Impartiality is sometimes treated by philosophers as if it wereequivalent tomoral impartiality. Or, at the very least, theformer word is often used, without the qualifying adjective‘moral’, even when it is the particularly moral conceptthat is intended. This is misleading, since impartiality in itsbroadest sense is best understood as a formal notion, while moralimpartiality in particular is a substantive concept – and oneconcerning which there is considerable dispute.

The idea that impartiality is a defining feature of the moral outlookraises obvious questions and difficulties in relation to our ordinarybeliefs and behaviors. Most of us live in ways that exhibitconsiderable partiality toward relatives, friends, and other lovedones, and to others with whom we are affiliated or associated. Theexistence of vast global disparities in the distribution of wealth andaccess to resources may not seem to accord well with thecharacteristically modern view that all people are in some fundamentalsense equal from a moral point of view. Although general and abstractmoral principles requiring impartiality tend to strike many of us asfairly plausible, our more particular views and practices often seemto place considerably less significance on it.

Though we will begin by addressing the broader, formal concept, andend with a brief discussion of issues raised by particularlyepistemic impartiality, this entry will be predominantlyconcerned with moral impartiality; the sort of impartiality, that is,that commonly features in normative moral and political theories.

• 1. The concept of impartiality
• 2. Morality and impartiality
  • 2.1 The impartial point of view
  • 2.2 The ideal observer theory
  • 2.3 Moral impartiality and equality
• 3. Moral impartiality I: Consequentialist moral theories
  • 3.1 The nature of consequentialist impartiality
  • 3.2 Is consequentialist impartiality too demanding?
  • 3.3 Consequentialist impartiality and justice
• 4. Moral impartiality II: Deontological moral theories
  • 4.1 Deontological impartiality and the personal point of view
  • 4.2 Impartiality and universalizability
  • 4.3 Other Deontological Approaches
  • 4.4 Contractualist models of deontological impartiality
• 5. Impartiality: Its demands and scope
  • 5.1 The cognitive challenge of impartiality
  • 5.2 Impartiality, Impersonality, and Indifference
  • 5.3 Impartiality, Objectivity, and Neutrality
• 6. Partiality and Impartiality
  • 6.1 Relationships and the Justification of Partiality
  • 6.2 The Partialist-Impartialist Debate
• 7. Epistemic partiality and impartiality
• Bibliography
• Academic Tools
• Other Internet Resources
• Related Entries

1. The concept of impartiality

It is all too easy to assume that the word impartiality must denote apositive, unitary concept – presumably a concept closely linkedwith, if not identical to, morality. This, however, is simply not thecase. Rather, there are various sorts of behavior that may bedescribed as ‘impartial,’ and some of these obviously havelittle or nothing to do with morality. A person who chooses anaccountant on the basis of her friends’ recommendations may beentirely impartial between the various candidates (members of the poolof local accountants) with respect to their gender, their age, orwhere they went to school. Yet if her choice is motivated solely byrational self-interested considerations then it is clear that theimpartiality she manifests is in no way a form of moral impartiality.To take a more extreme case, consider an insane serial killer whochooses his victims on the basis of their resemblance to that somecelebrity. The killer may be impartial with respect to hisvictims’ occupations, religious beliefs, and so forth, but itwould be absurd to regard this as a form of moral impartiality.

It is also worth noting that some types of impartiality may inthemselves be immoral or morally questionable. Suppose that I decideto pass along a treasured family heirloom to one of my two sons, Billand Phil. Flipping a coin would constitute one type of impartialprocedure for choosing between the two. But suppose that I havealready promised the heirloom to Phil on several occasions. In thiscase it would be quite wrong to allow a coin toss to determine whetherhe gets it. Deciding by means of a coin toss would be an impartialprocedure, but many would claim that it would be the wrong sort ofimpartiality here, for it ignores the moral obligation created by myprevious promises.

The word ‘impartiality’, then, picks out a broad conceptthat need not have anything to do with morality. In this broad sense,impartiality is probably best characterized in a negative rather thanpositive manner: an impartial choice is simply one in which a certainsort of consideration (i.e. some property of the individuals beingchosen between) has no influence. An analysis along these lines hasbeen proposed by Bernard Gert, who holds that “A isimpartial in respectR with regard to groupG if andonly ifA’s actions in respectR are notinfluenced at all by which member(s) ofG benefit or areharmed by these actions” (Gert 1995, 104). Thus, for Gert,impartiality is a property of a set of decisions made by a particularagent, directed toward a particular group.

Gert’s analysis captures the important fact that one cannotsimply ask of a given agent whether or not she is impartial. Rather,we must also specify with regard to whom she is impartial, and in whatrespect. Gert’s analysis, then, permits and indeed requires thatwe make fairly fine-grained distinctions between various sorts ofimpartiality. This is necessary, since one and the same agent mightmanifest various sorts of partiality and impartiality towards variousgroups of persons. Consider, for instance, a university professor whois also a mother of five children, and who is currently acting as amember of a hiring committee. Such an agent might be impartial betweenher children with respect to the care they receive (while preferringher own children over others in this respect), and also impartialbetween the various job candidates; but it is clear that these twouses of the word ‘impartial’ denote very differentpractices. In particular, the idea of merit applies in one case butnot the other: to be impartial between job candidates is presumably toselect between them on the basis of merit, whereas to be impartialbetween one’s children isnot to think of merit at all,but rather to provide equal protection and care to all.

Many attempts to characterize impartiality fail to respect thedistinction between the broadest, most formalistic sense of thenotion, and a more specifically moral impartiality. To say, forinstance, that an impartial choice is one that is free of bias orprejudice is to presuppose that we are dealing with a certain sort ofimpartiality, that which is required or recommended by morality, or atleast worthy of moral approbation. ‘Bias’ and‘prejudice’ are loaded terms, suggesting not only thatsome consideration is being excluded, but also that the exclusion isappropriate and warranted. Similarly, the idea that impartialityrequires that we give equal and/or adequate consideration to theinterests of all concerned parties goes well beyond the requirementsof the merely formal notion. (In the coin toss case, it is quite clearthat Phil’s claims to the heirloom are not being given equal oradequate consideration.) As a characterization of moral impartiality,however, this suggestion is perhaps more promising, at least in somecontexts.

2. Morality and impartiality

2.1 The impartial point of view

It is characteristic of modern moral thought to see impartiality as arequirement of, if not a fundamental component of, morality. However,while nearly every moral theory requires some forms of impartiality inat least some contexts, and forbids some forms of partiality in atleast some contexts, there is little general agreement beyond that.One straightforward thought is that to act morally is simply to actfrom the standpoint of impartial benevolence. Many writers have simplyassumed that to assert the importance of impartiality in the contextof morality just is to accept the idea of acting from such aperspective. It is generally agreed that some sort of close connectionobtains between morality and impartiality. Indeed, the phrases‘moral point of view’ and ‘impartial (or‘impersonal’) point of view’ are sometimes usedinterchangeably to refer to the imagined impersonal perspective fromwhich, it is supposed, moral judgments are to be made (Baier 1958,chapter 8; Harsanyi 1982; Scheffler 1982, 1985; Smith 1976 [1759];Wolf 1992; see also Blum 1980, Chapter 3). As noted above, however,the word ‘impartial’ is a general term with manyparticular species; it follows that the phrase ‘impartial pointof view’ is itself ambiguous. At most, it might be that themoral point of view constitutes one sort of impartial point ofview.

It is not clear, however, that the demands of impartial benevolenceare sufficient to exhaust those of morality. Treating a personappropriately and respectfully may well require certain sorts ofemotional and/or cognitive responses: sensitivity to her needs andvalues, empathy for her suffering, and the like. But if theseresponses are pictured as the results ofpositive traits orattributes (and not simply as, say, the result of a lack of bias orprejudice), then it is not clear that merely being impartial betweenpersons is sufficient to guarantee that one will possess and displaythe necessary sensitivities. Indeed, characterizations of impartialagents which proceed in negative terms (that is, by defining variouspreferences, emotions or bits of information that she does not possessor that do not move her) often risk picturing the impartial agent asimpersonal and even indifferent (Henberg 1978; Brandt 1954).

A second problem for the claim that the moral point of view isidentical with (some version of) the impartial point of view –or indeed, for any view which identifies morality and impartiality inthe direct sense – is that it seems plausible to regard someforms of moral partiality as morally admirable, and perhaps evenmorally required (Blum 1980; Cottingham 1983, 1986, 1996; Jeske &Fumerton 1997; Jollimore 2001; Kapur 1991; Kekes 1981; Keller 2013;MacIntyre 1984; Oldenquist 1982). Loyalty to one’s family,community or country, for instance, is commonly regarded as a virtue.Yet such an attitude is a clear and indeed paradigmatic example ofpartiality, requiring that an agent feel and act differently towardone set of persons than she does toward humanity in general.Similarly, certain specific moral duties arising from certainparticular relationships seem to involve partiality in an irreduciblemanner. Parents, for example, are thought to be morally obliged totake special care of their own children; to regard one’s childas merely one among millions would be regarded as highly eccentric ifnot monstrous. Of course, some moral duties do require that an agentbe impartial in performing them. But on common sense moral views atleast, impartiality seems mostly to be required in the context ofspecific roles – such as when a person is acting as a judge, anumpire, a journalist, or a representative of some public institution;or, perhaps, when we are evaluating and selecting first-order moralrules. (Baron 1991; Blum 1980; Cottingham 1983). The idea thatimpartiality is a pervasive and universal moral requirement thatshould be directly manifested in our thoughts and practices duringdaily life seems to contradict our ordinary moral intuitions.

One can, though, grant impartiality a significant, even central andfoundational, role while allowing that our actions and motives mayoften be partial in nature. As Brad Hooker has pointed out, there areat least three levels at which assessments of moral impartiality maybe made. First, one may ask whether moral rules are being impartiallyapplied. Second, impartial benevolence may be used as a direct guideto practical decisions. And third, the content of first-order moralrules may be assessed from an impartial standpoint (Hooker 2010) Morerecently he has suggested that for the purposes of moral and politicalphilosophy, it may be less useful to focus, as Gert’s analysisdoes, on the notion of impartial treatment, than on“impartiality in the application of rules” and“impartiality in justification of behavior.” After all, hewrites, “impartial treatment, according to [Gert’s]account of it, not only is not always a moral requirement but also issometimes morally forbidden” (Hooker 2013, 722). According toHooker’s account of impartial application of rules, “Whena rule is applied across a set of cases, the rule is not appliedimpartially if and only if both (a) the agent is at least sometimesguided by partiality and (b) this conflicts with being guided by thedistinctions identified by the rule as pivotal” (2013, 721). Theanalysis is intended to allow that some rules might (legitimately)require partiality—for instance, a rule requiring parents totake care of their own children. Such a rule could nonetheless bepartially or impartially applied, and agents might be blameworthy forfailing to apply them impartially even when they are not blameworthyfor engaging in the various forms of partiality that are required bythe rule.

Hooker himself, then, adheres to the view that an adequate moraltheory “puts forward an impartial foundational principle forassessing possible moral rules, and this impartial foundationalprinciple selects rules that allow considerable scope forpartiality,” seeing both contractualism and ruleconsequentialism as examples of theories of this sort. (See (Hooker,2000) for his development of a particular rule consequentialist view.)Such a theory would admit various forms of morally admirable and evenmorally required partiality, while holding that the rules permittingsuch partiality are countenanced by, and perhaps even reducible to,impartial moral principles.

Whether irreducible morally admirable partiality exists is frequentlyseen as the main issue separating the so-calledpartialistsfrom theimpartialists. Partialists, in general, tend toclaim that morally admirable partiality does exist, that it cannot bereduced to any form of impartiality at a more fundamental level, andthat these facts pose a serious problem for those who claim thatmorality and (some form of) impartiality are identical, or evenclosely related. Impartialists, by contrast, either deny the existenceof morally admirable partiality altogether, or hold that any apparentcases are in fact ultimately reducible to impartial standards (seesection 6). Thus impartialists hold that – contrary, perhaps, toappearances – impartiality is, indeed, a pervasive and universalrequirement of morality.

2.2 The ideal observer theory

Rather than being put in terms of an impartial point of view, therelation between morality and impartiality is sometimes made out interms of an impartial agent or observer – a person who makesmoral judgments without being influenced by the sort of contaminatingbiases or prejudices that tend to arise from the occupation of someparticular point of view. (Smith 1976 [1759]; Hume 1978 [1740]; Firth1952; Brandt 1954; Hare 1989.) The observer may also be defined as‘ideal’ in various other ways. It is generally stipulatedthat she is in possession of all the nonmoral facts that are relevantto the judgments she has to make (Firth 1952). It is also fairlycommon to assume that she is an ideal reasoner, and thus immune tological fallacy or mistaken inference, etc. (Indeed, Hare goes so faras to state that his ‘archangel’ possesses“superhuman powers of thought, superhuman knowledge and no humanweaknesses” (Hare 1989, 44).) The ‘ideal observertheory’ of morality, in its most straightforward form, statesthat moral judgments simply are the judgments an ideal observer ofthis sort will make.

Any advantage it has over the conception of morality as an impartialpoint of view presumably arises from the fact that the ideal observeris not completely defined in terms of impartiality. (If she were, thetwo conceptions would simply coincide.) Yet many ideal observertheorists seem to accept a characterization of the ideal observerwhich concentrates on her impartiality and impersonality. Firth, forexample, suggests that the ideal observer is both‘disinterested,’ in the strong sense of being‘entirely lacking in particular interests,’ and‘dispassionate,’ in that she is ‘incapable ofexperiencing any emotions at all.’ (Firth, 1952) Defined in thisway, however, the ideal observer sounds not only impersonal but deeplyindifferent; and the idea that the moral judgments of a person who hadneither emotional responses nor particular interests could be trusted,let alone that they might be considered definitive of morality,strikes some critics as highly implausible (Brandt 1979).

Suppose, then, that the ideal observer theorist decides that thedefinition of the ideal observermust include more than thebare idea of impartiality – that in addition the observer mustbe, say, compassionate (and thus not indifferent); and that she mustpossess a considerable facility for proper moral judgments –practical wisdom, in the Aristotelian sense. Such a theorist will nowface a different problem: the more we build into the definition of ourideal observer, the less useful it becomes as a heuristic device.Stipulating that the ideal observer is very wise, for example, is notvery helpful if we ourselves are not wise, and so have no idea what anideally wise observer would choose. Indeed, ideal observer analysesthat go too far in this direction seem to become circular – the‘ideal’ observer is ideal because she always makes properjudgments, those being defined as just those judgments the idealobserver would make (Broad 1959, 263). A circularity of this sortseems to be present in John Stuart Mill’s claim:

Impartiality, in short, as an obligation of justice, may be said tomean, being exclusively influenced by the considerations which it issupposed ought to influence the particular case in hand; and resistingthe solicitation of any motives which prompt to conduct different fromwhat those considerations would dictate. (Mill 1861/1992, 154; seealso Firth 1952, 336)

The ideal observer, then, to be useful, must be given some independentdefinition, and not simply defined as ‘an agent who always getsit right.’ The challenge is to find such a definition. Here, aswith the conception of morality as defined by an impartial point ofview, the phenomenon of morally admirable partiality proves aparticularly difficult issue. Should we define the ideal observer asbeing loyal to her country, or as being above loyalty? If the former,can she serve as an adequate moral example to people who do not shareher allegiances? If the latter, how can she serve as an adequateexample to anyone? Any process of idealization of the sort required tomake such a conception work seems likely to result in an individual soremoved from the concrete lives and concerns of actual human moralagents, that her moral judgments will turn out to be in large partirrelevant to the question of how such agents ought to live (seeWalker 1991).

2.3 Moral impartiality and equality

The plausibility of identifying the moral point of view with theimpartial point of view, or of defining morality in terms of animpartial observer, presumably lies in the thought that such viewscapture the idea that morally speaking, every person is equallyimportant. Whatever such conceptions may get wrong, then, one thingthey seem to get right is the idea that there is a close and importantconnection between moral impartiality and equality (see especiallyNagel 1991, Chapter 7).

Some clarification, however, is required. To say that from theimpartial point of view, no one is seen as intrinsically moresignificant than anyone else, is not to say that there is no reasonwhatsoever for which a person might demand more moral attention orbetter treatment than others. Many moral theorists, after all, willsuppose that from the impartial point of view, properly conceived,some individuals will count as more significant, at least in certainways. William Godwin (Godwin 1793) provides an influential andinfamous example. Fenelon, the archbishop of Cambrai, Godwin writes,may be supposed to be more significant than a mere chambermaid; so inan emergency (Godwin imagines a building on fire) the archbishop oughtto be rescued first. The reason, however, is not that the archbishopis intrinsically more significant; rather, the claim is grounded onthe fact that the archbishop makes greater contributions tosociety:

[T]hat life ought to be preferred which will be most conducive to thegeneral good. In saving the life of Fenelon, suppose at the momentwhen he was conceiving the project of his immortalTelemachus, I should be promoting the benefit of thousandswho have been cured by the perusal of it of some error, vice andconsequent unhappiness. Nay, my benefit would extend further thanthis, for every individual thus cured has become a better member ofsociety and has contributed in his turn to the happiness, theinformation and improvement of mankind. (Godwin 1793, 41–42)

In Godwin’s consequentialist view, impartiality requires that weconsider all people who will be affected by our decision, not justthose who are directly affected. Thus, taking into account theinterests of those whom Fenelon’s writings stand to benefit, itis clear that the right thing to do is to save him from death. Oneclear implication of the example is that viewing persons from animpartial point of view need not imply that we view them equally, inevery sense of the word; and it certainly does not imply that everyonemust receiveequal treatment. In Godwin’s ArchbishopFenelon case, if we assume that only one person can be saved, the onlyway to give the archbishop and the chambermaid equal treatment wouldbe to let them both perish in the flames.

What impartiality requires, many would argue, is not that everyonereceive equal treatment, but rather that every person betreatedas an equal (Dworkin 1977, 227). While the distinction betweenequal treatment and treatment as equals is difficult to make out withprecision, the main idea is fairly clear: treatment as equals requiresthat persons arenot treated equally, but rather treated inaccordance with what rights they possess, what legitimate claims theyput forward, and, in general, with what they deserve. (RecallHooker’s related distinction between impartial treatment andimpartial application of partiality-permitting rules). Thus, toinflict a one year jail sentence on all accused persons, regardless ofwhether they are guilty or innocent, is to provide equal treatment tomembers of that group; but it is not to treat them as equals. Asmentioned, however, the concept of being treated as an equal is asomewhat elusive one, and there is certainly room to wonder whetherthe chambermaid, in being sacrificed for in the interests of those whostand to benefit from Fenelon’s survival, truly is being treatedas an equal. (Someone with Kantian intuitions, at any rate, isunlikely to think so.)

The most famous and controversial element of Godwin’s example,of course, is yet to come. Let’s suppose that the chambermaid isnot justany chambermaid, but has some relationship to theagent who must choose whom to save:

Supposing the chambermaid had been my wife, my mother or mybenefactor. That would not alter the truth of the proposition. Thelife of Fenelon would still be more valuable than that of thechambermaid; and justice – pure, unadulterated justice –would still have preferred that which was most valuable. Justice wouldhave taught me to save the life of Fenelon at the expense of theother. What magic is there, in the pronoun ‘my’ tooverturn the decisions of everlasting truth? My wife or my mother maybe a fool or a prostitute, malicious, lying or dishonest. If they be,what consequence is it that they are mine? (Godwin 1793, 41–42)

Of course, since his thought experiment concerns an unusual emergencycase, it might be suggested that, since we are not frequently facedwith the choice of who to pull from a burning building, Godwin’sposition, as radical as it is, has few implications for everyday moraldecision-making. But as Singer (1972) has argued, those of us who livein economically privileged countries can, by choosing to donate someof our incomes to charity, prevent people elsewhere on the planet fromdying of hunger, easily preventable diseases, etc.; and this seems toimply that we are always in the situation of choosing who lives andwho dies – whether or not we explicitly acknowledge the fact.(See also Unger 1996 and Singer 2009. Singer’s work has givenrise to the movement popularly known as ‘effectivealtruism,’ composed of people who attempt to dedicate theirlives to doing as much practical good as possible. One popularstrategy is to donate as much as possible to those charitableorganizations judged to be most effective. Such views, likeGodwin’s, adhere to the view that we owe as much moral attentionand effort to those who are distant and unrelated to us as to ourneighbors, close friends, and even family.

Many have resisted the extreme position defended by Godwin, Singer,etc. If nothing else, such positions are quite clearly incompatiblewith the apparent existence of morally admirable partiality. (Williams(1981) holds that even to consider sacrificing one’s wife forthe sake of impersonal justice constitutes a kind of moral error inits own right.) Moreover, despite the fact that the ultimateevaluation is made on the grounds of perfectly general properties, itis not entirely clear that the objects of the evaluation really arebeing treated as equals, in the relevant sense – the fact thatthe chambermaid’s life is to be sacrificed for the overall goodat least suggests that her standing as a moral being is not reallybeing taken into account, and that the suggested understanding ofmoral impartiality is therefore deficient. Deontological prohibitionson using people as mere means to an end may be seen as expressing acommitment to a kind of impartiality in which everyone is seen to beequally in possession of a kind of worth that grounds inviolablerights against certain forms of treatment. Such prohibitions arecompatible with what Kant referred to asimperfect duties toprovide benefits to others, though they place limits on what may bedone while fulfilling those duties.

One need not deny the very possibility of an agent-neutral ranking ofstates of affairs in terms of value, in order to recognize theexistence of deontological prohibitions of this sort. One need onlyhold that such an impersonal ranking does not in itself determine ourmoral obligations. Philosophers such as John Taurek have taken thefurther step and argued that the various goods of individual personscannot be added up to a total ‘overall’ good in anymeaningful sense, and that the traditional consequentialist conceptionof right action as maximizing the overall good is therefore incoherent(Taurek 1977). Indeed, Taurek claims, such decision-making actuallyfail to show equal respect for all persons concerned. (Taurek’sdenial that one can aggregate various individual goods can be regardedas a strong version of the Rawlsian claim that morality must respect a‘distinction between persons.’) Suppose a lifeguard mustchoose between saving one drowning person or saving five; whomever shechooses not to save will drown, and she cannot save both groups. Mostconsequentialists (and many others) would take it as obvious that, atleast in the absence of very special circumstances (the solitarydrowner’s being the potential author of Telemachus, forinstance) the five should be saved rather than the one. But to assumethis, Taurek argues, would be to fail to show the one the same respectone shows the five: after all, this response leaves the single victimno chance at all of being rescued. Taurek’s controversialsuggestion is that the lifeguard would show equal respect by flippinga coin, as this would offer every person involved an equal chance(fifty percent) of being rescued. Not surprisingly, Taurek’sargument has engendered a substantial amount of discussion andcriticism (see for instance Kamm 1993 Chapters 5 & 6, Kavka 1979,Otsuka 2000, Parfit 1978.)

3. Moral impartiality I: Consequentialist moral theories

3.1 The nature of consequentialist impartiality

Consequentialist moral theories hold that moral evaluations andjustifications must ultimately be grounded in the value of theconsequences of the actions, rules, policies, strategies, charactertraits, etc. that are being evaluated (Hooker 1994). That is, theultimate question to be asked of any action, rule, or character traitunder evaluation is, “Does it [the action, rule, or trait inquestion] promote the good?” For the purposes of this entry,three important assumptions will be made regarding consequentialisttheories. First, consequentialist theories will be assumed to holdthat the overall values of sets of consequences can be determined, andthus ranked, independently of the identity of any particular agent.Second, such theories will be assumed to hold that the impersonal goodis largely if not entirely composed of the interests of individualpersons, and that the interests of each person count for just as muchas those of every other person. Finally, it will be assumed that weare dealing with act consequentialist theories – theories, thatis, which hold that the consequentialist standard is to be applieddirectly to the actions of agents, and that what is required is thatevery action (or overall pattern of action) maximize the impersonalgood. Such a theory, then, requires that every agent always choose anaction that will bring about consequences at least as good as thosethat would be brought about by any other available action.

In so characterizing consequentialism I am defining it as applyingdirectly to the evaluation of an agent’s actions. (It should bepointed out that this still leaves it open whether or not an agentshould bemotivated by explicit thoughts aboutconsequentialist requirements. It might be that an agent will performbetter in terms of consequentialist standards if she is most oftenmoved by other sorts of considerations—a point that is importantto the sort of ‘sophisticated’ consequentialism advancedby Peter Railton, Frank Jackson, and others, and briefly discussedbelow.) One might instead adhere to a theory according to whichfirst-order moral rules should be chosen in accordance with theirtendency to promote the overall good, impartially (and impersonally)conceived. Such theories typically go by the name ‘ruleconsequentialism’, though there has been some debate as towhether they constitute genuinely consequentialist theories at all(Howard-Snyder 1993). For the purposes of understanding impartiality,at any rate, it is most useful to group rule consequentialist theoriesnot with act consequentialist theories but with deontologicaltheories, which are more similar in terms of their underlyingnormative structure.

As we are understanding it, then, consequentialism seems to place eachagent under a pervasive obligation to be strictly impartial betweenall persons, by requiring her always to exclude from her practicaldeliberations (almost) all considerations that do not bear directly onthe ways in which people’s interests might be advanced orinjured by her actions.

The consequentialist standard, then, is strictly impartial in a verydirect manner and in a very rigorous sense. A consequentialist agentis not permitted to prefer herself, nor any of her loved ones, inchoosing a distribution of benefits and burdens. She may not accept apleasure for herself if doing so involves passing up the opportunityto bring about a slightly larger pleasure for a stranger. Nor is shepermitted to feed her own children if she could do more good byfeeding hungrier strangers instead. She must sacrifice the life of aspouse, parent or child if, by doing so, she would save more lives, oreven (as in Godwin’s Archbishop Fenelon case) save the life ofone other person whose contribution to the overall good would begreater than that of the person sacrificed. It is for reasons such asthis that consequentialist impartiality is accused of being toodemanding. By refusing to allow the agent’s personal concerns toplay a special role in her practical deliberations, it is claimed,consequentialism threatens her integrity and alienates her fromherself and others (Kapur 1991, Scheffler 1982, Stocker 1976, Williams1973, 1981). As Brian Barry has written, the effect ofconsequentialist impartiality “is, in effect, to extend to thewhole of conduct the requirements of impartiality that on thecommon-sense view are restricted to judges and bureaucrats acting intheir official capacities” (Barry 1995, 23).

3.2 Is consequentialist impartiality too demanding?

The fact that consequentialist impartiality turns out to have suchstrict and demanding implications is, for the consequentialist, adouble-edged sword. On the plausible and popular assumption that amoral theory must be deeply impartial, consequentialism meets thiscriterion with flying colors. And consequentialists have typicallybeen adept at exploiting this fact with powerful rhetoric(Godwin’s famous query, ‘what magic is there in thepronoun ‘my’?’ being a noteworthy example.) On theother hand, the impartial demands of consequentialism are so strictand so extreme that many critics have found them unacceptable:consequentialism, they claim, simply demands too much and musttherefore be rejected (Scheffler 1982, Slote 1985, Williams 1981).

One form of this worry is a version of what we referred to above asthe problem of morally admirable partiality. The common-sense view isthat it is permissible for an agent to be partial toward herself; thatis, to treat her own projects and concerns as if they had specialsignificance (Scheffler 1982). (From her point of view, of course,they do have special significance.) This sort of self-concern, then,constitutes a form of partiality which seems, from the vantage pointof common sense, to be morally endorsed. Similarly, certain sorts ofpartiality directed toward other people – friends, familymembers, and the like – are also forbidden by consequentialistimpartiality, but regarded as justifiable, and in many casesadmirable, from the standpoint of common sense (Blum 1980, Cottingham1983, Kekes 1981, Keller 2013, Slote 1985). A related concern focusesnot on moralityper se but on the needs and conditions ofagenthood and personal flourishing. James Griffin, for example, writesthat “Many prudential values involve commitments—toparticular persons, institutions, causes, and careers. One cannot livea prudentially good life, one cannot fully flourish, without becomingin large measure partial. That partiality then becomes part of one; itis not something one can psychologically enter into and exit from atwill” (Griffin 1996, 85). Bernard Williams argues that, inprohibiting an agent from seeing their own persona projects andcommitments as no more significant than those of any other agent,consequentialist theories violate the integrity of agents andundermine any reason they might have for being moral (Williams 1973,1981; cf. Hurley 2009). (It should be noted that Williams sees Kantiandeontological theories as to some degree vulnerable to theseobjections as well.)

There are a number of possible responses to this objection. First, aconsequentialist might argue thatany genuinely impartialmoral theory will make extreme demands of agents—at least, if weunderstand the concept of impartiality correctly. This strategy facesa serious difficulty: namely, it at least seems to be the case thatcertain non-consequentialist moral theories – in particular,deontological theories – also incorporate impartial elements ina fundamental manner, and yet make demands on the moral agent whichare considerably less extreme than those of consequentialism. Thus,while some consequentialists (e.g. Brink 1989) have argued that thetruth of consequentialism can be logically derived more or lessdirectly from the requirement that morality be impartial, this seemsto be a mistake (Scheffler 1992, 105–109). Of course, it is opento the consequentialist either to deny that deontological moraltheories are genuinely impartial (Kagan 1989; Scheffler 1982, 1985),or to argue that, properly understood, any plausible ethical theorywill be seen to make demands comparable to those made byconsequentialism (Brink 1989, Ashford 2000). Both of these strategies,however, face difficulties; as we will see in section 4, there is infact a very strong case in favor of viewing at least somedeontological theories as genuinely and fundamentally impartial– a case which nevertheless does not prohibit us from viewingsuch theories as less demanding than their consequentialistrivals.

A consequentialist adopting this strategy also presumably needs toshow that human agents arecapable of living up to the kindsof demands placed on us by consequentialism (or else to argue that itdoes not matter whether or not we are capable). As James Griffinwrites, our “natural perhaps genetic partiality limits our will.Some acts fall just outside the motivational range of a normal humanbeing. Sinceought impliescan, what lies outsidenatural human motivation does not even enter contention for being amoral requirement. Norms are not fashioned in a vacuum; they are cutto fit agents like us” (Griffin 1990, 129). While Kagan (1989)argues on behalf of consequentialists that available empiricalevidence supports the view that humans, given sufficient informationand vivid representations, can be brought to overcome their inherenttendencies to be partial, Griffin regards the evidence asinsufficient, concluding that “complete impartiality is beyondhuman capacity” (Griffin 1996, 92).

A second possible consequentialist response is to argue that those whoobject to consequentialism on the grounds that it is too demanding areplacing too much importance on the role of morality in practicalreasoning (Brink 1989; Wolf 1982, 1992). If moral considerationsdominated practical reasoning – if, that is, they were the onlyor at any rate by far the most significant considerations indetermining our actions – then consequentialism would beuntenable, on account of its demanding too much. But when put in theirproper place then in the larger scheme of practical reasons andrequirements, the extreme demands of consequentialist morality will nolonger seem threatening. To borrow a pair of phrases from David Brink,what appear to be ‘moral worries’ about the tendency ofconsequentialism to make excessive moral demands, might really be‘worries about morality’ – worries, that is, aboutwhether or not we have reason to act as morality requires. Whether theview of morality presupposed by this strategy is true, however, isquestionable; at the very least, it does not seem to be the case thatthe majority of those who have defended consequentialism as anormative theory of ethics have intended it to be viewed as a theorythat could be frequently or easily overridden or ignored (see Railton1984, Miller 1992 Chapter 10, Jollimore 2001 Chapter 3). One possibleexception is Alastair Norcross (2006a, 2006b), who has proposed amodification of utilitarianism he calls “scalarutilitarianism,” which ranks possible actions in terms of moralrightness but makes no claim as to which acts are morally required.Since scalar utilitarianism sees rightness as a matter of degreerather than as a binary property, and refrains from identifying anyaction as required, he claims that it avoids the demandingnessobjection and related objections.

A third strategy is perhaps the best known and most frequentlyemployed. It is argued that, given a reasonable and accurate view ofhuman nature and the abilities of agents, it will be seen that whatconsequentialism requires isnot a radically different sortof life from the one most of us currently live; rather,consequentialism will require (in most cases, at least) onlyreasonable, and relatively minor, adjustments in our currentlifestyles. In particular, it is argued that consequentialism permitsthe agent both to give preference to her own projects and concerns,and to favor particular other individuals (friends, family members,etc.), and that all this is consistent with the agent’s havingas her overriding project the maximizing of the good. Thelocusclassicus of this argument is found in Mill’sUtilitarianism:

The objectors to utilitarianism cannot always be charged withrepresenting it in a discreditable light. On the contrary, those amongthem who entertain anything like a just idea of its disinterestedcharacter, sometimes find fault with its standard as being too highfor humanity. They say it is exacting too much to require that peopleshall always act from the inducement of promoting the generalinterests of society. But this is to mistake the very meaning of astandard of morals, and to confound the rule of action with the motiveof it […] The great majority of good actions are intended, notfor the benefit of the world, but for that of individuals, of whichthe good of the world is made up; and the thoughts of the mostvirtuous man need not on these occasions travel beyond the particularpersons concerned, except so far as is necessary to assure himselfthat in benefiting them he is not violating the rights – thatis, the legitimate and authorized expectations – of any oneelse. The multiplication of happiness is, according to the utilitarianethics, the object of virtue: the occasions on which any person(except one in a thousand) has it in his power to do this on anextended scale, in other words, to be a public benefactor, are butexceptional; and on these occasions alone is he called on to considerpublic utility; in every other case, private utility, the interest orhappiness of some few persons, is all he has to attend to. (Mill 1992[1861], 64–66)

Even Godwin (1801 [1968]) endorses a version of this argument, writingthat

True wisdom will recommend to us individual attachments […]since it is the object of virtue to produce happiness; and since theman who lives in the midst of domestic relations will have manyopportunities of conferring pleasure, minute in the detail, yet nottrivial in the amount. (Quoted in Cannold,et al., 1995)

(This position, it will be noted, appears to be in some amount oftension with the more extreme consequentialist position attributed toGodwin in section 2.3).

More recent versions of this argument follow Mill’s basicstrategy. Peter Railton (1984) argues that a‘sophisticated’ consequentialist will develop patterns ofdecision-making that do not, except on rare occasions, referexplicitly to consequentialist aims and goals, and that both thepsychology and the outward behavior of such an individual will besimilar to that of the typical non-consequentialist. Similarly, FrankJackson (1991) argues that the most efficient strategy for a dedicatedconsequentialist is to concentrate on small groups of particularpersons, rather than trying to promote the well-being of humanity atlarge, and that this will involve the formation of close personalrelationships with other individuals. Others who have deployedversions of this argument include Bales (1971), Brink (1989), andPettit & Brennan (1986).

The evaluation of this consequentialist strategy is a difficult issue.Consequentialists are surely correct to point out that obsessiveconsequentialist strategizing is likely, at a certain point, to turncounter-productive, and that a consequentialist agent is thereforewell-advised to develop more moderate approaches. On the other hand,Mill and many other consequentialists seem to underestimate the amountof good that a dedicated consequentialist agent might be able tocontribute, and thus, to underestimate the amount of good that shewill be required to contribute. Moreover, our powers to influence thelives of strangers have increased considerably since Mill’s day.As Susan Wolf writes, “[T]his argument is simply unconvincing inlight of the empirical circumstances of our world. The gain inhappiness that would accrue to oneself and one’s neighbors by amore well-rounded, richer life than that of the moral saint would bepathetically small in comparison to the amount by which one couldincrease the general happiness if one devoted oneself explicitly tothe care of the sick, the downtrodden, the starving, and thehomeless” (Wolf 1982, 428; see also Singer 1972). This thoughtis borne out by the empirical facts. If we look at the lives of actual‘effective altruists,’ who are motivated by a commitmentto make as great a contribution to general well-being as possible, wefind that such people have indeed found it necessary to transformtheir lives in fairly radical ways and to make large sacrifices interms of time, money, and comfort, and often in terms of relationshipsand personal happiness (see examples in MacFarquhar 2015).

Moreover, even if a theory such as Railton’s sophisticatedconsequentialism can allow a sophisticated consequentialist agent tosometimes knowingly bring about less than maximally good consequences,such a theory must nonetheless insist that each particular act ofdoing so is indeed morally wrong – an insistence which seemscontrary to our moral intuitions (Jollimore 2001). It is not clear,then, that an appeal to the limits of human powers can succeed inconverting what is a fundamentally radical moral theory into acomfortably conservative one.

3.3 Consequentialist impartiality and justice

In addition to claiming that consequentialist impartiality is toodemanding, many critics have also argued that it is too permissive.Since consequentialism makes the permissibility of an action entirelydependent on the value of that action’s consequences, it followsthat there is notype of action that can be prohibited onconsequentialist grounds (except, of course, for that‘type’ which is defined explicitly in terms of sub-optimalconsequences.) Thus instances of torture, premeditated murder, rape,and other violations of fundamental human rights are at leastpotentially justifiable on a consequentialist basis; no such actioncan be ruled out, morally speaking, until the comparative value of thestate of affairs it will bring about has been determined.

The effect of this complaint, like the previous one, is not to denythe claim that consequentialism is a deeply impartial moral theory,but rather to suggest that it incorporates the wrong sort ofimpartiality. Suppose, to take an example common in the literature,that consequentialism recommends that a person be convicted of, andpunished for, a crime they did not commit, in order to prevent thepublic from rioting (Nielsen 1972). Such an action would, according tocommon intuitions, constitute a gross violation of justice; and itseems a weak reply to point out that the recommendation was arrived atthrough an impartial calculation – a calculation that took theinterests of every individual (including the framed man) into equalaccount. For while the claim is, strictly speaking, true, there isnevertheless a clear and compelling case in favor of concluding thatthe framed person wasnot treated impartially, in the sensethat ought to matter here. We expect a judicial system to allocatepunishments in accordance with degree of guilt, not in accordance withthe expected value to society of the consequences in each case; andthe fact that both methods constitute forms of impartialdecision-making does not imply that they are equally morallyacceptable.

Again, there are many ways the consequentialist might respond. As withthe demandingness objection, perhaps the most common response is toargue that something resembling ordinary rules and practices can bejustified on the basis of consequentialist considerations. The classicversion of this response dates back to Mill’s Utilitarianism(1992 [1861]). If institutions of justice are to be given a generaljustification, Mill argues, this justification must find its ultimategrounding in utility to society; for what else could explain whyjustice is valued at all, other than the fact that it serves andprotects our interests? But since a justice system will only succeedin this role if it is governed by common principles of justice –principles including, for instance, that only the guilty should bepunished, and that the punishment ought to be proportional to thecrime – it follows that such principles are not opposed toconsequentialism at all. Rather, at the deepest justificatory level,consequentialism and the demands of justice coincide. (See alsoNeilsen 1972)

The claim that such a coincidence generally obtains is probably easyto establish. The challenge for Mill, and for other consequentialists,arises in those particular cases in which the coincidence fails.Assuming that the possibility of such cases does not move one tosimply abandon consequentialism in favor of some more justice-friendlyconception (such as the rule consequentialism Mill himself sometimesseems to find attractive), there are two general defense strategiesfor consequentialists to employ. The first strategy argues that thereare good consequentialist reasons for being the sort of agent whorespects the dictates of justice even in cases in which thecoincidence between the demands of justice and those ofconsequentialism fails (Pettit 1997; cf. Railton 1986). The secondstrategy admits that there are cases in which unjust actions can begiven a consequentialist justification, but holds that when so much asit stake, justice must give way to consequentialism’s demands(Smart 1973; Kagan 1989; Pettit 1997). Whether either approach issufficient, given the apparent depth and force of our commonintuitions about the requirements of justice, is a matter of ongoingdebate.

4. Moral impartiality II: Deontological moral theories

4.1 Deontological impartiality and the personal point of view

In section 3.2 we noted that while consequentialist impartiality isone possible interpretation of the demand that morality be impartial,it is not by any means the only available interpretation; nor is itclearly the most plausible. The considerations related to justicediscussed in section 3.3 may help us to appreciate this. For consideronce more the position of the framed innocent, whose fundamentalinterests have been sacrificed for the sake of the greater good. Sucha person may well complain that he hasnot been treatedimpartially, in the appropriate sense; for, while it is true that hisinterests were counted in determining the nature of the overall good,it is nevertheless also true that ultimately, he became the victim ofa form of abuse that was both harsh and undeserved. The framedinnocent might also back up his complaint by making the plausibleclaim that, had he been in a position to choose, he would never haveconsented to a moral system that allowedanyone to beaccorded such treatment. Thus, while there is a sense in which hisinterests were counted equally, there is another and very importantsense in which his interests – and perhaps more importantly, hisclaims and rights – do not seem to have received full oradequate consideration at all.

Many deontologists insist that consequentialism errs by failing toaccord proper significance to the moral agent as an individual; inJohn Rawls’ words, consequentialism “does not takeseriously the distinction between persons” (Rawls 1971, section5). (Rawls has utilitarianism in particular as his target, but thepoint applies more widely.) Paul Hurley writes, “Moralityenslaves us to the impersonal standpoint unless we recognize theindependent moral significance of persons. Recognition of the moralsignificance that persons have independent of their impersonal moralsignificance is necessary both to secure the rational authority ofmoral requirements and to fend off enslavement of the agent to theimpersonal standpoint by morality” (Hurley 2009, 178). AndSamuel Scheffler suggests that “for human beings as creatureswith values, the normative force of certain forms of partiality isnearly unavoidable. If that is right, then for morality to rejectpartiality in a general or systematic way would be for it to setitself against our nature as valuing creatures. And that, I believe,would make morality an incoherent enterprise” (Scheffler2010).

Thus, the fact that consequentialist impartiality makes extraordinaryand, to many, unreasonable demands on the individual (section 3.2)might be taken to indicate that consequentialism fails to takeindividuals seriously asagents. At the same time, the factthat consequentialist impartiality permits the individual to be usedas a mere means when doing so promotes the greater good (section3.3)might indicate that consequentialism fails to take individualsseriously aspatients. The conception of impartiality thattends to be favored by deontologists avoids such implications byrefusing to view impartial action simply as a matter of maximizinginterests (or some other version of the impersonally determined good.)Deontologists takethe right rather thanthe good tobe fundamental to ethics, and tend to see moral action in terms ofacting in accordance with principles that are rationally acceptable toall.

Exactly what these principles are, and exactly what method should beused to determine them, are matters of some disagreement amongdeontological theorists. But there does seem to be a general consensusamong deontologists that moral impartiality doesnot requirethat an agent be strictly neutral between her own good and the good ofother people in ordinary decision-making contexts. Rather, an agent ispermitted on deontological views to give special attention to her ownprojects and interests. Impartiality might be required in certainspecial contexts—for instance, when one is serving on a hiringcommittee or a jury, grading student papers, or designinglegislation—but it is not seen as a general and pervasiverequirement applying to everyday decisions and behavior. In one sense,this places a limit on impartiality’s scope and demands; but itis compatible with viewing impartiality as having a central andirreducible role in morality. After all, on many deontological viewsthe rules and principles permitting partiality at the everyday level(to oneself, to friends and relatives, to one’s own projects,etc.) are justified in terms that appeal directly to impartialconsiderations. It might be claimed, for instance, thateveryone’s autonomy and dignity—which areunderstood as moral features possessed equally by all—are bestrespected by adopting a set of moral rules and practices according towhich each person is permitted to carve out a space for their ownprojects and relationships, within which the requirement to beimpartial does not generally apply. This is just to say thatfirst-order partiality is compatible withsecond-orderimpartiality (Barry 1995; see also Hooker 2010).

The fact that deontological theories generally permit (some degree of)first-order partiality – that is, that agents are permitted topay special attention to their own interests, projects, and loved ones– should not, then, be taken to imply either that theagent’s interests areobjectively more valuable thanthose of other persons, or that the agent is justified in viewing themas such. Rather, the deontologist will claim, it reflects the factthat it is morally legitimate (perhaps, again, because justifiable insecond-order impartialist terms) for an agent to regard her own goalsand interests as especially importantto her. Thus,deontological moral systems tend to incorporate an irreducible elementof agent-relativity of a sort that consequentialist theories reject(Nagel 1986; McNaughton & Rawling 1992, 1993, 1998; Jollimore2001; Kamm 2007 ).

The incorporation of agent-relativity of this sort into deontologicaltheories allows such theories to escape the most straightforwardversions of the claim that they demand too much of moral agents.Nevertheless, various versions of that objection have been leveledagainst deontological theories. It has been claimed, for instance,that Kantianism, by insisting that only actions performed out of themotive of duty have moral worth, delegitimizes or even forbids thetype of motives which typically (and perhaps necessarily) operate inthe context of close personal relationships (Stocker 1976; Williams;1981). Typically, Kantians have responded by distancing themselvesfrom the view thatonly actions motivated by duty have value,and acknowledging instead that a commitment to duty need only functionas a limiting condition, rather than as the primary source ofmotivation in all cases (Baron 1995). The Kantian account of moralvalue, of course, is not essential to deontological theories; andthose theories which eschew it may well be able to avoid thedemandingness objection altogether.

4.2 Impartiality and universalizability

On many deontological views, particularly Kantian ones, thesignificance of moral impartiality is seen as arising from the factthat a core role is given to the concept of universalizability (Gert1998; Hare 1981; Kant 1964 [1785]; Kohlberg 1979). The requirementthat moral judgments be universalizable is, roughly, the requirementthat such judgments be independent of any particular point of view.Thus, an agent who judges thatA ought morally to doX in situationS ought to be willing to endorse thesame judgment whether she herself happens to beA, or someother individual involved in the situation (someone who, perhaps, willbe directly affected byA’s actions), or an entirelyneutral observer. Her particular identity is completely irrelevant inthe determination of the correctness or appropriateness of thejudgment.

Universalizability, thus formulated, does imply at least one sort ofimpartiality: an agent whose judgments are universalizable will bemorally consistent, in the sense that she will judge her own actionsby the same standards she applies to others. Such an agent will notmake an exception of herself by allowing herself to break a rule sheregards as binding for others, or to perform any other action whichshe would not accept if performed by another agent. Impartiality ofthis sort, however, does not necessarily imply any sort ofimpartiality with respect to other individuals’ interests,rights, or claims. On a minimally demanding interpretation of theuniversalizability requirement, the judgments made by a person whoseconception of the good was intrinsically racist – that is, aperson who held that the well-being of members of some one particularrace mattered more (or less), objectively speaking, than thewell-being of members of other races – could very well turn outto be universalizable, so long as the racist held that his judgmentswere objectively correct, and so ought to be assented to by allindividuals – including those individuals who would bedisadvantaged by the general adoption of those views (cf. Gewirth1978, 164; Gert 1998, Chapter 6; Wiggins 1978; Williams 1985,115).

However, the conclusion that the racist’s judgments areuniversalizable presupposes a very minimal account of whatuniversalizability requires. On this account, it requires only that anagent be sincerely committed to the objectivity of his judgments, inthe sense that he views them (from his current perspective) as correctfrom all perspectives, and thus as calling for everyone’s assent(whether or not that assent is actually given.) (Cf. Parfit 2011, I,323–24) There are two ways of making the universalizabilityrequirement more demanding. The first is to appeal to certaincounterfactual claims about what the agentwould endorse ifhe actuallydid occupy various perspectives. On this view, aparticular judgment byA is universalizable if and only ifA endorses that judgment from his current perspective,and would endorse the same judgment from any otherperspective. Given this understanding of universalizability, itis much less likely – indeed, extraordinarily unlikely –that racist views will turn out to be universalizable; for it is notgenerally true of individuals that they would endorse the view“The well-being of members of raceR matters less thanthe well-being of members of other races” if they themselveswere members of raceR. However, such a view may well requiretoo much, for there are few if any moral judgments or principles thatwould be endorsed fromevery perspective any given agentmight occupy.

A different approach to universalizability eschews the appeal topsychological facts altogether, and holds that whether or not aparticular judgment is universalizable is a logical fact rather than apsychological one. Kant’s categorical imperative test, forexample, holds that universalizability is the distinguishing featureof correct moral judgments, and that a judgment is universalizable ifand only if it can, without contradiction, be willed as a universalpractical law (Kant 1964 [1785]). Since the test hinges on whether thewilling of a judgment as a universal law results in acontradiction, it follows that whether or not a judgmentis universalizable in this way is a matter of practicalreason, and does not depend on which particular individual’swill happens to be involved.

The types of impartiality implied by both of these more demandingversions of the universalizability requirement are likely to beconsiderably more substantial than the formal consistency required bythe minimal version. Kant, for instance, seems to hold thatuniversalizability implies a certain level of altruism or charity, inthe form of the imperfect duties we owe towards other individuals.There are problems, however, with Kant’s argument for this. Inparticular, it is not clear just how the universal willing of a maximsuch as “When others are in need of help, I always ignore theirneeds” give rise to any sort ofcontradiction. It istrue, of course, that, were we actually in a position to choose theuniversal maxims on which all rational persons would act, this wouldbe a poor choice, for we might someday be in need of assistance fromanother. But to say that the willing of this maxim as a universal lawwould beimprudent is not to say that doing so iscontradictory. Moreover, as David Wiggins (1978) points out,certain other actions that seem as if they ought to be morallypermissible – the act, for instance, of releasing a debtor fromhis debt out of generosity – have maxims that seem to fail theuniversalizability test so conceived. These examples may point to ageneral problem with the attempt to derive impartiality fromuniversalizability: whereas the latter, at least on a Kantianinterpretation, is a formal property of moral judgments, moralimpartiality, as we have seen, is a substantive rather than a formalconcept. (See Herman 1993 and Korsgaard 1996 for attempts to respondto these problems.)

It should be mentioned that some moral theorists have attempted toderive various versions of consequentialist impartiality more or lessdirectly from the universalizability requirement (Hare 1981, Cummiskey1996, Pettit 2000; see also Harsanyi 1982). However, the claim that aconception of impartiality that is not only substantive but alsoextraordinarily demanding can be derived from a requirement which, asjust pointed out, is essentially a formal one, continues to strike amajority of moral philosophers as dubious.

4.3 Other Deontological Approaches

The Universalizability Formulation is one of four formulations of thecategorical imperative Kant provided, and some recent Kantiantheorists have de-emphasized it, placing more weight on otherformulations. Houston Smit and Mark Timmons suggest that thehumanity formulation, “which commands individuals to treathumanity as an end in itself, never merely as a means” (2017,175) be read as attributing to autonomous beings an “elevatedstatus of dignity” which “is something all rational agentspossess (and possess equally) as far as dignity qua autonomous agentsgoes […]. This equal status is the basis of aprinciple of moralequality” (187). This in turn implies two principlesof impartiality. The positive principle of impartiality states that“one is to adopt maxims and perform corresponding actions thatmanifest a positive concern for the ends [especially the needs] ofothers.” The negative principle of impartiality states that“one is to avoid adopting maxims or performing actions thatmanifest a negative concern for the ends (especially the needs) ofothers.” Both of these principles, they point out,“concern the welfare of persons.” (187–8) Smit andTimmons go on to argue that these principles of impartiality imply aduty of beneficence which “involves adopting an unselfish maximthat disposes one to promote the well-being of others in need without,as Kant says, ‘hoping for something in return.’”(206) There is some common ground here with utilitarian approaches,though of course on a Kantian account the duty of beneficence is animperfect duty: one need not do everything one can by way of helpingothers in need in order to demonstrate the proper sort of respect forthe humanity of others. (This leaves open, of course, the question ofjust how much one is required to do.)

Many moral theorists, including Kant himself, have noted similaritiesbetween his universalizability formulation of the categoricalimperative and the Golden Rule (“We ought to treat others as wewould want others to treat us,” in Derek Parfit’sformulation (2011, I, 321). Kant himself argued that theuniversalizability formulation was superior, though some havedisagreed. Parfit argues that Kant’s reasons for rejecting theGolden Rule are generally unconvincing, and largely relied onKant’s smuggling his own assumptions into the presuppositions ofthe rule. Ultimately, Parfit argues for a principle that combines thefundamental insight of the Golden Rule with elements ofuniversalizability and contractualism, which he calls “theKantian Contractualist Formula”: “Everyone ought to followthe principles whose universal acceptance everyone could rationallywill.” “This formula,” he writes, “might bewhat Kant was trying to find: the supreme principle of morality”(2011, I, 321).

Other deontologists have emphasized the importance of seeing moralityas fundamentally interpersonal in nature. Paul Hurley (2009) arguesthat consequentialists misconstrue moral impartiality by interpretingit as fundamentally impersonal: “whereas the impersonalconception captures a form of equal concern for persons that isappropriate, in the first instance, for the evaluation of overallstates of affairs as better or worse, this interpersonal conception ofimpartiality is relevant, in the first instance, to the evaluation ofpotential courses of action as right or wrong. […] Moreover, such afundamental role for interpersonal impartiality in the moralevaluation of actions provides a rationale for the agent-centeredrestrictions and permissions that are central to ordinarymorality.” (Hurley 2009, 179) Although this interpersonalstandpoint does not offer an agent-neutral ranking of outcomes, andthus “generates agent-centered reasons and claims, reasons andclaims to do and not to do, not to prevent or promote overalloutcomes,” Hurley argues that it nevertheless captures a robustand substantial understanding of moral impartiality—anunderstanding, moreover, that fits our ordinary moral beliefs andpractices and better accommodates the rational authority of moralitythan the agent-neutral impersonal framework endorsed byconsequentialism. “If practical reason has a fundamentallyinterpersonal structure, then it is structured by an equal concern byeach person for each other person. Each person has an independentrational significance that is reflected explicitly in reasons thatothers have not to interfere with them, and in claims that each personhas not to be interfered with by any other person” (Hurley 2009,220).

4.4 Contractualist models of deontological impartiality

Parfit’s “Kantian Contractualist Formula,” mentionedin the previous section, adheres to the contractualist approach tomoral theorizing, which gives expression to two insights fundamentalto Kantian thinking: that morality is objective, and not simply amatter of personal opinion or expression of interest and desire; andthat from the standpoint of morality, each person matters just as muchas, and no more than, any other person. Contractualism borrows fromthe social contract tradition the idea that morality may be viewed asthe result of an agreement between those who are to be bound by itsdictates. Two variants of this approach can be distinguished. Theformer, sometimes referred to ascontractarianism, identifiesthe participants in the bargaining process with actual individuals,and thus is broadly historical. The latter approach, by contrast,appeals to what agentswould choose under various, quitepossibly unrealizable conditions, and is thushypotheticalrather than historical. It is the latter approach that will concern ushere.

The hypothetical contractualist model, then, regards moral principlesas the result of a bargaining process among a group of agents, subjectto certain restrictions that are specified so as to guarantee that thechosen principles will meet the demands of second-order impartiality.The most famous example of this approach is John Rawls’‘veil of ignorance’, as described in (Rawls 1971).According to Rawls, the principles of a just society are those thatwould be chosen by self-interested rational agents in the‘original position’ – a position in which agentspossess broad knowledge about human history and the nature of theworld they live in, but are denied specific information regardingtheir own particular identities or prospects in the society inquestion, the nature of that society, and, crucially, the nature oftheir own particular conception of the good. Since nobody knows whothey will be or what social position they will occupy, there is noopportunity for anyone in an advantaged position to take advantage ofthat position in order to force a less privileged party to concede toan otherwise unacceptable outcome. It is this fact that allows Rawlsto claim that principles chosen under the veil of ignorance areguaranteed to be impartially acceptable to all – and thus,guaranteed not to be unjust.

It should be noted that Rawls does not intend that morality in itsentirely be derived from the original position. Rather, the functionof the original position is limited to the choice of the most generalprinciples of social justice in a well-ordered society (Rawls 1971,section 2; 2001, section 12). Nevertheless, Rawls’ mechanism isintended to draw the broad outlines of what many see as the mostimportant part of morality: its public or political aspect. By viewingpolitical morality as the result of an agreement between contractorslimited by the strictures of the veil of ignorance, Rawls intends todevelop a political philosophy that reflects his commitment to theidea of liberal neutrality: the idea, that is, that each person has aprivate right to her own conception of the good, and that particularconceptions of the good therefore ought not to be legislativelyinstituted, nor legislated against.

An especially difficult task attending a project of this sort is thatof determining what shape this political morality will take –that is, determining which principles would be chosen by agents in theoriginal position. On Rawls’ account, the contractors settle onprinciples that guaranteed as much liberty as possible for all and,within the limits set by this guarantee, a roughly egalitariandistribution of goods in which inequalities are allowed only if theyare to the benefit of the worst off (Rawls 1971, section 11; 2001,Part II). The claim that such principles would recognize all personsas equals – and thus, their claim to reflect the demands ofmoral impartiality – is supported by several considerations, ofwhich three are perhaps most significant: first, that all persons areguaranteed equal (and substantial) civil liberties; second, that theresulting allocation of resources is broadly egalitarian, and inparticular, ensures, so far as is possible, that the fundamental needsof all persons are met; and third, that since the only inequalitiesthat are permitted are those that would benefit the least advantaged,it can presumably be assumed that the least advantaged would givetheir assent to the existence of such inequalities (they would not,even if they could, veto the system.)

In Rawls’ scheme, the function of the veil of ignorance isnecessary to prevent rational self-interested persons from using theirknowledge of their own positions to win unfair advantages over others.(Whether such an approach can provide genuine impartiality betweencompeting conceptions of the good is a difficult question that will befurther considered in section 5.) An alternative approach abandonsboth the veil of ignorance and the assumption that the bargainingparties are primarily self-interested. This is the strategy favored byT.M. Scanlon, whose contractors are motivated not by self-interest butby ‘the desire for reasonable agreement’ (Scanlon 1982,115 n. 10; see also Scanlon 1978, 1998; Barry 1995). On the resultingaccount of moral permissibility, “an act is wrong if itsperformance under the circumstances would be disallowed by any systemof rules for the general regulation of behavior which no one couldreasonably reject as a basis for informed, unforced generalagreement” (Scanlon, 1982, 110). The requirement of impartialityis captured here by the basic fact that the question is whethereveryone who is to live under the selected rules canreasonably accept them. As in Rawls’ theory, however, theprinciples of second-order impartiality accepted at the contract levelallow for considerable first-order partiality at the level ofagent-choice. Somewhat similarly, Gert (1998) argues for a list ofmoral rules which “all impartial rational persons would favorincluding […] as part of the moral system” (158).

Since interpretations of impartiality, what it requires, and how itconnects with other moral concepts can vary considerably,contractualist theories that recognize impartiality as a core elementcan nevertheless vary widely in terms of what they requires of agents.Harsanyi (1977) argues that a version of utilitarianism can bedefended on the basis of an “equiprobability model,”according to which an agent ought to choose between social systems“under the assumption that, in either system, he would have thesame probability of occupying any one of the available socialpositions” (Harsanyi 1982, 45; cf. Hare 1981). Gauthier (1986)also views his theory as meeting the demands of impartiality, evenwhile explicitly denying that a substantial notion of equality plays amajor role: “Equality is not a fundamental concern in ourtheory. In arguing that social institutions and practices arejustified by appeal to a hypotheticalex ante agreement amongfully informed rational persons, we have appealed to the equalrationality of the bargainers to show that their agreement satisfiesthe moral standard of impartiality. But impartial practices respectpersons as they are, the inequalities among them as well as theequalities” (270). Obviously, such a combination of claims isnot uncontroversial; while it is clear that a notion of impartialitycan be defined that respects existing inequalities as well asequalities, it will not be immediately obvious to everyone why such anotion ought to have deep moral significance or to be reflected in ourmoral practices.

5. Impartiality: Its demands and scope

5.1 The cognitive challenge of impartiality

In addition to objections directed specifically towardconsequentialist or deontological conceptions of impartiality, thereare also objections aimed at the very idea that impartiality ought tobe viewed as fundamental to morality. Some would argue thatimpartiality, as conceived by traditional ethical theories, makesextraordinary and unreasonable cognitive demands on moral agents. Thisworry must be distinguished from the objection to consequentialistimpartiality considered earlier, which claimed that thesacrifices demanded by consequentialist impartiality wereunreasonable and excessive. The objection now being considered is notthat impartiality asks the agent to give up too much, but rather thatthe cognitive feats demanded by these moral theories will exceed thecapacity of the typical moral agent. Indeed, one popular version ofthis objection alleges that an agent will require an unreasonableamount of knowledge or cognitive ability simply to be able to identifywhat the demands of impartialityare (Friedman 1989; Walker1991). Given the conception of the impartial point of view as a‘God’s eye’ point of view, for example (Baier 1958),it seems questionable whether it is ever reasonable to expect a humanmoral agent to be able to occupy such a perspective. God, quiteobviously, possesses far more knowledge than does any human being;moreover, God’s point of view is both objective and impersonalin ways that an individual human’s perspective cannot be. (AsMargaret Urban Walker points out, it is often said that human beingshave to live with their decisions, but it sounds very odd to say thatof God (Walker 1991, 765).)

Similar remarks apply to the conception of the impartial point of viewas ‘the point of view of the universe’ (Sidgwick 1907), toHare’s conception of the ideal moral agent as a so-called‘archangel’ (Hare, 1981), and, Walker claims, toFirth’s conception of the ideal impartial observer (Firth,1952.) Similarly, Marilyn Friedman points out that even if a persondid manage to occupy such a point of view for a period of time –supposing such a thing to be possible – there would be no way tobe certain that she had successfully done so: standard conceptions ofimpartiality, she claims, prescribe “methods of normativethinking [which] represent psychological and epistemic feats, theachievement of which we have no independent way to confirm”(Friedman 1991, 645).

5.2 Impartiality, Impersonality, and Indifference

A second objection to traditional conceptions of moral impartialityfinds fault with the traditional tendency to define impartiality innegative or abstract terms – in terms, that is, of whichelements must beabsent from the psychology of the agent, orwhich we mustpretend are absent in the process ofidealization. M.C. Henberg, for instance, claims that most if not allprocedural accounts of impartiality confuse it with disinterest orimpersonality, and thus, ultimately, with indifference. (It should benoted that many impartialists are quite explicit about the linkbetween morality, impartiality, and the lack of emotion; Baier (1958),for instance, writes that “the moral point of view [is] that ofan independent, unbiased, impartial, objective, dispassionate,disinterested observer” (201; see also Firth 1952).) Similarly,Richard Brandt argues that it is a mistake to define moralimpartiality with reference to an ideal observer who is defined as(among other things) disinterested; for after all, “it is notclear that a purely disinterested being would support a moral systemat all” (Brandt 1979, 227). While Brandt’s complaint isparticularly directed at the ideal observer theory of (Firth 1952),this objection seems to apply much more broadly; it is obvious, forinstance, that Rawls’s veil of ignorance is designed preciselyto prevent the contractors from acting in an interested manner.

The problem is not only that impersonal persons of this sort arelikely to suffer from massive indifference, but also that there isalleged to be a conceptual difficulty with the very idea of conceivingimpartiality in such terms. An abstract or impersonal evaluator, it isargued, could not possibly make reliable judgments about substantivemoral matters (whether or not he was motivated to), since he would beunable to appreciate the particular concerns of the contestingparties. Both of these difficulties – the motivational and thecognitive – are well expressed by Iris Marion Young, who rejectsaltogether the idea that morality is primarily a matter ofimpartiality:

The ideal of impartiality is an idealist fiction. It is impossible toadopt an unsituated point of view, and if a point of view is situated,it cannot stand apart from and understand all points of view. It isimpossible to reason about substantive moral issues withoutunderstanding their substance, which always presupposes someparticular social and historical context; and one has no motive formaking moral judgments and resolving moral dilemmas unless the outcomematters, unless one has a particular and passionate interest in theoutcome […] when class, race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, andage define different social locations, one subject cannot fullyempathize with another in a different social location, adopt her pointof view; if that were possible then the social locations would not bedifferent. (Young 1990, 104–5; cf. Benhabib 1987, 90)

5.3 Impartiality, Objectivity, and Neutrality

One can agree with critics like Young in being skeptical regardingnaive interpretations of impartiality without wholeheartedly rejectingimpartiality as either unrealistic or undesirable. Even if our abilityto empathize with others, or to genuinely put ourselves in theirplace, is limited by psychological constraints, the attempt to do somay represent an ideal that is worth aspiring to. Moreover, we neednot follow Young in identifying impartiality with “an unsituatedpoint of view.” An aspiration toward impartiality might insteadinvolve an attempt to avoid parochialism by being open to as manydifferent voices and viewpoints as possible. Amartya Sen finds such anaspiration in the work of Adam Smith, writing that “one ofSmith’s major methodological concerns is the need to invoke awide variety of viewpoints and outlooks based on diverse experiencesfrom far and near, rather than remaining contented withencounters—actual or counterfactual—with others living inthe same cultural and social milieu, and with the same kind ofexperiences, prejudices and convictions about what is reasonable andwhat is not, and even beliefs about what is feasible and what isnot” (Sen 2009, 45).

It is on this basis that Sen distinguishes between what he calls‘open’ and ‘closed’ impartiality. Thedistinction “turns on whether or not the exercise of impartialassessment is confined … to a fixed group.” Since thecontractors behind the veil of ignorance are aware that they are partof a certain society (and do not see themselves in any sense asrepresenting the world as a whole), the veil of ignorance representsan impartial system only in the closed sense. Therefore, Sen complainsthat “As a device of structured political analysis, theprocedure is not geared to addressing the need to overcome groupprejudices” (Sen 2002, 446). By contrast, openimpartiality, which Sen finds recommended in the works of Adam Smith(see Smith 1759), demands “that the viewpoints of others,whether or not belonging to some group of which one is specifically amember, receive adequate attention.” Sen applies thisdistinction to John Rawls’s view of justice as grounded in acontract devised by hypothetical contractors under a veil ofignorance, writing that:

The Rawlsian ‘veil of ignorance’ in the’original position’ is a very effective device for makingpeople see beyond their personal vested interests and goals. And yetit does little to ensure an open scrutiny of local and possiblyparochial values …. The Smithian procedure includes …the insistence that the exercise of impartiality must be open (ratherthan locally closed) since “we can do this in no other way thanby endeavoring to view them with the eyes of other people, or as otherpeople are likely to view them.” (Sen 2009, 128; Smith1976[1759], III, 1, 2, 110)

For Sen, the attempt to be impartial by opening conversation (anddirecting one’s own attention) to as many different perspectivesas possible is closely related to aspirations to ethical objectivity:“to the extent that we look for ethical objectivity, thereasoning that is necessary has to satisfy what can be seen as therequirements of impartiality” (Sen 2009, 46). Objective moralreasoning, that is, requires a willingness to consider arguments andconsiderations presented by all members of the moral community, andthis receptivity must ideally be extended to all on an equal basis.Such impartiality, as conceived by Sen, seems closely related to thevirtue identified by Miranda Fricker as “testimonialjustice,” the “specificallyanti-prejudicialcurrent that the virtuous hearer’s sensibility needs to containin order that the hearer may not be led into perpetrating testimonialinjustices” (Fricker 2007, 86). Testimonial injustices, asunderstood by Fricker, occur when people silence, ignore, or refuse totake seriously other people’s views and ideas for certain sortsof reasons—for instance, because they have been led by theiracceptance of a stereotype to believe that people like the speaker aregenerally not worth listening to. (Thus Fricker describes the centralcase of testimonial injustice as an “identity-prejudicialcredibility deficit” (28).) Moreover, Sen’s commentsabout impartiality suggest he would agree with Fricker that therelevant character trait “serves not one but two ultimatevalues: it simultaneously protects both truth and justice”(Fricker, 120).)

Sen, as mentioned, identifies Rawlsian liberalism as one target of hisconcern. The idea of picturing society, as Rawls and othercontractualists picture it, as guided by a hypothetical agreementbetween persons, each of whom is equally empowered to revoke theagreement, is to capture the idea that the rules governing societymust in some sense be acceptable to all, and must embody, in some deepway, the ideal of equal respect. Sen’s complaint about the’closed impartiality’ of such systems, however, draws ourattention to the fact that this approach risks leaving those not partyto the contract out in the cold. But surely it is plausible to thinkthat a society, in order to be just, must not only treat (and avoidtreating)its own citizens in certain ways, but must alsorespect certain rules regarding its behavior towards members of othersocieties. As Charles Jones (1999) writes, “Unlike Rawls… I see no reason to restrict our moral focus to the basicstructure of any particular nation-state; on the contrary, ifone’s concern is with the justifiability of the institutionswhich determine people’s life chances, there are compellinggrounds for taking a wider view.” There are various responsesopen to Rawlsian theorists. Rawls himself suggests that we imagine asecond veil of ignorance behind which representatives of varioussocieties can meet in order to set fair and impartial ground rules forinternational relations. Much like justice within states, Rawlswrites, “Justice between states is determined by the principlesthat would be chosen in the original position so interpreted. Theseprinciples are political principles, for they govern public policiestoward other nations” (Rawls 1971; for relevant laterdevelopments see Rawls 1999b).

Others, particularly feminist critics, have worried that the Rawlsianapproach might exclude certain peoplewithin any givensociety. Susan Moller Okin, Martha Nussbaum, and others have pointedout thatA Theory of Justice pays little specific attentionto the family as an institution for structuring society; rather, it issimply assumed that society will be composed of families, and whilethe rules of justice govern relations between various “heads ofhouseholds,” Rawls’s attitude often seems to be that as aprivate institution, what goes on within the family is immune tocriticism from the perspective of justice (Okin 1989; see also Okin1994). Such a view, of course, would ignore the fact that a great manyinjustices can take place within families: neglect, child and spouseabuse, and inegalitarian distributions of resources and of labor, andvarious forms of testimonial injustice, among others. Thus, in asociety in which males tend to command more power and resources thanfemales—which, of course, describes mostsocieties—adherence to the principles arising out of theOriginal Position would be insufficient to avoid certain forms ofdiscrimination and oppression. (Here, too, Rawls modified his viewssomewhat in later writings, in light of such criticisms (Rawls 1993,Rawls 1999a).) More generally, feminist philosophers have frequentlyraised concerns about the ways in which liberal conceptions ofneutrality and impartiality presuppose and reinforce traditionalmale-dominated, individualistic approaches to moral theory, and indoing so reinforce the social status quo (Gilligan 1982; Noddings1984; Benhabib 1987; Young 1990). As Benhabib has pointed out,“Universalistic moral theories in the Western tradition fromHobbes to Rawls aresubstitutionalist, in the sense that theuniversalism they defend is defined surreptitiously by identifying theexperiences of a specific group of subjects as the paradigmatic caseof the human as such. These subjects are invariably white, male adultswho are propertied or at least professional.” (Benhabib 1987,81) As a result, the dominant social positions of such parties tend tobe protected and even enhanced in the social and political theoriesresulting from such allegedly neutral liberal theories.

The general concern is that contractualists and others claiming toground moral theory in impartial considerations might smuggle in theirown substantive moral positions and biases under the guise ofneutrality. Rawls’s use of the veil of ignorance, for example,has been criticized by Thomas Nagel and others on the basis that, byrequiring that agents lack knowledge of their conceptions of the good(a necessary stipulation of the bargainers are to achieve aconsensus), the veil of ignorance excludes from the original positioninformation that is morally relevant, and indeed may put some of thebargainers at a disadvantage. “The original position,”Nagel writes, “seems to presuppose not just a neutral theory ofthe good, but a liberal, individualistic conception according to whichthe best that can be wished for someone is the unimpeded pursuit ofhis own path, provided it does not interfere with the rights ofothers” (Nagel 1973; see also Teitelman 1972; Schwartz 1973;Sandel 1982; Benhabib 1987). Such a conception, it is held, clearlydoes favor some conceptions of the good over others: in particular,atomic, individualistic conceptions focusing on personal fulfillment(constituted, perhaps, through the acquisition of consumer goods) areprivileged over more communal or social ideals that focus onsolidarity and mutual interaction between persons (Sandel 1982; cf.O’Neill 1997, Chapter 1).

The problem of neutrality is a pressing one for liberals: given theimportance to their view of the thought that an impartial governmentmust be neutral between various moral conceptions (it must, that is,respect what Rawls calls ‘the fact of pluralism’), it isessential to show that liberal impartialism does not simply representanother such moral conception (or ‘sectarian view’) in itsown right. Liberal impartialism, then, must turn out to be a frameworkthat can be agreed to by all relevant parties, even as they continueto disagree regarding particular substantive moral issues.

How is the liberal to establish this? Nagel (1987) endorses what hecalls ‘epistemological restraint,’ which holds that it canbe reasonable for an individual to hold certain beliefs yetsimultaneously unreasonable to attempt to decide matters of publicpolicy on the basis of such beliefs. Such beliefs, which tend to bemoral or religious in nature, are said to be viewed differently fromthe inside (from which standpoint they have perfect authority) thanfrom the outside (from which standpoint they are regarded asquestionable). The difficulty, as Barry (1995) and Raz (1990) havepointed out, is to explain why doubts visible from the outside wouldnot infect the internal point of view, thus weakening thesebeliefs’ internal authority as well. (It should be noted thatNagel himself has expressed doubts about this argument; see Nagel1991.)

Rawls’s view appears to be similar to Nagel’s (and thus,subject to the same difficulty). According to Rawls, to endorse a viewof justice is not to claim that it is true; moreover, theacceptability of liberal impartialism is not to be derived from itstruth; rather, such a view will be accepted (it is to be hoped)because, in societies of the relevant sort, it will form a commonelement (an ‘overlapping consensus’) in the variouscompeting conceptions of the good that occupy the public sphere (Rawls1993). (Again, the criticisms contained in Raz 1990 are especiallytrenchant.)

While both Nagel and Rawls explicitly reject the idea that liberalimpartialism is to be justified on the basis of skepticism towardvarious conceptions of the good, Barry (1995) explicitly endorses thisform of justification. (Barry emphasizes that the relevant form ofskepticism does not involve eschewing one’s moral and religiousbeliefs, but rather rejecting the claim to becertain of thetruth of those beliefs.) This approach has been criticized on thebasis that such skepticism itself constitutes a sectarian view, andtherefore is not neutral (Larmore 1987, Mendus 2002) However, as Barrypoints out, the decisive issue is not whether some people would rejectskepticism, but whether it canreasonably be rejected –and given Barry’s definition of skepticism, its claim to resistbeing so rejected seems considerably stronger than the claims of thevarious conceptions of the good themselves, which must indeed beexcluded from the public sphere.

6. Partiality and Impartiality

6.1 Relationships and the Justification of Partiality

While some philosophers reject the moral significance of partialityaltogether, holding that morality is both fundamentally and thoroughlyimpartial, many agree with Nagel (1991) that morality includes bothpartial and impartial elements, and that neither is reducible to theother. In particular, the context of “special” or“personal” relationships constitutes an area in which itseems plausible to many to think that partiality to certain people isnot infrequently permissible and sometimes morally admirable and/orobligatory. There is, however, no generally accepted account of whatjustifies partiality in this area.

One influential account of partiality’s justification appeals tothe value of personal projects. Since personal projects and/or theability to pursue personal projects are important, and since agentswho were required to be completely impartial in every aspect of lifewould be unable to pursue such projects, we should allow that peopleare not required to be absolutely impartial in every aspect of life.Bernard Williams (1981) famously argues that at least some of anagent’s projects – he calls them “groundprojects” – are fundamental components of theagent’s identity, and an agent who gives them up, because she isrequired to do so by morality, or for any other reason, will findherself with no reason to be moral, to go on living, or to do anythingat all. Other philosophers, including Wolf (1992; see also 1982),MacIntyre (1984), Sandel (1982), and Stroud (2010) also base thejustification of partiality on the value and significance of personalprojects and commitments. (For Sandel and MacIntyre this means,largely, commitments to the political community that has formedone’s identity and to which one owes one’sallegiance.)

A second possible account sees our personal relationships as thesource of partiality’s justification. Kolodny (2003) argues thatpersonal relationships bear “final value” and that thisgrounds special obligations toward those people to whom we arerelated. Similarly, Scheffler (2004), argues that valuing arelationship non-instrumentally necessarily involves seeing it asgiving rise to certain reasons that will be partial in nature. Avariation on this sort of view agrees that relationships aresignificant but suggests that we should view reasons, rather thanvalue, as fundamental. On such views our reasons for givingpreferential treatment to those to whom we are related are notgrounded in the value of those relationships and indeed need not bereduced to or grounded in anything else at all; they carry inherentand irreducible normative significance. Views of this sort are putforward by Scanlon (1998) and Jeske (2008).

Keller (2013) criticizes both the projects-based view and therelationship-based view, and argues instead for a third alternative,which he calls “the individuals view.” According to theindividuals view, reasons that justify the special treatment of thoseto whom we are related “arise from facts about the individualswith whom our special relationships are shared” (79). Ratherthan acting as reasons for treating those persons better than others,our relationships act as enablers –that is, backgroundconditions that explain why some facts count as reasons for a givenagent. (Keller borrows the idea of an enabler, and the term, fromJonathan Dancy; see especially Dancy (2004). For similar views, whichalso draw on Dancy’s work, see Jollimore (2011) and Lord(2016).)

The question of how to justify partiality to friends, relatives,intimates, and others to whom we bear “special”relationships has implications for many questions concerningimpartiality and our broader obligations, and to the issue of who getsincluded in the community of moral recognition. Consider, forinstance, the moral questions that arise with respect to our treatmentof non-human animals. While it may once have been plausible (orgenerally regarded as such) to see the fact that a given organismbelonged to the human species as indicating that it possessedintrinsic properties grounding a special moral status, and hence wasentitled to better forms of treatment than “mere” animalswere entitled to, such a view is no longer clearly defensible.Accordingly, in recent decades many consequentialists have used someform of “marginal cases” argument to argue that we havemore moral obligations to non-human animals than has generally beenrecognized. If we would object to killing and eating a humanindividual for food—even a severely cognitively disabled humanindividual who is, say, no more intelligent than the averagepig—how can we justify killing and eating pigs for food? How wethink about marginal cases arguments, and obligations to non-humans,will likely reflect what we think regarding the nature of partialityto particular humans. Holding some version of the individuals view,for instance, would seem to lend support to the commonconsequentialist contention that obligations to individuals (whetherhuman or non-human) must depend on the intrinsic qualities of thoseindividuals, rather than on our relations to them. Thus, to eject someindividual from the community of moral recognition merely because itbelongs to a different species, and not our own, would constitute aviolation of moral impartiality at least somewhat comparable toregarding somehuman as not worthy of moral considerationbecause they belonged to a different ethnic group (Singer 1974; seealso McMahan 2002, 218–28).

Other philosophers, by contrast, have endorsed a version of therelationship-based view with respect to our moral duties to humans andnon-human animals, holding that we have special obligations to theformer, and not to the latter, in something like the way we havespecial obligations to distant relatives. When Bernard Williamswrites, “There are certain respects in which creatures aretreated one way rather than another simply because they belong to acertain category, the human species,” he is not merelydescribing but endorsing the view that species membership is relevant,at least for human beings (Williams 2008, 142). Similarly, T.M.Scanlon sees his contractualism as justifying the significance ofsuch ties, writing that “The mere fact that a being is ’ofhuman born’ provides a strong reason for according it the samestatus as other humans. This has sometimes been characterized as aprejudice, called ‘speciesism.’ But it is not prejudice tohold that our relation to these beings gives us reason to accept therequirement that our actions should be justifiable to them. Nor is itprejudice to recognize that this particular reason does not apply toother beings with comparable capacities, whether or not there areother reasons to accept this requirement with regard to them”(Scanlon 1998, 185). (See also Diamond 1991, 2018.)

Of course, it is perfectly possible to hold a relationship-based viewof partiality to special relations while rejecting the claim thatmembership in the same species constitutes the relevant sort ofrelationship—just as many who thinkbeing A’sfriend grounds special obligations toward A might reject the viewthatbelonging to the same ethnic group as A does so as well.(The challenge, as always, is to explain what kinds of relationshipsdo ground obligations, and which do not. (Kolodny, 2010a) providessome helpful discussion and defends a proposal for where and how todraw the line.) By the same token, a commitment to the idea thatlegitimate special obligations (those to friends, for instance) aregrounded by some version of the individuals view leaves it quite openpreciselywhich qualities of one’s friends do thegrounding, and just how the grounding relation is conditioned by theexistence of the friendship. Merely knowing, then, that someone holdsthe relationship view, the individuals view, etc, does notinitself tell us much about whether they endorse obligations tonon-humans. Still, their ultimate view on that matter, whatever itmight be, will inevitably be influenced by their position regardingthe nature and grounding of special obligations and other forms ofpartiality. The of justifying partiality toward intimates andrelatives, then, is by no means an abstract or inconsequential one, asour views on such matters bear on such larger questions as who getsincluded in, and who ends up excluded from, the community of moralconsiderability.

6.2 The Partialist-Impartialist Debate

Although many people continue to speak of a ‘partialist vs.impartialist debate,’ it should by now be clear that neither‘partialism’ nor ‘impartialism’ unambiguouslydenote any single moral position; at best, they designate two poles ofa continuum, one of which attributes no moral significance to thedemands of (any sort of) impartiality, the other of which seesmorality as exhausted by (some version of) impartiality. While asomewhat general distinction can be usefully maintained, it ismisleading to think of the partialist-impartialist debate as a disputebetween two clearly defined, and clearly opposed, camps (Deigh 1991;Barry 1995, 191–5). Maximilian de Gaynesford goes so far as toargue that “debates about partialism and impartialism thrive ontacit assumptions about the way each relates to the first person.These assumptions rest on mistakes and confusions …” (deGaynesford 2010).

Thus, any general claim beginning with the words ‘partialists(or impartialists) think that…’ is bound to be bothmisleading and contentious. In particular, there is good reason to bewary of objections to impartialism which claim that all impartialistsendorse extreme moral demands, or that they require that practicalreasoning be completely expunged of every vestige of the partial. Itis true, of course, that at least some impartialists, such as Godwin,have endorsed such claims. But many do not. Deontologists, as we haveseen, hold impartiality to be a deep and significant element ofmorality, but they also tend to allow for a considerable degree offirst-order partiality. And even many consequentialists are preparedto admit the legitimacy of partial reasoning in some contexts, if onlyon an instrumental basis. It is useful, then, to draw a distinctionbetween two sorts of impartialist moral theory. Impartialist theorieswhich require all agents to display first-order impartiality at alltimes (Godwin’s, for example) might be referred to asstrictimpartialist theories. Impartialist theories which allow for somefirst-order partiality, but which nevertheless insist that all suchbehavior be justified in second-order impartialist terms, might bereferred to asfundamentally impartialist moral theories. Theclass of fundamentally impartial theories will include not onlycontractualist, Kantian, and rule consequentialist theories, but alsocertain act consequentialist theories (e.g. Railton 1986) which allowthe practice of first-order partiality as a means of promoting theimpersonal good. Such theories allow for partiality that ispermissible, justifiable, and perhaps even admirable in moral terms.At the same time, however, they insist that all such partiality isultimately reducible – that is, justifiable in impartialistterms at some deeper level.

Within the partialist camp, astrict partialist might bedefined as holding that no sort of impartiality plays any moral rolewhatsoever – a logically possible, but uncommon, position. Amoderate partialist, by contrast, would admit thatimpartiality of some sort plays a moral role, but deny that this roleencompasses, or grounds, all of morality; in particular, such a figurewould be committed to the existence, in some contexts at least, ofirreducible morally admirable partiality. A virtue theorist, forinstance, might make a significant place for impartiality by selectingit as one of the virtues; but a virtue of this sort would presumablyhave to compete with other deeply partialist virtues such as loyalty,which would override impartiality in at least some contexts.

To the extent that a deep issue between partialists and impartialistscan be identified, it is presumably the question of whether(irreducible) morally admirable partiality does indeed exist; and itis along this line of dispute that the debate seems likeliest tocontinue. (Whether this debate is identical to the so-called‘justice-care’ debate, as contended in Cannold,etal (1995), is questionable, though it is undeniable that thereare important parallels.) However, this way of classifying thedisputants, and of characterizing the issue itself, is meant to besuggestive rather than definitive. The fact remains that there aremany types of partialist theories, and many types of impartialistones, and that continuing to speak of the‘partialist-impartialist debate’ in loose and impreciseterms is more likely to obscure than to illuminate.

7. Epistemic partiality and impartiality

Commonsense morality agrees with most deontological theories thatpersonal relationships involve various forms of morally admirablepartiality. Until now most philosophers who have examined thisphenomenon have focused on practical obligations: the ways in which weare obligated to treat our friends and relatives better than we treatpeople whom we do not know and to whom we are not significantlyrelated. Disagreements regarding the extent and nature of suchpractical obligations have dominated the partialist-impartialistdebate.

Recently, however, a number of philosophers have focused theirattention on a second sort of obligation we seem to have to friendsand relatives. In addition to treating them differently, commonsensethought seems to hold that we ought to adopt different patterns ofbelief formation and evaluation with respect to them – patternsof belief formation and evaluation that make it more likely that wewill think highly of them and regard them in a positive light. Thus,it has been suggested that friendship and similar relationshipsinvolve epistemic partiality: there are forms of epistemic bias whichare recommended and possibly required by such relationships. As SimonKeller has written, “when good friends form beliefs about eachother, they sometimes respond to considerations that have to do withthe needs and interests of their friends, not with aiming at thetruth, and that this is part of what makes them good friends”(Keller 2004, 333).

Similarly, Sarah Stroud has argued that when it is a friend’sbehavior that is in question, rather than that of a stranger,“we tend to devote more energy to defeating or minimizing theimpact of unfavorable data than we otherwise would. … [A]t theend of the day we are simply less likely to conclude that our friendacted disreputably, or that he is a bad person, than we would in thecase of a nonfriend” (Stroud 2006, 505–6).

As both Keller and Stroud point out, these are not simply descriptionsof typical friendship behavior; rather, they seem to be generallyaccepted as requirements of friendship. If so – and if it reallyis true that epistemic partiality makes us less likely to form truebeliefs (but see Jollimore 2011 for a challenge to this claim) –then we seem to face a difficult choice: we must either accept thatforming true beliefs is not the only goal with respect to whichepistemic standards should be evaluated, or else accept that therequirements of friendship and other forms of love can conflict withthe requirements of epistemic rationality: being an ideal epistemicagent, that is, is not always compatible with being an idealfriend.

As always, the issue is complicated by the effects of context. Whetherthey are motivational or epistemic (or some combination of the two),partial biases that are entirely appropriate in some contexts, such asfriendship, will be deeply inappropriate in others, such as the makingof hiring or sentencing decisions. (This assumes, of course, that weare rejecting the consequentialist view that the requirements ofstrict impartiality are pervasive in all aspects of our lives.) Asmentioned above, empirical research on implicit bias strongly suggeststhat even when we recognize that we are acting in the latter sort ofcontext, and believe ourselves to be acting in a thoroughly impartialand unbiased manner, we may well be fooling ourselves. Thus,formulating a correct theoretical understanding of the scope anddemands of partiality and impartiality, as difficult as that task isin itself, may not be sufficient for acting as a truly good orvirtuous agent. The more practical task of training our perceptions,inclinations, and motivations in order to see and respond to theworld, at least where appropriate, in an impartial way – or, ifthis is not possible, then to see and act in ways that take intoaccount and correct for our inherent biases – would also seem tobe necessary.

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