It is possible, of course, to have motivations for acting morally that are not self-interested. One may value benevolence for its own sake, for example, and so desire to act benevolently as often as possible. In that case, the question “Why should I be moral?” would amount to asking whether moral behaviour (whatever it may entail) is the best means of fulfilling one’s desire to act benevolently. If it is, then being moral is “rational” for any person who has such a desire (at least according to the conception of reason inherited from Hume—i.e., reason is not a source of moral value but merely a means of realizing the values one already has). Accordingly, in much published discussion of this issue in the late 20th century, the question “Why should I be moral?” was often cast in terms of rationality—i.e., as equivalent to the question “Is it rational to be moral?” (It is important to note that the latter question does not refer to the Humean problem of deriving a moral judgment from reason alone. The problem, on Hume’s conception of reason, is rather this: given an individual with a certain set of desires, is behaving morally the best means for him to fulfill those desires?)
In its general form, considered apart from any particular desire, the question “Is it rational to be moral?” is not answerable. Everything depends on the particular desires one is assumed to have. Substantive discussion of the question, therefore, tended to focus on the case of an individual who is fully rational and psychologically normal, and who thus has all the desires such a person could plausibly be assumed to have, including some that are self-interested and others that are altruistic.
As mentioned earlier, Brandt wished to restrict the application of moral terms to the “rational” desires and preferences an individual presumably would be left with after undergoing cognitive psychotherapy. Because such desires would include those that are altruistic, such as the desire to act benevolently and the desire to avoid dishonesty, Brandt’s position entails that the moral behaviour by means of which such desires are fulfilled is rational. On the other hand, even a fully rational (i.e., fully analyzed) person, as Brandt himself acknowledged, would have some self-interested desires, and there can be no guarantee that such desires would always be weaker than altruistic desires in cases where the two conflict. Brandt therefore seemed to be committed to the view that it is at least occasionally rational to be immoral.
The American philosopher Thomas Nagel was one of the first contemporary moral philosophers to challenge Hume’s thesis that reason alone is incapable of motivating moral action. In The Possibility of Altruism (1969), he argued that, if Hume’s thesis is true, then the ordinary idea of prudence—i.e., the idea that one’s future pains and pleasures are just as capable of motivating one to act (and to act now) as are one’s present pains and pleasures—is incoherent. Once one accepts the rationality of prudence, he continued, a very similar line of argument would lead one to accept the rationality of altruism—i.e., the idea that the pains and pleasures of other individuals are just as capable of motivating one to act as are one’s own pains and pleasures. This means that reason alone is capable of motivating moral action; hence, it is unnecessary to appeal to self-interest or to benevolent feelings. In later books, including The View from Nowhere (1986) and The Last Word (1997), Nagel continued to explore these ideas, but he made it clear that he did not support the strong thesis that some reviewers took to be implied by the argument of The Possibility of Altruism—that altruism is not merely rational but rationally required. His position was rather that altruism is one among several courses of action open to rational beings. The American philosopher Christine Korsgaard, in The Sources of Normativity (1996), tried to defend a stronger view along Kantian lines; she argued that one is logically compelled to regard his own humanity—that is, his freedom to reflect on his desires and to act from reasons—as a source of value, and consistency therefore requires him to regard the humanity of others in the same way. Korsgaard’s critics, however, contended that she had failed to overcome the obstacle that prevented Sidgwick from successfully refuting egoism: the objection that the individual’s own good provides him with a motivation for action in a way that the good of others does not.
As this brief survey has shown, the issues that divided Plato and the Sophists were still dividing moral philosophers in the early 21st century. Ironically, the one position that had few defenders among contemporary philosophers was Plato’s view that good refers to an idea or property that exists independently of anyone’s attitudes, desires, or conception of himself and his relation to society—on this point the Sophists appeared to have won out at last. Yet, there remained ample room for disagreement about whether or in what ways reason can bring about moral judgments. There also remained the dispute about whether moral judgments can be true or false. On the other central question of metaethics, the relationship between morality and self-interest, a complete reconciliation between the two continued to prove as elusive as it did for Sidgwick a century before. Normative ethics The debate over consequentialism
Normative ethics seeks to set norms or standards for conduct. The term is commonly used in reference to the discussion of general theories about what one ought to do, a central part of Western ethics since ancient times. Normative ethics continued to occupy the attention of most moral philosophers during the early years of the 20th century, as Moore defended a form of consequentialism and as intuitionists such as W.D. Ross advocated an ethics based on mutually independent duties. The rise of logical positivism and emotivism in the 1930s, however, cast the logical status of normative ethics into doubt: was it not simply a matter of what attitudes one had? Nor was the analysis of language, which dominated philosophy in English-speaking countries during the 1950s, any more congenial to normative ethics. If philosophy could do no more than analyze words and concepts, how could it offer guidance about what one ought to do? The subject was therefore largely neglected until the 1960s, when emotivism and linguistic analysis were both in retreat and moral philosophers once again began to think about how individuals ought to live.
A crucial question of normative ethics is whether actions are to be judged right or wrong solely on the basis of their consequences. Traditionally, theories that judge actions by their consequences were called “teleological,” and theories that judge actions by whether they accord with a certain rule were called “deontological.” Although the latter term continues to be used, the former has been largely replaced by the more straightforward term “consequentialist.” The debate between consequentialist and deontological theories has led to the development of a number of rival views in both camps. Varieties of consequentialism
The simplest form of consequentialism is classical utilitarianism, which holds that every action is to be judged good or bad according to whether its consequences do more than any alternative action to increase—or, if that is impossible, to minimize any decrease in—the net balance of pleasure over pain in the universe. This view was often called “hedonistic utilitarianism.”
The normative position of G.E. Moore is an example of a different form of consequentialism. In the final chapters of the aforementioned Principia Ethica and also in Ethics (1912), Moore argued that the consequences of actions are decisive for their morality, but he did not accept the classical utilitarian view that pleasure and pain are the only consequences that matter. Moore asked his readers to picture a world filled with all possible imaginable beauty but devoid of any being who can experience pleasure or pain. Then the reader is to imagine another world, as ugly as can be but equally lacking in any being who experiences pleasure or pain. Would it not be better, Moore asked, that the beautiful world rather than the ugly world exist? He was clear in his own mind that the answer was affirmative, and he took this as evidence that beauty is good in itself, apart from the pleasure it brings. He also considered friendship and other close personal relationships to have a similar intrinsic value, independent of their pleasantness. Moore thus judged actions by their consequences, but not solely by the amount of pleasure or pain they produced. Such a position was once called “ideal utilitarianism,” because it is a form of utilitarianism based on certain ideals. From the late 20th century, however, it was more frequently referred to as “pluralistic consequentialism.” Consequentialism thus includes, but is not limited to, utilitarianism.