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Western Theories of Justice

Justice is one of the most important moral and political concepts. The word comes from the Latin jus,
meaning right or law. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the just person as one who typically does
what is morally right and is disposed to giving everyone his or her due, offering the word fair as a
synonym.

But philosophers want to get beyond etymology and dictionary definitions to consider, for

example, the nature of justice as both a moral virtue of character and a desirable quality of political society,
as well as how it applies to ethical and social decision-making.

This article will focus on Western

philosophical conceptions of justice. These will be the greatest theories of ancient Greece (those of Plato
and Aristotle) and of medieval Christianity (Augustine and Aquinas), two early modern ones (Hobbes and
Hume), two from more recent modern times (Kant and Mill), and some contemporary ones (Rawls and
several successors).

Typically the article considers not only their theories of justice but also how

philosophers apply their own theories to controversial social issuesfor example, to civil disobedience,
punishment, equal opportunity for women, slavery, war, property rights, and international relations.

For Plato, justice is a virtue establishing rational order, with each part performing its appropriate role and
not interfering with the proper functioning of other parts. Aristotle says justice consists in what is lawful and
fair, with fairness involving equitable distributions and the correction of what is inequitable. For Augustine,
the cardinal virtue of justice requires that we try to give all people their due; for Aquinas, justice is that
rational mean between opposite sorts of injustice, involving proportional distributions and reciprocal
transactions. Hobbes believed justice is an artificial virtue, necessary for civil society, a function of the
voluntary agreements of the social contract; for Hume, justice essentially serves public utility by protecting
property (broadly understood). For Kant, it is a virtue whereby we respect others freedom, autonomy, and
dignity by not interfering with their voluntary actions, so long as those do not violate others rights; Mill said
justice is a collective name for the most important social utilities, which are conducive to fostering and
protecting human liberty. Rawls analyzed justice in terms of maximum equal liberty regarding basic rights
and duties for all members of society, with socio-economic inequalities requiring moral justification in terms
of equal opportunity and beneficial results for all; and various post-Rawlsian philosophers develop
alternative conceptions.

Western philosophers generally regard justice as the most fundamental of all virtues for ordering
interpersonal relations and establishing and maintaining a stable political society. By tracking the historical
interplay of these theories, what will be advocated is a developing understanding of justice in terms of
respecting persons as free, rational agents. One may disagree about the nature, basis, and legitimate
application of justice, but this is its core.

1. Ancient Greece

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For all their originality, even Platos and Aristotles philosophies did not emerge in a vacuum. As far back in
ancient Greek literature as Homer, the concept of dikaion, used to describe a just person, was important.
From this emerged the general concept of dikaiosune, or justice, as a virtue that might be applied to a
political society. The issue of what does and does not qualify as just could logically lead to controversy
regarding the origin of justice, as well as that concerning its essence.

Perhaps an effective aid to

appreciating the power of their thought is to view it in the context of the teachings of the Sophists, those
itinerant teachers of fifth-century ancient Greece who tried to pass themselves off as wise men. In his
trial, Socrates was at pains to dissociate himself from them, after his conviction refusing to save himself, as
a typical Sophist would, by employing an act of civil disobedience to escape (Dialogues, pp. 24-26, 52-56;
18b-19d, 50a-54b); Plato is more responsible than anyone else for giving them the bad name that sticks
with them to this present time; and Aristotle follows him in having little use for them as instructors of
rhetoric, philosophy, values, and the keys to success. So what did these three great philosophers (literally
lovers of wisdom) find so ideologically objectionable about the Sophists?

The brief answer is, their

relativism and their skepticism. The first important one, Protagoras, captures the former with his famous
saying, Man is the measure of all thingsof the things that are, that they are, and of the things that are
not, that they are not; and he speaks to the latter with a declaration of agnosticism regarding the existence
of divinities. Gorgias (Plato named dialogues after both of them) is remembered for a striking three-part
statement of skepticism, holding that nothing really exists, that, even if something did exist, we could not
grasp it, and that, even if we could grasp something real, we could never express it to anyone else. If all
values are subjective and/or unknowable, then what counts as just gets reduced to a matter of shifting
opinion. We can easily anticipate how readily Sophists would apply such relativism and skepticism to
justice. For example, Thrasymachus (who figures into the first book of Platos Republic) is supposed to
have said that there must not be any gods who care about us humans because, while justice is our greatest
good, men commonly get away with injustice. But the most significant Sophist statement regarding justice
arguably comes from Antiphon, who employs the characteristic distinction between custom (nomos) and
nature (physis) with devastating effect. He claims that the laws of justice, matters of convention, should be
obeyed when other people are observing us and may hold us accountable; but, otherwise, we should follow
the demands of nature. The laws of justice, extrinsically derived, presumably involve serving the good of
others, the demands of nature, which are internal, serving self-interest. He even suggests that obeying the
laws of justice often renders us helpless victims of those who do not (First, pp. 211, 232, 274, 264-266). If
there is any such objective value as natural justice, then it is reasonable for us to attempt a rational
understanding of it. On the other hand, if justice is merely a construction of customary agreement, then
such a quest is doomed to frustration and failure. With this as a backdrop, we should be able to see what
motivated Plato and Aristotle to seek a strong alternative.

a. Plato

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Platos masterful Republic (to which we have already referred) is most obviously a careful analysis of
justice, although the book is far more wide-ranging than that would suggest. Socrates, Platos teacher and
primary spokesman in the dialogue, gets critically involved in a discussion of that very issue with three
interlocutors early on. Socrates provokes Cephalus to say something which he spins into the view that
justice simply boils down to always telling the truth and repaying ones debts. Socrates easily demolishes
this simplistic view with the effective logical technique of a counter-example: if a friend lends you weapons,
when he is sane, but then wants them back to do great harm with them, because he has become insane,
surely you should not return them at that time and should even lie to him, if necessary to prevent great
harm. Secondly, Polemarchus, the son of Cephalus, jumps into the discussion, espousing the familiar,
traditional view that justice is all about giving people what is their due. But the problem with this bromide is
that of determining who deserves what. Polemarchus may reflect the cultural influence of the Sophists, in
specifying that it depends on whether people are our friends, deserving good from us, or foes, deserving
harm. It takes more effort for Socrates to destroy this conventional theory, but he proceeds in stages: (1)
we are all fallible regarding who are true friends, as opposed to true enemies, so that appearance versus
reality makes it difficult to say how we should treat people; (2) it seems at least as significant whether
people are good or bad as whether they are our friends or our foes; and (3) it is not at all clear that justice
should excuse, let alone require, our deliberately harming anyone (Republic, pp. 5-11; 331b-335e). If the
first inadequate theory of justice was too simplistic, this second one was downright dangerous.

The third, and final, inadequate account presented here is that of the Sophist Thrasymachus. He roars into
the discussion, expressing his contempt for all the poppycock produced thus far and boldly asserting that
justice is relative to whatever is advantageous to the stronger people (what we sometimes call the might
makes right theory). But who are the stronger people? Thrasymachus cannot mean physically stronger,
for then inferior humans would be superior to finer folks like them. He clarifies his idea that he is referring
to politically powerful people in leadership positions. But, next, even the strongest leaders are sometimes
mistaken about what is to their own advantage, raising the question of whether people ought to do what
leaders suppose is to their own advantage or only what actually is so. (Had Thrasymachus phrased this in
terms of what serves the interest of society itself, the same appearance versus reality distinction would
apply.)

But, beyond this, Socrates rejects the exploitation model of leadership, which sees political

superiors as properly exploiting inferiors (Thrasymachus uses the example of a shepherd fattening up and
protecting his flock of sheep for his own selfish gain), substituting a service model in its place (his example
is of the good medical doctor, who practices his craft primarily for the welfare of patients). So, now, if
anything like this is to be accepted as our model for interpersonal relations, then Thrasymachus embraces
the injustice of self-interest as better than serving the interests of others in the name of justice. Well,
then, how are we to interpret whether the life of justice or that of injustice is better? Socrates suggests
three criteria for judgment: which is the smarter, which is the more secure, and which is the happier way of
life; he argues that the just life is better on all three counts. Thus, by the end of the first book, it looks as if
Socrates has trounced all three of these inadequate views of justice, although he himself claims to be

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dissatisfied because we have only shown what justice is not, with no persuasive account of its actual nature
(ibid., pp. 14-21, 25-31; 338c-345b, 349c-354c). Likewise, in Gorgias, Plato has Callicles espouse the view
that, whatever conventions might seem to dictate, natural justice dictates that superior people should rule
over and derive greater benefits than inferior people, that society artificially levels people because of a bias
in favor of equality. Socrates is then made to criticize this theory by analyzing what sort of superiority would
be relevant and then arguing that Callicles is erroneously advocating injustice, a false value, rather than the
genuine one of true justice (Gorgias, pp. 52-66; 482d-493c; see, also, Laws, pp. 100-101, 172; 663, 714 for
another articulation of something like Thrasymachus position).

In the second book of Platos Republic, his brothers, Glaucon and Adeimantus, take over the role of primary
interlocutors. They quickly make it clear that they are not satisfied with Socrates defense of justice.
Glaucon reminds us that there are three different sorts of goodsintrinsic ones, such as joy, merely
instrumental ones, such as money-making, and ones that are both instrumentally and intrinsically valuable,
such as healthin order to ask which type of good is justice. Socrates responds that justice belongs in the
third category, rendering it the richest sort of good. In that case, Glaucon protests, Socrates has failed to
prove his point. If his debate with Thrasymachus accomplished anything at all, it nevertheless did not
establish any intrinsic value in justice. So Glaucon will play devils advocate and resurrect the Sophist
position, in order to challenge Socrates to refute it in its strongest form. He proposes to do this in three
steps: first, he will argue that justice is merely a conventional compromise (between harming others with
impunity and being their helpless victims), agreed to by people for their own selfish good and socially
enforced (this is a crude version of what will later become the social contract theory of justice in Hobbes);
second, he illustrates our allegedly natural selfish preference for being unjust if we can get away with it by
the haunting story of the ring of Gyges, which provides its wearer with the power to become invisible at will
and, thus, to get away with the most wicked of injusticesto which temptation everyone would, sooner or
later, rationally succumb; and, third, he tries to show that it is better to live unjustly than justly if one can by
contrasting the unjust person whom everyone thinks just with the just person who is thought to be unjust,
claiming that, of course, it would be better to be the former than the latter. Almost as soon as Glaucon
finishes, his brother Adeimantus jumps in to add two more points to the case against justice: first, parents
instruct their children to behave justly not because it is good in itself but merely because it tends to pay off
for them; and, secondly, religious teachings are ineffective in encouraging us to avoid injustice because the
gods will punish it and to pursue justice because the gods will reward it, since the gods may not even exist
or, if they do, they may well not care about us or, if they are concerned about human behavior, they can be
flattered with prayers and bribed with sacrifices to let us get away with wrongdoing (Republic, pp. 33-42;
357b-366e). So the challenge for Socrates posed by Platos brothers is to show the true nature of justice
and that it is intrinsically valuable rather than only desirable for its contingent consequences.

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In defending justice against this Sophist critique, Plato has Socrates construct his own positive theory. This
is set up by means of an analogy comparing justice, on the large scale, as it applies to society, and on a
smaller scale, as it applies to an individual soul. Thus justice is seen as an essential virtue of both a good
political state and a good personal character. The strategy hinges on the idea that the state is like the
individual writ largeeach comprising three main parts such that it is crucial how they are interrelatedand
that analyzing justice on the large scale will facilitate our doing so on the smaller one. In Book IV, after
cobbling together his blueprint of the ideal republic, Socrates asks Glaucon where justice is to be found, but
they agree they will have to search for it together. They agree that, if they have succeeded in establishing
the foundations of a completely good society, it would have to comprise four pivotal virtues: wisdom,
courage, temperance, and justice. If they can properly identify the other three of those four, whatever
remains that is essential to a completely good society must be justice. Wisdom is held to be prudent
judgment among leaders; courage is the quality in defenders or protectors whereby they remain steadfast
in their convictions and commitments in the face of fear; and temperance (or moderation) is the virtue to be
found in all three classes of citizens, but especially in the producers, allowing them all to agree
harmoniously that the leaders should lead and everyone else follow. So now, by this process-of-elimination
analysis, whatever is left that is essential to a completely good society will allegedly be justice. It then
turns out that justice is doing ones own work and not meddling with what isnt ones own. So the positive
side of socio-political justice is each person doing the tasks assigned to him or her; the negative side is not
interfering with others doing their appointed tasks. Now we move from this macro-level of political society
to the psychological micro-level of an individual soul, pressing the analogy mentioned above. Plato has
Socrates present an argument designed to show that reason in the soul, corresponding to the leaders or
guardians of the state, is different from both the appetites, corresponding to the productive class, and the
spirited part of the soul, corresponding to the states defenders or auxiliaries and that the appetites are
different from spirit. Having established the parallel between the three classes of the state and the three
parts of the soul, the analogy suggests that a completely good soul would also have to have the same
four pivotal virtues. A good soul is wise, in having good judgment whereby reason rules; it is courageous in
that its spirited part is ready, willing, and able to fight for its convictions in the face of fear; and it is
temperate or moderate, harmoniously integrated because all of its parts, especially its dangerous appetitive
desires, agree that it should be always under the command of reason. And, again, what is left that is
essential is justice, whereby each part of the soul does the work intended by nature, none of them
interfering with the functioning of any other parts. We are also told in passing that, corresponding to these
four pivotal virtues of the moral life, there are four pivotal vices, foolishness, cowardice, self-indulgence,
and injustice. One crucial question remains unanswered: can we show that justice, thus understood, is
better than injustice in itself and not merely for its likely consequences? The answer is that, of course, we
can because justice is the health of the soul. Just as health is intrinsically and not just instrumentally good,
so is justice; injustice is a diseasebad and to be avoided even if it isnt yet having any undesirable
consequences, even if nobody is aware of it (ibid., pp. 43, 102-121; 368d, 427d-445b; it can readily be

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inferred that this conception of justice is non-egalitarian; but, to see this point made explicitly, see Laws, pp.
229-230; 756-757).

Now let us quickly see how Plato applies this theory of justice to a particular social issue, before briefly
considering the theory critically. In a remarkably progressive passage in Book V of his Republic, Plato
argues for equal opportunity for women. He holds that, even though women tend to be physically weaker
than men, this should not prove an insuperable barrier to their being educated for the same socio-political
functions as men, including those of the top echelons of leadership responsibility. While the body has a
gender, it is the soul that is virtuous or vicious. Despite their different roles in procreation, child-bearing,
giving birth, and nursing babies, there is no reason, in principle, why a woman should not be as intelligent
and virtuousincluding as justas men, if properly trained. As much as possible, men and women should
share the workload in common (Republic, pp. 125-131; 451d-457d). We should note, however, that the
rationale is the common good of the community rather than any appeal to what we might consider womens
rights. Nevertheless, many of us today are sympathetic to this application of justice in support of a view
that would not become popular for another two millennia.

What of Platos theory of justice itself? The negative part of ithis critique of inadequate views of justice
is a masterful series of arguments against attempts to reduce justice to a couple of simplistic rules
(Cephalus), to treating people merely in accord with how we feel about them (Polemarchus), and to the
power-politics mentality of exploiting them for our own selfish purposes (Thrasymachus). All of these views
of a just person or society introduce the sort of relativism and/or subjectivism we have identified with the
Sophists. Thus, in refuting them, Plato, in effect, is refuting the Sophists. However, after the big buildup,
the positive partwhat he himself maintains justice isturns out to be a letdown. His conception of justice
reduces it to order. While some objective sense of order is relevant to justice, this does not adequately
capture the idea of respecting all persons, individually and collectively, as free rational agents. The analogy
between the state and the soul is far too fragile to support the claim that they must agree in each having
three parts. The process-of-elimination approach to determining the nature of justice only works if those
four virtues exhaust the list of what is essential here. But do they? What, for example, of the Christian
virtue of love or the secular virtue of benevolence? Finally, the argument from analogy, showing that justice
must be intrinsically, and not merely instrumentally, valuable (because it is like the combination good of
health) proves, on critical consideration, to fail.

Platos theory is far more impressive than the

impressionistic view of the Sophists; and it would prove extremely influential in advocating justice as an
objective, disinterested value. Nevertheless, one cannot help hoping that a more cogent theory might yet
be developed.

b. Aristotle

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After working with Plato at his Academy for a couple of decades, Aristotle was understandably most
influenced by his teacher, also adopting, for example, a virtue theory of ethics. Yet part of Aristotles
greatness stems from his capacity for critical appropriation, and he became arguably Platos most able critic
as well as his most famous follower in wanting to develop a credible alternative to Sophism. Book V of his
great Nicomachean Ethics deals in considerable depth with the moral and political virtue of justice. It
begins vacuously enough with the circular claim that it is the condition that renders us just agents inclined
to desire and practice justice. But his analysis soon becomes more illuminating when he specifies it in
terms of what is lawful and fair. What is in accordance with the law of a state is thought to be conducive to
the common good and/or to that of its rulers. In general, citizens should obey such law in order to be just.
The problem is that civil law can itself be unjust in the sense of being unfair to some, so that we need to
consider special justice as a function of fairness. He analyzes this into two sorts: distributive justice
involves dividing benefits and burdens fairly among members of a community, while corrective justice
requires us, in some circumstances, to try to restore a fair balance in interpersonal relations where it has
been lost. If a member of a community has been unfairly benefited or burdened with more or less than is
deserved in the way of social distributions, then corrective justice can be required, as, for example, by a
court of law. Notice that Aristotle is no more an egalitarian than Plato waswhile a sort of social reciprocity
may be needed, it must be of a proportional sort rather than equal. Like all moral virtues, for Aristotle,
justice is a rational mean between bad extremes. Proportional equality or equity involves the intermediate
position between someones unfairly getting less than is deserved and unfairly getting more at anothers
expense. The mean of justice lies between the vices of getting too much and getting too little, relative to
what one deserves, these being two opposite types of injustice, one of disproportionate excess, the other
of disproportionate deficiency (Nicomachean, pp. 67-74, 76; 1129a-1132b, 1134a).

Political justice, of both the lawful and the fair sort, is held to apply only to those who are citizens of a
political community (a polis) by virtue of being free and either proportionately or numerically equal, those
whose interpersonal relations are governed by the rule of law, for law is a prerequisite of political justice
and injustice. But, since individuals tend to be selfishly biased, the law should be a product of reason
rather than of particular rulers. Aristotle is prepared to distinguish between what is naturally just and unjust,
on the one hand, such as whom one may legitimately kill, and what is merely conventionally just or unjust,
on the other, such as a particular system of taxation for some particular society. But the Sophists are wrong
to suggest that all political justice is the artificial result of legal convention and to discount all universal
natural justice (ibid., pp. 77-78; 1134a-1135a; cf. Rhetoric, pp. 105-106; 1374a-b). What is allegedly at
stake here is our developing a moral virtue that is essential to the well-being of society, as well as to the
flourishing of any human being. Another valuable dimension of Aristotles discussion here is his treatment
of the relationship between justice and decency, for sometimes following the letter of the law would violate
fairness or reasonable equity. A decent person might selfishly benefit from being a stickler regarding
following the law exactly but decide to take less or give more for the sake of the common good. In this way,

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decency can correct the limitations of the law and represents a higher form of justice (Nicomachean, pp.
83-84; 1137a-1138a).

In his Politics, Aristotle further considers political justice and its relation to equality. We can admit that the
former involves the latter but must carefully specify by maintaining that justice involves equality not for
everyone, only for equals. He agrees with Plato that political democracy is intrinsically unjust because, by
its very nature, it tries to treat unequals as if they were equals. Justice rather requires inequality for people
who are unequal. But, then, oligarchy is also intrinsically unjust insofar as it involves treating equals as
unequal because of some contingent disparity, of birth, wealth, etc. Rather, those in a just political society
who contribute the most to the common good will receive a larger share, because they thus exhibit more
political virtue, than those who are inferior in that respect; it would be simply wrong, from the perspective of
political justice, for them to receive equal shares. Thus political justice must be viewed as a function of the
common good of a community. It is the attempt to specify the equality or inequality among people, he
admits, that constitutes a key problem of political philosophy. He thinks we can all readily agree that
political justice requires proportional rather than numerical equality. But inferiors have a vested interest in
thinking that those who are equal in some respect should be equal in all respects, while superiors are
biased, in the opposite direction, to imagine that those who are unequal in some way should be unequal in
all ways. Thus, for instance, those who are equally citizens are not necessarily equal in political virtue, and
those who are financially richer are not necessarily morally or mentally superior. What is relevant here is
equality according to merit, though Aristotle cannot precisely specify what, exactly, counts as merit, for
how much it must count, who is to measure it, and by what standard. All he can suggest, for example in
some of his comments on the desirable aristocratic government, is that it must involve moral and
intellectual virtue (Politics, pp. 79, 81, 86, 134, 136, 151, 153; 1280a, 1281a, 1282b, 1301a-1302a, 1307a,
1308a).

Let us now consider how Aristotle applies his own theory of justice to the social problem of alleged
superiors and inferiors, before attempting a brief critique of that theory. While Plato accepted slavery as a
legitimate social institution but argued for equal opportunity for women, in his Politics, Aristotle accepts
sexual inequality while actively defending slavery. Anyone who is inferior intellectually and morally is
properly socio-politically inferior in a well-ordered polis. A human being can be naturally autonomous or
not, a natural slave being defective in rationality and morality, and thus naturally fit to belong to a superior;
such a human can rightly be regarded as a piece of property, or another persons tool for action. Given
natural human inequality, it is allegedly inappropriate that all should rule or share in ruling. Aristotle holds
that some are marked as superior and fit to rule from birth, while others are inferior and marked from birth
to be ruled by others. This supposedly applies not only to ethnic groups, but also to the genders, and he
unequivocally asserts that males are naturally superior and females naturally inferior, the former being fit
to rule and the latter to be ruled. The claim is that it is naturally better for women themselves that they be

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ruled by men, as it is better for natural slaves that they should be ruled by those who are naturally free.
Now Aristotle does argue only for natural slavery. It was the custom (notice the distinction, used here,
between custom and nature) in antiquity to make slaves of conquered enemies who become prisoners of
war. But Aristotle (like Plato) believes that Greeks are born for free and rational self-rule, unlike nonGreeks (barbarians), who are naturally inferior and incapable of it. So the fact that a human being is
defeated or captured is no assurance that he is fit for slavery, as an unjust war may have been imposed on
a nobler society by a more primitive one. While granting that Greeks and non-Greeks, as well as men and
women, are all truly human, Aristotle justifies the alleged inequality among them based on what he calls the
deliberative capacity of their rational souls. The natural slaves rational soul supposedly lacks this, a
woman has it but it lacks the authority for her to be autonomous, a (free male) child has it in some
developmental stage, and a naturally superior free male has it developed and available for governance
(ibid., pp. 7-11, 23; 1254a-1255a, 1260a).

This application creates a helpful path to a critique of Aristotles theory of justice. If we feel that it is unjust
to discriminate against people merely on account of their gender and/or ethnic origin, as philosophers, we
try to identify the rational root of the problem. If our moral intuitions are correct against Aristotle (and some
would even call his views here sexist and racist), he may be mistaken about a matter of fact or about a
value judgment or both. Surely he is wrong about all women and non-Greeks, as such, being essentially
inferior to Greek males in relevant ways, for cultural history has demonstrated that, when given
opportunities, women and non-Greeks have shown themselves to be significantly equal. But it appears that
Aristotle may also have been wrong in leaping from the factual claim of inequality to the value judgment
that it is therefore right that inferiors ought to be socially, legally, politically, and economically subordinate
like Plato and others of his culture (for which he is an apologist here), Aristotle seems to have no
conception of human rights as such. Like Plato, he is arguing for an objective theory of personal and social
justice as a preferable alternative to the relativistic one of the Sophists. Even though there is something
attractive about Aristotles empirical (as opposed to Platos idealistic) approach to justice, it condemns him
to the dubious position of needing to derive claims about how things ought to be from factual claims about
the way things actually are. It also leaves Aristotle with little viable means of establishing a universal
perspective that will respect the equal dignity of all humans, as such. Thus his theory, like Platos, fails
adequately to respect all persons as free, rational agents. They were so focused on the ways in which
people are unequal, that they could not appreciate any fundamental moral equality that might provide a
platform for natural human rights.

2. Medieval Christianity
When Christian thinkers sought to develop their own philosophies in the middle ages (medieval meaning
the middle ages and middle in the sense of being between antiquity and modernity), they found precious

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basic building-blocks in ancient thought. This included such important post-Aristotelians as the enormously
influential Roman eclectic Cicero, such prominent Stoics as Marcus Aurelius (a Roman emperor) and
Epictetus (a Greek slave of the Romans), and neo-Platonists like Plotinus. But the two dominant paths that
medieval philosophy would follow for its roughly thousand year history had been blazed by Plato and
Aristotle. More specifically, Augustine uses Platonic (and neo-Platonic) philosophy to the extent that he can
reconcile it with Christian thought; Aquinas, many centuries later, develops a great synthesis of Christian
thought (including that of Augustine) and Aristotelian philosophy. A great difference, however, between their
philosophies and those of Hellenic thinkers such as Plato and Aristotle stems from the commitment of these
Christians to the authority of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures.

Aquinas would later agree with

Augustine (who is accepting the mandate of Isaiah 7:9) that the quest for philosophical understanding
should begin with belief in religious traditions (Choice, pp. 3, 32). Both the Old Testament and the New
Testament call for just behavior on the part of righteous people, with injustice being a sin against Gods law,
the references being too numerous to cite (but see Job 9:2, Proverbs 4:18, Proverbs 10:6-7, Ecclesiastes
7:20, Matthew 5:45, Philippians 4:8, and Hebrews 12:23). The claim that Gods justice will prevail in the
form of divine judgment is both a promise for the just and a threat for the unjust. Righteousness is
identified with mercy as well as with justice (e.g., Micah 6:8 and Matthew 5:7) and involves our relationship
with God as well as with fellow humans. The ten commandments of the Old Testament (Exodus 20:1-17)
are prescriptions regarding how the righteous are to relate to God as well as to one another. In the New
Testament, Jesus of Nazareth interprets how the righteous are to live (Matthew 22:36-40) in terms of love
of both God and their neighbors; the concept of ones neighbor is meant to extend even to strangers, as is
illustrated in the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37). In the Beatitudes beginning the Sermon
on the Mount, Jesus expands on this gospel of love by advocating that his followers go beyond the duties
of justice to behave with compassion in certain supererogatory ways (Matthew 5:3-12). All of this scriptural
tradition essentially influenced medieval thinkers such as Augustine and Aquinas in a way that distinguishes
them from ancient Greek philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle.

a. Augustine
Aurelius Augustine was born and raised in the Roman province of North Africa; during his life, he
experienced the injustices, the corruption, and the erosion of the Roman Empire.

This personal

experience, in dialectical tension with the ideals of Christianity, provided him with a dramatic backdrop for
his religious axiology. Philosophically, he was greatly influenced by such neo-Platonists as Plotinus. His
Christian Platonism is evident in his philosophical dialogue On Free Choice of the Will, in which he
embraces Platos view of four central moral virtues (which came to be called cardinal, from the Latin word
for hinges, these being metaphorically imaginable as the four hinges on which the door of morality pivots).
These are prudence (substituted for wisdom), fortitude or courage, temperance, and justice.

His

conception of justice is the familiar one of the virtue by which all people are given their due. But this is
connected to something new and distinctly Christianthe distinction between the temporal law, such as the

11
law of the state, and the eternal, divine law of God. The eternal law establishes the order of Gods divine
providence. And, since all temporal or human law must be consistent with Gods eternal law, Augustine can
draw the striking conclusion that, strictly speaking, an unjust law is no law at all, an oxymoron (Choice, pp.
20, 11, 8; cf. Religion, p. 89, for an analysis of justice that relates it to love). Thus a civil law of the state
that violates Gods eternal law is not morally binding and can be legitimately disobeyed in good conscience.
This was to have a profound and ongoing influence on Christian ethics.

In his masterpiece, The City of God, Augustine draws the dramatic conclusion from this position that the
Roman Empire was never a truly just political society. He expresses his disgust over its long history of
revolting injustice. Rome was always a pagan, earthly city, and true justice can allegedly only be found
in a Christian city of God. The just, rather than the powerful, should rule for the common good, rather
than serving their own self-interest. He strikingly compares unjust societies, based on might rather than on
right, to gangs of criminals on a large scale, for, without justice, a kingdom or empire is merely ruled by
the arbitrary fiat of some leader(s). A genuinely just society must be based on Christian love, its peaceful
order established by the following of two basic rulesthat people harm nobody and that they should try to
help everyone to the extent that they can do so (City, pp. 75, 67, 75, 138-139, 873).

Despite his Christian commitment to love and peace, Augustine is not a pacifist and can support just wars
as morally permissible and even as morally obligatory. Every war aims at the order of some sort of
established peace; while an unjust war aims to establish an unjust peace of domination, a just war aims to
establish a just peace. He agrees with Cicero that a just war must be defensive rather than aggressive
(ibid., pp. 861-862, 866, 868-869, 1031). In a letter (# 138) to Marcellinus, Augustine uses scripture to deny
that Christian doctrine is committed to pacifism, though wars should be waged, when necessary, with a
benevolent love for the enemy. In a letter (# 189) to Boniface, he maintains that godly, righteous people
can serve in the military, again citing scripture to support his position. He repeats the view that a just war
should aim at establishing a lasting and just peace and holds that one must keep faith with both ones allies
and ones enemies, even in the awful heat of warfare. Augustines most important treatment of the just war
theory is contained in his writing Against Faustus the Manichean, where he analyzes the evils of war in
terms of the desire to harm others, the lust for revenge and cruelty, and the wish to dominate other people.
In addition to the condition that a just war must aim at establishing a just and lasting peace, a second
condition is that it must be declared by a leader or body of leaders, with the authority to do so, after
deliberating that it is justified. Again Augustine makes it clear that he is no pacifist (Political, pp. 209, 219223).

While this is a very valuable application of his theory of justice, this doctrine of the just war standing the test
of time to this very day, the general theory on which it is based is more problematic. The unoriginal (and

12
uninspired) conception of justice as giving others their due had already become familiar to the point of
being trite. It remains vulnerable to the serious problems of vagueness already considered: what is the
relevant criterion whereby it should be determined who deserves what, and who is fit to make such a
judgment? But, also, Augustine should have an advantage over the ancient Greeks in arriving at a theory
of justice based on universal equality on account of the Christian doctrine (not to mention because of the
influences of Cicero, the Stoics, and Plotinus) that all humans are equally children of God. Unfortunately,
his zealous Christian evangelism leads him to identify justice itself, in a divisive, intolerant, polemical way,
with the Christian churchs idea of what God requires, so that only a Christian society can possibly qualify
as just, as if a just political society would need to be a theocracy. Thus, while he has some sense of some
moral or spiritual equality among humans, it does not issue in equal respect for all persons as free, rational
agents, allowing him, for example, to accept the institution of slavery as a just punishment for sin, despite
the belief that God originally created humans as naturally free, because of the idea that we have all been
corrupted by original sin (City, pp. 874-875).

b. Aquinas
As Augustine is arguably the greatest Christian Platonist, so Thomas Aquinas, from what is now Italy, is the
greatest Christian Aristotelian. Nevertheless, as we shall see, his theory of justice is also quite compatible
with Augustines. Aquinas discusses the same four cardinal moral virtues, including that of justice, in his
masterpiece, the multi-volume Summa Theologica.

No more a socio-political egalitarian than Plato,

Aristotle, or Augustine, he analyzes it as calling for proportional equality, or equity, rather than any sort of
strict numerical equality, and as a function of natural right rather than of positive law.

Natural right

ultimately stems from the eternal, immutable will of God, who created the world and governs it with divine
providence. Natural justice must always take precedence over the contingent agreements of our human
conventions. Human law must never contravene natural law, which is reasons way of understanding Gods
eternal law. He offers us an Aristotelian definition, maintaining that justice is a habit whereby a man
renders to each one his due by a constant and perpetual will. As a follower of Aristotle, he defines
concepts in terms of genus and species. In this case, the general category to which justice belongs is that
it is a moral habit of a virtuous character. What specifically distinguishes it from other moral virtues is that
by justice, a person is consistently committed to respecting the rights of others over time. Strictly speaking,
the virtue of justice always concerns interpersonal relations, so that it is only metaphorically that we can
speak of a person being just to himself. In addition to legal justice, whereby a person is committed to
serving the common good of the entire community, there is particular justice, which requires that we treat
individuals in certain ways. Justice is a rational mean between the vicious extremes of deficiency and
excess, having to do with our external actions regarding others. Like many of his predecessors, Aquinas
considers justice to be preeminent among the moral virtues. He agrees with Aristotle in analyzing particular
justice into two types, which he calls distributive and commutative; the former governs the proportional

13
distribution of common goods, while the latter concerns the reciprocal dealings between individuals in their
voluntary transactions (Law, pp. 137, 139, 145, 147, 155, 160, 163, 165).

Aquinas applies this theory of justice to many social problems. He maintains that natural law gives us the
right to own private property. Given this natural right, theft (surreptitiously stealing anothers property) and
robbery (taking it openly by force or the threat of violence) must be unjust, although an exception can arise
if the thief and his family are starving in an environment of plenty, in which case, stealing is justified and,
strictly speaking, not theft or robbery at all. Secondly, Aquinas refines the Augustinian just war theory by
articulating three conditions that must jointly be met in order for the waging of war to be just: (a) it must be
declared by a leader with socio-political authority; (b) it must be declared for a just cause, in that the
people attacked must be at fault and thus deserve it; and (c) those going to war must intend good and the
avoidance of evil. It is not justifiable deliberately to slay innocent noncombatants. It is legitimate to kill
another in self-defense, though ones intention should be that of saving oneself, the taking of the others life
merely being the necessary means to that good end (this, by the way, is the source of what later evolves
into the moral principle of double effect).

Even acting in self-defense must be done in reasonable

proportion to the situation, so that it is wrong to employ more force than is necessary to stop aggression.
Even killing another unintentionally can be unjust if done in the course of committing another crime or
through criminal negligence. Thirdly, while Aquinas thinks we should tolerate the religious beliefs of those
who have never been Christians, so that it would be unjust to persecute them, he thinks it just to use force
against heretics who adhered to but then rejected orthodox Christianity, even to the point of hurting them,
as in the Inquisition, for the good of their own souls. In an extreme case of recalcitrant heretics who will not
be persuaded to return to the truth of Christianity, it is allegedly just that they should be exterminated by
execution rather than being allowed to corrupt other Christians by espousing their heterodox religious
views. Fourth, like Augustine, Aquinas accepts slavery, so long as no Christian is the slave of a nonChristian (ibid., pp. 178-183, 186, 221, 224, 226, 228, 250, 256, 253), and considers it just that women
should be politically and economically subject to men. Although he considers women to be fully human,
he agrees with Aristotle that they are defective and misbegotten, the consequence allegedly being inferior
rational discretion (Summa, pp. 466-467).

From a critical perspective, his general theory of justice is, by now, quite familiar, a sort of blend of
Aristotles and Augustines, and marked by the same flaws as theirs. His applications of the theory can be
regarded as indicative of its problematic character: (a) given the assumption of a right to own private
property, his discussion of the injustices of theft and robbery seems quite reasonable; (b) assuming that we
have a right to self-defense, his analysis of the legitimacy of killing in a just war does also; (c) his attempted
defense of the persecution of religious heretics, even unto death, invites suspicions of dogmatic, intolerant
fanaticism on his part; and (d) his acceptance of slavery and the political and economic subjection of
women as just is indicative of an empirical orientation that is too uncritically accepting of the status quo.

14
Here again the Christian belief that all humans are personal creatures of a loving God is vitiated by an
insufficient commitment to the implications of that, regarding socio-political equality, so that only some
humans are fully respected as free, rational agents. The rationalistic theories of Plato and Augustine and
the classical empirical theories of Aristotle and Aquinas all leave us hoping that preferable alternatives
might be forthcoming.

3. Early Modernity
Although only half as much time elapses between Aquinas and Hobbes as did between Augustine and
Aquinas, from the perspective of intellectual history, the period of modernism represents a staggering seachange. We have neither the time nor the space to consider the complex causal nexus that explains this
fact; but, for our purposes, suffice it to say that the Protestant Reformation, the revolution of the new
science, and the progressive willingness publicly to challenge authority (both political and religious)
converge to generate a strikingly different philosophical mentality in the seventeenth century.

In the

previous century, the Protestant Reformation shattered the hegemony of the Roman Catholic Church, so
that thinkers need not feel so constrained to adhere to established orthodoxy. The naturalistic worldview of
the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries that eventuated in an empirical and experimental (nondogmatic) methodology in both natural and political science set an example for philosophers. Thinkers of
the modern era became increasingly comfortable breaking from the mainstream to pursue their own
independent reasoning. Although the influence of great ancient philosophers like Plato and Aristotle and of
great medieval thinkers such as Augustine and Aquinas would persist, there was no returning to their
bygone perspectives. This vitally affects moral and political theory, in general, and views on justice, in
particular. As we shall see in this section, views of justice as relative to human needs and interests became
prominent as they had not been for a couple of millennia. This will locate Hobbes and Hume closer to the
Sophists than had been fashionable since pre-Socratic times in philosophy, regarding justice as a social
construct.

a. Hobbes
Whereas Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas all offer accounts of justice that represent alternatives to
Sophism, Thomas Hobbes, the English radical empiricist, can be seen as resurrecting the Sophist view that
we can have no objective knowledge of it as a moral or political absolute value. His radical empiricism
does not allow him to claim to know anything not grounded in concrete sense experience. This leads him in
Leviathan, his masterpiece, to conclude that anything real must be material or corporeal in nature, that
body is the one and only sort of reality; this is the philosophical position of materialistic monism, which rules
out the possibility of any spiritual substance. On this view, a man is a living body, only different in kind
from other animals, but with no purely spiritual soul separating him from the beasts. Like other animals,
man is driven by instinct and appetite, his reason being a capacity of his brain for calculating means to

15
desirable ends.

Another controversial claim here is that all actions, including all human actions, are

causally determined to occur as they do by the complex of their antecedent conditions; this is causal
determinism. What we consider voluntary actions are simply those we perform in which the will plays a
significant causal role, human freedom amounting to nothing more exalted than the absence of external
restraints. Like other animals, we are always fundamentally motivated by a survival instinct and ultimately
driven by self-interest in all of our voluntary actions; this is psychological egoism. It is controversial whether
he also holds that self-interest should always be our fundamental motivation, which is ethical egoism. In
his most famous Chapter XIII, Hobbes paints a dramatic and disturbing portrait of what human life would be
like in a state of naturethat is, beyond the conventional order of civil society. We would be rationally
distrustful of one another, inclined to be anti-social, viewing others as threats to our own satisfaction and
well-being. Interpersonal antagonism would be natural; and, since there would exist no moral distinctions
between right and wrong, just and unjust, violent force and fraudulent deception would be desirable virtues
rather than objectionable vices. In short, this would be a state of war of every man against every man, a
condition in which we could not reasonably expect to survive for long or to enjoy any quality of life for as
long as we did. We are smart enough to realize that this would be a condition in which, as Hobbes
famously writes, the life of man would inevitably be solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short. Fortunately,
our natural passions of fear, desire, and hope motivate us to use reason to calculate how we might escape
this hellish state. Reason discovers a couple of basic laws of nature, indicating how we should prudently
behave if we are to have any reasonable opportunity to survive, let alone to thrive. The first of these is
double-sided: the positive side holds that we should try to establish peace with others, for our own selfish
good, if we can; the negative side holds that, if we cannot do that, then we should do whatever it takes to
destroy whoever might be a threat to our interests. The second law of nature maintains that, in order to
achieve peace with others, we must be willing to give up our right to harm them, so long as they agree to
reciprocate by renouncing their right to harm us.

This mutual transferring of right, established by

reciprocal agreement, is the so-called social contract that constitutes the basis of civil society; and the
agreement can be made either explicitly or implicitly (Leviathan, pp. 261-262, 459-460, 79, 136, 82, 95, 7478, 80-82; for comparable material, see Elements, pp. 78-84, 103-114, as well as Citizen, pp. 109-119, 123124).

What is conspicuously missing here is any sense of natural justice or injustice. In the state of nature, all
moral values are strictly relative to our desires: whatever seems likely to satisfy our desires appears good
to us, and whatever seems likely to frustrate our desires we regard as evil. Its all relative to what we
imaginatively associate with our own appetites and aversions. But as we move from this state of nature to
the state of civil society by means of the social contract, we create the rules of justice by means of the
agreements we strike with one another. Prior to the conventions of the contract, we were morally free to try
to do whatever we wished. But when a covenant is made, then to break it is unjust; and the definition of
injustice is no other than the not performance of covenant. What is not unjust, is just in civil society. This
turns out to be the third law of nature, that, in the name of justice, we must try to keep our agreements. In

16
civil society, we may justly do anything we have not, at least implicitly, committed ourselves not to do. A just
person typically does just actions, though committing one or a few unjust actions does not automatically
render that person unjust, especially if the unjust behavior stems from an error or sudden passion; on the
other hand, a person who is typically inclined to commit unjust actions is a guilty person. Still, if we are as
selfishly motivated by our own desires as Hobbes maintains, why should we not break our word and
voluntarily commit injustice, if doing so is likely to pay off for us and we imagine we might get away with it
(remember the problem posed by Glaucon with the story of the ring of Gyges)? Clearly one more element
is needed to prevent the quick disintegration of the rules of justice so artificially constructed by
interpersonal agreement. This is the power of sovereign authority. We need laws codifying the rules of
justice; and they must be so vigilantly and relentlessly enforced by absolute political power that nobody in
his right mind would dare to try to violate them. People simply cannot be trusted to honor their social
commitments without being forced to do so, since covenants without the sword are but words, and of no
strength to secure a man at all. In other words, we must sacrifice a great deal of our natural liberty to
achieve the sort of security without which life is hardly worth living. In civil society, our freedom is relative to
the lack of specified obligations, what Hobbes calls the silence of the law. If we worry that this invests too
much power in the government, which may abuse that power and excessively trample on our freedom, the
(cynical) response is that this is preferable to the chaos of the state of nature or to the horrors of civil war
(Leviathan, pp. 28-29, 89, 93, 106, 109, 143, 117; for comparable material, see Elements, pp. 88-89,
Citizen, pp. 136-140, and Common, p. 34). One of the most crucial problems of political philosophy is
where to strike the balance between personal liberty and public order; Hobbes is, perhaps, more willing
than most of us to give up a great deal of the former in order to secure the latter.

As we have with earlier thinkers, let us see how Hobbes applies this theory of justice, as a prelude to
evaluating it critically. He compares the laws of civil society to artificial chains binding us to obey the
sovereign authority of the state in the name of justice. The third law of nature, the law of justice, obliges us
to obey the positive laws of the state. Any deliberate violation of civil law is a crime. Now the social
problem to be considered is that of criminal punishment. This deliberately inflicts some sort of evil on an
alleged criminal for violating civil law. Its rationale is to enforce obedience to the law itself and, thus, to
promote security and public order. Hobbes lays down various conditions that must be met in order for such
an infliction of evil to qualify as legitimate punishment, including that no retroactive punishment is
justifiable. He also analyzes five sorts of criminal punishmentcorporal, or pecuniary, or ignominy, or
imprisonment, or exile, allowing for a combination of them; he also specifies that the corporal sort can be
capital punishment. It would be wrong for the state deliberately to punish a member of civil society believed
to be innocent; indeed, strictly speaking, it would not even qualify as punishment, as it fails to meet an
essential part of the definition. The severity of punishment should be relative to the severity of the crime
involved, since its rationale is to deter future violations of civil law (Leviathan, pp. 138, 173, 175, 185, 190,
203-208, 230; see, also, Elements, pp. 177-182, and Citizen, pp. 271-279; near the end of his verse
autobiographyElements, p. 264Hobbes writes, Justice I Teach, and Justice Reverence).

17

While this is a decent consequentialist theory of crime and punishment, the more general view of justice
from which it is derived is far more problematic. It does stand in sharp contrast to the theories of Plato,
Aristotle, Augustine, and Aquinas. It does revive something like the Sophist theory to which they were all
advocating alternatives. And it does reflect the naturalistic approach represented by the new science.
However, all the foundational elements supporting it are quite dubious:

the radical empiricism, the

materialism, the determinism, the egoism, the moral relativism, and the narrow conception of human
reason. Without these props, this theory of justice as artificially constructed by us and purely a function of
our interpersonal agreements seems entirely arbitrary. But in addition to its being insufficiently justified, this
theory of justice would justify too much. For example, what would prevent its involving a justification of
slavery, if the alternative for the slaves were death as enemies in a state of nature? Even apart from the
issue of slavery, in the absence of any substantive human rights, minorities in civil society might be denied
any set of civil liberties, such as the right to adopt religious practices to which they feel called in
conscience. Hobbess conception of justice is reductionistic, reducing it to conventional agreements that
seem skewed to sacrifice too much liberty on the altar of law and order.

b. Hume
As a transition between Hobbes and Hume, brief mention can be made of John Locke, the most important
political philosopher between them. (The reason he is not being considered at length here is that he does
not offer a distinctive general theory of justice.) In his masterful Second Treatise of Government, Locke
describes a state of nature governed by Gods law but insecure in that there is no mechanism for enforcing
it, when the natural rights of propertycomprising ones life, liberty, and estatesare violated. In order to
protect such property rights, people agree to a social contract that moves them from that state of nature to
a state of political society, with government established to enforce the law. Another great social contract
theorist between Hobbes and Hume who is worth mentioning here (again he gives us no distinctive theory
of justice) is Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In The Social Contract, he maintains that, in a well-ordered society,
the general will (rather than the will of any individual or group of individuals) must prevail. True freedom in
society requires following the general will, and those who do not choose to do so can legitimately be forced
to do so. A human being is allegedly so transformed by the move from the state of nature to that of civil
society as to become capable of such genuine freedom as will allow each citizen to consent to all the laws
out of deference to the common good.

David Hume, an eighteenth-century Scottish thinker, who is very

influenced by Lockes focus on property while rejecting the social contract theory of Hobbes, Locke, and
Rousseau, is an interesting philosopher to consider in relation to Hobbes. Like Hobbes, Hume is a radical
empiricist and a determinist who is skeptical of justice as an objective, absolute virtue. But Hume does not
explicitly embrace materialism, is not a psychological or ethical egoist, and famously attacks the social
contract theorys account of moral and political obligation on both historical grounds (there is no evidence
for it, and history shows that force rather than consent has been the basis of government) and philosophical

18
grounds (even if our ancestors had given their consent, that would not be binding on us, and utility is a
more plausible explanation of submission than genuine agreement) alike (Essays, pp. 186-201). In the
third section of his Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Hume argues that public utility is the sole
origin of justice. To place that claim in context, we can note that, like Hobbes, Hume sees all values,
including that of justice, as derived from our passions rather than (as Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, and
Aquinas thought) from reason. Any virtue, he maintains, is desirable in that it provides us with the pleasant
feeling of approval; and any vice, including that of injustice, is undesirable in that it provides us with the
painful sense of disapproval. In order to qualify as a virtue, a quality must be useful or agreeable to the
person himself or to others. It is possible for some virtues to be rich enough to fit appropriately in more
than one of these four categories (for example, benevolence seems to be useful and agreeable to both the
benevolent person and to others); but justice is purportedly a virtue only because it is useful to others, as
members of society. Hume offers us a unique and fascinating argument to prove his point. He imagines
four hypothetical scenarios, in which either human nature would be radically different (utterly altruistic or
brutally selfish) or our environment would be so (with everything we desire constantly and abundantly
available or so destitute that hardly anyone could survive), allegedly showing that, in each of them, justice
would not be a virtue at all. His conclusion is that justice is only a virtue because, relative to reality, which is
intermediate among these extremes, it is beneficial to us as members of society. He also refuses to identify
justice with perfect equality, maintaining that the ideal of egalitarianism is both impracticable and
extremely pernicious to human society. For Hume, the rules of justice essentially involve protecting
private property, although property rights are not absolute and may be abridged in extreme cases where
public safety and the common good require it. Even international relations normally require that rules of
justice be observed for mutual advantage, although public utility can also require that they should be
suspended (Enquiry, pp. 20, 85, 72, 21-25, 28-35; see also Essays, pp. 20, 202). Though different from
Hobbess theory, this one also leans towards the Sophist view of justice as conventional and relative.

In his masterpiece, A Treatise of Human Nature, Hume makes the striking claim, Reason is, and ought
only to be the slave of the passions, which rules out all forms of ethical rationalism. He also makes a
remarkable distinction between descriptive language regarding what is, and is not, on the one hand, and
prescriptive language concerning what ought, or ought not to be, on the other, challenging the possibility
of ever justifying value claims by means of any factual ones, of logically inferring what should be from what
is. The second part of Book 3 of Humes Treatise deals extensively with justice. Here he calls it an
artificial but not arbitrary virtue, in that we construct it as a virtue for our own purposes, relative to our
needs and circumstances, as we experience them.
cooperation, which is mutually advantageous.

It is valuable as a means to the end of social

An especially beneficial, if unnatural, convention is

respecting others property, which is what the rules of justice essentially require of us. The psychological
grounds of our sense of justice are a combination of self-interest and sympathy for others. He holds a
very conservative view of property rights, in that, normally, people should be allowed to keep what they
already have acquired. Indeed, justice normally comprises three principlesof the stability of possession,

19
of its transference by consent, and of the performance of promises. He rejects the traditional definition of
justice as giving others their due, because it rashly and wrongly assumes that right and property have
prior objective reality independent of conventions of justice. Internationally, the rules of justice assume the
status of the law of nations, obliging civilized governments to respect the ambassadors of other countries,
to declare war prior to engaging them in battle, to refrain from using poisonous weapons against them, and
so forth. The rationale for such principles of international justice is that they reduce the horrors of war and
facilitate the advantages of peace.

By respecting other societies possessions, leaders minimize the

likelihood of war; by respecting the transference of possessions by mutual consent, they enhance the
possibilities of international trade; and by keeping their promises, they create a climate for peaceful
alliances. A bit later, Hume adopts a position which, in the twentieth century, has been called a rule
utilitarian view of justice, writing that, though individual acts of justice might be contrary to public utility, they
ought to be performed if they are conducive to a general scheme or system of conduct that benefits
society as a whole (Treatise, pp. 266, 302, 311, 307, 312, 315, 320-321, 323, 337-338, 362-363, 370-371).
Yet the rules of justice that are normally conducive to public utility are never absolute and can be
legitimately contravened where following them would seem to do more harm than good to our society. He
applies this view to the issue of civil disobedience, which is normally unjust because it threatens public
utility but can be justified as a last resort in extraordinary circumstances when that same public utility is in
jeopardy (Essays, pp. 202-204). Whether that is or is not the case in specific circumstances becomes a
judgment call.

Hume is important here because of a convergence of several factors. First, like the Sophists and Hobbes,
he makes justice a social construct that is relative to human needs and interests. Second, like Hobbes, he
associates it fundamentally with human passions rather than with reason. Third, the virtue of justice and
the rules of justice are essentially connected to the protection of private property. And, fourth, he considers
public utility to be the sole basis of justice. This theory would prove extremely influential, in that Kant will
take issue with it, while utilitarians like Mill will build on its flexibility. This sort of flexibility is both a strength
and a weakness of Humes theory of justice. While it may be attractive to allow for exceptions to the rules,
this also creates a kind of instability. Is justice merely an instrumental good, having no intrinsic value? If
that were the case, then it would make sense to say that the role of reason is simply to calculate the most
effective means to our most desirable ends. But then, assuming that our ends were sufficiently desirable,
any means necessary to achieve them would presumably be justifiableso that, morally and politically,
anything goes, in principle, regardless how revolting. Finally, notice that Hume himself, because of the
empirical nature of his practical philosophy, fails to avoid the is-ought trap against which he so deftly
warned us:

because some end is sufficiently desired, whatever means are necessary, or even most

effective, to achieve it ought to be pursued. Is this the best we can do in our pursuit of an adequate theory
of justice?

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4. Recent Modernity
Moving from one of the greatest philosophers of the Enlightenment to the other, we shall see that Kant will
take more seriously the is-ought challenge than Hume himself did. As justice is both a moral and a
political virtue, helping to prescribe both a good character and right conduct, the question of how such
obligations arise is crucial. For Hume, we ought to pursue virtue (including justice) because it (allegedly) is
agreeable and/or useful to do so. But, then, what is the logical link here? Why should we, morally
speaking, act for the sake of agreeableness and utility? For Kant, the reason we should choose to do what
is right has nothing to do with good consequences.

It is merely because it is the right thing to do.

Conceding that prescriptive ought claims can never be logically deduced from any set of factually
descriptive is claims, Kant will forsake the empirical approach to justice (of Hobbes and Hume) in favor of
the sort of rationalistic one that will revert to seeing it as an absolute value, not to be compromised,
regardless of circumstances and likely consequences. Then we shall consider the utilitarian response to
this, as developed by the philosopher who is, arguably, the greatest consequentialist of modern times, John
Stuart Mill, who, as an empiricist, like Hobbes and Hume, will make what is right a function of what is good.

a. Kant
Immanuel Kant, an eighteenth-century German professor from East Prussia, found his rationalistic
philosophical convictions profoundly challenged by Humes formidable skepticism (as well as being
fascinated by the ideas of Rousseau). Even though he was not convinced by it, Kant was sufficiently
disturbed by it that he committed decades to trying to answer it, creating a revolutionary new philosophical
system in order to do so. This system includes, but is far from limited to, a vast, extensive practical
philosophy, comprising many books and essays, including a theory of justice. It is well known that this
practical philosophyincluding both his ethical theory and socio-political philosophyis the most renowned
example of deontology (from the Greek, meaning the study or science of duty). Whereas teleological or
consequentialist theories (such as those of Hobbes and Hume) see what is right as a function of and
relative to good ends, a deontological theory such as Kants sees what is right as independent of what we
conceive to be good and, thus, as potentially absolute. Justice categorically requires a respect for the right,
regardless of inconvenient or uncomfortable circumstances and regardless of desirable and undesirable
consequences. Because of the is-ought problem, the best way to proceed is to avoid the empirical
approach that is necessarily committed to trying to derive obligations from alleged facts.

This is precisely Kants approach in the foundational book of his system of practical philosophy, his
Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals. He argues, in its Preface, that, since the moral law must carry
with it absolute necessity and since empiricism only yields contingent and uncertain results, we must
proceed by way of pure practical reason, which would be, to the extent possible, purified of everything
empirical, such as physiological, psychological, and environmental contingencies. On this view, matters of

21
right will be equally applicable to all persons as potentially autonomous rational agents, regardless of any
contingent differences, of gender, racial or ethnic identity, socio-economic class status, and so forth. If Kant
can pull this off, it will take him further in the direction of equality of rights than any previous philosopher
considered here. In order to establish a concept of right that is independent of empirical needs, desires,
and interests, Kant argues for a single fundamental principle of all duty, which he calls the categorical
imperative, because it tells us what, as persons, we ought to do, unconditionally. It is a test we can use to
help us rationally to distinguish between right and wrong; and he offers three different formulations of it
which he considers three different ways of saying the same thing:

(a) the first is a formula of

universalizability, that we should try to do only what we could reasonably will should become a universal
law; (b) the second is a formula of respect for all persons, that we should try always to act in such a way as
to respect all persons, ourselves and all others, as intrinsically valuable ends in themselves and never
treat any persons merely as instrumental means to other ends; and (c) the third is a principle of autonomy,
that we, as morally autonomous rational agents, should try to act in such a way that we could be
reasonably legislating for a (hypothetical) moral republic of all persons. For the dignity of all persons,
rendering them intrinsically valuable and worthy of respect, is a function of their capacity for moral
autonomy. In his Metaphysics of Morals, Kant develops his ethical system, beyond this foundation, into a
doctrine of right and a doctrine of virtue. The former comprises strict duties of justice, while the latter
comprises broader duties of merit. Obviously, it is the former category, duties we owe all other persons,
regardless of circumstances and consequences, that concerns us here, justice being a matter of strict right
rather than one of meritorious virtue. At the very end of his Metaphysics of Morals, Kant briefly discusses
divine justice, whereby God legitimately punishes people for violating their duties (Ethical, pp. 2-3, 30-44,
36, 48, 158-161).

In his Metaphysical Elements of Justice, which constitutes the first part of his Metaphysics of Morals, Kant
develops his theory of justice. (His concept of Rechtslehreliterally, doctrine of righthas also been
translated as doctrine of justice and doctrine of law.) For Kant, justice is inextricably bound up with
obligations with which we can rightly be required to comply. To say that we have duties of justice to other
persons is to indicate that they have rights, against us, that we should perform those dutiesso that duties
of justice and rights are correlative. Three conditions must be met in order that the concept of justice
should apply: (a) we must be dealing with external interpersonal behaviors; (b) it must relate to willed
action and not merely to wishes, desires, and needs; and (c) the consequences intended are not morally
relevant. A person is not committing an injustice by considering stealing anothers property or in wanting to
do so, but only by voluntarily taking action to appropriate it without permission; and the act is not justified no
matter what good consequences may be intended. According to Kant, there is only one innate human right
possessed by all persons; that is the right freely to do what one wills, so long as that is compatible with the
freedom of everyone else in accordance with a universal law. Thus one persons right freely to act cannot
extend to infringing on the freedom of others or the violation of their rights. This leads to Kants ultimate
universal principle of justice, which is itself a categorical imperative: Every action is just [right] that in itself

22
or in its maxim is such that the freedom of the will of each can coexist together with the freedom of
everyone in accordance with a universal law. Although the use of coercive force against other persons
involves an attempt to restrict their freedom, this is not necessarily unjust, if it is used to counteract their
unjust abuse of freedomfor example, in self-defense or punishment or even war. Kant approvingly
invokes three ancient rules of justice: (1) we should be honest in our dealings with others; (2) we should
avoid being unjust towards others even if that requires our trying to avoid them altogether; and (3) if we
cannot avoid associating with others, we should at least try to respect their rights (Justice, pp. 29, 38, 3031, 37; see also Lectures, pp. 211-212).

Kant distinguishes between natural or private justice, on the one hand, and civil or public justice, on the
other. He has an intricate theory of property rights, which we can only touch upon here. We can claim, in
the name of justice, to have rights to (a) physical property, such as your car, (b) the performance of a
particular deed by another person, such as the auto shop keeping its agreement to try to fix your car, and
(c) certain characteristics of interpersonal relationships with those under our authority, such as obedient
children and respectful servants. Someone who steals your car or the auto mechanic who has agreed to fix
it and then fails to try to do so is doing you an injustice. Children, as developing but dependent persons,
have a right to support and care from their parents; but, in turn, they owe their parents obedience while
under their authority. Children are not the property of their parents and must never be treated like things or
objects; and, when they have become independent of their parents, they owe them nothing more than
gratitude. Similarly, a master must respect a servant as a person. The servant may be under contract to
serve the master, but that contract cannot be permanent or legitimately involve the giving up of the
servants personhood (in other words, one cannot justifiably enter into slavery). While the master has
authority over the servant, that must never be viewed as ownership or involve abuse. This all concerns
private or natural justice, having to do with the securing of property rights. Next let us next consider how
Kant applies his theory of justice to the problem of crime and punishment, in the area of public or civil
justice, involving protective, commutative, and distributive justice, the requirements of which can be
legitimately enforced by civil society. When a person commits a crime, that involves misusing freedom to
infringe the freedom of others or to violate their rights. Thus the criminal forfeits the right to freedom and
can become a legitimate prisoner of the state. Kant considers the rule that criminals should be punished
for their crimes to be a categorical imperative, a matter of just retribution not to be denied or even
mitigated for utilitarian reasons.

This extends to the ultimate punishment, the death penalty:

justice

requires that murderers, the most heinous criminals, should suffer capital punishment, as no lesser penalty
would be just. A third application to consider here is that of war. This is in the international part of public
justice that Kant calls the Law of Nations. He adopts a non-empirical version of the social contract theory,
interpreting it not as a historical fact mysteriously generating obligations but rather as a hypothetical idea of
what free and equal moral agents could reasonably agree to in the way of rules of justice. Unlike Hobbes,
he does not see this as a basis for all moral duty. It does account for the obligation we have to the state
and other citizens. But states have duties to other states, so that there is an international law of nations.

23
Even though different states, in the absence of international law, are in a natural condition of a state of war,
as Hobbes thought, he was wrong to think that, in that state, anything rightly goes and that there is no
justice. War is bad, and we should try to minimize the need for it, although Kant is not a pacifist and can
justify it for purposes of self-defense. Kant proposes an international league of nations to help provide for
mutual protection against external aggression and, thus, to discourage it and reduce the need to go to
war. Still, when war cannot be avoided, it should be declared rather than launched by means of a sneak
attack; secondly, there are legitimate limits that prohibit, for example, trying to exterminate or subjugate all
members of the enemy society; third, when a war is over, the winning party cannot destroy the civil freedom
of the losing parties, as by enslaving them; and, fourth, certain rights of peace must be assured and
honored for all involved. Thus the ultimate goal of international relations and of the league of nations
should be the ideal of perpetual peace among different states that share our planet (Justice, pp. 41, 43,
91-95, 113, 136-141, 146, 151-158; for more on Kants version of the social contract theory, see Writings,
pp. 73-85, and for more on his views on war and perpetual peace, see Writings, pp. 93-130). Thus we
see Kant applying his own theory of justice in three areas: in the area of private law having to do with the
securing of property rights, in the area of public law having to do with retributive punishment for crimes
committed, and in the area of international justice concerned with war and peace.

What shall we critically say about this theory? First, it argues for a sense of justice in terms of objective,
non-arbitrary rightagainst, say, Hobbes and Hume. Second, this sense of justice is of a piece with Kants
categorical imperative, in that the rules of justice (e.g., regarding property rights, punishment, and war) are
universalizable, designed to respect persons as intrinsically valuable, and conforming to the principle of
autonomy. Third, if Hume is correct in suggesting that we can never logically infer what ought to be from
what actually is, then Kants is the only theory we have considered thus far that can pass the test. To focus
the issue, ask the question, why should we be just? For Plato, this is the way to achieve the fulfillment of a
well-ordered soul. For Aristotle, the achievement and exercising of moral virtue is a necessary condition of
human flourishing. For Augustine and Aquinas, Gods eternal law requires that we, as Gods personal
creatures, should be just, with our salvation at stake.

For Hobbes, practicing justice is required by

enlightened self-interest. For Hume, even though our being just may not benefit us directly all the time, it is
conducive to public utility or the good of the society of which we are members. But for each of these
claims, we can ask, so what? If any combination of these claims were to turn out to be correct, we could
still legitimately ask why we should therefore be just. Are we to assume that we ought to do whatever it
takes to achieve a well-ordered soul or to flourish or to comply with Gods will or to serve our own selfinterest or public utility? Why? Consider Kants answer: we should try to be just because its the right
thing to do and because it is our duty, as rational, moral agents, to try to do what is right. Kants analysis of
justice works well; and, given that, his applications to property rights, crime and punishment, and war and
peace are also impressive.

Yet his theory is commonly rejected as too idealistic to be realistically

applicable in the so-called real world, because it maintains that some things can be absolutely unjust and
are, thus, categorically impermissible, regardless of likely consequences.

His theory as we have

24
considered it here is a paradigmatic example of the view of justice being advocated in this article, as
essentially requiring respect for persons as free, rational agents. Yet Kants inflexibility in other points of
application, such as in his absolute prohibition against lying to a would-be murderer in order to save
innocent human life (Ethical, pp. 162-166), his idea that women and servants are merely passive citizens
unfit to vote, and his categorical denial of any right to resistance or revolution against oppression (Justice,
pp. 120, 124-128), is problematic here, inviting an alternative such as is represented by Mills utilitarianism.

b. Mill
Let us consider a bit of Karl Marx (and his collaborator Friedrich Engels) as a quick transition between Kant
and Mill. Kant represents the very sort of bourgeois conception of justice against which Marx and Engels
protest in their call, in The Communist Manifesto, for a socialistic revolution. Marx explains the ideal of
socio-economic equality he advocates with the famous slogan that all should be required to contribute to
society to the extent of their abilities and all should be allowed to receive from society in accordance with
their needs.

John Stuart Mill, a nineteenth-century English philosopher, was aware of the call for a

Communist revolution and advocated progressive liberal reform as an alternative path to political evolution.
Whereas Kant was the first great deontologist, Mill subscribed to the already established tradition of
utilitarianism.

Although earlier British thinkers (including Hobbes and Hume) were proto-utilitarians,

incorporating elements of the theory into their own worldviews, the movement, as such, is usually thought
to stem from the publication of Jeremy Benthams Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation in
1789.

He there proposes the principle of utility, which he also later calls the greatest happiness

principle, as the desirable basis for individual and collective decision-making: By the principle of utility is
meant that principle which approves or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the tendency
which it appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question.
That single sentence establishes the ultimate criterion for utilitarian reasoning and the root of a great
movement. A famous lawyer named John Austin, under whom Mill studied, wrote a book of jurisprudence
based on Benthams principle of general utility. Mills father, James Mill, was a friend and disciple of
Bentham and educated his only son also to be a utilitarian. Near the end of his life, Mill observed that it
was the closest thing to a religion in which his father raised him. And, if he was not the founder of this
secular religion, he clearly became its most effective evangelist. In Utilitarianism, his own great essay in
ethical theory, Mill gives his own statement of the principle of utility (again employing a curiously religious
word): The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals, Utility, or the Greatest Happiness Principle,
holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce
the reverse of happiness. He immediately proceeds to interpret human happiness and unhappiness (as
Bentham had done) in hedonistic terms of pleasure and pain (Utilitarianism, pp. 33-34, 329, 257). This
presents the deceptive appearance of a remarkably simple rubric for practical judgment: if an action
generates an excess of pleasure over pain, that contributes to human happiness, which is our greatest
good, making the action right; on the other hand, if an action generates an excess of pain over pleasure,

25
that contributes to human unhappiness, which is our greatest evil, making the action wrong. But what is
deceptive about this is the notion that we can sufficiently anticipate future consequences to be able to
predict where our actions will lead us. (Notice, also, that unlike Kantian deontology, which makes what is
right independent of good consequences, utilitarianism makes the former a function of the latter.)

Mill acknowledges that concern about a possible conflict between utility and justice has always been one
of the strongest obstacles to the acceptance of utilitarianism. If permanently enslaving a minority could
produce overwhelming happiness for a majority (he was personally opposed to slavery as an
unconscionable violation of human liberty), then, given that utility is the value that trumps all others, why
shouldnt the injustice of slavery be accepted as a (regrettably) necessary means to a socially desirable
end, the former, however unfortunate, being thus justified? Mill thinks that the key to solving this alleged
problem is that of conceptual analysis, that if we properly understand what utility and justice are all
about, we shall be able to see that no genuine conflict between them is possible. We have already
discerned what the former concept means and now need to elucidate the latter.

Mill lays out five

dimensions of justice as we use the term: (1) respecting others legal rights is considered just, while
violating them is unjust; (2) respecting the moral right someone has to something is just, while violating it
is unjust; (3) it is considered just to give a person what he deserves and unjust to deny it; (4) it is thought
unjust to break faith with another, while keeping faith with others is just; and (5) in some circumstances, it
is deemed unjust to be partial in ones judgments and just to be impartial. People commonly associate all
of these with justice, and they do seem to represent legitimate aspects of the virtue. (Interestingly, Mill
rejects the idea of equality as essential to our understanding of justice, a stand which would be
problematic for Marxists.) As he seeks his own common denominator for these various dimensions of
justice, he observes that justice always goes beyond generic right and wrong to involve what some
individual person can claim from us as his moral right. This entails the legitimate sense that anyone who
has committed an injustice deserves to be punished somehow (which connects with Kant). Mill thinks all
this boils down to the idea that justice is a term for certain moral requirements, which, regarded
collectively, stand higher in the scale of social utility, being more obligatory than any others. But this
means that justice, properly understood, is a name for the most important of social utilities (ibid., pp. 296301, 305, 309, 320-321). Therefore there purportedly cannot be any genuine conflict between utility and
justice. If there ever were circumstances in which slavery were truly useful to humanity, then presumably it
would be just; the reason it is (typically) unjust is that it violates utility. The main goal here is to reduce
justice to social utility, in such a way as to rule out, by definition, any ultimate conflict between the two.
Thus, the social role played by our sense of justice is allegedly that it serves the common good.

Mills other great work is On Liberty, which provides us with a connecting link between this utilitarian theory
and applications of it to particular social issues. The problem Mill sets for himself here is where to draw a
reasonable line between areas in which society can rightly proscribe behavior and those in which people

26
should be allowed the freedom to do as they will. When is it just to interfere with a persons acting on
personal choice? To solve this problem, which is as relevant today as it was a century and a half ago, he
proposes his one very simple principle of liberty, which he states in two slightly different ways: (1) the
self-protection version holds that people can only legitimately interfere with the freedom of action of others
to protect themselves from them; (2) the harm version maintains that force can only be justifiably used
against other members of community to prevent their harming others. It is not acceptable to use power
against others to stop them from hurting only themselves.

Mill candidly admits that this principle is

reasonably feasible only with regard to mature, responsible members of civilized societiesnot to children
or to the insane or even necessarily to primitive peoples who cannot make informed judgments about their
own true good. He decisively renounces any appeal to abstract rights as a basis for this principle, basing it
simply on utility in the largest sense, grounded on the permanent interests of a man as a progressive
being. Notice that this presupposes that we can distinguish between other-regarding behavior, which may
be justifiably regulated, and purely self-regarding behavior, which may not be. If that turns out to be a false
distinction, then Mills theory may collapse. At any rate, he articulates at least three areas of social life in
which peoples liberty should be absolute and unqualified: (a) that of freedom of thought and expression;
(b) that of freedom of personal lifestyle; and (c) the freedom to associate with others of ones choice, so
long as it is for peaceful purposes. He seems confident that utility will always require that freedom be
protected in these areas (ibid., pp. 135-138). In other words, on this liberal utilitarian view, it would always
be unjust for an individual or a social group, in a civilized society, deliberately to interfere with a responsible,
rational persons actions in any combination of these areas.

Let us now see how Mill applies his utilitarian theory to three problems of justice that are still timely today.
First of all, the issue of punishment is one he considers in Utilitarianism, though his discussion is aimed at
considering alternative accounts rather than conclusively saying what he himself thinks (we might also
observe that, in this short passage, he attacks the social contract theory as a useless fiction) (ibid., pp. 311313). As a utilitarian, he favors the judicious use of punishment in order to deter criminal activity. He
believes in the utility/justice of self-defense and sees the right to punish as anchored in that. In 1868, as an
elected member of Parliament, he made a famous speech in the House of Commons supporting capital
punishment on utilitarian grounds. Although it is clear that he would like to be able to support a bill for its
abolition, the lawful order of society, a necessary condition of societal well-being, requires this means of
deterring the most heinous crimes, such as aggravated murder. He even thinks it a quicker, more humane
punishment than incarcerating someone behind bars for the rest of his life. Mill does worry about the
possibility of executing an innocent person, but he thinks a carefully managed legal system can render this
danger extremely rare (Punishment, pp. 266-272). Thus his utilitarian theory provides him with a basis
for supporting capital punishment as morally justifiable. A second famous application of his utilitarian theory
of justice Mill makes is to the issue of equal opportunity for women. In the very first paragraph of The
Subjection of Women, Mill maintains that the principle which regulates the existing social relations between
the two sexesthe legal subordination of one sex to the otheris wrong in itself, and now one of the chief

27
hindrances to human improvement; and that it ought to be replaced by a principle of perfect equality,
admitting no power or privilege on the one side, nor disability on the other. So he does not call for the
preferential treatment of affirmative action but only for equal opportunity. Unlike contemporary feminists,
he does not appeal to womens human rights as his rationale, but only to the maximization of human
happiness and the liberty that makes life valuable (Subjection, pp. 1, 26, 101). Here, again, we have an
issue of social justice to which his utilitarian theory is applied, generating liberal conclusions. Our third
issue of application is that of international non-intervention. Mills general principle here is that using force
against others is prima facie unjust. Although defensive wars can be justifiable, aggressive ones are not. It
can be justifiable to go to war without being attacked or directly threatened with an attack, for example, to
help civilize a barbarian society, which, as such, allegedly has no rights. It can be justifiable to save a
subjected population from the oppression of a despotic government (Non-Intervention, pp. 376-383). All
of this is presumably a function of utilitarian welfare. Once more, a still timely moral issue has been
addressed using the utilitarian theory of justice.

These applications all plausibly utilize the values and reasoning of utilitarianism, which, by its very nature,
must be consequentialist. From that perspective, the deterrence approach to punishment, including capital
punishment, seems appropriate, as do Mills call for equal opportunity for women and his measured position
on international interventionism. Surely, the premium he places on human happiness is admirable, as is his
universal perspective, which views all humans as counting. The problem is in his assumptions that all
values are relative to consequences, that human happiness is the ultimate good, and that this reduces to
the maximization of pleasure and the minimization of pain. The upshot of this position is that, in principle,
nothing can be categorically forbidden, that, given sufficiently desirable ends, any means necessary to
achieve them can be justified. If we really believe that there can be no genuine conflict between justice and
utility because the former is merely the most important part of the latter, then the rules of justice are
reducible to calculations regarding what is generally conducive to the greatest happiness for the greatest
number of peoplemere inductive generalizations which must permit of exceptions; at least Mills
ambiguity leaves him open to this interpretation. There would seem to be a tension in Mills thought: on the
one hand, he wants to respect the liberty of all (civilized) responsible persons as rational agents; but, on the
other hand, his commitment to utilitarianism would seem to subordinate that respect to the greatest good
for the greatest number of people, allowing for the possibility of sacrificing the interests of the few to those
of the many.

5. Contemporary Philosophers
From its founding, American political thought had an enduring focus on justice. The Preamble to the
American Constitution says that one of its primary goals is to establish justice. Founding father James
Madison, in 1788, wrote in The Federalist Papers that justice should be the goal of all government and of all

28
civil society, that people are willing to risk even liberty in its pursuit. American schoolchildren are made to
memorize and recite a Pledge of Allegiance that ends with the words with liberty and justice for all. So
justice is an abiding American ideal. We shall now consider how one of Americas greatest philosophers,
John Rawls, addresses this ideal. We should notice how he places a greater emphasis on equality than do
most of his European predecessorsperhaps reflecting the conviction of the American Declaration of
Independence that all men are created equal. (This greater emphasis may reflect the influence of Marx,
whom he occasionally mentions.) After considering the formidable contributions of Rawls to justice theory
and some of its applications, we shall conclude this survey with a brief treatment of several post-Rawlsian
alternatives. A key focus that will distinguish this section from previous ones is the effort to achieve a
conception of justice that strikes a reasonable balance between liberty and equality.

a. Rawls
Rawls burst into prominence in 1958 with the publication of his game-changing paper, Justice as
Fairness. Though it was not his first important publication, it revived the social contract theory that had
been languishing in the wake of Humes critique and its denigration by utilitarians and pragmatists, though it
was a Kantian version of it that Rawls advocated. This led to a greatly developed book version, A Theory of
Justice, published in 1971, arguably the most important book of American philosophy published in the
second half of the last century. Rawls makes it clear that his theory, which he calls justice as fairness,
assumes a Kantian view of persons as free and equal, morally autonomous, rational agents, who are not
necessarily egoists. He also makes it clear early on that he means to present his theory as a preferable
alternative to that of utilitarians. He asks us to imagine persons in a hypothetical initial situation which he
calls the original position (corresponding to the state of nature or natural condition of Hobbes, but
clearly not presented as any sort of historical or pre-historical fact). This is strikingly characterized by what
Rawls calls the veil of ignorance, a device designed to minimize the influence of selfish bias in attempting
to determine what would be just. If you must decide on what sort of society you could commit yourself to
accepting as a permanent member and were not allowed to factor in specific knowledge about yourself
such as your gender, race, ethnic identity, level of intelligence, physical strength, quickness and stamina,
and so forththen you would presumably exercise the rational choice to make the society as fair for
everyone as possible, lest you find yourself at the bottom of that society for the rest of your life. In such a
purely hypothetical situation, Rawls believes that we would rationally adopt two basic principles of justice
for our society: the first requires equality in the assignment of basic rights and duties, while the second
holds that social and economic inequalities, for example inequalities of wealth and authority, are just only if
they result in compensating benefits for everyone, and in particular for the least advantaged members of
society. Here we see Rawls conceiving of justice, the primary social virtue, as requiring equal basic
liberties for all citizens and a presumption of equality even regarding socio-economic goods.

He

emphasizes the point that these principles rule out as unjust the utilitarian justification of disadvantages for
some on account of greater advantages for others, since that would be rationally unacceptable to one

29
operating under the veil of ignorance. Like Kant, Rawls is opposed to the teleological or consequentialist
gambit of defining the right (including the just) in terms of maximizing the good; he rather, like Kant, the
deontologist, is committed to a priority of the right over the good. Justice is not reducible to utility or
pragmatic desirability. We should notice that the first principle of justice, which requires maximum equality
of rights and duties for all members of society, is prior in serial or lexical order to the second, which
specifies how socio-economic inequalities can be justified (Theory, pp. 12-26, 31, 42-43). Again, this is
anti-utilitarian, in that no increase in socio-economic benefits for anyone can ever justify anything less than
maximum equality of rights and duties for all. Thus, for example, if enslaving a few members of society
generated vastly more benefits for the majority than liabilities for them, such a bargain would be
categorically ruled out as unjust.

Rawls proceeds to develop his articulation of these two principles of justice more carefully. He reformulates
the first one in terms of maximum equal liberty, writing that each person is to have an equal right to the
most extensive basic liberty compatible with a similar liberty for others.

The basic liberties intended

concern such civil rights as are protected in our Constitutionfree speech, freedom of assembly, freedom
of conscience, the right to private property, the rights to vote and hold public office, freedom from arbitrary
arrest and seizure, etc. The lexical priority of this first principle requires that it be categorical in that the only
justification for limiting any basic liberties would be to enhance other basic liberties; for example, it might be
just to limit free access of the press to a sensational legal proceeding in order to protect the right of the
accused to a fair trial.

Rawls restates his second principle to maintain that social and economic

inequalities are to be arranged so that they are both (a) reasonably expected to be to everyones
advantage, and (b) attached to positions and offices open to all. Thus socio-economic inequalities can be
justified, but only if both conditions are met. The first condition (a) is the difference principle and takes
seriously the idea that every socio-economic difference separating one member of society from others must
be beneficial to all, including the person ranked lowest. The second condition is one of fair equality of
opportunity, in that socio-economic advantages must be connected to positions to which all members of
society could have access. For example, the office of the presidency has attached to it greater social
prestige and income than is available to most of us. Is that just? It can be, assuming that all of us, as
citizens, could achieve that office with its compensations and that even those of us at or near the bottom of
the socio-economic scale benefit from intelligent, talented people accepting the awesome responsibilities of
that office. Just as the first principle must be lexically prior to the second, Rawls also maintains that fair
opportunity is prior to the difference principle. Thus, if we have to choose between equal opportunity for all
and socio-economically benefiting the least advantaged members of society, the former has priority over
the latter. Most of us today might be readily sympathetic to the first principle and the equal opportunity
condition, while finding the difference principle to be objectionably egalitarian, to the point of threatening
incentives to contribute more than is required. Rawls does consider a mixed conception of justice that
most of us would regard as more attractive arising when the principle of average utility constrained by a
certain social minimum is substituted for the difference principle, everything else remaining unchanged.

30
But there would be a problem of fairly agreeing on that acceptable social minimum, and it would change
with shifting contingent circumstances.

It is curious that his own theory of justice as fairness gets

attacked by socialists such as Nielsen (whom we shall consider) for sacrificing equality for the sake of
liberty and by libertarians such as Nozick (whom we shall also consider) for giving up too much liberty for
the sake of equality. Rawls briefly suggests that his theory of justice as fairness might be applied to
international relations, in general, and to just war theory, in particular (ibid., pp. 60-65, 75, 83, 302-303, 316,
378).

Rawls applies his theory of justice to the domestic issue of civil disobedience. No society is perfectly just.
A generally or nearly just society can have unjust laws, in which case its citizens may or may not have a
duty to comply with them, depending on how severely unjust they are. If the severity of the injustice is not
great, then respect for democratic majority rule might morally dictate compliance. Otherwise, citizens can
feel a moral obligation to engage in civil disobedience, which Rawls defines as a public, nonviolent,
conscientious yet political act contrary to law usually done with the aim of bringing about a change in the
law or policies of the government. Certain conditions must be met in order that an act of civil disobedience
be justified: (1) it should normally address violations of equal civil liberties (the first principle of justice)
and/or of fair equality of opportunity (the second part of the second principle), with violations of the
difference principle (the first part of the second principle) being murkier and, thus, harder to justify; (2) the
act of civil disobedience should come only after appeals to the political majority have been reasonably tried
and failed; (3) it must seem likely to accomplish more good than harm for the social order. Yet, even if all
three of these conditions seem to be met and the disobedient action seems right, there remains the
practical question of whether it would be wise or prudent, under the circumstances, to engage in the act of
civil disobedience. Ultimately, every individual must decide for himself or herself whether such action is
morally and prudentially justifiable or not as reasonably and responsibly as possible. The acts of civil
disobedience of Martin Luther King (to whom Rawls refers in a footnote) seem to have met all the
conditions, to have been done in the name of justice, and to have been morally justified (ibid., pp. 350-357,
363-367, 372-376, 389-390, 364n).

Rawlss second book was Political Liberalism. Here he works out how a just political conception might
develop a workable overlapping consensus despite the challenges to social union posed by a pluralism of
reasonable comprehensive doctrines. This, of course, calls for some explanation. A just society must
protect basic liberties equally for all of its members, including freedom of thought and its necessary
condition, freedom of expression. But, in a free society that protects these basic liberties, a pluralism of
views and values is likely to develop, such that people can seriously disagree about matters they hold dear.
They will develop their own comprehensive doctrines, or systems of beliefs that may govern all significant
aspects of their lives. These may be religious (like Christianity) or philosophical (like Kantianism) or moral
(like utilitarian). Yet a variety of potentially conflicting comprehensive doctrines may be such that all are

31
reasonable. In such a case, social unity requires respect for and tolerance of other sets of beliefs. It would
be unjust deliberately to suppress reasonable comprehensive doctrines merely because they are different
from our own. The problem of political liberalism nowadays is how we can establish a stable and just
society whose free and equal citizens are deeply divided by conflicting and even incommensurable
religious, philosophical, and moral doctrines. What is needed is a shared political conception of justice
that is neutral regarding competing comprehensive doctrines.

This could allow for an overlapping

consensus of reasonable comprehensive doctrines, such that tolerance and mutual respect are operative
even among those committed to incompatible views and values, so long as they are reasonable
(Liberalism, pp. 291-292, 340-342, 145, xviii, 13, 152n., 59-60, 133, 154-155, 144, 134).

Thus, for

example, a Christian Kantian and an atheistic utilitarian, while sincerely disagreeing on many ethical
principles, philosophical ideas, and religious beliefs, can unite in mutually accepting, for instance, the
American Constitution as properly binding on all of us equally. This agreement will enable them mutually to
participate in social cooperation, the terms of which are fair and reciprocal and which can contribute to the
reasonable good of the entire society.

Near the end of his life, Rawls published The Law of Peoples, in which he tried to apply his theory of justice
to international relations. Given that not all societies act justly and that societies have a right to defend
themselves against aggressive violent force, there can be a right to go to war (jus ad bellum). Yet even
then, not all is fair in war, and rules of just warfare (jus in bello) should be observed: (1) the goal must be a
just and lasting peace; (2) it must be waged in defense of freedom and security from aggression; (3)
reasonable attempts must be made not to attack innocent non-combatants; (4) the human rights of
enemies (for example, against being tortured) must be respected; (5) attempts should be made to establish
peaceful relations; and (6) practical tactics must always remain within the parameters of moral principles.
After hostilities have ceased, just conquerors must treat their conquered former enemies with respectnot,
for example, enslaving them or denying them civil liberties. Rawls adds a very controversial supreme
emergency exemption in relation to the third rulewhen a relatively just societys very survival is in
desperate peril, its attacking enemy civilian populations, as by bombing cities, can be justifiable. More
generally, Rawls applies his theory of justice to international relations, generating eight rules regarding how
the people of other societies must be treated. While we do not have time to explore them all here, the last
one is sufficiently provocative to be worth our considering: Peoples have a duty to assist other peoples
living under unfavorable conditions that prevent their having a just or decent political and social regime.
This, of course, goes beyond not exploiting, cheating, manipulating, deceiving, and interfering with others to
a positive duty of trying to help them, at the cost of time, money, and other resources. Justice demands
that we try to assist what Rawls calls burdened societies, so that doing so is not morally supererogatory.
What is most interesting here is what Rawls refuses to say.

While different peoples, internationally

speaking, might be imagined in an original position under the veil of ignorance, and Rawls would favor
encouraging equal liberties and opportunities for all, he refuses to apply the difference principle globally in

32
such a way as to indicate that justice requires a massive redistribution of wealth from richer to poorer
societies (Peoples, pp. 94-96, 98-99, 37, 106, 114-117).

From a critical perspective, Rawlss theory of civil disobedience is excellent, as are his theory of political
liberalism and his version of the just war theory, except for that supreme emergency exemption, which
uncharacteristically tries to make right a function of teleological good. His views on international aid seem
so well worked out that, ironically, they call into question part of his general theory of justice itself. It does
not seem plausible that the difference principle should apply intrasocietally but not internationally. The
problem may be with the difference principle itself. It is not at all clear that rational agents in a hypothetical
original position would adopt such an egalitarian principle.

The veil of ignorance leading to this

controversial principle can itself be questioned as artificial and unrealistic; one might object that, far from
being methodologically neutral, it sets up a bias (towards, for example, being risk-aversive) that renders
Rawlss own favored principles of justice almost a foregone conclusion. Indeed, the mixed conception
that Rawls himself considers and rejects seems more plausible and more universally applicablekeeping
the first principle and the second part of the second but replacing the difference principle with one of
average utility, constrained by some social minimum, adjustable with changing circumstances. Thus we
could satisfactorily specify the requirements of an essentially Kantian conception of justice, as requiring
respect for the dignity of all persons as free and equal, rational moral agents. While less egalitarian than
what Rawls offers, it might prove an attractive alternative. To what extent should liberty be constrained by
equality in a just society? This is a central issue that divides him from many post-Rawlsians, to a few of
whom we now briefly turn.

b. Post-Rawls
Rawlss monumental work on justice theory revitalized political philosophy in the United States and other
English-speaking countries. In this final subsection, we shall briefly survey some of the most important
recent attempts to provide preferable alternatives to Rawlss conception of justice. They will represent six
different approaches. We shall consider, in succession, (1) the libertarian approach of Robert Nozick, (2)
the socialistic one of Kai Nielsen, (3) the communitarian one of Michael Sandel, (4) the globalist one of
Thomas Pogge, (5) the feminist one of Martha Nussbaum, and (6) the rights-based one of Michael Boylan.
As this is merely a quick survey, we shall not delve much into the details of their theories (limiting ourselves
to a single work by each) or explore their applications or do much in the way of a critique of them. But the
point will be to get a sense of several recent approaches to developing views of justice in the wake of
Rawls.

(1)

Nozick

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Nozick (a departmental colleague of Rawls at Harvard) was one of the first and remains one of the most
famous critics of Rawlss liberal theory of justice. Both are fundamentally committed to individual liberty.
But as a libertarian, Nozick is opposed to compromising individual liberty in order to promote socioeconomic equality and advocates a minimal state as the only sort that can be socially just. In Anarchy,
State, and Utopia (1974), especially in its famous chapter on Distributive Justice, while praising Rawlss
first book as the most important work in political and moral philosophy since that of Mill, Nozick argues for
what he calls an entitlement conception of justice in terms of three principles of just holdings. First,
anyone who justly acquires any holding is rightly entitled to keep and use it. Second, anyone who acquires
any holding by means of a just transfer of property is rightly entitled to keep and use it. It is only through
some combination of these two approaches that anyone is rightly entitled to any holding. But some people
acquire holdings unjustlye.g., by theft or fraud or forceso that there are illegitimate holdings. So, third,
justice can require the rectification of unjust past acquisitions. These three principles of just holdingsthe
principle of acquisition of holdings, the principle of transfer of holdings, and the principle of rectification of
the violations of the first two principlesconstitute the core of Nozicks libertarian entitlement theory of
justice. People should be entitled to use their own property as they see fit, so long as they are entitled to it.
On this view, any pattern of distribution, such as Rawlss difference principle, that would force people to
give up any holdings to which they are entitled in order to give it to someone else (i.e., a redistribution of
wealth) is unjust. Thus, for Nozick, any state, such as ours or one Rawls would favor, that is more
extensive than a minimal state and redistributes wealth by taxing those who are relatively well off to benefit
the disadvantaged necessarily violates peoples rights (State, pp. 149, 183, 230, 150-153, 230-231, 149).

(2)

Nielsen

Nielsen, as a socialist (against both Rawls and Nozick) considers equality to be a more fundamental ideal
than individual liberty; this is more in keeping with Marxism than with the liberal/libertarian tradition that has
largely stemmed from Locke. (Whereas capitalism supports the ownership and control of the means of
producing and distribution material goods by private capital or wealth, socialism holds that they should be
owned and controlled by society as a whole.) If Nozick accuses Rawls of going too far in requiring a
redistribution of wealth, Nielsen criticizes him for favoring individual liberty at the expense of social equality.
In direct contrast to Rawlss two liberal principles of justice, in Radical Egalitarian Justice: Justice as
Equality, Nielsen proposes his own two socialistic principles constituting the core of his egalitarian
conception of justice. In his first principle, he calls for equal basic liberties and opportunities (rather than
for merely equal basic liberties), including the opportunities for meaningful work, for self-determination,
and political participation, which he considers important to promote equal moral autonomy and equal selfrespect. Also (unlike Rawls) he does not claim any lexical priority for either principle over the other. His

34
sharper departure from Rawls can be found in his second principle, which is to replace the difference
principle that allegedly justified socio-economic inequality. After specifying a few qualifications, it calls for
the income and wealth of society to be so divided that each person will have a right to an equal share
and for the burdens of society also to be equally shared, subject, of course, to limitations by differing
abilities and differing situations. He argues that his own second principle would better promote equal selfrespect and equal moral autonomy among the members of society. Thus we might eliminate social
stratification and class exploitation, in accordance with the ideals of Marxist humanism (Equality, pp. 209,
211-213, 222-225).

(3)

Sandel

Sandel, as a communitarian, argues (against Rawls and Nozick) that the well-being of a community takes
precedence over individual liberty and (against Nielsen) over the socio-economic welfare of its members.
While acknowledging that Rawls is not so narrowly individualistic as to rule out the value of building social
community, in Liberalism and the Limits of Justice, he maintains that the individualism of persons in the
original position is such that a sense of community is not a basic constituent of their identify as such, so
that community is bound to remain secondary and derivative in the Rawlsian theory.

To deny that

community values help constitute ones personal identity is to render impossible any preexisting
interpersonal good from which a sense of right can be derived. Thus, for Sandel, Rawlss myopic theory of
human nature gives him no basis for any pre-political natural rights. So his conception of justice based on
this impoverished view must fail to reflect the shared self-understandings of who they are as members of
community that must undergird the basic structure of political society.

Through the interpersonal

relationships of community, we establish more or less enduring attachments and commitments that help
define who we are, as well as the values that will help characterize our sense of justice as a common good
that cannot be properly understood by individuals detached from community. Thus justice must determine
what is right as serving the goods we embrace in a social contextas members of this family or
community or nation or people, as bearers of this history, as sons and daughters of that revolution, as
citizens of this republic rather than as abstract individuals (Limits, pp. 66, 60-65, 87, 150, 172-174, 179,
183, 179).

(4)

Pogge

Pogge develops a globalist interpretation of justice as fairness that, in a sense, is more consistent than
Rawlss own. More specifically, it not only accepts the difference principle but wants to apply it on an
international level as well as nationally. In An Egalitarian Law of Peoples, Pogge observes that Rawls

35
means his theory of justice to be relatively egalitarian. And, as applied intranationally, so it is. But, as
applied internationally, it is not. As he says, there is a disconnect between Rawlss conception of domestic
and of global justice. (We should note that, like Sandels critique, which we just considered, Pogges is not
a complete theory of justice, but more a modification of Rawlss own.) While Rawls does believe that welloff societies have a duty to assist burdened societies, he rejects the idea of a global application of his
difference principle. What Pogge is proposing is a global egalitarian principle of distributive justice. He
thinks that this will address socio-economic equalities that are to the detriment of the worlds worst-off
persons. What he proposes is a global resources tax, or GRT. This means that, although each of the
peoples of our planet owns and fully controls all resources within its national territory, it will be taxed on all
of the resources it extracts. If it uses those extracted resources itself, it must pay the tax itself. If it sells
some to other societies, presumably at least part of the tax burden will be borne by buyers in the form of
higher sales prices. The GRT is then a tax on consumption of our planets resources. Corporations
extracting resources (such as oil companies and coal mining companies) would pay their taxes to their
governments which, in turn, would be responsible for transferring funds to disadvantaged societies to help
the global poor. Such payments should be regarded as a matter of entitlement rather than charity, an
obligation of international justice. If the governments of the poorer states were honest, they could disburse
the funds; if they were corrupt, then transfers could go through United Nations agencies and/or
nongovernmental organizations. At any rate, they should be channeled toward societies in which they
could improve the lot of the poor and disadvantaged. (Of course, less well-off societies would be free to
refuse such funds, if they so chose.) But, one might wonder, would well-off societies only be motivated to
pay their fair share by benevolence, a sense of justice, and possible shame at being exposed for not doing
so? No, there could be international sanctions: Once the agency facilitating the flow of GRT payments
reports that a country has not met its obligations under the scheme, all other countries are required to
impose duties on imports from, and perhaps also similar levies on exports to, this country to raise funds
equivalent to its GRT obligations plus the cost of these enforcement measures. Pogge believes that welloff societies should recognize that his more egalitarian model of international relations is also more just
than Rawlss law of peoples (Egalitarian, pp. 195-196, 210, 199-202, 205, 219, 224).

(5)

Nussbaum

Nussbaum, like Pogge (and unlike Nozick and Nielsen), does not so much reject Rawlss liberal conception
of justice as extend its explicit application.

In Sex and Social Justice, she argues for a feminist

interpretation of justice, using what she calls a capabilities approach that connects with the tradition of
Kantian liberalism, nowadays represented by Rawls, tapping into their notions of dignity and liberty, as a
foundation for discussing the demands of justice regarding womens equality and womens human rights.
The feminism she embraces has five key dimensions: (1) an internationalism, such that it is not limited to
any one particular culture; (2) a humanism, such as affirms a basic equal worth in all human beings and

36
promotes justice for all; (3) a commitment to liberalism as the perspective that best protects and promotes
the basic human capacities for choice and reasoning that render all humans as having an equal worth; (4)
a sensitivity to the cultural shaping of our preferences and desires; and (5) a concern for sympathetic
understanding between the sexes. She expresses an appreciation for the primary goods at the core of
Rawlss theory, while asserting that his analysis does not go far enough. She offers her own list of ten
central human functional capabilities that must be respected by a just society: (1) life of a normal, natural
duration; (2) bodily health and integrity, including adequate nourishment and shelter; (3) bodily integrity
regarding, for example, freedom of movement and security against assault; (4) freedom to exercise ones
senses, imagination, and thought as one pleases, which includes freedom of expression; (5) freedom to
form emotional attachments to persons and things, which includes freedom of association; (6) the
development and exercise of practical reason, the capacity to form ones own conception of the good and
to try to plan ones own life, which includes the protection of freedom of conscience; (7) freedom of
affiliation on equal terms with others, which involves provisions of nondiscrimination; (8) concern for and
possible relationships with animals, plants, and the world of nature; (9) the freedom to play, to seek
amusement, and to enjoy recreational activities; and (10) some control over ones own political
environment, including the right to vote, and ones material environment, including the rights to seek
meaningful work and to hold property. All of these capabilities are essential to our functioning as flourishing
human beings and should be assured for all citizens of a just society. But, historically, women have been
and still are short-changed with respect to them and should be guaranteed their protection in the name of
justice (Sex, pp. 24, 6-14, 34, 40-42).

(6)

Boylan

Boylan has recently presented a rights-based deontological approach based upon the necessary
conditions for human action. In A Just Society, he observes that human goods are more or less deeply
embedded as conditions of human action, leading to a hierarchy that can be set forth. There are two
levels of basic goods. The most deeply embedded of these, such as food, clothing, shelter, protection from
physical harm, are absolutely necessary for any meaningful human action. The second level of basic
goods comprises (less) deeply embedded ones, such as basic knowledge and skills such as are imparted
by education, social structures that allow us to trust one another, basic assurance that we will not be
exploited, and the protection of basic human rights. Next, there are three levels of secondary goods. The
most embedded of these are life enhancing, if not necessary for any meaningful action, such as respect,
equal opportunity, and the capacity to form and follow ones own plan of life and to participate actively and
equally in community, characterized by shared values. A second level of secondary goods comprises those
that are useful for human action, such as having and being able to use property, being able to benefit from
ones own labor, and being able to pursue goods typically owned by most of ones fellow citizens. The third
level of secondary goods comprises those that are least embedded as conditions of meaningful action but

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still desirable as luxuries, such as being able to seek pleasant objectives that most of ones fellow citizens
cannot expect to achieve and being able to compete for somewhat more than others in ones society. The
more deeply embedded goods are as conditions of meaningful human action, the more right to them people
have. Boylan follows Kant and Rawls in holding an ultimate moral imperative is that individual human
agents and their rights must be respected. This is a matter of justice, distributive justice involving a fair
distribution of social goods and services and retributive justice involving proper ways for society to treat
those who violate the rules. A just society has a duty to provide basic goods equally to all of its members, if
it can do so. But things get more complicated with regards to secondary goods. A just society will try to
provide the first level of secondary goods, those that are life enhancing, equally to all its members. Yet this
becomes more problematic with the second and third levels of secondary goodsthose that are useful and
luxuriousas the conditions for meaningful human action have already been satisfied by more deeply
embedded ones. The need that people have to derive rewards for their work commensurate with their
achievement would seem to militate against any guarantee of equal shares in these, even if society could
provide them, although comparable achievement should be comparably rewarded. Finally, in the area of
retributive justice, we may briefly consider three scenarios. First, when one person takes a tangible good
from another person, justice requires that the perpetrator return to the victim some tangible good(s) of
comparable worth, plus compensation proportionate to the harm done the victim by the loss. Second,
when one person takes an intangible good from another person, justice requires that the perpetrator give
the victim some tangible good as adequate compensation for the pain and suffering caused by the loss.
And, third, when one person injures another person through the deprivation of a valued good that
negatively affects society, society can justly incarcerate the perpetrator for a period of time proportionate to
the loss (Society, pp. x, 53-54, 56-58, 131, 138, 143-144, 164-167, 174-175, 181, 183).

In conclusion, we might observe that, in this rights-based alternative, as in the previous five (the libertarian,
the socialistic, the communitarian, the globalist, and the feminist) we have considered, there is an attempt
to interpret justice as requiring respect for the dignity of all persons as free and equal, rational moral
agents. This historical survey has tracked the progressive development of this Kantian idea as becoming
increasingly prominent in Western theories of justice.