Ethics in Practice

World Hunger and International Justice

merely postpones starvation. If we save the Bengal refugees now, others, perhaps the children of these refugees, will face starvation in a few years' time. In support of this, one may cite the now well-known facts about the population explosion and the relatively limited scope for expanded production.

This point, like the previous one, is an argument against relieving suffering that is happening now, because of a belief about what might happen in the future; it is unlike the previous point in that very good evidence can be adduced in support of this belief about the future. I will not go into the evidence here. I accept that the earth cannot support indefinitely a population rising at the present rate. This certainly poses a problem for anyone who thinks it important to prevent famine. Again, however, one could accept the argument without drawing the conclusion that it absolves one from any obligation to do anything to prevent famine. The conclusion that should be drawn is that the best means of preventing famine, in the long run, is population control. It would then follow from the position reached earlier that one ought to be doing all one can to promote population control (unless one held that all forms of population control were wrong in themselves, or would have significantly bad consequences). Since there are organizations working specifically for population control, one would then support them rather than more orthodox methods of preventing famine.

A third point raised by the conclusion reached earlier relates to the question of just how much we all ought to be giving away. One possibility, which has already been mentioned, is that we ought to give until we reach the level of marginal utility - that is, the level at which, by giving more, I would cause as much suffering to myself or my dependants as I would relieve by my gift. This would mean, of course, that one would reduce oneself to very near the material circumstances of a Bengali refugee. It will be recalled that earlier I put forward both a strong and a moderate version of the principle of preventing bad occurrences. The strong version, which required us to prevent bad things from happening unless in doing so we would be sacrificing something of comparable moral significance, does

seem to require reducing ourselves to the level of marginal utility. I should also say that the strong version seems to me to be the correct one. I proposed the more moderate version - that we should prevent bad occurrences unless, to do so, we had to sacrifice something morally significant - only in order to show that, even on this surely undeniable principle, a great change in our way of life is required. On the more moderate principle, it may not follow that we ought to reduce ourselves to the level of marginal utility, for one might hold that to reduce oneself and one's family to this level is to cause something significantly bad to happen. Whether this is so I shall not discuss, since, as I have said, I can see no good reason for holding the moderate version of the principle rather than the strong version. Even if we accepted the principle only in its moderate form, however, it should be clear that we would have to give away enough to ensure that the consumer society, dependent as it is on people spending on trivia rather than giving to famine relief, would slow down and perhaps disappear entirely. There are several reasons why this would be desirable in itself. The value and necessity of economic growth are now being questioned not only by conservationists, but by economists as well. 5 There is no doubt, too, that the consumer society has had a distorting effect on the goals and purposes of its members. Yet looking at the matter purely from the point of view of overseas aid, there must be a limit to the extent to which we should deliberately slow down our economy; for it might be the case that if we gave away, say, 40 percent of our Gross National Product, we would slow down the economy so much that in absolute terms we would be giving less than if we gave 25 percent of the much larger GNP that we would have if we limited our contribution to this smaller percentage.

I mention this only as an indication of the sort of factor that one would have to take into account in working out an ideal. Since Western societies generally consider I percent of the GNP an acceptable level for overseas aid, the matter is entirely academic. Nor does it affect the question of how much an individual should give in a society in which very few are giving substantial amounts.

It is sometimes said, though less often now than it used to be, that philosophers have no special role to play in public affairs, since most public issues depend primarily on an assessment of facts. On questions of fact, it is said, philosophers as such have no special expertise, and so it has been possible to engage in philosophy without committing oneself to any position on major public issues. No doubt there are some issues of social policy and foreign policy about which it can truly be said that a really expert assessment of the facts is required before taking sides or acting, but the issue of famine is surely not one of these. The facts about the existence of suffering are beyond dispute. Nor, I think, is it disputed that we can do something about it, either through orthodox methods of famine relief or through population control or both. This is therefore an issue on which philosophers are competent to take a position. The issue is one which faces everyone who has more money than he needs to support himself and his dependants, or who is in a position to take some sort of political action. These categories must include practically every teacher and student of philosophy in the universities of the Western world. If philosophy is to deal with matters that are relevant to both teachers and students, this is an issue that philosophers should discuss.

Discussion, though, is not enough. What is the point of relating philosophy to public (and personal) affairs if we do not take our conclusions seriously? In this instance, taking our conclusion seriously means acting upon it. The philosopher will not find it any easier than anyone else to alter his attitudes and way oflife to the extent that, if! am right, is involved in doing everything that we ought to be doing. At the very least, though, one can make a start. The philosopher who does so will have to sacrifice some of the benefits of the consumer society, but he can find compensation in the satisfaction of a way oflife in which theory and practice, if not yet in harmony, are at least coming together.

Postscript

The crisis in Bangladesh that spurred me to write the above article is now of historical

Famine, Affluence, and Morality

interest only, but the world food crisis is, if anything, still more serious. The huge grain reserves that were then held by the United States have vanished. Increased oil prices have made both fertilizer and energy more expensive in developing countries, and have made it difficult for them to produce more food. At the same time, their population has continued to grow. Fortunately, as I write now, there is no major famine anywhere in the world; but poor people are still starving in several countries, and malnutrition remains very widespread. The need for assistance is, therefore, just as great as when I first wrote, and we can be sure that without it there will, again, be major famines.

The contrast between poverty and affluence that I wrote about is also as great as it was then. True, the affluent nations have experienced a recession, and are perhaps not as prosperous as they were in 1971. But the poorer nations have suffered as least as much from the recession, in reduced government aid (because if governments decide to reduce expenditure, they regard foreign aid as one of the expendable items, ahead of, for instance, defense or public construction projects) and in increased prices for goods and materials they need to buy. In any case, compared with the difference between the affluent nations and the poor nations, the whole recession was trifling; the poorest in the affluent nations remained incomparably better off than the poorest in the poor nations.

So the case for aid, on both a personal and a governmental level, remains as great now as it was in 1971, and I would not wish to change the basic argument that I put forward then.

There are, however, some matters of emphasis that I might put differently if I were to rewrite the article, and the most important of these concerns the population problem. I still think that, as I wrote then, the view that famine relief merely postpones starvation unless something is done to check population growth is not an argument against aid, it is only an argument against the type of aid that should be given. Those who hold this view have the same obligation to give to prevent starvation as those who

World Hunger and International Justice

do not; the difference is that they regard assisting population control schemes as a more effective way of preventing starvation in the long run. I would now, however, have given greater space to the discussion of the population problem; for I now think that there is a serious case for saying that if a country refuses to take any steps to slow the rate of its population growth, we should not give it aid. This is, of course, a very drastic step to take, and the choice it represents is a horrible choice to have to make; but if, after a dispassionate analysis of all the available information, we come to the conclusion that without population control we will not, in the long run, be able to prevent famine or other catastrophes, then it may be more humane in the long run to aid those countries that are prepared to take strong measures to reduce population growth, and to use our aid policy as a means of pressuring other countries to take similar steps.

It may be objected that such a policy involves an attempt to coerce a sovereign nation. But since we are not under an obligation to give aid unless that aid is likely to be effective in reducing starvation or malnutrition, we are not under an obligation to give aid to countries that make no effort to reduce a rate of population growth that will lead to catastrophe. Since we do not force any nation to accept our aid, simply making it clear that we will not give aid where it is not going to be effective cannot properly be regarded as a form of coercIOn.

I should also make it clear that the kind of aid that will slow population growth is not just assistance with the setting up of facilities for dispensing contraceptives and performing sterilizations. It is also necessary to create the conditions under which people do not wish to have so many children. This will involve, among other things, providing greater economic security for people, particularly in their old age, so that they do not need the security of a large family to provide for them. Thus, the requirements of aid designed to reduce population growth and aid designed to eliminate starvation are by no means separate; they overlap, and the latter will often be a means to the former. The obligation of the affluent is, I believe, to

do both. Fortunately, there are now many people in the foreign aid field, including those in the private agencies, who are aware of this.

One other matter that I should now put forward slightly differently is that my argument does, of course, apply to assistance with development, particularly agricultural development, as well as to direct famine relief. Indeed, I think the former is usually the better long-term investment. Although this was my view when I wrote the article, the fact that I started from a famine situation, where the need was for immediate food, has led some readers to suppose that the argument is only about giving food and not about other types of aid. This is quite mistaken, and my view is that the aid should be of whatever type is most effective.

On a more philosophical level, there has been some discussion of the original article which has been helpful in clarifying the issues and pointing to the areas in which more work on the argument is needed. In particular, as John Arthur has shown in "Famine Relief and the Ideal Moral Code" (included in this volume), something more needs to be said about the notion of "moral significance." The problem is that to give an account of this notion involves nothing less than a full-fledged ethical theory; and while I am myself inclined toward a utilitarian view, it was my aim in writing "Famine, Affluence, and Morality" to produce an argument which would appeal not only to utilitarians, but also to anyone who accepted the initial premises of the argument, which seemed to me likely to have a very wide acceptance. So I tried to get around the need to produce a complete ethical theory by allowing my readers to fill in their own version - within limits - of what is morally significant, and then see what the moral consequences are. This tactic works reasonably well with those who are prepared to agree that such matters as being fashionably dressed are not really of moral significance; but Arthur is right to say that people could take the opposite view without being obviously irrational. Hence, I do not accept Arthur's claim that the weak principle implies little or no duty of benevolence, for it will imply a significant duty of benevolence for those who

admit, as I think most nonphilosophers and even off-guard philosophers will admit, that they spend considerable sums on items that by their own standards are of no moral significance. But I do agree that the weak principle is nonetheless too weak, because it makes it too easy for the duty of benevolence to be avoided.

On the other hand, I think the strong principle will stand, whether the notion of moral significance is developed along utilitarian lines, or once again left to the individual reader's own sincere judgment. In either case, I would argue against Arthur's view that we are morally entitled to give greater weight to our own interests and purposes simply because they are our own. This view seems to me contrary to the idea, now widely shared by moral philosophers, that some element of impartiality or universalizability is inherent in the very notion of a moral judgment. (For a discussion of the different formulations of this idea, and an indication of the extent to which they are in agreement, see R. M. Hare, "Rules of War and Moral Reasoning," Philosophy and Public Affairs 1, no. 2, 1972.) Granted, in normal circumstances, it may be better for everyone if we recognize that each of us will be primarily responsible for running our own lives and only secondarily responsible for others. This, however, is not a moral ultimate, but a secondary principle that derives from consideration of how a society may best order its affairs, given the limits of altruism in human beings. Such secondary principles are, I think, swept aside by the extreme evil of people starving to death.

Famine, Affluence, and Morality

Notes

There was also a third possibility: that India would go to war to enable the refugees to return to their lands. Since I wrote this essay, India has taken this way out. The situation is no longer that described above, but this does not affect my argument, as the next paragraph indicates.

2In view of the special sense philosophers often give to the term, I should say that I use "obligation" simply as the abstract noun derived from "ought," so that "I have an obligation to" means no more, and no less, than "I ought to." This usage is in accordance with the definition of "ought" given by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary: "the general verb to express duty or obligation." I do not think any issue of substance hangs on the way the term is used; sentences in which I use "obligation" could all be rewritten, although somewhat clumsily, as sentences in which a clause containing "ought" replaces the term "obligation."

3J. O. Urmson, "Saints and Heroes," in Essays in Moral Philosophy, ed. Abraham I. Melden (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1958), p.

214. For a related but significantly different view see also Henry Sidgwick, The Methods of Ethics, 7th edn (London: Dover Press, 1907), pp. 220-1, 492-3.

4Summa Theologica, II-II, Question 66, Article 7, in Aquinas, Selected Political Writings, ed. A. P. d'Entreves, trans. J. G. Dawson (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1948), p. 171.

5See, for instance, John Kenneth Galbraith, The New Industrial State (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1967); and E. J. Mishan, The Costs of Economic Growth (New York: Praeger, 1967).

John Arthur

Introduction

What do those of us who are relatively affluent owe, from a moral standpoint, to those who are hungry, sick, and may die without assistance? Peter Singer claims that we ought to prevent evil whenever we can do so without sacrificing something of comparable moral significance. In doing so, he argues there is a duty to provide aid whenever others are in greater need and will suffer without our help.l Other philosophers, relying on the principle that all human life is of equal value, have reached similar conclusions. 2 My first concern, then, is to assess such arguments on their own terms, asking whether these argument do, in fact, establish a duty to give aid. I will argue, in response, that our moral "intuitions" include not only the commitments they emphasize, but also entitlements, which suggests that people who deserve or have rights to their earnings may be allowed to keep them.

But the fact that our accepted social moral code includes entitlements is not a complete answer, for it is possible that contemporary moral attitudes are mistaken and our current code is defective. So in the final sections I ask whether an "ideal" moral code would reject entitlements and desert in favor of Singer's principle, arguing that in fact it would not.

A Duty to Prevent Evil?

Some have argued that the ideal of treating people equally requires that we do much more to aid others than is usually supposed. Richard Watson, for example, emphasizes what he calls the "principle of equity." Since "all human life is of equal value," and difference in treatment should be "based on freely chosen actions and not accidents of birth or environment," he thinks that we have "equal rights to the necessities of life.,,3 To distribute food unequally assumes that some lives are worth more than others, an assumption which, he says, we do not accept. Watson claims the "equity principle" should not be violated even to stop out annihilation.

Is Watson correct that all life is of equal value? Did Adolph Hitler and Martin Luther King, for example, lead equally valuable lives? Clearly one did far more good, the other far more harm; and who would deny that while King fought for people's rights, Hitler violated them on a massive scale? Nor are moral virtues like courage, kindness, and trustworthiness equally distributed among people. So there are many important senses in which people are not, in fact, morally equal: some lives are more valuable to others, and some people are just, generous and courageous while others are unjust, cheap, and cowardly.

Yet all the same the ideal of equality is often thought to be a cornerstone of morality and justice. But what does it mean to say all people are "equal?" It seems to me that we might have in mind one of two things. First is an idea that Thomas Jefferson expressed in the Declaration of Independence. "All men are created equal" meant, for him, that no man is the moral inferior of another, that, in other words, there are certain rights which all men share equally, including life and liberty. We are entitled to pursue our own lives without interference from others, just as no person is the natural slave of another. But, as Jefferson also knew, equality in that sense does not require equal distribution of the necessities of life, only that we not interfere with one another, allowing instead every person the liberty to pursue his own affairs, so long as he does not violate the rights of others.

Some people, however, have something different in mind when they speak of human equality. To develop this second idea, we will turn to Singer's argument in "Famine, Affluence, and Morality." In that essay, Singer argues that two general moral principles are widely accepted, and then that those principles imply an obligation to eliminate starvation.

The first of the two principles he thinks we accept is that "suffering and death from lack of food, shelter and medical care are bad." Some may be inclined to think that the mere existence of such an evil in itself places an obligation on others, but that is, of course, the problem which Singer addresses. I take it that he is not begging the question in this obvious way and will argue from the existence of evil to the obligation of others to eliminate it. But how, exactly, does he establish this? He claims the greater moral evil principle shows the connection. That principle states that:

If it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, we ought, morally, to do it.,,4

In other words, people are entitled to keep their earnings only if there is no way for them to prevent a greater evil by giving them away. Providing others with food, clothing, and hous-

Famine Relief and the Ideal Moral Code

ing would generally be of more importance than buying luxuries, so the greater moral evil principle now requires substantial redistribution of wealth.

Certainly few of us live by that principle, although as Singer emphasizes that hardly shows we are justified in behaving that way. We often fail to live up to our own standards. Why does Singer think our shared morality requires that we follow the greater moral evil principle?

He begins with an analogy. Suppose you came across a child drowning in a shallow pond. Certainly we feel it would be wrong not to help. Even if saving a child meant we must dirty our clothes, we would emphasize that those clothes are not of comparable significance to the child's life. The greater moral evil principle thus seems a natural way of capturing why we think it would be wrong not to help.

But the argument for the greater moral evil principle is not limited to Singer's claim that it explains our feelings about the drowning child or that it appears "uncontroversial." Moral equality also enters the picture, in the following way.s Besides the Jeffersonian idea that we share certain rights equally, most of us are also attracted to another conception of equality, namely that like amounts of suffering (or happiness) are of equal significance, no matter who is experiencing them. I cannot reasonably say that, while my pain is no more severe than yours, I am somehow special and it's more objectively important that mine be alleviated.

But if we fail to give to famine relief and instead purchase a new car when the old one will do, or buy fancy clothes for a friend when his or her old ones are perfectly good, are we not assuming that the relatively minor enjoyment we or our friends may get is as important as another person's life? And that, it seems, is a form of prejudice; we are acting as if people were not equal in the sense that their interests deserve equal consideration. Weare giving special consideration to ourselves or to our group, rather like a racist does. Equal consideration of interests thus leads naturally to the greater moral evil principle.

World Hunger and International Justice

Entitlements

Equal consideration seems to require that we should prevent harm to others if in doing so we do not sacrifice anything of comparable moral importance. But there is also another idea which Singer ignores: the idea of entitlements - that I have rights or may justly deserving something - and these are also morally significant. For example, we could help others is by giving away body parts. While your life may be shortened by the loss of a kidney or less enjoyable if lived with only one eye, those costs are probably not comparable to the loss experienced by a person who will die without any kidney or who is totally blind. Or perhaps somebody needs to remain hooked up to you for an extended period of time while awaiting a transplant. 6 However, our code does not require such heroism; you are entitled to your second eye and kidney and to control who uses your body, and that entitlement blocks the inference from the fact you could prevent harm to the conclusion you ought to let others have or use your body.

We express these ideas in terms of rights; it's your body, you have a right to it, and that weighs against whatever duty you have to help. To give up your right to your kidney for a stranger is more than not required, it is heroic. Unless, of course, you have agreed to let the person use your body, which brings us to the next point.

There are two types of rights, negative and positive. Negative rights are rights against interference by others. The right to life, for example, is a right not to be killed by others; the right against assault is a right not to be physically harmed by others. Other negative rights include the right to one's body, to property, to privacy, and to religious freedom. These require only that others not interfere. Positive rights, however, are rights to receive some benefit. I agree to work for Jones. If Jones does then not pay me, then my right to receive a paycheck has been violated.

Negative rights are also natural or human, that is, they depend on what you are, not what you've done. For instance, all persons have the

right to life. But any positive rights you have are not natural in this sense. They arise because others have promised, agreed, or contracted to do something for you. Consequently, the right not to be killed does not depend on anything you or anybody else has done; however, the right to be paid a wage arises only from prior agreements.

None of that is to say that rights, whether negative or positive, are beyond controversy. Rights come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and people often disagree about both their shape and size. And while some rights are part of our generally shared moral code and widely accepted, others are controversial and hotly disputed

Normally, then, we seem to think that a duty to help strangers in need is not based on any right that person has, but rather on the general duty all people have to aid those in need. The person would have a right to aid only if someone had contracted or promised to protect the child, for instance, a baby sitter or lifeguard who had agreed to care for the child. If the child is harmed, then the parent would be doubly wronged. First, the sitter, like everybody else, should not cruelly or thoughtlessly let it drown. Second, unlike in Singer's example, the sitter has also violated the child's rights since the sitter promised to care for the child, and hence, assumed special obligations.

In deciding what to do, we must consider moral rights. Unfortunately, the greater moral evil principle ignores them. But that is not all we need consider, for our moral code expects us to help people in need as well as to respect negative and positive rights. My claim here is simply that we are sometimes entitled to invoke our own rights to justify our inaction. It we did not promise to help, and are in no way responsible for the person's situation, then we need not ignore our own rights and give away our savings to help distant strangers.

A second form of entitlement are "just deserts": sometimes people deserve to keep what they have acquired. Suppose an industrious farmer works hard and produces a surplus of food for the winter while a lazy neighbor spends the summer relaxing. Must our hard working farmer give the surplus away because

that neighbor, who refused to work, will suffer? In some circumstances our normal moral attitudes would direct the farmer to help - but not necessarily. We must consider not only suffering and rights, but also just deserts. And even if the farmer's just desert is outweighed in some cases by the greater need of a neighbor, being outweighed is not the same as weighing nothing!

Just deserts can be negative (unwanted) as we well as positive (desired). Nazi war criminals deserved punishment. In some cases other considerations - the fact that nobody will be deterred or that the criminal is old and harmless - might weigh against punishin'g them. However, that does not mean that just deserts are irrelevant, just that we've decided for other reasons to ignore them in this case. But again: a principle's being outweighed is not the same as its having no importance.

Our social moral code thus honors both the greater moral evil principle and entitlements. The former emphasizes equality, that comparable suffering is equally significant. It encourages us to impartially discern all the effects of our actions, to be forward looking. Entitlements, though, direct our attention to the past. Whether we have rights to money, property, or even our body depends on how we came to possess them. A thief may possess the money he has stolen, but that does not give him a right to it. Or perhaps a person has promised to trade something, which would again (under normal circumstances) mean loss of entitlement. Like rights, just desert is also backward-looking, emphasizing past effort or past transgressions that now warrant responses such as reward, gratitude, or punishment.

I am suggesting, then, that in acknowledging both equality and entitlements as well as the importance of preventing harm to others our social moral code pulls in different directions. But unless we are moral relativists, the mere fact that equality and entitlements are both part of our moral code does not in itself justify a person who relies on them, any more than the fact that our moral code once condemned racial mixing while condoning sexual discrimination and slavery should convince us that those principles are justified. We all assume (I trust) that

Famine Relief and the Ideal Moral Code

the more enlightened moral code - the one we now subscribe to - is better in part just because it condemns discrimination and slavery. Because we know the rules defining acceptable behavior are continually changing, and sometimes changing for the better, we must allow for the replacement of inferior principles with more reasonable guidelines (and must also allow the possibility that our current moral views are mistaken).

Viewed in this way, Singer is urging us to reform our current social moral code - to reject entitlements, at least when they conflict with the greater moral evil principle. He is claiming that we cannot justify our practice of evaluating actions by looking backward to rights and just desert, rather than looking forward to the consequences of our action. Consequently, we should ask how we might justify the moral rules and principles comprising a society's moral code. Then we can determine whether entitlements are part of an ideal moral code.

The Concept of a Social Moral Code

I suggest that we understand a social moral code as a system of principles, rules and other standards designed to guide people's conduct. It is akin to other systems of rules and standards, like the rules of organizations. Social clubs, sports leagues, corporations, bureaucracies, professional associations, even The Organization all have standards governing the behavior of members. These rules also serve a purpose, though their functions will vary depending on the nature of the organization. Sanctions will also vary: violation of a university's code of conduct leads to one sort of punishment, while social clubs or the American Bar Association may impose different sanctions. And while some standards of conduct are limited to members of an organization, others, like law, etiquette and customs apply more broadly.

Let's look at these issues more closely, comparing morality with other rule-governed practices like law and etiquette. First, as I suggested, the form sanctions take vary among the different types of social practices? While in our legal system transgressions are punished by

World Hunger and International Justice

fines, jail, or even execution, we encourage conformity to morality and etiquette through informal sanctions like praise, criticism, and ostracism. Moreover, while violation of a moral principle is always a serious affair, this is not necessarily so for violations of law, etiquette, or custom. Many of us think it unimportant whether a fork is on the left side of a plate or whether an outmoded and widely ignored Sunday closing law is violated. But we do not think that someone's violating a moral principle is trivial. Indeed, when moral principles lose their importance, they are "demoted" to mere custom.

Third, legal rules differ from morality, custom, and etiquette in that they include "constitutional" rules governing how laws are to be created, modified and eliminated.s Under the US Constitution, for instance, if Congress acts to change the tax laws, then the rules are effective as of the date stated in the statute. Socially accepted moral rules, etiquette, and customs may also change, of course, but not according to any specified procedure.

So far, then, we've noted that different codes and standards of behavior can vary widely, along a number of dimensions. Some apply narrowly, only to members of a specific organization, while others extend broadly. And while all codes include rules or other standards to guide conduct, the sanctions that are imposed by different codes differ widely, as do the ways rules change and the importance assigned to violations of the different codes.

Finally, standards and norms serve a purpose, although their purposes will vary with the organization or practice in question. Rules governing games, for example, are often changed, either informally among players or by a governing organization like the National Football League. This is done to more effectively achieve the game's goals, although even the goals are sometimes open to dispute. Sometimes, for example, rules may be changed to improve safety (car design in auto racing) but at other times the changes may represent at attempt to make the sport less safe - but more exciting, or again, rules might be changed to accommodate younger players, such as abolishing the walk in kid's baseball.

Rules of games and organizations, like legal and moral rules and principles, can change to serve their purposes more effectively. However - and this is crucial - since there can be deep disagreement about the purposes of these practices, people may disagree about the rules: about what the rules require, about when there should be exceptions and about when the rules can be ignored. Disputes about rules governing a social group, for instance, may rest on deeper, sometimes hidden disagreements about the purposes of the organization, just as differences between fundamentalists and liberals over religious rules and principles can reveal disagreements about the purposes of religious practices.

This is crucial for understanding disagreements about morality. Consider the moral rule that forbids homosexual behavior. If people could agree that the rule serves no useful purpose, but only increases the guilt, shame, and social rejection borne by a significant portion of society, then we would have good reason to abandon this rule condemning homosexuality. However, others may think morality serves to encourage behavior compatible with God's will or with "natural" law. These people would likely oppose such a change and regard their attitudes toward homosexuality as warranted.

So I am suggesting that there is a connection between what we ought to do and how well a code serves its purposes. If we agree about the purpose of a practice, then we will have reason to follow any rule that serves the goals of that practice. Conversely, if a rule frustrates the purposes of an institution or practice, we should not support it, teach it, or to follow it. Applying this to morality, I can now state a conception of a right action: Any action is right if and only if it conforms with an ideal moral code for our society. Before we say precisely what this requires, we must consider what, exactly, an ideal moral code is. That requires knowing what we hope to accomplish by creating, teaching and enforcing a social moral code.

The Ideal Social Moral Code

One possibility, already mentioned, is that morality's purpose depends on God - that morality

serves to encourage people to act in accord with God's will. However, I will suggest, and briefly defend, the view that the ideal moral code is the one that, when recognized and taught by members of society, would have the best consequences. By best consequences, I mean that it would most effectively promote the collective well-being of those living under it. (It's worth noting that a religious person need not reject this conception. She might reason that God would want to promote the general well-being.)

This idea - that the code serves the purpose of promoting well-being - seems central to both law and morality. Both discourage many of the same acts - killing, robbing, and beating - while encouraging other actions - repaying debts, keeping important agreements, and providing for one's children. The reason for rules discouraging killing and assault are clear enough; a society without such rules could not survive let alone provide a valuable life for its members. This approach is further substantiated when we think about the ways children are taught it is wrong to hit a baby brother or sister. Parents typically explain the rules in terms of their purposes: hitting brother hurts him. In short, these rules of morality and law function to keep people from unjustifiably harming one another, and ultimately to promote the well-being of people living under them. That is why we teach these rules to children, and why we follow them as adults.

Likewise for the rules encouraging certain behavior. The well-being of ourselves, our friends, our family, and indeed, our society depends on people generally keeping promises and fulfilling their agreements. Without laws and moral rules to encourage this behavior, the institutions of promising and contracting would likely be unsustainable, and without those institutions, we would be much worse-off.

Moral rules thus promote our welfare by discouraging acts of violence and other damaging behavior and by creating and maintaining valuable social conventions. They also perform the same service for our family, friends, and indeed all of us. A sjociety wholly without legal and moral codes would likely deteriorate into a Hobbesian state of nature in which life is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short."

Famine Relief and the Ideal Moral Code

Many people will find this uncontroversial, thinking that they have reason to support and follow a moral code that promotes the general welfare. But what more might be said to those who remain skeptical? One suggestion, from David Hume, emphasizes the importance of sentiment and feeling in human actions. Hume claimed humans can be moved to act only by feelings and sentiment. On this view people are moral because human nature is not simply selfish, but also exhibits a sentimental attachment to the well-being of others. This is apparent, he reasoned, from the fact that we

frequently bestow praise on virtuous actions, performed in very distant ages and remote countries; where the utmost subtlety of imagination would not discover any appearance of self-interest, or find any connexion with our present happiness and security with events so widely separated from us. 9

Hume's claim makes sense. We have evidence that sympathy and concern for others' wellbeing are a natural part of our biological heritage. Some biologists, for example, think altruism encourages the survival of many higher animals. 1O Other biologists claim we acquire the sentiments through learning. Benevolence originates naturally, via classical conditioning: we first experience our own pain, and then associate it with the pain of others. II

But whatever the explanation for sympathy, Hume concludes from this that we must renounce any moral theory "which accounts for every moral sentiment by the principle of selflove. We must adopt a more public affection, and allow, that the interests of society are not, even on their own account, indifferent to us. ,,12 Moral approval and condemnation, Hume is claiming, rest finally on sentiments rather than reason, and our sentiments lead us to be concerned not merely with our own happiness, but the happiness of all humanity. Given this universal sympathy for others, he concludes that it is natural to understand a social moral code as promoting everybody's well-being.

But suppose that some people do not share these sympathies for others. Such an egoist might claim that the best code would be one