People have accidents. They get old. They eat too much. They have bad luck. And sooner or later, something will be fatal. It would be a better world if such things did not happen, but they do. There is no use arguing about it. What is worth arguing about is whether it makes for a better world when people have to pay for other people's misfortunes and mistakes rather than (or as well as) their own.

Today there is a tendency to do ethics on the basis of what I should like to call the “self-other model.” On this view, an action has no moral worth unless it benefits others–and not even then, unless it is motivated by altruism rather than selfishness. This radical rift between self-interest and virtue traces back at least to Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 b.c.–50 a.d.), according to whom, “lovers of self, when they have stripped and prepared for conflict with those who value virtue, keep up the boxing and wrestling until they have either forced their opponents to give in, or have completely destroyed them.” More recently, the distinction between those who value themselves and those who “value virtue” has been drawn sharply by Bernard Williams: “[I]n moral theory … it is not the Kantian leap from the particular and the affective to the rational and universal that makes all the difference; it is rather the Humean step–that is to say, the first Humean step–from the self to someone else.”

There is a traditional understanding of what morality is, an under-standing that most contemporary moral philosophers take for granted. This understanding is not itself a theory, but rather an account of the phenomenon of morality, to which these philosophers have thought any theory of the phenomenon must conform if it is to be considered successful as either an explanation or a justification of our moral life. According to this account, there are three prominent features that, together, characterize the moral:

First, moral action and moral regard are taken to be other-regarding. While some philosophers have identified a certain kind of self-respect as part of morality, in general morality has been thought to involve duties to others, requiring that they be treated with respect. Self-interest is generally taken to be outside the province of the moral.

The social-welfare world of the poor has changed considerably since the turn of the century. It is not difficult to find dramatic evidence of progress. Most obviously, there has been a substantial reduction in the percentage of Americans who are poor. Even in 1929, about 40 percent of the population still lived in poverty. The corresponding figure for 1993 was 15.1 percent. The poor have also enjoyed notable material and physical gains in terms of income, diet, health, and housing conditions.

Philosophers have debated for millennia about whether moral requirements are always rational to follow. The background for these debates is often what I shall call “the self-interest model.” The guiding assumption here is that the basic demand of reason, to each person, is that one must, above all, advance one's self-interest. Alternatively, debate may be framed by a related, but significantly different, assumption: the idea that the basic rational requirement is to develop and pursue a set of personal ends in an informed, efficient, and coherent way, whether one's choice of ends is based on self-interested desires or not. For brevity I refer to this as “the coherence-and-efficiency model.” Advocates of both models tend to think that, while it is sufficiently clear in principle what the rational thing to do is, what remains in doubt is whether it is always rational to be moral. They typically assume that morality is concerned, entirely or primarily, with our relations to others, especially with obligations that appear to require some sacrifice or compromise with the pursuit of self-interest.

The history of the welfare state is not only or even primarily a story of men and measures but also one of concepts and social ideals. Over the last hundred and twenty years or so, the body of policies, rules, and practices which we collectively term the welfare state has become the most prominent feature of politics and state activity in every developed country. This reflects not only institutional and procedural pressures on the political process during this period, but also the gradual permeation (to use a term employed by one prominent advocate of the welfare state) of all parties and arguments by a particular conception of welfare which has determined and limited the range and terms of debate. Both theoretical debate and concrete measures reflect pervasive assumptions and generalized arguments about the nature and content of collective and individual welfare, their preconditions, and their consequences.

Does morality override self-interest? Or does self-interest override morality? These questions become important in situations where there is conflict between the overall verdicts of morality and self-interest, situations where morality on balance requires an action that is contrary to our self-interest, or where considerations of self-interest on balance call for an action that is forbidden by morality. In situations of this kind, we want to know what we ought simpliciter to do. If one of these standpoints over-rides the other, then there is a straightforward answer. We ought simpliciter to act on the verdict of the overriding standpoint.

For purposes of this essay, I assume that there are possible cases in which the overall verdicts of morality and self-interest conflict. I will call cases of this kind “conflict cases.” The verdict of morality in a conflict case would be a proposition as to what we ought morally to do, or as to what we have the most moral reason to do; the verdict of self-interest would be a proposition as to what we ought to do in our self-interest, or as to what action is best supported by reasons or considerations of self-interest. These propositions are action-guiding or normative in a familiar sense. The conflict between morality and self-interest in conflict cases is there-fore a normative conflict; it is a conflict between the overall verdicts of different normative standpoints. I take it that the question of whether morality overrides self-interest is the question of whether the verdicts of morality are normatively more important than the verdicts of self-interest. In due course, I will explain the idea of normative importance as well as the ideas of a normative proposition and of a reason.

In considering the development and course of the American welfare state, there are some places which are better starting points than others. One such place is the State Street corridor, the series of high-rise Chicago Housing Authority public-housing projects which loom over Lake Michigan. Most Chicagoans, like their counterparts in other cities, have become inured to conditions there: a murder rate far in excess of that of the city as a whole, a society of unemployed single mothers, deferred maintenance that makes stairwells, plazas, and elevators places of danger. Author Alex Kotlowitz decribes the situation of a mother of two boys in Chicago's Henry Horner Homes: “She lived in daily fear that something might happen to her young ones.… Already that year, 57 children had been killed in the city, five in the Horner area, including two, aged eight and six, who died from smoke inhalation when firefighters had to climb the 14 stories to their apartment. Both of the building's elevators were broken.”

We have taken the “why be moral?” question so seriously for so long. It suggests that we lack faith in the rationality of morality. The relative infrequency with which we ask “why be prudent?” suggests that we have no corresponding lack of faith in the rationality of prudence. Indeed, we have so much faith in the rationality of prudence that to question it by asking “why be prudent?” sounds like a joke. Nevertheless, our reasons and motives to be prudent are every bit as contingent as our reasons and motives to be moral–or so I argue in Sections II and III.

A second theme of this essay is that conflict between morality and self-interest is contingent as well. The moral perspective, as characterized in Section IV, does not require a universal regard for others, whereas the kind of self-interested perspective characterized in Section III does not require a wholesale disregard for others. Both perspectives make room for a deep although not universal other-regard–or so I argue in Section V.

The fiftieth anniversary of the death of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt arrived only months after the 1994 U.S. elections brought to power conservative Republican congressional majorities determined to reverse key legacies of Roosevelt's New Deal. At this juncture of special poignancy for many of those assembled at the “Little White House” in Warm Springs, Georgia on April 12, 1995, President Bill Clinton offered remarks on “Remembering Franklin D. Roosevelt.” “Like our greatest presidents,” Clinton eulogized, Roosevelt “showed us how to be a nation in time of great stress” and “taught us again and again that our government could be an instrument of democratic destiny.”

Whether morality has rational authority is an open question insofar as we can seriously entertain conceptions of morality and practical reason according to which it need not be contrary to reason to fail to conform to moral requirements. Doubts about the authority of morality are especially likely to arise for those who hold a broadly prudential view of rationality. It is common to think of morality as including various other-regarding duties of cooperation, forbearance, and aid. Most of us also regard moral obligations as authoritative practical considerations. But heeding these obligations appears sometimes to constrain the agent's pursuit of his own interests or aims. If we think of rationality in prudential terms–as what would promote the agent's own interests–we may wonder whether moral conduct is always rationally justifiable. Indeed, we do not need to think of rationality in exclusively prudential terms to raise this worry. The worry can arise even if there are impartial reasons–that is, nonderivative reasons to promote the welfare of others.

While in America most people think of “welfare” as means-tested programs such as Aid to Families with Dependent Children, in reality in the United States and other affluent democracies the heart of the welfare state is social insurance programs, such as health insurance, old-age or retirement pensions, and unemployment insurance. They are insurance programs in the sense that they protect against common risks of a loss of income if and/or when certain events come to pass (illness, old-age or retirement, unemployment); they are “social” because unlike market insurance they are not run on a sound actuarial basis, the premiums are not voluntarily incurred but compulsory, and there is very limited choice or flexibility concerning the type of policy one can purchase. Why have social insurance rather than market insurance? In this essay, I take up this question with regard to old-age or retirement pensions, which at present absorb around 9 percent of the gross domestic product (GDP) and 25 percent of government spending of the affluent industrial countries comprising the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). My aim is to show that old-age or retirement social insurance (henceforth “SI”) is worse in virtually every relevant normative respect than its alternative, some form of market or private pensions. By relevant normative respect, I mean those values or principles which are used by contemporary political philosophers in their discussions and justifications of welfare-state policies, and which are applicable to assessments of different systems of old-age or retirement pensions. (Although they are applicable, almost no contemporary political philosophers have in fact applied them—an amazing state of affairs which I hope to remedy here.)

In what follows I consider whether the idea of a person's interest or good might be better understood through that of care or concern for that person for her sake, rather than conversely, as is ordinarily assumed. Contrary to (informed) desire-satisfaction theories of interest, such an account can explain why not everything a person rationally desires is part of her good, since what a person sensibly wants is not necessarily what we (and she) would sensibly want, insofar as we care about her.

First, however, a tale:

There was no other explanation which seemed reasonable. … [W]as it not reasonable to assume that he meant never to claim his birth-right? If this were so, what right had he, William Cecil Clayton, to thwart the wishes, to balk the self-sacrifice of this strange man? If Tarzan of the Apes could do this thing to save Jane Porter from unhappiness, why should he, to whose care she was intrusting her whole future, do aught to jeopardize her interests?

The possible privatization of Social Security has long been a matter of theoretical interest to those who ideologically favor free markets and maximum personal autonomy. But in the spirit of an age when the Berlin Wall fell and the totalitarian Soviet empire collapsed through a peaceful revolution from within, the politics of Social Security has been remade in recent years in a similarly dramatic fashion.

To commence any answer to the question “Can democracy promote the general welfare?” requires attention to the meaning of “general welfare.” If this term is drained of all significance by being defined as “whatever the political decision process determines it to be,” then there is no content to the question. The meaning of the term can be restored only by classifying possible outcomes of democratic political processes into two sets – those that are general in application over all citizens and those that are discriminatory.

There is, in Sarajevo, a man who comes out into the streets each day and plays his cello on the sidewalk. He does this at the same time each day, no matter how much shooting or shelling is going on, no matter how great the danger to himself. He describes himself as having decided to take a stand for beauty in the face of horror. Can the rational choice paradigm, as currently practiced in the various disciplines of economics, philosophy, political science, and law, offer an account of this man's decision and his behavior?

This admirable man seems to be a rebuke to the philosophies of calculated self-interest. Can we offer some account of his behavior, without descending into the tautological claim that he did what he did because he wanted to? Can we offer some insight into his wants that will make him intelligible? And not only intelligible, but can we account for him in a way that highlights his admirability, rather than suggesting that he is in some way an aberration, or perhaps even a fool?

There is a deep disorder within the human condition. All of the essays in the present volume point to this fact in one way or another. Some characterize the disorder as a conflict between virtue and self-interest. Others point to the dichotomy between the individual and other persons as being the source of the tension between morality and self-interest. Some of the essays attempt to resolve the tension by collapsing the two categories into each other.

In his 1993 health-care reform proposal, Bill Clinton offered health care as a civil right. If his proposal had been accepted, all Americans would have been guaranteed a basic package of health care. At the same time, they would have been forbidden to provide or purchase better basic health care, as a cost of participating in a national system to which they were compelled to contribute. A welfare entitlement would have been created and an egalitarian ethos enforced. This essay will address why such egalitarian proposals are morally unjustifiable, both in terms of the establishment of a uniform health-care welfare right, and in terms of the egalitarian constraints these proposals impose against the use of private resources in the purchase of better-quality basic health care, not to mention luxury care.

The topic of self-interest raises large and intractable philosophical questions–most obviously, the question “In what does self-interest consist?” The concept, as opposed to the content of self-interest, however, seems clear enough. Self-interest is interest in one's own good. To act self-interestedly is to act on the motive of advancing one's own good. Whether what one does actually is in one's self-interest depends on whether it actually does advance, or at least, minimize the decline of, one's own good. Though it may be difficult to tell whether a person is motivated by self-interest in a particular instance, and difficult also to determine whether a given act or decision really is in one's self-interest, the meaning of the claims in question seems unproblematic.

My main concern in this essay is to make a point about the content of self-interest. Specifically I shall put forward the view that meaningfulness, in a sense I shall elaborate, is an important element of a good life. It follows, then, that it is part of an enlightened self-interest that one wants to secure meaning in one's life, or, at any rate, to allow and promote meaningful activity within it. Accepting this substantial conception of self-interest, however, carries with it a curious consequence: the concept of self-interest which formerly seemed so clear begins to grow fuzzy. Fortunately, it comes to seem less important as well.

In Reasons and Persons, Derek Parfit distinguishes three sorts of theories about self-interest–hedonistic theories, preference theories, and what he calls “objective-list theories." Hedonistic theories hold that one's good is a matter of the felt quality of one's experiences.

The Aristotelian view that the moral virtues–the virtues of character informed by practical wisdom–are essential to an individual's happiness, and are thus in an individual's self-interest, has been little discussed outside of purely scholarly contexts. With a few exceptions, contemporary philosophers have tended to be suspicious of Aristotle's claims about human nature and the nature of rationality and happiness (eudaimonia). But recent scholarship has offered an interpretation of the basic elements of Aristotle's views of human nature and happiness, and of reason and virtue, that brings them more into line with common-sense thinking and with contemporary philosophical and empirical psychology. This makes it fruitful to reexamine the question of the role of virtue in self-interest.

T. H. Marshall, a British sociologist, gave a series of lectures in 1949 under the title “Citizenship and Social Class.” To many American intellectuals, his analysis still offers a persuasive account of the origins of the welfare state in the West. But Marshall spoke in the early postwar era, when the case for expanded social benefits seemed unassailable. Today's politics are more conservative. In every Western country the welfare state is under review. Yet Marshall's conception can still help define the issues in social policy and the way forward.