Reasons 133 1 Intuitive Differences in the Depth of Reasons 134 2 A Realist View 136 3 Two Constructivist Views 138 10 Criterions for Distinguishing Deeper Reasons 142 1 Defining Depth in Reasons 143 2 The Group Size Account 145 3 The Efficacy Account 146 4 Centrality to Identity: The Entrenchment Account 147 5 Centrality to Identity: The Concern Account 151 6 The Practical Impact of Depth 152 7 Unintuitive Consequences versus the Importance of Autonomy 157 11 Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism 163 1 The Nature of Morality in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism 164 2 We All Have Reasons to be Moral and Enlightened 167 3 Understanding That: Interbeing in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism 170 4 Two Truths in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism 171 12 Interdependence and Self-Interest in Ethical Constructivism 175 1 The Interdependency of Relative and Absolute Truths in Buddhism 175 2 Compassionate Action and Co-responsibility in Buddhism 178 3 Interdependence in Ethical Constructivism 180 4 Selfishness and Altruism in Constructivism 183 5 Animal Psychology, Peace, and Ethics 186 Conclusion 188 Bibliography 191 Index 194

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Acknowledgements This book is nearly twenty years in the making. As such, there are countless conversations with my teachers, friends, students, and peers that have contributed to my understanding and interpretation of constructivism and Eastern philosophy. I thank Matthew Hanser for introducing me to Christine Korsgaard’s work. At the time, I was studying philosophy of language and mind in graduate school, just four years after Korsgaard published The Sources of Normativity. My research track radically changed to metaethics as soon as I read “The Reasons We Can Share.” I quickly took up analysis of Korsgaard’s work that semester. I have enormous respect for Christine Korsgaard, whose creative take on metaethics and new theory of constructivism inspired me to understand the world in an integrated way. Formerly, philosophy to me was a set of puzzles to solve. Afterwards, constructivism was a captivating koan of its own, which, if soluble, showed me a glimpse of a synoptic view from which the parts were only complete within the whole. Likewise, I am in debt to my other teachers, all of whom made significant contributions to my understanding of the specific issues in this book: Nathan Salmon, Kevin Falvey, Christopher McMahon, and Hilary Putnam. I owe Holly Bodine, whose careful editing aided me enormously. I am also very thankful to Brill, who, after publishing my first edited volume, Philosophy of Spirituality, extended a contract to me for this book. Specifically, I am grateful to Bram Oudenampsen, who took on my constructivist project with gusto, Thom Brooks, who enthusiastically ensured that my manuscript had a place in his series, and Emma de Looij, who supervised the final stages of the completion and publication of this book. I had particularly helpful conversations with several peers on numerous occasions: Gregory Morgan, Adam Powell, Jennifer Scott, and Jason Newman. I am grateful for the teachings of Khenpo Tsewang Rinpoche, Marie Friquegnon, Kenneth Faber, and those at the Padmasambhava Buddhist Center who all kindly answered my inquiries and steered me in the right direction with regard to Buddhism. Matthew Dasti helped me to find valuable sources in Indian philosophy, particularly within the scholarly discussions of the Yoga School. Dean Saeed Ghahramani has been an indispensable support to me at my university. Thank you. Finally, without the support of my family and friends, this work would have been impossible. Everything is connected, and to you I am intimately intertwined. Immense gratitude to Noah Steinberg, my husband, Sonia and Summer Salazar, my mom and sister, and Jennifer Scott, Holly Bodine, and Adam Powell, my lifelong friends. And to my yoga community at Sweet Flow Yoga and my students from Spring Hill College and Western New England University. I continue to gain inspiration from you every time I teach.

Introduction This book is devoted to discussing the potential of neo-Kantian ethical constructivism. It in, I trace the history of constructivism and explain its appeal as a compromise between the two primary theories of metaethics: subjectivism and realism. I analyze the most developed and prominent version of the theory, ‘Publicity as Shareability,’ advocated by Christine Korsgaard, and explore the strengths and weaknesses of her arguments, the theory, and its implications. I then develop my own version of neo-Kantian constructivism which rejects several significant components within Korsgaard’s account. Enlightenism is the result. Enlightenism resolves difficulties within constructivism and builds bridges between the two traditional Western views of metaethics. It also employs concepts and insights from Eastern philosophy (specifically Buddhism) to show how constructivism can effectively resolve its apparent inconstancies. I argue that selfish people, though not necessarily immoral or irrational, would be more whole and enlightened if they understood themselves as interdependent with others in the world. Constructivist enlightenment, which is the result of a thorough understanding and dedication to the discovery of oneself and one’s innate interdependence on others, implies that morality is not a set of principles imposed from outside of oneself, nor does it require people to relinquish their freedom and diversity. Enlightenism emerges as an East-West constructivist theory with a robust sense of moral obligation that emanates from the reflective knowledge of the self. This book is therefore a defense and development of the best parts of neo-Kantian metaethical constructivism combined with Eastern Indian insights. Neo-Kantian ethical constructivism has roots in Immanuel Kant’s Formula of Autonomy (also called ‘the Kingdom of Ends’). Constructivism was developed in its normative ethical applications by John Rawls and in its metaethical version by Christine Korsgaard. In brief, ethical constructivism argues that reasons and obligations are constructed from the internal mental processes of concrete individuals in the real world. Following certain rational processes in constructing moral principles makes them objective (instead of subjective, like other mind-dependent theories of the source and nature of morality). Whereas normative constructivism focuses on the specific moral principles that people use to govern their lives (for example, that one should act with respect towards others and oneself), metaethical constructivism focuses on the origin and nature of those principles. Metaethical constructivism argues that the reasons and obligations that people have are based on the psychology of individuals. They are created rather than discovered. Their existence

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Introduction

is entirely dependent on the particular mental states of people and the principles would be different if people were different. Moral philosophy has traditionally been divided fairly neatly between two views about the nature and basis of our value judgements. Realism claims that values are rooted in facts about the way that the world really is, and that we are obligated to conform to these facts, but it has a difficult time making sense of where these facts are located and how they exercise a hold on us. Subjectivism, on the other hand, answers these concerns by claiming that values arise from the minds of individuals and thereby automatically provide motivational force for those individuals. But as these values are mind-dependent and limited to the individuals who possess them, subjectivism fails to make sense of our intuitions that some things really are good apart from people’s mental states and their motivations. This seeming dichotomy between realism and subjectivism has dominated moral philosophy until the end of this past century. Both of these theories have come up short in explaining our moral intuitions and in offering us a theory that is explanatorily adequate, yet plausible and applicable to our lives. Thus, they each fail to compel our reasonable acceptance of them. Neo-Kantian constructivism, which develops Kantian theories in an attempt to create a compromise view between realism and subjectivism, acknowledges that our values must conform to common sense rationality and pertain to all people, and at the same time recognizes that morality needs to be explained as emerging from the mental lives of individuals, since that is the only explanatory basis that we have. Constructivist theories are a very recent development, emerging only within the past half century; the most thoroughly constructivist views that lack realist value constraints altogether have been present for only about thirty-five years. At the forefront of this movement is Christine Korsgaard, who has arisen as the primary contributor and defender of neo-Kantian constructivism. She laid much of the groundwork for this position and devised specific theories and arguments to contribute towards a concrete understanding of what such a view would entail. Unlike either traditional theory of metaethics, it emphasizes the autonomy of individuals. The importance of autonomy is a central feature of constructivism’s Kantian heritage. Constructivism has very slowly been gaining traction because many philosophers have argued that Korsgaard’s view is mistaken. This work aims to provide a way of developing constructivism that is markedly different from Korsgaard’s, and thereby show that the view does not depend on or imply some of Korsgaard’s controversial claims. In other ways, it shows how constructivism can branch out into Eastern philosophy and hence illustrates its wide range of possibilities. When more philosophers espouse versions of constructivism it will likely gain a place of particular importance among metaethical theories.

Introduction

3

Neo-Kantian ethical constructivism is distinguished from other kinds of moral constructivism within the Humean tradition (better called ‘constructionism’). It claims that all moral values originate within the autonomous individual, yet the moral principles forthcoming are genuine objective rules that can and should determine moral reasons and obligations. The reasons generated under Korsgaard’s account govern not only the individual in whom the value originates, but all of humanity (as every person is connected in the shared space we occupy and interact in within the world.) Our ‘Kingdom of Ends’ is the entirety of humanity. Failing to recognize the reasons and obligations stemming from other minds in the world is tantamount to rejecting our own significance. For how can we recognize our own humanity and its value for us if we do not recognize the value of others? Creating a Shared Morality examines and assesses thoroughgoing ethical constructivism (which claims that all normativity arises from the mental states of individuals). In it, I depict a journey with ethical constructivism (which I also refer to simply as ‘constructivism’), wherein I explain its appeal, its problems, and its promise. I argue against the most prominent version of constructivism (articulated by Christine Korsgaard) and unwind entangled theses that create difficulty for the theory. I create a version of constructivism that (paradoxically for Korsgaard) embraces the constructive publicity of reasons for moral reasons and rejects a strong interpretation of universality. In other words, on my view all reasons and obligations are created and shareable, but not all reasons are shared (even when communicated effectively). Some moral principles may be universal to humankind, others may be shared by smaller-than humanity communities or depend upon a singular person’s goals. This book takes place in three parts. Each part builds on the next, and can also be read separately. The first part analyzes particular arguments for constructivism, and focuses on Christine Korsgaard’s work. The second part explores and compares different theoretical positions that emerge from some of the commitments within realism, subjectivism, and constructivism. It also introduces and develops my original theory, Enlightenism, and argues for it. It defends the admittance of both public and private reasons, instead of only public reasons (as Korsgaard argues is central to constructivism). I differentiate my theory and Korsgaard’s along these lines: Views that can admit private reasons are versions of what I call ‘weak constructivism,’ and views that cannot admit private reasons are versions of ‘strong constructivism.’ The third part examines and resolves the challenging issues that emerge within constructivism. It develops several criterions for how agents should prioritize certain reasons over others when reasons inevitably conflict. It also resolves concerns that Enlightenism supports and sustains people’s selfishness. To do

4

Introduction

so, I explain how the nature of the self (and therefore ‘selfishness’) necessarily includes others; I utilize concepts within Buddhism, such as interdependence and co-responsibility, to argue this. Enlightenism is a comprehensive East-West metaethical theory that argues: 1. The source of reasons is within oneself, 2. The nature of reasons allows for diversity, and 3. The deepest understanding of the self implies natural and powerful commitments to others. I give additional detail about each of these three parts below. Those less interested in the particular arguments which form precursors to my view may decide to skip Part 1, though Part 1 is rich with historical and technical detail that aids in an understanding of the significance of the view I articulate and develop. It could be read after Parts 2 and 3, as well. Part 1 explains the history of constructivism and carefully examines and evaluates the best arguments for it, concentrating on the work of Christine Korsgaard (who is undoubtedly the most significant developer of metaethical constructivism). Her arguments are exciting, but careful analysis of them reveals inconsistencies and imprecisions that render her theory largely untenable. I explore Korsgaard’s arguments for constructivism and develop her arguments in various ways. Because Korsgaard articulates a new view in ethics and her arguments are sometimes challenging to understand, of necessity much of what I say will involve conjectures and interpretations of what she says. People may disagree with me on some parts of my exegesis, but I hope to avoid controversies surrounding the ‘correct’ interpretation of her views by exploring as many interpretations of her arguments as possible. I also canvass alternative arguments and views that are plausible developments of hers. Thus, I hope to cover as many variations of her arguments and theory as possible in an effort to understand and analyze the constructivist territory where it stands at present. I specifically consider two different argumentative strategies that Korsgaard uses (or can use) to argue for constructivism. Both strategies conclude that reasons and obligations are public and shareable, not private and individual. The public nature of moral principles separates constructivism from subjectivism and shows that morality is objective in nature. Both strategies also require that the publicity of reasons and obligations be interpreted in a constructivist (instead of a realist) way. Thus, moral principles are not discovered, but created; the source of reasons is us, and is not in facts about the world independent of human psychology. The first strategy I call ‘the Inductive Strategy.’ It analogizes between meanings and reasons, claiming that the constructive publicity of meanings gives us a justification for claiming that reasons are constructively public, as well. The second I call ‘the Deductive Strategy.’ This argument also relies on the publicity of meanings within our conscious experience (which

Introduction

5

Korsgaard calls ‘linguistic consciousness’). It argues that reasons share a space in linguistic consciousness and that since linguistic consciousness is public, so too must reasons be public. This argument, and specifically the claims involving the publicity of linguistic consciousness, I analyze as making use of a premise that I call ‘the Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning,’ or FNPM, which states that I am forced or obligated to share your meanings and there need be no intention of my own upon which the obligation depends. I develop and analyze both the Inductive and Deductive Strategies and the arguments and premises that are involved in Part 1. I argue against these strategies in several ways. I claim that they are invalid and contain several false or dubious premises. I conclude that the arguments that can be made on behalf of the constructive publicity of reasons involving the constructive publicity of meanings are flawed and that they are unable to support the view. However, the consistency and plausibility of any view is independent from any particular argument for it. Furthermore, her arguments are offered on behalf of a new view; as such, they are not indicative of the integrity of the view itself (which is usually generated through the efforts of many philosophers over a period of time). I analyze and develop constructivism in ways markedly different from Korsgaard in Part 2. The second part abstracts away from particular arguments for constructivism and advances three interconnected theses that sustain the theory: the Constructivism Thesis, the Publicity Thesis, and the Universality Thesis. Separating these often-intertwined propositions enables an inspection of them individually, each with their own benefits and potential drawbacks. I argue that they all cannot be accepted together, and this explains why metaethical constructivism has relatively few adherents (despite the excitement with which the theory was initially greeted). I argue for a version of constructivism that rejects a strong interpretation of the Universality Thesis, and therefore one that permits both public and private reasons. The strong version of the Universality Thesis asserts that all reasons are normative for all individuals. According to strong universality, there are no reasons that govern only smaller communities; all reasons are shared by all people. This is a disadvantage of Korsgaard’s constructivist theory, as some reasons appear to legitimately apply to only select individuals. Societies are created in part to express and differentiate people’s values, priorities, and preferences. Greater autonomy is a result of a theory that permits less-than-universal rules and lessthan-universal rules are therefore beneficial for a theory to espouse (if it can do so reasonably). A weaker version of the Universality Thesis asserts that there is a least one reason that is normative for all of humanity. Universal reasons figure into a universal morality. This leaves space within the theory that there are

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Introduction

some reasons that are not shared by all of humanity – reasons that are normative for communities and individuals parasitic upon either membership in a smaller-than-humanity group or an individual’s identification with a personal goal. I argue that these reasons are legitimate as long as they do not conflict with one’s moral reasons. Rejecting strong universality does not imply the denial of the Con­ structivism Thesis, as Korsgaard suggests. Instead, a different strategy for constructivism may be meaningfully articulated. My new constructivist theory, Enlightenism, answers that call. Whereas Korsgaard blends the three theses so that it appears that universality is part of publicity, I unwind the theses from each other and demonstrate that a public constructive morality does not imply strong universality. As I am writing this, I hear a loud children’s song play on a tablet computer that entertains a toddler in the coffee house that I use as a writing space. Others at coffee are quietly reading. The song continues for a few minutes and I look over to the mom so that she sees that I am distracted and will (I hope) turn down the volume. What reason do I use to oblige her to turn down the music? It is probable that we have two different sets of rules – mine is to be quiet and considerate of others at a public space. By looking at her, I attempt to engage her to see if she takes the hint that it is inconsiderate to blast music (according to me). She does not appear to understand. Now, I could get angry at her and call her names or glare at her. I could think of her as rude. But that assumes that we are operating according to the same rules (and obligations). And it is possible (probable, even) that we are not. If one of us creates an unpleasant consequence for the other person to “force” compliance through punishment, that will not entail that we share the same rule. We will still go home to our like-minded communities and indicate how “rude” the other was. What will get us to share a rule? Communication that acknowledges a different common rule we already had, or consideration for the other that may be elicited thorough emotions or discussion. So, we can communicate our rules to each other and try for either the understanding of a common rule or a compromise. I try to imagine her rule: It is good to entertain your children so they do not tire and start crying. Or, this is a public space, used by many people for many purposes, like a town center, so I will use it to chat with my friend while my toddler plays songs. An agreement about what we should do to resolve the issue (the loud song is interfering with my writing) requires that we respect each other and understand that respect requires communication and compromise in a shared world. My version of constructivism assesses the situation this way. Though we have different reasons that govern our own behaviors, the universal rule that

Introduction

7

we both share requires that we respect each other and attempt a reasonable compromise. We can each still maintain our own rules about our own appropriate behavior in coffee houses while working out a solution together based on the value of respect and the fact that we both live in a shared community and inhabit a public space. My disagreement with strong universality is not merely theoretical. It is also moral. Contrary to what Korsgaard indicates, it is less moral to expect that all reasons are universally shared. By making public reasons universally required, she undermines a truly good aspect of morality: permission to disagree. I argue that reasons are shareable even if they are not actually shared, and that there is no reason in principle that we should be required to actually share all reasons. In summary, instead of dismissing ethical constructivism, I revise it. My version of constructivism embraces the constructed and mind-dependent source of reasons and obligations, and recognizes that the reasons and obligations upon which morality rest are public and shareable. Unlike Korsgaard’s version of constructivism, however, I argue that not all reasons and obligations are universal. My theory is therefore less restrictive to personal autonomy than Korsgaard’s theory. It is more tolerant of disagreement and differences in value. It is also arguably both more subjective (since personal endorsement is necessary to generate a reason for oneself) and also more exact in the procedures which result in the generation of reasons and obligations. In the third part, I resolve some remaining difficulties with constructivism by discussing various criterions that can be applied to systematically assess which reasons are stronger than others for individuals in cases of conflicting reasons. In the last two chapters, I apply concepts and methods from Buddhism to Enlightenism. I argue that Buddhism resolves seeming paradoxes by showing that two kinds of truth exist (both relative and absolute) and that they are interdependent. Such a treatment of seeming inconsistencies can be applied to the remaining difficulties with Enlightenism. With the Buddhist insights, ethical constructivism is more appealing, as it can elucidate the psychological and ethical complexities that are a part of being human and living in a shared world. The result is constructivist enlightenment, which involves understanding the interdependence of people upon each other, other beings, and the environment. In the end, good reflection along the lines I suggest leads to people treating others as an extension of themselves. It abolishes selfishness, yet still prizes diversity and autonomy. The practical outcome of an acceptance of a constructivist theory of the kind I develop and examine in Creating a Shared Morality cannot be understated. Though the development and discussion of the theory is highly theoretical, the impact of metaethical constructivism is significant. On my interpretation

8

Introduction

of universality, even though all reasons are not shared, people are essentially and ethically bound to respect others, even those vastly different from themselves: from their not very friendly neighbors and those on opposite sides of politics, to those in cultures on the other side of the globe. Furthermore, the respect entailed is not of a mere “live and let live” variety, but rather one that invests in other people as significant and worthy. Importantly, constructivism creates this shared morality via a process of reflective endorsement that does not simply enlist subjective feelings (as it also involves a procedure). It utilizes a naturalist and scientific framework (instead of relying on a supernatural God or metaphysically objective values). Applied, ethical constructivism recognizes the imperfections of people and the inevitability of living as an imperfect person inextricably intertwined with a community of other imperfect individuals (locally and globally). It embraces diversity and autonomy and points the way towards reconciliation with ourselves, others, and the world around us.

part 1 Arguments for Ethical Constructivism



chapter 1

Ethical Constructivism and Its Origins Constructivism in ethics in its various forms has been in development since the Age of Enlightenment when some philosophers (correctly) recognized serious inadequacies with the realist account of morality. Realist accounts claim that moral values are real and objective; values obligate people in virtue of their metaphysically real status (and they are therefore objectively binding on everyone). However, one might question where such moral values reside, where the moral rules come from, and why they are normative for us. 1

Supernaturalist and Realist Externalism

Under a supernaturalist theory of metaethics, one may begin to answer the questions thus: God is a lawgiver and moral rules come from His will. He commands us to obey certain rules and we are therefore obligated to obey Him. However, these answers are unsatisfying and prompt further questions of how those rules could legitimately function to bind us to obey them. What features do they have that give us a compelling reason for why we ought to do them (i.e., what makes them normative for us)? ‘Normative force’ is the element within a proposition that makes it imperative, or changes it from a statement into a command or a rule. Normative force makes it the case that something “should” or “ought” to be done. It obliges people to comply with it. We might put it this way: God, an alien, or even Satan could command us to do something, but not just any command by anyone carries the force of obligation. What is it about a command given to us by an external being that could put the rule in position of being authoritative over us? There appears to be a missing step. One might argue against supernaturalist metaethical theories (such as divine command theory) that commands are normative for us only if we accept them as such. The reason that we might choose to obey God is because we want to please Him, or because we want to do good, or because we think we will get rewarded. Individuals may desire none of the above, however, and in that case, we might ask if they are still obligated. That ‘open question’ (to use a term by G.E. Moore), indicates that the origin of the moral obligation is not in God’s commanding but rather in our taking of God’s commands to carry authority over us by virtue of the direction of our own wills. The popular adage “might does not make right” succinctly invites an important distinction:

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chapter 1

powerful beings cannot make something morally binding on others simply in virtue of their being able to punish the disobedient. This poses a problem for a supernatural account of metaethical normativity. Immanuel Kant argued that the missing step is that the command must be good (and we must ourselves assess it as good). Kant, a Lutheran Christian, worried that some people thought obedience to God’s commands were rules for them based on God’s sheer supposed power over them and His ability to reward or punish them. However, if a very powerful king gave the subjects decrees that enforced slavery, torture, and unjust murder, those rules would still never be moral. Though they might be commands, they would never carry the normative force of obligation. A good person would reject the king’s rules. Therefore, the normativity (i.e., reason-generating or obligational force) of a rule originates not in its being given by a very powerful being nor in that being’s ability to punish people for lack of adherence. Rather, Kant argued that we should obey God only if what He commands us to do is indeed good. And we should do those things regardless of whether we will be rewarded or not; we should do good things for their own sake. This way of explaining the solution dissolves the problem of supernaturalist realism by making the source of the rules we follow internal (within us) rather than external (commands by a powerful being). It therefore shifts metaethics from the supernatural to the self. Thus, though Kant believed in God, he did not adhere to a supernaturalist account of metaethics. Related issues arise for naturalized metaethical theories. According to naturalist theories, moral values issue from the natural world around us. Consider the normative claim that pain is bad. How could the fact that pain is bad obligate individuals to reduce pain in themselves and others? Like supernaturalist theories, naturalized theories still rely on values that come from outside individual wills. One might argue that people are motivated to avoid pain in themselves because feeling hurt causes an automatic reaction of avoidance. That reaction comes from inside each person and is therefore not ‘external.’ This answer appears to conflate being motivated to avoid pain with having a reason to avoid pain. Though normativity and motivation are often discussed as supportive of each other, one does not necessarily imply the other. Feeling hurt may motivate many to avoid pain, and this may be related to a reason to avoid pain, but neither the motivation nor the reason to personally avoid pain implies a motivation or reason to help others to avoid pain. It is therefore merely a subjective reason to avoid pain, instead of an objective reason to help reduce pain in oneself and others. This line of naturalist reasoning fails to provide an adequate justification for realist ethical theories such as utilitarianism.

Ethical Constructivism and Its Origins

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In particular, one might wonder why people have a reason to act kindly towards strangers, especially if doing so inconveniences, decreases pleasure, or even causes some pain for the person with the supposed reason to help. Helping a friend move could very likely mean sore muscles later; swerving into a tree on my bike to avoid a toddler who runs in front of me would cause me considerable physical injury. Other people are external to oneself just as the supposed real moral values are external to oneself. An external entity, though ‘real’ does not in itself give anyone a reason to acknowledge it, abide by it, or act in its favor. And basing the reasons of helping people on one’s own feelings results in a subjective theory of metaethics, dependent on the feelings one has regarding the pain of others. Those feelings may not be reliable guides to moral action, and they may, at worst, be entirely self-serving. Supernaturalist and naturalist metaethical theories are often termed ‘realist’ theories because the source of obligations is thought to be a real and, therefore, an objective moral standard that resides outside of the particular subjective standpoint of individual agents. Under such theories, it is challenging to account for the motivational force that reasons carry. Therefore, such accounts of the force of reasons are named ‘externalist’ because something external to the agent makes the rule, even though the agent is supposed to be the one bound by the rule. In these cases, externalists resort to various devices to show that one “ought” to obey those external rules since they are “good.” This begs the question, “good for whom?” If I do not see a rule being good for me in a particular circumstance and I did not create the rule, then it is unclear why I have any reason to follow it. 2

Subjectivist and Contractarian Internalism

As opposed to externalist accounts of the motivating force of reasons, ‘internalist’ accounts argue that the reason a rule binds us must ultimately be connected to what we want or who we are. This kind of justification for adhering to a rule respects our freedom as agents. We are not forced to abide by bad rules or rules made by external authorities; instead, we freely choose to act on those rules that we create for ourselves. We endorse principles for ourselves to follow that we think are good. Whether this should be interpreted as objectively good or merely subjectively good for oneself is one of the tasks of this book. The most common internalist account is subjectivist. Subjectivist accounts hold that individuals have the exclusive ability to legislate rules for themselves. For example, David Hume argued extensively that the only rational way

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to explain why humans have a reason to do anything must be based on the individual’s own psychology. On Hume’s account, an agent’s beliefs and desires combine in appropriate ways and lead to actions. Only beliefs are held to an external standard of truth. Desires or drives, which on his account are necessary to stimulate action, are neither right nor wrong, rational nor irrational. For example, if an individual believes in God and desires to follow God, then that person would be bound by what God wants them to do. Since the origin of the obligation lies in what individuals want, Hume’s subjectivism does not lead to an objective morality. Such internalist solutions are usually unattractive to supernaturalist metaethicists, even when they are metaphysically inclusive of God. First, obligations created by Hume’s methods fail to obligate everyone. Furthermore, the rules do not issue from God. Rather, the origin of normativity arises from the psychology of individuals. Hume’s account is similarly dismissive of any naturalistic explanation of an objective morality. Not only do people lack obligations to care for others, but they also lack any objective ‘rational’ reason to care for themselves. A recognition that a great pain awaits us if we do not prevent it does not itself create a moral obligation to avoid circumstances leading to the pain. Hume infamously stated in his magnum opus, A Treatise of Human Nature: ‘Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger. ‘Tis not contrary to reason for me to chuse my total ruin, to prevent the least uneasiness of an Indian or person wholly unknown to me. ‘Tis as little contrary to reason to prefer even my own acknowledge’d lesser good to my greater, and have a more ardent affection for the former than the latter.1 Under subjectivism, it is only an individual’s psychology that creates reasons and obligations. Desires and preferences are neither moral nor immoral. They just are. One’s psychology, furthermore, need not make rational sense to anyone else because reasons are generated from inside a particular person, and bind only that person. They are based on a combination of beliefs and desires under Hume’s explanation, but the subjective nature of reasons and obligations on Hume’s account can be captured by any account of human psychology. If people act kindly towards others, it is due to a psychological trait of theirs, such as sympathy, wanting to look pleasing to others, or having a generally jovial disposition. It is common in such accounts for sympathy to bridge the gap 1 David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, 1:3:3.

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between the self and others and create an appearance of morality. Sympathy is useful – most people desire to be liked, and caring for others is a way to get public approval. Helping others may be conscious and calculated, but it likely arises out of habitual training from childhood and thus displays less conscious awareness and selection. Hume’s arguments are persuasive in their consistency. However, his account explains the force of reasons and prizes the autonomy of individuals at the high price of dissolving morality. Obligation is an illusion. Reason has no sway over my desires nor any bearing on what I am motivated to do. ‘Reasons’ and ‘obligations’ are merely the psychological motivational force of desires in a fancy disguise. Some accounts, called ‘contractarian,’ are inspired by Hume. They claim that individuals with subjective reasons can make mutually beneficial agreements to perform in certain ways in exchange for other goods and services. These agreements operate like morality because in order for society to function well, all parties must perform their end of the contract. In this way, people do owe things to others. Obligations are created based on freedom of choice and contract. I may not want to do house chores, but I do them anyway because my spouse and I agreed that I will clean the bathroom and kitchen weekly, while he will dust and mop the floors. Or, I am tired from work and do not want to go to a friend’s party, but I know that she is counting on my cheerful presence. According to contractarianism, I do not perform my house chores because I am obligated by my partner. That way of seeing things would make it appear that I had an external authority that obligates me. In one way this is an advantage for the theory, since external theories of moral obligation fall short in justifying how people are bound to obey an external authority. Rather, I am bound to myself to uphold my end of the contract that I freely made with my husband to clean the bathroom and kitchen weekly. If I fail to uphold my end of the agreement, then I would equally expect him to fail to uphold his end of the agreement, and we would live in a dirty home. Neither of us could trust each other to fulfill the agreement, and both of us would suffer the consequences. These are the considerations that would inspire me to do my weekly chores even when I am busy and do not feel like doing them (on a Humean-inspired contractarian account). It is commonly acknowledged that organized societies and a division of labor within them (when regulated by trust and reliability) are mutually beneficial for the members of the societies. Divided tasks allow for greater efficiency and proficiency in the creation and distribution of goods and services in a society. Shared resources enable individuals and communities to flourish and obtain luxuries that they would otherwise be unable to secure alone. Hospitals,

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schools, parks, libraries, and public works departments that develop and protect safe and accessible roads, water, and electric power are all fine examples of goods and services that now appear essential to contemporary people. These are all attainable for us only because of the cooperation of individuals within a society. However, a wide nexus of agreements among many individuals across society merely mimics morality. This is because individuals are obligated by themselves, not each other. The evidence that this account only simulates morality is that anyone at any point could simply fail to uphold their end of the agreement and either defraud others or simply not care about the consequences of their failure. And under this account, the con-artist and the negligent are not irrational nor immoral. They only present difficulties within the overall system that lead to a less than optimal functionality of the society. In some cases, wherein the failures to adhere to the system are numerous or extreme, the society itself may falter. David Gauthier, Thomas Hill, and Thomas Scanlon are all philosophers inspired by the Humean line of argument that attempts to develop a simulated morality based on subjective reasons that arise from individual psychologies within a society. Contractarianism is a resolution to the problems of how individuals can be bound by obligations and still have autonomy and inner authority. However, the obligations, like contracts, may be reneged upon, since individuals have obligations to uphold their contracts only to themselves. In contractarian theories, the normative force of obligations arises from individuals and is moderated through those individuals’ desires; therefore, the obligations arising from the psychologies of individuals may be terminated by the obligated individual. Under contractarianism, people are not categorically bound by rules; the rules have only conditional force. Those who are convinced that unconditional obligations should be a feature of morality have two options: 1. Reject internalism about reasons and return to theories such as supernatural or natural realism about morality or 2. Develop a new theory. Constructivist accounts of morality take the second approach. Constructivism retains internalism about reasons and maintains that some obligations are unconditional. These obligations represent rational or moral requirements from which individuals are not exempt. While Humean-inspired accounts have sometimes been called ‘constructive,’ they are more properly termed ‘contractarian,’ to differentiate them from accounts in which there are unconditionally binding obligations. Imagine the intuitive power of a metaethical account in which individuals can be bound to others and by morality, yet wherein individuals are still self-directed and free. This dream theory saw its birth in Kantian metaethics and grew into adolescence with the theory that is now called ethical constructivism. Contemporary constructivism defined in

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this way is no older than the 1980s and it is still exploring its precise para­ meters. Some theorists argue that Kant was the original constructivist, though it is unclear whether Kant himself was a constructivist in the same ways or to the same extent that contemporary constructivism embraces. Constructivist accounts originated with Kant and were later carried out to some degree or another by John Rawls, Christine Korsgaard, Carla Bagnoli, and Sharon Street. 3

Kantian Transcendentalism and Procedural Morality

Immanuel Kant argued that neither a purely realist nor a purely subjectivist account is correct. Kant’s transcendental argument claims that morality is binding on all rational human agents because moral claims issue from the form of rationality itself within each of our wills. Insofar as we recognize what rationality requires us to do in order to maintain autonomy over ourselves as agents, we also recognize our rational (and, therefore, moral) obligations to both ourselves and others. Under Kant’s account of human psychology, there is an animal will and a rational will within each of us. If we act on our animal wills to the exclusion of our rational wills, then we become fragmented individuals. In such a heteronomous will, we could never be truly free (even if we follow our own desires as the subjectivist and contractarian accounts advise). This is because we lack total power over ourselves (as individual unified agents of both animal and rational will). It is only once we have a unified will that we can wholly and rationally choose a principle to follow; choosing principles under the proper processes makes them good principles. By contrast, subjectivist and contractarian accounts derive their imperative force from desires, which issue from the animal will. These theories, therefore, would have agents endorse rules for themselves based on their often fickle and fleeting feelings. Such accounts are incomplete and lead to irrational endorsements of rules since they do not combine both the animal and rational will in a unified decision. If we follow only what we desire, then we are slaves to our passions instead of masters over our wills. We consequently fail to follow what is rational and right. Rationality and morality are dictated by the exercise of our rational will over our animal will, and this dominance of the rational over the animal will coincides with freedom. What is rational for us is acting in conformity with our own unified will. When we can consistently act this way, we are properly constituted agents and we are free. Kant argued that the Categorical Imperative, which is the supreme law of the will, is the rule that we should act in conformity with our will. The

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Categorical Imperative (which he formulated in various ways) reveals how to act rationally. It involves following a procedure to test for inconsistencies and it assures us that we have considered the factors that constitute a reasonable standard. These procedures that guide rational choice expose what is moral, as well. Kant knew he was advocating for a different kind of ethical theory that blended the previous two dominant metaethical theories of realism and subjectivism. Both contemporary constructivism and the metaethical theory that Kant originated embrace what we might call ‘the Kantian Procedural Thesis.’ The Kantian Procedural Thesis: The activity of rationality is a process that has objective standards defined by the activity of rationality itself. Following these procedures will lead to morality. Contemporary constructivism adheres to the Kantian Procedural Thesis and adds the specification that morality is not something already in the world that rational reflection uncovers. Morality did not exist before people started reflecting; rather, reflection itself creates the standards of morality. Unlike contractarian approaches, constructivist approaches explain that people should adhere to morality not because it is advantageous to do so but because the rational will dictates such standards in order for people to be autonomous individuals. Note that both contractarian and constructivist theories have an advantage over the traditional realist, supernaturalist, and naturalist metaethical accounts. Both contractarianism (including its subjectivism counterpart) and constructivism maintain that individuals have authority over their reasons and obligations. Morality does not issue from an outside source. Instead, morality is within us. Since it is not external to our wills it automatically has motivational force and the inherent authority to govern us. Kantian constructivism has an advantage over contractarianism in that it accounts for a legitimate morality that all rational beings share, and it is therefore a form of objective ethics. Under a contractarian account, morality is not universal, nor is it objective. The biggest questions for the Kantian constructivist account regard how exactly rationality creates objective and universal moral reasons and whether the account is theoretically consistent. John Rawls, one of the 20th century’s most influential philosophers, revitalized Kantian arguments to shed light on the construction of the concept of justice in ways that approached contemporary constructivism. He created a process in A Theory of Justice involving an abstracted individual and society. He argued that any rational individual would only willingly choose a society that distributed goods in a way that benefitted the least well-off in society.

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His process began with the removal of people’s biases towards themselves and others. While some characteristics of people are socially advantageous, others are disadvantageous. Justice should be impartial between people and it should not be based on these sorts of characteristics. Rawls termed this abstraction a “veil of ignorance.” People should choose principles to govern their society while ignorant of their own and others’ positions in that society, including their wealth, status, talents, and attractiveness to others in that society. Even though he argued that rational (and relatively risk-averse) people would choose a society that distributes goods to benefit the least well-off, inequalities between people could still remain. The chosen principles would not have to be egalitarian and could benefit those who contribute more towards the society. But no one would choose to live in a society where they may be marginalized, enslaved, homeless, and hopeless among the downtrodden. This ideal society in Rawls’s theory could (in one’s imagination) be extended to include of all of humanity. Rawls’s rational endorsement of principles via a process which thereby creates objectively valid moral rules of distributive justice is similar to Kant’s Categorical Imperative procedure that exposes moral principles for all of humanity. They are both procedures that lead to morality by showing what we ourselves would freely and rationally endorse. Both adhere to the Kantian Procedural Thesis. According to Rawls, his procedure to choose the principles of justice was only overtly constructivist regarding one area of normativity: namely, those rules that govern the distribution of goods in societies. Rawls was undecided on whether other kinds of normativity, including other ethical obligations, are grounded in ontologically real values. Therefore, some people interpret Rawls as a constructivist, and some interpret him as a Kantian contractarian. Regardless, Rawls inspired two of his students, Christine Korsgaard and Carla Bagnoli, to develop more thoroughgoing forms of constructivism that are far more radical, encompassing all ethics (and indeed all normativity in the case of Christine Korsgaard).2 Hilary Putnam, clearly one the most prolific and significant philosophers of the 20th Century, also suggested the plausibility of constructivist ethics by arguing for a constructivist model of mathematics. Unlike Korsgaard, he did not provide specific arguments in favor of a constructivist view of ethics, neither did he elaborate on what features would be present in an account of the kind. Nevertheless, his lectures suggest to readers that such an account, 2 Carla Bagnoli (ed). Constructivism in Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

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whatever it might look like, is a plausible alternative to the realist and subjectivist lines of thought in ethics.3 4

Korsgaard’s Neo-Kantian Thoroughgoing Constructivism

Christine Korsgaard is by far the most dominant figure in ethical constructivism, as she was the first philosopher to explicitly argue for neo-Kantian metaethical constructivism. Her views are the primary focus of most contemporary philosophical discussions about ethical constructivism, regardless of the tradition and scope of the form of constructivism (Humean or Kantian; thoroughgoing or not).4 I term Korsgaard’s theory ‘neo-Kantian’ to mark the lineage, and variously ‘metaethical,’ ‘ethical,’ and ‘moral’ to reveal the particular focus of the theory. I use the term ‘thoroughgoing’ or ‘radical’ to dictate the vastness of the scope of her constructivism. Her theory indicates that all normativity is constructed. This is the case across various domains (among which she specifically articulates constructivist origins for the areas of language and morality). Her explanation of obligation covers all phases of its development, beginning at the very origins of values themselves through the principles to determine the obligations that individuals have in particular circumstances. Her original publications in neo-Kantian ethical constructivism (“The Reasons We Can Share” (1993) and The Sources of Normativity (1996) were read by most ethicists with eagerness.5 Her views quickly gained in prestige, and she has garnered the respect and admiration of many philosophers who continue to engage her views with keen interest. Yet to date she has convinced relatively few ethicists that metaethical constructivism is a consistent and 3 Hilary Putnam, Hermes Lectures, Lecture IV. 4 There are presently numerous journal articles yet only two books devoted to the subject of constructivism. Oxford (2012) claims to have published the first book devoted to the subject, while Cambridge followed closely behind. Carla Bagnoli, the editor of the Oxford anthology, is another radical constructivist inspired by Rawls. Within that anthology, seven out of the ten chapters are devoted largely to Korsgaard’s views, while the few remaining focus on Kant or Rawls. 5 Christine Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share: An Attack on the Distinction between Agent-Relative and Agent-Neutral Values,” Social Philosophy and Policy (Winter 1993), 10(1): 24–51, reprinted in Creating the Kingdom of Ends (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 275–310. Christine Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), originally published as a transcript of her Tanner Lectures given at Cambridge University in 1992).

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genuine alternative to the other two metaethical views of the origin of values. As a newcomer to the traditional metaethical theories, metaethical constructivism’s place alongside the traditional theories of realism and subjectivism is not yet proven. Many philosophers prefer conservative revisions of theories that have been advocated in the past. Under Korsgaard’s version of constructivism, which she often calls ‘Publicity as Shareability,’ all normativity, including the normativity of reasons and obligations, as well as that of meanings, is on a par. They are all created within and between individuals both in principle and practically. By “in principle,” she means that all moral and linguistic values and rules depend upon people. Nothing has intrinsic value and there would be no value, rules, or obligations in the world without rational beings. Morality is not revealed to us nor discovered by us. Rather, morality (and all normativity) is created by us through a rational procedure of taking certain things to be valuable. She develops her account as an extension of Kant’s. Korsgaard’s lucid and imaginative Kantian scholarship echo throughout her original arguments in ways that seamlessly blend Kantianism and her own theory. Her account is best described as ‘neo-Kantian’ instead of ‘Kantian,’ however, since a variety of other Kantian scholars disagree with her on how to interpret Kant’s actual arguments and commitments. To be clear, although Korsgaard is a ‘radical’ or ‘thoroughgoing’ constructivist, who attests that all normativity is constructed, her arguments specifically regard the origin and nature of morality. Therefore, her account is properly called ‘moral’ or ‘ethical constructivism.’ It may also be called a ‘metaethical constructivism’ to highlight that on her account there are no objectively real values that ground other ethical principles, as Rawls’s account leaves open. In the following chapters, I take on Korsgaard’s arguments and the general theses that support radical neo-Kantian metaethical constructivism in ways that are analytically challenging, yet largely sympathetic to, Korsgaard’s program. The idea is to sift through Korsgaard’s arguments in novel ways and then analyze and develop what remains in thoroughgoing metaethical constructivism. To accomplish this, I analyze and evaluate Korsgaard’s arguments for constructivism. Then, I develop arguments on her behalf for a type of constructivism about reasons. These reasons, she postulates, are public and shareable, thereby creating an objective standard for morality. However, unlike realist accounts, moral principles are not grounded in real values or moral facts that lie outside the realm of people’s psychologies. Rather, they are public in virtue of the fact that they are communicable and shareable. Korsgaard’s Publicity as Shareability claims that all reasons originate from within the mind, and

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specifically through an agent’s endorsement of his desires from the perspective of his practical identities (or conceptions under which he values himself). The reasons that result are not private, issuing normative commands only for the agent who endorses the desires, as might be expected under subjectivist and contractarian accounts. They are instead essentially public; that is to say, they have normative force for all agents. The difficulty for constructivism lies in explaining how a personal desire and resultant reason create normative force for everyone. The normativity for all agents of such reasons, Korsgaard appears to claim, is evident in the way that we communicate with each other – in giving and taking each other’s reasons under a compulsion that she calls ‘obligation.’ I develop detailed and systematic arguments for Publicity as Shareability based on Korsgaard’s writings. I excavate two separate strategies from her passages which I term ‘the Inductive Strategy’ and ‘the Deductive Strategy.’ The Inductive Strategy has a fairly clear articulation in Korsgaard’s The Sources of Normativity, and it is the primary focus of objectors to her arguments in the literature on her version of constructivism. It is an argument by analogy which asks us to consider the similarities of meanings and reasons, wherein meanings are purportedly public and constructed. We are then invited to conclude that reasons are also public and constructed. This argument is provocative, yet easily dismissed by those who are unconvinced of either the constructed publicity of language or the similarity between language and morality. The Deductive Strategy is a more thorough and convincing argument for Publicity as Shareability. To develop this argument, I piece together passages from The Sources of Normativity to support a grand argumentative structure that rests not on an analogy but rather on the nature of communication itself. The focus of the argument is the publicity of linguistic consciousness (PLCA) and an implication between PLCA and the publicity of reasons in the constructed sense. I argue that the arguments for Korsgaard’s version of constructivism (Publicity as Shareability) are inadequate to ground it. Korsgaard’s argument for the constructive publicity of all reasons, as she presents it in The Sources of Normativity (and my various interpretations and revisions of it), involve invalid inferences and they must be rejected. One might nevertheless think that even though Korsgaard’s arguments fail, that the conclusion for which they aim deserves further attention. A successful neo-Kantian constructivist theory is still possible and I aim to show that neo-Kantian moral constructivism is a legitimate and appealing third way metaethical theory. To fully explore this consideration, I propose examining Korsgaard’s main account of reasons in detail. I abstract away from her particular arguments to unwind the central claims that any constructivist account should include. I name two primary components of such a theory:

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‘the Constructivism Thesis’ (which explains the source of reasons) and ‘the Publicity Thesis’ (which regards the nature of reasons). It is the arguments for these two theses with which I am primarily concerned in Part 2. Publicity Thesis (PT): All reasons are inherently public; i.e., all reasons have normative force capable of obligating all of humanity, regardless of people’s personal interests. Constructivism Thesis (CT): All reasons are constructed from the psychology and mental states of individuals. Moral values are not found; they are created. Values would therefore be different if people’s psychologies were different. One may summarize these theses by stating that Korsgaardian theories claim that reasons are binding on everyone (i.e., public) yet mind-dependent (constructed or originating from the mind or minds). The Publicity Thesis is open to two alternative interpretations regarding the scope that reasons take. One entails that all reasons are universal and the other rejects universality. Korsgaard claims that the latter construal does not capture the true nature of reasons, since reasons are inherently shareable and transferable through communication. However, with the former, an undesirable result follows, which has the effect of showing that the theory under this description is committed to accepting a radical form of ethical relativism that is ungrounded in and unlimited by rationality. It therefore lapses into subjectivism and does not comprise a genuine third way metaethical theory. Since these two ways of construing the Publicity Thesis encompass all of the alternatives, and both are unsatisfactory on Korsgaard’s account, we should reject Korsgaardian constructivism. If my arguments succeed, then I will have shown that it is not merely this or that particular argument and variations of it within Korsgaard’s work that are mistaken, but that the general account as a whole does not work together properly to express itself as a consistent, satisfying, and genuinely third alternative to the traditional theories of ethics. 5

Saving Constructivism from Inadequacies: Enlightenism

Constructivism can be salvaged, however. I refine certain concepts and offer a new neo-Kantian version of ethical constructivism: Enlightenism. I argue that constructivism allows for the admission of private reasons (which does not undermine constructivism’s eschewal of realism). Constructivism can work,

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but the Universality Thesis should be dismissed, and a weaker form of the Publicity Thesis should replace the one that Korsgaard’s theory necessitates. I argue that some reasons are constructed and public, and some reasons are constructed and private. I call this particular view of the nature of reasons ‘weak constructivism.’ In the final chapter, I use Buddhist philosophy to dissolve problems and paradoxes that appear to threaten constructivism. This paves the way for constructivism to flourish as an East-West metaethical theory which embraces the insights within subjectivism and realism, as well as within Eastern and Western methods of philosophy.

chapter 2

Public Reasons as the Basis of Objective Morality The constructivist is faced with a burden to explain how morality could possibly be objective yet grounded entirely in the mental states of individuals. The traditional moral theories attest that either moral obligation stems from real objective values (realism) or else that genuine moral obligation (to others) is a kind of illusion since it is subjective and depends on the psychology of individual agents (subjectivism). A paradigm of something that is objective has the feature of occupying a public physical space that can be experienced by anyone. The California Redwoods can be visited by people from China, just as the Great Wall of China can be traversed by those from the United States. Certain conditions must be met to experience these places firsthand, such as a obtaining a passport, getting transportation, and knowing how to navigate to the specific location of the site. Anyone using the right methods can experience the Redwoods and the Great Wall, and they can prove that they have been there by taking a photo. Moral values are not physical objects, but they can be public in another way. Going through a particular process to get somewhere is analogous to how a constructivist sees getting to morality through a rational mental process. What guarantees that the result is objective, however, is not a physical experience of the moral value or something that can be captured in a representation. Rather, those individuals utilizing the same process come to the same conclusions and hold the same moral standards. Acting on the moral principle that results is a proof that agents take it as normative for themselves. I call this kind of publicity ‘procedural publicity.’ 1

Procedural Publicity

Korsgaard argues that moral obligations are public in the procedural way. The publicity of reasons and obligations in this way distinguishes her view from a common neo-Kantian line of justification for an objectively binding morality that seeks to derive moral obligation from private reasons. She argues that the problem with private reasons is that they will never secure a truly objective morality, since they are based on subjective mental states. By contrast, public reasons are mental states, yet they are not essentially private. They can be accessed by anyone using the right methods, just as the Redwoods and the Great Wall can be accessed by anyone with the tools to visit. A reason

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is ‘public’ just in case it has normative force for all of humanity, with the capability of obligating regardless of personal interests. Conversely, a reason is ‘private’ if it has normative force for only one individual or if its normative force is derivative from, or in some way dependent upon, the agent’s particular interests or situation.1 Korsgaard argues that because all reasons are public (and no reasons are private) that moral principles are objective and we can (in principle) share all of our reasons and obligate each other by following the right procedures. If her arguments succeed, then any reason I have to do something also gives you a reason to help me, simply in virtue of you understanding my reason. In this way, we can obligate each other.2 There are two kinds of ethical theory that embrace the publicity of reasons: realism and constructivism. Some realist views (for example, some interpretations of Kant and Rawls) enlist procedural publicity to reveal reasons and obligations that we have always had. These reasons are public because they purport to be based on real and objective moral facts. The procedure would thus be like a map for buried treasure, where the treasure consists of accurate moral values. Constructivism, however, maintains that the treasure is inside each person, as a part of their psychology and mental states. Constructivism’s primary contribution as a third theory of metaethics consists in the plausibility that objective reasons are derived from the personal mental states of individuals. Individuals therefore create their morality through a process utilizing their own mental states. Since everyone (presumably) has excellent access to their own mental states, constructivism not only ensures greater autonomy, but also greater accuracy between the reasons people think they have and those they actually have.3 Under constructivism, if people’s mental states were different than they are, then morality (and the reasons and obligations that people have) would be different. Korsgaard’s theory is one of the only constructivist theories developed, and it is also one of the best 1 Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 106 (footnote). Korsgaard defines public reasons as equivalent to what in the literature have been called ‘agent-neutral’ or ‘objective’ reasons, and private reasons as equivalent to what have been called ‘agent-relative’ or ‘subjective’ reasons. I have doubts that these are equivalent. 2 Christine Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) and “The Reasons We Can Share: An Attack on the Distinction between Agent-Relative and Agent-Neutral Values,” Social Philosophy and Policy (Winter 1993), 10(1): 24–51, reprinted in Creating the Kingdom of Ends (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 275–310. My arguments throughout Creating a Shared Morality center on Korsgaard’s views as elaborated in these two pieces. My page references for the latter will be to the reprinted version. 3 The way I read Korsgaard, what reasons people have and what reasons they think they have are identical. I do not think this is a necessary implication of constructivism and my view is that they are not identical.

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articulated accounts of how people’s mental states can plausibly create reasons and obligations. 2

Reasons as the Basis for Morality

Korsgaard’s theory is reason-based as its central concern is to elucidate the reasons and obligations that we have. Korsgaard’s definition of a reason is “reflective success.” She states simply: “‘Reason’ means reflective success. So if I decide that my desire is a reason to act, I must decide that on reflection I endorse that desire.”4 We have desires or impulses, just like other animals, but what makes humanity different is that we can reflect on those desires and choose those that are good for us to act on; these capacities both enable and subject us to rational constraints. When we reflect and endorse a desire as a reason to act, we appear to be saying that it is rationally acceptable.5 On the other hand, obligations arise from reflective rejection; if, on reflection, I reject a particular desire as giving me a reason for action, then refraining from acting on that desire will be obligatory.6 When divided according to the corresponding traditional categories of ethical action (those of permissibility and requirement), to act on a desire is permissible if and only if it is endorsed, impermissible if and only if it is rejected, and required if and only if it is contradictory to a desire that is rejected. Thus, Korsgaard’s theory embraces a Kantian worldview, wherein normativity arises from humanity’s reflective nature. But even if you accept this much, she notes that she has not yet demonstrated that there are moral reasons or obligations, and she claims that moral reasons are owed to others and not simply in respect to them. The difference is that the direct recipient of the benefit in a case of moral obligation is not necessarily the same person as the one in whom the desire-turned-obligation originates. Moral obligations may be mimicked, for example, when people act 4 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 97. 5 Paul Hurley, in “A Kantian Rationale for Desire-Based Justification,” Philosopher’s Imprint 1, no. 2 (2001), pp. 1–17. argues against Korsgaard’s claim that reasons must always involve reflective success. Pre-reflective desires can provide rational reasons for action if they are endorsable if reflected upon; that is, if you would have reflected upon them and endorsed them, then they are rational. He cites Barbara Herman as a fellow adherent of this position using an argument from her “Making Room for Character,” in S. Engstrom and J. Whiting (eds.), Aristotle, Kant, and the Stoics, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 48. Although I tend to agree with this criticism, it will play no part in my argument against Korsgaard, since I am arguing against the more general claim that all reasons are inherently (constructively) public, which would include pre-reflective rational desires-as-reasons, if they exist. 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 102.

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to care for others out of ‘a sense of obligation.’ In these cases, the person is obligated to himself to do what he thinks is right. In genuine moral obligation, Korsgaard argues, people are obligated to other people, not just to themselves. She takes seriously the interpersonal nature of obligation. Her view is therefore quite distinct from varieties of subjectivism (and neo-Humean contractarian approaches). Thus far, her argument does not dictate the scope of the normativity of reasons and obligations. It could range within only one person (which would be the equivalent of ethical egoism) or within only a small group of people (which would result in a position often defined by what many ethicists have called ‘special obligations’). The scope that is necessary for moral obligation is all of humanity. 3

Korsgaard’s Argument for the Constructive Publicity of Reasons

Korsgaard explains how we come to value humanity (our own and others’) by examining what she calls a person’s ‘practical identity.’ A practical identity is a set of values and beliefs that a person uses to express themself. These values entail that certain reasons, namely ‘practical reasons,’ should be acknowledged and acted upon by the agent from whose values they spring. In other words, a practical identity determines the commitments that particular agents have.7 For example, my practical identity encompasses several roles that I occupy, such as a professor and a daughter, and each of them commits me to things such as teaching students and calling my mom on Mother’s Day. Korsgaard argues that if a person has any practical identity at all, then that person also has a moral identity. Any practical identity entails that an agent must have moral commitments, and moral commitments are a form of practical identity. So, a person has a practical identity if and only if she has a moral identity. This is explainable along the usual Kantian lines, namely, that our values or ‘practical identities’ are what make us human. Therefore, when we acknowledge that we value something, we are in essence acknowledging our humanity, and a person’s humanity rationally entails that a person has moral obligations. Korsgaard shows her agreement with Kant in this passage: [I]f you value anything at all, or, if you acknowledge the existence of any practical reasons, then you must value your humanity as an end in itself. Or, I might put it, if you are to have any practical identity at all, you must 7 Of course, it is uncontested that an agent may also acquire commitments in other ways, for example, via agreement.

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acknowledge yourself to have moral identity – human identity conceived as a form of normative practical identity – as well. I take this argument to show that any reflective agent can be led to acknowledge that she has moral obligations.8 Here, Korsgaard equates valuing one’s humanity with acknowledging one’s moral identity. Similarly, she claims, in Kantian fashion, that the reflective agent must value her humanity (and thus her identity as a moral agent) if she is to “value anything at all.” It is important to note that people who have practical identities may not acknowledge their moral identities, even though they have them. A lack of acknowledgement of one’s moral identity is due to improper reflection on the entailments of one’s practical identities; appropriate reflection rationally leads one to an acknowledgement of this necessary conclusion. For example, people may not identify their civic duties due to insufficient reflection on their identities as members of their towns, cities, and countries. Likewise, many people may shirk their moral duties to the unfed, unclothed, and uneducated, stating that it is not their responsibility to help. According to Kant and to Korsgaard, these people would come to understand their obligations if they reflected more fully on their membership in humanity. Their identities imply moral obligations to others, even though they may not understand the implication yet. The entailment of a moral identity from a person’s practical identity, however, requires that there be some sort of inconsistency in valuing my humanity and failing to value your humanity. Valuing one’s humanity requires acknowledging that one has moral obligations only if “valuing humanity in your own person rationally requires valuing it in the persons of others.”9 Korsgaard agrees with the Kantian that indeed valuing oneself rationally entails valuing others, but since Kant never explicitly explains how this arises, the work of developing the argument has been handed down to those who follow in Kant’s tradition. One of these developments (which Korsgaard rejects) is what she calls ‘the neo-Kantian argument for moral obligation.’10 It specifies the relationship between valuing one’s own humanity and valuing the humanity of others by arguing that it is the content of private reasons that we possess that forces us to 8 9 10

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 125. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 121. Although Korsgaard calls the private reasons argument ‘neo-Kantian,’ her own argument is also neo-Kantian (as it elaborates upon and changes certain Kantian arguments and views).

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share the private reasons of others.11 She explains the neo-Kantian justification for this claim thus: These neo-Kantian justifications characteristically begin by showing that you are rationally committed to a certain normative conception of yourself, or to valuing certain features of yourself. They then try to move from that conclusion to the further conclusion that you must hold the same normative conception of others, or value the same features in them, on pain of contradiction.12 So, if I reflect and I value anything at all, I will value my humanity. And the neoKantian justification takes this private reason to entail that I must value others’ humanity as well, since, if I think about it, your humanity is like my humanity, and if mine is valuable, then yours must be valuable as well. And if you do the same, (i.e., we ‘reciprocally exchange’ our reasons), then we share a reason. According to this line of argument, moral obligation (which is public because we share it) is therefore derivable from the private reasons of individuals. Although Korsgaard accepts the Kantian claim that reflecting upon the value of one’s own humanity will force a rational person who reflects appropriately to realize also she has distinctively moral obligations, she rejects the assumption that it is the content of private reasons which force one to do so. She points out that the neo-Kantian line of reasoning, utilizing private reasons, is ‘logically flawed.’ She says: Consistency can force me to grant that your humanity is normative for you just as mine is normative for me. But it does not force me to share in your reasons, or make your humanity normative for me.13 In her criticism of the neo-Kantian argument, Korsgaard takes seriously what it would mean if reasons were private. The use of private reasons in the argument would in essence mean treating ‘your humanity’ and ‘my humanity’ as different terms in a language, which are ultimately irreducible to general statements about a single humanity in which we both share. When I assert the proposition that my-humanity has value and you assert the proposition that 11

12 13

Korsgaard cites Alan Gewirth as arguing this way in Reason and Morality (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1978), p. 218. Gewirth says: “[E]very agent necessarily regards himself as having a right to basic well-being and must, on pain of contradiction, acknowledge a similar right for others.” Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 133. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 134.

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your-humanity has value, neither logically entails the other; you cannot by an act of logic deduce that if my-humanity is valuable then so your-humanity must be, too. It seems that the neo-Kantian has not demonstrated that the content of the private reason of valuing one’s own humanity implies that the person must also value others’ humanity. According to Korsgaard’s critique, the neo-Kantian argument fails because what results is not a rationally-required morality, but rather merely what one might call an enlightened egoism. Moreover, Korsgaard claims that any argument that attempts to derive morality from private reasons can never accomplish its task. She says: If reasons were essentially private, consistency would not force me to take your reasons into account. And even if it did, it would do it in the wrong way. It would show that I have an obligation to myself to treat you in ways that respect the value which I place on you. It would show that I have duties with respect to you, about you, but not that there are things I owe to you. But some duties really are owed to others: we may be obligated by others, I will argue, in much the same way that we may be obligated by ourselves.14 The important thing to note in this passage is that for Korsgaard private reasons can never lead to moral obligation. That is, even if private reasons could force me to value your humanity (which Korsgaard believes they cannot), they would not do it in such a way that would create moral obligation. This is because they could at most “show that I have duties with respect to you, about you, but not that there are things I owe to you.” So, if I value my-humanity and have a certain conception of myself as, say, a respectful person, I will value your-humanity. But I am not valuing your-humanity because I owe you that respect. I am valuing your humanity because I owe it to myself to treat you with respect. Otherwise, I might think myself (or actually be) a hypocrite; I would not be acting consistently with the identity that I ascribe to myself. In the neo-Kantian picture, private reasons are required for moral obligation and all moral obligations must answer to the first-person. But moral obligation itself requires that the reasons I have for valuing your humanity are based on the fact that your humanity is valuable (period – to everyone and not just to you). It cannot emerge from reasons based on my value – reasons that, as Korsgaard says, are merely “in respect to you.” Private reasons cannot lead to morality since if they could obligate me, they would “do it in the wrong way.” 14

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 134.

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But, Korsgaard claims, we do in fact have moral requirements that are the result of us valuing our humanity. Korsgaard rejects private reasons because moral obligation requires that “some duties really are owed to others.” She rejects that we “need a reason to take the reasons of others into account,” and states that “[w]e seem [only] to need a reason not to.”15 If private reasons do not accomplish the task of demonstrating that valuing one’s humanity entails having moral obligations, then reasons must not be private. She seems to take it as a fact that morality exists; that is, that rational persons have moral obligations that do not necessarily stem from our interests in or agreements with persons. Since the neo-Kantian justification of Kant’s original claim (which rests upon the assumption that reasons are inherently private) cannot do that job, there must be some other argument that can be used to demonstrate how humans are bound by morality. She also appears to assume that since reasons must be either inherently private or inherently public, and private reasons do not meet the demands for a derivation of morality, then reasons must be inherently public. Even if Korsgaard can demonstrate that we have moral obligations that entail that reasons are public, it may seem hasty to then conclude as she does that all reasons must be public. Since “some duties really are owed to others” then at most she seems justified in claiming that some reasons are public. However, she does give other arguments in support of the publicity of reasons that are independent from her argument for the rejection of the neo-Kantian derivation of moral obligations from private reasons. These arguments, to which I turn in subsequent sections, do entail that all reasons are public.16 The argument developed thus far only demonstrates that if we have obligations to others and not just to ourselves in respect to others, then reasons (at least moral reasons – or reasons which are the source for moral reasons) cannot be private. If these reasons exist, they must therefore be essentially public, which is to say that although they may be incidentally private (that is, it may be a contingent fact of the world that only one person actually has a particular reason to do something), they are nonetheless public in the sense that I can at any time obligate you by communicating my reason to you. Korsgaard’s particular variety of procedural publicity relies on the normativity of meanings within language and she terms it ‘Publicity as Shareability.’ 15 16

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 144. In addition to these arguments that she gives, she also argues against positions, notably Thomas Nagel’s in The View From Nowhere (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), which include both public and private reasons in the ontology of reasons. See her “The Reasons We Can Share.”

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Two Strategies: Inductive and Deductive

As mentioned in the last chapter, there are two argumentative strategies that I have extracted from Korsgaard’s Sources of Normativity for the constructive publicity of reasons. The first, which I call ‘the Inductive Strategy,’ analogizes between meanings and reasons. It claims that the constructive publicity of meanings gives us a justification for claiming that reasons are constructively public, as well. The second I call ‘the Deductive Strategy.’ This argument also relies on the publicity of meanings within our conscious experience, which Korsgaard calls ‘linguistic consciousness.’ It argues that reasons share a space in linguistic consciousness and that since linguistic consciousness is public, so too must reasons be public. This argument, and specifically the claims involving the publicity of linguistic consciousness, I analyze as making use of a premise that I call ‘the Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning,’ or FNPM. This premise states that I am forced or obligated to share your meanings and, therefore, need no intention of my own upon which the obligation depends. Later, I examine arguments I charitably reconstruct on Korsgaard’s behalf. I conclude that those that rely on the constructive publicity of meanings are flawed and unable to support the constructive publicity of reasons. However, the consistency and plausibility of any view is independent from any particular argument for it. Arguments, particularly those offered on behalf of a new view, are not usually indicative of the integrity of the view itself. Therefore, I further analyze and develop a theory of the constructive publicity of reasons in Part 2.

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Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument: The Inductive Strategy The easiest and most natural way to motivate a new account is by noticing a parallel between the possible approaches of two different subject matters, made plausible by similarities in the subject matter itself (or in past approaches taken to it). In the case of reasons, or morality in general, one may wonder if there exists some other type of thing that can be plausibly construed as binding on everyone yet mind-dependent. The account that best captures the nature of that other type of thing may then be used in service to explain the minddependent objectivity of morality. Therefore, an uncontentious example of a (non-morally) public yet mind-dependent normativity will help to garner support for the legitimacy of the constructive publicity of reasons (and morality). Korsgaard’s Inductive Strategy attempts to use an argument for the publicity of meanings in just this way. I argue that the Inductive Strategy adequately serves to buoy confidence that procedural publicity is legitimate, though it fails to indicate whether the procedure is completely mind-dependent. In other words, procedural publicity for meanings (and reasons, if they are similar in this respect) could both rely on mind-independent facts. Therefore, the Inductive Strategy may help to establish procedural publicity for reasons, but it does not favor constructivism over realism. The Inductive Strategy first endeavors to establish that meanings are public and constructed, and then compares meanings to reasons in order to suggest that the best account that can be made for reasons is to render them both public and constructed, as well. Korsgaard enlists Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument (PLA) to make her case for the constructed publicity of reasons. PLA famously argues against the possibility of private meanings and thus for the necessity of public meanings. The arguments for the publicity of meaning and the publicity of reasons must be structurally identical for the parallel to work. The implication is that if the argument for the constructive publicity of meanings is good, then the argument for the constructive publicity of reasons is also good. There are two dominant ways of interpreting the Private Language Argument. The Inductive Strategy is parasitic on interpreting it in one particular way. I argue that even if a compelling case for favoring one interpretation of PLA can be made over the other on Korsgaard’s behalf, an important asymmetry

© Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_005

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between meanings and reasons exists that weakens the analogy between them and renders the comparison in the Inductive Strategy invalid. 1

The Shareablity of Meanings and Reasons

Korsgaard’s first step in establishing that reasons are public in her sense is to argue that meanings are normative and thus inherently shareable. Employing Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument to fulfill this task, she says: [His argument] shows that I could not have a language which is in principle incommunicable to anybody else. When I make a language, I make its meanings normative for me. As Wittgenstein puts it, I undertake to use words in certain ways. And however I go about binding myself to those meanings, however I ‘bring it about that I remember the connection right in the future’, it must be possible for me to bind another in exactly the same way.1 The argument expresses that meanings are necessarily normative for people who use them through their language because if meanings were not normative, then people could not use meanings in a right or wrong way. But there must be a correct way to use the words of a language. If there were not, we would not ourselves be able to apply the same meaning twice in using a word or phrase to describe something. We would then be unable to communicate since there would be no fact of the matter as to what we were referring by the use of our words. Since we do apply the same meanings to refer to objects and to communicate with others, meanings must therefore be normative. And if they are normative for me, then it must also be possible for those same meanings to be normative for you. So, the Private Language Argument shows that meanings are normative because they are communicable. But Korsgaard must argue something stronger; she must argue that meanings are public. Wittgenstein’s PLA is usually interpreted to cover this maneuver. The argument purports to show that private languages do not pass the test of the normativity of meaning (and so are not languages after all). Therefore, meanings must be essentially public. There must be some sort of criterion (and this criterion counts as something public) that accounts for the possibility of being right or wrong about the use of a word or phrase. Korsgaard states “it takes two to make a meaning,” 1 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 138–139.

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and similarly “it takes two to share a reason,” (emphasizing that reasons are made and not discovered.2 By “two” she clarifies that she means not necessarily two people but even within a single individual. She says, “the two are the two elements of reflective consciousness, the thinking self and the acting self.”3 This latter explanation is important lest someone think that Korsgaard is inconsistent in her account of the genesis of a reason. A reason is primarily made through intrapersonal communication, not through interpersonal communication. Recall that for Korsgaard a reason is the product of someone reflectively endorsing their desires. The ‘active self’ is the part of oneself that has desires, and the ‘thinking self’ is the part that reflects on these desires and either approves of or rejects those desires. The parallel argument for reasons thus proceeds: Reasons must be normative and shareable. If they were not, then there would be no correct or incorrect use of a reason and we could not apply the same reasons to ourselves repeatedly over time or to others. Furthermore, reasons must be public, since there must be a criterion that establishes the sense in which reasons are normative and captures why and in what circumstances certain reasons may be used correctly or incorrectly. Korsgaard switches from meanings being ‘communicable’ to reasons being ‘shareable.’ The conclusion of the parallel is that meanings and reasons are ‘shared,’ not just that reasons are ‘communicable.’ Therefore, it is imperative to elucidate that in this argument, ‘incommunicable’ must be recognized as a synonym for ‘unshareable.’ It may be reasonable to suggest that communicability and shareability are coextensive, or equally applicable to all of the same objects, since it is not possible to communicate what cannot be shared and it is not possible to share what cannot be communicated (in principle, notwithstanding coincidental language barriers). However, it is dubious that ‘shared’ has the same extension as ‘communicated’ since: 1. Two people might share the same meaning (or reason) even though they have never spoken (i.e., they share the same meaning (or reason) but they do not do so for the same reasons (in virtue of having communicated to one another)) and 2. A person may successfully communicate a meaning (or reason) to someone but the respondent does 2 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 137. 3 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, 137. Joshua Gert’s focus in “Korsgaard’s Private-Reasons Argument,” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 64, no. 2 (2002), pp. 303–324, is to undermine the thesis that meanings and reasons are equivalent. He agrees with my understanding of her argument, explaining that “she is making a private reasons argument which is strictly parallel to Wittgenstein’s,” and cites evidence from The Sources of Normativity, pp. 137–139.

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not take on the meaning or reason as her own. I think that it is rather more plausible, as I will argue in the next chapter, that a person can choose to have control over the ways in which she uses words and over the ‘reasons’ she takes on as her own. If I am right, then Korsgaard would disagree emphatically with me on this point and state that, in fact, failures of the second kind (above) do not exist. I debate this more fully in a later section and give an in-depth analysis of the ways in which one may both interpret and best develop her account of reasons. It is even more dubious that ‘shareable’ and ‘communicable’ (and ‘shared’ and ‘communicated’) have the same meaning or intention. For the present argument, I will grant that they are synonymous only for the sake of showing that, even if they are, the analogy between meanings and reasons still fails to favor ethical constructivism over realism. 2

Two Interpretations of Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument

There is a debate (as usual with interpreting Wittgenstein) over exactly what the Private Language Argument does, or what kind of criterion (and in turn, what kind of publicity of meaning) is required to account for the normativity of meaning. Traditionally, there have been two camps: some believe that his argument is intended to show (and does show) that a language of sensations is impossible – that we need external objects to fix the reference of words. Others believe that it shows something quite different – that we need a community (of more than one language user) to begin a language since a single language user would not be able to, as Barry Stroud states, “check his judgements of sameness from one occasion to another by asking other people.”4 We may call these ways of interpreting Wittgenstein’s argument the ‘objective sense’ (indicating that there is an object behind the meaning) and the ‘constructed sense’ (indicating that the meanings of words originate with minds). Since there are two ways of interpreting the argument, there are also two ways of interpreting the publicity of meaning. Korsgaard herself interprets PLA in the second way, though it is not clear, even from her own statements, that she is justified in doing so. Although she states, “it takes two to make a meaning,” and inductively argues from the similarity between the normativity between meanings and reasons that in the case of reasons it similarly “takes two to make a reason,” her “two” is the thinking 4 Barry Stroud, “Private Objects, Physical Objects, and Ostension,” Meaning, Understanding, and Practice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 215.

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and acting self, not, two individuals.5 The “two” in the first case refers to two individuals, and so another argument is necessary to establish that the thinking and acting selves provide the same function as two individuals would in the constructed interpretation of PLA. Furthermore, the Inductive Strategy for the constructive publicity of reasons is a dubious argument because there is no consensus as to which interpretation of the Private Language Argument is correct and Korsgaard only considers the second interpretation. If one interprets PLA in the first way, one might say, “see, if we make a parallel argument for reasons, we see that there must be non-natural objects or facts about the way the world actually is for reasons to exist, and this, by the way, leads us directly to realism via procedural publicity.” Korsgaardian Constructive Publicity, in contrast with the publicity of realism, must align itself with the second interpretation of the Private Language Argument if it seeks to equate the types of publicity that reasons and meanings share. There must, furthermore, be a good reason for preferring the second interpretation over the first which does not beg the question against the realist. Korsgaard attempts to move directly from the publicity of meaning to the publicity of reasons in her sense by showing that the account for the constructive publicity of meanings is plausible. After briefly discussing the implications of the Private Language Argument, she claims that “the normative demands of meaning and reason are not demands that are made on us by objects, but are demands that we make on ourselves and each other.”6 However, since there are two ways of interpreting PLA, she has provided insufficient justification for grounding the publicity of reasons in the constructed rather than in the realist sense. At the very least, an independent argument is required to demonstrate that the Private Language Argument is better interpreted in the constructed sense than in the objective sense. In summary, there are a few hurdles that must be overcome to make a convincing parallel between meanings and reasons. First, the normativity of meanings and reasons as constructively public seems prima facie inappropriate until there is a reason to prefer the constructed interpretation of the Private Language Argument. After that is established, an argument is required to show that the thinking and acting selves provide the same function as two individuals to make meanings (and reasons). Finally, it is necessary to show that ‘communicable’ and ‘shareable’ are either synonymous or may be used interchangeably when speaking of meanings and reasons.

5 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 137. 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 138.

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Reasons to Reject the Inductive Strategy

One might attempt to argue for the superiority of one interpretation of PLA over the other in defense of or against Korsgaard to settle the matter. If there is one interpretation which captures the truth to the exclusion of the other about how meanings are fixed, then the Inductive Strategy may be employed. However, there are at least three reasons to dismiss an attempt to argue either way on the issue of meanings for the purpose of deciding which sort of publicity of reasons we ought to accept. First, there is no good reason to think that only one way of interpreting the Private Language Argument reveals the correct view regarding the conditions for the existence or instantiation of meanings. The predominant views on meaning concede that both a linguistic community and actual objects in the world contribute to the meanings of words or phrases. For example, on a standard externalist account of meaning, such as that expounded by Hilary Putnam, both the object itself and the views of experts on that type of object are essential elements in determining what our words mean, regardless of what we think we mean by them.7 Second, and related directly to first, disregarding one of these two ways of interpreting meanings reduces the theory’s explanatory value. Eliminating ontological commitments such as real objects in the case of meanings (or moral facts in the case of ethical constructivism) is a boon for a theory only if the explanatory value of the theory is at least as powerful as the theory it is attempting to replace. A certain anti-realism or epistemological skepticism about objects in general seems to underpin the constructivist positions for both language and reasons. I suspect that the conclusion that reasons are constructed is really based on an anti-realist view of the objects of either meanings or reasons. Korsgaard hopes to ignite skepticism about moral facts in particular by demonstrating the attractiveness of an anti-realist theory of meaning. If this is the case, then the relationship between the arguments for the publicity of meaning and reasons are quite different than what Korsgaard’s argument in Sources would have one think. Her argument is rather: Anti-realism about objects in general is true. Therefore, if there are reasons (and there are), and reasons are public (which they are), reasons are constructed. But the Private Language Argument itself does not imply anti-realism; that is why there are two different persisting interpretations of it. Since neither a realist would be 7 Hilary Putnam, “The Meaning of ‘Meaning,’” in K. Gunderson (ed.), Language, Truth, and Knowledge, Minnesota Studies in Philosophy of Science, vol. vii, (Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 1975), pp 131–193.

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convinced of anti-realism nor an anti-realist of realism using this tactic, it seems unproductive to explore the issue at length at this juncture. Third, the analogy between meanings and reasons is flawed. Whereas the first step in the Inductive Strategy requires that meanings are reasonably construed as being constructively public in order to draw an analogy between meanings and reasons, the second step in the Inductive Strategy necessitates that the analogy be a good one. In other words, the argument requires relevant similarities between meanings and reasons in order to provide good evidence of the conclusion that reasons are constructively public. In the Inductive Strategy, I explained that just as meanings are normative, shareable, and public (as PLA purports to demonstrate), so too reasons must be normative, shareable, and public. This is because reasons, like meanings, are both nonphysical types of things that we seem to be able to use correctly or incorrectly, and the ability to use them correctly or incorrectly presumes that there is a standard of application. Already this is an excellent basis for an appropriate analogy between meanings and reasons. However, digging further into the analogy, there are significant dissimilarities between meanings and reasons that undermine the argument. Specifically, asymmetries emerge between the ways in which meanings and reasons function. The Inductive Strategy is therefore invalid and the conclusion that reasons are public is not licensed. 4

Important Differences between the Meanings and Reasons

The publicity of meanings entails the communicability of meanings. Two language users can communicate given that both parties speak the same language. But the publicity of reasons in Korsgaard’s sense is supposed not only to entail those reasons are communicable between two members of the same linguistic community, but also that these reasons must be accepted by the individuals to which they are communicated. When the argument given for the publicity of meanings is extended to the publicity of reasons, it only warrants the conclusion that reasons are understandable when communicated. It does not support the further conclusion that those reasons must become the reasons of any individual who understands the reasons communicated. This recalls the question of whether ‘communicable’ is synonymous with ‘shareable.’ If they are synonymous, then the terms must be intersubstitutable without a change in truth value (at least as they are used in the Inductive Strategy). However, the word ‘shareable’ is vaguer than ‘communicable.’ The success of the Inductive Strategy relies on the slippery notion of ‘shareable,’

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which is arguably synonymous with ‘communicable’ under some interpretations, yet shareability clearly overstretches communicability by the time the conclusion of the argument and its import are understood. In other words, ‘communicable’ and ‘shareable’ do not have the same meaning, although we may be misled to believe that they involve the same kind of publicity because both types require a criterion. Sharing a meaning is very different from sharing a reason. When you share a meaning, you endeavor to use words in the same way as another person would, but when you share a reason you are not only using the same meanings, and thus understanding each other in an act of communication, but you are also endorsing the person’s reasons. There is no element of endorsement corresponding to meanings beyond the agreement to use a word in the same way. This is an important asymmetry between meanings and reasons. The feature of endorsement for a language (or meaning) comes prior to communication (i.e., we agree to speak the same language before we are said to be able to ‘share’ a language), whereas the element of endorsement for reasons comes after the communication of a reason (or what purports to be a reason). We understand something first, whether it is a desire of our own or a request made by another, then we decide whether to treat it as a reason, endorsing it upon reflection. If this is correct, if meanings and reasons share a feature of endorsement whose functions are quite different, then an argument which attempts to analogize between meanings and reasons in order to derive a conclusion concerning the type of publicity which each embodies is inappropriate. So even if the Private Language Argument does demonstrate that “it takes two to make a meaning,”8 the strength of the inference to the conclusion that “it takes two to make a reason” is lacking. Since sharing meanings and sharing reasons involve different kinds of endorsement, this significant asymmetry yields the Inductive Strategy clearly invalid. Ultimately, the most robust conclusion that can be made for reasons based on a parallel with meanings is that both are public in a procedural way. The Private Language Argument does not establish either meanings or reasons as assuredly constructed rather than objectively real. PLA can reasonably establish only that meanings are normative, shareable, and public (in the sense that they require a criterion). The Inductive Strategy cannot establish that reasons are normative, shareable, and public in the same way as meanings. John Rawls (Christine Korsgaard’s greatest influence beyond Kant himself) purposefully withheld an opinion on the matter as to whether values are ultimately 8 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 137.

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constructed or real. Though it is unclear why he did so, my argument in this chapter suggests that arguing for constructivism over realism is a challenging task. Thorough systematic analysis of arguments for metaethical constructivism is instructional, however, even when charitable interpretations of the arguments for the view fail. In arguing for a completely new metaethical theory, many missteps may be required to give the theory a firm foundation. Korsgaard gives other arguments regarding the publicity of meanings and reasons which do not rely on a controversial interpretation of Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument, nor on a dubious analogy between meanings and reasons. I turn to these shortly. So far, however, I have not disputed (and have thus implicitly agreed with) a few central claims: 1. Morality necessitates public reasons, 2. Meanings, as well as reasons, must be normative and shareable, and 3. Meanings and reasons require criterions for correctness, although what this amounts to in each of the cases may be very different. In the next chapter I develop and analyze a more complex strategy for Korsgaardian Constructive Publicity that I call ‘the Deductive Strategy.’

chapter 4

Communicative Understanding: The Deductive Strategy The Deductive Strategy is an argument for ethical constructivism that is stronger than the Inductive Strategy I explicated and analyzed in the last chapter. It aims to show first, that linguistic consciousness is public, and we are normatively bound to understand and use words in the same way as each other, and second, that understanding others’ meanings also morally binds us to take on others’ reasons as our own. I develop this argument based on charitable interpretations of pivotal interconnected passages from Korsgaard’s Sources of Normativity. For the strategy to achieve its conclusion (that reasons are public in a constructed way), meanings and reasons must be related to each other such that sharing meanings entails sharing reasons. In the last chapter, I argued that the Inductive Strategy may serve to boost one’s confidence about the possibility of constructed reasons, but that it does not serve as a valid argument. If meanings and reasons are public, the origin of reasons may be grounded in real objective moral facts or in constructed subjective mental states. The Deductive Strategy is a more ambitious argument that attempts to resolve this dilemma in favor of constructivism. I argue that the Deductive Strategy also fails because understanding people’s reasons does not entail taking others’ reasons as normative for oneself. Korsgaard claims that the compulsive and automatic nature of people’s responses to others’ reasons shows that reasons are shared when communicated. I argue that this is not the case. Even in instances that seem to display this connection, the appearance of taking on others’ reasons automatically and compulsively indicates only a habitual pattern of response, not the presence of a genuine shared reason. For a reason to be truly shared, one must endorse it through rational reflection. 1

The Argument that Language Forces People to Share Reasons

Korsgaard regularly asserts that there is a connection between meanings and reasons that does not chiefly consist in a relationship of similarity (as the Inductive Strategy lays out) but one of entailment. She says, “Why shouldn’t language force us to reason practically together, in just the same way that

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it forces us to think together?”1 She here appeals to language and its ability to normatively bind others in understanding in order to justify a claim that language can also normatively bind people to accept each other’s reasons. Language, she claims, has the ability not only to allow us to share each other’s meanings and reasons, but it also forces us to share each other’s meanings and reasons. Elsewhere, she says that “By making you think these thoughts, I force you to acknowledge the value of my humanity, and I obligate you to act in a way that respects it.”2 This means that through the use of my words, I can force and obligate you to both recognize and respond to my reasons. Furthermore, you are required to respect me in the way you respond. We must “reason practically together” about the subject of my communicated words. Korsgaard uses two examples to support her claims. Her first example intends to show that language forces us to respond to others’ requests. In it, she imagines someone calls out your name. She argues that the fact that you usually stop and respond shows that you have been given a reason to do so. If you do not stop to respond, you are shirking the reason given to you. She says: [I]f you walk on, you will be ignoring me and slighting me. It will probably be difficult for you, and you will have to muster a certain active resistance, a sense of rebellion. But why should you have to rebel against me? It is because I am a law to you. Of course you might not stop. You have reasons of your own, and you might decide, rightly or wrongly, that they outweigh the one I have given you. But that I have given you a reason is clear from the fact that, in ordinary circumstances, you will feel like giving me one back. “Sorry, I must run, I’m late for an appointment.” We all know that reasons must be met with reasons, and that is why we are always exchanging them.3 The second example she gives is of a professor and a student, wherein a professor is forced to find a time to meet with a student who requests it.4 Korsgaard asserts that the ability to force someone to understand and accept someone else’s meanings and reasons is demonstrable though the public nature of what she calls ‘linguistic consciousness.’ Linguistic consciousness, I take it, is the conscious experience in which our conceptual thoughts and resultant dialogue

1 2 3 4

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 142. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 143 (emphasis in the original). Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 143. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 143.

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takes place.5 She says, “The space of linguistic consciousness – the space in which meanings and reason exist – is a space that we occupy together.”6 She then links forcing someone to understand what she says with the publicity of linguistic consciousness: “All I have to do is talk to you in the words of a language you know, and in that way I can force you to think. The space of linguistic consciousness is essentially public, like a town square.”7 Although there may be various ways of constructing an argument for the constructive publicity of reasons on behalf of Korsgaard using these and other passages, I have isolated one that I think has the best chance of success with regard to both her aim and intent. I call it ‘the Deductive Strategy for the Constructive Publicity of Reasons.’ The Deductive Strategy for the Constructive Publicity of Reasons 1. Linguistic consciousness is public. (See the Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument (PLCA) in the next section.) 2. The publicity of linguistic consciousness allows me to use a language you know to force you to acknowledge my reasons and obligates you to respond to them in a way that respects me. (We are forced to reason practically together.) 3. Forcing you to understand my reasons and obligating you to respond to them in a way that respects me via shared linguistic consciousness shows that reasons are public (they are shareable and shared, once communicated) and constructively so (since understanding and being obligated by my reasons depends only on our mental states and does not in any way depend on any real moral facts outside of human psychology). My interpretation of Korsgaard’s argument results in Publicity as Shareability, her version of ethical constructivism. It is not a complex argument as I arrange it here, though the premises themselves shoulder a huge burden. I turn to them now. 5 Conscious experience is usually said to contain three different types of phenomena: thinking, experiencing and acting. Although she never says so, Korsgaard may use the term ‘linguistic consciousness’ to isolate the consciousness in which thinking takes place from the consciousness in which people experience things and act on the world. In any case, it is thinking together and not experiencing together or acting together which is the focus of her arguments in Sources. Though some may argue that the interpretation should only extend to thoughts actually spoken in a public language, I do not take on that clarification here. 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 145. 7 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 139–140.

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The Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness

The publicity of linguistic consciousness forms the first premise of the Deductive Strategy. It is the most important step in demonstrating Publicity as Shareability. Korsgaard says “I believe that the myth of egoism will die with the myth of the privacy of consciousness….”8 Here, she rests the entire project of morality upon the publicity of consciousness. The publicity of meaning (in the general sense which we derived from the Private Language Argument) is a requirement for the continuation of the project of establishing the publicity of reasons via the publicity of linguistic consciousness. That meanings are public entails that there is a criterion for the use of words in a particular language. When I use particular words in a language, it must be possible for you to criticize me for the misuse of a word. We know it is possible for us to normatively bind one another since this is what we do when we correct each other in the use of a word; we hold each other accountable to a standard. The publicity of meaning is essential in an argument for the publicity of linguistic consciousness, since if meanings were private, I could not, by the use of my words, ever enter your linguistic consciousness. I construct an argument for the publicity of linguistic consciousness that endeavors to show that since I can intrude on your consciousness by using words that have a public criterion, linguistic consciousness is public. This argument I extract is expressed by Korsgaard thus: It is nearly impossible to hear the words of a language you know as mere noise. And this has implications for the supposed privacy of human consciousness. For it means that I can always intrude myself into your consciousness. All I have to do is talk to you in the words of a language you know, and in that way I can force you to think. The space of linguistic consciousness is essentially public, like a town square.9 She argues here that the impossibility of hearing a language you know as mere noise implies that linguistic consciousness is public. This (she goes on to explain) is because I can use a language you know to “force you to think.” Forcing you to think, therefore, amounts to a proof that linguistic consciousness is public. As she says, “I can always intrude myself into your consciousness.” Below is my argument on her behalf:

8 Korsgaard, The Source of Normativity, p. 144. 9 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 139–140.

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The Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument (PLCA) 1. By using a language you know, I can make you think something in particular. (See my explication of this premise, FNPM, in the next section.) 2. By making you think something in particular, I intrude on your linguistic consciousness. 3. If I can intrude on your linguistic consciousness, then your linguistic consciousness is public. 4. Anyone can intrude on anyone’s linguistic consciousness by doing this. 5. Therefore, linguistic consciousness is public.10 The first premise states that I can make you think (something particular) by using a language you know. This is primarily a claim about the nature of language and how its normativity binds people. Language is one of the things that Korsgaard thinks of as compulsive and obligatory. We cannot help that we think of the meanings connected with the words in the languages we know. And if we share a language, I can use the normative power of that language to make you think of the meanings that are associated with the terms that I use. The second premise explains that if I can make you think something particular by using a language you know, I will therefore “intrude” on your linguistic consciousness. This premise claims that the normative power of the language I use to make you to think gives me a kind of access to your mental states. In the example given by Korsgaard, she says I can intrude into your thoughts to make you think. The third premise then explains that intruding in this way means that your linguistic consciousness is public. And the fourth premise generalizes this to everyone, since of course if I can do this to you, everyone else who is able to use the language can do this, as well. Finally, the conclusion is that linguistic consciousness is public. I now examine this argument in more detail and identify the requirements for linguistic communication to take place. Unpacking the first premise is the most important step for PLCA to go through. The first premise states that by using a language you know, I can make you think something in particular. The first observation that is required 10

Notice that the conclusion here is more robust than one might expect. Instead of the more specific claim that linguistic consciousness is public, the conclusion is that (general) consciousness is public. This is not a mistake as I believe that Korsgaard intends for the conclusion to be general. See the passage quoted above. Here is the reason why: by the use of language I can intrude not only into your linguistic consciousness, but into your consciousness in general. I can “make you think” even if you were not already engaged in thought.

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in order for this to work is that my intrusion into your linguistic consciousness must be made by using a language you know. I must use a public language, and a specific public language with whose structure and meanings you are acquainted. This is because if I do not use a language you know, then you will not in fact understand what I have said. You cannot understand it.11 And if you cannot understand it, then I cannot make you think something particular by the use of my words. I cannot make you think of what is meant by the sentence that I use because you do not know what it means. It may be tempting to point out that Korsgaard’s argument is circular since showing that linguistic consciousness is public depends on using a language you know. Does using a public language which you already take as normative for you assume that linguistic consciousness is public (and vice versa)? Wittgenstein’s argument for the publicity of meaning as discussed in Chapter 3 does not depend on public consciousness or even on another person with whom to share meanings. That would be to take Wittgenstein’s argument as entailing that meanings are constructively public. However, another option is available. Meanings could be public because they refer to real objects and states of affairs in the world. In this case, they would have a realist foundation. I argued that Wittgenstein’s argument does not show that meanings are publicly constructed as opposed to publicly real. So PLCA is not overtly circular. Of course, a shared public language is unnecessary for me to force myself into your consciousness. I do not need to speak to you in a language you know for you to respond to me. However, your response would not be due to the words I use and the meanings with which I use them. It will not be related to my meanings and, therefore, will not be an intrusion by me into your linguistic consciousness. I may make you think that I am trying to communicate with you, that you wish that you knew the language with which I am speaking, that I am a bore or self-centered since I am trying to speak to you in a language you do not know, as people think of those who spout Latin phrases to 11

Of course, there is a process to learning a language whereby someone comes to understand a language that they did not previously know. So, it is not impossible to come to understand the language or what someone means by this or that. It is controversial whether by learning a language people necessarily translate it to another language that they already knew. This is obviously Fodor’s view and those who subscribe to the necessity of a ‘language of thought.’ Practically speaking, it is usual that in learning a language we use tools to help us understand what someone is saying, such as descriptive and ostensive gestures. If you combine your utterance with gestures, then my probability of understanding you is much greater than mere chance, but it is still true that at this stage of learning a language it is not my words that have created the effect of understanding in you. It is therefore not the words that I use that intrude into your consciousness.

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others who have never studied Latin. But the things that you think in response to my words cannot be said in any real sense to come from me, my intentions, or my words that I use, since you could just as easily think any, all, or none of these thoughts after I have spoken to you. None of your possible responses could be said to be correct or incorrect; none of your thoughts could be said to issue from your understanding of what I have said. In order for me to be said to be making you think, I must use my words with some intention, some purpose, and it must be my words and my purpose that you understand and to which you respond. If I did not use my words with the intention to communicate a specific meaning to you, then it would be merely the words that were making you think, not me. The words would be intruding into your consciousness, not me. My utterances would then be just as good as words generated by a computer and transmitted through speakers that you happen to hear. Rather, it is specifically my words and the purpose with which I use my words to which you must respond. For example, my partner, Noah, sometimes talks to me while I am focused on watching American Ninja Warrior. He says, “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” While I hear and understand his words, instead of responding to him, I exclaim, “No! She was so close. That warped wall is tougher on short people, like me!” I respond to the television and that is what elicits my response, not him. Making someone think (in the way that is necessary for the stated first premise of PLCA) includes at least two components: a speaker’s intention to communicate something to the audience, and the audience’s understanding and responding to what the speaker has said. Another connected point is that in order for me to be making you think, it must be my words, my intentions, and my will that is entering your consciousness and forcing you to think. If it were your own interpretation of my words or your own intentions to hear what you wanted, then I would not be making you think. You would be making you think; your thoughts would issue forth purely from an act of your will, and I would not be forcing my will upon you. Since my intrusion into your consciousness is one way to evidence the purported fact that linguistic consciousness is public (if I can intrude in the way Korsgaard describes), then linguistic consciousness is public. But in order for me to intrude on your consciousness in a way that would entail that linguistic consciousness is public, that intrusion must mean that our consciousnesses are joined when I use my words, intentions, and will (via a language we share) in order to affect your awareness and thus, force myself into your sphere of obligation. Our wills must be joined when I do this. You see my will through my words and because you understand what my will is, you are also obligated to act in a way that respects it, i.e., you must respond to it. If linguistic consciousness

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is public, then my will makes a difference to you; I can force you to think. If I can make you think, if my words are normative for you and my will is a law to you, then that means that you do not have a choice about whether my words are normative for you or whether my will impinges on your consciousness and obligates you. Furthermore, I need to make you think something particular because if I do not, I could be said only to be working as a cause of your thoughts, and I could not be said to be making you think or intruding into your consciousness. On the other hand, and taking into consideration the points that I have already made above, if I merely act as a cause of your thoughts, but your thoughts are not a direct result of the meanings of the words that I use, then the words that I have used have not opened your consciousness to me. Your thoughts and consciousness are still private (if only incidentally so) and the meanings that I have tried to use to intrude on it have been unsuccessful. Korsgaard’s use of the phrase “these thoughts” in the passage above from which I extract the argument indicates that she also had in mind particular thoughts to complete the argument. The meaning of the word ‘make’ in “make you think” must, in addition, contain a normative component. It is not that I simply cause you to think something (or even cause you to think something in particular). I could potentially do that by stimulating nerves in your brain. The point is rather that my words are normative for you if we speak the same language and that I can use my words to make you think of what the words mean. Furthermore, doing this just means that I have caused, and in some sense and normatively obligated you to think thoughts that are a part of the public meanings of the words that I uttered. The words are normative; we both recognize that this is so and can use our words to communicate. PLCA claims that communication in this way is an intrusion into someone else’s consciousness. The words that I use to make you think must be normative, since order for them to mean anything, they must have a criterion for proper use and understanding. Thus, there must also be a possibility of making a mistake in using and understanding them. But if you are merely causally forced to understand what I mean by my utterances, then it would not allow for the possibility of mistake, which is necessary for meanings to be normative. Having nothing more than a causal connection between my utterance and your thoughts would undermine both the Inductive and Deductive Strategies, since they both rely on the normativity of meaning. Korsgaard attempts to derive the publicity of reasons from the fact that reasons are expressed through language. According to her, this involves an obligation to both understand others’ reasons and make others’ reasons your own. For Korsgaard, the publicity of language and the publicity

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of reasons are inseparable. Reasons occupy a space in linguistic consciousness. Reasons obligate us because language obligates us.12 Korsgaard affirms that she means an obligation and not a mere causal connection when she states that “causal connections cannot be wrong. What kind of necessity is this, both normative and compulsive? It is obligation.”13 Language is normative; we are not only able to understand people’s utterances but we appear to be compelled and obligated to do so. I summarize these points of explication regarding the first premise of PLCA, which states that “by using a language you know, I can make you think something in particular” below. Requirements for Linguistic Communication 1. My intrusion into your linguistic consciousness must be made by using a language you know. 2. I must make you think of what the sentence means or of what I mean by the sentence; i.e., the meaning of what I say must be a cause of what you think. 3. In order for me to be said to be making you think, I must use my words with some intention, some purpose, and it must be my words and my purpose, which you understand and to which you respond. 4. In order for me to be making you think, it must be my words, my intentions, and my will that is entering your consciousness and forcing you to think. 5. In order for me to be making you think, I need to make you think something particular. 6. The words that I use to make you think must in some way cause you to think. 7. The words that I use to make you think must also be normative for you or in some sense obligate you to understand them and respond to them.

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More precisely, we can be obligated, according to Korsgaard, in any event of communication, whether linguistic or physical. I can be obligated by understanding you say, “I’m in pain,” as well as by me seeing you crying or writhing. Both are instances in which you are communicating to me the information that you are in pain. Nevertheless, linguistic communication is the focus of Korsgaard’s argument and will be my focus in this paper, although my objections and suggestions work equally as well against her arguments, regardless of whether the communication of a reason is linguistic or physical. See Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 145–160 for her views regarding pain. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 139.

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I consolidate these important interpretive details of the first premise of the Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument into a precise version of it that I call ‘the Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning.’ The Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning (FNPM): When I am communicating something to you in a language you know, you are forced (obligated) to share my meanings (i.e., understand my meanings) and there need be no intention of your own upon which the obligation relies. FNPM is a concise explication of Premise (1) of PLCA. Premise (1) states that by using a language you know, I can make you think something particular. But I could not be said to be making you think if you were already intending to understand what I meant by the words that I uttered. For then you would be an inviting me into your consciousness. Understanding me would then be an act of your will, not an act of me intruding into your consciousness. In order for me to actually intrude into your consciousness, which is the next premise of the Deductive Strategy, I must do more than merely make you think. I must also make you think something in particular, and indeed, I must make you think of what I mean (since I am the one who is intruding, and not merely the words). In sum, you are forced to (i.e., I can make you) share my meanings (i.e., think of what I mean by my words) and there need be no intention on your part upon which the obligation relies. FNPM seems to have a certain plausibility when one considers that we usually seem to understand the meanings of the words and sentences that people utter without explicitly intending to do so. Korsgaard cites as evidence for FNPM that “it is nearly impossible to hear the words of a language you know as mere noise.”14 We do understand the words of languages we know automatically, and even if we intend not to listen to a person, we often cannot help it. For example, if you are laboring over Kant’s First Critique in the neighborhood Starbucks, you may be quite annoyed at others who are laughing and telling jokes over coffee. You tell yourself to ignore them because their conversation is distracting you from your important work, and you do not intend to listen to them. However, you soon find yourself a hostile, silent third party in the conversation. It certainly seems as if we are forced to understand the words of our language without intending to do so. Acceptance of FNPM easily leads to PLCA’s conclusion, that linguistic consciousness is public. Once one understands and accepts the requirements for linguistic communication, the publicity of linguistic consciousness follows 14

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 139.

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naturally. Objectors will most likely argue that language is private or requires internal ideas and intentions which cannot be truly communicated. This leads to the conclusion that people cannot force themselves into other people’s consciousness. However, for present purposes, I will not debate the virtues of public and private meanings to demonstrate one or the other as a better interpretation of the normativity of language. Rather, the conditional will do at this time because my purpose is to show that even if language is public, linguistic consciousness is public, and FNPM is true, that the Deductive Strategy still fails. 3

Obligating People to Take on Others’ Communicated Reasons

Premise (2) of the Deductive Strategy bridges the gap between the normativity of meanings and the normativity of reasons. It moves from the publicity of linguistic consciousness in Premise (1) to forcing others via that linguistic consciousness to take on others’ reasons and reason practically with them. Recall Premise (2): The publicity of linguistic consciousness allows me to use a language you know to force you to acknowledge my reasons and obligates you to respond to them in a way that respects me. (We are forced to reason practically together.) In the last section, I constructed an argument for the first premise of the Deductive Strategy, which asserts that linguistic consciousness is public. I explicated the central elements of the Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument (PLCA) as FNPM (the Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning). Premise (2) of the Deductive Strategy is nearly parallel to FNPM. The second premise asserts that linguistic consciousness itself implies that I am forced (obligated) to share your reasons and there need be no reason of my own that the obligation depends upon. I call this ‘the Forced Normativity Premise for Reasons’: The Forced Normativity Premise for Reasons (FNPR): When you are communicating a reason to me that I understand, I am forced (obligated) to share your reasons and there need be no reason of my own upon which my obligation depends. One can see the Deductive Strategy as an attempt to show that the Forced Normativity of Reasons is entailed by the Forced Normativity of Meaning. This

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appears to be an easy argument to make if we accept that reasons occupy a space in linguistic consciousness. If we agree with Korsgaard that linguistic consciousness is public, then it appears to follow that reasons are public in that same way. One might reason that if we are obligated by language, and reasons are expressed through language, then we are also obligated by reasons that are expressed through language. Just as we automatically and compulsively understand the utterances of speakers around us, we automatically and compulsively integrate reasons expressed through language into our own systems of reasons. And the way that reasons become public, through the communication of people’s reasons to each other (as indicated in the Deductive Strategy) implies that they are not only public, but constructively public. Others’ reasons become our reasons just as others’ meanings become our meanings. Korsgaard says, “[w]e do not need a reason to take the reasons of others into account. We seem to need a reason not to.”15 For Korsgaard, if someone requests something of you and you understand the request, then their reason is also reason for you to help them. It should be noted that on any account of reasons, possessing a reason to help someone (or indeed any reason to do anything) does not imply that you will act on that reason, nor even that you should act upon it. There may be competing reasons vying for your attention, and they may not all be possible to act upon together. Some reasons will be weightier than others, and, therefore, candidates for prioritization in deciding how to act. Having a stronger reason to act on some reason rather than another does not mean, according to Korsgaard, that the reason you reject acting on is not a reason. Some people prefer to reserve the word ‘reason’ for those reasons that are what one might call an ‘all-things-considered reason’ and use the term ‘prima facie reason’ for the reasons we may reject if they are superseded by another reason. I consider this to be a terminological choice and use ‘reason’ for all reasons, whether one chooses to act on them or not (as Korsgaard does), since it brings out more fully the possibility that one person’s reasons are the same as any other’s as long as they both have the same information. Due to the relative strength of the reasons involved, as well as the differing circumstances in how able one is to bring about the desired object of a certain reason, an individual may legitimately choose to act on one reason over another. This does not imply that the unchosen reason is not a reason. For example, some reasons seem objectively stronger than others for everyone. Ceteris paribus, it seems that there is more reason for me to help stop the proliferation of violence to Africans while mining ‘blood diamonds’ than to have the prettiest ring from a store that sells them. Likewise, individuals may have a 15

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 141.

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reason to help the starving people in developing nations, but one’s poor financial situation (a particular relevant circumstance) may prohibit that person from donating as much money as another who is relatively wealthy. Some people must use all of their money to support their family and provide the basic necessities of housing, education, food, clothing, transportation, child care, and health care. It is probably not incumbent on them to go further into debt in order to donate more. I qualify my use of the word ‘reason’ to ‘all-thingsconsidered reason’ when it is the best reason for a person to pursue given a particular circumstance. I explore the issues regarding the proper prioritization of reasons in depth in Part 3. Korsgaard explains how she can force her normativity of meaning and reasons upon you in this passage: If I say to you “Picture a yellow spot!” you will. What exactly is happening? Are you simply cooperating with me? No, because at least without a certain active resistance, you will not be able to help it. Is it a causal connection then? No, or at least not merely that, for if you picture a pink spot you will be mistaken, wrong. Causal connections cannot be wrong. What kind of necessity is this, both normative and compulsive? It is obligation.16 In her example, you are obligated to hear her words and interpret them in a certain way. You are also obligated to accept her reason and do what she says without a prior reason (e.g., that you ought to do what she says or that doing what she says will benefit you in some way, etc.). Unless you have a stronger reason not to do what she says, then you remain under her obligation.17 This, she claims, demonstrates that reasons are public and that they are derived from our shared linguistic consciousness, since private reasons do not force us to share others’ requests and demands in the way that public reasons do. 4

The Distinction between Felt Obligation and Actual Obligation

In one sense, FNPR seems right. There is evidence that we take others’ reasons as our own, that we do so automatically and compulsively, and that we feel obligated to respond to others’ reasons by helping those who request it of us. 16 17

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 139. It is important to note that the sense of the word ‘stronger’ used here is somewhat vacuous since it is merely a subjective weighing, and there is no objective standard by which to measure the strength of reasons. See Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 125–128.

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If one of my colleagues pops his head into my office and asks me to borrow a piece of department letterhead, then if I have one, I do feel forced to forfeit it. If I do not have a piece of letterhead, I feel obligated to at least respond to him by explaining that I do not have one. I feel compelled to offer him a reason for why I cannot help him. Furthermore, I may even feel that I need to help him find a piece, depending on my perception of the strength of his need. One might argue that my compulsive and automatic feeling that I should help get my colleague letterhead issues from what some call a ‘special obligation.’ Special obligations derive their normative force from relationships that we have. Our specific types of relationships entail certain duties that we owe to each other. A teacher owes her students a good education and assistance on academic matters, but teachers are not morally obligated to provide students with health care (and in the United States they are legally prohibited from giving their students medicine or even taking them to the doctor in most instances). However, explaining my compulsion to help my colleague obtain letterhead as a special obligation ignores similar instances of the acceptance of reasons that regularly appear to take place outside the bounds of the particular obligations associated with the relationship in question. Superintendent Casey Smitherman felt so compelled to get medical aid for a student that she committed insurance fraud; she was arrested and resigned due to overstepping her role.18 Similarly, even strangers (as Korsgaard mentions) appear to hold sway over us. It may be argued that we have these automatic, compulsive obligations with respect to anyone who requests anything from us (and this is just what is entailed by Korsgaard’s view Publicity as Shareability). Take an example of a person on the street, holding out a hand and asking if you have any money. You have no special relationship with that person and no information about the person’s situation. Yet many of us still feel compelled to give money at times, and we usually feel it is at least necessary to respond to the request. A shake of the head is a minimal response, and often perceived as inadequate. I have regularly overheard people beg forgiveness for their refusal to give to those in need: “No, I don’t have any money right now. I don’t even have any change. I am so sorry.” People readily lie in order to respond to requestors in the way they feel is most appropriate. How often do people say, “Yes, I have lots of money. I have a handful of change, too. But I don’t want to give it to you”? This response 18

Wang, Amy B, et al. “A Superintendent Used Her Son’s Insurance to Help a Sick Student. She Just Resigned.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 4 Feb. 2019, www.washingtonpost .com/education/2019/02/04/superintendent-used-her-sons-insurance-help-sick-student -she-just-lost-her-job/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.54f0b876df58.

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is highly uncommon and unacceptably callous, perhaps in part because we feel we do owe at least some offering to those people who need and request money from us. Possibly we are obligated to help if the person really does need help, and not having the money is the only justified excuse. We might even feel a little guilty for a moment afterward, for our lies or perhaps for our selfish response to a potentially genuine need. Korsgaard seems to think that this is indeed the case and that our excuses and justifications demonstrate that we are obligated by others. She says “that I have given you a reason is clear from the fact that, in ordinary circumstances, you will feel like giving me one back…. We all know that reasons must be met with reasons and that is why we are always exchanging them.”19 That we recognize the bindingness upon ourselves of the reasons that others give us is one possibility for why we feel compelled to give others justifications when we cannot or do not want to do things for others upon their request. However, contrary to Korsgaard’s interpretations of the compulsivity of response to a request as obligation, I offer another option. We might feel what seems to be the presence of an obligation (when an obligation is not actually present) simply because we are taught we should be (or ourselves think we should be) generous and kind. Generosity and kindness are behaviors that have been reinforced (and the opposites punished) in much of the population since their childhood. Giving abundantly even when it harms oneself forms a significant part of preschool and early elementary school education in society. The Giving Tree in the book of the same name gives until it is dead. Selfless and unconditional love are common celebrated virtues in religious groups. It is unsurprising that many people unconsciously act in accordance with these teachings, giving them the feeling of obligations, especially when others are present to observe their stingy behavior towards those in need. We can certainly be misled about the content of our genuine obligations. A felt obligation is just that, and perhaps only that. There may be no actual obligation present behind a compulsive and automatic need to reply to a request. There are other emotions that are felt as a result of teachings or systems of reinforcement and punishment that do not have an objective basis. Herbert Morris forcefully argued that there is such a thing as non-moral guilt, which is guilt that is irrationally felt.20 One interesting example is the guilt that people often feel when they have been accused of a crime that they did not commit. Evidence of non-moral guilt undermines the connection between a 19 20

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 140. Herbert Morris, “Nonmoral Guilt,” in Responsibility, Character, and the Emotions, ed. Ferdinand Schoeman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).

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felt obligation and an actual obligation. The presence of a felt obligation does not necessarily show that there is an actual obligation that lies behind the feeling. Rather than depending on feeling, reflection and rationality are better guides to determine one’s obligations. Kantians (Korsgaard included) prize the method of rational reflection to establish obligations. Therefore, the argument that Korsgaard offers is weak and ineffective, especially to those (like her) with Kantian proclivities. Furthermore, although many people who have felt obligations respond to requests in anticipated ways, some people undoubtedly ignore, refuse, or even sneer at those requesting something of them. This happens not only on the street in reply to those requesting money. It is such a common response from baristas and bartenders that television shows and comedians mimic it. Those of us who behave similarly, or have friends who do so, know that such non-compliant individuals usually feel justified in their refusal to take others’ reasons as their own. And, it might be noted, it is more normal to see individuals verbally offer excuses to street people than it is to see them give money. This may be due to selfish inclinations in some instances, but it is also arguable that many people do not think there is a genuine reason that has been presented to them. By offering a sympathetic lie, they might be trying to minimize the harm or offense to the person requesting something. 5

The Significance of Understanding versus Endorsing Reasons

I argue that all reasons are not automatically others’ reasons. FNPR is false and the Deductive Strategy fails. Intuitions about whether FNPR is true or not vary depending on the example given, and the more thoroughly we analyze it, the more doubts about its veracity arise. At first, it seems fair that reasons should be answered with reasons. However, as I suggested above, this may only feel right due to a conditioned response in us. Contrary to FNPR, I furnish examples that show that intuitions about specific cases call FNPR into question. Understanding a reason is different than endorsing a reason, and these examples drive a wedge between the two. Arguments are necessary when intuitions conflict, which is the purpose of the Deductive Argument that I developed to support Publicity as Shareability and is the focus of this chapter. I argue, however, that despite the most charitable construction and readings of this argument, reasons are not all constructively public. The lack of reasons that people have to respond to cat-calling illustrates how refusing to answer certain requests is sometimes the most rational (and moral) strategy. Is it wrong to refuse to answer back to a cat-call? No. Of course not.

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One might say on behalf of Korsgaard that malicious requests or commands do not need to be answered, but that assumes the cat-call is malicious. From the cat-caller’s point of view, it is more commonly a simple request for attention from someone they find attractive. Through non-responses, those who receive cat-calls can condition the cat-caller that attention will not be returned by that manner of request. The non-response is appropriate and helpful to both parties and the community at large. A non-response may be even more appropriate and more moral than saying “hello,” nodding, or even explaining “Please, don’t speak to me that way. It is disrespectful!” This is because any direct response conditions the cat-caller to continue seeking attention, whereas no response indicates (better than saying) “I don’t respond to that kind of behavior.” Psychologists often counsel people to respond with similar non-responses to bullying and internet trolling. These examples provide copious instances of intuitive, rational, and moral reasons to oppose FNPR. In addition, they are vastly more convincing in comparison to Korsgaard’s calling of a name example and others like it. Consequently, FNPR lacks adequate ground without significant argument for it. Establishing the truth of FNPR needs much more justification than some intuitive support and a parallel structure to that of FNPM. FNPR is more controversial than FNPM and it requires an argument for its truth based on more foundational premises. This is the point of the Deductive Strategy. The version of the Forced Normativity Premise involving meanings is a weaker and more reasonable foundational premise than the one that states that I am forced to share your reasons. As I indicated in the example of the hostile silent third party, I think FNPM has at least prima facie plausibility. If reasons are constructed from words, then perhaps we can show that the premise “that others’ reasons obligate us without our having to endorse them” is not as contentious as we once thought. Before I continue, I would like to respond to an objection that may be leveled against the way that I am phrasing the Forced Normativity Premises for Meaning and Reasons. In particular, it may appear unfair to Korsgaard or to those in sympathy with her that I am saying that I am forced to take your meaning or reason. Perhaps, an objector will state, I have not taken seriously that meanings and reasons are public. Am I once again thinking of meanings and reasons as private property? Have we not already dismissed trying to obtain the publicity of meanings or reasons from private ones? But this objection does not get things right. Let us become clear on exactly what it would mean to say that it is not your meaning or reason that you are forcing me to take on, but mine, as well, and that since meanings and reasons are

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public you are only forcing me, by public linguistic consciousness, to recognize the meaning or reason that I already have. According to Korsgaard, meanings and reasons are created; they are made, not discovered. In the linguistic community, or constructive interpretation, of the Private Language Argument and Publicity as Shareability, meanings (or their correlate – objects) and reasons (and their correlate – values) do not already exist in objective space, waiting for people to enter into relationships with them or recognize them. Reasons can be created in two ways, according to the account under consideration: 1. I have reasons that issue from my commitments based on my practical and physical identities and 2. I have reasons that are presented to me by others. By being situated in public linguistic space, I come to understand the reasons of others that they present to me. They become reasons for me when I value others’ humanity and I am aware that I am required to take their reasons into account. The reasons that are under scrutiny in this chapter are those that fall under type (2). Thus, your reasons really are yours (and only yours) until you present them as reasons to others. According to Korsgaard, however, your reasons before you present them to others are only incidentally private; they are essentially public since at any time you could force others to share them. The second premise of the Deductive Strategy states: “The publicity of linguistic consciousness allows me to use a language you know to force you to acknowledge my reasons and obligates you to respond to them in a way that respects me. (We are forced to reason practically together.)” This premise involves two different implications: 1. If you use a language I know then I am forced to understand your reasons when you articulate them to me and 2. My understanding of your reason entails that I am obligated to respond to it. Assume for argument’s sake that linguistic consciousness is public (as the first premise of the Deductive Strategy states) and FNPM is true. Why ought we think that you are thereby forced to accept my reasons? If I can force you to think by the use of my words, then I can force you to understand my reasons, at least those reasons that I offer to you in a language that you know. This is because forcing you to think or understand what I say entails that you are able to understand what I say when I am communicating a reason to you. In this respect, communicating a reason to you does not differ from any other thing that I communicate to you. If you know the language in which I speak, you will usually understand what I say as long as I am clear and you are attentive. Therefore, the entailment between the publicity of linguistic consciousness and an understanding of reasons offered within that space makes sense. It is the link within the consequent between understanding a reason and being obligated to respond to it that is more dubious. That is the main problem

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for the Deductive Strategy. We can understand each other’s beliefs and desires without thereby agreeing on what we think or want. In the cat-calling example, the person being cat-called can understand the desire of the caller – namely, to get attention and sexual stimulation from yelling salaciously at a stranger. Yet, the understanding of that desire is not in itself an endorsement of that person’s desire. And it is certainly not a reason to respond to the cat-caller. That we can refuse to take on another’s reasons is similar when we are dealing with friendships. My friend, Mike, is interested in bridging the political divide in the US and he staged friendly debates between opposing sides for years. While I understand what he wants (peace and understanding) and why he wants it (he feels anxious about hostile disagreement in our nation), I thought that the friendly debates would be ineffective and cause him to worry more. I thought he would be better off meditating, doing yoga, or even going to see a music concert than using his free time to arrange political debates. I understand what he wants, and I respect and value him (as a person and as my friend), yet I do not thereby automatically have a reason to help him get what he wants. Some people might see this example as a disagreement about the means by which peace for the nation between opposing parties can be obtained. However, it is not necessarily the case that I want peace between opposing political sides. Instead, my allegiance to justice or human rights and decency may (and does) preclude my desire to have peace at any price. Furthermore, if Mike insists that what he really wants is to stage the debates (regardless of the outcome, which he in fact did for years even when it gave him grief), I still do not have any obligation to help him to do so. Instead of helping him or arguing with him about how helpful it might be or whether he should stage the debates, I diverted the conversation to another topic when we met. My purpose was not his and his was not mine. My purpose was to help keep him connected with his friends and take the focus away from politics so we could all have a pleasant and happy time together. Even in very close established personal relationships like domestic partnership, we can see what each other wants and even agree that it would be good for the other person to pursue it without also agreeing that it would be a good thing to help the other person pursue it. My partner, Noah, enjoys playing card games for hours, and I am glad for him. Noah has fun, exercises his strategic brain muscles, and socializes with friends. However supportive I am of Noah’s card games, I am not myself invested in them. I know some of Noah’s friends have spouses who attend the games to support their loves, but I spend time playing tennis with others or writing while he is at his games. By doing something else with my time, I am not shirking a reason I have to help him.

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Contrary to Korsgaard’s arguments and those that can be charitably made on her behalf, there is no good justification for FNPR and the constructive publicity of all reasons. Forcing people to share others’ reasons detracts from people’s autonomy. Failing to take on others’ reasons does not diminish one’s respect (or even love) for others. Even if linguistic consciousness is public, meanings are constructively public, constructive publicity is necessary for (non-realist) genuine moral obligation, and reasons are compulsively and automatically understood by those speaking the same language, there is no argument that has been made (or I think that can be made) to bridge the gap between understanding and endorsing reasons which demonstrates that all reasons are constructively public and FNPR is true. Although Korsgaard’s theory is attractive in some ways, the arguments for Publicity as Shareability should be rejected. It is unnecessary, however, to dismiss constructivism entirely as a third way metaethical theory. Under my version of constructivism, “Enlightenism,” which I argue for in Part 2, it is not the case that all reasons are automatically shared between people. Endorsement of a reason as “good” and as “good for oneself to take on” are different steps to be processed in rational reflection upon a proposed reason. On my view, some reasons are constructively public, but not all reasons are. I retain the neo-Kantian flavor of Korsgaard’s theory and her account of the genesis of reasons and obligations. It is the nature of all reasons as necessarily public that I contend is mistaken, and I construct arguments to show that what I call ‘weak constructivism’ (of which Enlightenism is one exposition) is a tenable and genuine third way metaethical theory.

part 2 Enlightenism: A New Theory that Answers the Hard Questions



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Three Theses: Constructivism, Publicity and Universality Metaethical constructivism is a promising idea. An objective morality that arises from the reflective endorsement of people’s subjective desires seems to give ethics just the kind of grounding that is scientifically and ethically respectable. Commitments to metaphysically dubious entities are unnecessary, yet morality still flourishes. Instead of morality being imposed from outside of people’s wills, it emerges from them. Rather than embracing either subjectivism or inflexible objective rules, its principles are distinctively human in their origin and in their substance. Although Immanuel Kant, John Rawls, and Hilary Putnam were all arguably forerunners to metaethical constructivism, no one articulated it more fully nor argued for it more passionately than Christine Korsgaard, who deserves the honor of being baptized ‘the Mother of Metaethical Constructivism.’ Under Korsgaard’s Publicity as Shareability, agents reflectively endorse their desires from the perspectives of their practical identities, which are the conceptions under which they value themselves. Being a daughter, a citizen of the United States, and a professor are all contingent practical identities that I have. At least one practical identity is necessary to everyone, however. That is the moral identity. It underlies agency and enables all other identities to function. It also requires, according to Korsgaard, that people share each other’s reasons. The normative requirement to share others’ reasons, she argues, emerges from the publicity of linguistic consciousness, which is the space in which reasons are communicated via public languages. She claims that people can force each other to understand others’ reasons and that understanding them then entails that recipients of communication are obligated to respond to requests. Korsgaard asserts that this is evidenced in the way we communicate with each other  – in giving and taking each other’s reasons under a compulsion she calls ‘obligation.’ In Part 1, I assessed Korsgaard’s arguments and those that could be reasonably made on behalf of her view, yet I concluded that they should be rejected. I am not the first person to argue that Korsgaard’s account and arguments are unconvincing. However, I see ample promise in her view; therefore, my arguments are more charitable, thorough, and rigorous than other commentators. Korsgaard’s bold vision for metaethics lays an aspirational foundation

© Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_007

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for constructivism as a genuine alternative to the traditional accounts of the origins and nature of morality. In Part 2, I create a version of neo-Kantian ethical constructivism that I call ‘Enlightenism.’ The reason for this name will become clearer in Part 3, wherein I use Eastern Indian philosophy to amplify the theory and resolve difficulties. In the present chapter, I unwind the central theses of metaethical constructivism in order to create a successful account. I argue that neo-Kantian ethical constructivism can be salvaged, though it looks substantially different than Korsgaard’s Publicity as Shareability. Enlightenism is consistent and plausible. It explains the source and nature of genuine moral obligation by relying only on the mental states of individuals, yet it is less relativistic than Korsgaard’s account, and it embraces the autonomy of individuals more. In the chapters that follow, I continue to use her account as a comparison to mine in order to show how Enlightenism avoids the weaknesses of Publicity as Shareability. 1

The Source and Nature of Reasons

Any constructivist account must adhere to two general theses: The Con­ structivism Thesis (which explains the source of reasons) and the Publicity Thesis (which regards the nature of reasons). I argue that the Publicity Thesis is open to two alternative interpretations regarding the scope that reasons take. One claims that all reasons are public and universal and the other claims some (but not all) reasons are public and universal. Korsgaard’s particular theory requires adherence to the first interpretation. However, I argue that this interpretation (which I call ‘the Strong Publicity Thesis’) is wrong. If my arguments succeed, then I will have shown that it is not merely this or that particular argument and variations of it within Korsgaard’s work that are mistaken, but that the general account as a whole does not work together properly to express itself as a consistent and satisfying constructivist account. I argue for a theory that embraces the other interpretation of the Publicity Thesis, which I call ‘the Weak Publicity Thesis.’ A theory that accepts some reasons as private and non-universal is preferable to one that eliminates private reasons. Such a theory retains the promising aspects of Korsgaard’s constructivism and introduces a new, consistent, and plausible neo-Kantian constructivist theory that is a more attractive alternative to realism, subjectivism, and Korsgaard’s constructivism. I largely agree with Korsgaard’s account of the source of reasons (which pertains to the Constructivism Thesis) but disagree in substantial ways with her explanation of the nature of reasons.

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I argue in the next chapter that Korsgaard’s theory is committed to the Strong Publicity Thesis and hence it is also committed to the Universality Thesis. Korsgaard’s account of the source of reasons depends upon the rational approval of our desires. She says, “When a desire presents itself to us, we decide whether or not to treat it as a reason.” If we rationally endorse the desire, then it is a reason for us. If we reject the desire, then it is obligatory that we refrain from acting on that desire. Her theory of the source of reasons is thus constructivist since it begins with something (a desire) that is not a reason and has no normative force, which is then transformed into a reason.1 The transformative process uses rational reflection to create imperative force from something which was formerly merely descriptive. Korsgaard’s account of the nature of reasons arises primarily from her claim that reasons are public and her explanation of how they are public. On her view, all reasons are public and have normative force, capable of binding anyone and everyone. Regarding the cessation of torturing someone, she explains that “If the deontological reason were agent-relative [private], merely my property, my victim would not have the right to demand that I act on it.”2 Furthermore, reasons are not public in a realist way, but they are public in Korsgaard’s constructivist way; reasons are created by people and are public because they are shareable. That they are shareable can be seen by the way they can be expressed and understood through language. Once we understand someone’s reason, we have no choice but to accept the reason as normative for ourselves, as well. Korsgaard says, “Why shouldn’t language force us to reason practically together, in just the same way that it forces us to think together?”3 And, “By making you think these thoughts, I force you to acknowledge the value of my humanity, and I obligate you to act in a way that respects it.”4 Language transfers its normativity to reasons through our ability to communicate via language. Reasons bind us when we understand them. Due to the nature of reasons, when we see that others have reasons, their reasons give us complimentary reasons to respect and help them. These two components of her account (the source of reasons and the nature of reasons) are the main tenants of her theory and they are what distinguish 1 Desires do not have normative force, although they do have motivational force (which is easily confused with normative force). The difference between the two is that motivational force compels regardless of the goodness of doing the action, whereas normative force always implies that a person ought to do something because it is compelled by rationality or morality. 2 Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 297. 3 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 142. 4 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 143 (emphasis in the original).

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her theory from the traditional theories of ethics. Instead of reasons being objectively-valid (or normatively binding on everyone) and mind-independent as in realism, or subjective and mind-dependent as in subjectivism, reasons are objectively-valid and mind-dependent because they are created by our minds but have genuine standing for all individuals.5 Korsgaard explains that in her theory, “The normative demands of meaning and reason are not demands that are made on us by objects, but are demands that we make on ourselves and each other.”6 Korsgaard’s resultant version of constructivism is Publicity as Shareability. I call these two components that form the basis of her account the Constructivism Thesis and the Strong Publicity Thesis: Constructivism Thesis (CT): All reasons are constructed from the psychology and mental states of individuals. Moral values are not found; they are created. Values would, therefore, be different if people’s psychologies were different. Publicity Thesis Strong (PTS): All reasons are inherently public; i.e., all reasons have normative force capable of obligating all of humanity, regardless of people’s personal interests. If one accepts that there is a wedge between the understanding of a reason and the normative force that a reason has, as I argued in Part 1, then a weaker version of the Publicity Thesis emerges as a possibility. Either all reasons are public, or a subset of reasons are public (where the remainder are private). Publicity Thesis Weak (PTW): Some reasons are inherently public; i.e., reasons have normative force capable of obligating all of humanity, regardless of people’s personal interests. That morality necessarily involves public reasons requires that moral reasons are public. It does not in itself entail that all reasons are public, for there may be some reasons that are not moral. Therefore, constructivism itself leaves open which version of the Publicity Thesis is correct. I henceforth use the original Publicity Thesis (pre-bifurcation) to accommodate this conclusion. 5 A reason need not be objective in Nagel’s sense of being public, in virtue of its factual reality in order for it to be ‘objectively-valid.’ A reason is objectively-valid if everyone can or should possess the reason. So, Korsgaard’s moral reasons are clear instances of objectively-valid reasons whose source is not in some fact of the world, but rather whose source depends on us. 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 138.

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Publicity Thesis (PT): All moral reasons are inherently public; i.e., all moral reasons have normative force capable of obligating all of humanity, regardless of people’s personal interests. Whereas the Constructivism Thesis regards the source of reasons and the Publicity Thesis regards the nature of reasons, whether the publicity of reasons entails that all reasons have universal scope I call ‘the Universality Thesis’: The Universality Thesis (UT): The scope of reasons is universal. More precisely, every reason has normative force for all people.7 PTS implies UT and PTW neither implies nor excludes it. Whether one accepts or rejects the Universality Thesis has important practical and theoretical ramifications. Practically, the acceptance of UT will bear on how many reasons we have and whether we are ever justified in not taking on another person’s reason. Theoretically, the acceptance of it will inform the course of one’s endorsement or rejection of the overall theory of Publicity as Shareability as a tenable theory. The salient features of reasons and the correspondent theses with which we have been concerned regard: 1. Publicity (the nature of reasons), 2. Constructivism (the source of reasons), and 3. Universality (the scope of reasons). These range from more to less general, in this order, where there are more specific theories to be considered among the general categories. The Publicity Thesis is the most general thesis, as it claims that reasons are essentially public rather than private, thus divorcing arguments about morality (which require publicity) from arguments simply about prudence (which result in moral-like behavior). Korsgaard sees her third category of reason, the intersubjective or constructed reason, as a sub-division of those reasons that are public. The Constructivism Thesis deals specifically with this division. The reason it seems natural for her and her readers to call her form of publicity a third, new kind is because constructed reasons have a different 7 This does not necessarily mean all reasons have equal force for all individuals or that they are equally applicable to all individuals. Regarding the first, I am inclined to believe that if all reasons are constructively public and universal, then they probably do not have equal force. This is because, according to the constructively public view we have been considering, normativity is created by the endorsement of desires and identities, and these desires and identities may (and most likely do) have different relevance for different people. However, it is clear that all reasons have different levels of applicability or relevance for different people, depending at least on a person’s capabilities to entertain and successfully act on certain reasons.

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source that affects their nature. Most of Korsgaard’s arguments fail to distinguish between what would be a justification to believe that reasons are public by nature and what would be separate evidence for the view that these public reasons are constructed rather than objective. For example, in the Wittgensteinian argument that she utilizes to persuade people of her view, she claims that understanding entails shareability and that shareability requires a criterion of intersubjective agreement. However, in Chapter 3, I argued specifically against the claim that the criterion necessarily be intersubjective agreement because Wittgenstein’s argument, whatever the original intent of it, if it succeeds, only entails that there be some criterion or another. An objective criterion independent of people and their agreements will suit this task just as well as intersubjective agreement.8 The point is that the form her argument takes gives the false appearance of the interdependence of the Publicity and Constructivism Theses. Similarly, in the Deductive Strategy that I made on her behalf in Chapter 4, I constructed an argument for her theory from the publicity of linguistic consciousness. In this argument, the Publicity, Constructivism, and Universality Theses appear to rely upon each other. For her, the fact that people communicate and share meanings and reasons is evidence not only that meanings and reasons are shared but that they are created by the process of sharing. 2

Theoretical Possibilities

These three theses: CT, PT (both PTS and PTW), and UT, can be used to describe the theoretical possibilities regarding the source, nature, and scope of reasons. When considering the consistent theoretical possibilities that spring from the acceptance or denial of each of the three theses under consideration, eight possibilities naturally arise. In the following, I abbreviate each of the theses as noted earlier: ‘PT’ for ‘Publicity Thesis,’ ‘PTS’ for ‘Publicity Thesis Strong,’ ‘PTW ’ for ‘Publicity Thesis Weak,’ ‘CT’ for ‘Constructivism Thesis,’ and ‘UT’ for ‘Universality Thesis.’ Since some theories do not depend on a specific interpretation of the Publicity Thesis, I use ‘PT’ for the more general case of acceptance 8 Korsgaard endorses both intrapersonal and interpersonal agreement, but while discussing Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument and the publicity of linguistic consciousness, she relies heavily on interpersonal sharing of reasons. In “The Reasons We Can Share,” she calls her view ‘Intersubjectivism,’ instead of ‘Publicity as Shareability.’ This lack of clarity and precision is just what we should expect from a theorist forging new ground in a field. In this chapter, I clarify much of the remaining issues in Korsgaard’s theory.

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or rejection of PT (which are usually those theories that reject all forms of publicity for reasons). Possibilities 1. Acceptance of PTS, CT, and UT. (Strong Constructivism – Korsgaard on a universal interpretation.) 2. Acceptance of PTW and CT; denial of UT. (Weak Constructivism – Enlightenism.) 3. Acceptance of PTS and UT; denial of CT. (Strong Realism  – Thomas Nagel in The Possibility of Altruism.) 4. Acceptance of PTW; denial of CT and UT. (Weak Realism – Nagel in The View From Nowhere.) 5. Denial of PT and UT; acceptance of CT. (Subjectivist Constructivism – A popular category shared by both neo-Kantians and neo-Humeans; Some Idealized Agent Subjectivist views such as those by Richard Hare, David Gauthier, (and noncommittal John Rawls); Korsgaard argues against a version of this.)9 6. Denial of PT and CT; acceptance of UT. (Universal Subjectivism – A consistent but implausible theory.) 7. Denial of PT, CT, and UT. (Subjectivism – David Hume’s theory.) 8. Mixed Theories. (Various – Nagel in “The Fragmentation of Value.”) Theories (1) strong constructivism and (2) weak constructivism represent constructivist positions, where (1) is Korsgaard’s theory and (2) is the theory I develop in the remainder of this book. Type (5) is an effort at constructivism that is better categorized as sub­ jectivist. I give it the name ‘subjectivist constructivism.’ Among these types of theories are neo-Kantian attempts to construct morality from private reasons. Korsgaard argues that they fail to offer a genuinely third kind of reason since moral reasons must be inherently public and cannot be constructed from essentially private reasons. I presented her argument for this in Chapter 2. If Korsgaard’s argument is correct (as I believe it is) then these neo-Kantian theories are just versions of subjectivism. Some idealized agent subjectivist accounts also fit within this category and are often seen as more morally acceptable versions of subjectivism. Under these theories, idealized agents (usually with either perfect or better information and/or experience than the actual agents) will have reasons of which they are unaware. On these views, people would endorse certain actions if they had 9 David Sobel, “Subjectivism and Idealization,” Ethics 119, January 2009: 336–352.

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more idealized information or experience. Some idealized agent views are realist (and hence will not fit in this category) because the idealized agent emerges within the normative portion of the theory, such as on many utilitarian views. On these theories, there are real values, and the metaethical theory is realist. Pleasure may be intrinsically good, for example, even though what is pleasurable is dependent upon the individual who experiences it. On these views, an idealized agent may help to moderate the effects of actual agents who prefer things that are not as conductive to their actual well-being as what they could or should prefer under some idealized conditions. Other philosophers who utilize idealized agents are noncommittal regarding the metaethical status of values, such as John Rawls (as discussed in Chapter 1). As I explain later, my view (Enlightenism) relies on the counterfactual endorsement of an agent to transform mere desires into reasons (or others’ reasons into reasons for oneself). My theory, however, does not espouse an idealized agent even though it relies on counterfactuals and ideal endorsement. There are a multitude of reasons why this is so. First, on my account some reasons really are public, shared by everyone and universal. Second, on my view the agent is not any different than what she is currently and actually. I use Korsgaard’s account of the source of reasons wherein reasons issue from one’s practical identities. Therefore, any change in people’s identities to more informed or experienced versions of themselves would be an illegitimate step away from the creation of a reason on my account. And finally, on my view, the counterfactual (i.e., more idealized) circumstances for generating reasons are in the time and quality of the agent’s reflection. Enlightenism, therefore, does not idealize or change the actual agent, but rather only imagines that the agent reflects sufficiently on her actual non-idealized self. Types (3) strong realism and (4) weak realism are realist positions. Types (5), (6), and (7) are subjectivist positions. In the primary distinction between realist and subjectivist theories, there are the public/objective/agent-neutral reasons on one hand and private/subjective/agent-relative reasons on the other. The traditional types of reasons – those that are public and objective (the realist account) and those that are private and subjective (the subjectivist account) – are related to the Universality Thesis in distinctly different ways. Whereas most realist positions have been thought to entail the Universality Thesis, subjectivist positions have been thought to reject it. I explore the reasons for this and then explain where constructivist theories might be thought to stand in relation to the Universality Thesis. Strong realism (3) claims that all reasons are both public and universal. Utilitarianism is a normative theory that may embrace this metaethical view since on it, all people aim towards the highest good, which is overall happiness, regardless of whether it is embodied in oneself or others.

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Weak realism (4) is a theory on which some reasons are public, and some are not. These theories claim that there are moral reasons as well as reasons that issue from a person’s individual goals and desires. Certain deontological theories like versions of Kantianism may fall under this category. On these theories some reasons are objective, and others are subjective. Of the subjectivist positions, type (7) subjectivism is the most subjectivist version of all of these theoretical possibilities and is exemplified by David Hume. Type (5) is reviewed above as a constructivist attempt which lapses into subjectivism. Universal subjectivism (6) is a theoretical possibility but, as far as I know, no such theories exist. The motivation for accepting subjectivism springs partially from the recognition that people have desires and reasons that differ from each other, so it is unattractive to subjectivists. Theories that fall under type (8), mixed theories, arise out of combinations of the first seven theories. They are relevant to those who argue that there are various kinds and sources of reasons. For example, one might hold that some reasons are public, and others are private; and of those, some are constructed, and some are not. One such example of a mixed position is Nagel’s position in “The Fragmentation of Value,” where he broadens his theory to include reasons that issue from multiple perspectives.10 According to Nagel in this essay, some reasons are public and real (such as standard moral reasons), some are private and real (which he calls ‘deontological reasons’), and some are private and subjective (which are named ‘reasons of autonomy’). Although my view espouses different kinds of reasons (public and private), it maintains that all reasons have the same source. Therefore, my view is more properly categorized as weak constructivism rather than mixed. However, my view does not preclude others from having a mixed view. As such, it is fully compatible with a mixed view theory. 3

Public/Objective Reasons in Realism and UT

Public reasons are traditionally interpreted as objective and universallybinding, wherein a universally-binding reason is understood as one that has normative force for all rational agents. When someone has a genuine reason, it has universally-binding force that produces complimentary reasons for everyone else to help the person who has the reason. This holds as long as certain basic conditions are met, such as having rational agency and the being able to understand and entertain reasons. People who are unable to reason and reflect 10

Thomas Nagel, “The Fragmentation of Value,” Mortal Questions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.

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obviously lack the appropriate capacities to receive a reason or obligation. However, these cases may be more or less contentious depending on how incapacitated a person is. A person in a coma or with serious developmental delays seems to lack the ability to have and act on reasons almost entirely. Children and those under the influence of an addiction and are not as clear-cut. Each ethical theory that contains public reasons (both realist and constructivist) must grapple with these issues. Even when reasons and obligations are real, objective, and universal, certain cases may be challenging to explain. Other circumstances that can affect whether people have reasons or not include whether people are physically and mentally capable of performing actions that certain reasons require. For example, currently on the border of the United States and Mexico, families who are suspected of entering the U.S. illegally are being held in prison-like detainment centers, sometimes for months, as they await decisions as to whether they will be deported or not. Attorneys and reporters who have visited reported that detainees have been hot, hungry, sick, and dirty. They have been deprived of necessities for basic human survival. At least four deaths have been reported and many are ill. Under a public reading of such reasons, the needs of the families who are detained give everyone else moral reasons to help the families held at the centers. The reasons of particular individuals, however, depend upon their specific situations. Those in prison or in hospitals cannot help; they are incapacitated and are either physically or mentally limited (or both). It seems unreasonable to expect them to act, given their situations. There are two interpretations of whether people in such circumstances have reasons to help, even though they are unable to do so. On one hand, an ethical theory may state that those people who are physically and mentally incapable lack reasons to help until they are capable of understanding, entertaining, and acting on the reasons under question. Thomas Nagel, however, argued that even those without a capacity to help have obligations to do so. If one takes this latter interpretation, all people have an obligation to help even though they may be unable to discharge the obligation due to certain incapacities. If they become capable of helping, then their obligation, which stems from their relationship to an objective value or state of affairs, will require them to weigh it with their other reasons and act accordingly. It is also important to note that people can have reasons of which they are unaware. People might be blameless for failing to act upon legitimate reasons, because of ignorance or other certain reasonable circumstances. Many people were unaware of the conditions of the border detainment centers when they first began, for example. Reporters and attorneys fulfilled their duties when they described the atrocities they witnessed. They, and certain judges who

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ruled on the unlawful conditions, helped to inform the public. Once the public has that kind of awareness, they are obligated to act to alleviate suffering in the capacities they have to do so.11 Keep in mind, if people know they have a reason and have the capacity to help but still fail to act on the reason, it may still be argued that they are morally excused if their lack of action is due to a practical conflict in their lives and a need to prioritize one thing (e.g., providing for their families) over the reason to help. This interpretation acknowledges that they have a reason to help. However, they have another reason that overrides acting on the reason to help. There are, therefore, two reasons to consider. Having an overriding reason does not negate the normative force that the reason to help has. I have a reason to pick up garbage when I see it littered in the road, but if the road is dangerous, I do not want to risk going out in traffic. My reason to stay safe overrides my reason to pick up litter. However, if I see a dog in the middle of the road while I am driving, I quickly stop, even if it causes the cars behind me screech to a halt or results in a minor fender bender. The stakes are higher with the life of a dog on the line rather than the lifeless litter (which, hopefully, will get picked up by a street sweeper). Therefore, it is necessary to risk more. Some people may think the risk I take for a dog is too high. Then imagine it is two-year old child. Not just any reason will override any other; it must legitimately outweigh the other reason. The specific reasons that outweigh others are up for debate depending on the ethical theory under consideration and one’s principles. Regardless of which reasons override other reasons, the structure of the solution is the same. I discuss the prioritization of some reasons over others extensively in Part 3 with regard to constructivism. Finally, people can have a reason to help, know they have one, have the capacity to act on it, and fail to have a legitimate reason that outweighs their reason to help. To not help in this circumstance constitutes shirking their obligation. Not helping would be immoral (and probably inexcusably so). That all objective reasons have the feature of also being universally-binding is analytic. The concept of an objective reason just is a reason that does not depend upon the mental states of individuals; it is a public reason as seen in the traditional (non-constructivist) sense. Objective reasons are public because they are independent from anyone’s desires and so exercise a normative hold on individuals regardless of their personal interests. They provide reasons to people because there is something good about performing the action towards 11

The general public was able to protest but was unable to provide direct relief, as that is the jurisdiction of the U.S. government. As I write today, a bipartisan bill by Congress and the Senate has been passed to improve border conditions.

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which the reason aims. Therefore, an objective reason to charitably interpret the assertions and arguments of others is not a reason because one or more people desire that it is done; it is a reason just because it is good to do so. On a deontological account of ethics (a rule-based theory), goodness is something that is intrinsic to certain actions. Under divine command theory, for instance, common rules from the divine indicate, for example, that it is intrinsically good to be kind and intrinsically bad to murder. Under Kantian deontology (interpreted in a realist way), goodness is intrinsic to actions that issue from the Good Will. Rational individuals are motivated to act consistently, obey the dictates of reason, and do so with respect to all rational individuals. On a realist account, an objective reason to refrain from molesting small children exists independently of anyone actually minding that small children are molested, and it depends only on a fact of the matter about whether it is a good, bad, or neutral thing to do. If there is an objective reason not to molest small children, then even if no one ever minded that they were molested, there would still be a reason to refrain from molesting them; it would just be a reason that no one cared about. If it is a good thing to molest small children, then we have a reason to do so; if it is a bad thing, then we have a reason to refrain; and if it is a neutral thing to do, then we neither have nor lack an objective reason for molesting small children. An objective reason will tell an agent to both acknowledge and act on it regardless of whether the agent desires the means or the end.12 It may be said that in the case of objective reasons that agents should desire the end and desire to take the means to that end (if they want to be good). This is often considered to be a rule of constituency of reasons. Since the means are necessary to get to the end, then if the end is truly good in itself, and one knows that the end is good, then the means are also good (if only non-intrinsically or circumstantially so). Taking this view, it is a good end to alleviate the suffering of those in the detainment camps on the border, so the means to take that end (eliminating the camps altogether or furnishing those in need a better environment with secure access to nutritious, plentiful food, as well as adequate health care) are things that are good, as well. We should desire and act to accomplish the end and the means if we aim to do good. On a realist account, however, even if people do not desire to help, they still have a reason to do so. A mother may, in a fit of temporary rage against her child, desire to hit the child. Nevertheless, 12

This does not prohibit a person from failing to act on any particular objective reason because of practical inabilities to do so, including conflicting reasons that cannot be realized at the same time, as Korsgaard emphasizes.

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she refrains because it is “the right thing to do.” In an ideal world, we would only desire to do good (or morally neutral) actions, but in cases where our desires do not match up with our reasons to obey objective moral principles, the moral principles are the ones we should follow. Since the force of objective reasons are (on a realist account), by definition, independent of the mental states of people, then if they exist, their normative strength cannot come from mental states but must issue from the goodness of the actions themselves. The goodness that is embodied in the actions is a law to everyone regardless of whether individuals desire to perform the action. The value exists in the world and is only dependent on the relations of objects in the world and the normative laws between those objects. In summary, objective reasons entail UT because such reasons inherit their force from the goodness of their aims. If I have a reason to provide shelter to those needing hurricane disaster relief, and if that reason is an objective reason, then it is the case that it is a good thing to provide shelter for those people. If it is a good thing to provide shelter for them, then it is a good thing for both you and I to do so. It is also a good thing for both of us to help others who are providing shelter if we can. So, objective reasons are reasons for everyone to both do the action and to help others to do the action prescribed, just because the action is a good thing to do. UT is fulfilled because the reason does, in fact, have normative force for all rational individuals. UT thus follows directly from the concept of an objective reason. 4

Private/Subjective Reasons and UT

Subjective reasons, as opposed to objective reasons, are not necessarily universal. By necessary, I mean conceptually necessary. Subjective reasons lack the feature of being necessarily universally-binding because they do, by definition, depend on the mental states of individuals. Unlike objective reasons, the normativity of subjective reasons springs directly from the desires that individuals have for particular objects and activities. People can have different desires, and this means that individuals can have different reasons. For example, if being a good artist is a personal ambition of mine, then I have a reason to become a good artist and to do those things that will enable me to achieve that end. The normative force of that reason for me does not automatically transfer to you just in virtue of my having the reason if it is a subjective reason. This is because in order for you to have a reason to become a good artist yourself, you must desire it. And in order for you to have a reason to help me to achieve my

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ambition, you must want to help me. If you lack these desires, then you simply fail to have any reasons to be an artist or to help me to become an artist. UT, therefore, is not implied by the concept of a subjective reason. Subjectivists tout the lack of necessarily universal reasons on their account as an advantage of their theory. Most people agree that you do not have a reason to help me with everything that I have a reason to do. I have a reason to do my laundry and you are not required to help me because that is my business. You have a reason to go to your child’s baseball game, but that is not a part of my life. We care about different things. Sometimes our desires and reasons will conflict. We have different political views, and we have no reason to help each other promote the opposition’s candidate. These are intuitive cases where UT does not appear to hold. Disagreements, according to the subjectivist, provide evidence that values are subjective and dependent on people’s own particular circumstances and psychologies. People have differing reasons based on their diverse interests and preferences. And it seems like disagreements can be found or manufactured for almost everything. The subjectivist argues that all values, reasons, and obligations are dependent upon the psychology of individuals. The range of moral perspectives in the world is a particularly interesting point of disagreement. If we accept that moral views themselves depend on a person’s culture, family, or personal views, then relativism or subjectivism is a natural conclusion. Although no subjectivist views with which I am acquainted endorse UT, it is possible for subjective reasons to be contingently universal. For instance, Hume held a view according to which nearly all people, and certainly all ‘normal’ people, do have at least the same moral reasons.13 They all have the same moral reasons, however, merely because humans are similar psychologically, and normalcy for humans is defined in terms of this very regularity. If humans at any point became psychologically different enough to warrant a

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Strictly speaking, Hume would not have called them reasons in any normatively-loaded way since his view of motivation and action was a mechanistically causal one in which should does not exist. Humans just act in certain ways and develop certain virtues. (Korsgaard’s second lecture in Sources on Hume was of great benefit to me in piecing together Hume’s variously categorized ethical view.) Though the word ‘normal’ is debatably vacant in intrinsic meaning since the definition of it depends on the current set under consideration, it is the right word under this view. This means that under Hume’s view, if and when the array of desires within a society changes, what is normal changes, and with it, what is useful and therefore virtuous do, as well.

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disposal of the claim featuring all ‘normal’ humans, then this almost universality would disappear from the view. 5

Weak Realism and Mixed Theories

Both weak realism and some mixed theories combine elements of realism and subjectivism. According to weak realism, some reasons are subjective (like those depending on personal desires and ambitions) and some are objective (like the reasons of morality). This view requires an explanation for why certain reasons belong in each category and why there is a division between them. Thomas Nagel, for example, claims that different kinds of reasons emerge from occupying different points of view. When we occupy our own point of view, we have reasons that depend on our own particular actions and our own desires. We are also capable of taking the view of others, the earth’s well-being, and goodness abstracted away from particularities. Our capacity to imagine ourselves from these various standpoints enables us to see that varying kinds of reasons exist (which are not visible until we entertain each view). Nagel’s view is enticing, but he still has problems with which he needs to contend. First, many of these reasons will conflict with each other. How do we know which point of view and which reason to take in any circumstance? Second, what makes it the case that taking a point of view instills normativity into those things associated with the view? Just because I can take the view of a serial killer or of a drug lord, does not imply that I have reasons to benefit them and their goals. What inhibits me from that are the reasons that I have that issue from morality, one might argue. Those reasons, if they legitimately constrict the others, are arguably the dominant ones and the ones that are truly objective and universally-binding. But that way of resolving conflicts between the reasons would amount to endorsing realism. Certain deontological views, like divine command theory and the realist interpretation of Kant’s Categorical Imperative, seem to embrace both realist and subjectivist reasons. On these accounts, the moral rules we must obey are objective and universal. Offending a moral principle is impermissible. However, as long as we obey the moral rules, everything else is permissible. Murder is wrong, stealing is wrong, and lying is wrong, we might say. Other than acting on those, you can go about your life however you would like to live it. You can donate money to your church, and I can donate money to UNICEF. Or, we may decide not to donate at all. However, most deontological views are not that simple. Most theistic views command people to be kind, generous, and prayerful. How much kindness is

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enough? How much generosity, and how much prayer? If we are all very kind and very generous, then we will not have much time or money to pursue our own projects, and it will be much more similar to a view on which all reasons are objective and universal. We will be required to donate instead of hoarding our wealth. When we see someone in need, we must help. Kant categorized reasons as ‘perfect’ or ‘imperfect’ duties. While perfect duties must be fulfilled at all times (do not murder), imperfect duties are left more to our discretion (like generosity). This does not solve the problem, however. It merely names it. 6

Constructed Reasons and UT

The constructivist alternatives espouse a more recently postulated class of reasons. As such, they are neither clearly universal nor non-universal because they share features with both private/subjective and public/objective reasons. On one hand, one might categorize them as on a par with subjective reasons on the issue of universality, since they are not existent apart from the mental states of individuals (and that is the variable that is salient in the arguments for universality or lack thereof). Alternatively, one might claim that it is not being dependent or independent of a mental state that does the real work, but the objective criterion – the process by which reasons come into being. Objective reasons are independent of mental states just because their value exists apart from those mental states which externally validate objective reasons. Likewise, constructed reasons have a criterion which must be met – rational approval – that externally validates them. It is possible that this criterion functions to make reasons universal. Korsgaard sometimes appears to support universality, and at other times she seems to leave the issue open. In the next chapter I focus closely on whether and to what extent constructivist reasons imply UT.

chapter 6

The Universality of Reasons in Constructivism Unlike the objectively public reasons of realism, which must have universal scope, and the subjectively private reasons of subjectivism, which are accepted primarily because of their usual lack of universal scope, constructed reasons are neither clearly universal nor non-universal. This is because constructivism has a dual nature: it offers an intermediate position between the two traditional theories of metaethics. Constructivism endeavors to maintain the positive attributes of both theories while abandoning their unattractive features. Though universality may be a beneficial feature of moral reasons, it is not an intuitive feature of all reasons. If all reasons are universal, then even reasons that stem from personal goals and interests would be universal. However, the most natural interpretation of such reasons (called ‘reasons of autonomy’) is that they are non-universal. On Thursday evenings, for example, I have an interest in playing tennis, while my husband has an interest in playing card games. We do not share our reasons to pursue each other’s hobbies. Rather, in this situation and many others, we say “to each their own.” Constructivism, in its current form, as explained by Christine Korsgaard, embraces only public reasons and is, thus, a version of what I named ‘strong constructivism’ in the last chapter. Strong constructivism rejects the intuition that reasons of autonomy are private and personal instead of public and universal since it embraces what I called the strong version of the Publicity Thesis (PTS), as well as the Universality Thesis (UT). In contrast with Korsgaard, I argue in the next chapter for what I call ‘weak constructivism,’ which rejects UT and instead accepts a weaker version of the Publicity Thesis (PTW). PTW permits some reasons which are private and non-universal. That constructivism embraces at least some public reasons differentiates it from subjectivism. Without reasons that have objective status, constructivism, like subjectivism, would suffer from being unable to explain moral obligation. The objectivity of constructivist reasons is not inherent in the reasons themselves. Rather, ‘objective status’ is a trait they acquire (and can similarly lose) through a process of reflection and endorsement. When constructively public reasons emerge from the reflective endorsement of individuals’ mental states, they are therefore more properly called ‘objectively-valid’ reasons (as distinguished from the purely ‘objective’ nature of reasons on the realist view.) Whether constructivism should embrace the Universality Thesis is the subject of this chapter. UT states: “The scope of reasons is universal. More precisely,

© Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_008

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every reason that exists has normative force for all people.” Korsgaard sometimes appears to support universality and sometimes appears to deny it. Since PTS requires acceptance of UT, to reject UT one must also reject PTS. In this chapter, I highlight both the benefits and drawbacks of strong constructivism. I argue that there are multiple reasons to reject UT (and therefore with it, PTS and strong constructivism). 1

Simple Requests

Imagine that someone requests for you to do something without giving you a reason why you should do it. Are you obligated to respond to the request simply in virtue of being the target of the request? I call a request of someone to do something without a direct reason or explanation given for doing the thing a ‘simple request.’ In a simple request, there is nothing within the content of the reason itself that rationally draws people towards receiving the obligation. Such requests are, therefore, prime candidates for lacking universality. If they lack universality, PTS should be rejected (and PTW endorsed). Korsgaard appears to attribute universality to simple requests (which is consistent with her claim that all reasons are public). There are several examples of the giving and taking of obligations via a simple request that are revealing. Among them is the familiar passage of the yellow spot that I analyzed in Chapter 4. She says, “If I say to you ‘Picture a yellow spot!’ you will … It is obligation.”1 Korsgaard’s simple request to picture a yellow spot, she asserts, transfers an obligation to you to do as she says. She observes that you will do it and cites your obedience as evidence that you take the request as having obligatory force.2 Overtly sparser than even a simple request, she also gives an example of calling someone’s name: If I call out your name, I make you stop in your tracks…. I am a law to you. By calling out your name, I have obligated you. I have given you a reason to stop. Of course that’s overstated: you don’t have to stop. You have reasons of your own, and you might decide, rightly or wrongly, that they outweigh the one I have given you. But that I have given you a reason is clear from the fact that, in ordinary circumstances, you will feel like 1 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 139. 2 Note that in this instance, obligation is stronger than what is necessary on her account; it is rather more reasonable to say that she gives you a reason in this example.

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giving me one back. ‘Sorry, I must run, I’m late for an appointment.’ We all know that reasons must be met with reasons and that is why we are always exchanging them.3 Calling out someone’s name implies that they want your attention. Once again, in this case Korsgaard notes that people stop and respond to the calling of their names, and she once again attributes this to a reason that has been given and an obligation that has been received. She says, “I am a law to you.” She further explains that even if she calls to you and you do not stop, “that I have given you a reason is clear….” The fact that someone does not respond to a reason that is given does not entail that a reason was not given. There remain other options. The recipient may have rightly decided that their own reasons outweigh the reasons that were given. Alternatively, the person being called may have wrongly decided to either ignore or reject acting on the reason given. Whether or not the person rightly or wrongly decided that other reasons of their own outweighed acting on the reason given, under Korsgaard’s description a genuine reason was given and successfully transferred by calling a name and having it heard. In all, there are four possibilities that describe a person’s type of response to being given a reason. Responses to Being Given a Reason 1. You should have done it and you (rightly) did do it. 2. You should have done it and you (wrongly) did not do it. 3. You should not have done it (because you rightly had a weightier reason to not do it) and you (wrongly) did it anyway. 4. You should not have done it (because of your weightier reason) and so you (rightly) did not do it. Korsgaard’ view is that simple requests legitimately obligate people to perform in accordance with the request. The implication is, therefore, that anything can be requested of anyone and that all reasons are universal on her constructivist account. I argued in Chapter 4 that the compulsive nature with which people respond in the ‘yellow spot’ and ‘calling your name’ examples fails to indicate the presence of having a reason or obligation. Rather, the traits and behaviors Korsgaard associates with an obligation are more representative of an unreflective and automatic habit. Reasons and obligations require reflection; automaticity and compulsivity are not traits of genuine reasons. Therefore, 3 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 140.

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Korsgaard’s explanations for why simple requests produce complementary reasons to respond are inadequate. I examined several cases of requests and argued in opposition to Korsgaard that it is best in some cases for the requestee not to respond. I offered an example of someone who is cat-called. That the best thing to do is to not respond does not entail in itself that there is no reason to respond, however, for there may be a reason to respond (e.g., “being courteous when someone calls for your attention”) and an overriding reason to not respond (e.g., “that this case is an instance that feels disrespectful, so one should not respond”). Therefore, simple requests are unconvincing examples of universal reasons, yet the failures of the examples themselves are insufficient to indicate that UT should be rejected. 2

Theoretical Reasons for Universality

Theoretically, Korsgaard’s version of neo-Kantian constructivism embraces UT because: 1. Furnishing reasons to reject others’ reasons is necessary for us to be unified rational agents at all and 2. Rejecting people’s reasons without having a reason to do so is immoral because it amounts to treating others’ humanity with disrespect. First, if refusing the normative grip of someone’s reason did not necessitate being met with another overriding reason, then you could refuse another’s reason without a justification. This is because the purpose of a reason is to justify something. Not having to meet reasons with reasons in any case implies that for any demand any person makes on you, you could disregard it without having to give any justification for your avoidance. It would mean that you would never have to do anything unless you wanted to do it. Furthermore, you would never have to explain why you did not have to do what people wanted you to do, nor need you ever articulate it to yourself. These three things are all inextricably linked (on a reason-based account of morality): 1. Having a reason to do something, 2. Having to justify to oneself the doing of that thing, and 3. Having to justify to others having done that thing. This is because reasons are practical – they tell us what to do and why we should do it, and they play a cause in our rational decision to do it. Because reasons provide a theoretical basis for our practical decisions, denying that reasons must be met with reasons leads to a line of thought that is entirely subjectivist in nature. Reasons are unnecessary altogether in this picture since the purpose of a reason is to provide rational justification for someone to do something and, thereby, normatively bind them to do what is rational, good, or right. But no one is bound by reasons in any real sense on a view that denies that reasons must be met

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with reasons, since anyone could discard the reason that is given to them and refuse to even take it into account. Everything that one should do is left up to how the agent feels like acting. If subjectivism is unappealing, then this functions as a preliminary argument that leads to the conclusion that reasons must be met with other reasons. We bind each other, and we bind ourselves with reasons; this capacity is what enables us to reason together. Korsgaard says, “We all know that reasons must be met with reasons and that is why we are always exchanging them.”4 She says, “We tend to cave in to the demands of others.”5 And, “Why shouldn’t language force us to reason practically together, in just the same way that it forces us to think together?”6 The ability to reason is what makes us agents at all. If we are not required to meet others’ reasons with reasons, then why ought we to be required to meet our own reasons with reasons? What obligates us to act in a way that we see as rational, or what obligates us to act on our reasons? What prohibits us from presenting reasons to ourselves and then refusing to take them into account for no reason? The problem is that we lack agency at all when we refuse to take our own reasons into account; when we do not act for reasons, we are what Korsgaard calls ‘wantons.’ Wantons pursue different laws all the time and have no principles to guide their actions. Wantons are not agents because acting for reasons is what unifies people and makes them rational animals. Korsgaard says, “[I]f you fail in all of your roles – if you live at random, without integrity or principle, then you will lose your grip on yourself as one who has any reason to live and to act at all.”7 And, “[I]f you do not allow yourself to be governed by any conception of your identity then you will have no reason to act and to live.”8 Failing to live as creatures governed by reason means that we fail to be creatures that have reasons at all, which means that we have “no reason to act and live.”9 Morally, refusing to take another person’s genuine reason into account means that you are ignoring the value of the other’s humanity. The value of the other person’s humanity and the value of your own humanity are expressed by using our rational nature to create reasons that govern our lives. Korsgaard says, “[W]e also express our respect for one another’s humanity by sharing in 4 5 6 7 8 9

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 140. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 141. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 142. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 121. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 123. See Korsgaard’s Locke Lectures given under the title of Self-Constitution: Agency, Identity, and Integrity (Oxford, 2002) for elaborations on these points.

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each other’s ends…. It is the status of humanity, as the source of normative claims, that is the source of all value.”10 Denying the value of a person’s reasons is thus the same as denying the person’s value, since people’s values are used to create reasons. According to Korsgaard, ignoring a person’s reasons involves, or is equivalent to, ignoring the person’s humanity. She says, “The Intersubjectivist sees the other as human, and therefore shares or tries to share the other’s ends.”11 If we do not treat our humanity as a normative identity, none of our other identities can be normative, and then we can have no reasons to act at all. A central tenet of all Kantian theories (including Korsgaard’s) is that one must respect the value of humanity, whether in oneself or in others. Ignoring another person’s humanity is immoral. Korsgaard explains the contrast between her view (which she here calls ‘Intersubjectivism’) and the view of the objective realist, criticizing the realist as failing to take into account the other person’s humanity. Instead of acting on the reasons of others because the people who give them are valuable, the realist acts on reasons because the objects of the reasons are good in themselves. She says: The Intersubjectivist sees the other as human, and therefore shares or tries to share the other’s ends. That is why she helps others to pursue their ambitions. But the Objective Realist sees no reason to help unless he first sees the other’s ends as one that he can share. His relationship to others is mediated by his relationship to their ends. According to the Intersubjectivist this is not only a mistake in moral theory but a moral wrong. We should promote the ends of others not because we recognize the value of those ends, but rather out of respect for the humanity of those who have them.12 This disagreement between Korsgaard and the realist is one that she takes to be fundamental, since doing as the realist does and failing to take into account others’ reasons constitutes “a moral wrong.” In Sources, Korsgaard speaks of ignoring another’s humanity when she introduces what it means for a person to be evil. She says:

10 11 12

Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 299. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 290. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 290.

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If an agent consciously and reflectively decided to treat his desires as reasons merely because they were his own desires, either ignoring the claims of morality altogether or deliberately subordinating morality’s claims to the claims of his own self-interest, then he would be evil.13 On her view, both ignoring someone else’s reasons and treating them as inferior to one’s own are evil. Discarding the value of someone else’s humanity by ignoring their reasons altogether is not only immoral, but the worst kind of offense, since it does not even acknowledge the other person as a person. Instead, it reduces the person’s humanity to the status of an object who has no power to create reasons. A person’s humanity, as expressed by creating reasons, is the primary value-bearer since it is what enables all other values to exist. Other immoral acts such as killing, stealing, and lying reduce the value of the other person in comparison with oneself, saying in essence, “you are not as worthwhile as I am; my reasons are more important than yours,” but they do not refuse the other person’s humanity entirely in the same way that not taking another person’s reasons into account does. In previous chapters I explained how Korsgaard’s account of the normativity of meanings and reasons are linked, since the communication of reasons takes place through a public language. On the account, the words and rea­ sons which are given and taken via communication obligate others to understand the meanings of the words and acknowledge the imperative force of the reasons given. This is due to the public nature of meanings and reasons. When I ask you to do something for me, you recognize that I am human and that you must act in a way that respects my humanity. You know that I have communicated a reason to you because you can imagine what it would be like to be in my place and you know that it would be disrespectful of your humanity if I were to ignore you. Because you are rational and you know that it does not make sense for you to value your humanity but not mine, you know that it would be wrong for you to do that same thing that you protest in your own case to me. This is what Korsgaard means when she says “that obligation would spring from your own objection to what he does to you.” For every reason that I have, you have a complimentary reason to respond to my reason and, likewise, for every reason that you have I have a complementary reason to respond to it. It is, therefore, central on her account of constructivism that all reasons are both public and universal. 13

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 249.

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Conflicting Reasons

Although it is most consistent to interpret Korsgaard’s constructivism as endorsing UT, there are several passages in which she appears open to reasons that are less-than-universal in scope. When explaining how moral obligation differs from non-moral obligation, Korsgaard picks out universality as a distinguishing feature of moral obligation. She says, “What makes actual moral obligation different from other kinds is supposed to be its applicability to everyone and its rational inescapability.”14 If one of the differences between non-moral and moral obligation is moral obligation’s universal scope, then non-moral obligation must not have universal scope. Therefore, as long as non-moral obligation exists, there are obligations that are nonuniversal. Although this passage may provide a possible demarcation for non-universal reasons, in it Korsgaard explains what she thinks others commonly believe of moral obligation. It is, therefore, insufficient evidence for her approval of non-universal reasons. Alternatively, one might interpret this passage as indicating how all individuals in fact have universal moral reasons which spring from their own necessary identity as members of humanity. Other reasons depend on people’s particular (and differing) practical identities as parents or not, citizens of this or that nation, members of this or that group, and so on. On this interpretation of her account, these incidental reasons are public and are universal in principle but not in practice, since they are transferred to others via communication through the publicity of linguistic consciousness. This interpretation resolves the seeming inconsistency in her view of the universal scope of reasons. In “The Reasons We Can Share,” she explicitly claims that her theory does not necessarily imply the universality of reasons. Here, she calls her theory ‘Intersubjectivism’ (later baptizing it ‘Publicity as Shareability’ in Sources). She says: [I]f the status of values is essentially intersubjective, then the question arises why we should suppose that a value must be shared by everyone – why Intersubjectivism must be universal. If values arise from human relations, then there are surely more possibilities. The claims springing from an acknowledgement of our common humanity are one source of value, but the claims springing from friendships, marriages, local communities, and common interests may be others.15 14 15

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 256. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 282.

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Her account, she claims, leaves room for the possibility of less-than-universal reasons. Values arise from our acknowledgements of our relationships. The relationship that we have to humanity at large is “one source of value,” the necessary value that all agents must consider, but there are other relationships that we can and do have with others. These relationships are separate sources of value since value arises from our reflective endorsement of our practical identities, which include, but are not limited to, the identity of being a human. Therefore, she sometimes appears to leave it open that there are nonuniversal reasons. However, note her use of weak and qualified statements. She says only that we should question the assumption that “Intersubjectivism must be universal.” Of the sources of reasons, there “may be others” than that of humanity.16 Her care in stating the merely possible denial of UT may indicate that she is unsure if neo-Kantian constructivism must endorse UT. In the passage from “The Reasons We Can Share,” Korsgaard had not yet argued for the parallel between meanings and reasons (or for what I call ‘the Forced Normativity Premises of Meanings and Reasons,’ which I discuss in Chapters 3 and 4). Recall her statement that since linguistic consciousnesses is public that “By making you think these thoughts, I force you to acknowledge the value of my humanity, and I obligate you to act in a way that respects it.” It is fair to say that in Sources, she describes yet another source of reasons: other people and their requests. For example, she makes mention of what she calls a ‘Kingdom of Two,’ a locution that calls to mind limited obligations.17 “A personal relationship,” she says, “is a Kingdom of Two – two who are committed to being in a special degree ends for one another.”18 She says of these smallerthan-humanity relationships: [E]ven those who do acknowledge their obligations to humanity at large will see their obligations to particular others as having independent force. Thus personal relationships are not completely subsumed under morality, but they are not affectional ties of a wholly different kind either. Personal relationships, then, as a form of practical identity, are independent sources of obligation, like moral obligations in their structure but 16 17

18

Both are from Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 282 (emphasis added in both). It must be noted that in Sources she does not explain these obligations or reasons as having a limited scope, but as having what she calls a limited “depth.” How one ought to interpret this is open to debate since it may or may not mean the same thing as an obligation that has limited scope. An obligation might have limited depth while retaining universal scope if the depth of the obligation is how much force it has on an individual. I will explain this interpretation in more detail later. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 127.

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not completely subsumed under them. And the thought of oneself as a certain person’s friend or lover or parent or child can be a particularly deep form of practical identity. There is no obvious reason why your relationship to humanity at large should always matter more to you than your relationship to some particular person.”19 That personal relationships can be independent sources of obligation may strengthen the force of those particular obligations. Imagine that a stranger requests for you to spend time chatting in a coffee place about politics, yet you have a friend coming to meet you in a moment. You have two independent reasons to stop chatting with the stranger. First, you are morally obligated to fulfill your word to meet with your friend. Second, your friend is someone close to you and that relationship usually takes precedence over others when there is a conflict. Korsgaard explains that these reasons are similar to but not entirely “subsumed under” moral reasons. Furthermore, she claims that these smaller-than-humanity reasons could very well trump our reasons of morality if they come into conflict. This means that they have not only some force, but an incredible amount of independent force; enough to justify either not acting morally or perhaps even acting immorally at times for the sake of important others. Imagine a slightly different version of the situation above. You did not plan to meet your friend. Instead, the stranger asks you to chat for the next hour, and you acquiesce because there is no reason why you should not. You are, therefore, obligated under Korsgaard’s account to talk politics with the stranger at coffee. However, your friend soon shows up unexpectedly and wants to catch up with you about her life. Well now you have a competing obligation, and this obligation to engage with your friend is stronger than both the reason to talk with the stranger and the moral reason you have to keep your word to chat with the stranger the next hour. This way of interpreting Korsgaard’s constructivist account does not undermine its commitment to universality, though the account’s understanding of moral commitment needs more attention as it may undermine both moral obligation and the prominence of the moral identity. I distinguish at least four sources of reasons that Korsgaard discusses. Four Sources of Reasons 1. The necessary moral identity. These reasons are necessarily universal. 2. Particular practical identities that each of us have, among which personal relationships appear to be a type (e.g., ‘the friend of so and so’, 19

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 128 (emphasis added).

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‘the daughter of so and so’). These reasons are non-necessary since we have different contingent practical identities created by coming into certain circumstances and choosing certain affiliations. These reasons are in-principle universal, since they may be transferred via communication of a request to anyone and will produce a complementary reason in those we call upon. 3. Desires that we reflect on and either endorse or fail to endorse. If we endorse a desire, it will become a reason, and if we fail to do so, it does not become a reason, unless another circumstance making it a reason is obtained. She says of desires that “When we experience a desire or impulse, we consider whether to treat it as a reason, whether to make it our maxim to act on it. We may or may not, though in ordinary cases, we will, so long as there is no reason why not.”20 4. Other people’s requests of us. Other people can communicate their reasons to us. Their reasons, therefore, become our reasons to help them. Korsgaard notes that we will usually have a reason to fulfill their request. She says that “the reasons of others have something like the same standing with us as our own desires and impulses do. We seem not to need a reason to take the reasons of others into account. We seem to need a reason not to.”21 If we decide not to act on a reason, whatever its source, it is because there is a “reason why not” or there is “a reason not to.” In other words, when we reject a reason in any case except the second source above, it is because there is a competing reason to not act on it that is stronger. As I explained, Korsgaard at different junctures appears to endorse and reject the Universality Thesis. In a consistent account, only one of these options is available. However, it is theoretically necessary that Publicity as Shareability embrace UT. Seeming instances where she discusses a possible denial of UT can be explained by the account of the four sources of reasons I give. When we reject the reasons that come from any practical identity (either moral or non-moral) or those that are communicated to us by others, we must reject the reason on the basis of another competing and stronger reason. The reasons that other individuals offer to us do not cease to become reasons. All

20 21

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 140. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 140–141. Earlier she states something quite similar: “[I]n the same way that we can obligate ourselves, we can be obligated by other people” (p. 92).

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reasons are universal but may be overridden on Korsgaard’s view; Korsgaard’s theory is therefore a version of strong constructivism. 4

A New Theory That Answers the Hard Questions

The primary questions that arise for constructivism are in the following list. The next four chapters tackle these substantial issues, wherein I develop a new theory, ‘Enlightenism,’ and argue that it is preferable to Korsgaard’s theory in the way it explains both the sources and the nature of reasons. The Hard Questions 1. Since reasons are created by endorsed desires, are all desires equal candidates for reason-hood, even those that are immoral or irrational? What criteria could establish a reasonable limit on endorsable reasons? I discuss this in Chapter 7 and propose a constructivist theory I call ‘Enlightenism.’ 2. Do we always need a competing reason to reject someone else’s reason? I maintain that we do not. In Chapters 8 and 9, I argue (contrary to Korsgaard) that a consistent constructivist theory can embrace both private and public reasons. I explain which reasons should be interpreted as private (special obligations and reasons of autonomy) and which should be interpreted as public (moral reasons and reasons of deontology). 3. How do we account for the varying strength of competing reasons? Constructivist theories that take all reasons as public (like Korsgaard’s) and those that claim that there are also private reasons (like mine), both need to account for the varying strength of reasons (and explain which reasons should win in cases of competing reasons). The constructivist theory is in a unique position among metaethical theories on this issue as it claims that reasons are objectively-valid and minddependent. So, there must be an objective way of deciding between two or more mind-dependent reasons vying for attention. I discuss various criterions for weighing the strength of reasons in Chapters 9 and 10. My new theory, Enlightenism, resolves issues that these questions evoke. Enlightenism rejects ‘thoroughgoing constructivism’ (which Korsgaard embraces) about all normativity since it leads to immoral reasons. On her account, immoral reasons are not primarily an intuitive problem but rather

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one that threatens the consistency of the constructivist project. On my view, there is no such thing as an immoral reason. Instead, my view embraces some minimal criteria for reason-hood that establishes a baseline for which desires can become reasons. Reasons are created by those desires that people would endorse after ideal reflection on their relevant identities. Ideal reflection requires the removal from consideration for reason-hood any desire that conflicts with people’s necessary identities (including their moral identity). Furthermore, though Enlightenism can be interpreted strongly or weakly, I argue for a version of weak constructivism that accepts CT and PTW and dismisses both PTS and UT.

chapter 7

Creating Legitimate Reasons and the Enlightenist Account The different possible versions of constructivism depend on an account of the origin of values, reasons, and obligations and on an understanding of the nature of those values, reasons, and obligations. This chapter focuses on the source of reasons. Thoroughgoing constructivism takes all normativity to be constructed (not just ethical normativity). On Korsgaard’s account, for example, all endorsed desires become legitimate reasons (even those that conflict with the moral identity). I argue against this and show that thoroughgoing constructivism lapses into subjectivism. While all ethical normativity is constructed, my account permits some intrinsically normative principles in another area, such as logic or rationality. On my account, people’s desires which they would endorse under ideal reflection on their relevant identities produce legitimate reasons. I call this view ‘Enlightenism’ because an enlightened understanding of oneself and one’s reasons is both a part of the process and a product of reflecting. As we create our reasons, we also create our identities and become the best versions of ourselves. On this standard, everyone would reflect on their moral identities and, therefore, everyone would only have reasons that are consistent with their moral identities. The normativity issues from the process of reflection itself, and thereby transfers itself to the reasons that people would endorse. Oftentimes, it is impractical to ideally reflect. So although reasons are generated by counterfactual endorsement (instead of actual endorsement) in those instances, people cannot be faulted for acting on their desires that they would have endorsed had they ideally reflected on their relevant identities and desires. On the Enlightenist account, people can be wrong about what their reasons are. In this way, it is similar to a realist account. However, unlike realism, there are no objectively real ethical values; all reasons are constructed. As I explained in Chapter 5, the type of idealized reflection I employ is categorically dissimilar to idealized versions of subjectivism for many reasons. Chiefly important, idealized versions of subjectivism imagine that agents have more ideal information or experience. Under my account, people remain completely themselves and authentically true to their practical identities as they actually are (including their information and experiences). They are

© Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_009

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not idealized agents. It is only idealized reflection, a procedural standard on reflection itself, that places a constraint upon the generation and transfer of reasons. Therefore, Enlightenism is a truly neo-Kantian constructivist account of morality whereby values are not inherent in the world, but rather generated through the exercise of our rational capacities. 1

Conferring Value in Constructivist Ethics

According to the Kantian Procedural Thesis which I set forth as definitive of Kantian and neo-Kantian accounts of metaethics, “the activity of rationality is a process that has objective standards defined by the activity of rationality itself. Following these procedures will lead to morality.” The objective standards of the process that validates values, reasons, and obligations confers objectivity onto them, even if they are not inherently valuable. Constructivism relies on this process to transform non-normative entities (such as desires and other mental states) into normative entities (the consequent values, reasons, and obligations that have the ability to entreat people to obey their dictates). According to Kant, the Categorical Imperative performs the task of validating reasons. It is unclear and a matter of debate (as discussed in Chapter 1) whether Kant was fully constructivist, or whether he had some realist underpinnings in his account. The Categorical Imperative (CI) can be imagined either way. Under a realist interpretation, the CI is a test for moral worth. It is a procedure that people can use to reliably guide them to real goodness. According to a constructivist reading, the process of using the CI is itself what confers value on things that formerly had no value. It is arguable that the thing which confers value (in Kant’s case, rationality as described by the CI) must itself be valuable. For Kant, a minimalist realist interpretation would state that rationality itself (the process of reasoning) is valuable in itself. I think this is the correct interpretation of Kant. Under a fully constructivist account, like Korsgaard’s, however, this move is unavailable, for there is nothing (the thoroughgoing ethical constructivist claims) that is intrinsically valuable. Rather, everything has value only because we take those things to have value. The taking of something to have value is what gives it value. This reduces value to a perspective that one takes. The procedure that supposedly confers value is, therefore, not objective in itself. It is questionable whether one specific procedure can be legitimized over another one in thoroughgoing constructivism. Korsgaard claims that the procedure of people reflectively endorsing desires from the perspective of the practical identities that they already have is what

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confers normativity on formerly non-normative mental states. She is able to get a semblance of objectivity from the purported fact that all people share a necessary identity of being a member of humanity and thus, are participants in morality. However, when pressed on whether this identity should take precedence over other identities when they clash, she must (and does) indicate that nothing dictates that any identity actually be endorsed over any other (including the necessary identity of being human). Therefore, the subjectivity of the criterion is troublesome on a thoroughgoing constructivist account, and constructivism appears to lapse practically and theoretically into a version of subjectivism. Under thoroughgoing constructivism, nothing can grant true objective status to the reasons and obligations that stem from various practical identities. Whether something is objective or not depends not on a valid process (such as a minimal realist’s interpretation of Kant’s CI), but rather ‘objective validity’ depends on individuals taking something to be objective or not. Those ‘takings of things to be valuable’ could be (and certainly are) different among varying individuals. People’s identities themselves differ, as well as the extent of their reflection. These variances exist even within the same individual. People wear diverse hats throughout their days; they think, feel, and value different things while in positive or negative, thoughtful or spontaneous moods. People spend different lengths of time reflecting on their choices. One person’s taking of something to be valuable (or taking it to be more valuable than something else) can vary from moment to moment, sometimes dramatically so, and even within seconds from each other. Passionate relationships demonstrate this markedly: The phrase, “I love him, I love him not” maintains familiarity to us throughout generations because the fleetingness of feelings (and our seeming reasons) are recognizably and frustratingly human. Reasons and obligations, therefore, subjected to the kind of procedure that the thoroughgoing constructivist envisions, are arguably just as subjective as any subjectivist account of morality. It is tempting to claim that the metaethical constructivist can say of all genuine reasons that they must be rationally endorsable; so, anything that is not rationally endorsable is not a reason. However, that is not possible unless the constructivist also argues that there are normative requirements for something to be rational apart from our taking of it to be rational. This kind of minimal realism need not be embraced within the sphere of ethics, but intrinsic normativity must exist somewhere for that kind of approach to be available. Language, rationality, or even mathematical logic are all areas that present opportunities to ground ethical normativity in a different kind of normativity. For Korsgaard, moral normativity is similar to the normativity in language in

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that they are both constructed (see the Inductive Strategy in Chapter 3 that I developed based on her arguments). Language may even play a role in transferring normativity onto reasons and obligations (see the Deductive Strategy that I construct from Korsgaard’s ideas in Chapter 4). However, on Korsgaard’s view there is no normativity inherent in language apart from our taking the same meanings to be normative for ourselves and each other. The reason we do so is because we are social creatures that have particular psychologies with compulsions and reactions. I argue in Chapters 4 and 6 that compulsion is more of an indication of a habit than of an obligation (contrary to Korsgaard’s examples in her simple requests for people to “picture a yellow spot” or respond when their names are called). However, the real reason that Korsgaard equates obligation with compulsion is because there is no other move open to her to distinguish the normativity of meanings and reasons. Contrary to thoroughgoing constructivism, I contend that there is at least one sphere of normativity that we must accept as objectively real in order for constructivism to succeed as a third theory of metaethics. Therefore, I embrace a minimally realist account of normativity, and a constructivist account of morality. There is a right way to do certain things, independent of anyone’s valuing that way (in at least one area). Although I do not present arguments for the claim in this book, the areas of logic and rationality are those where it is most likely to find intrinsic normativity. Language, I agree with Korsgaard, is similar to morality and, therefore, constructed. Even mathematics is likely to be constructed (at least in part).1 On the other hand, the principle of non-contradiction and inference rules involving the concepts of possibility and necessity, among others, are highly likely to have inherent value and are not subject to people taking them to be valuable. If, however, it turns out that nothing is inherently normative, then constructivism cannot get a foothold, and it cannot be a legitimate third way metaethical theory. 2

Thoroughgoing Constructivism’s Lapse into Subjectivism

Korsgaard observes that people may be drawn to thinking that some reasons are illegitimate since some reasons appear to be rationally impermissible 1 I have been convinced of this by the problems generated by Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead’s grandiose attempt in Principia Mathmatica (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1910) to reduce mathematics to logic, by astute arguments by Rudolf Carnap (“Logicist Foundations of Mathematics,” Philosophy of Mathematics: Selected Readings. Cambridge University Press, 1983, pp. 41–52.) and by Hilary Putnam (personal communication).

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from the perspective of the necessary moral identity. She says, “[O]ne of my characterizations of normativity – that it is the ability to survive reflection – might seem to entitle me to that conclusion,” but she claims that it is an “easy way out.”2 On her view, there is no way to illegitimatize reasons and, therefore, there are legitimate immoral reasons. She explains this by engaging with G.A. Cohen’s example of the Mafioso (which he presents as a challenge to her theory in the commentaries section of The Sources of Normativity). The Mafioso has two roles that conflict: he has the necessary practical identity of a member of humanity and the contingent practical identity of a member of the mob. The mob is a group that has its own rules of behavior towards members and non-members, many of which conflict with the standards of morality as implied by the moral identity. In response to Cohen, she says: It would be intellectually tidy, and no doubt spare me trouble from critics, if I now said that only those obligations consistent with morality are ‘real’ or in Cohen’s phrase ‘genuine.’ Then I could say that it seems to the Mafioso as if he had an obligation to be strong and in his sense honourbound, but actually he does not. I could say that there’s no obligation here, only the sense of obligation: no normativity, only the psychic appearance of it. And one of my characterizations of normativity  – that it is the ability to survive reflection  – might seem to entitle me to that conclusion, at least if I am right that reflection leads us to morality and so should lead the Mafioso to abandon his immoral role. But I am not comfortable with this easy way out, for a reason related to one of Cohen’s own points – that there is a real sense in which you are bound by a law you make for yourself until you make another…. There is a sense in which these obligations are real – not just psychologically but normatively. And this is because it is the endorsement, not the explanations and arguments that provide the material for the endorsement, that does the normative work.3 Korsgaard, in response to Cohen’s commentary, acknowledges the existence of immoral reasons on her account (which she recognizes will be controversial). She also provides a specific rationale for admitting immoral reasons that relies on the importance of endorsement in the creation of reasons. Immoral reasons can and do exist on her account because reasons are created through endorsement, whether rational or not. As Korsgaard says, “it is 2 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257. 3 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257.

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the endorsement, not the explanations and arguments that provide the material for the endorsement, that does the normative work.”4 In defining reasons as reflective success, the notion of ‘successful endorsement’ does not for her mean ‘rational endorsement.’ It merely means ‘endorsement.’ If, at the end of an episode of reflection, an agent endorses a desire, then that desire is a reason. It is a reason regardless of whether it was the best action or even a reasonable action to take in the circumstances given the various identities of the reflector. It is a reason just in case it is actually endorsed. She agrees that her view entails that any endorsed desire is a reason: “I must say that it is the endorsement that does the work, since I am prepared to agree that if human beings decided that human life was worthless then it would be worthless.”5 And, “The point is just this: if one holds the view, as I do, that obligations exist in the first-person perspective, then in one sense the obligatory is like the visible: it depends on how much of the light of reflection is on.”6 Therefore, those who reflect more thoroughly will probably have fewer immoral reasons and those who reflect less will likely have more immoral reasons. This is only probable since, on her view, it is not guaranteed that better reflection will automatically lead to prioritized moral reasons, as I explained before. I take up ways to prioritize reasons in Chapters 9 and 10. It happens often that people endorse desires that are immoral and irrational. At the end of an episode of reflection, people endorse murdering, childmolesting, stealing, and lying. Under a thoroughgoing constructivist account like Korsgaard’s, there are no justified limits to what can be endorsed as a reason. People could even endorse self-mutilation, binging and purging, and other kinds of self-abusive behaviors that do not benefit them or please them, as do many. On Korsgaard’s view, the Mafioso has reasons to carry out the immoral actions ordered by his Boss, the hit-man has a reason to murder, the thief has a reason to steal, even mothers and fathers who desire to do so can have reasons to rape their own children. These immoral actions are reasons according to Korsgaard. As such, people should pursue the immoral activities that they endorse, and they may even have an obligation to do so because “there is a real sense in which you are bound by a law you make for yourself until you make another….”7 Korsgaard’s theory, in this light, looks more like subjectivism than a constructivist account in the tradition of Kantian Rationalism. In fact, it now 4 5 6 7

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 254. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257.

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seems perplexing why Korsgaard argues extensively for the importance of rationality and the moral identity. The point of the moral identity is to show that all agents are committed to an objectively-valid morality, but if agents who are acting immorally are doing as they should, then why should they change? How should we criticize them? Korsgaard has a response, though it is unsatisfying. She says: [T]he activity of reflection has rules of its own … And one of them, perhaps the most essential, is the rule that we should never stop reflecting until we have reached a satisfactory answer, one that admits of no further questioning…. If the argument  … is correct, following that rule would have led the Mafioso to morality, and, since he was reflecting, he ought to have followed it, and therefore he ought to have arrived there. His obligation to be a good person is therefore deeper than his obligation to stick to his code.8 Korsgaard claims that the Mafioso has two obligations that conflict with one another. He has an immoral obligation to “stick to his code” (which harms people) and he has a moral obligation to refrain from harming people. Although he has not actually endorsed his moral obligation, and perhaps not his moral identity at all, he still has an obligation to be moral because in reflection there is “the rule that we should never stop reflecting until we have reached a satisfactory answer, one that admits of no further questioning…. [and] following that rule would have led the Mafioso to morality.” Furthermore, his moral obligation is ‘deeper’ than his immoral one since reflecting in the appropriate manner would have led him there. The problem with the answer that Korsgaard provides is that she undermines her own justification for including immoral reasons. Recall her claims about why the Mafioso has immoral reasons: There is a real sense in which you are bound by a law you make for yourself until you make another…. There is a sense in which these obligations are real – not just psychologically but normatively. And this is because it is the endorsement, not the explanations and arguments that provide the material for the endorsement, that does the normative work.9 According to Korsgaard, actual endorsement is necessary to transform a desire into a reason. An argument about appropriate reflection and the necessity of 8 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 258. 9 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 257.

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the moral identity without endorsement does not give a person a reason. She says, “I must say that it is the endorsement that does the work, since I am prepared to agree that if human beings decided that human life was worthless then it would be worthless.”10 If this is correct, then if the Mafioso endorses his immoral code and does not endorse his moral identity, he has a reason to be immoral and lacks a reason to be moral. Korsgaard cannot claim, therefore, that he has a deeper obligation to be moral since he never endorsed the moral identity and his moral obligations. His moral obligations are merely arguments until the Mafioso actually endorses them. On the other hand, if Korsgaard concedes that obligations can be created by arguments, then the motivation for her to admit immoral reasons has disappeared, and the controversy surrounding immoral reasons can be sidestepped. However, since these claims regarding her theory are incompatible, only one (at most) can be correct. Either we accept that it is the actual endorsement that does the work in creating reasons (as the thoroughgoing constructivist must) or we choose the option wherein there is a normative criterion for successful reflection (which would require minimal realism in at least one area of normativity). To complicate matters, Korsgaard herself seems to be inconsistent on this issue. Earlier in Sources Korsgaard states: Certainly I am not saying that reflective endorsement – I mean the bare fact of reflective endorsement – is enough to make an action right. For in one sense no human action can happen without reflective endorsement. When people stop reflection or stop too soon, that is a kind of endorsement, for it implies that the work of reflection is done. So if reflective endorsement made an action right, there would be a sense in which every action was right.11 Here she states that endorsement alone is insufficient for the creation of reasons. She appears to draw a different conclusion than this in the case of the Mafioso, however, since actual endorsement, even of an immoral desire, becomes a reason for the Mafioso. Yet a different interpretation of the passage above would salvage her from inconsistency. Perhaps she is making the point that reflection must be deliberative in nature and that it should eliminate actions that are done only from reflection on that action (rather than on whether the action should be done or not). In other words, perhaps the relevant question should not be “Do I endorse this desire?” but rather, “What can be said about me acting according to this 10 11

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 254. Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 161.

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desire and what can be said about me not acting according to this desire?” The Mafioso could reflect on whether he should stick to the code or not by coming up with reasons both for and against the action based on his identities. Such deliberative reflection is much deeper than merely acknowledging to himself that he will stick to the code (i.e., with knowledge of what he is doing). Aristotle makes similar distinctions, and this could have been the point she intended.12 However this passage is interpreted, one cannot claim that it is “the endorsement that does the work” and also consistently require that certain limits be placed on the proper endorsement of desires. The problem with claiming that there are such things as immoral reasons on Korsgaard’s account is not simply that it is unintuitive for us to say that people have a reason to do the immoral things that they endorse (though legitimizing reasons to perform horrifically immoral acts is a significant hindrance to a theory in itself). Rather, there are several considered reasons for why accepting immoral and irrational reasons is problematic, particularly on Korsgaard’s account. First, thoroughgoing constructivism appears to generate at least as many reasons as subjectivism does. Reflective success fails to provide a substantive limit on the source of reasons since it is unclear if anything constitutes successful reflection. There is no way of correctly or incorrectly reflecting if the actual endorsement of desires produces reasons. If a reason is simply anything that is actually endorsed by anyone, then it is questionable whether the thoroughgoing constructivist has given any account of normativity at all. If a person can reflect to any degree or from any practical identity, then it appears that any conscious action of “I am doing [Action A]” or “I want to do [Action A]” will fit reflective success. As long as it is performed consciously and without any lack of endorsement, doing it or wanting to do it is endorsing it. The limits for creating a reason would be very minimal. Agents must consciously perform or desire the action and must not object to their own performance or desiring of the action. The first requirement would exclude instances such as sleepwalking, brainwashing, hypnosis, and other actions performed without awareness. The second condition would rule out various kinds of compulsive actions, like acting under the influence of an unwanted addiction or neurosis. It is unclear whether subjectivism cannot likewise eliminate such unconscious and unwanted compulsive actions. Subjectivist theories that add a second-order desire requirement (such that a reason must be something that someone wants to want) eliminate at least as many instances of reasonhood as Korsgaard’s constructivism. Thoroughgoing constructivism is, thus, 12

Aristotle, The Nichomachean Ethics, III.I.

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practically similar to subjectivism in terms of the amount and quality of reasons that are generated. Therefore, thoroughgoing constructivism lapses into subjectivism and fails to create an account with more normatively substantive results than subjectivism. The second problem is that subjectivism actually fares better than Korsgaard’s constructivism regarding the nature of reasons. On subjectivism, reasons are private and normatively bind only agents that desire the ends of actions. On Korsgaard’s constructivism, by contrast, reasons are inherently public and normatively bind everyone. Therefore, not only do all actually endorsed irrational and immoral desires become reasons, but they also generate complementary reasons for everyone else who understands those reasons. We get the result that it is not only the Mafioso who has a reason to steal, kill, and evade the law, but in addition, everyone has a reason to help him. Now, most people will not think that the Mafioso’s reasons are stronger to act on than their own reasons issuing from their moral identities. So, helping the Mafioso will not come to fruition in most cases. However, it is certainly odd and highly dubious that everyone who understands the Mafioso has a reason to help him steal, kill, and evade the law. It does not appear that anyone should have to weigh the reasons of morality against the reasons that the Mafioso has in order to come up with the winner in a case of conflicting reasons. Rather, it is just that the Mafioso, if he has a reason at all to do those things ordered by his Boss, has those reasons only himself. The rest of humanity, in virtue of understanding his reasons, does not have complementary reasons to help him. Korsgaard’s constructivism, therefore, multiplies immoral reasons far beyond what a subjectivist account would. The public nature of reasons in these cases becomes a detriment to constructivism instead of a boon. 3

Enlightenism: Ideal Reflection on Relevant Identities

Korsgaard’s constructivism lapses into subjectivism because all desires that are actually endorsed by people become reasons. The absence of any kind of substantive normative criterion dooms the theory to failure as a third alternative to the traditional metaethical territory. Constructivism must place normative conditions on the creation of reasons from desires that are still subjectively generated in order to claim a place between subjectivism and realism. Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing strong constructivism cannot justify such constraints. Therefore, a non-thoroughgoing account may be a good option if it successfully eliminates the existence of immoral and irrational reasons. The issue is, of course, more than simply seeking to eliminate supposed immoral

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and irrational reasons. Rather, the thrust of creating a non-thoroughgoing account is to generate genuine normativity. It is to show that there are genuine reasons which are good, and not just those that seem to be good. Without genuine normativity, constructivism is not a third metaethical theory. In the rest of this chapter, I develop such an account. Instead of actual endorsement, I suggest ideal reflection and endorsement to serve as a criterion for constructed reasons. A criterion sets standards for the transformation of desires into reasons, thereby allowing constructivism to avoid criticisms that it is a dressed-up version of subjectivism. And since ideal reflection takes place within the mental states of individuals, the criterion does not entail realism. On my account, people’s desires which they would endorse under ideal reflection on their relevant identities produce legitimate reasons. I call this view ‘Enlightenism’ because an enlightened understanding of oneself and one’s reasons is both a part of the process and a product of reflecting. A successful constructivist account must include a grounding for reasons that prevents it from lapsing into subjectivism. Ideal reflection upon one’s practical identities is a promising option. Adopting this criterion means that the term ‘reason’ would only apply to desires that emerge from processes of reflection that meet ‘ideal’ standards. Ideal reflection always includes consideration of necessary identities. Since the moral identity is a necessary identity, ideal reflection excludes immoral reasons. To be clear: this is not because there are immoral reasons and Enlightenism excludes them. Rather, it is because any desire that cannot acquire the approval of the moral identity cannot become a reason. People can have immoral identities and immoral desires on this account, but they cannot have immoral reasons or obligations. Although there may be differing ways of understanding how this process works and what content is restricted, I argue that people can have reasons that others may think of as immoral on a standard deontological account of ethics, but that there is no such thing as an immoral reason. All those reasons that appear to be immoral on my account are those that can acquire the endorsement of the moral identity. Imagine the Mafioso: if he ideally reflected on his identities, he would see that his moral identity is necessary and his identity as a mobster is only contingent. He can give up his life of crime and still go on to live well. Ideal reflection would reveal to him that giving up his mob lifestyle would give him a better, more consistent, and less stressful life. Therefore, after ideal reflection, he would drop his mobster identity and stop his life of crime. Such ‘transformational changes’ (as psychologists call them) are uncommon in comparison with the incremental changes that people usually make. For example, becoming a little bit more interested in cooking and gardening and

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less in money and people’s opinions of you (until one day your old self, twenty years ago, hardly resembles you) is both more common and less demanding. However, many people have made transformative changes in their identities after having a spiritual experience or a profound insight into the undesired effects of their actions. Ray Anderson, the CEO of Interface Inc., explains a revelation he had in 1994 after reading a book on humanity’s deleterious effect on the environment and the species within it. He completely changed the model on which he did business. Instead of manufacturing industrial carpets by the standard neo-classical economic model of “more is better,” he re-envisioned carpets under a sustainability model, opting for environmentally friendly manufacturing and modularity so that replacement of carpets became less necessary.13 He became an environmental advocate and ran one of the first worldwide companies built on sustainability. It is probably unrealistic to expect everyone to undergo such transformative changes. And in the final chapter, I will explain why it is unwise to quickly undertake a radical transformational change. The point of ideal reflection is not to create an expectation according to which all humans must strive at all times, and on which, if they fall short, they are deemed bad. Rather, it is to have an ideal in mind that marks a definition of a reason such that there is a substantive normative criterion for reason-hood. People could still go on acting on the desires which issue from their immoral identities, but these identities would not create legitimate reasons. And, if one embraces a strong constructivist account on which all reasons are public, there would be no worries about other people being forced to take on the actions towards which their immoral desires strive. Since creating and acting on reasons is not simply acting on whatever desires are morally permissible, a further description of ideal reflection is necessary to show what other identities (besides necessary identities) need to be assessed. An initial possibility is that agents ideally reflect when all of their practical identities have been taken into consideration. So, an agent has a desire and then reflects. If the desire under consideration does not theoretically conflict with any of her necessary identities, then that desire is in theory permissible to act on and it could become a reason. A theoretical conflict is one that issues from the content of the desire and identity. This is in contrast with a practical conflict, which is one that depends on the allocation of one’s resources. For example, if agents could permissibly act on their desires, and only time and money are factors in whether they are able 13

Ray Anderson, Mid-Course Correction: Toward a Sustainable Enterprise: The Interface Model, Peregrinzilla Press, 1999.

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to do so, that is a practical conflict. Whereas desires that produce practical conflicts can become reasons, desires that produce theoretical conflicts with necessary identities cannot. Failing to act on desires that produce theoretical conflicts is obligatory. Under this possible construal of ideal reflection, desires that conflict only with contingent identities may become reasons, as long as agents endorse them after considering all of their identities. Which desires transform into reasons will depend on which ones survive ideal reflection. Of course, reflectors should also remove those contingent practical identities that conflict with their necessary identities. However, ideal reflection on all of one’s identities is a condition that will very seldom be met, if ever. It is practically impossible to reflect on all identities and all of the implications of those identities before one endorses one’s desires. Therefore, although reflection on all identities and desires is a tempting suggestion, it may require an infinite amount of time. It certainly involves astute insight and transparency of all of one’s identities and desires to oneself, features that are dubitable in themselves and rare at best. People can spend their whole lives attempting to understand themselves and still find their mental lives mysterious. So, ideal reflection on all of one’s identities is not a reasonable standard to hold individuals accountable to, even if those desires that survive ideal reflection sufficiently qualify them for being reasons. A less rigorous and more applicable standard is that ideal reflection requires reflection on all of one’s relevant identities. Relevance is obviously open to individual interpretation. Though vagueness in itself is not an insurmountable obstacle for understanding and applying the standard, it does introduce a margin of error in understanding one’s reasons. Whereas a standard that involves reflecting on all identities is impractical, a relevance standard may be imprecise at times. For example, a common issue is that people become too focused on part of a situation instead of looking at it in its entirety. In these cases, they are unable to accurate gauge relevance. The following questions (among others) may prompt reflection upon relevant identities. Questions for Reflection 1. Are any of my prominent relationships affected by this action? If so, how would they or might they be affected? 2. Are any of my major goals in life (either near or far into the future) affected by this action? If so, in what way(s) would they or might they be affected? 3. Is this action, in retrospect, something I will be glad to have done? If not, what part of myself do I think may regret doing it?

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4. Will doing this action give me a sense of wholeness, pride, and confidence? If not, will it cause more fragmentation of myself? More shame? More doubt in myself? Why or why not? Relevant reflection requires thoughtfulness to answer these questions, but the standard does not demand a serious look at all of the distant consequences of the action, especially if they are improbable. Relevant reflection might require the person to reflect much more deeply on certain identities that are more important to the individual reflecting. The relevance standard, in any case, always requires reflection on any necessary identities. For that reason, morality (which springs from the moral identity) is a standard that must be met within ideal reflection on all relevant identities. Reflecting on one’s relevant identities is more ideal than reflecting on all of one’s identities if one embraces (as I do) that ethical standards should be achievable and applicable. Relatively complex desires are more easily meditated upon when questions such as the above four are thoughtfully entertained. Imagine, for example, the nebulous issue of divorce, which is fraught with difficulties. Divorce is not prohibited by the moral identity (since one can respect oneself and others while divorcing), and thus it is theoretically permissible. However, according to Enlightenism, people must consider their relevant practical identities before endorsing their desires in order for their reflection to be ideal and therefore confer normativity on their desires, transforming them into reasons for action. Question (1) for reflection asks about the ways in which prominent relationships would likely be affected. Those affected by divorce would certainly include relationships with partners, children, and perhaps extended family members. While parents of children may be happier apart, how a divorce affects children should also be considered. Children are often affected poorly by divorce, but children are also affected poorly by parents who argue constantly and lack respect for each other (not to mention that the lack of respect is prohibited by the moral identity). Some children are able to discuss the issue with their parents, and sometimes divorce can be better for children. Parents who consider a divorce could then try to minimize the negative impact of it on the children by respecting each other during and after the divorce, ensuring that the children have ready access to both parents, and that they are given the same or more love and affection as before the divorce. Other questions connect with these to help parents decide how to act. Will they, as parents, be able to provide well for their kids after they divorce? Will they be able to help the children to adjust and give them what they need to become adults who can trust and bond appropriately with significant others?

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When considering Question (2) individuals should think about their own goals and whether and to what extent they could manage to improve their chances of engaging successfully with their goals in both possible situations (not getting a divorce and getting a divorce). Spouses can sometimes become accustomed to caring for the relationship and their significant other so much that they disregard themselves. Career aspirations, hobbies, friendships, and even self-care may be sidelined in relationships. A person’s self-neglect may grow into a festering resentment. On the other hand, some spouses acclimate to being cared for, and they expect more and more of their partners, without giving in return. Divorce is not necessarily inevitable in such instances if partners can talk and make room for both person’s needs and desires. They can learn to help themselves more and support each other more. For example, historically, women have often taken the role of primary care givers and have neglected their own careers. It is possible for communication within families to help spouses and children to understand their primary care giver’s needs more. Women who previously felt spent and hopeless may then enjoy the support of their families as they come more fully into their own aspirations, while their families have new opportunities to grow in their ability to care for others. Without examining Question (2) and only dwelling on the ways in which divorce could negatively affect children, partners would miss opportunities to discover why they resent each other and what could be done to dissolve it (whether together or apart). Sometimes people discover latent identities to engage with an always desired career or hobby that springs from consideration of their personal life, goals, sense of fulfilment, and agency. Living with a sense of greater fulfilment and wholeness is a positive consequence of thorough reflection. Pertaining to Questions (3) and (4), when individuals imagine how they might feel about having made decisions it is often eye-opening. Feeling proud of oneself may motivate abused spouses to leave, and feeling more confident and more at ease in the world may help people to face their fears knowing that something better awaits them after their initial feelings of anxiety and depression pass. On the other hand, if people are not ready to make a decision to divorce, they may imagine only shame in gazing back at their imagined decision. The point is that if people only superficially look at their practical identities, they miss opportunities to develop themselves and their lives in fruitful ways that support their sense of self, autonomy, and wholeness. By reflecting more fully on their relevant practical identities, they are able to sit with situations long enough to make decisions that are not only decent, but enlightened.

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On Enlightenism, people can be wrong about their own legitimate reasons. This is excusable due to human limitations. Individuals may refuse to introspect, lack the necessary time to do so, or be too focused on one aspect of the situation. People are often unknowingly biased. If people realize their errors, on my account it is appropriate to say, “I thought I was doing the right thing back then, but now I realize I was not.” Ideal reflection reveals principles that are normative from people’s own perspectives and in consideration of their whole selves. Here’s a less complex and emotionally charged example that does not involve moral reasons, but only a personal goal. It is permissible to endorse a desire to eat chocolate cake (generally, because it is not ruled out by any necessary identity). But if I am dieting and see a gorgeous opera cake in a bakery I am visiting, I may be so consumed with excitement that I order and eat it, not even considering that it could ruin my diet. Looking back I may say: “I completely forgot the diet! I would not have eaten it if I had remembered.” Compare this with another case: The chocolate cake presents itself. I remember I have pledged to eat less sugar. However, I know that I have eaten very little sweets in the past two days and decide that this cake will be worth the splurge. A good opera cake is a special treat. I will consciously consume it and will not regret it because I made the decision with my whole self in mind. Enlightenism reinforces that we can each become our own unique best selves by being present with who we are and who we want to be. The more aware we are, the more our actions will line up with our actual reasons. And the more disciplined we are, the more our own personal best self will emerge through the process of acting on our best reasons. If we practice ideal reflection regularly in our lives, then we will act more frequently on our genuine reasons and experience the benefits. People often lack the right information upon which to base a decision, but my account does not require that they have that information. However diligent we are, we cannot always obtain the most accurate information and know impact of our choices upon ourselves and others. Emotional decisions are often misleading, and choices of great magnitude require patience and objectivity. It is more common than not to have partial information about ourselves. Our awareness of our feelings and memories are limited by psychological biases, and we therefore often fail to consider all of our relevant identities and circumstances. People do not know all of the facts and probabilities. Outcomes are also often affected by people’s perceptions of their probabilities of success. Great artists, writers, and even philosophers have been given advice to do something “more productive” with their lives because their chances of

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success in these fields are low; their greatness sometimes depends on their lack of knowing and acting according to a realistic picture of the world and their chances of success in it. Even ideal reflection with the best knowledge possible cannot perfectly capture what we would have done had we known all the effects of our actions that we currently ponder. Therefore, it is not impingent upon people to refrain from acting on incomplete information to establish reasons in situations where it is necessary to make some choice or other. Any ethical theory should address decisions that must be made in instances of limited information so that it may guide individuals towards actions that are good, regardless of people’s limitations. Humanity is embodied in space and time, and each of us is equipped differently. We do not have total knowledge or control of our world around us (nor in us). My theory recognizes this essential fact about humanity and does not attempt to objectify human reasoning beyond its own fundamental nature. I see this as a benefit of Enlightenism. 4

Ideal Reflection and the Moral Identity

Ideal reflection on one’s relevant identities always includes consideration of the moral identity. Practical identities that conflict with the moral identity cannot serve as a source of reasons and immoral desires cannot become reasons. However, what the moral identity requires is easier to explain in theory than in practice. On a constructivist theory, the concept of a moral identity is that each member of the community of autonomous beings is obligated to value and respect each other. Kantians describe this community variously as including all humanity, rational agents, people, valuable beings, or ends in themselves. Membership in this community, according to Kant, implies that we should all: 1. Treat one another with the esteem with which we treat ourselves, 2. Respect the rational agency inherent in all people, and 3. Only will laws that we would follow ourselves. Kantian ideology places particular emphasis on acting with honesty, gaining and distributing correct information, and reflecting in order to ensure one’s actions are consistent with and issue from the Good Will (which requires that actions are rational and rightly motivated). Neo-Kantian theories may diverge in numerous ways from Kant’s specifications, however, and are not held to the same standards and justifications that Kant articulated. The specific actions that neo-Kantians argue fall into permissible, impermissible, and required categories differ depending on the account under consideration. Unlike Kant, and like Korsgaard, I argue that it is essential to

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consider the specific contexts of particular people. It may be close to impossible to identify very concrete rules because reasons depend on both people and their circumstances, both which vary considerably. Under a constructivist account, respecting others implies that even when we think others have flawed reasoning, we do not demean them while offering our insights or try to force our views on them. It is important to remember that the moral identity is dependent on people’s mental states and how they see the world, others, and themselves. The moral identity is necessary because it is inescapable, yet it is not created any differently than other contingent identities. Therefore, people may include within their conception of the moral identity more or fewer interconnected values alongside respect, such as the related values of charitable interpretation, honesty, and (likely) compassion. In Part 3, where I discuss Eastern Indian enlightenment views (and specifically Buddhism), I explain the extent to which I believe moral reasons range, which is considerable both in its breadth and its content. Immoral actions that appear most impermeable are those in which people intentionally harm and manipulate others for their own selfish gain. For example, maliciously gossiping about one’s adversaries is often desirable, but very rarely (if ever) can a person endorse doing that while acting respectfully. Malicious gossip almost always fails ideal reflection on one’s moral obligations to others, and it is therefore almost always immoral. The question that ought to be entertained in respect to whether certain desires can be endorsed by the moral identity is thus: Can I act on this desire while respecting myself and others as autonomous, rational agents, who are equally worthy beings in this world? In the case of malicious gossip, it is unlikely that one can respect all agents and also maliciously gossip. Hard cases usually involve perceived moral reasons that compete with each other. For example, whether one can manipulate someone else in order to save one’s own life or the lives of others is open to debate. On the one hand, manipulation for one’s own materialistic or superficial gain appears to be immoral. But on the other hand, death is quite severe and final, and manipulation is not necessarily either (severe or final). It is therefore tempting to side with manipulation in instances as stark as this. Which action respects agents more and honors one’s conception of the moral identity more coherently? Does one offend against one’s moral identity more by manipulating someone, or by allowing someone’s life to be taken? The answer will depend on how one interprets the range of values within the moral identity. My view is that stealing and lying are morally permissible in particular circumstances (for example, if someone needs to feed her starving child or to protect an innocent person from police brutality). However, Enlightenism itself does not require this; no

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one needs to agree with me. The result of one’s own ideal reflection reveals the reasons that those individuals have. Thus, no desire or action that passes the test of ideal reflection on one’s own moral identity will be immoral. Even reasons that have an appearance of offending morality are not immoral because they were considered in their entirety from the perspective of the necessary moral identity. Other desires may not seem immoral, but they conflict practically with the moral identity in given instances. For example, one may have desires both to feed the hungry and to eat an extravagant meal. Both may be endorsed under many circumstances, yet when considering this specific one hundred dollars, it may often be the case that feeding the hungry will be a better decision given ideal reflection on one’s identities. It is likely that people have reasons to feed the hungry more often than they acknowledge, even from their own perspectives (given ideal reflection). One reason for this is that individuals tend to focus on their immediate pleasure instead of their entire selves, and therefore fail to reflect well enough to examine the frequency with which that occurs. The more enlightened people are, the more they are able to track their actual reasons and accurately weigh their claims against each other in cases of conflict. No one can decide for an agent what becomes a reason. In that way, individuals have autonomy over what reasons survive reflection for themselves. Individuals will almost certainly reflect differently (since they have their own sets of practical identities and circumstances). In Chapter 10, I examine several criteria that agents can use to assess the strength of their competing claims. 5

Counterfactual Reasons

A central part of the Enlightenist account is its reliance on counterfactual reasons. Permitting counterfactual reasons is a substantial and beneficial amendment to an account of the generation of reasons. Not only does the “if you had ideally reflected upon all relevant identities” resolve serious problems that burden Korsgaard’s account concerning purported immoral reasons, it also effectively captures many other features that an account like Korsgaard’s cannot. Counterfactual reasons help explain the frequent situations in which people act without reflection. A person swerves into a telephone pole to miss hitting a child in the road or someone runs into a burning building to rescue those screaming without a second thought. In such emergencies, people

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must act quickly. Other ‘thoughtless’ or ‘automatic’ actions, such as driving to work along the same route, cooking a meal one regularly eats, and so on, are also not individually reflected upon. Nevertheless, those individuals still appear to have reasons to perform those actions. Instantaneous actions are arguably cases of people acting on reasons, yet without explicit reasoning. Such cases should be captured and explained in a satisfying way by any metaethical theory. While realists can account for people having reasons to perform such instantaneous actions, constructivists like Korsgaaard cannot. Since Korsgaard places exclusive importance on a person’s actual endorsement of a reason, on her theory instantaneous actors do not have reasons at all. Furthermore, while realists explain the goodness of self-sacrificial instantaneous actions by claiming that subjects act in accordance with objective goodness, Korsgaard’s constructivist account does not allow for goodness antecedent to willing. Constructivists therefore face a choice: they may maintain that people’s actual endorsement transforms metal states into reasons (wherein immoral reasons are also permitted), or they may embrace a counterfactual account of reasons such as Enlightenism. A minimal solution to the issue that does not involve counterfactuals may invoke a sort of higher-order reflection that says of a certain actions or actiontypes that it is okay to fail to reflect on them. Otherwise, automatic actions would be impermissible (since their agents neglected to enlist their reasoning duties). For example, barring commitments to diets and serious health problems, people might be able to forgo reflection on what to eat. A higher-order refection account may claim that it is permissible under these circumstances to go to the refrigerator and eat something – anything – that you desire. Maybe during some pre-established leisure time it is permissible to watch TV and fail to reflect on what you watch – anything on the television will do. However, this will not explain our intuitions regarding the goodness of certain non-reflective self-sacrificial actions. Enlightenism can explain our intuitions concerning non-reflected upon actions by enlisting dispositions (from fully developed to latent), which spring from practical identities within agents. Dispositions to act in certain ways are easily generalized to apply not only to instantaneous actions, but they may also serve as a natural basis for counterfactual accounts such as Enlightenism. If people are conditioned to do good things, then they are more likely to act as if by reflex to do good things when there is no time for reflection. Even people who are not conditioned to do good things sometimes observe themselves jumping to the rescue, surprising themselves that they risked their lives. For

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some, this constitutes a spiritual experience  – a turning point in their lives when they recognize something self-sacrificing in themselves that they want to develop more. Actions such as these are central to moral praise and change. On the Enlightenist account, reasons are created by those desires that people would endorse after ideal reflection on their relevant identities. Ideal reflection requires that people consider their moral identity and that they eliminate immoral desires from reason-hood. On this picture, there is a divide between reasons that people actually have and reasons that they think they have. People have reasons (those that would be endorsed in ideal reflection) of which they are sometimes unaware. Furthermore, even if people do their best and reflect well, they may make mistakes. In this way, Enlightenism is similar to realism, yet in no way are the actual reasons that people have based on objectively real ethical values. Instead, they are constructed from counterfactuals (what people would have endorsed had they used ideal reflection). People’s reasons therefore vary in accordance with who they are and their circumstances. Our reactions in these instances issue from our identities and the habits we have cultivated. The habit in itself does not show that we have a reason. Rather, the habit shows how we usually respond to the situations we have encountered. If ideal reflection reveals that you should have swerved for the child, hugged your friend, and chastised the sexual offender, then you have cultivated habits that are consistent with your reasons. You have acted on your reasons. But if you have not cultivated such habits, then with more self-study and discipline, you will eventually have habits that reflect your reasons. In summary, I have argued: 1. The admission of at least one objectively real non-ethical entity is required as a condition for developing a non-subjectivist account of ethical constructivism, 2. Ideal reflection on one’s identities and desires creates a person’s actual reasons, 3. The use of a relevance criterion is a relatively expedient process by which ideal reflection should proceed, but it will not be error-free, 4. Admitting counterfactual reasons is a beneficial component of an account of reasons and will help identify reasons that are not actually endorsed but should be endorsed. It also helps explain our intuitions concerning automatic actions due to emergencies or habits, and finally, 5. Reflecting on oneself and exercising discipline in developing one’s habits will create an easier and more accurate adherence to one’s actual reasons. Therefore, the more enlightened people are, the better they are able to act on their genuine reasons. As a result, they experience the fruits of consistency and integrity.

chapter 8

Private Reasons and Reasons of Autonomy Whereas public reasons have normative force for all individuals, private reasons do not.1 In Chapter 5, I presented the theoretical possibilities for the sources of reasons (subjectivism, realism, and constructivism) and I examined how the nature of reasons can divide those accounts into strong and weak versions. In the strong versions of constructivism and realism, all reasons are public; in the weak versions, there are some public reasons, and some private reasons. The strong versions therefore endorse the Universality Thesis (UT, which implies that all reasons are public), and the weak versions reject UT. Whereas Christine Korsgaard (strong constructivism) argues for the publicity of all reasons, Thomas Nagel (weak realism) argues that some reasons are public and some are private. The focus of this chapter is on the nature of reasons and whether constructivism should permit private reasons. I argue that it should. In the last chapter, I explained how reasons are generated on my version of constructivism, which I call Enlightenism. It claims that reasons emerge from people’s desires that they would counterfactually endorse if they ideally reflected on their relevant identities and mental states. Ideal reflection always includes consideration of the moral identity. Reasons emerging from the moral identity are public, since moral reasons are shared by everyone. Reasons that issue from other practical identities must be compatible with the moral identity, but are not necessarily public. Enlightenism is therefore neutral on the Universality Thesis. Thomas Nagel argues that there are three kinds of reasons that are private: 1. Reasons of obligation (what some might call ‘special obligations’), which are reasons that stem from people’s specific relationships with others, 2. Reasons of autonomy, which are those that stem from people’s goals, ambitions, and hobbies, and, 3. Deontological reasons, which are complex moral reasons on 1 Nagel uses the terms ‘agent-relative’ and ‘agent-neutral.’ Korsgaard adopts Nagel’s terms in her discussion of his mixed view in “The Reasons We Can Share.” Korsgaard changed her preferred terms to ‘private’ and ‘public’ reasons to capitalize on Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument (which I discuss in Chapter 3). I adopt this later terminology from Sources of Normativity as my primary terminology as her theory in Sources marks an emergence of constructivism as the distinctively third way theory of metaethics, which is the focus of this book.

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which it would be good from a neutral point of view to do something (like kill a murderer, which would exact justice and produce happiness), but on which it would be bad from a personal point of view to do (since killing anyone is violent and being the one to do it is distasteful). I embrace two types of reasons as private: reasons of obligation and reasons of autonomy. In this chapter, I argue that reasons of autonomy are private. Since my account does not draw from the publicity of language and linguistic consciousness to ground the publicity of reasons, there is nothing in it that requires all reasons to be public. The openness of my account to varieties of reasons is an advantage. Although I argue for a weak version of constructivism that embraces two types of reasons that are private, other philosophers can customize Enlightenism to accept more or less private reasons than I do and maintain the integrity of the general account. 1

Reasons of Autonomy

Reasons of autonomy involve people’s special interests or ambitions, such collecting stamps, becoming a renowned writer, or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.2 The natural way of understanding reasons of autonomy is to say that they are private, or reasons only for the person who has the special interest or goal in question. Weak realists like Nagel can explain them as private, but strong constructivists such as Korsgaard must argue that they have normative force for everyone regardless of individual standpoints, interests, and inclinations. Although Enlightenism can account for either option, I believe the best interpretation of reasons of autonomy is that they are private. Reasons of autonomy are naturally seen as providing reasons only for the specific agents who possess the ambitions. My friend Holly’s goal to buy and display the mugs that commemorate each of the 50 states in the Starbucks’ collector line appears to give only her a reason to seek and buy these mugs; it doesn’t give everyone else a reason to help her. Of course, private reasons may give other people a reason to help the person with the ambition, but these reasons are either taken on by others voluntarily or because there is a relational context that creates expectations on people to help each other with their personal interests. Friendships, for example, give people reasons to help each other with their ambitions because friends are concerned with each other’s happiness (and they are thus invested in each other’s ambitions, as well). As Holly’s friend, I have a reason to gift her mugs from my travels 2 The ambition to climb Mount Kilimanjaro is Nagel’s often-cited example of a reason of autonomy from The View From Nowhere, p. 167.

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to please her. This stems from the normative force of friendship, which is a private reason of obligation. Friendship is an example of how additional reasons are generated when someone stands in special relationship with others. We are especially invested in each other’s happiness (and therefore in each other’s interests). Realists about reasons, like Nagel, can explain why reasons of autonomy should be interpreted as private by claiming that the objects or activities involved in the ambitions have only agent-relative value. Agent-relative value produces agent-relative (private) reasons, whereas agent-neutral value produces agent-neutral (public) reasons. Collecting mugs for each of the 50 states is not something good-in-itself, so the only good that it can have is derived from our attitudes towards it. Although collecting state mugs has value for Holly, because of her attitude towards them, not everyone is required to either care about the state mugs or give their money and time to seek out state mugs for Holly. The realist can conclude that ambitions display just the sort of characteristics we intuit of them. They give only the person who has them private reasons to achieve them, while reasons of obligation may also give people’s close friends and family reasons to help each other. Constructivists who accept the intuition that reasons of autonomy are private can reject UT and strong constructivism as long as the account they endorse does not require that all reasons are public. A proponent of strong constructivism (such as Korsgaard) carries the burden of explaining how these reasons can be plausibly interpreted as public, however. In “The Reasons We Can Share,” Korsgaard argues for an interpretation of the structure of reasons of autonomy that attempts to make sense of these reasons on a strong constructivist account. I argue that Korsgaard’s construal of reasons of autonomy as public: 1. Cannot accurately describe our reasoning processes, 2. Produces inconsistencies within her account, and most importantly, 3. Fails to explain most reasons that involve competition. Competition is a phenomenon which pervades our lives, and it is insensible to dismiss all reasons that have competitive aspects as illusory. Thus, I conclude that reasons of autonomy should be interpreted as private, where their normative force is dependent on the particular interests of an agent and gives only that agent a reason. If I am right, then weak constructivism is the best version of constructivism. In Chapter 7, I argued that Enlightenism solves issues in Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing constructivism by eliminating problematic immoral reasons. And since it can accommodate private reasons, it is also more flexible and more intuitive in capturing the nature of various kinds of reasons, such as reasons of autonomy and reasons of obligation.

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Korsgaard’s Theory and Its Incompatibility with Private Reasons

On Korsgaard’s view, reasons are generated by the reflective endorsement of desires by agents. The process works like this: An agent has a desire, and since she is a rational agent, she can ask herself whether it is a good thing to act on her desire. If, on appropriate reflection upon her desire and everything potentially influenced by that desire, she decides that it is a good thing to act on it, then that desire will be transformed into a reason. However, under Korsgaard’s view, this reason which was generated by a particular agent does not merely provide a reason for the desiring agent. Since all reasons are public on her account, every desire endorsed by a desiring agent also produces complimentary reasons in other rational agents to help the desiring agent. The reasons of one agent are transferred through communication to others, and vice versa. Korsgaard states that “If all desires gave rise to agent-neutral [public] reasons, every desire would be an act of legislation  – it would create a value for the whole human race.”3 Thus, if the endorsing agent’s desire involves pursuing an object for herself, then everyone else has complimentary reasons to help that agent pursue the object of her endorsed desire.4 It is vital to note that Korsgaard argues extensively for the publicity of all reasons. It is used in turn as a crucial premise in her argument to show that constructivist accounts can produce moral reasons. If reasons are private, she thinks that constructivism cannot succeed in explaining how we can be obligated to one another. Her specific form of constructivism is Kantian, and in exploring Kant’s view, she concludes that the Categorical Imperative only establishes that if we are agents, we must act according to a law, but it alone does not show that we must therefore act according to the moral law. We must only act according to the moral law if reasons are agent-neutral, and not a kind of “private property.”5 Developing Kant’s theory, she argues that all reasons are public and thus that all agents have moral obligations. This argument for moral obligations is dependent on a claim about the nature of reasons – all reasons. The publicity of reasons cannot be limited to moral reasons, since

3 Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 285. 4 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, Lecture 3, includes an explanation of the source of reasons on her account. 5 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, pp. 133–134 presents her argument against using private reasons in a constructivist argument for morality. Korsgaard explains private (agentrelative) reasons as being the “personal property” of agents in “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 276.

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moral reasons have not yet been shown to exist, or even to be capable of existing on Korsgaard’s view. Therefore, even in the case of personal ambitions, Korsgaard must argue against the intuition that reasons of autonomy are private. She says: “[R]easons springing from ambitions are agent-neutral [public]. But they spring from our respect for one another, rather than from our respect for one another’s ends.”6 She presents an alternative reading to the intuitive account of how reasons of autonomy function in order to defuse the counterintuitive import of interpreting them as public. I introduce the natural reading of reasons of autonomy and then explain Korsgaard’s alterative account. Finally, I examine why her account does not work and argue that any strong constructivist theory will not be able to make sense of competitive ambitions. 3

Reasons of Autonomy: The Natural Reading

The intuitive way of understanding reasons of autonomy begins with the desires of agents to achieve something. I begin by sketching the natural reading of these reasons using Korsgaard’s example of her ambition to write a book on Kant: The Intuitive Account Step 1: I want to write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading (first-personal desire). Step 2: I endorse that desire upon reflection. Step 3: This gives me a reason to write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading (reason). The natural reading of the reason in Step 3 is to say that it is private, providing only a reason for Korsgaard to write a book on Kant. It appears private because it arises from a desire for a specific agent to pursue a special interest of hers, and the resulting reason is in reference to her alone. This, in turn, seems to give only her a reason to pursue her own special interest. For this seemingly private reason to become a public reason, it must generate complementary reasons in everyone else to help her write a book that will become required reading on Kant. On a strong constructivist account, such as Korsgaard’s, therefore, Step 3 implies an additional move. 6 Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 290.

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Step 4: This reason (in Step 3) gives everyone a complimentary reason to help me to write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading (complimentary reason). But Step 4 does not seem right. Surely everyone does not have a reason to help Korsgaard with her personal project to write a book on Kant. The move from Step 3 to Step 4 is suspect. It does not seem that all people do in fact have a reason to help all individuals achieve their personal ambitions. Furthermore, this view leads to an unintuitively large number of reasons. If reasons of autonomy are public, then we all have a reason to help Korsgaard write a good book on Kant. But you and I and everyone else also have ambitions of our own that we endorse upon reflection. I desire to become a recognized artist; you want to become a great travel-writer. We also have many more desires that we endorse every day, probably hundreds, because we each have mundane desires to eat, use the restroom, look good to ourselves and those around us, do well on our simple projects, and relax with television, movies, books, and so on. We have millions of desires that we endorse throughout each of our lives. And there are over 7.5 billion people in the world, so if we each have, say, two hundred desires per day that we endorse (which is, if anything, a modest figure), then we each have over 1.5 trillion reasons each day, most of which refer to helping others with everything they have reason to pursue in their lives. Of course, on Korsgaard’s account we are only aware of reasons that are communicated to us, primarily through linguistic consciousness. So people who are well-connected, have large families, and use social media will have millions of reasons of which they are aware a day. It seems the only defense against this result on her account is to live relatively secluded from others. This seems plainly counterintuitive. Ordinarily, we recognize many reasons to do things, but we usually draw the line on even considering the reasons of others if they fall under some typical categories. When a person has a project or ambition to do something or a desire to satisfy a personal need of preference, we usually consider that reason to be operative for only that person (and perhaps others who are closely connected to the person). We see no reason to help people pursue goals that are easily met by the individuals who desire them. It seems that we only recognize that we have reasons to help people with their personal goals if they need help and if they are important to us or if we ourselves want their project to succeed. These are the conditions under which we usually recognize the force of others’ reasons upon ourselves, whereas we recognize the force of all of our own desires upon ourselves, great and small, basic and non-basic, necessitating help and

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not necessitating help. We do not feel obligated to help others with their ambitions just because they want something. Intuitively, each of us have more reasons in reference to ourselves than we do to others, and even the reasons of others that we do share do not have the same force for us as they have for the people in whom the reason originated or for whom the satisfaction of the desire will benefit. Strong constructivism is counterintuitive as it fails to accommodate our robust instincts that we have regarding the seemingly limited scope of our obligations and reasons to help others.7 Because an interpretation of ambitions as public appears problematic on a natural reading, Korsgaard develops an alternative account. 4

Reasons of Autonomy as Public: Korsgaard’s Alternative

In “The Reasons We Can Share,” Korsgaard offers an alternative account of what it is to have an ambition that does not leave it open to the difficulties discussed. This is because it does not legitimize our asking others to help us achieve the objects of our endorsed desires simply because we want them. Revising how we think of ambitions, she attempts to avoid the unintuitive consequences that every reason gives everyone reasons to help each and every person achieve all of their ambitions. Ambitions are the aims of particular agents, and they may or may not be endorsed upon reflection by agents, making them candidates for becoming reasons of autonomy. Korsgaard claims that Nagel’s account of the mental states involved in an ambition is inaccurate. Nagel’s account of the ambitions of agents begins with an agent-relative end: Nagel’s Interpretation of Ambitions 1. I want my book to be required reading (where that is an agent-relative end); 2. Therefore: I shall write a good book (as a means to that end)8

7 Someone might respond that we do have reasons to help everyone with everything that they desire to do, but the force of others’ reasons are just so slight that they do not create demands on us that we recognize. I do not think that this solution is satisfactory. One concern that I have with this answer is that it appears to automatically give unwarranted weight to the reasons of the individuals who have the desires, and this does nothing to explain why, if all reasons are public, we do not have equal obligations to everyone, as a standard utilitarian account concedes. 8 Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 287 (direct quote).

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Whereas her account begins with an agent-neutral end. Korsgaard’s Interpretation of Ambitions (1) Someone should write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading (where that is an agent-neutral end); (2) I want to be that someone (agent-relative motive).9 Korsgaard defends her interpretation of ambitions by saying that “to have a personal project or ambition is not to desire a special object which you think is good for you subjectively, but rather to want to stand in a special relationship to something you think is good objectively.”10 Korsgaard admits that her account of ambitions seems to presuppose that there is something that is good objectively (the agent-neutral end), yet her account of reasons is opposed to this assumption since all reasons are created from endorsed desires and are not formed from the recognition of agent-neutral values.11 She does not explore what the combination of her theory of the origin of reasons and this account of ambitions would look like. However, when united, it is clear that these two elements create a tension within the account, rendering it implausible in three ways. Considering Korsgaard’s new interpretation for ambitions and the account she gives of the genesis of reasons (in which reasons always begin with a desire), it appears that two desires are functioning in her example: Desire 1 (Agent-Neutral Desire): that someone should write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading. Desire 2 (Agent-Relative Motivating Desire): that I be that someone (who writes a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading). Because reasons for Korsgaard are agent-neutral (public), the first desire evidently gives rise to a reason for everyone while the second gives rise to a reason for no one; it remains only a desire and as such provides merely a motivation for the person who possesses the desire. I call the first type of desire an ‘agent-neutral desire’ to capture the idea that these desires are general and are directed towards an agent-neural end. Likewise, I call the second type of desire an ‘agent-relative motivating desire,’ since it merely provides motivational force (and has no reason-giving force) for the person who has it. 9 10 11

Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 288 (direct quote). Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 288. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 289.

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In the example that Korsgaard gives regarding her ambition to write a book on Kant, everyone has an agent-neutral (public) reason to see to it that someone writes a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading. Although Korsgaard is motivated to see to it that the goal is accomplished by writing the book herself, she might also comply with the reason by encouraging someone else to write such a book. All people share the same reason to see to it that the book is written, and people can be motivated to do this in different ways. These differing agent-relative motivations do not mean that some have reasons that others do not (since these motivations are not themselves reasons). Since her considered account does not recognize objectively good ends, but only constructively public reasons, I combine a constructivist account of the genesis of reasons and Korsgaard’s interpretation of ambitions on her behalf to reveal an alternative model to the natural reading for the nature and origin of reasons of autonomy. Korsgaard’s Account Step 1’: I desire that someone write a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading (agent-neutral desire). Step 2’: I endorse that desire upon reflection. Step 3’: Everyone has a reason to see to it that someone writes a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading (agent-neutral reason). Step 4’: I desire that I be that someone (motivating desire). The reason represented in Step 3’ is supposed to be an agent-neutral (public) reason which is somehow valuable apart from the particular desires of any one agent. The content of the reason in Step 3’ reflects this change to the extent that it does not restrict the writing of a book on Kant to Korsgaard alone (who is the “me” in this example); rather, it refers to an unspecified “someone.” However, this reason still appears to be the sole property of the endorsing agent. Step 3’ reads: This gives me a reason to see to it that someone writes a book on Kant. Korsgaard is the one who has the reason to see to it that someone writes the book. Furthermore, a merely superficial repair of 3’ to include all others does not fully apprehend the problem, which begins in the first and second steps. The extension of the reason that is produced to everyone through Korsgaard’s endorsement of her desire does not appear to be licensed. This step-by-step rendering also fails to capture Korsgaard’s complete intent, since according to her interpretation of reasons of autonomy “[you] want to

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stand in a special relationship to something you think is good objectively.”12 Her discussion illuminates an important point: namely, that we can all see that there is something good about many of the objects of people’s desires, but we do not see all desires as being good. In the example she gives, there is something good about writing a good book on Kant. She indicates that this explanation of ambitions appears to suppose realism, where values exist independently of our desires.13 However, she does not attempt to explain how an agent-neutral end might exist on a constructivist theory, wherein values are created from desires. In order to supplement her alternative reading of ambitions, I briefly explain how a constructivist might understand an ‘objectively-valid’ end. On any constructivist account, including Enlightenism, we might explain the goodness of an agent-neutral end as springing from an agreement among people. As members of humanity, we can see value in pursuing certain objects of our desires. This agreement then might be used to validate those desires that each of us has to pursue them. The fact that we collectively see value in writing a good book on Kant makes it acceptable for Korsgaard to have a reason to write one. If an object of someone’s desire seems to contain no good that is understandable intersubjectively (i.e., apart from that individual’s standpoint) and the good of it is just to satisfy that individual’s longing to excel, then Korsgaard says that the desire is arguably one of vanity and thus not a reason. For example, she says of her desire to have a statue of herself erected on campus that it is “plausible” to say that it is merely vanity and thus should not be accepted as a reason.14 However, in Sources, she accepts immoral reasons for the Mafioso to commit atrocities ordered by the mob boss, so it is also clear that her account in “The Reasons We Can Share” is realist in comparison to her thoroughgoing constructivism in The Sources of Normativity. I revise Steps 1’, 2’, and 3’ to indicate how my interpretation of the objectivelyvalid collective ambitions will fare on a thoroughgoing constructivist account. Objectively-Valid Collective Ends Account Step 1”: I desire that someone write a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading and so do others (agent-neutral desire). 12 13 14

Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 288 (my emphasis). Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 289. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 289. Although it is tempting to explain the agent-neutral end this way, I do not think that Korsgaard’s account can accommodate this, nor any other explanation of an agent-neutral end that plays a role in restricting reasons. This move is inconsistent with her discussion of reasons in response to Cohen in the last few pages of The Sources of Normativity, pp. 257–258. It is also incompatible with the foundations of her account as fully constructivist.

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Step 2”: I endorse that desire upon reflection and so do others. Step 3”: This gives everyone a reason to see to it that someone writes a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading (agentneutral reason). Step 4’: I desire that I be that someone (motivating desire). On this account, the source of agent-neutral (public) reasons is in desires that are intersubjectively endorsed, where collective endorsement implies that they are objectively-valid. The agent-neutral (private) reasons that emerge on Step 3” provide the reason-giving component in people’s ambitions, while the personal component of reasons of autonomy is analyzed here as an agentrelative motivating desire, which should not be confused itself with a reason.15 Although all three accounts that I have considered for understanding reasons of autonomy render them public, the content of the reasons on each of these accounts is different. On the intuitive model I gave, the public reason is a reason for everyone to see to it that I write a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading. On Korsgaard’s account from “The Reasons We Can Share” and on my revision of it substituting “objectively-valid” reasons for “objectively-good” reasons, the public reason is that everyone should see to it that someone writes a book on Kant good enough that it will become required reading (agent-neutral reason). On the alternative model based on Korsgaard’s re-interpretation of ambitions, the reason is a reason for everyone to see to it that someone writes a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading. However, in order for this revised account to work, two specific events must occur: 1. The agent (Korsgaard, in the example we have been discussing) and others must endorse the agent-neutral desire (as seen in step 2”), transforming it into a reason (thus making it an agent-neutral reason as seen in Step 3”), and 2. The agent must refrain from endorsing the motivational desire (in step 4’), or it will become a reason itself, and then the intuitive natural account will apply to that reason. In other words, the motivation to be the one to write the book on Kant must remain an unendorsed desire, since all endorsed desires become reasons on Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing constructivist account. The revised structure of reasons of autonomy appears to be a better alternative to the intuitive account that I gave for strong constructivism since it sidesteps the problem that there are too many reasons of autonomy. First, if all the reasons that we have to help people on their personal projects come not from their agent-relative desires to do certain things, but from an agent-neutral 15

See Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 288.

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end that we have collectively endorsed, then we have perhaps not one hundred reasons to help one hundred different people to write a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading, or one million reasons to help different people make art that will contribute substantially to the art world. Instead, we have one reason to help see that a great book on Kant is written and one reason to help see that significant contributions to the art world are made. Second, the revised construction of reasons of autonomy gives us a way to escape regarding as reasons the ambitions of those who desire objects merely for the sake of vanity. We can all see the value of writing a good book on Kant; we can see the value of great art and athletic feats; but we do not see value in things that are merely projects aimed to further someone’s vanity. When people desire these things, their desires fail to acquire any genuine normative force. This account attempts to make plausible, therefore, that there are far fewer reasons of autonomy than we might have thought would arise on an account like Korsgaard’s, where all reasons are public, yet created from desires. 5

Objections to Korsgaard’s Interpretation of Reasons of Autonomy

Although Korsgaard’s alternative interpretation of ambitions and reasons of autonomy appears to resolve the initial problem that was posed, namely, that there are too many reasons and that we should not be required to help people with personal projects that appear to us to be worthless, there are several reasons to believe that her revision to the structure of reasons of autonomy fails. First, the revised structure does not seem to capture the way that we reason when we have a personal project or ambition. It does not seem to me that I think that something would be good for someone to accomplish, and that I am simply motivated to do it myself. I do not think: It would be great if someone collected stamps! I know, I want to be that person! I do not think (using Nagel’s example): It would be great if someone climbed Mount Kilimanjaro!16 I want to be that person! And I certainly do not think: It would be great if someone wrote a book on Kant good enough that it will be required reading…. I want to be that someone! One key feature that reveals that this is not an accurate description of our reasoning process is that in most ambitions, someone has already accomplished the stated goal. Someone has already written a book on Kant so good that it is required reading. (There are Henry Allison’s and Paul Guyer’s books just to name two.) Someone has already taken up the hobby of stamp-collecting, and if having a great stamp collection is a good thing that 16

Nagel, The View From Nowhere, p. 167.

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someone should do well, then there are many people who have an edge on that over me. There are already people who have climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, and so on. If it is just a good thing that someone do it, and someone has already done it, then what reason is left for me to try to do it too? We cannot claim as a defense against this charge that these ambitions are good pursuits for everyone, and so there is also a reason for me to do them, because it is simply not true that everyone should have a stamp collection, write a book on Kant, or climb Mount Kilimanjaro. The failure of this option is the reason why we call these sorts of reasons ‘reasons of autonomy’ and ‘personal projects and ambitions.’ Furthermore, it would be theoretically unappealing and dubious if we changed the “someone” in these reasons to “some people, whose number is unspecified but which includes at least one more person,” just in an effort to accommodate anyone who has the ambition. The revised account of the structure of reasons of autonomy therefore fails to show why anyone has a reason to do something that has been done before. Second, this account is inconsistent with Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing constructivism. In order for this picture to work under Korsgaard’s account of the source of reasons, it is necessary for the agent-neutral desire to be endorsed and for the agent-relative motivating desire not to be endorsed (as I indicated previously). Here I offer a series of questions aimed at showing that this is implausible: Why does the person whose ambition it is fail to endorse the motivating desire, thus removing it from consideration as a reason? Surely it seems possible for someone to endorse these sorts of personal desires, and it appears that most if not all of us do just that nearly every day of our lives. Furthermore, if the person does in fact endorse the desire, why does it fail to become a reason? The requirement for a desire to be transformed into a reason is just that it be reflectively endorsed. I can reflectively endorse my desire to become an artist, so why does it not become a reason?17 And, if someone fails to endorse a motivating desire, how can it play a part in giving the person a reason to achieve the object of that desire? It seems that the fact that it motivates reveals that the agent has at least implicitly approved of the desire as long as it is acted upon consciously, and not under compulsion or insanity.

17

The requirement that others must endorse my desire, which I proposed on behalf of Korsgaard, does not eliminate these concerns since my desire to become an artist could easily be endorsed by myself, my family, and my friends, thus creating an interpersonallyendorsed desire which should therefore become a public reason for everyone. Further­more, this problem cannot be solved by claiming that some portion of the population must endorse the desire (or even that all of the population should endorse it) before it can become a reason since then the many difficulties with relativism await.

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Finally, in The Sources of Normativity, Korsgaard permits even immoral reasons that emerge from the desires of agents (such as the Mafioso). She explicitly states that this is because the endorsement does the work. There is no “should” standing outside of our desires telling us what we can legitimately endorse. Chapter 7 examined this issue in detail and I offered my alternative constructivist account of the source of reasons: Enlightenism. Under Enlightenism, some reasons really do have legitimacy and others do not, based on what people would endorse in ideal reflection, not on actual endorsement (as in Korsgaard’s theory). The thoroughgoing constructivist has no option but to select strong constructivism and claim that all desires become public reasons when actually endorsed (from immoral desires to ambitions and even those that appear vain). The inconsistencies between Korsgaard’s accounts in “The Reasons We Can Share” and The Sources of Normativity points to the conclusion that at least one of them is wrong. Either Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing constructivist theory that reasons originate in the desires of agents is radically mistaken or her interpretation of reasons of autonomy as springing from agent-neutral ends is incorrect. Or, as I believe, they are both wrong. A more consistent and plausible constructivist account would: 1. Place limits on the ability for endorsed desires to become reasons, and 2. Enable some reasons, such as reasons of autonomy, to be private. Enlightenism is a version of moral constructivism that conforms to (1), and a weakly constructivist reading of it conforms to (2). 6

Competitive Ambitions

Notwithstanding Korsgaard’s particular theoretical commitments and the inconsistencies that her account of reasons of autonomy generates, her revised account of reasons of autonomy is unacceptable for anyone to embrace since it cannot make sense of the idea of competition. Competition is an extraordinarily significant aspect of our lives and it explains why we do many things. Many, if not most, ambitions have a competitive element. I do not just want to write a good book on Kant, I want to write the best. I do not just want to produce good art, I want it to be recognized and distinguished. Many other reasons of ambition are even more explicitly competitive. They would be nullified if we accepted Korsgaard’s account of the structure of reasons of autonomy. For example, participants in competitive games think they have reasons to win. Under Korsgaard’s account, those would be discarded. These range from sports of various kinds and degrees (including Olympic sports, professional, college, high school, elementary sports, and sports played among friends for

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fun) to musical, artistic, and other talent competitions, to the professional and non-professional games of chess, checkers, and Go, to various kinds of record-setting goals that include just about everything (as anyone who has read Guiness’ Book of World Records knows). Beyond this are the intrinsically competitive activities that comprise some of our most important life activities. There is competition for employment and distinction, for renting and buying housing, in dating and courting, and in practically every aspect of business endeavors.18 And this list is not even close to being exhaustive. Korsgaard’s revised structure for reasons of autonomy would have to phrase the agent-neutral aspects of such ambitions something like this: Someone should win this competition, to the exclusion of all others involved. Or: Someone should be better than or beat the last person who did this. But there is a problem with these kinds of descriptions of competitions. If the reason that sets the normative goal is that someone should win the competition, whatever it may be, to the exclusion of the others, and my specific goal of winning is not a reason, but simply a motive, then it seems that the goal of the reason would be best accomplished by having all of the competitors but one relinquish their motives to be the one who wins the competition. All rational competitors, under this model, would have a reason to try to help the one who is most likely to succeed to win. This, furthermore, would have an ironic impact on competitive activities, making them cooperative but without the promise of helping all of the parties involved, and thus appearing to change the very nature of competitive activities. It would, in addition, have the taxing psychological consequence of rationally requiring all but one competitor to frustrate what they would naturally call their own ambitions (which under Korsgaard’s description are their motives). This requirement is plainly too demanding and works in a way contrary to what Korsgaard’s revisionist solution was supposed to achieve. Korsgaard herself recognizes that her account eliminates competitive ambitions, but she fails to understand the unintuitive consequences. She says: If I took it seriously that my desire that I should be the one to write the book was a reason for action, then I would have a reason to prevent one of the other Kant scholars from writing her book. But in fact, neither I nor anybody else thinks I have a reason to do this, even if in competitive moments I am tempted to feel it. This is not an expression of ambition, but rather a very familiar perversion of it.19

18 19

Jennifer Scott brought these latter examples to my attention. Korsgaard, “The Reasons We Can Share,” p. 288.

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Although her account may eliminate some competitive ambitions that we think of as being unsporting from becoming reasons, it equally eliminates all competitive ambitions, including those that we find necessary and rewarding. Competitive activities are central to our lives and to our ambitions. On her account of the structure of reasons of autonomy, we have no reason to engage in actions that involve competition, regardless of whether we see them as good or bad. Korsgaard’s new approach to reasons of autonomy looks at first to be a promising alternative to the other two approaches. By reading reasons of autonomy as agent-neutral instead of as agent-relative (as on the natural reading I gave), she shows how all reasons can be public (which supports her thoroughgoing constructivism). By explaining the agent-neutral content of reasons of autonomy as springing from agent-neutral ends, rather than from agent-relative reasons which are generalized (as on the intuitive account I sketched), the account escapes difficulties with demanding that people help everyone with their ambitions. However, the revised structure does not capture the way that people actually reason, it produces conflicts and inconsistencies within Korsgaard’s account, and it cannot coherently explain the widespread and commonsensical notion of reasons that involve competition. Korsgaard’s alternative account therefore fares even worse than the intuitive account that I gave on behalf of the constructivist at the outset of this chapter (on which each person has a reason to help everyone else with the objects of their ambitions simply because they want their ambitions to be satisfied). Korsgaard’s accounts of both the source and nature of reasons are implausible and counterintuitive. The best theory will be a non-thoroughgoing one, such as Enlightenism, and it will be more plausible if it is weakly constructivist, adopting both public and private reasons.

part 3 Resolving Conflicts between Reasons



chapter 9

The Relative Strength of Reasons Intuitively, reasons appear to have varying degrees of imperative force. Some reasons seem stronger than others, like those to look for the parents of a small lost child, or to intervene with help when someone has been hit by a car and is lying injured in the street. Others, such as those involving our personal projects, seem to have less force, like my ambition to become a great artist or Bert’s desire to collect bottlecaps. In this chapter, I focus on how an ethical constructivist can make sense of the varying strength of reasons. All constructivist accounts, whether strong or weak, thoroughgoing or not, need a way of weighing reasons against each other. A moral realist can make sense of common intuitions governing the relative strength of reasons fairly easily. On a realist’s view, one might propose that feeding the needy ranks high in imperative force because helping to satisfy people’s basic human needs is intrinsically valuable. But becoming a rock star is not valuable in itself. Rather, it acquires value from an individual’s ambition. For the realist we might propose that a reason is strong just in case its object has intrinsic value, whereas a reason is stronger than another if the object of the reason has more intrinsic value or the reason plays a more effective role in obtaining an object of intrinsic value. On a constructivist account, the differing strengths of reasons cannot be due to the qualities of objects or reasons themselves. They must be due to features in us as the value-creators since constructivism maintains that all values issue from agents and are not inherent in objects or actions themselves.1 Thus, the challenge for the constructivist is to explain the strength of various reasons by their relations to agents and their mental states. Constructivism should be able to distinguish among reasons that are weak, strong, and the levels thereof theoretically, and those theoretical distinctions should result in practical differences in what is required of us in response to these reasons, as well. In addition, some flexibility for personality and life-focus are important for a theory of reasons to capture. I argue that when a strong constructivist attempts to capture any significant differences in the strengths of various reasons, the account ends up either 1 Christine Korsgaard sums up the implications of constructivism when she states that “[I]f human beings decided that human life was worthless, then it would be worthless.” The Sources of Normativity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), p. 254.

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espousing realism at some level or else lapsing into relativism. Without a satisfying criterion for distinguishing the strengths of various reasons, the account has little to offer. I conclude that these considerations should move theorists to consider alternatives to a thoroughgoing constructivist account of reasons in favor of one that has at least some minimal (non-ethical) realist elements, such as Enlightenism. Enlightenism, unlike thoroughgoing strong constructivism, enables people to set ideal standards of reflection on relevant identities. In the next chapter, I examine four criterions for assessing the strength or ‘depth’ of reasons when they conflict with each other. In later chapters, I engage Buddhist philosophy to dispel some of the remaining concerns one might have with the unintuitive features of the consequences of strength of reasons in Enlightenism. 1

Intuitive Differences in the Depth of Reasons

We all, ethicists as well as non-ethicists, tend to agree that some reasons and obligations are more important than others; it is more or less wrong to fail to act in accordance with some reasons as compared with others. Among different kinds of concerns, we see meeting the basic needs of others as particularly important. Although in our daily lives we acknowledge a very limited number of reasons to act for the benefit of others, and we largely ignore the normative grip of most of these reasons, when they are brought into the awareness of morally-minded individuals, people respond by acknowledging the force of the reasons upon them. I have in mind here that as we go about our lives we usually pursue our own interests and try to make sure that we do not directly harm people or interfere with their pursuits. But when catastrophes like the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 and the Haitian earthquake of 2010 hit, or individuals take ethics classes, for instance, the fact that people are suffering everywhere is brought to people’s attention. They are then more likely respond to the outcries of the needy with sympathy and devotions of attention, time, and money. When we see the impact of devastation upon people, animals, and even the environment, we acknowledge the corresponding depth of the obligations that ask for us to help those who are in need. Other things we almost universally acknowledge as having less urgency and importance. Among these are what have been called people’s ‘personal projects.’ A homeless person on the street might excite my sympathy and thus magnify my moral duty towards him and his fellows, but the salesperson at the perfume counter at Macy’s has a project of selling to me and I typically

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do not feel sympathetically towards her. My desire to buy perfume from her is therefore usually based on my desire to buy perfume instead of on my desire to forward her personal end of selling more perfume and increasing her sales and status. This might be thought to demonstrate a difference in the depth of the obligations that correspond with human needs verses those of personal projects. In the case of the perfume salesperson, it seems that our obligation to help her to sell perfume is either non-existent or of extremely shallow depth. This intuitive difference between the imperative force of obligations corresponding to people’s basic needs verses their personal projects is something that any theory of reasons should be able to capture. I call this difference a ‘difference between reasons,’ since these reasons tend to be categorized as different kinds of reasons. However, not all personal projects appear to be so shallow. In order to demonstrate the difference between other types of personal projects that we think are more worthy of our help and what I will call ‘mere personal projects,’ consider a different salesperson scenario in which a person is selling vacuums door-to-door. He is working on commission only, lugging his supplies in the hot and humid summer weather with a desperate look on his face and a pleading voice. His project is to sell and make more money – which is the same as the perfume salesperson’s – but generally people feel more of an obligation to buy from the latter person over the former even though vacuums are usually considerably more expensive than perfume. This cannot be accounted for by the psychological impact of proximity and face-to-face requests since both of them are making a direct request. Rather, I think that there is a difference between the two that implies an actual difference in the depth of obligation in each case. The difference I have in mind that separates personal projects from mere personal projects stems from the supposition that in the case of the door-to-door salesperson, there seems to be something more than simply the desire to make more money behind his actions. Perhaps this is the only job he could get; it is his only source of income, and, maybe because we know how horrible the work is, we think that he must have unusually bad circumstances in order for him to have to demean himself to take a job like that. We think of his needs as more important, and the obligation that we feel towards him is deeper. This explanation, which seems plausible, retains the distinction between the general depth of reasons that involve human needs and those that are reflections of mere personal projects. However, it brings to light a further difference in the imperative force of those reasons that spring from personal projects where the project can be seen as a way of meeting a basic need (as opposed to those that are mere personal projects). This is just one difference

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within the set of personal projects; it is likely that there are many more. The different depths that reasons display within each of the general kinds (e.g., personal projects and moral reasons) is ‘a difference within reasons.’ In this chapter I examine two ways of understanding these differences. A realist about value can account for these differences quite easily by claiming that reasons vary according to the presence and amount of intrinsic value that is embodied in them. A constructivist about value, on the other hand, must account for the differences in the depth of various reasons by explaining how they are related to us in different ways. First, I briefly explain how I think a realist view can naturally and convincingly capture our intuitions regarding the depth of reasons. I then spend some time developing a constructivist understanding of the depth of reasons using both Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing strong constructivism and my own constructivist account, Englightenism, which embraces a limitation on reason-hood and which can be understood as including private as well as public reasons. 2

A Realist View

A realist account can easily make sense of both of the intuitions governing the relative depth of reasons. First, in order to differentiate between moral reasons and those reasons involving personal projects, it is natural to separate reasons into two groups: those with more or less value in themselves due to a characteristic in them or their objects that imbues them with value, and those that have value only in relation to the people who value them.2 Human welfare is intrinsically valuable, and so the satisfaction of basic needs, such as those for food, shelter, and even love and respect, are also intrinsically valuable. Reasons to meet the basic needs of others are therefore agent-neutral (public), giving everyone reasons regardless of their individual standpoints, interests, and inclinations. The suffering caused by natural disasters, sickness, and poverty therefore give everyone reasons to help people who are the victims of such circumstances. Personal projects, on the other hand, have value due to the satisfaction of desires or ambitions in agents who have those projects. They are thus agent-relative (private), giving reasons only to the agents who have the goal in question.3 2 This account is based on Thomas Nagel’s in The View From Nowhere. 3 As elsewhere in this book, agent-neutral reasons have also been called ‘objective’ or ‘public’ reasons, and agent-relative reasons have likewise been named ‘subjective’ and ‘private.’ Realists like Nagel prefer the terms ‘agent-neutral’ and ‘agent-relative.’ I therefore enlist those

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The difference in the depth of reasons within personal projects can be captured by this view, as well. Many personal projects play an important role in an individual’s attainment of something that is intrinsically valuable, as compared with what I earlier called ‘mere personal projects,’ which do not involve any objects of intrinsic value. Personal projects that are not merely projects can thus be seen as a sort of hybrid, having two components. There is the personal project itself, which is agent-relative, and there are the needs of the person that will be met by the personal project, which are often agent-neutral. If we can easily help a person to meet his needs by aiding in the pursuit of his personal project, then as long as aiding in his project does not interfere with our other more important reasons, we have an agent-neutral reason to help him with his project.4 So it is not that the vacuum salesperson’s project itself seems more important than the perfume salesperson’s. It is that we see an agent-neutral reason to help people who are struggling to make ends meet; we see him as a person in need and we think that we might be able to help meet his need through purchasing from him. This will happen with other kinds of personal projects, as well. For example, we might see art, or creative activity, as an intrinsically worthy pursuit and thus we will be motivated to buy from the street-artist; we do not buy simply because we feel moved to help her out with her project, but because we see something else that is intrinsically worthy behind the project. Some cases will involve essentially moral values and call for the observation of and aiding in meeting our own and others’ needs. Other instances will be concerned with primarily aesthetic or intellectual values. The defender of the agent-relativity of personal projects might then claim that in cases where there is a personal project and the project embodies or helps bring about something that is intrinsically valuable, that there are two reasons that are operating: the agent-relative and the agent-neutral. This explanation also helps capture why (e.g., with personal projects that have agent-neutral reasons terms in my discussion of realism. This is because they correlate to objective ‘agent-neutral’ ends or subjective ‘agent-relative’ ends. Constructivists do not have objective and subjective ends since values are not in the objects or actions themselves, but rather in our mental states and attitudes towards ourselves and our actions. Korsgaard has used both terms interchangeably in different works, but in The Sources of Normativity she uses the terms ‘public’ and ‘private.’ I therefore will continue to use her terms primarily when I refer to constructed reasons. 4 If aiding in his project does interfere with more important reasons, then we might either say that we do not have an agent-neutral reason to help (since it is only one way among many to provide aid), or alternatively, we might claim that there is an agent-neural aspect to his personal project, but that since it interferes with other reasons that it does not provide others with an ‘all-things-considered reason.’

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that complement them), the people who possess the project seem to nearly always have more reason to pursue the project than outsiders do.5 This view of the agent-relativity of personal projects thus gives a simple answer to the differences in depth both between and within the reasons. A reason is deep just in case its object has intrinsic value; a reason is deeper than another just in case the object of the reason has more intrinsic value, or the reason plays a more important role in obtaining an object of intrinsic value. So, giving aid to disaster relief and buying a vacuum from the vacuum salesperson are both deep reasons, but giving aid to disaster relief is deeper than buying a vacuum because it meets a more direct need in a more immediate way. Buying perfume from a salesperson at Macy’s can be seen as either having or lacking any depth, depending on the circumstances involved in the particular case. How the personal project contributes to the needs and desires of the agent are thus of great importance in determining whether the project gives any reasons at all to other agents (and when it does, how much relative imperative force it gives to them). 3

Two Constructivist Views

The constructivist approach, in contrast to the realist, cannot appeal to real differences in the values that objects or actions have to differentiate the depth of reasons. For the constructivist, all values issue from agents and are not inherent in objects or actions themselves. Korsgaard sums up the implications of constructivism when she states that “[I]f human beings decided that human life was worthless, then it would be worthless.”6 Both Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing strong constructivism and my theory, Enlightenism, agree on this, as any metaethical constructivist account necessitates. In constructivism, reasons have their source in the mental states of agents and emerge through a process that validates them for use among people. A constructivist theory must therefore explain the depth of various reasons by their relations to agents. A realist account can capture the intuitive divide between reasons for pursuing personal projects and reasons to meet the basic needs of humans by claiming that 5 If happiness is an intrinsic good, then nearly all reasons have agent-neutral components, since most people obtain some degree of happiness from the pursuit of even the most seemingly worthless projects. However, the agent-neutral component of these reasons will not be very strong. Some reasons will nevertheless seem to remain as mere personal projects, such as posthumous fame or other wishes of the now deceased, as long as they do not aim at something that is intrinsically valuable. 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 254.

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mere personal projects have only agent-relative value for the valuing agent; they can explain the varying depth of reasons that are agent-neutral by the degree of real value from an objective agent-neutral end that a reason can help realize. An account that denies realism, on the other hand, may appear to be forced to accept that all reasons are agent-relative or private. Constructivism claims that a third alternative is available that denies realism yet makes at least some reasons agent-neutral or public (which is the preferred term used throughout this book for constructed objectively-valid reasons). On Korsgaard’s constructivism, all reasons are by their nature public. Korsgaard offers several arguments to support her theory of their publicity which I analyzed in Part 1.7 On her account, reasons begin as desires in the minds of individuals and are created through the reflective endorsement of those desires by agents. Since reasons are by nature public on her account, however, the reasons that emerge from the endorsed desires of individuals have normative significance for everyone, and not just for the desiring agents. As discussed in Part 2, this means that every desire that is reflectively endorsed by an agent thus gives everyone a reason to help the agent achieve the objects of her desire. On this view, there is no categorical distinction between the reasons we have in relation to personal projects and other types of reasons since all reasons are public. This view thus appears not to be able to capture the first intuitive difference in the imperative force between reasons involving personal projects and moral reasons since these reasons do not have a substantial difference between them, but simply one of subject matter. The different depths of these reasons must therefore be explained by appealing to differences in the degree of depth that a reason has. Rather than appealing to some characteristic that the reasons either have or lack, a strong constructivist needs to refer to characteristics of which we have more or less in our mental states or in the reflective process we undertake as reason-creators. On Enlightenism, legitimate reasons are constructed from what people would endorse in ideal reflection on their relevant identities and desires. It uses counterfactual reasons since people are often not under conditions which encourage truly thoughtful reflection. Actual endorsement is a misleading indicator of what the person would endorse had they the opportunity to reflect well on their relevant identities. My account also necessitates that people reflect on their moral identity and that they eliminate any desires that do not 7 Korsgaard argues extensively for the publicity of reasons in The Sources of Normativity. There, she strikes an analogy between reasons and language and claims that Wittgenstein’s private language argument shows that reasons, as well as language, cannot be private (agentrelative). I argue that her arguments and variations of them are invalid in Part 1.

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pass that reflective test. The more enlightened people are, the more consistent their actual actions will be with their reasons (those desires that they would endorse in ideal reflection). Enlightenism can readily distinguish between moral reasons and personal projects, or differences between reasons. Moral reasons are public and issue from a necessary identity. They set limitations for reasons that emerge from contingent identities. If I cannot respect people while willing an action that arises from one of my other practical identities, then a desire to do that action cannot become a reason. That action is impermissible because I would not have endorsed it had I ideally reflected on my necessary moral identity. In many cases the moral identity will prohibit creating reasons for lying, stealing, cheating, deceit, manipulation, and various other actions that exhibit disrespect for the individuals involved in them. As I discussed in previous chapters, however, not all such cases will be automatically eliminated, since people’s situations and understandings of what respect entails are different. There may be conflicts between respecting one person and respecting another and these conflicts will need to be resolved by thinking about one’s other practical identities, as well. If morality prohibits me from doing something, then I have an obligation to not perform that action. Necessary identities give rise to both reasons and obligations, whereas contingent identities only appear to give rise to reasons. This is another difference in kind that emerges from these two sorts of practical identity (the necessary and the contingent). Mere personal projects, on the other hand, as I argued in Chapter 8, should be interpreted as private, governing only those who have the desires in question. Certain people may have reasons to help individuals with their ambitions, but those reasons will also be private, and will spring from their own personal attachments. For example, a vested interest in the achievement of some goal or a special relationship with the person who has the ambition are good private reasons to help someone achieve their ambition. Other personal projects may give rise to both private and public reasons, such as in the cases I examined earlier in this chapter, wherein a person’s project is practically essential to meeting their basic needs. Reasons of autonomy themselves do not imply that others have reasons to help people with their ambitions. It is just that reasons of autonomy appear to be in close connection with some people’s basic needs. Some personal projects give us reasons to help people who are using them to meet particularly deep needs, perhaps. Differences within reasons still present a challenge on my account, however. I see an opera cake at a bakery and I forget I am on a low sugar diet. I want the opera cake and I want to maintain my commitment to eat less sugar. The first desire is conscious to me at the moment I see the cake, but the second is out

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of my present awareness. If it were in my awareness, I might reason that the opera cake is special and I feel like I deserve this little treat, so I have a reason to eat it. I endorse eating it. But I also endorse staying on my diet. Maybe I debate it with myself. I do not know whether it will be worth the splurge. How good is the opera cake, I inquire at the French bakery. Amazing, I am assured. How much sugar is it in? How much will I eat? Will I “fall off the wagon” and eat many more sweets in the upcoming days if I splurge today? In other words, will I regret it because of some psychological reaction, even if I think I should not regret just this one action? I have a reason to eat it and a reason not to eat it. Now, which is the greater reason? This is a relatively mundane conflict of reasons. But these sorts of conflicts come up repeatedly in our lives. You have promised someone you will go to their party but you have work to do. What should you do? You have reasons both to go to the party and to do your work. Which is stronger? In all ethical accounts there should be some answer to these questions as to how to resolve the difficulties of deciding between conflicting reasons. In examining how a constructivist might account for our intuitions regarding the depth of reasons, it is first important to try to gain an understanding of what a particularly deep or shallow reason might look like on such an account. In this vein, an identification or development of a criterion for distinguishing deep and non-deep reasons is preferable. Second, even once those reasons that are deep are successfully divided from those that are not (which is to say that they should be conceptually distinguished on at least a rudimentarily level from each other), these differences must translate into the sphere of practical action, allowing us to develop expectations that are associated with reasons that vary along the dimension of depth. In other words, the theory should distinguish among obligations that are non-deep, deep, and the levels thereof theoretically, and those theoretical distinctions should result in practical differences in what is required of us in response to these reasons, as well. In the next chapter, I argue that the constructivist can successfully account for our intuitions regarding the depth of reasons, though the best accounts will espouse a substantial degree of moral relativism. In the final chapter, I argue that the relativism within constructivism can be largely resolved by incorporating certain Buddhist concepts into Enlightenism.

chapter 10

Criterions for Distinguishing Deeper Reasons Reasons are essentially action-guiding. In order for them to properly prescribe certain actions over others, there must be differences in the relative strength (or depth) of those reasons in relation to the person who has them. Both the realist and the constructivist are challenged to provide a compelling account to answer this demand. In this chapter, I develop and assess four criterions that people can apply to decide between competing reasons on a constructivist moral theory. On a realist account, there is a simple method to capture theoretical differences in the strength of reasons. Since reasons for valuing something rely on the value inherent in the thing (whether it is a person, object, or action), the value in a reason is inherited from the value of the thing. However, it is unclear how a realist can assess practical differences between reasons, since how much inherent worth something has is nearly impossible to apprehend. Ultimately, all realist accounts depend on people’s intuitions of how valuable some object, being, or action is in comparison to other options. A reliance on intuitions is a weakness of realism since there is no decisive way of selecting between two people’s intuitions that both appear to be well-reasoned, consistent, and plausible. In contrast, the relative strength of reasons is neither obvious nor straightforward in constructivism (even theoretically). Since things do not have objective value apart from the mental states of individuals, the realist’s method of distinguishing between the strengths of various reasons is unavailable to constructivists. Instead, reasons are dependent on people’s mental states, and because individuals have different psychologies, the existence and strength of reasons will vary from person to person. Unlike subjectivism, constructivism cannot simply defer to a person’s feelings or preferences. Instead, a rational process legitimizes reasons in constructivism, thereby rendering them objectively-valid. A similar process should therefore underlie constructivism’s explanation of the differences in strengths of competing reasons. Thus far in our discussion of constructivism, we have yet to develop such a criterion that can be used to systematically select certain reasons over others. In this chapter, I propose and evaluate the following four accounts for differentiating the strength of reasons in constructivism: 1. The group size account, 2. The efficacy account, 3. The entrenchment account, and 4. The concern

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account. On the group size account, a reason is stronger than another if it involves a smaller community. In the efficacy account, a reason is strong for a person if the person is effective at meeting the objective of the reason, and a reason is stronger than another for a person just in case the person is more effective at meeting the objective of that reason than she is at meeting the objective of another reason. On both the entrenchment and concern accounts, a reason is strong if it is central to one’s identity and a reason is stronger than another just in case it is more central to one’s conception of oneself. How we interpret what it means for a reason to be central to one’s identity distinguishes these two accounts. On the entrenchment account, a reason is more central to one’s identity the more deeply entrenched it is within one’s conception of oneself, where entrenchment is measured by how difficult it is for one to reject it. On the concern account, a reason is more central to one’s identity the more the person is concerned about how acting or failing to act on the reason will impact one’s conception of oneself. I argue that constructivism can account for differences in the strength of reasons, yet it fails to do so in accordance with some of our deeply held intuitions that spring from realist assumptions. The concern account appears to be the best of the four alternatives. However, there are still considerable unintuitive consequences that arise from it. First, the theory does not judge reasons to help the needy as stronger than reasons to become a rock star; rather, it permits the actions of selfishly ambitious people, even when it means ignoring the basic needs of other people. Second, not only does it fail to give selfishly ambitious people reasons to feed the needy, but it appears to give them reasons to continue being selfish. Finally, it does not judge the actions or characters of morally-minded people, like Gandhi, to be better than those of selfishly ambitious people, like Picasso. I explain how Enlightenism resolves these issues in this and the next two chapters. 1

Defining Depth in Reasons

In answering the question of which obligations are strong (or what Korsgaard calls ‘deep’) and which are not, I first turn to some characterizations that Korsgaard uses. She states that “Obligation is always unconditional, but it is only when it concerns really important matters that it is deep.”1 Although the idea of ‘importance’ gestures at what we intuitively mean by the notion of depth, it does not help us to identify or understand depth since it is simply 1 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 103.

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an intuitive synonym. The most it does is resonate more with people and thus help them (at least in principle) grasp the concept of ‘deep’ in reference to an obligation. Korsgaard offers more substantive indications of what distinguishes deep from non-deep obligations, however. When describing personal relationships (in contrast to one’s relationship to all of humanity) she says that “the thought of oneself as a certain person’s friend or lover or parent or child can be a particularly deep form of practical identity. There is no obvious reason why our relationship to humanity at large should always matter more to you than your relationship to some particular person.”2 And “A personal relationship is a Kingdom of Two – two who are committed to being in a special degree ends for one another.”3 This tells us that at least one example or form of deep obligations on her constructivist account results from closer and more committed relationships than the ones that we have with everyone else in the moral universe. Although she does not explicitly say so, this ties in very nicely with her entire account of the construction of obligations from desires that are endorsed by agents. On her account, the conceptualization of ourselves under any identity implies the acceptance of the broader identity that we have as moral beings. She explains that each of our identities creates obligations for us, some of which conflict with others. I have an identity as not only a human being but also as a teacher, philosopher, writer, and artist. These are all activities that I have chosen to actively pursue in my life, and I have correspondingly deep obligations to fulfill the expectations that I associate with the activities. I also have commitments to particular people in virtue of the roles that I have chosen or under which I cannot help but describe myself. I am a teacher, which means not only that I instruct with knowledge, clarity, and insight, but that I relate to the students in ways that will enable them to learn better or more easily. I have deeper commitments to my students than I do to just any other human being. I am a friend to chosen others and a daughter and sibling of other unchosen others. These roles, too, whether chosen or not, if they play a part in how I see myself and how I relate to others in my life, will also mean that I have different and deeper commitments to my friends, mom, and sister than to just any other human. This, I believe, is an understanding of what distinguishes deep from non-deep obligations categorically, if what is meant by a deep relationship is that it is one that involves more commitment than a mere moral one.

2 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 128. 3 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 127.

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However, this cannot be an illuminating analytic definition of depth, nor can it function as a criterion since it is circular. A committed relationship just is one that involves more and deeper obligations than less committed or uncommitted relationships. So, of course, a deep obligation will be one embodying more commitment than a non-deep one. If one has not already ascertained an identity, relationship, or obligation as being deep, and wonders whether it is indeed deep or not, then the concept of commitment will be unhelpful in recognizing those relationships and identities that should be observed as deep (and therefore, necessitating more commitment). A way to meet this challenge of circularity is to define what a committed relationship is like that does not depend already on the depth of the obligations involved in that relationship. I consider the four different criterions that I mentioned at the start of this chapter for the strength or depth of reasons. For each of these, I explain how they might be supported by a constructivist account and then offer objections to the criterions in order to better assess them against each other. The four accounts are: 1. The group size account, 2. The efficacy account, 3. The entrenchment account, and 4. The concern account. 2

The Group Size Account

First, one might claim that if a personal relationship involves more commitment than a moral one, then the more personal the relationship, or the more it necessarily involves the person or people, the deeper the obligations are that are associated with the relationship. A group of two individuals necessitates both of those individuals for there to be an interpersonal relationship at all, so both individuals are more necessary to the relationship than they would be in a larger group. A proposed criterion may therefore be that an obligation is deep if it involves a smaller-than-humanity group; an obligation is deeper than another one just in case it involves a smaller portion of individuals. I call this ‘the group size account.’ A little reflection will quickly reveal that the group size account is an inadequate criterion as it is open to obvious objections. First, it would mean that all smaller-than-humanity obligations are deeper and thus carry more normative force than all-of-humanity/moral obligations. Thus, whenever the two come into conflict, smaller-than-humanity reasons should always take precedence over moral reasons. But this is plainly wrong since it would relegate morality to what we do in our spare time. Second, it would mean that the incidental numbers of groups to whom people are related give those groups more or less importance just on the basis

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of the numbers of individuals involved. For example, usually political groups are larger than family groups, and this might be used to support this criterion since it is generally recognized that people have more intense obligations to their families than they do to their political affiliations. However, if one is in a grassroots political campaign for something that is starting with a membership of only three, and one’s family is made up of six individuals, then just in virtue of the smaller numbers of the political group, the obligations related to that group would be deeper and carry more normative weight than the obligations to one’s own family. Furthermore, if the political group’s membership base increases to seven members, then the obligations related to each of the groups that one has switch in terms of their normative force. But the amount of people in people’s families or political groups do not seem to influence how committed they should be to either group, nor do they reflect how committed people actually are to these groups. One might also look at differences in the size of one particular group across a sampling of various individuals and come to the same conclusion. Just because my family has three members besides myself and Jennifer’s family is comprised of five others does not imply that I, therefore, have deeper obligations to my family than she does to hers. One might think that in certain scenarios it is important to note group size, since, for instance, in the political movement example, the larger the group is, the more likely they are to exercise a decisive influence on the nation. In this case, since the size of the group affects its efficacy, there seems to be a heavier burden on individuals to contribute. However, one might also argue that the larger the group is, the less important any one person’s contribution is, since the burden of the tasks involved fall upon more people and they are thus dispersed more thinly. These factors may influence how heavy one perceives one’s obligations to be in certain circumstances, but group size is an inadequate criterion when used alone. 3

The Efficacy Account

It may be proposed that the one’s personal efficacy in a group and participation in its goal are better indicators of the depth of a person’s obligations than the size of a group. I call the second criterion ‘the efficacy account,’ which states that an obligation is deep for a person if the person exercises an effective influence on the group, its members, or its goals, and an obligation is deeper than another one for a person just in case the person exercises with greater efficacy and influence on the group, its members, or its goals. However, the personal efficacy criterion, whether it is used alone or in tandem with the group size

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criterion, also leads to unacceptably unintuitive results regarding the depth of our obligations. There appear to be several factors that make people more or less efficacious in meeting goals. The first is the ease of meeting the goal. If the goal is fairly small, then people have a better chance at meeting it with their efforts. Obtaining a diverse bottle-cap collection is much easier than achieving world peace, alleviating hunger, protecting children from abuse, or even cultivating in oneself an attitude of compassion towards other beings. But collecting bottle-caps intuitively produces less-deep reasons than any of moral goals that I stated. Another consideration in determining how efficacious a person will be in meeting a goal is the particular talents that the person has which contribute to meeting the goal. Insensitive artists, under this description, would therefore have more of a reason to produce great artwork than they do to be kind to others; ruthless investors would have more of a reason to invest without moral conscience than they do to be socially responsible, and so on. It is clear that taking both the ease of meeting the goal and the talents of the person into consideration together cannot make this criterion intuitively appealing as a way of differentiating the depth of the reasons that we have. Since many moral concerns are oftentimes much harder to meet, and most of us do not by nature possess the character of moral saints, then this criterion would conclude that most non-moral reasons are deeper than most moral reasons. Like the group size criterion, it unattractively and unintuitively minimizes the force of moral concerns upon us that appear to most of us to loom quite large. 4

Centrality to Identity: The Entrenchment Account

A better criterion, and one that accords more with a constructivist agenda, uses instead the centrality of an identity, relationship, or obligation within a person’s overall set of values. Under this criterion, an obligation is deep if it is central to one’s identity and an obligation is deeper than another just in case it is more central to one’s conception of oneself. It is imperative, then, to have a measure of the centrality of an identity, relationship, or obligation. I offer two distinct ways of doing this. I discuss the first here and the second in the next section. One way to determine the centrality of an identity is by measuring how deeply entrenched it is within one’s conception of oneself, or how difficult it is for one to reject it. The entrenchment account explains that an identity, relationship, or obligation is central, and thus deep, if it is entrenched. It is more

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central, and thus deeper than another identity, relationship, or obligation, just in case it is more entrenched. I have adapted the idea of entrenchment from W.V.O. Quine, who used the illustration of a ‘web of beliefs’ to capture why certain beliefs (which we call ‘true’) are simply more entrenched, or harder for us to reject, than others. For example, it is extremely difficult for us to reject the existence of a physically external world, the law of non-contradiction, and that we are thinking things. These propositions are, on Quine’s account, neither true nor false, however; they are merely deeply entrenched beliefs. Like the ‘web of beliefs,’ a constructivist might say that the depth of the obligations involved with the person’s identities depends on their relation to other roles in a ‘web of identities.’4 So, we might conjecture that there is no value that is ‘real’ or ‘correct,’ but there are values that are more or less entrenched in our particular value systems. Certain roles are more ‘deeply entrenched,’ which is not to say that they are more important objectively or more accurate (whatever that may mean), but that they are less easily removed from one’s overall identity or complex of identities. If removed, these identities will necessitate more changes among other identities, forcing the person, through consistency, to revise or dismiss other identities (and thus do more overall harm to the totality of identities that make up the person). The idea of conservation of a person’s set of values is important in explaining the entrenchment account, since without the requirement of conserving our overall identities, we would have no motivation to prioritize those values that are more difficult for us to reject over those that are easier for us to reject. This conception of depth therefore relativizes the force of obligations to each person’s set of identities. The strength of the obligations involved will not vary directly with the size of the group to whom the obligation is directed, nor with one’s personal efficacy, so moral concerns will not always be non-deep or lessdeep than smaller-than-humanity non-moral obligations. Whereas familial identities will be more central than other identities for many people, political identities will play a more important role than familial ones for others. Many people, for example, who have sacrificed their lives in various revolutionary movements like the French Revolution, American Revolution, and Communist Revolution can be interpreted as justifiably sacrificing their lives 4 Sharon Street uses the illustration of a web to identify her constructivist position in her paper “Constructivism about Reasons.” Street’s constructivism is more radical than Korsgaard’s in its relativism as Street denies that anyone has any necessary identity. Her theory thus roadblocks Korsgaard’s argument that intends to show that we all have moral obligations since we all have the necessary identity of being a member of humanity.

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for political causes.5 The depth of one’s obligations depends on how people see themselves and not on their efficacy in meeting some goal. This criterion of entrenchment in one’s overall identity is non-circular, illuminating, plausible, and cohesive with the constructivist viewpoint. In fact, the entrenchment account makes sense of how people prioritize many moral reasons over others. The identity as a member of humanity is much harder to reject than many of our other identities, such as those involving our hobbies, our profession, or even our families. We can imagine ourselves pursuing different hobbies, occupying a different profession, and even having a different family, but it is much harder, and maybe even impossible, to imagine that we are not people. However, the entrenchment account does have a few serious drawbacks. Most importantly, entrenchment more accurately tracks the actual psychology of individuals rather than illuminating people’s most precious identities. For example, it is common that people have deeply entrenched identities that elevate themselves above others and separate people into divisive groups (so as to preserve their own good feelings about themselves with as little psychological work as possible). Thus, racism, sexism and fascism prove to be relatively enduring traits among people. Such traits are likely to remain entrenched without rigorous and active attention to the causes and beliefs underlying them. The entrenchment account would not give a sexist, racist, or otherwise bigoted individual a reason to change in most circumstances. Likewise, the entrenchment account would not give people a reason to move towards a unified vision of truth on any subject on which the person has particularly entrenched beliefs. Not just politicians, but physicists, mathematicians, philosophers, and others who are already psychologically motivated to verify their own theories and discount evidence and reasons against them, would have no normative reason outside their own psychologies to seek objectivity in evidence and unity among their deeply divided groups if the entrenchment 5 Some people will have played a part in revolutions for purposes like the expansion of wealth, fame, freedom, and prosperity to groups of individuals who were at that time virtually neglected. However, many others appear to align themselves with political groups not essentially for the political group’s ideal, but instead for the political group’s image or for other subconscious reasons of attraction or enculturation. It is debatable whether these people are the same as those who have prioritized political groups over their families. In any case, it may be persuasively argued that ideological reasons for joining and supporting a political movement, at least in part, constitute the movement itself since politics is about influence in society and addressing societal concerns. Therefore, regardless of the reasons for which someone joins, if that political group exercises practical authority for action in someone’s identity, that political group is an identity that is among those that may be categorized as deep within a person’s complex of identities.

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account is correct. Thus, the entrenchment account seems to give people with deeply held destructive and inconsistent identities and commitments no reason to change or improve. One might respond that sexism, racism, and the like are less deep than moral obligations, since our gender and race identities are less central to us (and easier to reject) than our identities as members of humanity. This brings up an important question regarding where the moral identity is situated in people’s webs of identities. Must the identity of someone as a moral agent always be placed at the center of a person’s web? If it is true that everyone must accept the moral identity or be inconsistent (since the moral identity is entailed by the acceptance of any other identity) then if the moral identity is removed completely, no other identity can exist. But whether that argument means that it is in practice harder for a person to reject the moral identity than other identities is an open question. On a constructivist account, the force of reasons comes from one’s understanding of them. Reasons are created not from logic but from seeing them as inescapable components of oneself and from our communication with others. Korsgaard herself asserts that the moral identity is not always the deepest form of identity. Recall that she says, “there is no obvious reason why our relationship to humanity at large should always matter more to you than your relationship to some particular person.”6 In summary, the entrenchment account is a psychological account, not a normative account of logical entailment relationships. It is possible to develop an account of the strength of reasons wherein logical entailment relationships ground the normativity of reasons. That kind of account must accept realism about logic and rationality (which is already a part of my theoretical commitments). However, interpreting the entrenchment account in terms of logical entailment is still not a good idea for a constructivist. In constructivism, agents create their reasons from subjective mental states under certain rational processes. If the processes are what reveal people’s reasons to them, regardless of their subjective mental states, then the account is realist, not constructivist. The specific mental states of individuals must make a difference. Therefore, on constructivism an account of the strength of reasons cannot automatically place the moral identity at the center of one’s web of identities. How many logical entailments people accept between identities will depend on to what extent the reflectors are rational and whether they see their rational identity as the hardest among all of them to reject. Although it is not possible to sensibly reject one’s identity as a member of humanity (and therefore, presumably one’s identities as a rational agent and as a moral agent), it 6 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 128.

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is quite likely that many people’s strongest commitments will issue from other identities. As much we admire martyrs, our admiration does not entail that everyone should strive to be a martyr. On the face of it, it seems that most of us have more entrenched identities involving our personal relationships and activities than we do to just anyone. Regardless of whether one wishes to be a Gandhi, a good citizen, or just a good parent, the constructivist can explain how the moral identity is entrenched, but entrenched to different extents for different individuals (because our moral reasons will vary with both the focus and extent of our concerns that are connected to humanity as such). The entrenchment account for marking the strength of reasons is good insofar as it is consistent with constructivism and permits variation, but it has some unintuitive and unattractive features. It does not give people who are bigoted a reason to change, or even to prefer morality over sexism, racism, and other prejudicial commitments. This is because it tracks psychological inclinations, and it is therefore more apt to inherit prevalent psychological biases. Some biases seem embedded in human nature, others are genetic or developmental, and yet others arise from the various ways people are educated and nurtured. If psychological inclinations regarding the hardest to reject identities diverge from what we think of as our most central identities, then the entrenchment account is wrong. There is a better account, I believe. 5

Centrality to Identity: The Concern Account

On the concern account, centrality to one’s identity does not depend on how difficult it is for one to reject an identity in comparison to others. Instead, it depends on how much concern the person has for the identity in question. On the concern account, some of the entrenchment account’s sticky issues related to the way it affirms people’s biased psychological inclinations dissolve. Whereas something being psychologically difficult to reject depends more on a person’s rigidity, indoctrination, and conditioning, concern seems to emanate more centrally from people’s natures as humans and animals. Therefore, instead of dividing people by personality style and how they are encultured, people are united through something we all share – our sense of concern for the various things that seem to make our lives worth living. That we link our concerns to having worthy lives shows also how closely we feel the connection is between our sense of caring and our values. Entrenchment and concern diverge since a person can find something difficult to reject without having much concern for it. For example, I find it hard to reject my practical identity as a physical being, but I would not be too bothered if my physicality was an illusion and my experiences were had by a

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non-material mind or soul. Others may care a great deal if that was the case because of the implications it has on other practical identities for which they care. Perhaps it would imply to some people that their arguments for atheism are misguided; if non-material beings existed, or if they were immaterial beings themselves, their lives may be radically changed. The concern account also appears to track more accurately the perceived centrality of our moral identities better than the entrenchment account does. The entrenchment account seems to get the significance of the moral identity wrong, even from a personal standpoint. People who are more risk averse will be less likely to stray from the values they were raised in, and this will often come at the cost of inheriting prejudices and antiquated notions. If they therefore have no reason to change, but rather to continue to deepen those identities, it moves them further from rationality, discovery, and potentially morality. Consider another example of how the concern account is better than the entrenchment account. It is at least as hard to reject that we are living beings and material objects as it is to reject that we are members of humanity. So, under the entrenchment account we would have deeper obligations associated with those identities than with our moral and familial identities. However, under the concern account how deep people’s obligations are will vary depending on how much concern they have for other living beings, material objects, and humans. Most people (and other species) have selfpreservation instincts that extend to their like others. However, some people love animals with a heart at least as strong as other humans. In these cases, those people would have just of strong of reasons to respect and help animals as they do towards other people. People can be convinced either by experiences or by arguments to care more or less for other living beings and material objects. It is the person’s actual concern at the time given for a particular identity that shifts that identity into a more or less central role. The concern account accords very well with constructivism as it takes seriously the sort of relativism that is embedded in the idea of reasons emerging as the product of endorsed desires. As people can endorse or fail to endorse their desires, people can also choose which identities they care about more deeply than others. 6

The Practical Impact of Depth

Once differences in the depth of reasons have an acceptable criterion of individuation, there must be an understanding of the normative impact of those levels of depth. That is, these differences must translate into the practical

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sphere of action, creating more requirements for us in answer to our deeper obligations. This is not to say that the theory must enumerate exact differences in the levels of commitment that must be displayed, for that would be a task that is both tiresome and impossible, since each individual will have different identities with differing levels of depth among them. However, since the primary mission of ethics is to show us how to live, or what we should do, there must be a way to figure out, generally, what obligations of various kinds and depths will ask of us. Korsgaard has at least a preliminary answer to this in her practical distinction between moral and personal relationships. She says, “On the Kantian account which I favor … a personal relationship is a reciprocal commitment on the part of two people to take one another’s views, interests, and wishes into account.”7 And: [P]ersonal relationships are structurally just like moral ones, except that they normally involve more fully realized forms of reciprocity. Friends do not merely refrain from making one another unhappy, but actively pursue each other’s interests, for example. The virtues called upon by personal relationships are the same as those called upon by moral ones: charity and respect.8 In these passages, she says a number of important things regarding the practical impact of various levels of obligation that we have. First, she explains that the expectation in any relationship involves reciprocation. In a moral relationship, we expect a certain amount of reciprocation, whereas in a personal relationship, which is “normally” deeper than the moral one, we expect “more fully realized forms of reciprocity.” Korsgaard follows this formal distinction of depth with an example that illustrates her point that the amount of reciprocation and respect that we owe to people vary according to the importance and closeness of our personal relationships. We have a duty towards all people in the world to not actively aim at their unhappiness; we owe them respect in allowing them to determine and pursue their own interests without our encumbrance. But towards our friends, we have a duty to invest in their happiness; we owe them the respect of helping them with their desires, goals, and characters. The virtues of respect and charity, she explains, are the same in both cases of deep and non-deep relationships, but the extent to which they are exercised differs. We can easily abstract that relationships that involve

7 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 127. 8 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 128.

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less of ourselves and less of our identities similarly involve less commitment towards actively helping those others that are involved in the relationship. For any relationship with a person, either personal or moral, the baseline of appropriate treatment should never be less than is necessitated by the least important moral relationship. This means that all relationships with people require a minimum of respect and a duty to at least “refrain from making one another unhappy.” However, people will differ on how they prioritize their various relationships and projects. For most people, romantic relationships, friends, and family will play the largest roles in their identities, professional relationships and goals will follow, and others (acquaintances, strangers, and so on) will be the least important to their identities. However, for some people this order will be reversed. Evidence indicates that Kant, for example, thought the moral relationship was more important than romantic relationships, so much so that he lost the love of his life (since he thought it was not right to marry her when he was unsuccessful early in life, and impotent, later in life). Others prioritize moral causes over their families, donating large portions of their income and dedicating their lives to service for the less fortunate. These theoretical and practical considerations show that constructivism can capture many of the intuitive differences in the imperative force of reasons. Theoretically, the constructivist can identify a criterion for depth utilizing the placement of various concerns and relationships within each person’s web of identities. Concerns that are more deeply entrenched in the person’s web of identities give rise to deeper reasons. Practically, the depth of a reason will call a person to be more or less active in helping others. The moral relationship requires of people that they (at the very least) not inhibit each other in the pursuit of what they think is valuable, and it necessitates the exercise of respect in this regard. Other relationships, depending on where they are in the person’s web of identities, will require people to be more active in promoting the relevant interests of the people that are involved in the relationship. If I prioritize my role as a teacher, then I will have a very deep reason to see to it that my students’ learning-relevant needs and desires are met, not by simply refraining from interfering, but by helping them to an extraordinary extent to learn well. People must decide how much of themselves they want to invest in their careers. Some professors are more concerned with research and less concerned with teaching, whereas some spend long hours mentoring their students and write relatively less. Both extremes and all variations within the extremes are acceptable morally and professionally. But not every option is acceptable to every individual. If I prioritize my role as a daughter, then I will have very deep reasons to see to it that my mother is happy. If I prioritize my role as a moral agent, as one who is compassionate and responsive to the needs

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and desires of others, whoever they may be, then I will have very deep reasons to further everyone’s happiness. Some of my roles will conflict at times, and I may be required to sacrifice my obligations as a teacher and a daughter when they are in conflict with my role as a moral agent. To have a moral concern (and therefore a reason) and yet not act on it when it is relatively easy to do, is under most circumstances acting immorally. One example comes to mind. Throughout my TV watching life I vividly remember the Sally Struthers commercials to “save the children.” Photos and videos of kids in Africa were featured along with explanations of how many children die due to easily preventable causes. These were accurate depictions that researchers could easily verify. Even now, the under-five child mortality rate of sub-Saharan African children comprises 50% of the global rate.9 These commercials instigated tears in countless people, yet relatively few of the those who were impacted and easily had the means to donate the requested twentyone dollars monthly (in 1987) actually donated. The disparity is psychologically explicable because once the commercial is over, people forget their concern for the children who are dying. And after the commercials repeat often enough, people begin to feel desensitized to their concerns for the children. On the concern criterion, when people ignore their moral reasons, they behave immorally at first, until they slowly become a different person. That different person is unconcerned with the dying children. Once that happens, the question is whether it is good to be this new (unconcerned about children’s deaths) person. Under a realist view, we could easily say yes, this new person is worse. But under constructivism, the answer depends on the consistency of the person’s whole identity and satisfaction they get from the person they are now. One person may have changed little else and therefore desensitization is an inconsistent response. That person still has a reason to help the children because other identities encourage it even if their direct concern is no longer present, due to merely psychological factors. Another person may have changed more substantially into someone almost entirely preoccupied with the success of their career. Since their identity is mostly self-concerned, their reasons are different. Under Enlightenism, the moral identity is always considered when judging whether something is a reason or not. People cannot commit immoral actions even in order to maintain more integrity between their non-moral identities. How robust the moral identity is depends on one’s interpretation of the values that appear to be implied by it. In Chapter 7, I indicated that the moral identity gives us reasons to be respectful at the very least. People can be moral without 9 “Under-Five Mortality,” Unicef Data. https://data.unicef.org. Accessed on August 5, 2019.

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committing every action to the betterment of humankind. If relatively selfish people reflect on their identities and desires well, live consistently, refuse to act on their immoral desires, and are satisfied with their lives, then there may be little reason to change. Other people have reported that living selfishly makes them feel empty. In those cases, they have a reason to change. The other intuition that moral theories should capture is that within our contingent identities and commitments we also have reasons have varying depths. This was the topic of the Chapter 9. The constructivist can explain these using the concern account, as well. Consider once again the cases of the perfume salesperson and the vacuum salesperson that I discussed in the last chapter. Both involve personal projects of selling, wherein we do not know the people selling the product, nor do we want the products they are selling. We seem to be more moved to buy from the vacuum salesperson who is doggedly carting his supplies door-to-door in the heat over the perfume salesperson who hardly appears to be working, but rather, chatting with her friends and sampling makeup. Our behaviors appear to reflect the strength of the reasons that we think we have. We must either see the vacuum salesperson’s project as more important to us for some reason, or feel that he is more important, either because of the character of one who will make the effort to go door-to-door or the biases (warranted or unwarranted) that we have in preference to him. Another possibility that attempts to simulate the realist’s explanation of the differing needs involved, and the obligation to fulfill more urgent needs, is to say that the vacuum salesperson’s project has more depth because we perceive it to be a personal project that also meets a moral commitment to help those in great need. If the person’s moral identity is sufficiently deep, or the depths of two identities can be added to create a deeper obligation, then the obligation to buy from the vacuum salesperson can be said, from that person’s point of view, to display a deeper reason to buy from him than from the perfume salesperson. On the other hand, if one does not perceive an obligation to buy from either person as meeting a moral need, a person may legitimately refuse to buy at all, unless they see value for themselves in having the product. Just how prioritizing certain obligations over others should be done (and in what circumstances) is a complex matter since most people will not have entire identities that are always, and in all ways, more deeply entrenched than all other identities. There will be overlaps and changes that happen daily in a person’s complex of identities. Since there is not much hope of neurologically identifying the degree of entrenchment of a particular identity or obligation springing from an identity, perhaps the best way to rank concerns will be for individuals to become very good at determining what is important to them, what affects their values most profoundly, and so on. My list of “Questions for

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Reflection” that I provided in Chapter 7 is an attempt to show how that can be successfully pursued. Psychological assessements and testing tools might also prove helpful in this endeavor. However it is performed, it is imperative that we find a good method of determining what obligations are stronger than others relative to each person’s web of identities. 7

Unintuitive Consequences versus the Importance of Autonomy

Although constructivism can capture differences in the imperative force of reasons upon people using the dimension of depth, the way reasons are prioritized espouses a constrained relativism. First, the account appears to endorse the actions of selfishly ambitious people (as long as their reasons are not immoral). Second, it gives no reason for relatively selfishly people to change. Third, it does not distinguish between the normative goodness of one who is selfish (yet not immorally so) versus one who is altruistic. When the account takes into consideration the depth of various reasons and identities, it permits many selfish actions. This is because, practically speaking, we cannot act on all of our reasons (since there are often conflicts of time and project orientation). What we should do depends on the depth of our reasons, and the depth of our reasons depends on the importance of the reason or identity from which it springs in one’s overall identity. It is clear that in many cases there will be conflicts between what I want and what others want. If I strive towards my own goal in competitive activities, for example, I will be acting to inhibit someone else’s realization of her goal. In doing so, I interfere with her happiness. But if I refrain from acting towards my own goal, I interfere with my own happiness. These cases arise so regularly that it seems even if we prioritize the demands of others sometimes, we will be acting to hamper their happiness quite a lot. So, unless we are always willing to sacrifice our own happiness for the happiness of others, it will be a sad fact that most of the reasons we have that spring from our moral relationship with others will go unfulfilled because we are striving against them. Not only does the account endorse the actions of selfish people, but in addition, most of us will have a reason to be selfish. This is because the depth of each person’s reasons and their priorities depend on what is most central to their identities. But it is likely (and probably healthily so) that one’s self is more central than others are to their identity. When others are more central to a person’s identity, then that person is less authentic and less themself; instead, they measure their self by their contribution to others and by others’ views of them. The result is usually insecurity, a lack of confidence, immaturity,

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and being easily influenceable, and unstable. However, a healthy self-focus for most people means that when there is a conflict of reasons, and there is a need to choose which reason to pursue, most people should choose those reasons that will favor themselves and their closest relationships and affiliations. This is because it is ultimately to each of our own identities that we must answer. Therefore, according to the analysis of the constructivist account that includes the depth considerations that I gave in the previous section, selfish people should act selfishly, as long as they do not act immorally – where acting morally depends on considering the moral identity in one’s reflections and eliminating those actions that conflict with it (including at least those things that disrespect people the most out of the alternatives). Furthermore, on an account like this, there is no reason to change from being a primarily selfish person to an altruistic person. This is essentially because there is no value that impinges from outside each person’s identity. So, there is nothing that can, nor anything that should, influence people to rearrange the importance of their identities. There is only reason for people to prioritize those actions and attitudes that unify their current selves and further the goals of their current constituent identities. This means that there is a reason for people who already have certain identities to continue to act so as to fulfill the obligations associated with those roles. In addition, there is a reason for people to prioritize certain reasons that they subjectively care about more over other reasons that they care about less. So, if a person is primarily selfish, this account appears to prescribe that the person continue to act in ways to which they are accustomed (instead of acting more altruistically) since acting more altruistically will impact the whole identity towards change and will thus be wrong. Therefore, there appears to be no reason for most selfish people to change. There are at least three notable exceptions to this rule: inconsistency, gradual change, and lack of satisfaction with one’s life. First, people have reasons to change if they act inconsistently. This can occur if they fail to recognize identities that are entailed by their other identities. For example, if people do not recognize that they have a moral identity that is necessary, they have obligations that they are not aware of and therefore act contrary to their moral obligations. They have a reason to change on the Enlightenist account because they have reasons they are not considering, and they should act on their reasons. Or, they have desires they are acting on that cannot be reasons because they conflict with the moral identity. Therefore, they have a reason to change and not act on the desires that conflict with the moral identity. This may mean that people come to realize that they have reasons that they never considered before, and these, in turn, may be prioritized over other previous identities. Thus, people

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who never believed they had a reason to be moral might be moved to make a transformational change if they prioritize their moral identity when they realize that they have it. Second, a person might come to naturally prioritize certain things in life above other things in response to the process of living. People age, confront and overcome obstacles, change locations, and lose and gain friends, family members, and partners, all of which impact how they see themselves and their identities. Just as people can become desensitized to their reasons to help those who are suffering, they can similarly become sensitized. Perhaps the person who formerly did not care about the dying children in Africa has a child and loses the child due to a severe illness. That person may become particularly sensitive to the plight of children who can be saved. Finally, when people feel depressed or otherwise lack satisfaction with the lives they lead, they may search for alternatives that they think would make them happy. In some cases, that means looking to others who seem to be enjoying their lives and observing how they live. People convert to and from religions, start exercising, try a new hobby, travel, diet, and reach towards friendships to try to become happier and more fulfilled. On the Enlightenist account enlisting the concern criterion, making certain radical changes that go completely against the integrity of people’s current web of identities would be wrong under most circumstances. This is because people should not be simply acting, but they should also be reflecting on their identities and obligations and reasoning about what they should do based on them when they are in a position to do so. There are two distinct ways that people can act immorally on my theory. First, if a person acts completely contrary to the moral identity without thinking about it, then the person fails to be sufficiently reflective and thus fails to do what they are morally bound to do. Second, if a person acts contrary to the moral identity while reflecting, and chooses to act contrary to the moral identity, then that person has chosen to do wrong. This is a more severe infraction against one’s morality. Korsgaard calls a person who reflectively decides to act against their moral identity “evil.” Korsgaard states: [I]f a person consciously and reflectively decided to treat a contingent practical identity as giving him a reason that is ungrounded in moral or human identity, either ignoring the claims of morality altogether, or deliberately subordinating morality’s claims to the claims of this practical identity, then he would be evil.10 10

Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 250.

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In legal language, this distinction is described as the difference between negligence, or a failure to be sufficiently reflective, and malfeasance, or an intent to do what is wrong. Gradual changes do not appear to compromise a person’s integrity in the way that transformational changes do. People may prioritize certain things above others that are ‘close calls.’ I think: “Should I go to visit my mom on her birthday and cancel class, or fulfill my obligation to teach and allow my mom to spend her birthday alone?” Both my mother and my students are very important to me, and I make a choice, knowing that I could easily go with either one. Each decision like this that I make plays a part in shaping my identity and priorities. After I choose spending time with my mom over my work two or three times, I become the type of person who prioritizes my mom. My identity slowly changes, but I cannot be criticized in this case of acting against my best reasons on the account I have been considering, since there is no point at which I acted contrary to my current identity. A policy of doing things for others when one is not severely inconvenienced may move a person, in general, towards less selfish action, since it might slowly give the person an identity of helping others. If this policy, when it was developed, is consistent with the person’s then-current identity, then acing on the policy and becoming a more altruistic person in the process also seems to be consistent. Other natural changes that are results of environmental or other factors which are not under the control of the agent, but to which the agent must respond, are likewise acceptable within this framework as long as the person maintains as much of their whole identity as possible. For example, it is not possible to rationally retain the identity of the wife or husband of someone who has divorced you (though I have met people who continue to call their former partners ‘husband.’). Alternatively, if you start to date someone new, you do have a choice as to who that person will be and the quality of your relationship. This is the difference between a categorical change (from ‘spouse’ to ‘not a spouse’) and an incremental change. So, although the Enlightenist account on the concern criterion prohibits people from choosing to change or changing from a selfish person into an altruistic person without a reason to do so that comes from the ‘inside’ (so to speak), it appears to permit a person to slowly morph into a more altruistic person. The question then becomes whether this is adequate. It seems that morally-speaking, the realist intuition is that people always have reasons to be less selfish and more altruistic. People, on this view, should never be penalized for making a transformational change that emphasizes morality. Second, the view may appear to give the wrong conditions under which slow changes are permissible. One may argue that changes in a person should be permissible if

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those changes are good or morally acceptable, not because they fail to compromise the person’s total current identity. However, these objections arise from the perspective of a realist metaethics, one in which goodness is external to individuals. And realism itself is objectionable on many other (theoretical) grounds. Therefore, if constructivism is theoretically preferable over realism and captures many realist intuitions, as an account of morality it is on the whole preferable over realism. The final unintuitive consequence of a constructivist account like this is that there is no distinction between the normative goodness of one who is selfish versus one who is altruistic. As long as people act on their reasons that spring from their deepest identities, they are acting rightly. According to this objection, people who believe that altruism is very important are not doing anything special by performing many altruistic acts and thinking of others regularly before themselves. Rather, they are following (or should be following) the same rule that primarily selfish people follow (or should follow) when they do selfish acts, since they are both doing that which is more central to their identities. Once again, this result emerges because in constructivism, people’s individual identities are the ultimate criteria in determining whether an action is good or not. Although Enlightenism demands that people be consistent, and this entails that everyone who has an identity also has a moral identity, people who are selfish as well as people who are altruistic may be equally rational in recognizing their identities and in deciding which actions to pursue in response to their contemplation upon them. If they are equally rational in these ways, then there is no distinction in the goodness of each of these types of people who are ultimately governed by opposite priorities. The moral identity, as entailed by the existence of any identity, initially looked like it would make a radical difference in people’s practical lives by forcing them to examine and act on moral reasons and others’ interests. However, when depth considerations are incorporated into a constructivist account, the moral identity and the publicity of moral reasons makes less impact than it would on a realist account. If the moral identity is a low priority for a person, then there is less reason for the person to act on moral reasons in the case of a conflict of reasons, and in many cases there will be such conflicts of reasons. At bottom, the reasons and obligations generated on a constructivist account rely on the mental states of individuals. As such, it is impossible to eliminate all relativism within the theory. In some ways, it can come closer to simulating intuitions that people have which emerge from realist assumptions. But constructivism cannot (and should not) attempt co-extensive identity of the strength of various reasons between individuals. This is because unlike realism, constructivism’s values originates in subjective mental states. On constructivism,

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goodness springs from a person’s rational consideration of her identities, and the criterion for goodness is a person’s successful reflection on her identities. The theory implies three somewhat unintuitive consequences: 1. Selfishness is permissible in many cases, 2. In certain cases very selfish people should not undergo transformational changes in which they become altruistic, and 3. There is no normative difference between selfish and altruistic people, ceteris paribus. However, these consequences demonstrate that there are many variations of a good life. And that emphasis on autonomy and variation within the bounds of morality is an advantage of the theory for those who think that realism is unnecessarily limiting of individual choices and in its assessment of the many varieties of people. In blending both subjectivism and realism, the constructivist position I have articulated respects both morality and autonomy equally. I argue in the next chapter that people do have reasons to become more moral, even if they are unaware of them. I use an enlightened view of the status of individuality and the Buddhist concepts of interbeing and co-responsibility to show how people can take others to be extensions of themselves. From a non-illuminated perspective, there is no normative distinction that can be drawn between the selfish person and the altruist, as long as each of them are acting consistently and happily on their deepest reasons. But on an illuminated account of the status of individuality, reasons are intimately shared in a different way.

chapter 11

Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism Constructivism is in some significant ways very similar to certain views in Eastern philosophy. Though I have written elsewhere how Yoga and constructivism can be used in tandem to enhance each other, and some central concepts I articulate here are shared by both Yoga and Buddhism, in this chapter and the next I focus on Buddhism in particular.1 This is because Buddhism is well-known for hosting seemingly incompatible views of the nature of the world and ethics – and it is has spent twenty-six centuries resolving them, as well. My argument is not that Buddhism and constructivism are the same theory in different guises, nor that they are simply similar to each other. Rather, I argue that similarities in their structure, as well as in their content, enable the constructivist to borrow strategies from the Buddhist to help resolve alleged inconsistencies and problems in constructivism.2 In this chapter, I develop the similarities while taking note of the differences. I show how each of the theories motivates morality and anchors why everyone should be moral. In the next chapter, I use the similarities to argue that more selfish people should be less selfish. Initially, a comparison between constructivism and Buddhism seems outrageous. On the face of it, the two views are antithetical to each other. One of Buddhism’s main tenets is nonself and the unity of all, whereas constructivism relies on the self as primary and as the source of all reasons. I elucidate the similarities and then show how Buddhist concepts and strategies can 1 Heather Salazar, “Why Are You Standing on My Yoga Mat?!” in Yoga and Philosophy: Bending Mind and Body, ed. by Liz Swan. New Jersey: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012. 2 Throughout, I take the Mahayana tradition in Buddhism to encompass the mainstream interpretation to which I often refer. Buddhism is a broad collection of traditions that springs from some central teachings by the Buddha, but that have been translated variously. Particular schools of Buddhism embrace different interpretations of some of these teachings and resolve issues in various ways. Other schools, which are tantric (esoteric and secret practices) are highly unconventional but nonetheless prominent within Buddhism today. Some Buddhists within mainstream traditions also embrace tantric forms within their tradition (such as Tibetan Buddhism). Their interpretations are often more difficult to assess, particularly because the tantric teachings are not available to the public, but only to those under a specific master. For reference on doctrines that are common to most Buddhist traditions see Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy and Liberation, New York: Harmony Books, 1998. Hanh’s book is endorsed by many different Buddhist masters from various schools, including the Dalai Lama (of Tibetan Buddhism).

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aid constructivism in resolving its uneasy place between realism and subjectivism. In the end, Enlightenism emerges as a constructivist theory with a robust sense of moral obligation. Buddhism, like constructivism, embraces both ethical universality and perspective-dependent reasons. Concepts such as the absolute and relative points of view, the unconditioned and conditioned realms, interrelatedness, coresponsibility, nonself, and enlightenment occur in most Buddhist traditions. These concepts, when applied to the refined version of constructivism I develop in this book, suggest the dissolution of the idea that the individual self is impermeable. This, in turn, opens the possibility for an inventive resolution of Enlightenism’s remaining quandaries (as discussed at the end of Chapter 10). In the last chapter, I examined four criterions for judging one reason to be stronger than another. The best criterion, the concern account, respects individual autonomy and provides a clear justification for choosing certain reasons over others in cases of conflict. But because not everyone is as deeply concerned about morality as they are about their personal goals, it allows selfish reasons to supersede moral reasons when the person’s identity relies more on the self-interested projects. And though it gives all people reasons to act with respect and kindness, it does not give people reasons to be particularly altruistic if they are consistent, not immoral, and are satisfied with their lives. It appears that how deeply one connects with moral reasons is relativistic. The reasons of others can be easily outweighed by people’s non-moral reasons, thus impeding the import of moral reasons. For Buddhism, the result of resolving the tension of a universal morality wherein there are no distinctions between selves is enlightenment. Enlightenment is the end of a mental (and potentially non-physical or spiritual) process of discovery. The mental state or condition implies its final outcome, namely, “being at one with the universe.” For the ethical constructivist, enlightenment is the end of a procedure resulting in a unity and consistency of the self. The fruit is integrity (literally, being whole). I suggest that when the self is extended beyond the physical parameters demarcating ‘self’ in Western ideology, the self encompasses those for whom the agent cares, those whom the agent affects, and those who affect the agent. Therefore, ‘integrity of self’ implies that duties to the self and certain others are intertwined to such an extent that they are in practice inseparable. 1

The Nature of Morality in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism

The Buddha taught that people should follow an ethical path in order to become enlightened and obtain relief from suffering. This is exemplified in

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the central tenets of Buddhism: the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path. Actions and characters are good and bad, right and wrong, and virtuous and vicious. This strong current of ethics is central to Buddhist doctrine. The Buddha said: Friends, destroying life, taking what is not given, and sexual misconduct are unwholesome. Lying, slandering, harsh words, and frivolous conversation are unwholesome. Covetousness, ill-will, and wrong views are unwholesome. The roots of the unwholesome are greed, hatred, and delusion.3 Each of the eight elements of the Noble Eightfold Path represents an ideal towards which people should strive to eliminate suffering. Like Enlightenism, they are all flexible and circumstance-dependent.4 The Four Noble Truths is the first teaching of the Buddha after becoming enlightened. They are: 1. The truth of suffering, 2. The cause of suffering, 3. The end of suffering, and 4. The Noble Eightfold Path, which represents the way to end suffering. The Noble Eightfold Path indicates normative principles that people should observe to eliminate suffering in their lives. The Noble Eightfold Path 1. Right View, which is a correct understanding of the world and oneself. 2. Right Intention, which is having good intentions. In Buddhism that means avoiding harming the self and others, and seeking liberation from the bondage of the self (which in Buddhism is the seeking of objects of desire to fill one’s void). 3. Right Speech, which is honesty and kindness in speaking (and if these two are in conflict, waiting until an appropriate time to be honest so that the honesty is also kind and able to be received by one’s audience). 4. Right Action, which is non-harming. Non-harming specifically involves not stealing, not killing, and not having sex without commitment and 3 The Discourse on Right View, as translated in Thich Nhat Hahn, The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, p. 271. Pointing out the connection between personal experience, knowledge of ethics, pain and what people should do, he says: “But when you know for yourselves, ‘These things are unwholesome; these things are blamable; these things are censured by the wise; these things, if undertaken and practiced, lead to harm and suffering, abandon them.” (Kalama Sutra ref 3, p 15–16). 4 In this chapter, I use normative concepts such as ‘ethical,’ ‘good,’ ‘right,’ ‘reason,’ ‘obligation,’ ‘should,’ and ‘ought,’ in ways that respect context-sensitivity. Context-sensitivity does not imply that there is no such thing as ethics, morality, goodness, or right action. To say that something is good in a moral sense means that there is usually a reason to do it, though not necessarily an overriding reason (given a particular set of circumstances).

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care for the other person. These actions apply not only to other people, but to animals, plants, and minerals, as well. Therefore, right action implies a vegetarian diet and refraining from over-consumption, overdevelopment of the natural world, and non-pollution. 5. Right Livelihood, which is not dealing in any trade that involves the harming and exploitation of people and animals. This principle claims that if anyone is harmed by the trade, then it is not good. For example, selling alcohol or serving it in a bar may provide fun for some, but invariably for others, it leads to addiction, loss of one’s control over one’s mind and actions, and harm of others (such as drunk driving and spousal abuse). 6. Right Effort, which means exerting oneself moderately so that one is involved in productive activity but not so much that it damages one’s mindset, physical state, or other valuable areas in one’s life. 7. Right Mindfulness, which means maintaining an even-minded and non-judgmental attitude, observing the connections between one’s mental, emotional, and physical happiness, and not polluting the mind through consumption of caustic materials. Some examples are violent and overly-sexualized TV shows and movies, magazines that undermine one’s self-worth, and food, drinks, and drugs which harm or inhibit the proper functioning of one’s mind. 8. Right Concentration, which is cultivating focus so that awareness, meditation, and all the other principles in the Noble Eightfold Path are accomplishable. Each of the eight right ways are interconnected. Ethical living emanates from consideration of the whole, not the parts. Right Livelihood, for example, requires that in order to eliminate suffering and live well, one must only make money from an occupation that does not harm other beings. Butchers, nuclear physicists, and stock traders are all occupations that harm other living beings and are therefore immoral professions, according to Buddhism. However, it is not just nuclear physicists who are involved in nuclear bombings. Everyone, in some way, participates in creating the environment we live in that appears to require the use of weapons for both offense and defense. Soldiers respond to desires that others in government and in the larger society have for war. They are not actors in and of themselves. In this way, Buddhism asks for us all to recognize that we are co-responsible for the conditions that these professions create. Therefore, even if we abstain from making money from a profession directly involved in harming others, we are still not morally clean. One of the primary lessons of Buddhism is to exercise awareness and have compassion towards all living beings. People should make decisions in

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a balanced way that reflects the wholeness and interrelatedness of the Noble Eightfold Path with respect to the connectedness of all beings in the world. In this way, people can begin to reduce tensions with others that lead to more suffering. For example, protesting a war is one way of reacting. However, if in so doing, we also criticize, blame, and ostracize soldiers, we are no longer creating well-being, but suffering. By judging others as worse than oneself instead of being co-responsible, understanding, and compassionate, we violate other principles of the Noble Eightfold Path, such as Right View (having a view that recognizes the whole and our parts in it). By being inflexible and dogmatic in one’s views, one does not see the whole, but only one perspective: one’s own. It also violates Right Speech (in speaking harmfully and divisively instead of helpfully) and Right Mindfulness (by lacking presence and understanding and instead being judgmental). Since people affect each other, every individual is connected with all others in the world, and even with all other living and non-living beings. Therefore, eliminating suffering within a person’s own life also involves eliminating suffering that the person contributes to the world through one’s actions and non-actions. Both Buddhism and Enlightenism require a carefully considered balance between various principles within certain circumstances in order to develop a truly reflective and enlightened view. Buddhism weighs the principles within the Noble Eightfold Path while respecting the interrelatedness of both the principles themselves and of all beings with each other, whereas Enlightenism balances various reasons that emanate from diverse identities within the self. Korsgaard’s view indicates that all actual endorsement of desires leads to reasons for agents, but Enlightenism rejects that in favor of a more integrated and reflective view. Enlightenism claims that people’s reasons are those that they would endorse in ideal reflection on all relevant identities. Therefore Enlightenism (as opposed to Korsgaard’s Publicity as Shareability) is similar to Buddhism in that it sees reasons as those that properly balance all relevant areas of oneself. Reasons require wholistic reflection on one’s identities and mental states. 2

We All Have Reasons to be Moral and Enlightened

In both ethical constructivism and Buddhism, all people have a reason to be moral which originates from within individuals’ mental states. In constructivism, the moral identity is necessary because it is entailed by the acceptance of any other identity. I examined Korsgaard’s argument for why everyone should endorse the moral identity in Chapter 2. Although I develop Enlightenism to

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deal with problems in Korsgaard’s version of ethical constructivism, I accept her argument for the conclusion that the moral identity is necessary. She says, “If we do not treat our humanity as a normative identity, none of our other identities can be normative, and then we can have no reasons to act at all…. Practical conceptions of your identity which are fundamentally inconsistent with the value of humanity must be given up.”5 The argument neither assumes that morality is in the world, nor that morality is entirely subjective. The moral identity is universal and objectively-valid, but not objectively real. It creates reasons for everyone to treat each other with respect that emerge from reflection upon oneself. On Korsgaard’s account, everyone has a reason to be moral, as long as they recognize the necessity of their moral identity. A problem that emerges is that not everyone has recognized the necessity of the moral identity, and therefore not everyone has a reason to be moral. Korsgaard accepts that this result is unavoidable on her account since the normativity of an identity or desire requires an agent’s actual endorsement. Under Enlightenism, everyone has a reason to be moral as long as they have any other practical identity. Reasons arise from ideal reflection on relevant identities. Ideal reflection always includes all necessary identities, and since the moral identity is entailed by the acceptance of any other identity, the moral identity therefore operates in all ideal reflection. Counterfactual endorsement is a better measure than actual endorsement of reasons and it avoids issues with immoral reasons that undermine Korsgaard’s theory. Buddhism, like constructivism, aims to show that everyone has a reason to be moral and that morality is not external to oneself. Moral actions are those that are useful on the path to enlightenment. Enlightenment is that point at which beings no longer create suffering for themselves and others. Rather, they live harmoniously within themselves and with the world around them. This is living well and can be called ethical living. The Noble Eightfold Path indicates principles that lead people towards well-being, yet the principles are not forced on individuals by an external authority. The elements on the path are not rules that emanate from real moral facts outside of human minds. Therefore, Buddhism is not properly a realist theory of ethics. But neither is it a subjectivist theory, since the principles represent objectivelyvalid methods to eliminate suffering and live well. The motivation to follow the Buddhist path comes from the natural desire to eliminate suffering in one’s own life. Therefore, anyone who suffers has a reason to be moral and attain enlightenment. We show respect towards ourselves and each other by 5 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity, p. 130.

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understanding that: 1. All conscious beings suffer, 2. The origin of suffering is interdependent (as it involves all of the circumstances people are born into and the ways they are affected by others’ actions), and finally, 3. We can all play roles in alleviating suffering for ourselves and others (through living ethically and striving towards enlightenment). The motivation for seeking enlightenment relies on practical concerns, not on an argument, as in neo-Kantian constructivism. Without enlightenment, people are bound to their desires and are not free. When people’s pains and pleasures are dependent upon the attainment of the objects of one’s desires, what results is slavery to one’s desires as well as a life of pain. Until individuals are liberated from enslavement to their desires, they will always be in pain. This is a lesson that springs from the Four Noble Truths. The acceptance of pain and investigation into the root cause of pain are necessary to bring people towards enlightenment. Enlightenment liberates the self and gives people the opportunity to experience freedom from desires (which is peace). It is possible to create an argument to ground ethical normativity for the Buddhist that relies on a universal avoidance of pain. According to the Buddhist, no one desires the subjective experience of pain, which is why people continually seek pleasure in the fulfilment of their desires and the avoidance of pain. They are mistaken as to where they can find fulfillment, however (for seeking to satisfy their desires actually traps them into a cycle of even more pain). For the argument to work, it is not just some cases of pain that must be worthy of avoidance, but all pains. If pains (even some) are not subject to (at least prima facie) avoidance, then they could not possibly entail the necessity of the path to enlightenment. If avoidance of all pain is established (which may be reasonably argued through the negative reactions of individuals when presented with a stimulus that causes pain), then (it may be argued) that avoidance of pain implies a reason to be enlightened (since enlightenment, regardless of what one thinks about it, is the only way that a person can be free from the cycle of pain). If everyone’s desires and actions of avoiding pain are universal, they play a role similar to people always having at least one recognized practical identity. If all of this falls together for the Buddhist, everyone who reacts negatively to pain has a reason to be enlightened. Since people act as if pain is bad, they therefore have a reason to avoid pain and become enlightened. This reason does not depend on an objectively real ethics. It only relies on people’s desires. The argument I just gave shows how Buddhism can sensibly be argued to embrace ethical constructivism of the kind that both Korsgaard and I theorize. It is, however, unnecessary for anyone to accept this argument for the general strategy in this chapter to succeed.

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In summary, both Buddhism and constructivism generate deep and universal morality through personal reflection and experience (which may present itself to individuals differently). Both views create ethical demands from a point of view of unified consciousness. There is no ethics in the world as such; nevertheless, being ethical is one of the most fundamental concerns we have in life. 3

Understanding That: Interbeing in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism

In both Buddhism and constructivism, engaging deeply with one’s moral reasons is a significant part of becoming one’s best and most whole self. Buddhists take an initial pledge after accepting what they refer to as the ‘transmission’ of Buddhist teachings from a teacher to a student. They vow to eliminate their own suffering through the teachings. However, students of Buddhism eventually learn that because one’s own suffering is inextricably connected with the suffering of all other beings in the world, it is impossible to remove one’s own suffering without also working to reduce the suffering of all other beings. The Bodhisattva’s vow is the highest call for a Buddhist. When people take this oath, they refrain from accepting the individual ultimate bliss of nirvana, even if they earn it. Instead, they continue on from incarnation to incarnation within the cycle of birth and death in suffering for the sole purpose of helping to ease the suffering of others in the world and bring them to enlightenment.6 Under constructivism, a universal morality is created through individuals’ reflective endorsement of their desires. Agents consider their desires in the context of their whole selves, attempting to unify the self under principles that are consistent and rational. Sufficient reflection results in agents who acknowledge their connection to other people, other beings, and other things in world. People thereby come to understand themselves better as they reflect on their own identities and examine them as they relate to others. Moral obligations to oneself and others naturally arise from reflection on the moral identity. All people have a moral identity which is necessary; it cannot be rejected because it is the basis of our agency. Because moral reasons are implied by an acceptance of any other practical identity, they have normative force for everyone who is an agent. No one should behave in ways that are disrespectful of 6 The interpretation of this vow differs within various schools of Buddhism. Some, for example, do not believe in literal reincarnation. It may also be argued that one cannot reach nirvana without taking this vow since the self is illusory and includes all others.

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humanity. Rather, others should be treated as equally-worthy and deserving of their place in this world. 4

Two Truths in Buddhism and Ethical Constructivism

Understanding that one has moral obligations to oneself and others is an important step in the creation of morality, yet obtaining a proper understanding what the content of those obligations are is just as central. In both Buddhism and constructivism, knowledge illuminates one’s reasons and obligations. In Enlightenism, if everyone ideally reflected, their obligations would be clear, whereas in Buddhism, people must have an accurate view of reality, as well, and that accurate understanding is available to those who are enlightened. With greater understanding of Right View in Buddhism, prejudices dissipate and wisdom results after people abandon instinctual and learned patterns of behavior and experientially learn the answers to questions that are necessary to gain a true and deep understanding of the nature of the self, things external to the self, and the nature and source of suffering. One of the deepest Buddhist teachings of Right View relies on the distinction between and interdependence of what they call ‘relative truth’ and ‘absolute truth.’7 Relative truth is the truth of history, of the moment, and of our limited perspectives within the world. Relative truth emerges from ‘conditioned existence,’ which is the way we and the world are observed by us. Our observations, for example, are based on our perceptual systems, on our natural desires and preferences, and on cause and effect. All truths that we normally think about, research, and discuss with others are conditional upon our perspectives, our minds, and our limited understandings. This includes scientific truths. The fact that I am typing on a laptop at a coffee place in Western Massachusetts right now is a relative truth. If anyone wanted to know whether this is true or not, it could be investigated. Eye-witnesses could be called upon and the dates and times of my typing brought forth from the registry of my computer. If investigated close to the event’s occurrence, a doctor could obtain evidence from my stomach that I was drinking coffee that was chemically similar to the coffee at my favorite coffee place (which is a part of a local chain that roasts their own 7 The primary interpretation I take of the two truths is from the Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism (founded by the philosopher Nagarjuna (c. 150–250 AD). Nagarjuna is a particularly rigorous and analytic expositor of Buddhism. For a comprehensive book on Nagarjuna, see Richard Jones, Nagarjuna: Buddhism’s Most Important Philosopher. CreateSpace, 2010.

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beans and has customized blends). Most people call Buddhist relative truth simply ‘truth.’ Whereas relative truth emerges from a perspective that is limited by space and time, absolute truth is timeless and ethereal. It is without judgement and division. Contemporary Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh compares relative truth to the waves of the ocean and absolute truth to the water itself. Within the relative way of seeing things, waves are up one moment, down another; at times they are lighter or darker than at other times; sometimes they are closer to or further from the shore. The absolute truth is that they are all a part of the nature and source of water. People, likewise, have ups and downs in their lives; at times they are happier and at other times more sad; they age and grow older. Some stages of people’s lives are considered to be ideal from the point of view of society (such as one’s 20s) and others, which are marked by a decline in reproductive hormones, are considered shameful (as evidenced by the sales of anti-aging skin treatments and the popularity of Botox and surgical procedures). Yet, underneath all of those fluctuations, people are conscious awareness. Any description of absolute truth limits an understanding of it, however. Water is the underlying substance of waves, but that description divides it from earth and sky. Conscious awareness is the underlying unity of people, yet that divides it from unconscious entities such as the water. All comparisons bring up a division further down the line. We might call the full unity ‘the universe,’ but if we understand the universe in any particular way (such as meeting a physical description or embodying properties that can be identified), we do not understand the full depth of absolute truth. Absolute truth emerges from what Buddhists call ‘unconditioned existence,’ which is without time, space, and causality. It defies ordinary understanding. In Buddhism, we can only have insight into emptiness; no conceptual understanding can grasp absolute truth. That is why nirvana (commonly understood in the West as both nothingness and also as enlightenment) is so perplexing. The closest description of absolute truth is ‘is.’ Absolute truth can be incredibly difficult to grasp, and Buddhists disagree on to what extent it expresses a truth at all. While some schools, such as the Madhyamaka school of Mahayana Buddhism, claim that these two truths are different epistemic descriptions of one world, others claim that they are two separate realms, and some even claim that either one or the other is not a real truth.8 Even for those (arguably the majority) of Buddhists who accept the two 8 I am personally acquainted with some individuals in the Tibetan Dzogchen tradition (which is similar to tantric forms of Buddhism), wherein they perform ceremonies that attempt to

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truths, living within them both is extraordinarily difficult, but it is what the path to enlightenment requires. While living in the world healthfully, they must also accept that their nature is to decay and not invest themselves into delaying it. Understanding both kinds of truth gives some people the insight and wisdom to live with more detachment, not taking too personally or seriously the fluctuations within life and one’s circumstances.9 Bizarrely, it also gives them a sense of belonging to a community and having responsibility for others in the world. Buddhists describe the bliss of pure awareness as enlightenment, and whether or not people achieve a complete experiential understanding of absolute truth and the unconditioned, it is undeniable that the teachings profoundly affect people. The many thousands of people who now meditate and study Eastern practices in the West are evidence of Buddhism’s practical influence. Immanuel Kant’s distinction between the ‘phenomenal’ and ‘noumenal’ worlds may be taken as a modern understanding of the Buddhist’s distinction between conditioned and unconditioned existence (and giving rise to relative and absolute truths, respectively). Within the phenomenal dimension, people observe only within the limitations of space, time, and causality. Kant argued that there is a reality in itself (the noumenal) which is necessarily posited by the mind, but that the objects of the world as presented to the mind are necessarily tainted by our subjective experience of them. Objects as we see them are therefore not genuine depictions of the reality in itself. People can only experience the world through their own particular perspectives. Kant’s refusal to describe the actual nature of objects in the world apart from our perspectives (the ‘ding an sich,’ or thing-in-itself), can be compared to the indescribable expansiveness of absolute truth in Buddhism. Since we cannot separate from our minds (and no selves, either embodied or unembodied can), it is impossible to see or understand the noumenal dimension. Rather, we can only extend their lives. How one interprets and how much one accepts some common teachings in Buddhism varies from school to school, and are especially different within the secret schools, such as Dzogcehen and tantric traditions. Tantric practices are passed down from a master to students within specific parameters. Ordinary human desires, such as the desire to live longer in the conditioned realm and extend one’s life, for example, drive some tantric Buddhists and their teachings. 9 About twenty years ago, when I first began studying Buddhism and Yoga, I thought notions such as absolute truth, nothingness, and nirvana were too nebulous and vague to have any use in philosophy. I looked on the idea of two truths as a crutch for people that hindered their understanding of the ‘real truth’ we can find in philosophy and science. After many years of study and teaching, I now see the two truths as a device to open the minds and emotions of people who are rooted in facts, analysis, and dividing objects to an extent that they miss the understanding of and joy of interconnectedness with their families, communities, and other beings in the world.

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claim transcendental knowledge of the reality that stands behind our experiences of it.10 The Kantian focuses on what the structure of our human life, mind, and its limitations rationally entails for us. The Buddhist appears to accept such doctrines such as unembodied consciousness, reincarnation, the metaphysical unity of all that exists, as well as the necessity of recasting the link between desires and wellness. The Kantian does not accept any of these doctrines. Whereas Buddhists assert that all of reality is a unity and that everything is interconnected, the Kantian argues that it is metaphysically impossible to ascertain such things about the noumenal world. The divergence between the two philosophies is rooted in differences in epistemology. Buddhists believe that meditation enables people to understand the unconditioned from beyond their minds. In other words, meditation provides epistemological privileged access to unconditioned existence. However, for a Kantian, meditation and any feelings or experiences within it cannot be validated since even they issue from within the embodied self. The ding an sich is impossible to understand since it is impossible to move beyond our minds. Therefore, instead of focusing on unconditioned existence and absolute truth, which cannot be understood, the Kantian attempts to understand the workings of the mind and what they imply about our nature, our experienced world, and our obligations within that world.11 10 11

See Immanuel Kant, The Critique of Pure Reason, Translated by Paul Guyer and Allen Wood, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992 (originally published in 1781), A 26–42. For a lengthy discussion of the legitimacy of the epistemological privilege of meditation and a reconciliation of the divergence between Eastern (Indian) and Western views of the self using semantic externalism, see Heather Salazar, “Descartes’ and Patañjali’s Conceptions of the Self,” in Journal of Indian Philosophy and Religion, Volume 19, December 2014.

chapter 12

Interdependence and Self-Interest in Ethical Constructivism Enlightenism solves several substantial problems with Korsgaard’s version of ethical constructivism. Nevertheless, a few contentious issues remain (see the end of Chapter 10). Namely, even when people satisfy the criterion of ideal reflection upon relevant identities, and they exclude immoral desires, many people’s priorities are (and should be) relatively selfish. Even under the best model of prioritizing reasons on Enlightenism, when people are consistent, do not endorse immoral desires, act on their deepest concerns, and are satisfied with their lives, they have no reason to become more altruistic. Furthermore, when relatively selfish people are compared with altruists, both of whom satisfy the basic conditions, those who are concerned more with their own cares and ambitions are not any better than those who selflessly give of themselves for the betterment of humanity. Even though Enlightenism (as developed thus far) is a good compromise between subjectivism and realism, and between autonomy and morality, it would be better if it enabled people to normatively distinguish among individuals who vary regarding their devotion to moral concerns. Furthermore, the account would better approximate some of our moral intuitions if it implied that it is better for people to be more altruistic. In chapter 11, I developed comparisons between Buddhism and ethical constructivism to motivate an Eastern-inspired answer to those remaining concerns. The key to the constructivist puzzle rests in an interpretation of the concept of interbeing, which resolves the seeming contradiction raised by the relative and absolute truths of Buddhism. I argue that more selfish people do have a reason to be less selfish, but that their shortcoming lies in a lack of understanding of their relationships to others (not in an ethical failure). Still, they do not have a reason to make transformative changes within their identities to become altruistic (which I identify as a positive safeguard). I also show how people can move towards greater peace together, which is a precondition of behaving more morally towards strangers and those who are viewed as dissimilar. 1

The Interdependency of Relative and Absolute Truths in Buddhism

Apparent contradictions arise in Buddhism, and different Buddhist traditions have approached them in various ways. One of the most pervasive is between © Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_014

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whether ethics exists or not. In the absolute realm, everything is one; there is no self, there is nothing to do and there is, therefore, no ethics. When all ignorance disappears and people realize that there are no conceptual divides, no physical divides, and no moral divides, the nature of everything in existence is understood as it actually is: without duality. Sogyal Rinpoche said, “When you live in the wisdom home, you’ll no longer find a barrier between “I” and “you,” “this” and “that,” “inside” and “outside”; you’ll have come, finally, to your true home, the state of non-duality.”1 People’s understanding of themselves as separate and autonomous beings dissolves as they experience everything else as a mere extension of themselves. Or as some Buddhists claim: they realize there never was a self. In the absolute realm, therefore, there is no ethics and there cannot be ethics because there is no ‘other.’ All is one. Lama Govinda said, “The world is neither good nor bad. It is only the relation to our ego that makes it seem the one or the other.”2 A fully enlightened person does not appear to recognize or have need of moral judgements such as good, bad, right, wrong, or virtuous and vicious. On the other hand, entrance onto the Buddhist path comes through a recognition of one’s own suffering and the universal fact that all conscious beings suffer. The realization that people can stop this suffering is what motivates people to pursue the Noble Eightfold Path. This path is an ethical path that requires Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, and so on. Furthermore, as explained in the last chapter, the highest Buddhist’s vow is that of the Bodhisattva, which is a commitment to be moral to the highest degree and practice the ultimate in self-sacrificial behavior. These Buddhists pledge to refrain from total bliss and cessation of the cycle of suffering until all living beings are enlightened. Therefore, the Buddhist path embraces an incredibly high standard of ethical behavior. The conflict in Buddhism is thus: the highest level of enlightenment recognizes the absolute realm where there is no self and no ethics, but in order to obtain enlightenment, it is necessary to affirm exactly the opposite: One must be wholesome, good-willed and giving to others. There are three general ways to resolve the inconsistency over whether ethics exists: 1. Weaken the claim that there is an ethical path, 2. Weaken the claim that there is no ethics, or 3. Restrict the domains over which the claims range. 1 Sogyal Rinpoche, A View on Buddhism, http://buddhism.kalachakranet.org. 2 Lama Anagarika Govinda, When East Meets West, The Forest Sangha Newsletter No. 79, April 2007. Huang Po said, “All Buddhists and all sentient beings are nothing but the one mind, beside which nothing exists.” Huang Po, The Wisdom of the Zen Masters, ed. by Tim Freke, Journey Editions, 1998.

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In Buddhism, these domains are already somewhat restricted by enlisting the concepts of absolute and relative truth (which correspond to the unconditioned and conditioned realms). However, these are not separate places, but two ways of looking at a single place. Because of this, the conflict between the two claims that Buddhism makes regarding the existence of ethics still remains. Either morality and moral obligations exist, or they do not. If absolute truth is the truth of enlightenment, then one might claim that nonself and no ethics is the more enlightened way of seeing things, and therefore best. However, that would make the most central Buddhist teachings idle. Alternatively, within the Mahayana tradition there is a possible resolution to the inconsistency via weakening the claim that there is no ethics, reinterpreting nonself as interbeing and co-responsibility, and focusing on using “the practices of wisdom and compassion  … developed through cultivating [among other things] ethical conduct.”3 It is this second approach that I use to resolve the seeming incompatibility within constructivist ethics. The first step towards dissolving the conflict between the absolute and relative conceptions of the world is to understand them as dependent upon one another. Among the most important Buddhist philosophers is Nagarjuna (c. 150 AD), who founded the Middle Way school within Mahayana Buddhism, which is also the dominant tradition of Zen and Tibetan Buddhism. In The Fundamental Verses of the Middle Way, he explains that the relative and the absolute truths themselves are co-dependent on each other. Without understanding both, and their dependence on each other, one can never become enlightened: The buddhas’ teaching of the doctrine rests upon two categories of truths: truth based on worldly conventions, and truth from the highest point of view. Those who do not discern the distinction of these two categories of truths do not discern the profound truth in the teachings of the buddhas. Without relying upon worldly convention, the truth from the highest point of view cannot be taught. And without reaching the truth from the highest point of view, nirvana cannot be achieved.4 In this passage, Nagarjuna explains that nirvana itself cannot be achieved unless absolute truth is understood, and absolute truth cannot be understood unless we first understand relative truth. Whereas some people claim that nirvana is the total extinction of the self and one has reached it when one has stopped 3 Traleg Kyabgon, Mind at Ease, p. 12. 4 Richard Jones, Nagarjuna: Buddhism’s Most Important Philosopher, Section 8.

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reincarnating, another view (the one espoused by Nagarjuna, Thich Nhat Hahn, and often by the Dalai Lama), explains that nirvana is rather the extinction of seeing the self as separate. The true insight of emptiness and nonself, this doctrine claims, is when one sees that everything in existence is interrelated. The self is empty of concepts that divide instead of unite people with each other and their environments. The self therefore dissolves whenever one experiences the interrelation of the self with everything else in existence. When one’s perception of this interrelationship is entirely pervasive, the self does not appear to exist anymore. Instead of people’s usual sense of dissatisfaction or goals of reaching for achievement and recognition, they have instead an enjoyable blissful awareness. This is nirvana. One can only achieve it by seeing that everything is one (and thereby entering the absolute realm). Yet entering the absolute is only possible by coming into existence as an individual being in the world and experiencing the suffering and ups and downs of one’s own particular human existence. The reconciliation of the two truths relies on the interbeing nature of the absolute and relative truths. Both have purposes and are practical ways of experiencing the dual nature of consciousness. In order to become enlightened, it is necessary to have a wholesome and ethical path. After people become enlightened, they realize that everything is interrelated and that the ethics that they thought existed in principles is only an approximation to true care about all beings as oneself. It is unnecessary to abide by approximate ethical standards when people care about each other as a natural extension of themselves. 2

Compassionate Action and Co-responsibility in Buddhism

Compassionate action bridges the gap between the self and others. It is interwoven throughout the Noble Eightfold Path. Relative truth is necessary in order to see pain in oneself and others, and it is therefore antecedent to alleviating it. When one sees others’ pain as one’s own and others’ joy as one’s own, then enlightenment is available. Once a being becomes enlightened, ethical action is natural and spontaneous. While tantric Buddhist stories are replete with strange and sometimes abhorrent acts from seemingly enlightened individuals (such as Bhutan’s Drukpa Kunley who raped dozens of women to allegedly transfer his enlightened energies to them), tantric practices are a special and secretive form of Buddhism that is passed from master to student in a personal relationship, and as such, they are more apt to the peculiarities of specific teachers.5 5 Karma Choden, Phallus: Crazy Wisdom from Bhutan, Bhutan: Butter Lamp Publishers, 2014.

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If someone takes the Bodhisattva vow seriously and sees others as an extension of the self, then it is irrational to harm or disrespect others. Having been or seeming to have been enlightened is not an excuse to perform such acts. Convincing others that enlightenment is achievable through sex with an enlightened being is not only manipulative, but it is a misguided way to bring others into nirvana (which is a sustained sense of oneness with the whole universe). Though sex may give people a sense of ‘oneness’ with another person, it is short-lived and undisciplined. Furthermore, people attempting to achieve nirvana through sex fail to respect the experience of interconnectedness with all others in the universe. The bliss of losing oneself falls short of the bliss of feeing connected and at one with the universe. And, since the knowledge and method of achieving nirvana do not issue from the self, people are also unable to replicate it. If sex is coerced, either via the use of physical force or psychological manipulation, it cannot come from an enlightened place. Buddhism emphasizes helping others through compassionate action. Compassionate action for others can be observed in the ways we act compassionately for ourselves. If a person’s own heart feels weak, one does not force it to run a marathon; nursing one’s wounds brings them into a natural state of receptivity that is more genuinely healing and useful than force. The experience and understanding of the source of one’s pain is the ground for the pursuit of enlightenment, as explained by the Four Noble Truths. When a person learns to live compassionately with oneself and all others though the Noble Eightfold Path, the experience of oneness with the universe is possible. The foundation of knowledge is set, and the method is replicable. Relative truth is the gateway through which a person learns, both theoretically and experientially, and all selves must see themselves as separate before they see they are united. After enlightenment, it is still useful to retain the concepts of the conditioned world, because people live as their individual selves in conditioned existence. Both good and bad emerge within the world and through our perspectives. Their interdependence on one another does not entail that ethical concepts are meaningless, just as the interdependency of the wave on the water does not mean that there are no waves. Lama Yeshe advises, “What you have to realize is that everything – good and bad; all kinds of philosophies and doctrines – comes from mind.”6 This realization does not require us to stop recognizing the difference between good and bad, but instead allows us to see them in an enlightened way: as emerging from the mind.7 6 Lama Yeshe, In the Buddha’s Words, Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2005. 7 Thich Nhat Hahn says: “Everything depends on our mind. Imagine one thousand people whose minds are full of misperceptions, wrong views, envy, jealousy, and anger. If they come

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Although enlightenment results in certain realizations of oneness and nonduality, these realizations are dependent on a self taking steps towards the dissolution of ignorance in a particular space and time. They depend on treading the path that one accesses through one’s own suffering and compassion for all beings. Far from dissolving morality completely, this interpretation of Buddhist thought recognizes that we are co-responsible. The greater understanding we have of oneness, the more we take co-responsibility with everyone, since everyone affects everyone else. 20th Century Buddhist master, Chogyam Trungpa warned people, “It is about time we became responsible for this world.”8 Far from simply living in accordance with the tenets of the Noble Eightfold Path, advanced practitioners devote their lives to compassionate action, which is the model of the Bodhisattva. Rather than interpreting enlightenment and absolute truth as implying that there is no ethics, they interpret enlightenment as embodying the realization that we are all connected, and therefore co-responsible. Nonself, rather than demolishing agency, recognizes that our every action and non-action affects others. The result is unselfish thought and action wherein individuals work to relieve suffering and realize enlightenment, for themselves and others.9 3

Interdependence in Ethical Constructivism

An experiential understanding of interbeing and seeing the self and others as intimately related naturally leads to a less self-centered focus in life. According to ethical constructivism, one’s identities determine both moral together, they will create a hell on Earth. The surroundings they live in, their daily lives, and their relationships will all be hellish. If two people full of misunderstanding live together, they create a hell realm for each other. How much greater the hell of one thousand people!” And “To make hell into paradise, we only need to change the mind on which it is based…. The mind of the people is the basis of paradise. With your deluded mind, you make hell for yourself. With your true mind, you make paradise.” (The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, p. 248.) 8 Chogyam Trungpa, Recitation of the Training Rules. The Chapter of Octads. Atthaka Vagga, 15. Discourse on Violence. Speaking of someone who betrayed you, Thich Nhat Hahn says, “We are all co-responsible, and if you hold onto the attitude of blame, the situation will only get worse…. Look deeply into the nature of your suffering so you will know what to do and what not to do to restore the relationship” (The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, p. 251). 9 “Regarding Ideal Behaviour,” the Sutra says: “Lay members should abstain from all unkindness, stealing, unchastity, lying, duplicity, slander, frivolous talk, covetousness, malice, currying favour, and false teachings…. In the case of advanced bhikshus, they have other rules to follow and should feel all the more shame, fear, and remorse for any failure to observe the minor precepts…. [T]hey should endeavor, by their example, to induce all beings to abandon evil and practice the good” (The Diamond Sutra).

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and non-moral commitments to others who are involved in those identities. When the Buddhist concept of interbeing is paired with this foundation, it intensifies the meaning of the ethical commitments one already has and grows a deeper awareness and obligation to all others through the moral identity, as well. Ethical constructivism can easily embrace interbeing, as the similarities between Buddhism and constructivism underpin such usage. Moreover, the ethical constructivist need not accept the bold claims that Buddhists make regarding the nature of conditioned existence (which for Kantians is the noumenal realm). Thus, the ethical constructivist can provide an account on which the self is autonomous and the source of moral obligation. Interbeing illuminates how giving to others is a way of giving to oneself, and how others’ losses are also losses for oneself. Therefore, the dichotomy between selfish and selfless reasons is displaced in a fully enlightened person. According to the Kantian (and most of Western philosophy), people are not metaphysically ‘one,’ nor can they obtain perspective-independent truth of the noumenal realm (or ding an sich) via meditation. However, as philosophers, we need not accept that emptiness, nonself, and nirvana are the end products of the perceived interdependence of selves upon each other. For the constructivist, I argue that what results from interdependence are rather deepened moral obligations to others within an autonomous framework. Interconnectedness can be clearly observed both experientially and theoretically within the phenomenal realm. All lives depend on other lives, and upon certain conditions. Humans need not only to be birthed, but they rely on their mother’s care for years. They count on the stability of the earth below them, the fertility of the soil, and on the right atmospheric conditions (such as rain and sun) to produce the food necessary for survival and growth. Farmers and other relatively self-reliant individuals know that they are far from independent. It may be easier to understand interconnectedness when one is close to the sources upon which one relies. That may be why some cultures that are more removed from modern society and subsist on farming have embraced views that depend on respect for the earth, animals, and other humans. Today, modern people rely on a complex network of billions of other people across the world to maintain their biological, social, psychological, and economic welfare. People feel disconnected from the sources upon which they rely because they are plentiful and therefore easy to take for granted. Yet, there is a concrete chain that connects each person to countless individuals and circumstances. This is evident by examining even one of the products that modern humans use today. The computer I write upon depends on Japan’s manufacturing industry, the materials that the earth supplies, and the methods

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that scientists develop, as well as on the workers who mine, and those who assemble and test it. I would not have my computer without those who transport the goods from Japan to the United States via ships or planes and then to my door via trucks. My internet relies on even more people and circumstances. The coffee I drink every morning has a similar chain of genesis. My research itself relies on many brilliant minds who also wrote books and on all of those who played a role in my education. Therefore, the writing of this book took billions of people. If I value my personal ambition of writing a great book on ethical constructivism that successfully grounds a third way metaethical theory which is more convincing than realism and subjectivism, then I should also value every single individual, object, and circumstance that makes it possible to achieve that ambition. The ambition itself appears to be private and non-moral. However, it implies far-reaching interconnections to others. Interdependence in the way described still falls short of implying true moral obligation. Moral obligation respects people regardless of their usefulness. Under constructivism, moral obligation is already grounded in the universal moral identity, though, so moral obligation does not rely on interconnectedness for its survival. However, as the boundaries between the self and others and between the moral and non-moral identities relax, the distinctions between them cease to be as important. The reflective endorsement of identities and emergent reasons on Enlightenism are personal, yet they do not lead to a subjective morality (and cannot lead to it). Rather, just as Buddhism attests, the ‘I,’ ‘you,’ ‘he,’ ‘she,’ ‘it,’ and ‘them’ are all interrelated. The moral identity becomes particularly strong, with correspondently deep moral reasons, when people begin to see that things that they formerly thought of as independent are in reality interdependent. That all selves are interwoven together creates a relationship between the self and others whereby others just are an extension of the self. As one realizes the depth of interdependence, which we may call ‘constructivist enlightenment,’ the divergence between moral and non-moral identities also becomes less meaningful. The moral and non-moral identities are interdependent upon each other, as absolute and relative truth are interdependent upon each other. The reflectively-endorsed desire to treat oneself well implies that one has a reason not only to treat oneself well, but also to do the same for all others. Any non-moral practical identity implies relationship-born obligations to billions of other beings, objects, and states of affairs. Morality is universal; it is a deep and an inescapable part of who we are. It confronts us in everything we do.

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Selfishness and Altruism in Constructivism

By accepting a non-metaphysically robust form of interconnectedness, one that does not abolish the self, the ethical constructivist can more effectively answer the challenges raised in Chapter 10. If people are interconnected, then distinctions between selfish and altruistic people that troubled ethical constructivism are clearly answerable. More selfish people have reason to be less selfish, but they do not have a reason to make transformative changes within their identities to become altruistic (which is a good thing). And through the insight of interbeing, people can move towards greater peace together, which is a precondition of behaving more morally towards others who are strangers and are different from them. It should now be clear why I named my ethical constructivist theory ‘Enlightenism.’ Enlightenism shows that people’s awareness of their own identities and mental states, and their ideal reflection on them given certain circumstances, constitutes having legitimate reasons. In addition, having particularly well-reflected upon reasons requires enlightenment (which is the understanding of the interconnectedness of all beings). Understanding the connections between oneself and others implies caring for others as an extension of oneself. Interdependence creates particularly strong ties between people and between the moral and non-moral identities. Seeing the other as an extension of the self has wide-ranging practical consequences for Enlightenism that liberates it entirely from relativism. Individuals need not choose between the self and others; rather, they should choose what is best, taking into consideration the web not just of their own concerns, but of all concerns that are legitimate survivals of reflection. In addition, constructivism can distinguish between the variety of people’s devotion to the moral identity. Under Enlightenism, people may legitimately prioritize their selfish concerns over more humanitarian concerns, as long as they eliminate desires that are immoral, but the more that individuals recognize their interbeing with others, the more they will naturally begin to consider others and become less self-centered. It is crucial to recognize that if people attempt to be moral by simply simulating Gandhi or Mother Teresa, that their own moral life and contributions will be less worthy than if their actions emanated from their own authentic selves. Those who mimic the moral callings of others do not lead their own autonomously-directed lives. Rather, they continue to contribute to their own enslavement to an external standard instead of to their freedom and genuine morality. Therefore, it is only through recognizing our own individuality

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that we can become fully integrated and moral. It is only through treading our own paths in the world and reflecting on our own selves and concerns that we will find our own authentic reasons. The goal of becoming a better person requires that a person maintain oneself in the process. On Enlightenism, it is now clear that people often have reasons to become more invested in others and in their relationships than they do to singly pursue personal goals such as becoming a great artist, a rock star, or the most respected philosopher of the 21st Century. When people realize that they are interdependent on others in all aspects of their lives, they will come to see that others are an extension of themselves. My neighbor’s success is my success, an enlightened person may say. Enlightened people want to see others flourish as well as themselves. While everyone does not have a reason to see to it that my friend Jennifer becomes a great artist, everyone naturally has care and compassion for those to whom they are connected, and so if I am in my most whole self, I will support Jennifer under most circumstances. Enlightened individuals are likely to reframe their own goals once they embrace interdependence. Instead of the goal to become ‘the best,’ enlightened people will seek to be ‘great.’ This is because being the best artist requires Jennifer to compete with others and that entails that others lose. Greatness, on the other hand, has no such champion-take-all mentality. Greatness in anything depends on countless factors falling into place for a person. That means that there are many others to whom all enlightened great individuals will be grateful. Everyone who has personal ambitions and is enlightened will see their interdependence on others. Others are co-responsible for their success and others’ success is their success. People who understand interdependence therefore have reasons to be less selfish. Here is one way of summarizing the most important practical rules that emerge from Enlightenism. In bold are the doctrines argued for throughout this book that are related to the guidelines listed: 1.

2. 3.

Heed obligations that spring from the moral identity. Respect yourself and others. Refrain from lying, manipulating, harming, and ill-intentioned activities (with regard to yourself and others). THE MORAL IDENTITY IS NECESSARY. Be authentic to yourself. Know your practical identities and your central concerns in life. Create goals with these visions in mind. Act according to your own self. THE SOURCE OF REASONS IS WITHIN YOUR OWN SELF. Attempt to reflect well on your relevant practical identities when considering how to act. Act from a sense of wholeness. CREATE REASONS FROM THE STANDPOINT OF IDEAL REFLECTION UPON YOUR RELEVANT IDENTITIES (ENLGIHTENISM).

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5.

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When your reasons and obligations seem to conflict with each other, go back to those identities, values, and goals that form the more central part of you – those areas you care about the most – and prioritize them. PRIORITIZE ACCORDING TO WHAT IS MOST CENTRAL TO YOUR SELF (THE CONCERN ACCOUNT). See the interconnectedness of your life with much of the world around. Care about others as you care for yourself. (INTERCONNECTEDNESS IS AN ENLIGHTENED WAY OF SEEING YOURSELF AND THE WORLD AROUND YOU, WHICH MEANS THAT WE ARE ALL CO-RESPONSIBLE FOR OUR WORLD).

Individuals who adopt those guidelines in practice are all very good. Therefore, when interbeing is a part of Enlightenism, people will not be very selfish at all. Still, some people will be relatively selfish compared to extreme altruists like Gandhi and Mother Teresa. If people decide to spend their time devoting themselves to philosophy or art instead of helping to liberate a nation or caring ceaselessly for those who are ill, however, it does not mean that they are normatively better than others who abide by Enlightenism. This is because the philosophers and artists, while being true to themselves, will also be helping other individuals. Furthermore, there is not always more helpfulness in liberating a nation or caring for those who are ill than for doing philosophy, art, or other activities. This is for three reasons: 1. Philosophy and art are also goods in society, 2. If everyone went into the caring professions, there would be a lack of improvement in other areas, and 3. If everyone is interconnected, then philosophy, art, political liberation, and recovery from illness are all interconnected. This third point is highly significant. Some people who are ill are helped by philosophy or art; political liberation often starts with the philosophers and artists suggesting a new ideology. In fact, history is rife with examples that demonstrate that advances in medicine and politics owe much of their progress to philosophers and artists. On the other hand, it is hard to do much in philosophy and art without a decent amount of political stability and health. The importance of realizing one’s interdependence on countless others leads to a question regarding the moral status of those who do not yet realize or act on their interdependence with others. To that I answer that my task here is not to determine the proportion and magnitude of a person’s moral or psychological failing due to a lack of enlightenment. That is a subject that deserves its own examination. Instead, in the following section, I sketch why at least some cases of perceived moral failings are instead no-fault psychological matters. I argue that investment in others depends on the psychological feature of feeling safe.

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Animal Psychology, Peace, and Ethics

One of the most prized conditions in human society is peace. However, a lack of peace is not always an ethical problem; it is very often a psychological problem. Until people feel safe, it is highly unlikely they will be able to freely give of themselves to others. In our home, we have three cats, and each time one was introduced to the household, there were weeks of fights. When they were in the same room without our careful observation and interference, they would hiss, growl, scratch, and bite each other. Now, all three cats cuddle together for hours each day. The most dominant one allows the least dominant one to eat food first. Furthermore, they lick each other far more often than they lick themselves. They did not abide by an ethical principle to accomplish such seeming moral behavior. Rather, they began to feel safe around each other. When most animals feel safe and do not need to compete with each other for resources, they are peaceful, happy, and naturally generous with each other. No one can force a scared cat to feel safe around animals or people. The adjustment usually happens slowly and with patient experimentation. Those who attempt to discipline cats to obey an external rule often have anxious, angry, or secretive animal companions. Animals who feel unsafe are unable to unfold into a loving nature. Humans are also animals, and like other species, peace is often a function of our psychological safety, not our ethics. If we force ourselves to follow principles that feel dangerous to us, we are unlikely to become fully respectful, kind, and loving beings. Instead, people who feel unsafe will see their lives as a series of battles. They will defend their resources for fear that they will not have enough of what they feel they need to be safe and stable. The slogan “just give peace a chance” misses a major point: if we do not feel safe enough to let our guards down, then peace will not be the result. In a hostile environment, giving peace a chance may more likely result in harm and manipulation of those who are already marginalized. History is replete with such instances. The American Indians and the West Africans were both irreparably damaged due to trusting strangers that they treated as visitors instead of as enemies. How can peace be made between people who do not trust each other? As a start, it is helpful if the two parties live together and observe each other until they recognize the other as safe. This can be expedited if a third impartial party gives to both parties equally and sets aside spaces and resources that they can call their own. As rational animals, we can reason and communicate together. If our words and actions are consistent, and our system of responding to each other is reliable, then we will be able to develop trust more quickly.

Interdependence and Self-Interest in Ethical Constructivism

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People may enter into relationships with others and refrain from taking on the other’s reasons in order to protect themselves as they feel out the other party. This may occur between two groups of people with different goals and identities, or it may take place between two individuals. It is an unwise decision to take another person’s reasons as public reasons to help them without knowing the other person and feeling safe. For example, it is inappropriate to take a date’s reason to have sex with you on your first meeting as a reason for you to do so without also having that desire. It might be similarly inappropriate to force warring factions in the Middle East to trust each other and give generously to each other without both parties first feeling safe. Only once individuals and groups feel safe with one another is it possible to be more invested in sharing each other’s reasons. On the view I am suggesting, people always have moral reasons as members of humanity to show respect towards others. However, in order for their reasons to be activated they first must trust each other. And trust is a psychological (not an ethical) stumbling block. On Enlightenism, the reasons we should act on are those that we would act on if we were ideally reflecting on all of our relevant practical identities. Enlightenism requires that people’s desires be endorsed from the perspective of their most relevant identities, and it always includes the perspective of the moral identity. Sometimes, ideal reflection will warn us to run from someone who we think intends us harm or it will caution us to stop being a doormat for others to use. Other times, it may tell us to extend a hand, forgive, and cooperate with someone who formerly harmed us. The circumstances for acting in such ways will differ for individuals given their circumstances since their resources and ability to retreat to safety varies. The point is that everything must be in place for a person to autonomously and authentically take on a reason. Reasons should not be forced on us from the outside, whether from a rule or another person. Rather, autonomous individuals in favorable conditions will reflect well and create consistent and satisfying moral and non-moral reasons. The result is constructivist enlightenment, wherein people are naturally motivated from their authentic selves to play an active role in making the world around them a better place. They give gratitude to others for things they judge as good and take co-responsibility with others for those things they judge as bad. In such a universe, greater autonomy and understanding of the self leads to more moral and unselfish reasons and actions.

Conclusion Ethical constructivism is the only alternative candidate to the two traditional views of metaethics. The neo-Kantian approach utilizes transcendental arguments to show how it is possible to ground objectively-valid moral obligations in the subjective mental states of individuals. Other attempts to produce a third way metaethical theory (such as contractarianism and constructionism) collapse into realism or subjectivism. Genuine moral obligation does not rely on a mutually beneficial contract, and it defies any attempt to claim that our unique perspectives are worthless in determining our moral obligations. A first endeavor by Christine Korsgaard to give a comprehensive account of constructivism results in the same fate: it drops into a deep relativism and has vastly counterintuitive consequences. Korsgaard’s arguments and views are instructive, however. My mission in this book is to show that ethical constructivism is salvageable and to develop an account that can rival realism and subjectivism. Ethical constructivism can consistently and convincingly capture our intuitions about the content of our moral obligations without lapsing into subjectivism. My theory, Enlightenism, argues that all people have moral obligations, and that if they reflect well enough, they will come to naturally care about others as extensions of themselves. It is action-guiding and it embraces autonomy and diversity. Enlightenism avoids criticisms that it is disguised subjectivism because unlike Korsgaard’s theory, it places limits on the creation of reasons from desires. Under Enlightenism, our reasons are those that we would accept under ideal reflection on our relevant identities and mental states. Whereas Korsgaard’s thoroughgoing strong constructivism permits immoral reasons, on Enlightenism, immoral and irrational desires are not even candidates for reason-hood. Instead of indicating that reasons emerge from an individual’s actual endorsement of their desires from the perspective of any practical identity, Enlightenism requires that individuals’ desires be endorsed from the perspective of their most relevant practical identities to the concern at hand. Since it is always relevant, reflection always includes the perspective of the moral identity. If immoral or irrational desires are endorsed by agents, they do not become reasons because (unlike Korsgaard’s account) actual endorsement is inadequate to ground normativity. Enlightenism resolves the major issues with Korsgaard’s constructivism (that it lapses into subjectivism and permits immoral reasons) by providing more rigorous criteria for the transformation of desires into reasons.

© Heather Salazar, 2022 | doi:10.1163/9789004471078_015

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Furthermore, Enlightenism makes room for private reasons. Private reasons have normative force for particular agents that depend on their interests and goals. On Korsgaard’s theory all reasons are public, so every reason that each individual has generates complementary reasons for all others to help that person realize their goal. This results in an unintuitively large quantity of reasons and it impedes the autonomy of individuals. The publicity of all reasons entails that we have reasons to help people win competitions in which we ourselves are competing, which fails to capture the significance of competition for mates, jobs, and in special interests. In addition, it is morally objectionable since it gives more power to individuals who are demanding, selfish, and possibly immoral. I argue that it is permissible for people to refuse to answer back to cat-callers, for example. In these instances, when people ask or demand something, there is no need to take their reason on board as one’s own reason. This recognizes greater autonomy for individuals. It allows people to stay safe, it gives them reasons to pursue hobbies and interests that they have in relation to a goal or preference of their own, and it allows for more respect and diversity within all domains, including within ethics. I argue that Enlightenism should allow for some reasons that are public and some others that are private. Some kinds of reasons (such as reasons of autonomy and obligation) appear to be private. People’s particular interests and ambitions have normative force only for them; it is also permissible for people to have greater obligations to their friends and family than to strangers. Not everyone has the same level of obligation towards others. This explains the intuitive difference between types of reasons, such as the seeming universal reason to help a child who is lost, versus a more personal reason to become a great artist. Reasons often conflict, and in those cases, a moral theory should be able to suggest which reasons are stronger. I examine four possible accounts and recommend that we prioritize some reasons above others if they are closer to the center of our own web of identities and concerns. Those people, things, and goals that we care about more carry more normative force for us. One person prioritizes work, another family. Some are invested in politics, and others in sports. In this way, each person’s web of concerns is highly individualistic. The use of Buddhist concepts such as interdependence, nonself, and co-responsibility deepen the obligations that people have to people, animals, and the environment. In Buddhism, the absolute can only be seen through the relative; likewise in constructivism, deep morality is normative only through the relationship we have with ourselves. Constructivist enlightenment entails understanding the interdependence of people on others such that we are

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co-responsible for the world in which we live. People who devote themselves to famine relief are not necessarily better than those who devote themselves to art or philosophy. Everyone plays a role in the creation and betterment of the world in which we live. When we see others as an extension of ourselves, we naturally care for others. Our moral obligations become less burdensome and more welcome. There are great advantages in ethical constructivism. Enlightenism is one attempt to develop a consistent and plausible third way metaethical theory. Ethical constructivism is feasible. It is my hope that this book will inspire more research, discussion, and advancement in constructivism to take place.

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Index absolute truth 171–174, 177, 180 acting self 36 actual endorsement 94, 100–101, 104, 113, 128, 167–168, 188 agent-neutral 26, 72, 115, 117–119, 122–125, 127–130, 136–139, See also public reason agent-relative 26, 67, 72, 115, 117–118, 121–123, 125, 127, 130, 136–137, 139, See also private reason altruistic 157–158, 160–162, 164, 175, 183 animal will 17 autonomy 2, 5, 7–8, 15–17, 62, 73, 81, 92, 112, 115–117, 119–121, 123, 125–130, 162, 164, 175, 188–189 Bagnoli, Carla 17, 19–20, 191 Bodisattva vow 170 Buddhism 1, 4, 7, 111, 163–173, 175–179, 181–182, 189, 191, 193 Madhyamaka school 171–172 Mahayana 163, 171–172, 177 Middle Way school 177 tantric 163, 172, 178 Tibetan Buddhism 163, 177 Zen 176–177, 191 Categorical Imperative 17, 19, 79, 95, 118 Chogyam Trungpa 180 communicability 21, 35–37, 41 compassionate action 178–179 competition 117, 128 concern account 142–143, 145, 151–152, 164 conditioned existence 171, 179, 181, See also relative truth conflicting reasons 7, 76, 103, 141 constructive publicity 3–5, 22, 33–34, 38–40, 45, 48, 54, 69, 81, 123 Constructivism Thesis 5–6, 22–23, 66, 68–70 contractarian 15–19, 22, 28 co-responsibility 178 counterfactual reasons 112, 114, 139 Dalai Lama 178, 191 deontological reason 67

difference between reasons 135 difference within reasons 136 ding an sich 173–174, 181 diversity 7–8, 78, 188–189 divine command theory 11, 76, 79 efficacy account 142, 145–146 emptiness 172, 178, 181 Enlightenism 1, 3, 6–7, 23, 62–63, 66, 71–72, 92, 94, 103–104, 109–110, 113–117, 124, 128, 134, 138–141, 143, 155, 161, 164–165, 167–168, 175, 182–185, 187–190 enlightenment 1, 7, 111, 164, 168–170, 172–173, 176–180, 182–183, 185, 187, 189 entrenchment account 142, 145, 148–152 external authority 15, 168 externalist 13, 39 felt obligation 55 Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning 5, 33, 52–53, See FNPM Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning (FNP M) 52 Forced Normativity Premise for Reasons (FNP R) 55, 58–59, 62 Formula of Autonomy, See Kingdom of Ends Four Noble Truths 165, 169, 179 Gauthier, David 16, 71, 191 Good Will 76, 110 group size account 142, 145 Hanh, Thich Nhat 163, 172, 191 Hare, Richard 71 heteronomous will 17 Hill, Thomas 16, 191 Hume, David 3, 13–16, 20, 71, 73, 78, 191 ideal reflection 93–94, 104–107, 110–112, 114, 128, 139, 167–168, 175, 183, 187–188 immoral reasons 92, 98–104, 112–113, 117, 124, 128, 168, 188 imperative force 17, 67, 87, 133, 135, 138–139, 154, 157 Instantaneous actions 113

195

Index integrity 5, 33, 85, 114, 116, 155, 159–160, 164 interconnectedness 173, 179, 181–183, 185 interdependence 1, 7, 70, 169, 171, 179–182, 184–185, 189 internalism 13, 16 Intersubjectivism 86, 88–89, See also Publicity as Shareability Kant, Immanuel 1, 12, 17–21, 26–29, 32, 42, 52, 79–80, 95–96, 110–111, 118–120, 122–129, 154, 173–174, 191–192 Kingdom of Ends 1, 3, 20, 26, 192 Korsgaard, Christine 1–7, 17, 19–52, 54–60, 62, 65–72, 76, 78, 80–92, 94–103, 111–113, 115–130, 133, 136–139, 143–144, 148, 150, 153, 159, 167–168, 175, 188–189, 191–192 Lama Govinda 176 Lama Yeshe 179, 193 linguistic consciousness 5, 22, 33, 43–49, 51–55, 60, 65, 70, 88, 116 manipulation 111, 140, 179, 186 metaethical constructivism 1, 4–5, 7, 21, 42 mind-dependent 1–2, 7, 23, 34, 68, 92 Moore, G.E. 11, 192 moral identity 28–29, 65, 90, 93–94, 98, 100–101, 104, 107, 110, 112, 114–115, 139, 150, 155–156, 158–159, 161, 167–168, 170, 181–184, 187–188 motivational force 2, 13, 15, 18, 67, 122 Nagarjuna 171, 177, 191 Nagel, Thomas 32, 68, 71, 73–74, 79, 115–117, 121, 126, 136 naturalism 8, 12–14, 18 neo-Humean 28 neo-Kantian 1–2, 20–21, 30–31, 66, 71, 95 nirvana 170, 172–173, 177, 179, 181 Noble Eightfold Path 165–168, 176, 178–180 nonself 163–164, 177–178, 181, 189 normative constructivism 1 normative force 11–12, 16, 22–23, 26, 56, 67–69, 73, 75, 77, 82, 115–117, 126, 145, 170, 189 noumenal 173–174, 181 objective realist, See Realist

objective reason 12, 75–77 objective validity 96 peace 61, 147, 169, 175, 183, 186 personal ambitions, See reasons of autonomy personal project 120, 122, 126, 137–138, 140, See Reasons of Ambition phenomenal 173, 181 practical identity 22, 28–29, 65, 88–90, 91, 95–96, 98, 102, 104–105, 112–113, 115, 144, 159, 168–170, 182, 184, 187–188 Private Language Argument 34–35, 37–42, 60, 70, 115 procedural publicity 25–26, 32, 38 Procedural Thesis 18–19, 95 Publicity as Shareability 1, 21–22, 32, 45–46, 60, 65, 68–70, 88, 91, 167 publicity of meanings 4, 33–34, 38, 41–42, 59 publicity of reasons 3–5, 22, 25–26, 32–34, 38–39, 41, 45–46, 50, 69, 116, 118, 121, 139 Publicity Thesis 5, 23–24, 66, 68–70, 81 PT 23, 69, 70–71 PT S 68–71, 81–82, 93, See Publicity Thesis PT W 68–71, 81–82, 93, See Publicity Thesis Putnam, Hilary 19–20, 39, 97, 192 Quine, W. V.O. 148, 193 radical constructivism 19–21, 23, 105, 148, 159, 161 rational will 17–18 Rawls, John 1, 17–21, 26, 42, 71–72, 193 realism 1–2, 12, 16, 18, 21, 23, 25–26, 34, 37–40, 42, 66, 68, 72–73, 76–77, 79, 81, 94, 96–97, 101, 103–104, 114–115, 124, 134, 136–139, 142, 161–162, 164, 175, 182, 188 reason of obligation 117 reasons of autonomy 116–117, 119, 125–128, 130, 140 reflective endorsement 8, 81, 89, 101, 118, 139, 170, 182 reflective success 27, 99, 102 relative truth 171–172, 177, 182 relevant identities 93–94, 104, 106–107, 109–110, 112, 114–115, 134, 139, 167–168, 175, 187–188 Right Action 165, 176

196 Right Concentration 166 Right Effort 166 Right Intention 165, 176 Right Livelihood 166, 176 Right Mindfulness 166–167 Right Speech 165, 167, 176 Right View 165, 167, 171, 176 Scanlon, T.M. 16, 193 selfishness 1, 57–58, 111, 143, 156–158, 160–164, 175, 181, 183–185, 189 shareability shareable 3–4, 7, 21, 35–37, 40–42, 45, 67 shared 3, 5–8, 36–37, 43, 45, 48, 55, 62, 70, 88, 115, 162–163 simple request 59, 82 simulated morality 16 smaller than humanity reasons 6, 89–90, 145, 148 Sogyal Rinpoche 176, 193 special obligations 28, 56, 92, 115 Street, Sharon 17, 148, 193 strong constructivism 71, 81–82, 92, 103, 115, 117, 121, 128, 134, 138, 188 subjectivism 1–2, 4, 13–14, 17–18, 20–22, 23, 25, 66, 68, 71–73, 78–79, 81, 84, 94, 96–97, 99, 102–104, 114–115, 142, 162, 164, 168, 175, 182, 188 suffering 75–76, 134, 136, 159, 164–168, 170–171, 176, 178, 180 supernaturalism 11–12, 14, 18 the Deductive Strategy 4, 22, 33, 42–43, 45, 52–53, 59–61, 70, 97

Index The Forced Normativity Premise for Meaning, See FNPM The Forced Normativity Premise for Reasons, See FNPR the Inductive Strategy 4, 22, 33–35, 38–43, 97 The Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument, See PLCA Publicity of Linguistic Consciousness Argument (PLCA) 45, 47, 53 thinking self 36 thoroughgoing constructivism 3, 19–21, 92, 94–97, 99, 101–103, 117, 124, 127–128, 133–134, 136, 138, 169, 188 Traleg Kyabgon 177 transcendental argument 17, 174, 188 transformational change 105, 159–160, 175, 183 unconditioned existence 172–174 universality 3, 5–8, 69, 78, 80–82, 88, 90, 164 Universality Thesis 5, 24, 67, 69–70, 72, 81, 91, 115 weak constructivism 24, 62, 71, 81, 93, 117 weak realism 72, 79, 115 web of beliefs 148 web of identities 148, 150, 154, 156–157, 159, 189 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 34–37, 42, 48, 70, 115, 139, 192–193