Judith Jarvis Thomson paper, “Self-Defense,” offers a general criterion for when it is permissible to kill in self-defense. She argues that somebody who violates “your rights that they not kill you, therefore lack rights that you not kill them.” (302) She further offers three types of cases where killing in self-defense is impermissible – the common factor being the innocent bystander. These impermissibility cases preclude agent-relative permissions, which, this paper argues, is done on faulty grounds. Thomson’s model cannot overlook the explanatory power of agent-relative permissions, and her explanation does not give a satisfactory reason to jettison the idea.

Thomson finds three cases where one is permitted to kill in self-defense; notably, they all involve an offender’s violation to one’s right to life. First, there is the case of the villainous aggressor (283) – for instance, somebody who would like to kill you by running you over with a truck. Second, there is the case of the innocent aggressor (284) – here, some drug made an innocent person go mad to the point of running you over with a truck. Finally, there is the case of an innocent threat (287) – the illustration here is a villain rolling a fat man, who will crush you upon impact, down a hill. All these cases threaten our right to life, but there are some stipulations noted by Thomson.

Thomson refines her view further in a number of ways. First, self-defense also captures cases of “grave bodily harm” (286). In such cases, the action taken may only be minimal – for instance, a punch on the shoulder would not merit killing the attacker. However, action do not have to be strictly proportionate; in other words, I am permitted use more force than is threatened against me, say, in cases of rape or grievous bodily harm. (286) Second, there is an asymmetry with violent aggressor cases in that violent aggressors relinquish their self-defense rights with respect to their victim; in other words, violent aggressors may not reciprocate their victims defensive action. Third, a third party may intervene on behalf of the victim but not on behalf of the aggressor or threat. There is something different about villainous aggressor cases verses the innocent aggressor cases and the innocent threat cases[1], but the status of the aggressor (i.e. the fault) does no “moral work” (286). Rather, it is in virtue of the fact that there is a threat to the right to life that self-defense is permitted.

She then outlines three cases where it is “impermissible for you to kill a person in defense of your life.” (289) First, the “Substitution-of-a-Bystander cases” (289) are situations where an innocent bystander is put in harm’s way in place of you. Second, the “Use-of-a-Bystander cases” (290), similar to Kant’s second maxim, are situations where an innocent bystander is used harmfully for the price of your safety. Third, the “Riding-Roughshod-over-a-Bystander cases” (290) are situations where the harm of an innocent bystander has a close causal connection with your safety. She is strict insofar as the impermissibility of killing in these cases and further rejects “agent-relative permissions.” (307)

The general thought of agent-relative permission is that subjects are permitted to care more about their own good over the good of others. Accordingly, if I were to care more about my life than some bystander’s life, then I am permitted to kill an innocent bystander in each of Thomson’s three cases. Agent-relative permission seems more convincing and intuitive when combined with self-referential altruism[2]. If we could sacrifice the life of an innocent person to save our child, surely we would and think it permissible to do so. Thomson pushes back on the general claim by arguing that we lack an “across-the-board agent-relative permission,” (307) which she supports with the scenario of choosing either starving to death or eating a baby (agent-relative permissions would permit us to eat the baby). The idea is that agent-relative permissions permit too much. Maybe agent-relative permissions work with talk of trolleys and killing faceless bystanders, but it might be committed to too much if it permits cannibalism and infanticide.

However, our moral intuitions can be clouded by biases, and it might be the case that agent-relative permission accurately reflects our moral intuitions but is met with cases which appeal to our bias nature. For a moment, let us grant that agent-relative permission allows us to kill an innocent bystander to save ourselves. If this is true, should the method of death matter to us? How about the characteristics of the bystander? Perhaps a slow, painful death of the bystander puts more pain and evil in the world; perhaps if the bystander was the Archbishop of Cambrai, agent-relative permission may not be enough save us[3]. With respect to eating babies so we do not starve to death, I do not any inherent reason to object to cannibalism in a life or death scenario; however, one might object to infanticide in virtue of some maximizing principle insofar as picking the younger life over the older life. Indeed, if one were committed to this type of consequentialism, agent-relative permission would not permit us to eat the baby to save ourselves. Yet, one does not have to be committed to valuing babies over anybody else, or find infanticide inherently more wrong than any other killing. So Thomson’s argument against agent-relative permissions seems to be an emotional appeal.

Perhaps Thomson was instead appealing to our basic intuition that the mere fact of intending the death of a bystander, as agent-relative permission seems to imply, is unacceptable.  However, on Thomson’s picture, “It is irrelevant to the question whether X may do alpha what intentions X would do alpha with if he she did it.” (294) Still, there might be good reason to reject agent-relative permission by simply stating that Thomson’s model is more powerful and has no room for it. This is feasible. It might be said that agent-relative permission subsumes the crux of her theory – namely, what is relevant for self-defense is only that somebody violating your right to life loses their right that you not kill them. Moreover, her distinctive cases on impermissible self-defense seem untenable given agent-relative permission. Is Thomson’s model mutually exclusive with agent-relative permission?

There may be a way to salvage Thomson’s theory while accepting agent-relative permission. Let us make a distinction between what is permissible and what is “merely excusable.” (285) Permissible actions are morally neutral, whereas a merely excusable action implies some moral failing but does not carry blame.[4] All things considered, Thomson’s idea of permissible killing in self-defense by virtue of one’s right to life still carries the same weight. What are weakened are Thomson’s cases of impermissible killing in self-defense, where impermissibility, which entails moral failing and blame, becomes merely excusable by virtue of agent-relative permission. Still, the force of her argument stands, along with agent-relative permissions.

Agent-relative permissions seem too close to our general moral intuitions to be overlooked. Moreover, although Thomson’s model of self-defense seems convincing, her reasons for rejecting agent-relative permissions seem superficial and unsatisfactory. This paper suggests that agent-relative permissions must be held, and that they can be mapped onto Thomson’s model given distinctions of what are permissible and what are merely excusable.

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[1] Thomson leaves open the asymmetrical proportionality with respect to a threat being innocent versus a threat being villainous.

[2] I do not see any obvious problems with extending agent-relative permissions to self-referential altruism, but the argument does not depend on this point.

[3] There is a certain tacit threshold to agent-relative permission where we are permitted to care about our own good only slightly more than the good of others.

[4] For instance, crimes committed under duress are still blameworthy yet they are excused because they were committed while unlawful coerced.

Thomas Hurka and Esther Shubert (henceforth, “the authors”) offer an interesting account of permissions. The authors’ starting point is that it can be a “primitive truth that you are permitted [to pursue your own happiness].” (6) They then construct a system of ratios for a “band of permissions” to favor one’s own happiness (and freely sacrifice one’s own happiness). This paper argues that the authors’ model has an issue with self-respect and enforceable duties. By straying away from the “reason-based” accounts, the band of permissions account has tensions between moral agents who act permissibly; in other words, it is untenable within a moral community. This issue points to an underlying problem with the authors’ starting point of permissions rather than duties.

The authors begin by outlining the deficiencies in the “reason-based” accounts of agent-favoring permissions. The authors say that we generally have permissions to care more about ourselves, and the “reason-based” account says that these permissions come from a clash between “moral reasons to promote the good of all people impartially” (2) and “prudential reasons to care disproportionately about your own [good].” (2) Derek Parfit’s nuanced “reason-based” account suggests it is sometimes obvious which choice to take when impartial and partial concerns clash – for instance, “if you can give either one unit of happiness to yourself or a thousand units to another, your impersonal reason outweighs your personal one and you should prefer the thousand.” (3) However, it is not clear when the clash is smaller, like “one [unit of happiness] for yourself and six, four, or three for another.” (4) These uncertain areas, according to Parfit, are the basis for agent-favoring permissions.

The authors push back on this sort of “reason-based” account. They suggest that this approach is “misguided” (5) because the permission is derived from “more basic normative factors that aren’t themselves permissions but count positively in favour of an act.” (5) The “reason-based” accounts begin with duties, what we “ought” to do (ceteris paribus), and try to outline what we are permitted (or “may”) do.  The authors set their primitive truths as permissions (ceteris paribus) rather than constraints or duties. Parfit’s “reason-based” account starts with clashing duties and has areas of permissions where the clashing duties cannot be outweighed one way or the other. The authors find this “recherché” view counterintuitive.

Let us take a closer look at this critique. It seems right to say that Parfit’s account has the wrong rationale. It gives a sort of explanatory account of permissions which derives from some “underivative truths” (6) about duties; the authors, however, give a normative explanation which gives a justification of permissions from the outset. The aim is to justify permissions without appealing to duties (or uncertainty of weighing some duties with another), although these permissions can be “weighed against the impartial duty and in some cases will lose to it.” (5) This approach appears to capture our common sense morality and gives us a working “band of permissions.”

The idea of a “band of permissions” is supposed to demarcate just how much is permitted for “agent-favoring choices” and “agent-sacrificing choices.” (13) Reduced to units of happiness, the authors propose a ratio scheme to track agent-favoring and agent-sacrificing choices. For example, an agent-favoring ratio would be choosing one unit of happiness for yourself instead of choosing five units of happiness for another person. An interesting feature of the authors’ view is that it has room for agent-sacrificing permissions. The importance of this feature is evident when considering choices involving intimates – for instance, a husband might want to choose one unit of happiness for his wife instead of five units of happiness for himself. In essence, there is a ratio scale and a “band of permissions” designating which range of ratios is permitted. There are other various interesting aspects of this “band” theory, but only a grasp of the general idea is needed for the rest of this paper.

Let us return to the original motivation for this band theory, namely as a better alternative to “reason-based” accounts. There seems to be an issue that arises with the band theory when it is practiced within a community of other moral agents. Specifically, tensions arise when moral agents have differing bands of permission. Here I explore two instances of such tensions: areas of self-respect and areas of enforcement.

Self-respect is closely tied with agent-sacrificing permissions. In brief, self-respect is thought of as a duty to the self that encompasses things like integrity and dignity. To illustrate, a husband who constantly aims at pleasing his wife over any of his own aims to the point of undermining his own projects, needs, and general happiness can be said to be violating self-respect – for instance, (say) when he is not busy earning money to shower his wife with gifts, he spends the rest of his time washing his wife’s feet with his tears. Where does this fit on the “band” theory? It would seem that a case of self-disrespect is beyond the band of permission for agent-sacrificing. But suppose the husband believes that his band of agent-sacrificing permission extends much longer and that his actions are within the band of permissions; then, it appears his self-disrespect is merely a case of relatively extreme self-sacrifice. Luckily, the authors provide stipulations for self-respecting agent-sacrificing. They say that one must “have the following beliefs: that you’re only permitted to prefer another’s lesser happiness but have no duty to do so; that you’re also permitted to prefer your own lesser happiness, and even to do so to a greater extend; and that your mix of permissions and duties is exactly the same as everyone else’s.” (19) The final clause is of particular importance, but we will return to it after flushing out a similar tension with the authors’ model.

Now looking at the enforcement of duties, it seems that one might sometimes have a duty to enforce the duties of other moral agents. For example, you might have a duty to enforce the duty of not killing innocent people, say, if you had sniper scoped on me and I was on a murderous rampage at the local daycare. On the “band” picture, some have suggested that there are certain thresholds for enforceable duties – for instance, if I chose to favor one unit of happiness instead of a million units for somebody else.[1] With this in mind, we ask the following question: is the threshold identical for everybody? If it is not, we run into some issues. What would be over the threshold for enforcement for one person could plausibly be under the threshold for enforcement for another. It is unclear who is wrong in this picture; there is some disharmony with taking such a view. There is moreover a less ambitious point to be made. Even without talk of thresholds, what is one person’s duty can be considered a permission on another person’s account. There appears to be no unity within this “band” picture.

Both of these areas of tension, self-respect and enforced duties, point at the issue with having band of permission that is subjectively derived. There is no objectively correct band of permission to compare and judge moral choices with. Let us now return to the authors’ suggestion that the “your mix of permissions and duties is exactly the same as everyone else’s.” (19) Perhaps this means that human psychology is such that we have a univocal moral intuition so all of our bands and ratios are identical. This would solve tension; however, this seems rather ad hoc and unfeasible. It would be fair to say that there is some general form that the band of permissions takes, but tensions would arise unless they were completely identical – really, the devil is in the details. Two self-proclaimed morally ideal agents would likely question at least some of each other’s choices. By and large, permissions seem to be fairly controversial, or at least not univocal.

Perhaps the authors want to suggest that there is some band of permission that is objectively correct. This approach however seems to be a case of having your cake and eating it too. The authors jettisoned the “reason-based” account which may have this feature of objectivity. When duties are primitive, they can be appealed to as an objective criterion to analyze permissions. Take Parfit’s view for example: moral agents would not have different permissions because they have the same criterion (i.e. duties that cannot be weighed). The authors rightly point out that even Parfit’s view is not completely satisfying with respect to resolving conflicting views on permissions. That is, perhaps Parfit’s criterion for permission is equally vague since epistemic reasons are not as strong as “there being, metaphysically, completely determinate truths…” (4) The authors’ picture does not include a robust band of permission to model after or use to adjudicate what is and what is not within the band of permission.

This paper cannot offer any substantive revisions to the authors’ model, but there might be some grounds for questioning the authors’ shift of starting with permissions as a primitive truth. One peculiar aspect is how the authors’ define the nature of permission. The authors suggest that “the concepts of ought and permissions are interdefinable.” (6) It seems right to say that permissions and duties (or “oughts”) should make reference to each other if they are to be coherently defined, but the authors’ conception of permission seems too ambitious. The authors say that the strength of a permission is “its tendency to determine a normative outcome,” (7) but this makes the domain of permissions too big. Such normative outcomes can involve morally trivial cases, such as choosing the color of one’s shoes. It seems morally trivial cases do not enter at all into the calculus of the band of permissions – they are irrelevant and do not require further analysis in this manner. If duties and permissions are “interdefinable,” then permissions should be limited to morally significant choices.

As such, a slightly more refined view of permissions undercuts some of the motivation for thinking permissions should be taken as a primitive truth. On the authors’ view, a “reason-based” account seems to ground some cases, like the choice of shoe color, in a convoluted calculus of duties and derived permissions. Yet, understanding that these morally trivial cases do not enter the picture, the “reason-based” accounts seem at least more elegant than what the authors’ see it to be. Nevertheless, this new outlook carries the assumption that there is a different class of morally trivial choices which do not enter the discussion of “ought and permissions,” but this seems relatively uncontentious.

The “band” theory seems to have some issues that the “reason-based” accounts do not. The main issue that is that it creates tensions between moral agents who act permissibly, and such tensions include self-respect and enforced duties. The fundamental issue is that jettisoning the “reason-based” account also took away any objective criterion to compare bands of permission. This might be a reason to reconsider taking permissions as a foundational primitive truth.

Source

Hurka, Thomas and Schubert, Esther. ‘Permissions to Do Less Than the Best: A Moving Band’, Oxford Studies in Normative Ethics 2 (2012): 1-27.

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[1] This is not too convincing to me. Would we have a duty to make sure that all the billionaires in the world donate to charity?

It seems normal to think that we have certain special obligations to those we are close to, and sometimes these obligations might be stronger than our general moral duties. They might lead us to make tough decisions, like Euthyphro deciding to testify against his murderous father. At the least, the law reflects our sympathies towards special obligations; spousal privilege, for instance, prevents spouses from condemning each other in court.  Nevertheless, these special obligations can be burdensome as it sometimes forces us to make such ultimatums between moral duties and relationships. Some (“voluntarists”) have suggested that this burden is unfair if they are not voluntarily taken; after all, this might interfere with our freedom to choose how we live our lives. Some, like Diane Jeske, insist that we in one way or another consent to special obligations. Others, like Samuel Scheffler, are insouciant to this problem; still others, like R. Jay Wallace, also bite the bullet, but are more sympathetic to the tensions and find clever ways around them. This paper argues that there is indeed an issue, and that the attempts at resolving this issue have been unsatisfactory. The most important feature of autonomy is letting us choose our means of achieving a good life; with this in mind, the freedom to cast off the burdens of special obligations is the crux of meeting the autonomy worry. I suggest a reconciliatory approach, focusing on terminating conditions, to resolve the qualms with special (“sui generis”) obligations and the voluntarist’s worry about autonomy.

It is important to distinguish “natural duties” and “special obligations” because some argue that they are different kinds of rules, whereas others want to say special obligations are a mere species of natural duties.[1] Natural duties are broadly understood as moral rules which apply and are owed to everybody. To illustrate, some may argue for the natural duty to report murderers to the police. This natural duty would apply to everyone, so if someone was in a position to report a murderer, they ought to; moreover, such a duty is understood to be owed to everyone; one would owe it to another in virtue of being human that they do not danger others by letting murders run rampant. This is contrasted with special obligations which are owed “to some limited class of persons.” (Jeske, 529) If I make a promise with you to meet you at the café, my obligation to keep my promise and to meet you is not in virtue of you being human; rather, it is in virtue of the promiser-promisee relation, which limits my obligations to the class of persons containing only you. A different sort of special obligation is between relations with intimates: mainly, friends and family. These sorts of special obligations can be more pressing and sometimes ask us to go against natural duties: perhaps Euthyphro has a special obligation to his father that he does not report his father for murder. Familial-based special obligations seem particularly different from promise-based special obligations because we do not voluntarily enter into familial relations as we do with promise relations.[2]

            In comes the voluntarist challenge. The thesis, according to Jeske, is that “the only way that we can acquire special obligations is through some voluntary action (or actions), a voluntary action (or actions) which we know or ought to know signals the assumption of obligations…” (Jeske, 532) Voluntary actions may well be tacit or subtle, but I leave that an open question (it is an in-house debate for voluntarists). What the force of the voluntarist challenge is that there is some consent to accepting conditions. For instance, a promise to meet you at the café comes with the stipulation that you do so if you make the promise. Voluntarists have issues with special obligations, which are not voluntarily accepted. 

            There is a concern from voluntarists about the state of autonomy within the bounds of special obligations. Familial relations are often thought to be a source of special obligations, that is, acting above and beyond what natural duties require; however, familial relations are not voluntarily entered into. These non-voluntary special obligations can get in the bearer’s ways insofar as “space to develop projects and plans and to sustain their personal commitments.” (Jeske, 537) For instance, a child might have a special obligation to take care of their elderly parent, which is an investment of time and resources that the child could direct to themselves; accordingly, it is unfair that the child has this burden without having voluntarily committing themselves to the (special obligation generating) familial relationship. Simmons contributes to this conversation by pointing out that “institutional obligations” (like institutions of family) only have force when they are “freely promised,” (Simmons, 28) so perhaps there is some voluntary aspect of the parent-to-child relation; but those imposed, like the child-to-parent relation, “have no moral force at all.” (Simmons, 28) Voluntarists further challenge special obligations by pointing to how non-voluntary special obligations limit autonomy.

            A strategy to meet the voluntarist challenge is what Jeske calls the “deflationary response” (Jeske, 533). The idea here is that since familial-based special obligations are not explicitly voluntary (i.e. fail the voluntarist challenge), they must not be special obligations but natural duties. Notably, most voluntarists concede to the non-voluntary nature of natural duties. (Simmons, 29-30) Perhaps our obligations to family are not in virtue of familial relations (which would make them special obligations), but families are special cases where we can exercise this general natural duty owed to everyone. Perhaps the proximity or roles within a family give us better opportunities to exercise our natural duty of charity. This is the approach of some reductionists – to “reduce” special obligations to more general natural duties.

Let us now, pulling from Sam Scheffler, outline the basic features of non-reductionism, and what can be said about the voluntarist challenge. We often speak of special obligations (“responsibilities”) by pointing to the relationship rather than some voluntary action, or in Scheffler’s words, “by citing the nature of our relationship to that person” rather than some “specific interaction.” (Scheffler, 189) To have a “special, valued relationship,” that is not “purely instrumental,” means that I “regard the person with whom I have the relationship as capable of making additional claims on me, beyond those that people in general can make.” (Scheffler, 196) They provide “presumptively decisive reasons for actions” (Scheffler, 196). These reasons are more basic (i.e. primitive or intuitive to normative practice) than any reasons arising from interactions. [3] Additional duties may subsequently arise in virtue of interactions (whatever agreed upon normative governing conditions), but they are grounded first and foremost in the relationship. For instance, non-reductive special obligations can be present when first meeting your spouse, but reductive special obligations (e.g. not to have any other partners) may arise from a promise to marry.

Scheffler offers seven conditions under his non-reductionist picture which relationships give us special obligations. These seven conditions are necessary for non-reductionism.[4] First, a relationship must be attributed with some “noninstrumental” value – in other words, an end in itself, which excludes the possibility of valuing a relationship noninstrumentally for some instrumental advantage (i.e. “reflexively instrumental”). (Sheffler, 198) Second, relationships must be “socially salient,” so the mere fact that “you happen to have the same number of letters in your last name as John Travolta” does not count as a relationship in this sense. (Scheffler, 198) Third, valuing relationships “means valuing the relation of each of us to the other.” (Scheffler, 199) Fourth, special obligations may be stronger or weaker depending on how much one values the relationship, and may be correspondingly outweighed by other considerations. (Scheffler, 199) Fifth, “the nonreductionist principle states a sufficient condition for special responsibilities, not a necessary condition,” so there is room for reductionistic special obligations (like promises). (Scheffler, 199) Sixth, it is possible that people have special obligations when they think they do not, and it is also possible that people do not have special obligations when they think they do. (Scheffler, 199) Seventh, reasons to value relationships can skew which relationships are actually valued because reasons for valuing relationships can affect conceptions of special obligations. (Sheffler, 200) These conditions outline the basic features of a non-reductionist picture.

The argument Scheffler offers for this sort of non-reductionism is that human beings value “our relations with each other,” and this valuing of relationships “is to see it as a source of reasons for action of a distinctive kind.” (Scheffler, 200) This argument is based on a sort of teleological premise. It says that a dimension of human psychology is aimed at interpersonal relationships and that this is an essential part of being human. “It seems that whenever people value an interpersonal relationship they are apt to see it as a source of values.” (Scheffler, 190) In brief, our need for relationships affects the way we make choices, and this can be appropriately construed as special obligations.

Scheffler pushes back on the idea that special obligations arise from “discrete interactions” (Scheffler, 190) within relationships, like promises or mutual benefit, which might satisfy the voluntarist challenge. Most voluntarists are not against the idea of special obligations per se but against the idea of non-reductionistic (non-voluntary) special obligations.[5]  Scheffler poses the voluntarist challenge as one as special obligations being “unfair” and “burdensome” for those who did “nothing voluntary to incur them.” (Scheffler, 192) This “requires a version of reductionism with respect to such responsibilities [or special obligations].” (Scheffler, 195) Again, a reductionist view of special obligations may satisfy the voluntarist challenge since they would be reduced to natural duties, but Scheffler is a staunch non-reductionist.[6]

Burdensome non-voluntary special obligations again give rise to the voluntarist’s worry about autonomy. Scheffler frames the problem as one having to do with our “social identities.” (Scheffler, 203) This includes “the extent that we choose our roles and relations, and decide how much significance they shall have in our lives, we shape our own identities.” (Scheffler, 203) The autonomy worry is this: “if our relations to other people can generate responsibilities to those people independently of our choices, then to that extent, the significance of our social relations is not up to us to determine” (Scheffler, 203) The ability to determine our social identities seems like something we do not want to give up. If the burdens of non-voluntary special obligations undercuts our autonomy in this manner, then it may be an unreasonable view to hold.

Scheffler responds by saying that “it is clear that the capacity to determine one’s identity has its limits.” (204) Scheffler bites the bullet and says that it is just a brute fact that we cannot have absolute autonomy. Many factors which are integral in shaping our identities are not our choice. Just imagine being born in a different geographical area, with a different socio-economic status, and a different social milieu – it is not hard to imagine that we would be entirely different people with different ideologies, histories, or whatever constitutes our identities. Moreover, Scheffler responds, natural duties “apply to us whether or not we have agreed to them.” (Scheffler, 202) Voluntarists have been vociferous about special obligations being voluntary else they be reduced to natural duties, yet natural duties are not themselves voluntary either. They seem to take natural duties as a primitive truth, and surely any justification given for natural duties can be paralleled as a justification for special obligations. The reductionist approach simply appeals to the non-voluntary nature of natural duties, but what specifically justifies the non-voluntary nature of natural duties? Why have natural duties as a starting point and put the onus on special obligations? After all, says Scheffler, “No claims at all arise from relations that are degrading or demeaning, or which serve to undermine rather than to enhance human flourishing.” (Scheffler, 205)

R. J. Wallace is equally unconvinced by the reductionist approach (to special obligations) to meet the voluntarist challenge. Indeed, it is possible to reduce special obligations to natural duties of “reliance and trust,” (Wallace, 177) “vulnerability,” (Wallace, 178) or “reciprocity and gratitude,” (Wallace, 178) but this may not be the best explanation. Wallace is convinced by Sheffler’s thought that “we could have complete voluntary control over all important features of our identity and social connections.” (181)[7]

Wallace frames the worry about autonomy as one about “control.” (Wallace, 180) Wallace agrees with Scheffler that “complete voluntary control” might be a fantasy, but we still want “to be able to define for oneself the terms of one’s relationships to those whom one loves.” Wallace is a little more sympathetic to the autonomy worry than Scheffler. “If relationships of love are partly constituted by sui generis requirements, it would appear that there is little scope for the adult participants in them to negotiate the terms of those relationships for themselves.” Wallace calls non-reductionistic obligations “sui generis” obligations; in other words, obligations of an entirely different kind than natural duties. A robust set of sui generis obligations (“requirements”) push a crude set of obligations on our relationships. The issue for Wallace is the autonomy to shape the nuances of the dynamics of our various relationships.

Wallace’s response to the argument from autonomy: “it is partly up to individuals to determine for themselves the exact contours of the obligations they fall under in so far as they participate with each other in relationships of love.” [8] (Wallace, 189) His contention is that having space to shape some of the “contours” of our obligations is sufficient to preserve autonomy. He continues: “Relationships of love have a reflexive aspect, being constituted in part by the conceptions that are shared by the parties to them; this gives those parties scope for autonomous self-determination within the context of relationships that are nevertheless sources of sui generis obligation.”[9] (Wallace, 189) Negotiation must be “a process of mutual accommodation,” (Wallace, 190) so escaping duties on a whim thereby is not possible. Nevertheless, the contouring is supposed to save autonomy.

Jeske has different way of meeting the autonomy worry. She pushes the intimacy criterion which suggests that “continued participation” (Jeske, 540) is a necessary condition for special obligation generating relationships. Such relationships are maintained through a “mutual character,” (Jeske, 541) where the relationship becomes a shared project (e.g. interests, goals, history, reciprocity), and such “genuine intimacy cannot be coerced.” (Jeske, 541) Since it cannot be coerced, and we are always consenting to the relationship, autonomy is preserved. [10]

Let us further clarify how the autonomy worry is being met with a distinction of voluntaristic reductionism and non-voluntaristic reductionism. The voluntaristic reductionist meets the autonomy worry by reducing special obligations to features which arise from voluntary interactions. This approach says that autonomy is preserved because there is always some sort of consent to relations which give rise to special obligations. This is similar to Jeske’s approach.[11] In contrast, there is non-voluntaristic reductionism (what Jeske calls the “deflationary response”) which says that special obligations can be collapsed into more general natural duties. The voluntarist accepts the non-voluntary nature of natural duties, so there is no worry with special obligations if they derive from natural duties.

Wallace approach is to pushes back on non-voluntaristic reductionism. “What theoretical economies are achieved by reducing duties of love to more generic moral obligations, given the standing of love relationships as independent domains of non-derivative normativity?” (Wallace, 188) He is committed to a non-reductive account of sui generis obligations, and he admits that such a view, on the face of it, has a worry with autonomy. Rather than ignoring it (like Scheffler), he deals with this worry by saying that our contouring is enough to settle our worries.

Something about Jeske’s view does not seem to reflect normative practice. Let us take a closer look at her “intimacy” criterion. According to Jeske, the terminating conditions for a relationship should also be based on intimacy. A lack of intimacy excuses us from special obligations. This seems save autonomy, but at the cost of undermining the force of special obligations since intimacy is a mutual practice. If one arbitrarily ceases in maintaining intimacy and flippantly drops a relationship, it might be bad that one drop a relationship that promotes flourishing and satisfies human social need, but it would ultimately be a permitted act (there is no natural or special duty against this). The nature of intimacy seems entirely arbitrary. This is also what makes it attractive – arbitrariness, being the arbiter of our choice, is a feature of autonomy. 

Moreover, Jeske seems unsympathetic to the pull of having relationships. There is some sense in which even harmful relationships satisfy our intrinsic need (as social creatures) for relationships. Her view of relationships seems slightly crude in that relationships are only of value if there is intimacy (i.e. reasons to continue the relationship). For instance, an abusive relationship would have absolutely no value on Jeske’s view. On the other hand, on Scheffler’s view, perhaps it has some value in the mere fact that it is a relationship (this is not to say that this value is not significantly outweighed by the abusive nature of this relationship). It seems like relationships are merely instrumental to promoting mutual flourishing and not itself a non-instrumental end.[12] Jeske’s account preserves autonomy at the cost of ignoring an essential part of human psychology (that we value relationships). This cost makes her view untenable.

Nevertheless, the take away from Jeske’s approach is that the force of the autonomy worry is a matter of consent to duties. Wallace’s suggestion, that shaping the contours of a relationship satisfies autonomy, does not address the main issue of burdensome obligations which were not consented to. I also think Wallace agrees that this is an issue, and that he thinks it wrong to ignore it as Scheffler does. Jeske deals with this bigger issue at the cost of ignoring normative practices (i.e. sui generis obligations); in contrast, Wallace captures these normative practices without addressing the bigger issue, the “real” force of the autonomy worry.

Before looking at a possible way to reconcile these issues, let us take a close look at the worry with autonomy. First, I think there is a challenge with the autonomy of personal projects. Sui generis obligations often get in the way of our own personal projects, but this seems like a less of an issue, and we can bite the bullet like Scheffler. After all, we would have to abandon natural duties too because an amoral outlook is much better for pursuing a projects. Second, I think there is a challenge with the autonomy of being a good moral agent. This might be the bigger concern because it is a part of our normative practice that we value being good moral agents, but if sui generis obligations ask us to go against this, we might feel it is a heavy burden to our autonomy. It might come down to a value theory conflict of the good of relationships and the good of being a good moral agent. A sufficient condition for autonomy is allowing one to choose between the goods necessary for flourishing.

This view of autonomy is fairly intuitive. When pressed to give a list of things one values the most, people will come up with a wide variety of things (e.g. cars, clothes, family, love, etc.). Nevertheless, I think they can be narrowed down to a few fundamental categories of goods. These are non-instrumental goods – for instance, chocolate might be an instrumental good insofar as achieving the non-instrumental good of pleasure. It is an open question what the exhaustive list of non-instrumental goods consists in, but two things that (I think) would appear on everybody’s list are relationships and virtue (i.e. being a good moral agent).[13] Such goods are essential for a good life and promoting Eudaimonia (i.e. flourishing). It is not clear how one ought to order these eudaimonistic goods; still, how one orders these goods affects (ipso facto) how one acts, and these choices culminate to what sort of life one lives. This autonomy to order one’s eudaimonistic goods is what must be protected.

Wallace’s account fails in this respect. Wallace follows Scheffler in saying that special obligations may be outweighed by natural duties, but this impartial calculus leaves no room to exercise autonomy. Let’s go back to the Euthyphro father’s example. Suppose an essential feature of the father-son relationship is that there is a sui generis obligation not to report one another if one commits murder. If natural duties outweigh this sui generis obligation, then he must turn his father in. This impartial calculus leaves no room for Euthyphro’s autonomy. What if he valued the goods of relationships and placed them ordinally higher than the goods of virtue? This seems burdensome and restricts his autonomy.

I nonetheless admit that certain smaller cases can be covered by Wallace’s contouring view. That is, the “weak” special obligations (negotiated governing normative conditions of a relationship) might also serve as terminating conditions when they remain neutral to the “strong” special obligations. For instance, perhaps turning one’s father in to the authorities violates “strong” special obligations, so suppose one does not turn him into the authorities. The father being a murderer may nevertheless violate “weak” special obligations in that there was some agreement made that they’d be morally upstanding characters. By violating the “weak” special obligations, there would be grounds for terminating the relationship. Still, this does not address the burden of going against natural duties to turn murderers into the authority; this, I think, is a significant challenge to autonomy. 

My suggestion is that we take a closer look at terminating conditions. The aim is a picture with sui generis obligations which also manages to give us sufficient autonomy. Perhaps even when the calculus obviously weighs on the side of natural duties (Euthyphro turning his father in), we may permissibly choose to side with sui generis obligations. Our justification would be on the basis placing higher value on the eudaimonistic value of relationships (rather than virtue). After all, our choices should be construed teleologically in terms of eudaimonstic goods. Here, we have the freedom to order our eudaimonstic goods and act accordingly.

On this picture, it was Euthyphro’s choice to turn in his father. I think Scheffler’s approach is right to include non-reductive sui generis obligations; however, I think Wallace is right in his sympathies to the voluntarist’s worry about autonomy, but his approach was not sufficient to save autonomy. Jeske’s approach dealt with the worry in the right kind of way, but at the cost of ignoring an essential part of human psychology – namely, the need for relations. My suggestion of terminating conditions proposes a way of sufficiently preserving autonomy while acknowledging the features of human psychology. It takes a eudaimonistic approach and argues that the core of autonomy is the ability to choose how one lives a good life, which stems from the ability to choose eudaimonistic goods. I further suggest that the conflicts with special obligations and natural duties can be framed within a value theory context; in essence, a conflict between the ordering of the eudaimonstic value of relationships and the value of virtue. By and large, this is one non-reductionistic reply to the voluntarist challenge.

Sources

Diane Jeske, “Families, Friends, and Special Obligations”

Samuel Scheffler, “Relationships and Responsibilities”

A. John Simmons,”External Justifications and Institutional Roles”

R. J. Wallace, “The Duties of Love”

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[1] The distinction between “duties” and “obligations” is a subtle and important one, but it has no significance in this paper and can be used interchangeably.

[2] Friendship relations do not have this problem and meet the voluntarist challenge; according to Jeske, they are voluntary “mutual project” (539)

[3] As outlined by Scheffler’s fifth condition. (Scheffler, 199)

[4] This paper will henceforth use this as the model for non-reductionism.

[5] Generally, special obligations arising from promise relations satisfy the voluntarist challenge.

[6] A second issue (neutral to the voluntarist challenge) to special obligations is that it may “confer unfair advantages on their bearers.” (Scheffler, 192) This goes back to the example of not turning your murderous father in to the authorities, and your father doing the same for you. It also hints at the tension between natural duties and special obligations, especially if natural duties ask us to be impartial.

[7] Wallace further adds that “reductionism promises to liberate the realm of loving relationships from the shackles of normative constraints.” (Wallace, 181) If we have certain natural duties already (like trust, vulnerability, or reciprocity) then adding more duties (non-reductionistic sui generis duties) seem to be excessive. He mentions the “phenomenology of agency within the relationship of love,” (Wallace, 182) suggesting our experience of love is such that our actions “out of a sense of duty or obligation.” (Wallace, 182) This would result in an “excessively ‘moralized’ conception of relationships of love.” (Wallace, 182)

[8] E.g. sexual fidelity between life partners

[9] Sui generis obligations meaning obligations arising from (and which we can appeal to) the “specialness” of certain relationships.

[10] It is important to note that this is a diachronic model for continuing conditions; in other words, intimacy is not “chosen in a single discrete act,” (Jeske, 541) like a promise or contract. As such, special obligations which we did not consent to, like some familial relations, can be terminated on the grounds of intimacy, thus further preserving autonomy.

[11] Although, she does not in principle have to deny sui generis special obligations.

[12] Perhaps there is a way to interpret Jeske’s intimacy view as sui generis, but this approach seems rather ad hoc. Perhaps she would be satisfied with Wallace’s model, but this is an open question

[13] Other things might include knowledge, pleasure, or fulfillment, but the idea is that there is some general category of eudaimonistic goods. This is an expansion of Scheffler’s thought that we all value relationships.