I’ve only posted a few parts from the whole essay. Ellipses indicate skipped sections. Taken from “What Does it All Mean?: A Very Short Introduction to Philosophy”, by Thomas Nagel. Chapter 7, “Right and Wrong”. Oxford University Press, 1987.
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Suppose you work in a library, checking people’s books as they leave, and a friend asks you to let him smuggle out a hard-to-find reference work that he wants to own.
You might hesitate to agree for various reasons. You might be afraid that he’ll be caught, and that both you and he will then get into trouble. You might want the book to stay in the library so that you can consult it yourself.
But you may also think that what he proposes is wrong – that he shouldn’t do it and you shouldn’t help him. If you think that, what does it mean, and what, if anything, makes it true?
To say it’s wrong is not just to say it’s against the rules. There can be bad rules which prohibit what isn’t wrong – like a law against criticizing the government. A rule can also be bad because it requires something that is wrong – like a law that requires racial segregation in hotels and restaurants. The ideas of wrong and right are different from the ideas of what is and is not against the rules. Otherwise they couldn’t be used in the evaluation of rules as well as of actions.
If you think it would be wrong to help your friend steal the book, then you will feel uncomfortable about doing it: in some way you won’t want to do it, even if you are also reluctant to refuse help to a friend. Where does the desire not to do it come from; what is its motive, the reason behind it?
There are various ways in which something can be wrong, but in this case, if you had to explain it, you’d probably say that it would be unfair to other users of the library who may be just as interested in the book as your friend is, but who consult it in the reference room, where anyone who needs it can find it. You may also feel that to let him take it would betray your employers, who are paying you precisely to keep this sort of thing from happening.
These thoughts have to do with effects on others – not necessarily effects on their feelings, since they may never find out about it, but some kind of damage nevertheless. In general, the thought that something is wrong depends on its impact not just on the person who does it but on other people. They wouldn’t like it, and they’d object if they found out.
But suppose you try to explain all this to your friend, and he says, “I know the head librarian wouldn’t like it if he found out, and probably some of the other users of the library would be unhappy to find the book gone, but who cares? I want the book; why should I care about them?”
The argument that it would be wrong is supposed to give him a reason not to do it. But if someone just doesn’t care about other people, what reason does he have to refrain from doing any of the things usually thought to be wrong, if he can get away with it: what reason does he have not to kill, steal, lie or hurt others? If he can get what he wants by doing such thigs, why shouldn’t he? And if there’s no reason why he shouldn’t, in what sense is it wrong?
Of course most people do care about others to some extent. But if someone doesn’t care, most of us wouldn’t conclude that he’s exempt from morality. A person who kills someone just to steal his wallet, without caring about the victim, is not automatically excused. The fact that he doesn’t care doesn’t make it all right: He should care. But why should he care?
There have been many attempts to answer this question. One type of answer tries to identify something else that the person already cares about, and then connect morality to it.
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This third objection also applies to other explanations of the force of morality which appeal to the interests of the person who must act. For example, it may be said that you should treat others with consideration so that they’ll do the same for you. This may be sound advice, but it is valid only so far as you think what you do will affect how others treat you. It’s not a reason for doing the right thing if others won’t find out about it, or against doing the wrong thing if you can get away with it (like being a hit and run driver).
There is no substitute for a direct concern for other people as the basis of morality. But morality is supposed to apply to everyone: and can we assume that everyone has such a concern for others? Obviously not: some people are very selfish, and even those who are not selfish may care only about the people they know, and not about everyone. So where will we find a reason that everyone has not to hurt other people, even those they don’t know?
Well, there’s one general argument against hurting other people which can be given to anybody who understands English (or any other language), and which seems to show that he has some reason to care about others, even if in the end his selfish motives are so strong that he persists in treating other people badly anyway. It’s an argument that I’m sure you’ve heard, and it goes like this: “How would you like it if someone did that to you?”
It’s not easy to explain how this argument is supposed to work. Suppose you’re about to steal someone else’s umbrella as you leave a restaurant in a rainstorm, and a bystander says, “How would you like it if someone did that to you?” Why is it supposed to make you hesitate, or feel guilty?
Obviously the direct answer to the question is supposed to be, “I wouldn’t like it at all!” But what’s the next step? Suppose you were to say “I wouldn’t like it if someone did that to me. But luckily no one is doing it to me. I’m doing it to someone else, and I don’t mind that at all!”
This answer misses the point of the question. When you are asked how you would like it if someone did that to you, you are supposed to think about all the feelings you would have if someone stole your umbrella. And that includes more than just “not liking it” – as you wouldn’t “like it” if you stubbed your toe on a rock. If someone stole your umbrella you’d resent it. You’d have feelings about the umbrella thief, not just about the loss of the umbrella. You’d think, “Where does he get off, taking my umbrella that I bought with my hard-earned money and that I had to the foresight to bring after reading the weather report? Why didn’t he bring his own umbrella?” and so forth.
When our own interests are threatened by the inconsiderate behavior of others, most of us find it easy to appreciate that those others have a reason to be more considerate. When you are hurt, you probably feel that other people should care about it: you don’t think it’s no concern of theirs, and that they have no reason to avoid hurting you. That is the feeling that “How would you like it?” argument is supposed to arouse.
Because if you admit that you would resent it if someone else did it to you, what you are now doing to him, you are admitting that you think he would have a reason not to do it to you. And if you admit that, you have to consider what that reasoning is. It couldn’t be just that it’s you that he’s hurting, of all the people in the world. There’s no special reason for him not to steal yourumbrella, as opposed to anyone else’s. There’s nothing so special about you. Whatever the reason is, it’s a reason he would have against hurting anyone else in the same way. And it’s a reason anyone else would have too, in a similar situation, against hurting you or anyone else.
But if it’s a reason anyone would have not to hurt anyone else in this way, then it’s a reason you have not to hurt someone else in this way (since anyone means everyone). Therefore it’s a reason not to steal the other person’s umbrella now.
This is a matter of simple consistency. Once you admit that another person would have a reason not to harm you in similar circumstances, you admit that another person would have a reason not to harm you in similar circumstances, and once you admit that the reason he would have is very general and doesn’t apply only to you, or to him, then to be consistent you have to admit that the same reason applies to you now. You shouldn’t steal the umbrella, and you ought to feel guilty if you do.
Someone could escape from this argument if, when he was asked, “How would you like it if someone did that to you?” he answered, “I wouldn’t resent it at all. I wouldn’t like it if someone stole my umbrella in a rainstorm, but I wouldn’t think there was any reason for him to consider my feelings about it.” But how many people could honestly give that answer? I think most people, unless they’re crazy, would think that their own interests and harms matter, not only to themselves, but in a way that gives other people a reason to care about them too. We all think that when we suffer it is not just bad for us, but bad, period.
The basis of morality is a belief that good and harm to particular people (or animals) is good or bad not just from their point of view, but from a more general point of view, which every thinking person can understand. That means that each person has a reason to consider not only his own interests but the interests of others in deciding what to do. And it isn’t enough if he is considerate only of some others – his family and friends, those he specially cares about. Of course he will care more about certain people, and also about himself. But he has some reason to consider the effect of what he does on the good or harm of everyone. If he’s like most of us, that is what he thinks others should do with regard to him, even if they aren’t friends of his.