Journal of Applied Philosophy, Vol.10, No.

2, 1993

On Applying Moral Theories

HUGH UPTON

ABSTRACT This paper takes issue with the idea that there is a variety of moral theories available
which can in some way usefully be applied to problems in ethics. The idea is rejected in the comnwn
view that those favouring a systematic approach would do well to abandon consequentialist
thinking and turn to some alternative theoy. I t is argued here that this is not an option, since each of
the usual supposed alternatives lacks the independent resources to meet the minimal requirementsof
being a moral theoy at all. The aim is to demonstrate that virtue ethics, rights theory and
deontology lack the different forms of explanation that would make them genuinely alternative
theories. The conclusion is that this part of ethics is much more of a unity than is standardly assumed
and that, far from our being able to move on from consequentialism, certain problems that arise
from its v e y nature are bound to remain central to any attempt at moral theoy.

One task that has seemed to many to be proper to philosophy is that of producing a
systematic account of our ordinary moral thinking. The task has its own interest, of course.
One might attempt to analyse ‘I ought to do x’ in the same spirit as analysing our everyday
use of epistemological expressions like ‘I know that p’. Yet there may also be a practical aim
where moral philosophy is concerned, for there is the hope that a systematic understanding
of morality will at least clarify the dilemmas that we face and thereby assist in their
resolution. I will assume, as against those who feel this whole approach to be misguided, that
this remains at least a reasonable view. That is, if we are committed to the study of morality
as we find it, there is no a priori reason to suppose that such an account must be attainable,
but nor is there any to show that it is impossible and the enquiry pointless. There may be
more than one extant set of moral views, there may be several that intersect and perhaps
none that is rigorously systematic, but these are possible conclusions, not obvious
assumptions. My concern in this paper is thus with the way we currently think about ethics
on the assumption that this kind of enquiry is to be taken seriously.
When confronted with a moral problem the standard response in this tradition is to
suggest that there are a number of different approaches that can be taken, including
consequentialist, right-based, deontological and, with increasing frequency, that of virtue
ethics. These alternatives are put forward as constituting different theoretical frameworks
in which the problem may usefully be placed. Some have added that while consequentialism
has been the dominant influence in recent years, the best hope for success lies in abandoning
it in favour of one of the others. It will be argued here, on the contrary, that this is in no way a
promising move since, in so far as they are theories, the others are not genuine alternatives at
all. That is, while it is often thought that, whatever their failings, they at least provide
theories that correct the characteristic errors of consequentialism, this is actually not so.
What they provide, in effect, are unsupported assertions that run contrary to consequential-

@ Society for Applied Philosophy, 1993, Blackwell Publishers, 108 Cowley Road, Oxford, OX4 1 JF, UK and 3 Cambridge
Center, Cambridge, MA 02142, USA.
190 Hugh Upton

ism, not theories that explain wherein the errors of the latter lie. Nor do they seem to have
any resources distinct from consequentialism for doing so. Indeed, those elements that do
genuinely distinguish them from consequentialism are not such as to enable them to meet
certain fairly modest requirements for being a moral theory at all.

I
What is it then that we expect a moral theory to achieve? Minimally, it would seem, two
things. Firstly, since our problems are practical, it must surely say something about which
actions are right. Such a requirement is not meant to prejudge what is basic to morality, nor
to suggest that actions are the only things susceptible to moral judgement, but only that this
must be included in the account. Secondly, it should as far as possible explain, in the sense of
helping to make intelligible, our evaluation of actions, telling us something of what gives
actions moral worth and in what way they are made right or wrong. This second condition
will be important in what follows. It does not, of course, require that everything be
explained. (To make a familiar point, we doubtless cannot explain why it is wrong, ceteris
pun’bus, to cause suffering rather than refrain from so doing.) The requirement is simply
that in so far as we theorise about moral judgements, the theory should do some explaining,
though obviously only of those judgements held not to be morally self-evident. Further,
different theories should offer different explanations, even if they take some of the same
judgements to be self-evident. As to the kind of explanation, the idea of rendering
judgements intelligible is stressed in order to contrast this with certain other questions of
explanation, such as those relating to the idea of moral realism. That is, even if we believed
there to be irreducibly moral entities or properties that in some sense explain our
judgements, we would surely still require that moral reasons for action were intelligible to us
as such, that we could understand not only the ontological basis of moral judgements but
also understand, in terms of our nature or interests, why some given action was held to be
right or wrong. Unless we have this kind of explanation, I suggest, we could hardly be
warranted in talking of a ‘moral theory’ at all.
Utilitarianism, of course, is the obvious example of this kind of theory. However, its
shortcomings are well-known and widely held to rule it out as a genuine option for us, and
my intention is certainly not to try to defend it. The aim here is rather to reject the idea that
there are alternatives that equally merit the name ‘moral theory’. It is to suggest that some of
the deep problems of utilitarianism are problems not so much for consequentialism as for
moral theory generally, such that none of the allegedly alternative theories seems even to
have the means to attempt a different, let alone illuminating, theoretical resolution of them;
when surely this is exactly what we have a right to expect from anything put forward as an
alternative moral theory.

I1
One suggestion, increasingly popular recently, is that we should turn to the idea of the
virtues to provide an account of morality. Indeed, some years ago they were proposed by
Philippa Foot as being precisely the way forward when we finally escaped the spell of
utilitarianism and of consequentialism generally [I]. It is important, though, to be clear

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about what kind of move this would be, and in particular about whether the virtues have the
resources to produce an account of morality of the kind under consideration here [2]. For
example, can they meet the requirement for an explanation of the rightness or wrongness of
an action, and can they do so in a way that is genuinely distinct from consequentialism?
If we were wondering why an action was right it would not help much to be told that its
performance was the exercise of a virtue. At the very least this would incline us to ask what it
achieved or what good it promoted. This, of course, is no criticism of virtue theory. It is
natural enough that to be informative it requires some view of the good, whether this is an
Aristotelian teleology or some substitute with the same function. It does, however, bring us
quickly to a difficulty. The question of establishing which good is to be promoted has always
been a source of problems for utilitarianism, not least because we are reluctant to attach any
moral weight to evil pleasures or preferences. Hence we are bound to question whether it
will be any easier for some other theory. After all, for a theory of the virtues, as for
consequentialism, the idea of the good must first have some independent appeal for us. Only
then will we favour as virtuous those dispositions that promote it, or, in the case of
consequentialism, as right those actions that maximise its production. Yet not only does
there seem no reason to think that the task will be any easier, there seems to be no distinctive
means for the attempt. That is, the idea of worthy dispositions in itself sets no peculiar limits
to the idea of the good; were we not forewarned we might well choose ‘happiness’ and
announce that the virtuous person was one disposed to promote it. More likely, of course, is
an appeal to the notions of ‘the good life’ or ‘human flourishing’, though the problems in
applying such indeterminate conceptions of the good are obvious enough. This indeter-
minacy can be rectified to some extent by reference to the traditional lists of specific virtues,
but the resulting plurality is bound to present us with problems so long as we persist with
our interest in what we ought to do, and this will be so whether it represents a plurality of
goods or merely components of a single good. It is important to note, though, that the mere
fact that problems arise is not the criticism being made here. It is rather that they are in
principle precisely the same problems as those faced by attempts to modify consequential-
ism, either by the attempt to diversify the goal through the inclusion of such awkward items
as rights, or by claiming that the single good of happiness comprises a large number of
components [3]. The general problem here is the same whether we talk of a diversity of
goods or a diversity of good dispositions: how am I to decide on the right action in cases
involving disparate considerations?
Since the nature of the good does not appear to be the source of whatever is theoretically
distinctive in the idea of the virtues the distinctive element must presumably lie in its
concern with the nature of the agent, more specifically with the agent as someone with
dispositions to behave in certain ways. This element, though, is presumably not even
intended to give us an explanation of right action. It certainly seems incapable of providing
one, since far from explaining it the idea of a human behavioural disposition logically
presupposes the idea of action, and the idea of a moral disposition that of a morally desirable
action. This must be so given that a disposition in this context is simply a tendency to
perform certain actions and can only be characterised in terms of those actions. For
example, the concept of a courageous disposition logically depends upon that of particular
acts involving, let us say, the overcoming of fear to achieve some end, since it is precisely its
being a tendency to perform acts of this particular kind that constitutes its distinctive
identity. Similarly, when we consider the question of value the explanatory order is again
from the particular to the general, since it can only be because the particular acts are thought

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morally worthy that we can come to regard the disposition to perform them as being so. If
this is correct, and what is distinctive in virtue theory depends upon our prior identifica-
tion of those particular acts that promote the good or are otherwise morally worthy, it can
hardly give us a distinctive answer to the questions of which of these acts (perhaps a sub-
set of them) are morally right, and why.
It may need making clear here that nothing in the above claimed logical dependency
conflicts with the fact that we sometimes make moral assessments of dispositions indepen-
dently of their leading to any relevant action at that time. The claim concerned the concept
of virtue. Once we have the concept we can certainly assess the value of possessing some
particular virtue in terms of its probable, not necessarily actual, effects on the agent’s
behaviour; but this can only be done against a background of effective, action-producing
occurrences of the disposition, either in this or other agents. In the absence of these we
would have no grounds for regarding it as a disposition at all and nor, therefore, as a good
or bad one. Thus this kind of assessment can never be truly independent of actions.
We should note also that the logical dependency of virtues on actions does not rule out
their primacy in other respects. The claim is one of conceptual analysis, not one about how
we acquire the virtues nor one about their role in a theory of motivation. Thus there need
be no quarrel with Bernard Williams when, in suggesting that dispositions are in one
respect fundamental, he writes: ‘Dispositions are basic because the replication of the
ethical life lies in the replication of dispositions’ [4]. If this concerns the primacy of the
inculcation of dispositions in moral education then its truth is quite consistent with the
conceptual claims regarding their nature made above. Equally these claims are compatible
with the view that human motivation and behaviour must be understood as fundamentally
dispositional in nature, since this view of the order of explanation of our actions is
independent of the logical dependency of the idea of disposition on that of action. For
example, even utilitarianism is compatible with a dispositional account of human be-
haviour, simply ranking those dispositions that explain our actions according to their
probable utility; and the fact that it is my benevolent dispositions that explain my
maximising acts does not alter the fact that the dispositions are only valued because of the
value of the acts that they generate.
If the view of the virtues outlined above is correct then, however significant they may be
for the philosophy of mind or of action [ S ] , they seem to be of little direct importance to
moral theory and certainly not something that we can turn to for a new account of
morality. Firstly, as has been noted, virtue ethics as a whole cannot be independent of a
view of right (or worthy) action. Secondly, what has been assumed to be distinctive about
the virtues, the idea of the behavioural disposition, can tell us nothing about this. Hence,
thirdly, this distinctive element is not tied to the traditional goods of virtue ethics, but in
fact seems to be a natural extension of any theory that says that there is a good to be
achieved or some kind of act to be done or not done. How then can virtue ethics as a whole
truly be seen as a distinctive alternative to consequentialism? Whether traditional or
modified it needs to give an account of what it holds to be good; but then so does the
consequentialist, who no doubt will also be in favour of human flourishing. It proposes
that we should foster characters that are disposed in some way to promote what is good;
but so will (sensible) consequentialists. More interestingly, it will probably tell us that
these dispositions need not be of a maximising nature. But why is this? If I ought, let’s say,
to be benevolent, why am I not required to be very benevolent, as benevolent as possible?
It is not clear that virtue theorists have anything unique to offer on this or other

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consequentialist challenges, and thus not clear that we should agree when enthusiasts for the
virtues tell us that we have concentrated for too long on the rightness of actions and should
instead turn to the goodness of agents.

I11
If virtue ethics cannot help us we might turn instead to right-based theories or to
deontology. Of these, the scope for explanation in terms of rights is usually thought to be
limited at the outset, since (for example) many non-contractual duties of assistance will be
regarded precisely as lacking any basis of right, however beneficial they may be. What is
needed at this point, then, is a reminder of the kind of case thought difficult for
consequentialism and congenial to other theories, the kind that raises problems more likely
to encourage an appeal to rights, or to deontology, as providing the only solution.
Traditionally it is cases of unfairness or injustice that have been used to criticise
utilitarianism, and they may be thought an unavoidable feature of consequentialism as well.
As an example we can take a version of the case considered by R. M. Hare [6]. Let us
suppose that three much-loved and much-needed citizens are in hospital and in urgent need
of three different organ transplant operations. A friendless vagrant wanders into the hospital
for a night’s shelter. Given that it is possible, must not the utilitarian require the secret and
painless killing of the vagrant for the sake of his organs, on the assumption that this will
maximise the total of happiness by saving the much-loved citizens?
This certainly looks like the kind of case that demonstrates our distance from
utilitarianism. Arguably, we might think, some extremity might justify killing an innocent
person, but surely not this. Yet the utilitarian must either accept the judgement while most
cannot, or try to avoid it on the basis of the unlikelihood of the killing ever maximising
probable happiness, appealing in so doing to reasons which, while cogent to the utilitarian,
appear to the rest of us to be at best morally irrelevant and at worst to compound the
enormity. It may be said, for example, that the killing could never be warranted because of
the risk of the deed becoming known and resulting in widespread alarm and despondency,
an outcome highly counter-productive in utilitarian terms. Or because the vagrant might
turn out to have friends after all, with similar unfortunate consequences. The problem, of
course, is that undesirable though these effects may be, most will think that to make the
wrongness of the killing depend on them is to miss the moral point.
Nothing will be added here to the remarks on virtue theory. No doubt the secretive killing
of the friendless for their organs is not a display of virtue, but only because acts of this kind
are wrong, the very claim for which we are seeking a systematic explanation. So the appeal to
virtue is not of fundamental assistance here. Instead we must see whether either a right-
based theory or deontology can improve on consequentialism by providing an explanatory
account of our moral views on such cases.

IV

It might be said that in using the vagrant as proposed we would be violating his rights, above
all his right to life. What would this imply? At least that there was some moral reason for not
killing him, perhaps one that was overriding in this instance. It might concern the

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outweighing of the good to be achieved through his death by the value of his life, where
these two are held to be commensurable, or it could be that his life simply takes
precedence. Whatever the form of explanation embodied in the appeal to rights, though,
it is clear that we need one if rights are to make any fundamental contribution to the
account, rather than simply providing a convenient label to attach to our conclusion
regarding the case. Further, although various functions may contribute to the point of
our talk of rights once it is established, what is needed at this level is specifically
something to explain the wrongness of killing the vagrant in these circumstances. It is
important that it is the wrongness that matters. The consequentialist has something
quite plausible to say regarding the disvalue of the killing, since it will put an end to
experiences that are of some worth. So there is no mystery about there being sume moral
reason against killing the vagrant; what we are seeking is a principled explanation of why
the best moral reason, the one we ought to act on, favours sparing him. Thus the
attribution of the right to life must embody, or in some way make reference to, a good
that is paramount in this and similar cases and show how this primacy is grounded in our
moral thinking.
The two broad options have been mentioned. One is to make use of an idea of human
good or the significance of human life and to try to show that its manifestation in the
vagrant outweighs that in the other three. Here, though, we would have to show by what
standard the right of the one outweighs the claims of the other three, a notoriously difficult
matter [7]. As before, though, what is more important than the degree of difficulty is the
fact that this is just the old consequentialist problem again, and the fact that rights seem to
offer no independent means of solving it. Thus there would be no reason to say that an
answer was a victory for rights rather than consequentialism. The other option, perhaps
more accurately reflecting our moral views, is to say that the vagrant’s right is (in Robert
Nozick’s terms) a side-constraint, a prohibition on our using him which is to be upheld
without reference to its promotion or hindrance of other goals [8]. Unfortunately it has
proved much easier to state this than to ground it in a satisfying theory, it being difficult to
find a good that is substantial enough to stand against other competing goods as a reason
for the wrongness of the killing yet is, in some non-arbitrary way, immune to aggregation
and maximising in its own terms. On the question of competing goods, the problem is the
familiar one that the cost of abiding by the prohibition can usually be made great enough
for many people to waver at some point in their commitment to the prohibition. On the
non-arbitrary immunity, it is clear that even if the right to life is established as of
overriding value against other goods, there remains the problem of why it should not itself
be understood as subject to maximising. To take an example, suppose we defend the right,
in a broadly Nozickian manner, in terms of the need for freedom from interference as a
condition, ultimately, of a meaningful life. What do we then say about the good of
meaningful lives? Specifically, if meaningful lives are a good thing, why not prefer three of
them over one in the case of the vagrant? Until we have a systematic explanation of our
resistance to such suggestions we simply do not have a relevant theory of rights at all, but
only a rejection of the aggregation and maximising of goods.
Perhaps, though, it will be felt that the whole treatment of rights has been too biased
towards a consequentialist outlook, towards the bringing about or preserving of some
good, when rights may actually best be seen as based on a deontological approach to
ethics. For this reason, as well as for its own sake, we must finally look at the prospects for
deontology .

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In common with consequentialism, deontological ethics at least has the merit of directly
addressing the question of right and wrong action. It is often commended for doing this
less intrusively than consequentialism, since (this time in common with rights) it tends to
be limited in scope in that the set of acts and omissions that it requires of us are typically
not such as to occupy the whole of our lives. Of the actions open to us many will be
classified neither as required nor as forbidden but as morally optional. However, it is those
specific acts singled out for injunctions of doing or refraining that should reveal the
particular contribution of deontology to moral theory. An appropriate choice to focus on
here is the best known injunction in deontological ethics, the absolute prohibition on the
intentional killing of the innocent. It is this that will forbid the killing of the vagrant and,
we hope, make the wrongness of such a killing intelligible to us in a way that utilitarianism
does not.
The peculiar contribution of deontology is perhaps best approached by considering a
corollary of its absolutism, namely its characteristic refusal to permit one of the class of
prohibited acts even where this will reduce the overall number of such acts being
performed. This immediately gives us a good idea of what reasons are not at the heart of
the injunction. To take the most obvious, while there is some sense in which deontology
has an interest in the non-occurrence of intentional killings of the innocent, the reduction
of their number cannot be its overriding aim, or the deontologist agent would be
committed to one such killing in order to prevent more of them. Hence, the value of
minimising such actions or outcomes cannot be the distinctive explanation offered for the
wrongness of killing the vagrant. More generally, this makes it clear that whatever extra
element the deontologist sees in such killings, it does not lie in any kind of quantifiable
commodity that comprises, or results from, the actions but that it must be something
concerning the agent who may or may not perform them. Here too, though, we must avoid
thinking in terms of a commodity of some kind. Just as the concern is not with quantities
of actions, nor is it with quantities of agents. The overriding aim is not that of minimising
the number of agents who are guilty of intentionally killing innocents, or a killing would
be required if it would prevent some greater number of others from performing such
actions. Nor, to be more specific, can the aim even be the minimising of the number of
agents who, while not actually prevented from killing, freely choose not to, since
conceivably a single killing might be the means to this end (perhaps only a demonstration
of its horrors will dissuade them) yet it would still be prohibited. More generally, the
deontological explanation of the wrongness of the act cannot lie in the desirability of
minimising the number of a certain kind of agent, but must rather consist in the way each
individual agent is directed to refrain from wrongdoing.
Providing a positive account of this form of explanation is much more difficult. At least
part of the reason for this focus on each individual may be thought to lie in the idea of
individual responsibility; perhaps in the idea that we have a special causal responsibility
for our own behaviour, or perhaps just in the idea that since moral accountability for our
behaviour seems to be ultimately an individual matter, our moral precepts should reflect
this in some way. However, whatever the relevance of such general notions of individual
responsibility may be, they cannot help us with the question of right action. That we have
a peculiar causal responsibility for our own behaviour does not not determine whether we
can be morally culpable for all of it, for omissions as well as actions, for what we allow

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others to d o as well as for what we do, and hence it does not tell us whether the doctors do
wrong in allowing three to die when they could be saved at the cost of one. Nor can we derive
answers to these problems simply from the idea of the individual nature of moral
accountability, since the utilitarian can accept this as readily as the deontologist, while we
are looking for something unique to deontology. Any more specific notions of responsibility
are liable to beg the question. In fact there is no doubt that a common conception is precisely
one in which I am indeed answerable for what I do or allow in a way that I am not for what I
allow others to do; but we are looking for support for this rather than just the assertion of it.
Some may feel that to bring in one obvious framework for deontology, the authority of
divine command, is the key to our problems, either directly or through making more sense
of the idea of personal responsibility. Yet it is hard to see what help this can be in explaining
the wrongness of actions. As with the moral realism mentioned at the outset, we aspire to
finding moral judgements intelligible independently of their ontological basis, and if the
rationale of a prohibition seems puzzling in itself it will be no less puzzling when we come to
believe it to be commanded by God. It may make us feel that the puzzle is now irrelevant, so
that we are no longer troubled by it, but this in noway shows how deontology could be an
improvement over consequentialism as a moral theory.
It may also be thought that since the condition of innocence is an essential part of the
prohibition, it may also assist our understanding of deontology. It could not be the sole
explanation, since there are other traditional prohibitions (such as Kant’s principle that
lying is forbidden in all circumstances) in which it does not apear. Yet the appeal to
innocence may be thought sufficiently characteristic of deontology ,and sufficiently foreign
to consequentialism, for it to throw some light on deontology in general. In fact the truth
seems to be otherwise. In so far as innocence explains anything it is as likely to draw us back
to other theories instead. For example, it might be that something about innocence, or
innocent lives, has an explanatory role as a commodity of some kind, whether tradeable
against other goods or protected from consequentialist claims by an absolute restriction. In
the latter role it might naturally be the subject of a side-constraint, and as in all such cases we
simply await the arguments that will exclude aggregation and the killing of one innocent to
save many. Whatever is said on this, however, it will be a matter of the significance of the
commodity of innocence alone and strictly nothing to do with deontological theory at all.
The fact that side-constraints are absolute in nature should not mislead us into thinking that
the theory of deontology has anything distinctive to say regarding their establishment.
There are, it seems, two aspects to deontology. There is the selection of the various acts
and omissions that it requires, and there is the individual, agent-relative form of the
requirements as they impinge on us. It is worth comparing these aspects with the
corresponding division in virtue ethics. Firstly, as far as the substance of what they enjoin is
concerned, both bring a tradition with them that is in many respects admirable; yet in so far
as either is a moral theory, neither has any unique way of defending its inheritance. Neither
is in principle in any position to mock the consequentialist’s discomfort over what exactly is
to count as the good. Secondly, the unique element of both is a concern with the agent, not
the action. This is obvious in the case of the virtues, but less so in the case of deontology,
which indeed is often thought unique precisely in representing an abhorrence of certain
actions, like the killing of innocent people. Yet this is not so. A natural view for anyone who
had a moral abhorrence of such killings above all else would be to require them when they
reduced the overall total and forbid them otherwise, a view quite contrary to the
deontologist’s prohibition of killing on each agent and (as must follow) the insistence that

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even to consider the benefits of such acts is to be morally errant. The deontologist is thus
compelled to seek something explanatory in the agent, rather as Kant saw the wrongness of
lying as consisting in a crime by the liar against himself [ 9 ] .
A theory that tells us that an act is absolutely forbidden yet denies that it must be better
for fewer rather than more to occur, while not thereby inconsistent, does produce a puzzle
over the exact nature and moral weight of its unique contribution to ethics. The brief review
made above of some considerations that it cannot appeal to aimed to highlight the shortage of
explanatory resources remaining, the resources from which it has to make a case for a
universal moral injunction that is nevertheless relative to each person. Much has been
written, of course, about the difficulty of arguing for this sort of injunction and my concern
will not be with the details of this problem [ 101. The point to be made here is a connected
but slightly different one, not about what rationale can be given for agent-relative
injunctions but about what special light they can throw on the subject of right action. The
point is this. For the same kind of reason as applied in the case of virtue theory this element
of deontology cannot possibly give us an explanation of the rightness of actions, since we can
have no idea of a morally desirable kind of agent prior to that of a morally desirable kind of
action. Hence, since what is definitive of deontology lies wholly in this idea of agency,
deontology cannot possibly provide a distinctive explanation of right action.
Of course, if we simply grant a specific set of deontological injunctions then this may well
constitute a distinctive moral code, but it will not be one of much use to us here. Firstly, the
absolutism of its requirements will be liable to run counter to the moral views of many
regarding certain plausible cases of aggregation and the overall minimising of evils.
Secondly, and more importantly, without a defence of this opposition to minimising there
will really be no moral theory at all. As with right-based theories, just to reject
consequentialism is not to put forward an alternative account. Even to reject the killing of
the vagrant on grounds of an absolute prohibition on killing the innocent does not in itself
make someone a deontologist, it being consistent with other theories or indeed with the
absence of any theory whatsoever.

VI

T o close, it is perhaps worth emphasising the limited aim of this paper. It does not address
the challenge of those who think that philosophy has nothing to say on the subject of what we
ought to do. It merely assumes that in fact many philosophers think it a legitimate concern,
that the increasing interest in applied philosophy ensures that this will continue, and that it
is important to be clear about the philosophical methods employed. Equally, it does not
address those who think that, while it is indeed a legitimate concern, philosophy has nothing
of a theoretical or systematic nature to say about it. Instead, the assumption has been made
that, at least, we do not yet know that theorising about ethics will be fruitless. On this basis
the paper has aimed to take issue with a certain view, perhaps currently the prevailing one,
of what moral philosophy can offer by way of moral theories.
When considering a moral problem in philosophy, be it abortion, euthanasia, the supply
of transplant organs or whatever, we typically try to sort out the various considerations
relevant to the choice of how to act. In part this is done because we know that the significance
of these considerations varies according to which moral theory we go on to invoke. The
received view then seems to be that the familiar theories offer genuinely different

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approaches to the question of right action, including a few that will improve on the
cogent yet repugnant utilitarian treatment of the example of the vagrant. The suggestion
of this paper is that while each of these alternative approaches may indeed be distinct
when taken as a whole, the element of each that makes it so does not provide any
distinctive account of which actions are right and which wrong. Hence they are bound to
disappoint us if we are looking for some new insight into why we should not treat the
vagrant’s life as part of an aggregate to be maximised, rather than just the assertion that
we should not. Since they do not provide distinct theories of right action at all they can
hardly provide any explanatory account of actions that will enlighten us as to where
utilitarianism fails in this respect.
This incapacity is probably most evident in the case of virtue theory. However vital
dispositions may be to the philosophies of mind, action and education, they are surely
entirely derivative in moral theory, wholly dependent upon a prior judgement of what
actions are deemed right, or at least worthy. The case of rights is slightly different. It is
not that their contribution necessarily lies elsewhere (they can certainly give reasons for
action) so much as that they leave everything of an explanatory kind to be said. Of
course we think that the vagrant has a right not to be killed, but that is not an answer to
the problem. Nor, it seems, can one be found in deontology. When we find cases of
maximising that are counter-intuitive, as with saving our transplant patients, and when
we are also told that there is another theory that we can turn to instead, it is surely
reasonable to hope for some theoretical enlightenment from the latter. Yet if we are
puzzled as to how a wildly counter-intuitive requirement for some act A can arise from
an apparently plausible claim about maximising the good, it is no help to be directed to a
(supposed) theory that says ‘never do A’ but adds nothing else of relevance. A theory,
moreover, which, having as its definitive element a concern with the agent rather than
the act, seems actually precluded from giving its own account of right action.
What should be concluded from all this? Above all, I suggest, that there is a much
greater unity within moral theory than is implied by the standard division into conse-
quentialism, virtue ethics, right-based theories and deontology. However convenient it
may be, it is misleading to put forward this division as though it represented a set of
alternative theories that we can apply to our moral problems. The different forms of
explanation that would warrant talk of different moral theories are simply not available.
What we have at best is one genuine theory and a number of alleged theories that appear
on analysis merely to reject the troublesome conclusions of consequentialism, and, more
importantly, seem to lack the independent means to do anything other than this.
What is more, consequentialism leaves us with a genuine problem. It is in fact the
maximising element in this theory, together with well-founded doubts about the moral
significance of the actlomission distinction, that has constituted one of the great
challenges in the recent study of ethics, exemplified here by the hospital case. Of course,
those who deny the place of theory in ethics can treat this kind of example as unthink-
able and just reject it. The contention of this paper is that’any alternative moral theory
should do more than merely reject the unappealing conclusion, and that in this none of
the candidates seems able to succeed.

Hugh Upton, Centre for Philosophy t

3 Health Care, University College of Swansea, Singleton
Park, Swansea SA2 8PP

0Society for Applied Philosophy, 1993

 On Applying Moral Theories 199

Acknowledgement

Thanks to Tony Ellis for comments on an earlier version of this paper.

NOTES
[ l ] Foot, P. (1985) Utilitarianism and the Virtues,Mind, pp. 196-209.
[2] Hursthouse, R. (1991) Virtue Theory and Abortion, Philosophy andPublic Affairs, 20, pp. 223-2445, explicitly
offers an account of virtue ethics as a theoty.
[3] Sen, A. K. (1982) Rights and Agency, Philosophy and Public Affairs, 11, pp. S 3 9 , proposes the first, while
Mill, J . S. (1861) Utilitarianism, many editions, makes a well-known attempt at the second.
[4] Williams, B. A. 0. (1987) The Primacy of Dispositions, in: G. Haydon (Ed.) Education and Values (London,
Institute of Education, University of London) p. 64. See also Williams (1985) Erhics and theLimitsof Philosophy
(London, Fontana) pp. 51-2.
[5] See Brandt, R. B. (1992)The Structure of Virtue, in: Brandt,MoraZity, Udirurianism, andRights (Cambridge,
Cambridge University Press) pp. 289-31 1.
[6] Hare, R. M. (1981)MoraZ Thinking: Its Levels, Method andPoint (Oxford, Clarendon Press) p. 132.
[7] Harris, J. (1975) The Survival Lottery, Philosophy, 50, pp. 81-7, makes this difficulty clear.
[8] Nozick, R. (1974) Anarchy, Srate, and Utopia (Oxford, Basil Blackwell) pp. 28-30.
[9] Kant, I. (1797) TheMetaphysics of Morals, trans. Gregor, M. (1991, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press)
pp. 225-6, Academy ed. pp. 429-30.
[lo] See Scheffler, S. (1982) The Rejection ofCunsequentialistn (Oxford, Clarendon Press) and Kagan, S. (1989) The
Limits ofMorality (Oxford, Clarendon Press).

0Society for Applied Philosophy, 1993