## 1. Examples



In Book I of Plato's *Republic*, Cephalus defines
'justice' as speaking the truth and paying one's
debts. Socrates quickly refutes this account by suggesting that it
would be wrong to repay certain debts--for example, to return a
borrowed weapon to a friend who is not in his right mind.
Socrates' point is not that repaying debts is without moral
import; rather, he wants to show that it is not always right to repay
one's debts, at least not exactly when the one to whom the debt
is owed demands repayment. What we have here is a conflict between two
moral norms: repaying one's debts and protecting others from
harm. And in this case, Socrates maintains that protecting others from
harm is the norm that takes priority.



Nearly twenty-four centuries later, Jean-Paul Sartre described a moral
conflict the resolution of which was, to many, less obvious than the
resolution to the Platonic conflict. Sartre (1957) tells of a student
whose brother had been killed in the German offensive of 1940. The
student wanted to avenge his brother and to fight forces that he
regarded as evil. But the student's mother was living with him,
and he was her one consolation in life. The student believed that he
had conflicting obligations. Sartre describes him as being torn
between two kinds of morality: one of limited scope but certain
efficacy, personal devotion to his mother; the other of much wider
scope but uncertain efficacy, attempting to contribute to the defeat
of an unjust aggressor.



While the examples from Plato and Sartre are the ones most commonly
cited, there are many others. Literature abounds with such cases. In
Aeschylus's *Agamemnon*, the protagonist ought to save
his daughter and ought to lead the Greek troops to Troy; he ought to
do each but he cannot do both. And Antigone, in Sophocles's play
of the same name, ought to arrange for the burial of her brother,
Polyneices, and ought to obey the pronouncements of the city's
ruler, Creon; she can do each of these things, but not both. Areas of
applied ethics, such as biomedical ethics, business ethics, and legal
ethics, are also replete with such cases.


## 2. The Concept of Moral Dilemmas



What is common to the two well-known cases is conflict. In each case,
an agent regards herself as having moral reasons to do each of two
actions, but doing both actions is not possible. Ethicists have called
situations like these *moral dilemmas*. The crucial features of
a moral dilemma are these: the agent is required to do each of two (or
more) actions; the agent can do each of the actions; but the agent
cannot do both (or all) of the actions. The agent thus seems condemned
to moral failure; no matter what she does, she will do something wrong
(or fail to do something that she ought to do).



The Platonic case strikes many as too easy to be characterized as a
genuine moral dilemma. For the agent's solution in that case is
clear; it is more important to protect people from harm than to return
a borrowed weapon. And in any case, the borrowed item can be returned
later, when the owner no longer poses a threat to others. Thus in this
case we can say that the requirement to protect others from serious
harm *overrides* the requirement to repay one's debts by
returning a borrowed item when its owner so demands. When one of the
conflicting requirements overrides the other, we have a conflict but
not a genuine moral dilemma. So in addition to the features mentioned
above, in order to have a *genuine* moral dilemma it must also
be true that neither of the conflicting requirements is overridden
(Sinnott-Armstrong 1988, Chapter 1).


## 3. Problems



It is less obvious in Sartre's case that one of the requirements
overrides the other. Why this is so, however, may not be so obvious.
Some will say that our uncertainty about what to do in this case is
simply the result of uncertainty about the consequences. If we were
certain that the student could make a difference in defeating the
Germans, the obligation to join the military would prevail. But if the
student made little difference whatsoever in that cause, then his
obligation to tend to his mother's needs would take precedence,
since there he is virtually certain to be helpful. Others, though,
will say that these obligations are equally weighty, and that
uncertainty about the consequences is not at issue here.



Ethicists as diverse as Kant (1971/1797), Mill (1979/1861), and Ross
(1930, 1939) have assumed that an adequate moral theory should not
allow for the possibility of genuine moral dilemmas. Only
recently--in the last sixty years or so--have philosophers
begun to challenge that assumption. And the challenge can take at
least two different forms. Some will argue that it is *not
possible* to preclude genuine moral dilemmas. Others will argue
that even if it were possible, it is *not desirable* to do
so.



To illustrate some of the debate that occurs regarding whether it is
possible for any theory to eliminate genuine moral dilemmas, consider
the following. The conflicts in Plato's case and in
Sartre's case arose because there is more than one moral precept
(using 'precept' to designate rules and principles), more
than one precept sometimes applies to the same situation, and in some
of these cases the precepts demand conflicting actions. One obvious
solution here would be to arrange the precepts, however many there
might be, hierarchically. By this scheme, the highest ordered precept
always prevails, the second prevails unless it conflicts with the
first, and so on. There are at least two glaring problems with this
obvious solution, however. First, it just does not seem credible to
hold that moral rules and principles should be hierarchically ordered.
While the requirements to keep one's promises and to prevent
harm to others clearly can conflict, it is far from clear that one of
these requirements should *always* prevail over the other. In
the Platonic case, the obligation to prevent harm is clearly stronger.
But there can easily be cases where the harm that can be prevented is
relatively mild and the promise that is to be kept is very important.
And most other pairs of precepts are like this. This was a point made
by Ross in *The Right and the Good* (1930, Chapter 2).



The second problem with this easy solution is deeper. Even if it were
plausible to arrange moral precepts hierarchically, situations can
arise in which the same precept gives rise to conflicting obligations.
Perhaps the most widely discussed case of this sort is taken from
William Styron's *Sophie's Choice* (1980,
528-529; see Greenspan 1983 and Tessman 2015, 160-163).
Sophie and her two children are at a Nazi concentration camp. A guard
confronts Sophie and tells her that one of her children will be
allowed to live and one will be killed. But it is Sophie who must
decide which child will be killed. Sophie can prevent the death of
either of her children, but only by condemning the other to be killed.
The guard makes the situation even more excruciating by informing
Sophie that if she chooses neither, then both will be killed. With
this added factor, Sophie has a morally compelling reason to choose
one of her children. But for each child, Sophie has an apparently
equally strong reason to save him or her. Thus the same moral precept
gives rise to conflicting obligations. Some have called such cases
*symmetrical* (Sinnott-Armstrong 1988, Chapter 2).


## 4. Dilemmas and Consistency



We shall return to the issue of whether it is possible to preclude
genuine moral dilemmas. But what about the desirability of doing so?
Why have ethicists thought that their theories should preclude the
possibility of dilemmas? At the intuitive level, the existence of
moral dilemmas suggests some sort of inconsistency. An agent caught in
a genuine dilemma is required to do each of two acts but cannot do
both. And since he cannot do both, not doing one is a condition of
doing the other. Thus, it seems that the same act is both required and
forbidden. But exposing a logical inconsistency takes some work; for
initial inspection reveals that the inconsistency intuitively felt is
not present. Allowing \(OA\) to designate that the agent in question
ought to do \(A\) (or is morally obligated to do \(A\), or is morally
required to do \(A)\), that \(OA\) and \(OB\) are both true is not
itself inconsistent, even if one adds that it is not possible for the
agent to do both \(A\) and \(B\). And even if the situation is
appropriately described as \(OA\) and \(O\neg A\), that is not a
contradiction; the contradictory of \(OA\) is \(\neg OA\). (See Marcus
1980 and McConnell 1978, 273.)



Similarly rules that generate moral dilemmas are not inconsistent, at
least on the usual understanding of that term. Ruth Marcus suggests
plausibly that we "define a set of rules as consistent if there
is some possible world in which they are all obeyable in all
circumstances in *that* world." Thus, "rules are
consistent if there are possible circumstances in which no conflict
will emerge," and "a set of rules is inconsistent if there
are *no* circumstances, no possible world, in which all the
rules are satisfiable" (Marcus 1980, 128 and 129). Kant, Mill,
and Ross were likely aware that a dilemma-generating theory need not
be inconsistent. Even so, they would be disturbed if their own
theories allowed for such predicaments. If this speculation is
correct, it suggests that Kant, Mill, Ross, and others thought that
there is an important theoretical feature that dilemma-generating
theories lack. And this is understandable. It is certainly no comfort
to an agent facing a reputed moral dilemma to be told that at least
the rules which generate this predicament are consistent because there
is a possible world in which they do not conflict. For a good
practical example, consider the situation of the criminal defense
attorney. She is said to have an obligation to hold in confidence the
disclosures made by a client and to be required to conduct herself
with candor before the court (where the latter requires that the
attorney inform the court when her client commits perjury) (Freedman
1975, Chapter 3). It is clear that in this world these two obligations
often conflict. It is equally clear that in some possible
world--for example, one in which clients do not commit
perjury--that both obligations can be satisfied. Knowing this is
of no assistance to defense attorneys who face a conflict between
these two requirements in this world.



Ethicists who are concerned that their theories not allow for moral
dilemmas have more than consistency in mind. What is troubling is that
theories that allow for dilemmas fail to be *uniquely
action-guiding*. A theory is appropriately action-guiding if it
assesses an agent's options as either forbidden, (merely) permissible,
or obligatory (or, possibly, supererogatory). If more than one action
is right, then the agent's obligation is to do any one of the right
acts. A theory can fail to be uniquely action-guiding in either of two
ways: by recommending incompatible actions in a situation or by not
recommending any action at all. Theories that generate genuine moral
dilemmas fail to be uniquely action-guiding in the former way.
Theories that have no way, even in principle, of determining what an
agent should do in a particular situation have what Thomas E. Hill,
Jr. calls "gaps" (Hill 1996, 179-183); they fail to
be action-guiding in the latter way. Since one of the main points of
moral theories is to provide agents with guidance, that suggests that
it is desirable for theories to eliminate dilemmas and gaps, at least
if doing so is possible.



But failing to be uniquely action-guiding is not the only reason that
the existence of moral dilemmas is thought to be troublesome. Just as
important, the existence of dilemmas does lead to inconsistencies if
certain other widely held theses are true. Here we shall consider two
different arguments, each of which shows that one cannot consistently
acknowledge the reality of moral dilemmas while holding selected (and
seemingly plausible) principles.



The first argument shows that two standard principles of deontic logic
are, when conjoined, incompatible with the existence of moral
dilemmas. The first of these is the **principle of deontic
consistency**

 
\[\tag{PC}
OA \rightarrow \neg O\neg A.
\]


Intuitively this principle just says that the same action cannot be
both obligatory and forbidden. Note that as initially described, the
existence of dilemmas does not conflict with PC. For as described,
dilemmas involve a situation in which an agent ought to do \(A\),
ought to do \(B\), but cannot do both \(A\) and \(B\). But if we add a
**principle of deontic logic**, then we obtain a conflict with
PC:

 
\[\tag{PD}
\Box(A \rightarrow B) \rightarrow(OA \rightarrow OB).
\]


Intuitively, PD just says that if doing \(A\) brings about \(B\), and
if \(A\) is obligatory (morally required), then \(B\) is obligatory
(morally required). The *first argument* that generates
inconsistency can now be stated. Premises (1), (2), and (3) represent
the claim that moral dilemmas exist. 




|  |  |  |
| --- | --- | --- |
| 1. | \(OA\) |  |
| 2. | \(OB\) |  |
| 3. | \(\neg C (A \amp B)\) | [where '\(\neg C\)' means
'cannot'] |
| 4. | \(\Box(A \rightarrow B) \rightarrow(OA \rightarrow OB)\) | [where '\(\Box\)' means physical
necessity] |
| 5. | \(\Box \neg(B \amp A)\) | (from 3) |
| 6. | \(\Box(B \rightarrow \neg A)\) | (from 5) |
| 7. | \(\Box(B \rightarrow \neg A) \rightarrow(OB \rightarrow O\neg
A)\) | (an instantiation of 4) |
| 8. | \(OB \rightarrow O\neg A\) | (from 6 and 7) |
| 9. | \(O\neg A\) | (from 2 and 8) |
| 10. | \(OA \text{ and } O\neg A\) | (from 1 and 9) |



Line (10) directly conflicts with PC. And from PC and (1), we can
conclude:




|  |  |
| --- | --- |
| 11. | \(\neg O\neg A\) |



And, of course, (9) and (11) are contradictory. So if we assume PC and
PD, then the existence of dilemmas generates an inconsistency of the
old-fashioned logical sort. (Note: In standard deontic logic, the
'\(\Box\)' in PD typically designates logical necessity.
Here I take it to indicate physical necessity so that the appropriate
connection with premise (3) can be made. And I take it that logical
necessity is stronger than physical necessity.)



Two other principles accepted in most systems of deontic logic entail
PC. So if PD holds, then one of these additional two principles must
be jettisoned too. The first says that if an action is obligatory, it
is also permissible. The second says that an action is permissible if
and only if it is not forbidden. These principles may be stated
as:

 
\[\tag{OP}
OA \rightarrow PA;
\]


and 

 
\[\tag{D}
PA \leftrightarrow \neg O\neg A.
\]


Principles OP and D are basic; they seem to be conceptual truths
(Brink 1994, section IV). From these two principles, one can deduce
PC, which gives it additional support.



The *second argument* that generates inconsistency, like the
first, has as its first three premises a symbolic representation of a
moral dilemma.




|  |  |
| --- | --- |
| 1. | \(OA\) |
| 2. | \(OB\) |
| 3. | \(\neg C (A \amp B)\) |



And like the first, this second argument shows that the existence of
dilemmas leads to a contradiction if we assume two other commonly
accepted principles. The first of these principles is that
'ought' implies 'can'. Intuitively this says
that if an agent is morally required to do an action, it must be
within the agent's power to do it. This principle seems necessary if
moral judgments are to be uniquely action-guiding. We may represent
this as




|  |  |  |
| --- | --- | --- |
| 4. | \(OA \rightarrow CA\) | (for all \(A\)) |



The other principle, endorsed by most systems of deontic logic, says
that if an agent is required to do each of two actions, she is
required to do both. We may represent this as 




|  |  |  |
| --- | --- | --- |
| 5. | \((OA \amp OB) \rightarrow O(A\amp B)\) | (for all \(A\) and all \(B\)) |



The argument then proceeds: 




|  |  |  |
| --- | --- | --- |
| 6. | \(O(A \amp B) \rightarrow C(A \amp B)\) | (an instance of 4) |
| 7. | \(OA \amp OB\) | (from 1 and 2) |
| 8. | \(O(A \amp B)\) | (from 5 and 7) |
| 9. | \(\neg O(A \amp B)\) | (from 3 and 6) |



So if one assumes that 'ought' implies 'can'
and if one assumes the principle represented in (5)--dubbed by
some the agglomeration principle (Williams 1965)--then again a
contradiction can be derived.


## 5. Responses to the Arguments



Now obviously the inconsistency in the first argument can be avoided
if one denies either PC or PD. And the inconsistency in the second
argument can be averted if one gives up either the principle that
'ought' implies 'can' or the agglomeration
principle. There is, of course, another way to avoid these
inconsistencies: deny the possibility of genuine moral dilemmas. It is
fair to say that much of the debate concerning moral dilemmas in the
last sixty years has been about how to avoid the inconsistencies
generated by the two arguments above.



Opponents of moral dilemmas have generally held that the crucial
principles in the two arguments above are conceptually true, and
therefore we must deny the possibility of genuine dilemmas. (See, for
example, Conee 1982 and Zimmerman 1996.) Most of the debate, from all
sides, has focused on the second argument. There is an oddity about
this, however. When one examines the pertinent principles in each
argument which, in combination with dilemmas, generates an
inconsistency, there is little doubt that those in the first argument
have a greater claim to being conceptually true than those in the
second. (One who recognizes the salience of the first argument is
Brink 1994, section V.) Perhaps the focus on the second argument is
due to the impact of Bernard Williams's influential essay
(Williams 1965). But notice that the first argument shows that if
there are genuine dilemmas, then either PC or PD must be relinquished.
Even most supporters of dilemmas acknowledge that PC is quite basic.
E.J. Lemmon, for example, notes that if PC does not hold in a system
of deontic logic, then all that remains are truisms and paradoxes
(Lemmon 1965, p. 51). And giving up PC also requires denying either OP
or D, each of which also seems basic. There has been much debate about
PD--in particular, questions generated by the Good Samaritan
paradox--but still it seems basic. So those who want to argue
against dilemmas purely on conceptual grounds are better off focusing
on the first of the two arguments above.



Some opponents of dilemmas also hold that the pertinent principles in
the second argument--the principle that 'ought'
implies 'can' and the agglomeration principle--are
conceptually true. But foes of dilemmas need not say this. Even if
they believe that a conceptual argument against dilemmas can be made
by appealing to PC and PD, they have several options regarding the
second argument. They may defend 'ought' implies
'can', but hold that it is a substantive normative
principle, not a conceptual truth. Or they may even deny the truth of
'ought' implies 'can' or the agglomeration
principle, though not because of moral dilemmas, of course.



Defenders of dilemmas need not deny all of the pertinent principles.
If one thinks that each of the principles at least has some initial
plausibility, then one will be inclined to retain as many as possible.
Among the earlier contributors to this debate, some took the existence
of dilemmas as a counterexample to 'ought' implies
'can' (for example, Lemmon 1962 and Trigg 1971); others,
as a refutation of the agglomeration principle (for example, Williams
1965 and van Fraassen 1973). A common response to the first argument
is to deny PD. A more complicated response is to grant that the
crucial deontic principles hold, but only in ideal worlds. In the real
world, they have heuristic value, bidding agents in conflict cases to
look for permissible options, though none may exist (Holbo 2002,
especially sections 15-17).



Friends and foes of dilemmas have a burden to bear in responding to
the two arguments above. For there is at least a *prima facie*
plausibility to the claim that there are moral dilemmas and to the
claim that the relevant principles in the two arguments are true. Thus
each side must at least give reasons for denying the pertinent claims
in question. Opponents of dilemmas must say something in response to
the positive arguments that are given for the reality of such
conflicts. One reason in support of dilemmas, as noted above, is
simply pointing to examples. The case of Sartre's student and
that from *Sophie's Choice* are good ones; and clearly
these can be multiplied indefinitely. It will tempting for supporters
of dilemmas to say to opponents, "If this is not a real dilemma,
then tell me *what* the agent ought to do and
*why*?" It is obvious, however, that attempting to answer
such questions is fruitless, and for at least two reasons. First, any
answer given to the question is likely to be controversial, certainly
not always convincing. And second, this is a game that will never end;
example after example can be produced. The more appropriate response
on the part of foes of dilemmas is to deny that they need to answer
the question. Examples as such cannot establish the reality of
dilemmas. Surely most will acknowledge that there are situations in
which an agent does not know what he ought to do. This may be because
of factual uncertainty, uncertainty about the consequences,
uncertainty about what principles apply, or a host of other things. So
for any given case, the mere fact that one does not know which of two
(or more) conflicting obligations prevails does not show that none
does.



Another reason in support of dilemmas to which opponents must respond
is the point about symmetry. As the cases from Plato and Sartre show,
moral rules can conflict. But opponents of dilemmas can argue that in
such cases one rule overrides the other. Most will grant this in the
Platonic case, and opponents of dilemmas will try to extend this point
to all cases. But the hardest case for opponents is the symmetrical
one, where the same precept generates the conflicting requirements.
The case from *Sophie's Choice* is of this sort. It makes
no sense to say that a rule or principle overrides itself. So what do
opponents of dilemmas say here? They are apt to argue that the
pertinent, all-things-considered requirement in such a case is
disjunctive: Sophie should act to save one or the other of her
children, since that is the best that she can do (for example,
Zimmerman 1996, Chapter 7). Such a move need not be *ad hoc*,
since in many cases it is quite natural. If an agent can afford to
make a meaningful contribution to only one charity, the fact that
there are several worthwhile candidates does not prompt many to say
that the agent will fail morally no matter what he does. Nearly all of
us think that he should give to one or the other of the worthy
candidates. Similarly, if two people are drowning and an agent is
situated so that she can save either of the two but only one, few say
that she is doing wrong no matter which person she saves. Positing a
disjunctive requirement in these cases seems perfectly natural, and so
such a move is available to opponents of dilemmas as a response to
symmetrical cases.



Supporters of dilemmas have a burden to bear too. They need to cast
doubt on the adequacy of the pertinent principles in the two arguments
that generate inconsistencies. And most importantly, they need to
provide independent reasons for doubting whichever of the principles
they reject. If they have no reason other than cases of putative
dilemmas for denying the principles in question, then we have a mere
standoff. Of the principles in question, the most commonly questioned
on independent grounds are the principle that 'ought'
implies 'can' and PD. Among supporters of dilemmas, Walter
Sinnott-Armstrong (Sinnott-Armstrong 1988, Chapters 4 and 5) has gone
to the greatest lengths to provide independent reasons for questioning
some of the relevant principles.


## 6. Moral Residue and Dilemmas



One well-known argument for the reality of moral dilemmas has not been
discussed yet. This argument might be called
"phenomenological." It appeals to the emotions that agents
facing conflicts experience and our assessment of those emotions.



Return to the case of Sartre's student. Suppose that he joins
the Free French forces. It is likely that he will experience remorse
or guilt for having abandoned his mother. And not only will he
experience these emotions, this moral residue, but it is appropriate
that he does. Yet, had he stayed with his mother and not joined the
Free French forces, he also would have appropriately experienced
remorse or guilt. But either remorse or guilt is appropriate only if
the agent properly believes that he has done something wrong (or
failed to do something that he was all-things-considered required to
do). Since no matter what the agent does he will appropriately
experience remorse or guilt, then no matter what he does he will have
done something wrong. Thus, the agent faces a genuine moral dilemma.
(The best known proponents of arguments for dilemmas that appeal to
moral residue are Williams 1965 and Marcus 1980; for a more recent
contribution, see Tessman 2015, especially Chapter 2.)



Many cases of moral conflict are similar to Sartre's example
with regard to the agent's reaction after acting. Certainly the
case from *Sophie's Choice* fits here. No matter which of
her children Sophie saves, she will experience enormous guilt for the
consequences of that choice. Indeed, if Sophie did not experience such
guilt, we would think that there was something morally wrong with her.
In these cases, proponents of the argument (for dilemmas) from moral
residue must claim that four things are true: (1) when the agents
acts, she experiences remorse or guilt; (2) that she experiences these
emotions is appropriate and called for; (3) had the agent acted on the
other of the conflicting requirements, she would also have experienced
remorse or guilt; and (4) in the latter case these emotions would have
been equally appropriate and called for (McConnell 1996, pp.
37-38). In these situations, then, remorse or guilt will be
appropriate no matter what the agent does and these emotions are
appropriate only when the agent has done something wrong. Therefore,
these situations are genuinely dilemmatic and moral failure is
inevitable for agents who face them.



There is much to say about the moral emotions and situations of moral
conflict; the positions are varied and intricate. Without pretending
to resolve all of the issues here, it will be pointed out that
opponents of dilemmas have raised two different objections to the
argument from moral residue. The first objection, in effect, suggests
that the argument is question-begging (McConnell 1978 and Conee 1982);
the second objection challenges the assumption that remorse and guilt
are appropriate only when the agent has done wrong.



To explain the first objection, note that it is uncontroversial that
some bad feeling or other is called for when an agent is in a
situation like that of Sartre's student or Sophie. But the
negative moral emotions are not limited to remorse and guilt. Among
these other emotions, consider regret. An agent can appropriately
experience regret even when she does not believe that she has done
something wrong. Consider a compelling example provided by Edmund
Santurri (1987, 46). Under battlefield conditions, an army medic must
perform a life-saving amputation of a soldier's leg with insufficient
anesthetic. She will surely feel intense regret because of the pain
she has inflicted, but justifiably she will not feel that she has done
wrong. Regret can even be appropriate when a person has no causal
connection at all with the bad state of affairs. It is appropriate for
me to regret the damage that a recent fire has caused to my
neighbor's house, the pain that severe birth defects cause in
infants, and the suffering that a starving animal experiences in the
wilderness. Not only is it appropriate that I experience regret in
these cases, but I would probably be regarded as morally lacking if I
did not. (For accounts of moral remainders as they relate specifically
to Kantianism and virtue ethics, see, respectively, Hill 1996,
183-187 and Hursthouse 1999, 44-48 and 68-77.)



With remorse or guilt, at least two components are present: the
*experiential* component, namely, the negative feeling that the
agent has; and the *cognitive* component, namely, the belief
that the agent has done something wrong and takes responsibility for
it. Although this same cognitive component is not part of regret, the
negative feeling is. And the experiential component alone cannot serve
as a gauge to distinguish regret from remorse, for regret can range
from mild to intense, and so can remorse. In part, what distinguishes
the two is the cognitive component. But now when we examine the case
of an alleged dilemma, such as that of Sartre's student, it is
question-begging to assert that it is appropriate for him to
experience remorse no matter what he does. No doubt, it is appropriate
for him to experience *some* negative feeling. To say, however,
that it is remorse that is called for is to assume that the agent
appropriately believes that he has done something wrong. Since regret
is warranted even in the absence of such a belief, to assume that
remorse is appropriate is to *assume*, not argue, that the
agent's situation is genuinely dilemmatic. Opponents of dilemmas
can say that one of the requirements overrides the other, or that the
agent faces a disjunctive requirement, and that regret is appropriate
because even when he does what he ought to do, some bad will ensue.
Either side, then, can account for the appropriateness of some
negative moral emotion. To get more specific, however, requires more
than is warranted by the present argument. This appeal to moral
residue, then, does not by itself establish the reality of moral
dilemmas.



Matters are even more complicated, though, as the second objection to
the argument from moral residue shows. The residues contemplated by
proponents of the argument are diverse, ranging from guilt or remorse
to a belief that the agent ought to apologize or compensate persons
who were negatively impacted by the fact that he did not satisfy one
of the conflicting obligations. The argument assumes that experiencing
remorse or guilt or believing that one ought to apologize or
compensate another are appropriate responses only if the agent
believes that he has done something wrong. But this assumption is
debatable, for multiple reasons.



First, even when one obligation clearly overrides another in a
conflict case, it is often appropriate to apologize to or to explain
oneself to any disadvantaged parties. Ross provides such a case (1930,
28): one who breaks a relatively trivial promise in order to assist
someone in need should in some way make it up to the promisee. Even
though the agent did no wrong, the additional actions promote
important moral values (McConnell 1996, 42-44).



Second, as Simon Blackburn argues, compensation or its like may be
called for even when there was no moral conflict at all (Blackburn
1996, 135-136). If a coach rightly selected Agnes for the team
rather than Belinda, she still is likely to talk to Belinda, encourage
her efforts, and offer tips for improving. This kind of "making
up" is just basic decency.



Third, the consequences of what one has done may be so horrible as to
make guilt inevitable. Consider the case of a middle-aged man, Bill,
and a seven-year-old boy, Johnny. It is set in a midwestern village on
a snowy December day. Johnny and several of his friends are riding
their sleds down a narrow, seldom used street, one that intersects
with a busier, although still not heavily traveled, street. Johnny, in
his enthusiasm for sledding, is not being very careful. During his
final ride he skidded under an automobile passing through the
intersection and was killed instantly. The car was driven by Bill.
Bill was driving safely, had the right of way, and was not exceeding
the speed limit. Moreover, given the physical arrangement, it would
have been impossible for Bill to have seen Johnny coming. Bill was not
at fault, legally or morally, for Johnny's death. Yet Bill
experienced what can best be described as remorse or guilt about his
role in this horrible event (McConnell 1996, 39).



At one level, Bill's feelings of remorse or guilt are not
warranted. Bill did nothing wrong. Certainly Bill does not deserve to
feel guilt (Dahl 1996, 95-96). A friend might even recommend
that Bill seek therapy. But this is not all there is to say. Most of
us understand Bill's response. From Bill's point of view,
the response is not inappropriate, not irrational, not uncalled-for.
To see this, imagine that Bill had had a very different response.
Suppose that Bill had said, "I regret Johnny's death. It
is a terrible thing. But it certainly was not my fault. I have nothing
to feel guilty about and I don't owe his parents any
apologies." Even if Bill is correct intellectually, it is hard
to imagine someone being able to achieve this sort of objectivity
about his own behavior. When human beings have caused great harm, it
is natural for them to wonder if they are at fault, even if to
outsiders it is obvious that they bear no moral responsibility for the
damage. Human beings are not so finely tuned emotionally that when
they have been *causally* responsible for harm, they can easily
turn guilt on or off depending on their degree of *moral*
responsibility. (See Zimmerman 1988, 134-135.)



Work in moral psychology can help to explain why self-directed moral
emotions like guilt or remorse are natural when an agent has acted
contrary to a moral norm, whether justifiably or not. Many moral
psychologists describe dual processes in humans for arriving at moral
judgments (see, for example, Greene 2013, especially Chapters
4-5, and Haidt 2012, especially Chapter 2). Moral emotions are
automatic, the brain's immediate response to a situation. Reason
is more like the brain's manual mode, employed when automatic
settings are insufficient, such as when norms conflict. Moral emotions
are likely the product of evolution, reinforcing conduct that promotes
social harmony and disapproving actions that thwart that end. If this
is correct, then negative moral emotions are apt to be experienced, to
some extent, any time an agent's actions are contrary to what is
normally a moral requirement.



So both supporters and opponents of moral dilemmas can give an account
of why agents who face moral conflicts appropriately experience
negative moral emotions. But there is a complex array of issues
concerning the relationship between ethical conflicts and moral
emotions, and only book-length discussions can do them justice. (See
Greenspan 1995 and Tessman 2015.)


## 7. Types of Moral Dilemmas



In the literature on moral dilemmas, it is common to draw distinctions
among various types of dilemmas. Only some of these distinctions will
be mentioned here. It is worth noting that both supporters and
opponents of dilemmas tend to draw some, if not all, of these
distinctions. And in most cases the motivation for doing so is clear.
Supporters of dilemmas may draw a distinction between dilemmas of type
\(V\) and \(W\). The upshot is typically a message to opponents of
dilemmas: "You think that all moral conflicts are resolvable.
And that is understandable, because conflicts of type \(V\) are
resolvable. But conflicts of type \(W\) are not resolvable. Thus,
contrary to your view, there are some genuine moral dilemmas."
By the same token, opponents of dilemmas may draw a distinction
between dilemmas of type \(X\) and \(Y\). And their message to
supporters of dilemmas is this: "You think that there are
genuine moral dilemmas, and given certain facts, it is understandable
why this appears to be the case. But if you draw a distinction between
conflicts of types \(X\) and \(Y\), you can see that appearances can
be explained by the existence of type \(X\) alone, and type \(X\)
conflicts are not genuine dilemmas." With this in mind, let us
note a few of the distinctions.



One distinction is between *epistemic* conflicts and
*ontological* conflicts. (For different terminology, see
Blackburn 1996, 127-128.) The former involve conflicts between
two (or more) moral requirements and the agent does not know which of
the conflicting requirements takes precedence in her situation.
Everyone concedes that there can be situations where one requirement
does take priority over the other with which it conflicts, though at
the time action is called for it is difficult for the agent to tell
which requirement prevails. The latter are conflicts between two (or
more) moral requirements, and neither is overridden. This is not
simply because the agent does not *know* which requirement is
stronger; neither is. Genuine moral dilemmas, if there are any, are
ontological. Both opponents and supporters of dilemmas acknowledge
that there are epistemic conflicts.



There can be genuine moral dilemmas only if neither of the conflicting
requirements is overridden. Ross (1930, Chapter 2) held that all moral
precepts can be overridden in particular circumstances. This provides
an inviting framework for opponents of dilemmas to adopt. But if some
moral requirements cannot be overridden--if they hold
absolutely--then it will be easier for supporters of dilemmas to
make their case. Lisa Tessman has distinguished between negotiable and
non-negotiable moral requirements (Tessman 2015, especially Chapters 1
and 3). The former, if not satisfied, can be adequately compensated or
counterbalanced by some other good. Non-negotiable moral requirements,
however, if violated produce a cost that no one should have to bear;
such a violation cannot be counterbalanced by any benefits. If
non-negotiable moral requirements can conflict--and Tessman
argues that they can--then those situations will be genuine
dilemmas and agents facing them will inevitably fail morally. It might
seem that if there is more than one moral precept that holds
absolutely, then moral dilemmas must be possible. Alan Donagan,
however, argues against this. He maintains that moral rules hold
absolutely, and apparent exceptions are accounted for because tacit
conditions are built in to each moral rule (Donagan 1977, Chapters 3
and 6, especially 92-93). So even if some moral requirements
cannot be overridden, the existence of dilemmas may still be an open
question.



Another distinction is between *self-imposed* moral dilemmas
and dilemmas imposed on an agent *by the world*, as it were.
Conflicts of the former sort arise because of the agent's own
wrongdoing (Aquinas; Donagan 1977, 1984; and McConnell 1978). If an
agent made two promises that he knew conflicted, then through his own
actions he created a situation in which it is not possible for him to
discharge both of his requirements. Dilemmas imposed on the agent by
the world (or other agents), by contrast, do not arise because of the
agent's wrongdoing. The case of Sartre's student is an
example, as is the case from *Sophie's Choice*. For
supporters of dilemmas, this distinction is not all that important.
But among opponents of dilemmas, there is a disagreement about whether
the distinction is important. Some of these opponents hold that
self-imposed dilemmas are possible, but that their existence does not
point to any deep flaws in moral theory (Donagan 1977, Chapter 5).
Moral theory tells agents how they ought to behave; but if agents
violate moral norms, of course things can go askew. Other opponents
deny that even self-imposed dilemmas are possible. They argue that an
adequate moral theory should tell agents what they ought to do in
their current circumstances, regardless of how those circumstances
arose. As Hill puts it, "[M]orality acknowledges that human
beings are imperfect and often guilty, but it calls upon each at every
new moment of moral deliberation to decide conscientiously and to act
rightly from that point on" (Hill 1996, 176). Given the
prevalence of wrongdoing, if a moral theory did not issue uniquely
action-guiding "contrary-to-duty imperatives," its
practical import would be limited. 



Yet another distinction is between *obligation dilemmas* and
*prohibition dilemmas*. The former are situations in which more
than one feasible action is obligatory. The latter involve cases in
which all feasible actions are forbidden. Some (especially, Valentyne
1987 and 1989) argue that plausible principles of deontic logic may
well render obligation dilemmas impossible; but they do not preclude
the possibility of prohibition dilemmas. The case of Sartre's
student, if genuinely dilemmatic, is an obligation dilemma;
Sophie's case is a prohibition dilemma. There is another reason
that friends of dilemmas emphasize this distinction. Some think that
the "disjunctive solution" used by opponents of
dilemmas--when equally strong precepts conflict, the agent is
required to act on one or the other--is more plausible when
applied to obligation dilemmas than when applied to prohibition
dilemmas.



As moral dilemmas are typically described, they involve a *single
agent*. The agent ought, all things considered, to do \(A\),
ought, all things considered, to do \(B\), and she cannot do both
\(A\) and \(B\). But we can distinguish *multi-person* dilemmas
from single agent ones. The two-person case is representative of
multi-person dilemmas. The situation is such that one agent, P1, ought
to do \(A\), a second agent, P2, ought to do \(B\), and though each
agent can do what he ought to do, it is not possible both for P1 to do
\(A\) and P2 to do \(B\). (See Marcus 1980, 122 and McConnell 1988.)
Multi-person dilemmas have been called "interpersonal moral
conflicts." Such conflicts are most theoretically worrisome if
the same moral system (or theory) generates the conflicting
obligations for P1 and P2. A theory that precludes single-agent moral
dilemmas remains uniquely action-guiding for each agent. But if that
same theory does not preclude the possibility of interpersonal moral
conflicts, not all agents will be able to succeed in discharging their
obligations, no matter how well-motivated or how hard they try. For
supporters of moral dilemmas, this distinction is not all that
important. They no doubt welcome (theoretically) more types of
dilemmas, since that may make their case more persuasive. But if they
establish the reality of single-agent dilemmas, in one sense their
work is done. For opponents of dilemmas, however, the distinction may
be important. This is because at least some opponents believe that the
conceptual argument against dilemmas applies principally to
single-agent cases. It does so because the ought-to-do operator of
deontic logic and the accompanying principles are properly understood
to apply to entities who can make decisions. To be clear, this
position does not preclude that collectives (such as businesses or
nations) can have obligations. But a necessary condition for this
being the case is that there is (or should be) a central deliberative
standpoint from which decisions are made. This condition is not
satisfied when two otherwise unrelated agents happen to have
obligations both of which cannot be discharged. Put simply, while an
individual act involving one agent can be the object of choice, a
compound act involving multiple agents is difficult so to conceive.
(See Smith 1986 and Thomason 1981.) Alexander Dietz (2022) has
recently shown, however, that matters can be even more complicated. He
describes a case where a small group of people have an obligation to
save two strangers, but one of the members of the group has an
obligation to save her own child at the same time. The small group and
the individual can both make choices, and the group's obligation
conflicts with that of the individual member (assuming that the group
can succeed only if all members act in concert). This is an odd
multi-agent dilemma, "one in which one of the agents is part of
the other" (Dietz 2022, p. 66). Erin Taylor (2011) has argued
that neither universalizability nor the principle that
'ought' implies 'can' ensure that there will
be no interpersonal moral conflicts (what she calls
"irreconcilable differences"). These conflicts would raise
no difficulties if morality required trying rather than acting, but
such a view is not plausible. Still, moral theories should minimize
cases of interpersonal conflict (Taylor 2011, pp. 189-190).To
the extent that the possibility of interpersonal moral conflicts
raises an intramural dispute among opponents of dilemmas, that dispute
concerns how to understand the principles of deontic logic and what
can reasonably be demanded of moral theories.


## 8. Multiple Moralities



Another issue raised by the topic of moral dilemmas is the
relationship among various aspects of morality. Consider this
distinction. General obligations are moral requirements that
individuals have simply because they are moral agents. That agents are
required not to kill, not to steal, and not to assault are examples of
general obligations. Agency alone makes these precepts applicable to
individuals. By contrast, role-related obligations are moral
requirements that agents have in virtue of their role, occupation, or
position in society. That lifeguards are required to save swimmers in
distress is a role-related obligation. Another example, mentioned
earlier, is the obligation of a defense attorney to hold in confidence
the disclosures made by a client. These categories need not be
exclusive. It is likely that anyone who is in a position to do so
ought to save a drowning person. And if a person has particularly
sensitive information about another, she should probably not reveal it
to third parties regardless of how the information was obtained. But
lifeguards have obligations to help swimmers in distress when most
others do not because of their abilities and contractual commitments.
And lawyers have special obligations of confidentiality to their
clients because of implicit promises and the need to maintain
trust.



General obligations and role-related obligations can, and sometimes
do, conflict. If a defense attorney knows the whereabouts of a
deceased body, she may have a general obligation to reveal this
information to family members of the deceased. But if she obtained
this information from her client, the role-related obligation of
confidentiality prohibits her from sharing it with others. Supporters
of dilemmas may regard conflicts of this sort as just another
confirmation of their thesis. Opponents of dilemmas will have to hold
that one of the conflicting obligations takes priority. The latter
task could be discharged if it were shown that one these two types of
obligations always prevails over the other. But such a claim is
implausible; for it seems that in some cases of conflict general
obligations are stronger, while in other cases role-related duties
take priority. The case seems to be made even better for supporters of
dilemmas, and worse for opponents, when we consider that the same
agent can occupy multiple roles that create conflicting requirements.
The physician, Harvey Kelekian, in Margaret Edson's (1999/1993)
Pulitzer Prize winning play, Wit, is an oncologist, a medical
researcher, and a teacher of residents. The obligations generated by
those roles lead Dr. Kelekian to treat his patient, Vivian Bearing, in
ways that seem morally questionable (McConnell 2009). At first blush,
anyway, it does not seem possible for Kelekian to discharge all of the
obligations associated with these various roles.



In the context of issues raised by the possibility of moral dilemmas,
the role most frequently discussed is that of the political actor.
Michael Walzer (1973) claims that the political ruler, qua political
ruler, ought to do what is best for the state; that is his principal
role-related obligation. But he also ought to abide by the general
obligations incumbent on all. Sometimes the political actor's
role-related obligations require him to do evil--that is, to
violate some general obligations. Among the examples given by Walzer
are making a deal with a dishonest ward boss (necessary to get elected
so that he can do good) and authorizing the torture of a person in
order to uncover a plot to bomb a public building. Since each of these
requirements is binding, Walzer believes that the politician faces a
genuine moral dilemma, though, strangely, he also thinks that the
politician should choose the good of the community rather than abide
by the general moral norms. (The issue here is whether supporters of
dilemmas can meaningfully talk about action-guidance in genuinely
dilemmatic situations. For one who answers this in the affirmative,
see Tessman 2015, especially Chapter 5.) Such a situation is sometimes
called "the dirty hands problem." The expression,
"dirty hands," is taken from the title of a play by Sartre
(1946). The idea is that no one can rule without becoming morally
tainted. The role itself is fraught with moral dilemmas. This topic
has received much attention recently. John Parrish (2007) has provided
a detailed history of how philosophers from Plato to Adam Smith have
dealt with the issue. And C.A.J. Coady (2008) has suggested that this
reveals a "messy morality."



For opponents of moral dilemmas, the problem of dirty hands represents
both a challenge and an opportunity. The challenge is to show how
conflicts between general obligations and role-related obligations,
and those among the various role-related obligations, can be resolved
in a principled way. The opportunity for theories that purport to have
the resources to eliminate dilemmas--such as Kantianism,
utilitarianism, and intuitionism--is to show how the many
moralities under which people are governed are related.


## 9. Conclusion



Debates about moral dilemmas have been extensive during the last six
decades. These debates go to the heart of moral theory. Both
supporters and opponents of moral dilemmas have major burdens to bear.
Opponents of dilemmas must show why appearances are deceiving. Why are
examples of apparent dilemmas misleading? Why are certain moral
emotions appropriate if the agent has done no wrong? Supporters must
show why several of many apparently plausible principles should be
given up--principles such as PC, PD, OP, D, 'ought'
implies 'can', and the agglomeration principle. And each
side must provide a general account of obligations, explaining whether
none, some, or all can be overridden in particular circumstances. Much
progress has been made, but the debate is apt to continue.