## 1. Ross's Life



William David Ross was born on 15 April 1877 in Thurso, Scotland. He
spent the bulk of the first six years of his life in Travancore,
India, where his father, John Ross, was the Principal of the
Maharaja's College. He received his formal education in
Scotland, where he attended the Royal High School in Edinburgh and
Edinburgh University. In 1895, Ross graduated from the latter with
first-class honours in classics. He then entered Balliol College,
Oxford, where he obtained first-class honours in classical honour
moderations in 1898 and in *literae humaniores* in 1900. He was
then appointed lecturer at Oriel College, Oxford and at the same time
he was elected to a fellowship by examination at Merton College. In
1902, he dropped the latter when he was elected tutor in philosophy
and fellow at Oriel College, a position which he held until 1929.



In 1915, Ross joined the army. When World War I ended he was Deputy
Assistant Secretary in the Ministry of Munitions, with the rank of
Major. He left the army with an OBE. Following the war, he remained
for some time in public service on a part-time basis; for his efforts
he was made a KBE in 1938. From 1923 to 1928 he was the Deputy
White's Professor of Moral Philosophy while John Alexander
Stewart was ill. When the position became vacant in 1927, Ross refused
to stand because (among other reasons) he thought his colleague H. A.
Prichard a better moral philosopher (and better 'philosopher
generally') and he preferred 'working on metaphysics,
ancient and the most modern' (Clark 1971, 534). Two years later,
in 1929, he became Provost of Oriel College, a position he held until
he retired in 1947. In 1927, he was elected Fellow of the British
Academy, and he served as its president from 1936 to 1940. During this
time, he played a role in helping foreign scholars fleeing central
Europe. In World War II he played an essential role in public service,
serving on an Appeal Tribunal for Conscientious Objectors from 1940 to
1941 and on the National Arbitration Tribunal from 1941 to 1952. He
served as Vice-Chancellor of Oxford from 1941 to 1944. Following the
war, in 1947, he became President of the Union Academique
Internationale, and, until 1949, the Chairman of the Royal Commission
on the Press. In his retirement Ross continued his work in philosophy.
He died in Oxford on 5 May 1971.



Ross's contributions to university administration and to public
service were of no small importance. But it is for his work in
philosophy that he is best known. He made contributions to ancient
philosophy and to moral philosophy. In his lifetime, Ross was
considered a major figure in the study of Aristotle (Wiggins 2004). He
was the General Editor of the Oxford Aristotle translation series,
first with J. A. Smith and then alone; to this series he contributed
translations of Aristotle's *Metaphysics* and his
*Nicomachean Ethics*. Ross edited a number of Aristotle's
works in Greek for the Oxford Classical Texts series, including
*Rhetoric*, *Physics*, *De Anima*, and
*Politics*, and he produced editions of the
*Metaphysics*, *Physics*, *Parva Naturalia*,
*Analytics* and *De Anima* with long introductions and
detailed commentaries. In addition, he produced two monographs,
*Aristotle* and *Plato's Theory of Ideas*. In
moral philosophy, Ross's most important contributions are
expressed in his books *The Right and the Good* and
*Foundations of Ethics.* To these he added a handful of journal
articles, a critical commentary on Immanuel Kant's
*Groundwork*, *Kant's Ethical Theory*, and a
chapter on Aristotle's ethics in *Aristotle*.



In the introduction to the sixth edition of Ross's
*Aristotle*, J. L. Ackrill remarks Ross 'made his mark in
public life and as a university teacher and administrator, and he
wrote influential books on ethics. But it is as the leading
Aristotelian of the first half of the century that he will be most
remembered' (AT ix). There is certainly no denying Ross was one
of the most influential Aristotelians of the twentieth century.
Although some of Ross's translations of Aristotle now have
formidable competitors, they are still held in high regard. His
editions of Aristotle's texts with commentaries continue to be
an important source for scholars working in ancient philosophy. This
should not, however, lead to overlooking Ross's impact on moral
philosophy. Although Ross received rather short shrift from moral
philosophers in the last century (e.g., Raphael 1981; Rawls 1971;
Warnock 1960 ), his ethical outlook is now considered a serious
contender and in recent years many of Ross's moral and
meta-ethical doctrines have received sustained attention and (in some
cases) defence (see, e.g., Audi 1996, 2004; Dancy 2004; Gaut 2002;
Hurka 2004, 2014; McNaughton 1988, 1996; Parfit 2011; Phillips 2019;
Shaver 2007, 2014; Stratton-Lake 2002a, 2002b, 2011a, 2011b). It is
reasonable, then, to say Ross will be remembered for his work in
ancient philosophy and his work in moral philosophy.


## 2. The Data of Ethics



Ross attempts to develop an ethical framework that is faithful to and
reflects the central 'moral convictions of thoughtful and
well-educated people' (RG 41; FE 1-5). These convictions
constitute, for Ross, "the data of ethics just as
sense-perceptions are the data of a natural science" (RG 41). At
least some of these moral convictions, Ross thinks, constitute
knowledge the philosopher neither proves nor disproves (RG
20-21n1, 40). An ethical theory should not, Ross contends,
repudiate these convictions - these facts - in an effort
to simplify or systematize our moral thinking (RG 19, 40; FE 5,
83).



On the face of it, Ross is at odds with moral philosophers like Henry
Sidgwick who take the systematization and correction of common-sense
morality as one of the main roles of ethical theorizing (Sidgwick
1907: 77). Sidgwick, for example, holds that "the philosopher
seeks unity of principle, and consistency of method" (even if
this leads to revision of common-sense thinking) (Sidgwick 1907, 6)
and that the role of the moral philosopher is to 'enunciate, in
full breadth and clearness, those primary intuitions of Reason, by the
scientific application of which the common moral thought of mankind
may be at once systematised and corrected' (Sidgwick 1907,
373-74).



Ross does, of course, acknowledge errors exist in our moral thinking.
Indeed, it is, he says, 'a mistake to assume that all . . .
[our] convictions are true, or even that they are all consistent;
still more, to assume they are all clear' (FE 1). Like some
sense perceptions in science, he says, some of our moral convictions
may have to be discarded as illusory (RG 41). They are not discarded
at the behest of a theory. Instead, they are to be rejected, Ross
says, 'only when they are in conflict with other convictions
which stand better the test of reflection' (RG 41). The aim of
moral philosophy is to compare our moral convictions with each other,
'and to study them in themselves, with a view to seeing which
best survive such examination, and which must be rejected either
because in themselves they are ill-grounded, or because they
contradict other convictions that are better grounded; and to clear
up, so far as we can, ambiguities that lurk in them' (FE 1; also
FE 2-3, 190). 



Ross suggests most errors in our moral thinking concern *media
axiomata* - or middle principles or rules - rather
than fundamental moral principles (FE 190; RG 20-21n1). However, he
seems at times to consider reflective inquiry with the potential for
revisions of a more radical nature. He suggests, for example, inquiry
into the 'historical origin of...[our moral] beliefs and
practices' may show 'the most strongly felt repulsions
towards certain types of conduct are relics of a bygone system of
totems and fetishes, their connexion with which is little suspected by
those who feel them' (RG 13). An inquiry of this kind may lead
to significant revision of even aspects of moral thinking thought to
be fundamental (Singer 2005). 



Moreover, Ross at times suggests he aims to reflect the views of the
'thoughtful and well-educated' (RG 41) or, what comes to
the same thing, what 'we' think (RG 40; FE 102, 104, 134,
172). But at other times he says he aims to reflect the views of the
'plain man' (RG 17, 20-21n1, 28, 57; FE 186, 187,
188; KT 31). If the views of the thoughtful and well-educated and the
plain man are distinct, and Ross inclines (with some justification)
toward the former rather than the latter, his approach to moral
theorising may be closer on the matter of reform (though not of
system) to Sidgwick's (which, to be clear, emphasises what we
think on reflection and the consensus of experts (Sidgwick 1907,
338-343)). This may cause Ross trouble. He faults rival moral views
for conflicting with what 'plain men' think about ethics.
If he is open to substantially revising the plain person's
views, he may weaken his case against rivals.



In any case, the novelty of Ross's moral outlook and its fit
with what the plain person thinks will emerge only once its content is
fully specified. About the data Ross seeks to clarify and honour, a
number of questions emerge. What is its precise content? How is it
known? What is its metaphysical status? Together with his fidelity to
reflective moral attitudes, Ross's answers to these questions
constitute his unique contribution to moral philosophy.


## 3. Ross's Rejection of Kant's Deontology and Ideal Utilitarianism



Ross rejects Kantian deontology and ideal utilitarianism (his main
opponent). Ross complains that each of his rivals
'over-simplifies the moral life' (FE 189). They fail to
capture at least some of the moral attitudes constituting the
knowledge the philosopher neither proves nor disproves (RG
20-21n1).



Kant over-simplifies the moral life in a number of ways. Ross thinks
the clearest case of oversimplification is Kant's commitment to
exceptionless moral principles (RG 18-19; FE 313, 134, 173; KT 24,
95). Kant maintains lying is always wrong (Kant 1785, 1797). It
cannot, he says, serve as a universal law that one may lie to avoid
some difficulty or harm (either to oneself or to another). As soon as
lying in such cases is such a law it is impossible to benefit by
lying, for everyone will be wise to the fact people lie in such cases.
Ross disagrees. In line with common sense, he thinks it is permissible
to lie in some contexts (RG 28), e.g., when the (net) benefit of lying
significantly outweighs the cost as would be true of a case in which
one lies to prevent a friend from being killed by a would-be murderer
inquiring about one's friend's whereabouts (KT 31-32; for
Kant's discussion of the case of the inquiring murderer, see
Kant 1797). Ross holds the oversimplification results in part from
Kant thinking 'the rightness or wrongness of an individual act
can be inferred with certainty from its falling or not falling under a
rule capable of being universalised' (FE 189; also KT 25).
Kant's abstract way of ethical reasoning involves neglecting
factors relevant to figuring out what we should do (KT 33-34; FE
189).



Kant oversimplifies the moral life in another way. He says only the
motive to do what is morally required because it is morally required
possesses *moral* worth (Kant 1785). Ross contends other
motives have moral worth, including 'direct devotion to another
person or other persons' (KT 3). Returning favours to loved ones
because you love them and not because you think you ought has moral
value. It is closer to common sense to think moral life is not a
'contest between one element which alone has worth [i.e., the
motive to do what is right because it is right] and a multitude of
others which have none; the truth rather is that it is a struggle
between a multiplicity of desires having various degrees of
worth' (FE 206; also KT 3, 18, 93).



The ideal utilitarians Hastings Rashdall and G. E. Moore maintain an
individual acts rightly in so far as their act produces at least as
much surplus general good as any other act they could have performed
in their situation (Moore 1903, 1912; Rashdall 1907, 1913; for
detailed discussion of ideal utilitarianism, see Skelton 2011, 2013b).
Ross holds ideal utilitarians guilty of distorting or oversimplifying
moral life in a number of ways.



First, the view assumes, he says, there is a 'general character
which makes right acts right', that of maximising a plurality of
intrinsic goods (RG 16). By presupposing there is only one basic or
underived obligation ideal utilitarianism distorts our understanding
of moral deliberation. For example, when deciding whether to fulfil a
promise we think much more of the fact that in the past we have made a
promise than of the consequences its fulfilment promotes (RG 17; Ross
1931, 68). Our common-sense moral thinking includes the idea that what
we ought to do depends in part on retrospective considerations, e.g.,
that we have made a promise in the past or previously incurred a
debt.



Second, the view says the only morally salient relation 'in
which my neighbours stand to me is that of being possible
beneficiaries by my action' (RG 19; OJ 125). But we stand in
relations of all kinds to other people, including that of creditor to
debtor, child to parent and friend to friend, and they matter in
themselves to what we are permitted or ought to do. You ought, for
instance, to pay your debts before donating to charities even if
giving priority to your debts fails to maximise surplus value.



Ross's moral theory reinvigorated select doctrines defended by
the eighteenth-century moralists Joseph Butler and (it seems) Richard
Price. Ross revived the anti-utilitarian arguments in Butler's
*A Dissertation of the Nature of Virtue* (Butler 1736, 139-140)
and in Price's *A Review of the Principal Questions in
Morals* (especially Price 1787, 79ff., 131-176). H. A. Prichard
(Prichard 1912, 1932) and Moore (Moore 1903, 1912) were Ross's
most important contemporary influences. Ross found Prichard's
defense of a plurality of moral obligations and of the complexity of
moral decision making alluring. Ross rejected Moore's
utilitarianism, but he sympathised with Moore's methodology for
soliciting intuitions about goodness and with some of his views about
intrinsic value and moral semantics. Finally, Ross could not help
being influenced by Aristotle. He was in particular impressed with
Aristotle's methodology and his appeal to the many and the
wise.


## 4. Ross's Distinctive Moral Framework: The Right and the Good



In a review of *Foundations of Ethics*, C. D. Broad writes
*The Right and the Good* was 'much the most important
contribution to ethical theory made in England for a generation'
(Broad 1940, 228). The best explanation of Broad's praise is the
book clarifies and defends a novel form of deontology, according to
which there are a plurality of moral requirements and non-instrumental
goods. No one master principle explains why the particular things we
believe are wrong/right are in fact wrong/right. Instead, there exist
a number of basic, defeasible moral principles resisting reduction to
some more fundamental principle. These principles are relied upon in
making decisions about what we ought to do, though there is no sense
in which we deduce what we ought to do from principles. No one
non-instrumental good/evil explains why the particular things we think
are good/evil are in fact good/evil. Instead, there exist a number of
non-instrumental goods which cannot be reduced to some more
fundamental non-instrumental good. These goods are appealed to in
making decisions about the goodness or badness of a state of affairs
all things considered, though there is no sense in which this is
deduced from these claims. Ross's clearheaded and forceful
expression of this view makes his work of lasting philosophical
significance.


### 4.1 The Right



Ross subscribes to five underivative or foundational duties (Hurka
2014; McNaughton 1996; Phillips 2019; Pickard-Cambridge 1932b;
Stratton-Lake 2002a, 2011a; cf. Jack 1971):


1. A duty of *fidelity*, that is, a duty to keep our promises
(RG 21; FE 76-77; KT 21);
2. A duty of *reparation*, that is, a duty to correct a
previous wrong we have done (RG 21; FE 76; KT 21);
3. A duty of *gratitude*, that is, a duty to return services
to those from whom we have in the past accepted benefits (RG 21; FE
76; KT 21);
4. A duty of *beneficence*, that is, a duty to maximise
aggregate or general good (RG 25, 27, 30, 39; FE 67, 99, 130, 252,
257, 271, 313; KT 21); and finally
5. A duty of *non-maleficence*, that is, a duty not to harm or
injure others (RG 21-22, 26; FE 75, 130n1, 272).



Ross's major innovation involves characterising these as
*prima facie* duties rather than *absolute* or
*exceptionless* duties. The notion of a *prima facie*
duty may not be easy to grasp. Ross himself admits '*prima
facie*' is an unfortunate phrase to use to specify what he
has in mind, for two reasons (RG 20; FE 84-85).



First, although he says there exist five basic *prima facie*
duties, what he is referring to are *not* really duties (RG 20;
FE 84-85). *Prima facie* duties do not state our actual
obligation or duty proper - the thing we ultimately ought do
- in a particular situation (RG 20). Instead, each duty rests on
a separate and distinct ground and specifies a consideration counting
in favour of or against an act or what to set ourselves to do, morally
speaking.[1] As
David Phillips puts it, '[t]he characteristic of being a prima
facie duty is the characteristic of having a certain degree of
obligatoriness or weight in virtue of being of a single morally
significant kind' (2019, 23). For example, that an act fails to
fulfil a promise counts against it being right, and that an act
produces the most surplus good counts in favour of it being morally
right. Considerations of this sort have to be weighed and balanced
against each other in deciding what we ought to do all things
considered or simpliciter.



Second, using the phrase suggests the duties only appear to be duties
that further reflection may reveal to be illusory. This is not
Ross's view: the considerations his duties point to are
objective facts present in a situation (RG 20; FE 85). If you have
wronged someone in the past, it is an objective fact of your situation
that there is a consideration in favour of you compensating them for
the harm.



There are numerous ways the idea of a *prima facie* duty might
be further clarified. One way, suggested by Ross, is to think of a
*prima facie* duty as constituting a *tendency* to be
morally right or wrong (RG 28; FE 86). An act promoting general good
has, for example, a tendency to be morally right and to contribute to
determining our actual obligation (Hurka 2014, 72). A second way, also
suggested by Ross, is to think of a *prima facie* duty as
comprising a responsibility (FE 85). Repairing one's past wrongs
is something for which one has a responsibility, for instance, and
this contributes to determining one's actual obligation or
responsibility. A third (controversial) way of explicating the idea is
to think of a *prima facie* duty as constituting a *moral
reason* for or against an act (Cowan 2017, 825; Olsen 2014, 64-65,
2015: 8; Shaver 2014, 314n24; Stratton-Lake 2002a, xxxiii-xxxviii,
2011a, 147-48, though cf. 2019). If my act will harm or injure another
person, I have a moral reason not to do it given the duty of
non-maleficence, and this reason contributes to determining my actual
obligation. A fourth (more controversial still) way of clarifying the
idea of a *prima facie* duty is to think of it as constituting
a *reason* (sans phrase) in favour of or against an act
(Phillips 2019, 26-37; Shaver 2011, 144). Ross himself used the
language of reasons to explicate the idea of a *prima facie*
duty. He says, for example, 'the fact that a promise has been
made itself constitutes a reason why it should be fulfilled' (KT
21). These reasons contribute to determining my actual obligation or
what I have actual reason to do.



The idea of a *prima facie* duty or obligation had not been
fully clarified before Ross, either by defenders of deontological
theories (though see Price 1787, 152, 167, 168 and Prichard 2002,
77-83) or their critics (including Moore 1903, 1912; Rashdall 1907,
1913; and Sidgwick 1907). Ross's introduction of the notion of a
*prima facie* obligation constitutes a major advance in the
dispute between utilitarians and non-utilitarians. It paved the way
for a moderate deontology. Ross's innovation is crucial to
avoiding cases thought problematic for absolute deontology in which
obligations conflict and one is unable to avoid doing what is all
things considered wrong (FE 83-86).



Ross's five basic principles contribute to explaining other,
non-basic moral considerations. The duty not to lie has two sources.
Ross thinks you ought not lie because, in line with the duty of
non-maleficence, to 'tell lies is *prima facie* to do a
positive injury to another person' (RG 55) and because, in line
with the duty of fidelity, when you enter into a conversation there is
an implicit promise or understanding 'language shall be used to
convey the real opinions of . . . speakers' (RG 54; also 21; FE
97). The obligation to obey the laws of one's country is
explained by the obligations of gratitude, fidelity and beneficence
(RG 27). If one has benefitted from the laws of one's country
one ought to obey those out of gratitude for the benefit; if one has
remained in a country in which one knows one is expected to obey the
laws and one has relied on them for benefit, one has (at least
implicitly) promised to obey them and should do so for that reason; if
one's country's laws work to promote the general good, one
ought to obey them as part of promoting general good (RG 27-28).



Ross does not think the five duties are of equal initial weight. The
duty of non-maleficence is weightier than the duty to promote a
maximum of aggregate good (RG 21, 22; FE 75, 130n1). He writes:
'We think the principle 'do evil to no one' more
pressing than the principle 'do good to every one', except
when the evil is very substantially outweighed by the good' (FE
75). It takes substantial (net) benefit to justify intentionally
harming someone. It would be wrong to harm someone to promote only a
marginal (net) benefit (contra utilitarianism).



Ross suggests in addition the duties of fidelity, reparation, and
gratitude are in general weightier than the duty to promote general
good (RG 19, 30, 41-42; FE 77, 76, 90, 187). It takes
substantial (net) surplus value to justify begging off on one of these
duties (RG 34-35). Unlike the duty to promote general good, the duties
of fidelity, reparation and gratitude rest on personal relations with
others, generating special rather than general duties (FE 76, 186). It
is important to Ross that we can stand in the obligation-generating
relations 'of promisee to promiser, of creditor to debtor, of
wife to husband, of child to parent, of friend to friend, of fellow
countryman to fellow countryman, and the like' (RG 19; also 22;
FE 76; OJ 124, 126). The duties core to these relationships are in
general weightier than the more general duty to promote the general
good. Rival views, as noted, ignore these morally significant
relations, or the 'highly personal character of duty', at
their peril (RG 22). Finally, although he does not say it, his view
would surely be the duty of non-maleficence is weightier than the
duties of reparation, gratitude, and fidelity: it is (unless much is
at stake) wrong to harm others in order to fulfil these duties.



Ross's introduction of a *prima facie* duty makes for
complicated moral decision making. One way to further clarify the
structure of Ross's view is to examine what he says about what
he calls duty proper or our actual duty (RG 41). Suppose you've
agreed to meet a friend for coffee. On the way to meet your friend,
you witness an accident with several victims. You have taken first-aid
courses and are able to provide the accident victims with life-saving
treatment until the paramedics arrive. If you assist the accident
victims, you will not be able to meet your friend; if you meet your
friend, you will not be able to help the accident victims. So, you
either break your promise or you benefit the accident victims. What is
your actual obligation in this (simple) case?



Ross thinks right acts or our actual obligations have 'the
greatest balance of *prima facie*, rightness, in those respects
in which they are *prima facie* right, over their *prima
facie* wrongness, in those respects in which they are *prima
facie* wrong' (RG 41; FE 85). In order to figure out which,
of the acts open to you, has the greatest balance of *prima
facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness you have to
look at all the acts open to you and determine all the ways in which
they are *prima facie* right and all the ways in which they are
*prima facie* wrong and then figure out in each case the
balance of *prima facie* rightness over *prima facie*
wrongness or vice versa (whichever the case may be). You then compare
the acts open to you in terms of their balance of overall
*prima facie* rightness. The act with the greatest balance of
overall *prima facie* rightness is the one you ought all things
considered to do and what you ought all things considered to do is
your duty proper (for detailed discussion, see Hurka 2014, 69-78;
Olsen 2014; Phillips 2019, 17-26).



In the simple case you look at the two acts open to you: meet your
friend or aid the accident victims. Meeting your friend is *prima
facie* right because it comprises keeping your promise, but
*prima facie* wrong because it involves failing to maximise
general good (in your circumstances). Helping the accident victims is
wrong to the extent it involves breaking a promise, but right because
it involves benefitting the victims. Ross says while there are no
general rules '[f]or the estimation of the comparative
stringency of . . . *prima facie* obligations' (RG 41),
his judgement is on reflection saving the accident victims is
weightier than keeping your promise (RG 18), in which case, of the two
acts, aiding the accident victims has on balance more *prima
facie* rightness. Helping the accident victims is, then, all
things considered, what you ought to do and therefore it is the right
act - your actual duty - of those open to you.



It is not entirely clear what Ross thinks of the relationship between
*prima face* duties and duty proper. In RG, Ross
suggests that the notion of our actual duty or duty proper is basic
and that the notion of a *prima facie* duty could be defined in
terms of it. So in the simple case discussed above Ross claimed that
our actual duty was to help the accident victims and that *prima
facie* duties could be defined in terms of contributing to or
potentially explaining why it is our duty proper. In this case, the
idea of a *prima facie* duty and our actual duty are not in the
end distinct (Hurka 2014, 75). 



He seemed to change his mind about this in FE, where following Broad,
he took the idea of a *prima facie* duty to be basic and he
understood it in terms of fittingness to some aspect of a situation
(FE 79-82, 84; Broad 1930, 218-220). In the simple case above, keeping
your promise to your friend is a *prima facie* duty as it is
fitting to one aspect of the situation and benefitting the accident
victims is another *prima facie* duty as it is fitting to
another aspect of the situation. It is not entirely clear whether in
FE Ross relied on to the concept of duty proper or instead whether he
relied on the idea of duty all things considered (Hurka 2014,
74-75). In any case, Ross's view in FE is that we can
understand *prima face* duty independently of the notion duty
all things considered and we can define or understand the latter in
terms of the former. 



Ross's pluralism faces attack from two opposing camps, from
those who think there are fewer than five basic responsibilities and
from those who think there are more. Ross intimates his list is the
best representation of the *core* commitments of common-sense
morality (RG 20; FE 190). He is sanguine we have these
responsibilities. He says, for example, 'the existence of an
obligation arising from the making of a promise is so axiomatic that
no moral universe can be imagined in which it would not exist'
(FE 77; also KT 42). He is not entirely confident there exist only
five basic responsibilities. His list is offered 'without
claiming completeness or finality for it' (RG 20; also 23).



Ross is not hostile to the idea we might recognise a 'new
duty' in light of new circumstances (FE 189). However, he does
say 'the general principles which it [i.e., intuitionism]
regards as intuitively seen to be true are very few in number and very
general in character' (FE 190). He seems to think most disputes
about his list would revolve around what should be added rather than
what should be subtracted, since the responsibilities listed above are
'authentic' (RG 23), that is, responsibilities revealed
upon sober reflection. But if new circumstances can lead to the
recognition of new duties, why may they not lead to the recognition
there are fewer basic duties than we might otherwise have supposed?
This seems to be the nub of the issue between Ross and his ideal
utilitarian foes.



Ideal utilitarians and others are keen to argue that Ross's view
is problematic because it is not systematic enough. In *Some
Problems in Ethics*, H. W. B. Joseph suggested views like
Ross's go wrong, since 'our obligations are not a heap of
unrelated obligations' (Joseph 1931 92; also 67-68). Forty
years later, Rawls registered the same complaint: without some account
of how the plurality of normative principles are to be weighed against
one another using 'reasonable ethical criteria, the means of
rational discussion have come to an end. An intuitionist conception of
justice [and by extension ethics] is, one might say, but half a
conception' (Rawls 1971, 41).



Ross is moved in part by this sort of worry. He initially lists what
appear to be seven responsibilities, including a responsibility of
justice (a responsibility to bring about 'a distribution of
happiness between other people in proportion to merit' (RG 26,
21)) and a responsibility of self-improvement (a responsibility to
improve oneself in respect of virtue and knowledge (RG 21)). He argues
these can be subsumed by the responsibility 'that we should
produce as much good as possible' (RG 27; also 30; FE
288-89). His version of beneficence involves the promotion of as
much as possible of the four goods of pleasure, virtue, knowledge and
justice (RG 27, 154).



But Ross does not think that further contraction is warranted:
'[l]oyalty to the facts is worth more than a symmetrical
architectonic or a hastily reached simplicity' (RG 23; also FE
83; OJ 125). Indeed, his case against his ideal utilitarian foes
Moore, Rashdall, and Joseph is strong since they adopt a form of
*value* pluralism for similar reasons. In the context of
defending his value pluralism, Moore says we cannot assume the
'truth on any subject-matter will display such symmetry as we
desire to see . . . [t]o search for 'unity' or
'system' at the expense of truth, is not, I take it, the
proper business of philosophy' (Moore 1903, 222).



Ross has a further argument against Rawls. Rawls's theory
contains two principles of justice, lexically ordered. His first
principle outlining a set of basic rights takes priority over his
second principle outlining the correct distribution of social benefits
and burdens. Rawls does not think it is ever right to violate rights
in order to produce just distributions. This gets him a theory as
systematic as his classical average utilitarian rival and more
systematic than Ross's theory. But Ross can argue Rawls achieves
system at the expense of endorsing absolutism, which many acknowledge
to have counterintuitive results. Might gaining a massive benefit for
the least well off not justify a trivial rights violation? 



Ross hopes to show his view comprises the best representation of
common-sense morality or, as noted above, what 'we' think.
We might wonder whether this is the case. It is relatively clear most
hedonistic utilitarians are reformers of common-sense morality (e.g.,
Bentham 1789; Mill 1863, 1843; Sidgwick 1907). These philosophers may
not be moved (at the level of moral foundations) by claims their view
conflicts with common-sense morality. For their aim in part is to
revise it and make moral deliberation more systematic. Ross gives
hedonism short shrift because he thinks it obvious pleasure is not the
only intrinsic value (RG 17, 99; FE 65). He often argues ideal
utilitarianism, like hedonistic utilitarianism, can be dismissed
because it is at odds with common-sense morality (RG 17-19, 38;
FE 67ff.). Yet, it is far from clear ideal utilitarianism is reformist
like hedonistic or classical utilitarianism. The better way to
represent the dispute between ideal utilitarians and Ross is over
which view best represents common-sense moral thinking. It is
certainly true that the main proponents of ideal utilitarianism took
themselves to be aiming to provide the best representation of
common-sense morality (e.g., Rashdall 1907; Pickard-Cambridge 1932b,
152; Johnson 1953).



As Ross conducts it, the main dispute between the two revolves around
the issue of whether ideal utilitarians can make sense of the
obligation to keep one's promises. Ross's view is
'[t]o make a promise is not merely to adapt an ingenious device
for promoting the general well-being; it is to put oneself in a new
relation to one person in particular, a relation which creates a
specifically new *prima facie* duty to him, not reducible to
the duty of promoting the general well-being of society' (RG
38). (To clarify that Ross's target is ideal utilitarianism here
we have to substitute good for well-being as Ross does elsewhere (RG
34-36). Ideal utilitarians can agree with Ross's point as
stated. It might be true that promises are not a device for promoting
well-being but false they are not a device for promoting the good,
which is the point ideal utilitarians wish to make.)



Ross employs the following example to illustrate his initial case (RG
34-35). Suppose by fulfilling a promise to Edward you produce
100 units of (surplus) good for him, but by breaking the promise and
doing something else you have not promised to do you produce 101 units
of (surplus) good for James. The ideal utilitarian view entails it is
wrong to fulfil the promise: we must benefit James. But this is not
the verdict of common-sense morality. Ross says it takes a much
greater disparity in value between the two to justify breaking the
promise (RG 35; FE 77, 90).



In reply, the ideal utilitarian may try to capture the common-sense
verdict by noting breaking promises erodes mutual confidence and
keeping promises enhances mutual confidence (RG 38; FE 187). These
goods and evils tip the balance in favour of keeping the promise. Ross
frowns on this response. There will no doubt be cases, he says, where
all the benefits of breaking the promise will outweigh (though only
very slightly) all the costs associated with breaking it, and in this
case the ideal utilitarian will have to admit it is obligatory to
break the promise (RG 38). Ross thinks this is not the verdict of
common-sense morality.



Classical utilitarians might think in this case we should revise
common-sense morality. If after all is said and done, it is better to
break a promise, we should break it. They might insist that on sober
reflection common sense is mistaken and promises just are devices for
promoting well-being. Ideal utilitarians seem to opt for a different
strategy.



In an engaging set of essays, W. A. Pickard-Cambridge presses Ross on
the issue of whether ideal utilitarianism is actually as at odds with
common-sense morality as Ross suggests (Pickard-Cambridge 1932a,
1932b, 1932c). Pickard-Cambridge first argues there are strong direct
and indirect reasons for taking promises very seriously
(Pickard-Cambridge 1932b, 153-157). He argues further ideal
utilitarianism accounts better for our common-sense attitudes about
cases of the following kind:


1. Chuck has promised Peter he will replace a string on his violin by
4:00 pm tomorrow. Just before Chuck intends to fulfil the promise
Peter contracts an illness making it impossible for him ever to use
his violin. It appears Chuck is not bound to fulfil the promise. This
is the verdict of the plain man and the verdict of the ideal
utilitarian, but it is not the verdict entailed by Ross's view
(Pickard-Cambridge 1932b, 158).
2. A rich miser pretends to be a pauper in order to get Richard to
agree to pay him $100. Richard takes pity on him, and he agrees to pay
him the money in six months. Richard discovers a few months later
through newspapers reports the miser is a fraud. Richard has no reason
to fulfil the promise. Again, this is the verdict of the plain man and
the verdict of the ideal utilitarian, but it is not the verdict that
seems entailed by Ross's view (Pickard-Cambridge 1932b,
165-166).
3. A poor man contacts Anne via the Internet asking her to please pay
him $100.00 in six months. Anne agrees to give him the money. Three
months later, before Anne has paid the money, the poor man wins the
lottery and is rich. The ideal utilitarian says she is not bound to
fulfil the promise and the plain man agrees, but this is not
Ross's verdict (Pickard-Cambridge 1932b, 166).



In response to (1), Ross argues we must insist on 'some common
sense in the interpretation of the promise' (FE 94; also 95,
96). Both Peter and Chuck assume if by 3:00 Peter is rendered unable
ever to use his violin, the promise is null and void. But the ideal
utilitarian may say she can provide an interpretation of the promise
and that her interpretation and its explanation fit more easily with
common-sense morality. Peter and Chuck assume what they do because no
good would otherwise come from insisting on the promise being
fulfilled.



In reply to (2), Ross says the promise 'arose out of
conversation with the miser, which was conducted under the implied
contract to tell each other the truth' (FE 97). The miser lied.
Therefore, the promise is null and void. The difficulty with this
reply is for it to work Ross has to assume the implied contract
stipulates we are to tell each other the whole or all the truth. But
he may not be entitled to this assumption. It is not obvious that when
I sell you something I am required to tell you all the truths about
the item for sale. The ideal utilitarian is in a better position to
explain why in the case of the miser the implied contract to tell the
truth requires one not lie about being a beggar. The contract is
specified this way because it is beneficial for it to be so specified:
it is not in general beneficial to honour fraudulent promises.



In reply to (3), Ross contends, initially, if Anne has 'a very
delicate sense of honour', she ought to consider paying the poor
man on account of her carelessness in agreeing unconditionally in the
first place (FE 97). This is not plausible. There is no reason to
enrich an already rich person merely because of carelessness (of this
sort). Ross further argues what is promised is not that Anne pay
$100.00; rather, what is promised is she pay a poor man $100.00, and
since the man in question is no longer poor, there is therefore no
need to fulfil the promise (FE 97-98). But what drives this
interpretation of the promise? The ideal utilitarian may say the
reason we interpret the promise this way is doing so is on balance
beneficial. Furthermore, the ideal utilitarian can argue that even
without thinking of this interpretation of the promise we still
believe we have no or only very weak reasons to pay, and that they can
offer the best explanation of this fact. They can also explain why
this is (as Ross notes) a somewhat difficult issue to decide: there
are utilitarian reasons on either side.



Pickard-Cambridge further argues ideal utilitarianism provides the
best explanation of the strength of a promise (1932b, 159-163).
Ross agrees some promises are more binding than others. A promise to
visit a sick friend is stronger than the promise to attend the theatre
with friends (FE 100). He suggests the former is stronger because of
the value of what is being promised (FE 100). An explicit promise is
more binding than a casual promise and more recent promise is more
binding than an older promise. Ross says this is because the manner in
which and the time at which a promise has been made 'intensify
the promiser's awareness of its existence and the
promisee's expectation of its fulfilment' (FE 101). These
responses seem to play right into the hands of the ideal utilitarian:
the promise is more binding when more value is at stake and when the
promisee's expectations (and possible disappointment) are
greater, all of which are goods the ideal utilitarian claims we need
to balance in deciding what we ought all things considered to do.



Ross has one final reply to Pickard-Cambridge, using the following
example. *A* is dying. He entrusts his property to *B*,
on the strength of *B*'s promise to give it to
*C*. *C* does not know of *A*'s intentions
or *B*'s promise. *B*'s activities will not
disappoint *A* or *C*, nor will his activities
negatively impact the general mutual confidence. Suppose *D*
could make better use of the property than *C*. It follows on
ideal utilitarianism *B* ought to give the property to
*D*. Ross thinks this breach of trust 'outrageous'
(FE 105).



The version of ideal utilitarianism to which Pickard-Cambridge
subscribes seems to entail B has no reason to fulfil the promise to A.
This is a problem for the view. However, Ross's own view may
imply revision in this case, too. He says '[w]hen we consider
ourselves bound...to fulfil a promise, we think of the fulfilment
of the promise as the bringing into existence of some source of
pleasure or satisfaction for the person to whom we have made the
promise' (RG 162). This suggests the rightness of the promise
depends on it producing some pleasure or satisfaction for *A*.
But since *A* is dead when *B* fulfils the promise no
pleasure or satisfaction can be brought into existence for *A*,
implying that *B* has no obligation by Ross's lights to
fulfil the promise.



Of course, Ross might drop the requirement that the fulfilment of a
promise must produce pleasure for the promisee and suggest instead
only the fulfilment of a promise be 'bonific' for someone
(e.g., C) (RG 36; Ross 1928-29: 267-68). This seems to put him at odds
with the plain man in other cases, however. Consider a deathbed
promise with a different content, that *A* be buried with
*C*, his wife. Suppose this promise is not bonific. Ross will
have to say there is no reason to fulfil it (though perhaps he could
claim that fulfilling the promise is bonific since it satisfies
A's desire (Skelton 2013a)). Hence, he may have to advocate
revision to common-sense morality. Perhaps he can argue his revision
is more conservative than the revisions required by ideal
utilitarianism. But this is a very thin difference; it may not be
enough to give Ross the edge. Given these worries and the fact that
ideal utilitarianism seems quite close to the plain man or
common-sense morality in many of the other important cases, its
entailing it is right to break the promise in the initial case above
can hardly be considered a death blow.



The ideal utilitarian may not be satisfied with this outcome. Perhaps
the more appropriate route is not to opt for revision to common-sense
morality. For this may in the end give Ross a philosophical advantage,
especially if there is hope he can find satisfactory replies to
Pickard-Cambridge's objections. Instead, perhaps the better
strategy is to capture the importance of promise keeping to
common-sense morality by holding that keeping promises is
non-instrumentally good or at least that breaking a promise is
non-instrumentally bad (Brennan 1989; Ewing 1957, 1959; Johnson 1953,
1959; Shaver 2011). The general strategy is to subsume all of
Ross's non-utilitarian duties in this way. This is a compelling
response. To assess it, it is important to examine his theory of
value.



Before discussing Ross's theory of value, it is important to
note two other reactions to his list of duties.



Ross's foes are not alone in recommending fewer duties than he
allows. Some of Ross's fans advocate for reducing his initial
list of duties, too. Phillips, for example, agrees Ross holds, at
least initially, there are five foundational duties (Phillips 2019,
58-59). However, Phillips thinks the best account of Ross's view
involves jettisoning the *duty* of non-maleficence (the
responsibility not to harm or injure others) (Phillips 2019,
86-90).



Ross pays little attention to the duty of non-maleficence. His main
focus is his four other duties - fidelity, reparation, gratitude, and
beneficence - which have a similar structure. Each involves promoting
some good or goods (RG 162; 1928-9: 267-68). Phillips thinks at the
core of Ross's view is the notion of an agent-relative
intensifier. We have a general reason to promote various goods on
grounds of beneficence, and the duties of fidelity, reparation, and
gratitude function to *intensify* reasons to provide certain
goods to certain people (Phillips 2019, 67ff). So, for example, if I
can benefit a benefactor or a total stranger to the same degree, I
have more reason - the reason is more intense - to benefit my
benefactor because I have a responsibility of gratitude to them. The
duty of non-maleficence is not like this: it does not involve
promoting a good (Hurka 2014, 182-83; Phillips 2019, 86-87).



Phillips thinks there are good reasons to jettison the duty of
non-maleficence. Ross suggests the duty of non-maleficence in some way
constrains what we are permitted to do to promote general good. It is
not permissible, for example, to kill one person to prevent two other
people from being killed. Phillips thinks this leaves Ross susceptible
to the paradox of deontology, which says it is paradoxical to hold
someone's being harmed provides a consideration
*against*, say, torturing, but not a consideration
*favouring* acting to prevent people from being harmed, say, by
being tortured by someone else. The concern is: How can it be wrong to
harm one person when by harming one person one can prevent two other
people from being harmed?



Phillips does not abandon non-maleficence entirely. Instead, he
attempts to capture our intuitions about the distinctive badness of
harming or injuring by treating harming or injuring as a higher-level
evil, involving an unfitting attitude (willing or wanting) toward a
base-level evil (harming or injuring) (Phillips 2019, 89). It is
vicious to want to harm or injure someone, because harming or injuring
another person is bad. If we think of harming or injuring as a
higher-level evil we can, Phillips thinks, explain why harming is
worse than failing to benefit, since '[n]onbeneficence does not
necessarily involve any similar unfitting attitude' (Phillips
2019, 89), though Phillip's suggestion will not capture the idea
it is wrong to harm one person in order to prevent two from being
harmed.



Phillips's amendment may not recommend itself to Ross.
Jettisoning a requirement not to harm others involves giving up a
salient part of common-sense morality, involving the idea, as Ross
puts it, of a duty based on people possessing 'definite rights,
or at least claims, not to be made means to the giving of pleasure to
others; and claims that ought to be respected unless the net pleasure,
or good, to be gained for the community by other action is very
considerable' (FE 75). Phillip's suggestion may force us
to reconsider whether interpreting the duties of promise keeping,
reparation and gratitude as agent-relative intensifiers is right for
Ross.



In addition, it is far from clear Phillips has established harming is
a distinctive evil as compared with nonbeneficence. Phillips says
whereas harming or injuring involves the unfitting attitude of wanting
or aiming at a base bad (harm or injury), failure to benefit involves
no bad attitude and so is not as bad as harming (Phillips 2019, 89).
This may not be obvious. When I fail to benefit I am
*indifferent* to something good. This seems a wrong attitude to
have to a base good (benefits), making nonbeneficence no worse than
harming. Of course, it is possible this indifference is not
*necessarily* involved in nonbeneficence, in which case it
would not be as bad harming or injuring. But it is far from clear that
when I harm someone I *necessarily* will or desire injuring or
harming them, in which case harming would not be worse than
nonbeneficence. I might merely be aiming or willing benefits that my
harming produces (for these criticisms, see Shaver 2020, 508).



A different reaction to Ross's lists of duties is to argue it
includes too few responsibilities. Sidgwick famously claimed egoism
and utilitarianism represent coordinate but conflicting requirements
of rationality. On his view, we ought to maximise our own happiness
and maximise general happiness (Sidgwick 1907, 496-509). Sidgwick
thought it could not be proved to the egoist that their happiness was
not for them all important and so the egoist could not be rationally
converted to utilitarianism (Sidgwick 1907, 420). (Sidgwick did think
he could convert adherents of something like Ross's view to
utilitarianism (Sidgwick 1907, 337-361.)) In defending egoism,
Sidgwick endorsed the existence of non-derivative agent-relative
reasons. My good provides me with a special reason to promote my
happiness, a reason individuals other than me lack. These reasons
compete and (sometimes) conflict with the agent neutral reasons
provided by utilitarianism.



Channeling Sidgwick, Phillips argues Ross should admit agent-relative
reasons or intensifiers relating to one's own happiness.
Phillips thinks '[t]he fact that a pain will befall me rather
than someone else gives me a special extra reason to be concerned with
the pain - special extra reason that other people don't have.
Facts about personal identity, that is, are agent-relative
intensifiers of hedonic reasons' (Phillips 2019, 75). Many
philosophers agree (e.g., Butler 1736, 137, Price 1787, 148-151,
Parfit 2011, 131).



Ross does not think we have agent-relative moral reasons of this sort
because he does not think there is a *moral* duty to promote
one's own happiness. He says 'the act of seeking pleasure
for oneself is not merely not obligatory, but has not even the
specific kind of rightness or fitness which is moral fitness. It seems
morally entirely colourless' (FE 277; also 272, 282, 288; RG
151). We might agree it is it odd to say one has a moral duty to
promote one's own happiness (though see Shaver 2014, 213-18 for
discussion).



The difficulty is Ross seems to be of the view we have no reason
whatsoever to promote our own happiness (Parfit 2011, 372). He thinks
the only duties in existence are moral duties. This is hard to accept.
It does seem for many one's own happiness or one's own
unhappiness provides one with reasons or obligations, though not
necessarily moral reasons or obligations. (Phillips can easily
accommodate this thought since he holds the best way to understand
*prima facie* duties is in terms of reasons rather than moral
reasons or duties.)



Ross seems also to think we have no reason to avoid our own pain. This
comes out clearly in his characterisations of the duty of
non-maleficence. It comprises a duty not to injure
'others' (RG 21); the duty rests on the fact that
'if there are things that are bad in themselves we ought,
*prima facie*, not to bring them upon others' (RG 26). He
seems, then, to think while I have a *prima facie* duty not to
harm others, I have no such duty not to harm myself. It seems to
follow, then, it would not be morally wrong for me to impose a very
large pain on myself to avoid only a trivial pain for another. It
would not be wrong, then, for me to make myself a mere 'means to
the giving of pleasure to others' (FE 75). This is hard to
accept even if we accept Ross's view there exist only moral
duties. It seems morally wrong to use oneself in this way. And even if
we are convinced we lack a moral duty to prevent our own pain we are
very unlikely to be convinced we lack strong non-moral reason to
prevent it. Ross may have to modify his duty of non-maleficence to
accommodate this.



These are not the only additions to Ross's list one might
advocate. Curiously missing from Ross's list is a *prima
facie* duty of veracity. We might agree with him (*pace*
Kant) when the (net) benefits of lying are considerable we have an
obligation to lie, but disagree with his claim veracity is not a
foundational *prima facie* duty like fidelity and gratitude.
Ross does not give an argument for why there is no foundational
*prima facie* duty of veracity.



Ross's thought seems to be the duty can be accounted for in
terms of his five, foundational duties. As noted, Ross says the duty
not to lie rests in part on the duty of non-maleficence. It is wrong
to lie because it involves inflicting a positive injury on another
person (RG 55). This might be true in part. But one might imagine
someone replying with a claim similar to the one Ross makes in reply
to utilitarian attempts to show the duty of fidelity to promises is
not foundational, namely, that, like promise keeping, veracity is not
just a device for preventing bad outcomes. Even in cases where lying
is beneficial it still might be *prima facie* wrong, for while
it does not harm or injure anyone in Ross's sense, it does
bypass another's will in an objectionable way.



Ross also suggests lying is wrong because it involves breaking an
implicit promise 'not to tell ties which seems to be implied in
the act of entering into conversation' (RG 21; FE 97). Again,
this might capture some of what we think wrong with lying, but it may
not provide the full account of what makes it wrong. Ross says when
'we consider ourselves bound . . . to fulfil a promise, we think
of the fulfilment of the promise as the bringing into existence of
some source of pleasure or satisfaction for the person to whom we have
made the promise' (RG 162). When we consider ourselves bound to
tell the truth we are not clearly of the view doing so will promote
pleasure for the individual to whom we owe the obligation. Think here
of being asked to provide an honest assessment of a student's
work. We think we ought to tell the truth, but this is not obviously
accompanied by the thought doing so will bring into existence pleasure
for the student.



It is possible, of course, that we might think telling the truth is
accompanied by the thought doing so will produce some other good
(e.g., knowledge or insight) in which case Ross might be right the
duty to tell the truth rests on the duty to fulfil a promise. But
someone keen on a *prima facie* duty of veracity might insist
even when no good is at stake it might still be *prima facie*
right to tell the truth. It is hard to know what Ross can say to
someone who insists on a self-standing *prima facie* duty of
veracity (like Price 1787, 153).



Ross mentions one good to be promoted under the duty of beneficence is
the good of justice which for him involves 'the bringing about
of a distribution of happiness between other people in proportion to
merit' or virtue (RG 26; also 21, 27, 28, 138, 153-154; FE 286).
This is but one element of justice, as Ross allows. He says many
existing injustices in his sense are due to 'social and economic
systems which we have ... taken part in and assented to'
(RG 28) (including, we should imagine as Ross did not, the colonialism
from which Ross's own college - Oriel College -
benefitted (Clarke 1971, 327)). He says this fact reinforces our
obligations of justice.



Ross may be right. But our obligations to disrupt these systems is not
merely a matter of restoring justice in Ross's sense. It might
be the case that we have a *prima facie* obligation to
facilitate fair or equitable outcomes in the distribution of wealth
and income that are unrelated to restoring or preventing injustice in
Ross's case. Indeed, we might argue it is more important to
achieve some fairness in the distribution of income and wealth and it
would be right to achieve it even at the expense of justice in
Ross's sense.



There are other issues of justice Ross does not touch on. For example,
Ross says very little about equality in the distribution of scare
resources. Some think in distributing scarce medical resources (e.g.,
ICU beds) we ought to give priority to the least well off. Ross might
think considerations of this sort are captured by the duty of
beneficence. But many might think we should give priority to the least
well off even if this fails to promote the best outcomes. Ross may
need to include a *prima facie* duty of equity in his list to
accommodate the full inventory of issues relating to justice.


### 4.2 The Good



In RG, Ross argues four things are intrinsically good (RG 27, 102,
134-141):


1. Virtue (or, 'virtuous disposition and action, i.e. action,
or disposition to act, from any one of certain motives [desires], of
which at all events the most notable are the desire to do one's
duty, the desire to bring into being something that is good, and the
desire to give pleasure or save pain to others' (RG 134; also
160);
2. Knowledge (or apprehension of fact) and (to a lesser extent) right
opinion (or correct belief about the ways things are);
3. Justice (or happiness apportioned to merit or virtue); and
4. Pleasure[2].



Virtue, knowledge and pleasure are states of mind, while justice is a
relation between states of mind (virtue and pleasure) (RG
 140).[3]



Ross does not think these values are of the same importance. He ranks
them. Virtue is ranked highest. It is 'superior' to all
the other goods (RG 153). It is, he says, 'infinitely'
better than knowledge (understood as a 'bare condition of the
intellect' (RG 151)), pleasure, and (it seems) justice (RG 150,
152-154). As noted, there are three virtuous desires. These, too, are
ranked. The desire to do one's duty is more valuable than the
desire to promote what is good (e.g., virtue and knowledge) which is
more valuable than the desire to promote others' pleasure (RG
164-166). 



Knowledge is the next best, followed by right
 opinion.[4]
 Knowledge and right opinion are, for Ross, distinct states:
'Knowledge is apprehension of fact, and right opinion is not
that, but is simply a state of mind in which things are believed
(*not* apprehended) to be related as they are in fact
related' (RG 146). Knowledge is better than right opinion, for
two reasons.



First, knowledge involves direct apprehension of facts or the
inferential apprehension of one fact 'as necessitated by other
facts', but right opinion is always partly grounded on
'the product of other psychical events such as wishes, hopes,
fears, or the mere association of ideas' (RG 146). Second,
knowledge involves certainty which right opinion lacks (RG 30,
138-139, 147). In addition, 'knowledge of general
principles is intellectually more valuable than knowledge of isolated
matters of fact' and the more general the knowledge - the
more it explains or has the potential to explain other facts -
the better it is (RG 147; for discussion, see Hurka 2014,
206-208).



The least valuable is pleasure (RG 152). It is unclear where exactly
to place justice in Ross's hierarchy; he says only that it is
less valuable than virtue (RG 153-154). It is not implausible to
think it should be placed between (virtuous) knowledge and pleasure,
and therefore the values are ranked as follows: virtue, (virtuous)
knowledge, justice and pleasure.



In FE, Ross defends a slightly different view. He appears to maintain
there are four non-instrumental values (FE 19, 73, 180, 262, 278,
288-289):


1. virtue;
2. intellectual and aesthetic activities;
3. justice; and
4. (others') pleasure.



In RG, Ross maintains all non-instrumental values are valuable in the
same way: their goodness is intrinsic to them (RG 115, 118, 132; also
OJ 119; he returns to this position at KT 11-12;). In FE, he
adopts a different stance. The value of virtue and intellectual
activities is a 'quality intrinsic to them' (FE 278).
These items are 'fit objects of admiration' or objects
'worthy of admiration' (FE 282-283). By contrast,
the value of justice and pleasure is not intrinsic to them; rather,
their value is based on a relation involving us rightly taking an
interest or rightly finding (some kind of) satisfaction in them (FE
278). The pleasure of others and justice are 'worthy objects of
satisfaction' or things in which it is right to take
satisfaction or an interest (FE 275, 278, 282, 283, 288-89). The
difference in the source of value of the things in the two categories
appears to follow from the fact 'while it is self-evident that
the only ground on which a thing is worthy of admiration is that it is
good in itself, it is not self-evident that the only ground on which a
thing is worthy of our interest or liking is that it is good in
itself' (FE
 279).[5]



This distinction between types of non-instrumental value permits Ross
to explain two things he thinks true of pleasure:


1. Only *innocent* pleasure is good, that is, pleasure not
undeserved or taken in the misfortune of others or in lust or in
cruelty (RG 136-137, 151; FE 271-272).
2. Only the innocent *pleasure of others* is good and hence
why we think we have a duty to promote it and not our own (even
innocent) pleasure (FE 74-75, 272, 276, 279, 283,
 322).[6]



The reason only innocent pleasure is valuable is only it is an object
worthy of satisfaction. For Ross, it is not right to take satisfaction
in, for instance, undeserved pleasure or pleasure in cruelty or lust.
The reason only the pleasure of others is valuable is, again, only in
it is it right for one to take satisfaction. It is not right, thinks
Ross, for one to take satisfaction in one's own pleasure.



In section 4.1 we discussed Ross's view we have no duty or
obligation to promote our own pleasure or prevent our own pain. Here
we see one reason for this: one's own pain is not from
one's own point of view bad and one's own pleasure is not
from one's own point of view good. These are not fit objects of
(dis)satisfaction. Hence, we have no duty to prevent our own pain or
promote our own
 pleasure.[7]



In RG, Ross wrestled with whether we have a duty to promote our own
pleasure, noting 'while we clearly recognize a duty to produce
pleasure for others, it is by no means so clear that we recognize a
duty to produce pleasure for ourselves' (RG 24; also 25-26,
151). Despite his lack of confidence, he affirmed in RG an obligation
to promote our own happiness under the obligation of beneficence (RG
25-26). However, as we have seen, there are traces of the view we have
no duty to promote our own pleasure / prevent our own pain even in RG,
including (as noted) in how he construes the duty of non-maleficence
(e.g., at RG 21, 22, 28) and in his view it is not virtuous to desire
to give yourself pleasure or save yourself pain (RG 134, 168; cf. Ross
1928-29, 268-69).



Ross is often unclear about the value and status of justice. He
frequently states there are only three intrinsic goods (FE 19, 180,
262, 278; KT 11-12; OJ 119, 120, 121). In early writings, he
claims justice is a duty not a value (OJ 123). In RG, he is unclear,
sometimes claiming justice is a good (RG 27) and sometimes that it is
a *prima facie* duty (RG 35). However, in FE he is relatively
clear justice is good in the same sense the pleasure of others is
good, so it seems reasonable to conclude he thinks justice is a
non-instrumental good (FE 288-289). He also suggests at one
point promise keeping is good in the same way justice and pleasure are
good (FE 289). But he more often rejects the claim that promise
keeping is good (FE 141, 142), suggesting not all objects worthy of
satisfaction are
 valuable.[8]



There are variety of ways in which to attack Ross's theory of
value. As in the case of Ross's list of duties we can ask
whether his list should be expanded or contracted. But before we
discuss this it is worth to examine a some of the unique and striking
features of Ross's value theory.



Ross says a number of highly interesting things about knowledge,
including about the value of knowledge (RG 148). One thing he says,
for example, is knowledge is always more valuable than right opinion.
He seems to think knowledge better in part because right opinion
always rests on 'psychological causes (largely
irrational)', e.g., wishes, hopes, and fears (RG 146). Against
Ross, one might suggest not all right opinion - e.g., opinion
carefully formed on the basis of the best evidence - necessarily
rests on such causes (Phillips 2019, 144). Suppose having used the
best, most sophisticated polling data I believe with a credence level
of 84% that a certain politician will win a by-election and she does.
My being able to have only probable opinion in this case need not
result from some intellectual vice or shortcoming.



Ross might say in reply in the case of right opinion you cannot rule
out that such causes are operating on your opinion, whereas in the
case of knowledge you can, because, on his conception of knowledge,
when you know, you know you know. You have complete conviction (RG
147). This might make knowledge more valuable. And, he might continue,
even if you can rule out such causes in the case of right opinion
right opinion is less valuable than knowledge because it is in some
way always based on conjecture and merely *contingent*
connections between ideas and so held with some degree of
diffidence.



Ross also says, as we noted, some virtuous motives are better than
others. We might question whether we really can affirm, for example,
the desire to do one's duty is always better than the desire to
produce something good (RG 164-65). The desire to do your duty because
it is your duty seems no more valuable than the desire to promote good
because it is good (Hurka 2003, 213-14). Both involve similar kinds of
attitudes (loving the good and loving the right) and overcoming
similar kinds of obstacles. It is not clear it is better to follow
warranted public health measures because you desire to do what you
ought rather than because you desire to promote general good.



Ross's value theory also includes two very striking claims.
Perhaps the most striking claim is about the value of virtue. He says
'*no* amount of pleasure is equal to any amount of
virtue' (RG 150; italics in original). This means a world with
some, very small amount of virtue but great amounts of (surplus) pain
is better than a world with slightly less virtue (one more venial sin
has been committed) but great quantities of (surplus) pleasure. This
is hard to believe. Surely, the second world is better (Price 1931,
354; also Hurka 2014, 226; Phillips 2019, 120).



Ross also says in FE that one's own (innocent) pleasure lacks
non-instrumental value from one's own point of view. He holds
this because, as we noted, only the (innocent) pleasure of others is
something in which it is right to take satisfaction. Ross says little
about (innocent) pain. But his view seems to be my own (innocent) pain
is not something in which it is right to take dissatisfaction.



However, it does not seem like it is wrong to take dissatisfaction in
one's own pain. It seems right to take dissatisfaction in
one's wretched childhood (if one has had one) and to take
dissatisfaction in the fact one's future is likely to be painful
(after, say, a terminal cancer diagnosis). It is not clear, contra
Ross, we could not follow these judgements with 'moral
safety' (FE 288). It might be harder to think it right to take
satisfaction in one's own pleasure. But, still, it does not seem
wrong to take satisfaction in a joyous childhood (if one has had one)
and to take satisfaction in the fact that one's future appears
likely to be enjoyable (see also Shaver 2014, 312).



Furthermore, Broad rightly says we 'certainly condemn morally a
person who acts highly imprudently, i.e. one who unreasonably
discounts his own probably future pleasures and unpleasures in
comparison with those which are immediately within his reach'
(Broad 1971, 274-75; also Butler 1736, 137-138; Price 1787, 153). One
plausible explanation of this is that one's own pleasure (pain)
is non-instrumentally good (bad).



Ross's worry seems to be that it is odd to say it would be
*morally* right to take satisfaction in one's own
pleasure and *morally* right to take dissatisfaction in
one's own pain (FE 322; also 324, 282, 288; RG 151). Perhaps the
right reply, then, is to say that there is *reason* to take
satisfaction in one's own pleasure and *reason* to take
dissatisfaction in one's own pain.



In general, Ross's value theory is too rigid. One of the
attractive features of his theory of *prima facie* duties is
its flexibility and its lack of a rigid hierarchy amongst the duties.
It is always possible for any one duty to outweigh any other. Ross
would do well to inject some of this flexibility into his value
theory, thinking it is always possible for one value to outweigh any
other in some context. This seems a better fit with what
'we' think on reflection.



In the last section we explored some attempts by ideal utilitarians to
show there are fewer duties than Ross allows. Some ideal utilitarians
take the opposite position with respect to his list of values. They
think it should be expanded or (at any rate) modified. They think a
plausible list would incorporate the values of keeping promises,
expressing gratitude and compensating for past wrongs. The idea is
that acts of this sort have value. They think this will help capture
our intuitions about the ethical importance of promise keeping,
gratitude and reparation while retaining the idea it is never right to
do less than the (impartial) best. Grappling with this puts us in a
position us to assess the second ideal utilitarian reply to
Ross's objections mentioned in the last section.



Recall again one of Ross's examples to suggest ideal
utilitarianism cannot make sense of the obligation to keep one's
promises:



> 
> 
> *A* is dying. He entrusts his property to *B*, on the
> strength of *B*'s promise to give it to *C*.
> *C* does not know of *A*'s intentions or
> *B*'s promise. *B*'s activities will not
> disappoint *A* or *C*, nor will his activities
> negatively impact the general mutual confidence. Suppose *D*
> could make better use of the property than *C*. It follows on
> ideal utilitarianism *B* ought to give the property to
> *D*.
> 
> 
> 



Ross thinks this breach of trust 'outrageous' (FE
105).



In reply, some ideal utilitarians contend they can agree in this case
the promise ought to be kept by adding a value to Ross's list
and say (the act of) promise keeping is non-instrumentally valuable
(or at least that promise breaking is evil). The most plausible form
of this argument states Ross must accept promise keeping is valuable
because he accepts knowledge and justice are valuable and there is no
real difference between these values and the value of keeping promises
or the disvalue of breaking promises (Shaver 2011, 130ff.).



The characterisation of Ross's value theory in this section
provides him with a potential defence. He seems to insist on many
occasions only states of mind or relations between states of mind have
non-instrumental value. Promise keeping, reparation, and gratitude are
not merely states of mind or relations between states of mind.
Therefore, they are not non-instrumentally good.



One worry with this reply is knowledge is not merely a state of mind.
It involves relations to what grounds it. In RG, Ross insists
knowledge has intrinsic value. He sometimes suggests this in FE.
However, his considered seems to be that it is not knowledge but
intellectual and aesthetic activities that have value (FE 19, 27, 73,
180, 262, 266, 267, 270, 278, 282-283, 284, 290, 296; also OJ
119, 120, 121; KT 11-12). And these, we might think, are states of
mind.



This reply might cause Ross problems. If he says knowledge is not
intrinsically valuable but intellectual activities are, he cannot say
an activity of the mind is better when it issues in knowledge (FE 270;
Shaver 2011, 134n34). Perhaps Ross will have to say intellectual
activities leading to knowledge are better, not because knowledge is
itself good, but because of its instrumental properties, e.g.,
knowledge might lead us to being most effective at promoting justice
or virtue or pleasure. *A fortiori* the claim it is
intellectual activities that are intrinsically good explains why some
instances of knowledge are more important than others. Ross says
'different instances of this [intellectual] activity are good in
proportion as they are conducted according to these principles'
(FE 270; also RG 151-152), i.e., principles discovered by logic.
Because, say, more philosophical or more general knowledge requires
greater and more sophisticated use of 'the principles discovered
by logic' (FE 270), it is better than knowledge of the sex lives
of movie stars. The value of the intellectual activities explains the
value of the knowledge.



But what about the fact that justice is an intrinsic value? It is not
a state of consciousness; it is a relation between states of
consciousness (RG 140). If Ross is willing to accept justice as a
good, why not accept (the act of) promise keeping, and so on, are
good? Ross might insist justice is different from promise keeping,
reparation, and gratitude because it is compounded from states of
consciousness and that is why it and not these other things are good.
However, perhaps the better reply is to stop treating justice as a
value. He repeatedly contends it is only states of mind that have
value (OJ 118; RG 122, 106-107, 140; FE 259, 270; KT 21), and
justice is not a state of mind. He can insist only states of mind have
value and block the ideal utilitarian response. Ross is open to
characterising justice as a requirement of duty rather than a value
(FE 319), and he losses little by not listing it as a value. Further,
it might be more acceptable and capture more of what we think about
justice to construe justice (in his sense and others) as a
 duty.[9] 
Many think justice constrains what we are permitted to do to
promote general good and Ross sometimes agrees (FE 71).



It is, of course, open to a critic to argue there is little reason to
think that only states of mind have value. Ross does little to defend
the view. Indeed, he might be forced to reconsider whether only states
of consciousness possess value once he is confronted with the idea
that achievement is among the things we seem to value, where this
involves 'having a goal for how the world should be and then
realizing it' (Hurka 2014, 209). Achievement involves
interacting with and affecting the world, including doing things like
writing a book, raising a child to adulthood and building a muscular
physique.



Ross relies quite heavily on the Moorean isolation method to defend
his value theory (Moore 1903, 93, 95-96, 187-88). You figure out
whether something is non-instrumentally valuable by considering it by
itself or in isolation (KT 10, 11). His value theory came under much
less scrutiny than did his theory of right, and therefore he did not
see fit to consider monistic responses to it. This may in part be
because there is agreement amongst his main rivals--Moore,
Rashdall, Pickard-Cambridge, Ewing, and Johnson--that value
pluralism is true. This may also be because he considered the main
monistic rival--that is, hedonism--a dead end (RG 98; FE
65). But hedonism lives on (Bradley 2009; Crisp 2006; de Lazari-Radek
and Singer 2014; Feldman 2004; Hewitt 2010; Mendola 2006). Therefore,
Ross's value theory may be in for a challenge neither he nor his
ideal utilitarian critics anticipated.



To get a taste of what this challenge may look like consider the
following hedonistic reply to Ross's argument for the idea
virtue is intrinsically valuable. Hedonists hold *pace* Ross
that while it is obvious virtue is instrumentally good and vice is
instrumentally bad, it is far from clear the former is intrinsically
good and the latter is intrinsically bad (Sidgwick 1907: 400ff.). In
response, Ross asks us to imagine two worlds, *W*1
and *W*2. *W*1 and
*W*2 include the same quantity of pleasure. However,
*W*1 contains agents that are virtuous, who act from
or who are disposed to act from the right motives, while
*W*2 contains agents who are vicious, who act from
or who are disposed to act from the wrong motives. Is not
*W*1 preferable to *W*2? Ross
thinks it is, and he says what explains this is virtue is
intrinsically good (RG 134).



But the hedonist has a reply. The situation envisaged is implausible,
for surely *W*1 would have more pleasure than
*W*2 because typically virtuous people produce more
pleasure than vicious people. Indeed, would not a world with virtuous
people be more likely to continue to be filled with pleasure and lack
the possibility of descending into chaos than a world with vicious
people? Is not this ultimately the reason why we desire or prefer
it?



In response, Ross reminds us not all pleasure springs from the actions
of virtuous people and not all pain springs from actions of vicious
(RG 134). Some results from 'the operation of natural
laws' (RG 134). Suppose, then, there are two worlds,
*W*1 and *W*2.
*W*1 contains virtuous people and
*W*2 contains vicious people, and the two worlds
contain equal amounts of pleasure, because although
*W*1-type worlds usually contain more pleasure than
*W*2-type worlds, *W*1's
extra virtue-generated pleasure is offset by 'a much greater
incidence of disease', making the worlds equal in pleasure. Ross
contends it is still the case the virtuous world,
*W*1, is better than *W*2.



This is a good response. The hedonist may have a rejoinder. Would not
*W*1 be on the whole better (hedonistically
speaking) in the long run because of the virtuous people? Would not
*W*1 be a place where it is more likely to be the
case a cure is found or where it is more likely pain is treated
effectively and sympathetically or where it is more likely to remain
stable enough to handle the disease and illness? Ross may rely on
strategies similar to the ones he adopts against the ideal
utilitarian's attempt to show she can explain the importance of
promise keeping (RG 38). But it is clear proponents of Ross's
view of value may well have to contend with arguments of this variety
given the recent resurgence of hedonism. They may have to contend more
specifically with hedonistic replies questioning the reliability of
the intuitions to which Ross appeal in his attempt to argue for value
pluralism.


## 5. Ross's Moral Epistemology



How do we acquire moral and axiological knowledge? Ross holds
'both in mathematics and in ethics we have certain crystal-clear
intuitions from which we build up all that we can know about the
nature of numbers and the nature of duty' (FE 144). Our
knowledge of the basic moral and axiological propositions which are
the object of moral intuitions is non-inferential (OJ 121, 123; RG 29,
146; FE 144, 172, 262, 320). They are non-inferentially knowable
because they are self-evident or knowable on the basis of an
understanding of the self-evident proposition alone (RG 20n1, 29; FE
320). For example, that we have a responsibility to keep our promises
is self-evident (RG 29). It is by a process of reflection on this
proposition that we come to apprehend we have this responsibility.
Ross thinks we can trust our moral apprehensions, and since
apprehension is a matter of knowledge, and knowledge implies
certainty, he is certain we have the above responsibilities and that
certain things are intrinsically valuable (RG 146, 29, 30; KT 42;
Skelton 2007; cf. Audi 2004).



That our responsibilities are self-evident does not entail they are
obvious to everyone who reflects on them. Ross says a responsibility
is self-evident 'not in the sense that it is evident from the
beginning of our lives, or as soon as we attend to the proposition for
the first time, but in the sense that when we have reached sufficient
mental maturity and have given sufficient attention to the proposition
it is evident without any need of proof, or of evidence beyond itself.
It is self-evident just as a mathematical axiom, or the validity of a
form of inference, is evident' (RG 29; also 12, 32; KT 42).



The analogy with mathematics is instructive, for we acquire our moral
knowledge in the same way we acquire knowledge of mathematical axioms.
We apprehend that 2+2 = 4 by apprehending 2+2 matches makes 4 matches
and 2+2 balls makes 4 balls, and so on. We apprehend the algorithm in
the particular cases after exposure to particular instances of its
application, by a process of intuitive induction (FE 170). We
apprehend it is *prima facie* right to keep promises by
apprehending it is *prima facie* right to fulfill this or that
particular promise. 'What comes first in time is the
apprehension of the self-evident *prima facie* rightness of an
individual act of a particular type. From this we come by reflection
to apprehend the self-evident general principle of *prima
facie* duty' (RG 33; also FE 170).



How do we decide or form epistemic attitudes about our actual
obligation in a particular circumstance? What one ought to do in a
particular case, as we noted above, is that act 'of all those
possible for the agent in the circumstances, [that has]...the
greatest balance of *prima facie* rightness, in those respects
in which they are *prima facie* right, over their *prima
facie* wrongness, in those respects in which they are *prima
facie* wrong' (RG 41; also RG 46). To figure out which, of
the acts open to you, has the greatest balance of *prima facie*
rightness over *prima facie* wrongness you look at all the acts
open to you and determine all the ways in which they are *prima
facie* right and all the ways in which they are *prima
facie* wrong and then figure out in each case the balance of
*prima facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness.
You then compare the acts open to you in terms of their balance of
*prima facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness.
The act with the greatest balance of overall *prima facie*
rightness is the one you ought all things considered to do and what
you ought all things considered to do is what you ought or it is right
to do.



What is the relationship between the *prima facie*
responsibilities we have and the 'actual or absolute duty to do
one particular act in particular circumstances' (RG 28)? Our
self-evident *prima facie* responsibilities are not
'principles by the immediate application of which our duty in
particular circumstances can be deduced' (FE 84; also 169, 171;
OJ 122, 127). Instead, one determines one's actual duty or
one's duty proper, by reference to '*all* the
morally significant kinds it [the act] is an instance of' (RG
20; italics in original; also FE 84, 186; OJ 126-127).
One's actual responsibility or duty 'belongs to an act in
virtue of its whole nature and of nothing less than this' (RG
28; also 33, 132).



Ross is not exactly right here, for one has to engage in a fair amount
of comparison of rival acts open to one in terms of their balance of
*prima facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness.
The idea is our *prima facie* principles provide moral
considerations or factors of direct relevance to the morality of each
of the acts open to us. We have to judge with respect to each act open
to us to what extent *prima facie* rightness outweighs
*prima facie* wrongness and then compare acts with each other
in terms of their balance of *prima facie* rightness over
*prima facie* wrongness and then determine which act has on
balance the greatest amount of *prima facie* rightness over
*prima facie* wrongness. The act with the greatest balance of
*prima facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness is
what you ought all things considered to do and is therefore your
actual obligation. The act which is one's actual duty is the one
for which one is most responsible or to which the weightier of
one's responsibilities attach of those acts open to one (FE 85;
RG 41-42).



Unsurprisingly, Ross says '[t]his sense of our particular duty
in particular circumstances, preceded and informed by the fullest
reflection we can bestow on the act in all its bearings, is highly
fallible, but it is the only guide we have to our [actual] duty'
(RG 42). We never *know*, then, what we actually ought to do in
a certain situation. Instead, we have a 'considered
opinion' or 'probable opinion' regarding what we
ought to do in a particular situation (RG 19, 30, 31, 33; FE 189, 190,
191; OJ 122, 123, 127). In the end, the decision regarding what to do
simpliciter, to use Aristotle's phrase, 'rests with
perception' (RG 42; OJ 127; Aristotle1109b23, 1126b4). It is
important to note all of the responsibilities have a valence, positive
or negative, and this valence persists even when a responsibility is
outweighed by weightier responsibilities. So if one's break a
promise one owes compensation to the person to whom one has made the
promise (RG 28).



One point of clarification. Ross says the act which is our actual duty
or obligation in our situation is the one, out of the range of acts
open to us, with the greatest balance of *prima facie*
rightness over *prima facie* wrongness. It is possible, of
course, all acts open to us will have on balance a greater amount
of *prima facie* wrongness over *prima facie* rightness.
In this case, one presumes, Ross will say our actual obligation is the
act, of those open to us, with the least amount of *prima
facie* wrongness over *prima facie* rightness on
balance.



In addition, Ross seems not to have considered fully the possibility
that two acts open to us might be tied in terms of the amount of
*prima facie* rightness over *prime facie* wrongness
they possess. If two or more acts are tied in this respect, there is
no act of those open to us having the greatest balance of *prima
facie* rightness over *prima facie* wrongness. In such a
case there will appear to be a conflict of actual obligations. To
avoid saying this, Ross will have to modify his view to say our actual
obligation in our situation is the act, of those open to us, with at
least as much *prima facie* rightness over *prima facie*
wrongness as any other act open to us.



Ross's epistemology may be attacked in a variety of different
ways.



One issue arises with respect to Ross's contrast between our
knowledge of *prima facie* duties or responsibilities and our
knowledge of our actual obligation in a situation. Ross thinks we have
certainty with respect to *prima facie* responsibilities (RG
30), but only probable opinion of our actual duty. Our lack of
knowledge of our actual duty is due in part to the difficulty of
determining the precise weight of a *prima facie* duty or its
degree of obligatoriness (FE 188).



One may dissent from both the claim we have knowledge of or are
certain we have the *prima facie* responsibilities Ross says we
have and from the claim that we cannot know (in some perhaps lesser
sense) our actual duty.



It is hard to believe we could ever be certain we have Ross's
*prima facie* duties. Ross himself gives reasons for doubt. As
noted, in RG he says in his original discussion of *prima
facie* duties we have a *prima facie* duty of justice
(pleasure apportioned to virtue) (RG 21). A duty of this sort would in
some way constrain our duty of beneficence. A few pages later he
revises his view and says justice is not a duty, but a good that ought
to be promoted as a part of our obligation of beneficence in which
case it would not constrain our duty of beneficence (RG 27). But Ross
is less than clear about exactly what he thinks. After it seems he has
settled on the idea justice is a good he seems to suggest he is not
fully convinced saying again justice is a duty (RG 35; for the same
view, see FE 71-72). This suggests uncertainty about a *prima
facie* duty justice. And we may have similar uncertainties about
the status of other duties, including the *prima facie* duty of
fidelity to promises. We may be uncertain whether or not the duty to
keep one's promises constrains the duty of beneficence (for
discussion, see Phillips 2019, 186-87).



In addition, it seems in some cases we can have quite a firm view of
our actual duty. Consider a situation in which you have to acts open
to you. You are walking to work to chat with a student you have
promised to meet. On the way there you see a child drowning in a pond
and only you can save her. If you save her, you will not be able to
meet your student; if you carry on to meet your student, the child
will drown. So, either you break a relatively trivial promise to meet
a student in your office hours or you save a drowning child. It seems
clear to many that your actual obligation in this scenario is that you
break the promise. True, it is likely that you cannot be certain of
this but you can be as certain of this as you can be of any *prima
facie* duty (for discussion, see Hurka, 2014, 124-125; Phillips
2019, 187-88; Price 1931, 344; Ross sometimes agrees; FE 191).



Another worry is there is very little agreement in intuitions or
claims to self-evidence. This suggests for some there is no fact of
the matter as to what has value or what one is responsible for. Ross
concedes there is a lot of disagreement. His response begins by noting
a lot of moral diversity rests not on 'disagreement about
fundamental moral principles, but partly on differences in the
circumstances of different societies, and partly on different views
which people hold, not on moral questions but on questions of
fact' (FE 18). He thinks most of the differences concern
*media axiomata*, i.e., attempts to apply general principles to
particular circumstances, which rest on different circumstances or
different factual beliefs (FE 18-19). About middle principles,
he says intuitionists must have an open mind (FE 190).



Many differences cannot be explained away in this fashion, however (FE
19). There are differences as to the 'comparative worth of
different goods' (FE 19) and as to the stringency of the
responsibilities Ross endorses (FE 186-188). These disagreements
should not, he thinks, undermine our confidence that there is
objective moral truth. But it is very hard to see a resolution to
these problems. He says despite changes in scientific theories there
is a sense science progresses toward the truth. The same is true in
ethics. There is no reason to 'doubt that man progresses fairly
steadily towards moral truth as he does towards scientific' (FE
20). The difficulty with this response is whereas in scientific
matters there is an independent way of establishing progress, there is
no such independent or seemingly independent way of establishing this
in ethics. Recent research in the social sciences on moral judgement
should not leave us confident (Greene 2008; Singer 2005).



The problems with Ross's moral epistemology are compounded by
the fact he thinks the principles of his framework best reflect the
main elements of common-sense moral thinking, and that this is
necessary to an acceptable moral theory. This threatens to make his
position appear parochial (Hare 1971). He is aware of this worry. He
replies by saying the number of principles intuitionism endorses is
small in number and general in content and this leaves room to reject
much of what is commonly taken to be right (FE 190). He also insists
on the idea the list of duties (goods) he fixes on are a result of
sober reflection on what we really think where this involves appeal to
thought experiments and judgements about particular cases (for
discussion, see Stratton-Lake 2002b, 114-118). This seems like the
right kind of move to make to avoid dogmatism.



However, it puts him in a rather awkward position. If it really is
true the number of principles is small and it is possible therefore to
reject much of what is commonly recognized to be morally required, the
position has a more reformist edge, and to the extent it is reformist
it is more rather than less like the other views Ross rejects. In this
case, it makes it much more difficult for him to fault his rivals for
not capturing common-sense morality or what the plain many thinks. If
he attempts to move more toward the plain man's view, then
although he can more easily raise objections to ideal utilitarianism
and other views, he is much more likely to lose his critical element
and therefore less likely fend off the charge of parochialism. 


## 6. Ross's Moral Metaphysics



Like many in his time, Ross took pains to undermine various
definitions of moral terms. He draws a distinction between
naturalistic and non-naturalistic definitions. The former are
'definitions which claim to define an ethical term without using
any other ethical term' (FE 6). The latter are definitions which
attempt 'to define one ethical term by the aid of another'
(FE 6; cf. 42).



Ross rejects all naturalistic definitions of moral terms, including
'right' and (intrinsic) 'good'. In RG, he
argues (following Moore 1912 and Sidgwick 1907) that the moral terms
'right' and 'ought' are incapable of
definition: 'right' is an 'irreducible notion'
(RG 12). In FE, he suggests again 'right' is indefinable
(FE 42), though he is sympathetic to the idea that 'right'
is definable in terms of 'suitable' (FE 52-55). On
this view, 'this act is right' means 'this act has
"the greatest amount of suitability possible in the
circumstances"' (FE 53; also 55). This is not a naturalist
definition, since 'suitability' is itself a 'unique
and indefinable' ethical notion (FE 146; also 159).



In RG, Ross appears to reject all naturalistic attempts to define
'good' (RG 78ff.). He is in particular keen to impugn
views providing relational accounts of 'good'; that is,
views defining it in terms of some relation to a mental state, e.g.,
desire. His view appears to be that 'goodness is a quality which
can no more be defined in terms of anything other than itself, than
can the quality of the sensation which we describe as being one of
"seeing yellow"' (RG 86). In FE, he seems to affirm
the view that 'good' is indefinable (FE 262), though again
he seems sympathetic to a non-naturalistic definition, according to
which 'good' is definable in terms of
'admirable' or 'commendable' (FE 271, 283). He
says this sense of 'good' applies only to things that are
intrinsically good in the sense of being objects worthy of admiration,
and (as noted above) only virtue and intellectual activity are worthy
of admiration (FE 283). The notion of 'good' as applied to
the goods of pleasure and justice can be defined relationally. These
goods are not objects worthy of admiration but rather fit objects of
satisfaction. Both notions of good are in a sense definable, but the
definitions are non-natural: in both cases 'good' is
defined in terms of 'worthiness' or
'rightness' (FE 279, 282).



Ross suggests a number of arguments against various (naturalistic and
non-naturalistic) definitions of moral terms. He relies in part on the
following kind of argument, which is directed at Moore (RG 8). If
'right' and 'being productive of the greatest good
in the circumstances' mean the same thing, it is not the case it
is intelligible the proposition 'the "right act"
just is "the act productive of the greatest good in the
circumstances"' should have been denied and maintained
'with so much fervour; for we do not fight for or against
analytic propositions' (RG 8). It is intelligible that these
propositions should have been denied and maintained with so much
fervour. Therefore, it is not the case that 'right' and
'productive of the greatest good in the circumstances'
mean the same thing. This argument can be generalised to reject the
usual suspects, e.g., 'right' means 'approved of by
me' or 'right' means 'approved of by the
majority of society', and so on. But it is not the best
argument, since we may well fight over analytic propositions,
especially when they are opaque or unobvious.



Ross seems to acknowledge this sort of worry. He writes 'the
fact that we accept some definition as correct shows that the term did
somehow stand for a complex of elements; yet the fact that we are for
some time in doubt about whether the term is analysable, and if so,
what the correct analysis is, shows that this complex of elements was
not distinctly present to our mind before, or during, the search for a
definition' (RG 92-93). In reply, he says the only way to
rebut the claim 'right' and 'good' are
definable (naturalistically) is to examine 'all the definitions
that possess any initial plausibility' (RG 93). To these we
should apply two tests (FE 259; RG 93). First, we should determine
whether 'the definition applies to all things to which the term
applies, and to no others' (FE 259; also RG 93). Second, we
should ask whether the proposed definition expresses 'explicitly
what we had implicitly in mind when we used the term' (FE 259;
also RG 93). Using these tools, Ross rejects (among others) the
position that 'this act is right' means 'all or most
men...react to the act with a feeling of approval' (FE 24).
We often judge an act is right even when we know we are alone in
holding this view (FE 25).



These are not the only arguments on which Ross relies. Against the
view 'right' means 'awakes in me the emotion of
approval' (FE 22), he argues it is unable to explain 'the
possibility of difference of opinion on the rightness of acts'
(FE 24). On this view, if I say 'incest is impermissible'
and you say 'incest is permissible' we are not
disagreeing, since all I am saying is 'incest awakes in me the
emotion of disapproval' and all you are saying is 'incest
awakes in me the emotion of approval', two statements that
appear to be 'perfectly compatible' with each other (FE
24). But we want to say the two statements are not compatible. Ross
gives the same argument against the claim '*X* is
good' means 'I have a certain feeling toward
*X*'. If I say '*X* is good' and you
say '*X* is bad', you are saying you have a certain
(negative) feeling toward *X* and I am saying I have a certain
(positive) feeling toward *X*, two statements that seem to be
compatible with each other. Yet, he urges, 'if anything is
clear, it is that we do suppose ourselves to be making incompatible
statements about the object' (RG 83).



Ross also appears to reject various analyses of moral terms in order
to preserve a certain way of conducting moral philosophy (Shaver 2007,
286, 295). He notes 'there is a system of moral truth, as
objective as all truth must be, which, and whose implications, we are
interested in discovering' (RG 15; also 20, 29; KT 60). The
discovery of these truths is *not* a matter of scientific
(empirical) investigation. Ethical truths are not discovered by
'mere observation' (FE 7; also 168).



Instead, they are 'grasped by an intuitive act of human
reason' (FE 3). 'The use of the senses, and the physical
sciences, give us no propositions in which 'right' or
'obligatory' occurs as a term' (KT 87). There are
'two types of predicate--those that can be discovered by
experience to belong to their subjects, and those that can be
discovered by insight, and let us grant that rightness belongs to the
second class' (KT 81). In science,
'sense-experience...furnishes...real data' (RG
40). In ethics, 'no such appeal is possible. We have no more
direct way of access to the facts about rightness and goodness and
about what things are right or good, *than by thinking about
them*' (RG 40; emphasis added; also 82).



To entrench this idea he draws analogies between mathematic and
logical knowledge and ethical knowledge (RG 29, 30, 32; KT 42, 85; FE
320). He is fan of synthetic *a priori* truths in ethics (and
elsewhere) (FE 35-36; also 320). Since it might be possible to
arrive at ethical knowledge by means of (mere) experience if moral
terms were reducible to natural terms, this provides Ross with an
incentive to show no such reduction is possible. He wants in short to
protect a moral methodology prizing appeal to what 'we'
think, the thoughts of the 'best and most enlightened' (FE
172), consensus amongst experts (OJ 119-120; FE 191) and various
kinds of thought experiments. Indeed, it has been suggested that
through the use of these tools it is possible to demonstrate that
though 'right' is not synonymous with a natural property
it nonetheless refers to some natural property, e.g., what has the
greatest balance of justice, beneficence, fidelity, and so on, over
injustice, non-maleficence and infidelity, and so on (Shaver 2007,
289). (This may be controversial if such notions as
'justice' are incapable of complete naturalization. If
complete naturalization is not an option, then Ross may be forced to
endorse a less palatable metaphysics.)



Ross holds the basic claims of morality express 'facts which are
self-evidently necessary' (FE 320; also 262). Are these
objective facts of a special kind? The standard suggestion is for Ross
moral facts are non-natural facts or non-natural properties
(Stratton-Lake 2002a, xxi; Frankena 1963, 86-87; 1973, 103). It
is not clear he actually holds this view. He says very little about
the nature of moral facts except (perhaps unhelpfully) to compare them
to mathematical and logical facts. He does not appear to infer from
the failure of naturalistic definitions of moral terms that the terms
refer to distinct properties. His focus is almost entirely on
definitions of 'right' and (intrinsic) 'good'.
His concern is with what 'we have in mind' not with
properties (FE 13, 42), though, problematically, he often refers to
'good' as a 'quality' or
'characteristic' or 'property' (RG 82, 87, 88,
110, 122; FE 278, 279). He writes that 'the difference between
goodness or value and such attributes as yellowness is there whereas
the latter are *differentiae*...of their possessors, the
former is a *property* (i.e. a consequential attribute) of
them' (RG 121; italics in original).



It is not clear Ross intends this view to be an inference from his
arguments against naturalistic or other analyses. That he offers no
explicit argument to this effect suggests he likely did not intend the
inference (cf. Stratton-Lake 2002a), and he nowhere rules out that
moral properties are natural properties. At any rate, he does not need
to make this inference to achieve the aims he has in rebutting the
various definitions he discusses. The arguments he uses are sufficient
to preserve (in his view) plausible moral semantics, moral
disagreement, and his moral methodology. This should please the
adherents of this view, though it still leaves Ross with the task of
making sense of the nature of moral truth if it is not to be
understood as correspondence to the moral facts.



Ross's appeal to self-evidence and his defence of the synthetic
*a priori* may seem problematic to many, though recent defences
of these views suggest their fortunes are improving (Audi 1996, 2004;
Crisp 2002; Parfit 2011; Stratton-Lake 2002a, 2002b). To defend
himself, Ross might simply eschew appeal to self-evidence and
certainty with respect to intuitions about general principles and
replace them with appeal to moral beliefs of high reliability or to
considered convictions about moral claims (Griffin 1996; Hooker 2000;
Rawls 1971). This seems to give him what he needs methodologically
(for discussion, see Irwin 2009, 686-90). The appeal to considered
convictions allows him the ability to say, for example, we know
directly pain is bad and it is *prima facie* wrong to break
your promises; in addition, he can avoid the defects of coherence
theories of justification by holding there are at least some
propositions not justified exclusively by coherence (FE 141; Ross
1931, 61-62).



This (importantly) puts him on the same level as almost all moral
theorists working today. It is less clear Ross is able to divest
himself of synthetic *a priori* truths. But if his endorsement
of synthetic *a priori* truths is one way of securing the
standard way of doing moral philosophy, which involves appeal to
thought-experiments, intuition, what we think, and so on, it is more
difficult to reject. It is more difficult to reject still if we accept
such claims in areas outside ethics and if we are not keen on (radical
forms of) empiricism.


## 7. Ross's Contemporary Importance



Ross's contemporary importance to moral philosophy rests on his
clarification and defence of a form of pluralistic deontology
attempting to avoid the alleged deficiencies of utilitarianism without
embracing the alleged excesses of Kantianism. The most distinctive
feature of this view is the notion of a *prima facie* duty or
of a consideration counting in favour of or against an act, morally
speaking. Ross's view serves as an important source of
inspiration for those dissatisfied with Kantianism and utilitarianism.
Ross said little about issues in what we now call practical or applied
ethics. He belonged to a group of moral philosophers, including Moore,
Prichard and others, for whom it was not important to work out views
on contemporary issues or to use moral philosophy to change the world
(though see Ross 1929; RG 56-64, for his reflections on punishment;
for illuminating discussion of Ross's view, see Moriarty 2006;
Zimmerman 2011). Nevertheless, Ross's view has seen a resurgence
in ethics and applied ethics (Audi 2004; Beauchamp and Childress 2008;
Phillips 2019; Stratton-Lake 2011b).



Ross also outlines a moral epistemology distinct from the coherentist
reflective equilibrium that has held sway over moral philosophy for
the last fifty years. He relies on the idea that at the core of ethics
there are certain self-evident truths which can be discovered by
reflection on what we think about moral and axiological questions.
Those dissatisfied with the standard model for doing moral philosophy
but who at the same time find themselves attracted to the idea ethical
theories should capture the main elements of common-sense morality do
well to consult Ross's unique contribution to moral
epistemology.