Although the belief that killing is normally wrong is as universal and uncontroversial a moral belief as we are likely to find, no one, to my knowledge, has ever offered an account of why killing is wrong that even begins to do justice to the full range of common sense beliefs about the morality of killing. Yet such an account would be of considerable practical significance, since understanding why some killings are wrong should help us to determine the conditions in which killing is not wrong. For, in those cases in which the reasons why killing is wrong do not apply, killing may be permissible or, if there are positive reasons that favour it, even morally required.

In Chapter 17 of his magnificent Reasons and Persons, Derek Parfit asks what he describes as an ‘awesome question’: ‘How many people should there ever be?’ For a utilitarian like me, the answer seems simple: there should be however many people it takes to make the world best. Unfortunately, if I answer Parfit's awesome question in this way, I may sink myself in a quagmire of axiological confusion. In this paper, I first describe certain aspects of the quagmire. Then I introduce and explain some of the elements of a novel axiological view – ‘justicism’. Justicism is derived from some ideas originally suggested by Franz Brentano. It was developed in an effort to solve certain other problems confronting utilitarianism – problems explicitly about justice. I think, however, that as a sort of happy by-product, justicism also generates a plausible answer to Parfit's awesome question. This may come as a bit of surprise, since justicism is a form of totalism, and it is widely thought that no totalistic theory can provide a satisfactory answer to Parfit's question. After presenting and explaining my proposed solution, I address some objections.

One of the standard objections to traditional act utilitarianism is that it is insensitive to issues of justice and desert. Traditional act utilitarianism holds, for example, that it is morally obligatory to torture or kill an innocent person, when doing so increases the happiness of others more than it decreases the happiness of the innocent person. Utilitarianism is, of course, sensitive to what people believe about justice (for example, people might riot, if they believe a gross injustice has been done), but it is not sensitive to justice itself.

In recent years the distinction between agent-relative and agent-neutral reasons has been taken by many to play a key role in distinguishing deontology from consequentialism. It is central to all universalist consequentialist theories that value is determined impersonally; the real value of any state of affairs does not depend on the point of view of the agent. No reference, therefore, to the agent or to his or her position in the world need enter into a consequentialist understanding of what makes an action right or wrong or morally permissible. Consequentialism thus provides an agent-neutral account of both the right and the good.

It seems common at the moment to make agent-neutrality a necessary condition of ‘consequentialism” and to hold that deontological ethics are agent-relative. This note argues that both these tendencies regrettably obscure useful terms and distinctions. It concludes by considering what it would be best, now, to mean by ‘utilitarianism” and making a proposal.

There are many disagreements about what people have moral obligations to do, but almost everyone believes that some people have some moral obligations. Moreover, there are some moral obligations in which almost everyone believes. For example, if I promise to give a talk at this conference, I have a moral obligation to do so. Of course, my obligation might be overridden. Moreover, even if my obligation were overridden, I would still have a moral obligation to give a talk at this conference.

Sinnott-Armstrong's paper principally defends our inability to justify, philosophically, normal moral claims. In particular, we cannot justify them against other claims, especially the claim of moral nihilism. Moral nihilism is the doctrine that there are no moral obligations (for anybody to do anything). This thesis ‘does not lie in meta-ethics. It is a universally quantified substantive moral claim’ (p. 219). Sinnott-Annstrong makes it clear that he does not actually believe this doctrine (p. 217), but he believes that it is coherent, and that a variety of strategies philosophers might attempt all fail to disprove it. And because of this, ordinary claims to obligation are philosophically unjustified.

In the preface to the second edition of his deservedly popular Practical Ethics, Peter Singer notes that one of the ‘two significant changes” of his ‘underlying ethical views” consists in dropping the tentative suggestion that ‘one might try to combine both the “total” and the “prior existence” versions of utilitarianism, applying the former to sentient beings who are not self-conscious and the latter to those who are” (pp. x–xi). On the total view our aim is ‘to increase the total amount of pleasure (and reduce the total amount of pain)” regardless of ‘whether this is done by increasing the pleasure of existing beings, or increasing the number of beings who exist”, whereas on the prior existence view we ‘count only beings who already exist, prior to the decision we are taking, or at least will exist independently of that decision” (p. 103). Instead he proposes ‘that preference utilitarianism draws a sufficiently sharp distinction between these two categories of being to enable us to apply one version of utilitarianism to all sentient beings” (p. xi).

Impartialism in ethics has been said to be the common ground shared by both Kantian and utilitarian approaches to ethics. Lawrence Blum describes this common ground as follows:

Both views identify morality with a perspective of impartiality, impersonality, objectivity and universality. Both views imply the ‘ubiquity of impartiality” – that our commitments and projects derive their legitimacy only by reference to this impartial perspective.

You face two buttons. Pushing one will destroy Greensboro. Pushing the other will save it. (Sorry, doing nothing also destroys Greenboro.) There is no way for you to know which button saves and which destroys. What ought you to do? Answer: You ought to make the correct guess and push the button that saves Greensboro. Second question: Do you have an obligation to push the correct button?

Vagueness in the phrase ‘can know’ aside, the principle of (Access) An act is obligatory only if its agent can know that it is obligatory is an important principle, worthy of serious scrutiny. Its truth or falsity bears on the question of whether moral rightness, obligatoriness, etc., are a matter of factors ‘internal’ to an agent (such as motives and beliefs), or whether ‘external’ factors (such as consequences) are relevant to determining the moral normative status of acts. Moreover, Access enjoys considerable intuitive support. If I destroy Greensboro in Professor Sorensen's example by pushing the wrong button, I seem to have a good excuse to give to anyone who would accuse me of wrongdoing: ‘I had no way of knowing that this action would be wrong!’ But if I have a good excuse, then pushing the button does not seem wrong; and if that action is not wrong, then I had no obligation to refrain from pushing that button.

In the paper I offer a brief sketch of one of the sources of utilitarianism.

Our biological ancestry is a matter of fact that is not altered by the way we describe ourselves. With philosophical theories it is otherwise. Utilitarianism can be described in ways that make it look as if it is as old as moral philosophy – as J. S. Mill thought it was. For my historical purposes, it is more useful to have an account that brings out what is specific about Benthamism and its descendants. Let us try to make do with the following. First, utilitarianism asserts that the fundamental requirement of morality is that we are to maximize good, for everyone and not just for the agent. This basic principle presupposes that it makes sense to think of aggregating goods to make a total, and of comparing amounts of good thus aggregated. Second, the good to be brought about is located in feelings of pleasure, and the evil to be avoided in feelings of pain. These feelings have inherent value or disvalue regardless of how they are caused to exist and regardless of their own consequences. Third, all moral principles can be derived from the requirement that good be maximized. The principles involved in evaluating agents as well as in giving moral direction to action are nothing but applications of the basic principle.

Virtue ethics has generated a great deal of excitement among ethicists largely because it is seen as an alternative to the traditional theories – utilitarianism and Kantian ethics – which have come under considerable scrutiny and criticism in the past 30 years. Rather than give up the enterprise of doing moral theory altogether, as some have suggested, others have opted to develop an alternative that would hopefully avoid the shortcomings of both utilitarianism and Kantian ethics. Several writers, such as Jorge Garcia and Michael Slote, have tried to develop this alternative of virtue ethics, or at least sketch out ways such a theory could be developed.

Hume's theory of government and allegiance falls into two parts. In its better known segment Hume explains the conjectural origin of government in general as a convention necessary to enforce the rules of justice and provide other public goods, and he grounds the general duty of allegiance on the utility of government in making stable social life possible. To his credit, however, Hume goes on to give separate treatment to the topic of what he terms the ‘objects of allegiance”, or rules for assessing the legitimacy of particular political regimes or rulers. Given the general desirability of government and of obedience to it, we might nevertheless ask what entitles the particular government in existence to rule over us; more pressingly, there might be competing claimants to this position. What standards should guide our decision about where our allegiance is due when there is more than one alternative?

Moral evaluation is concerned with the attribution (to its various objects – actions, character, attitudes, states of affairs, institutions) of values whose distinction into two broad groups has become familiar. On the one hand, there are the most general moral values of lightness, wrongness, goodness, badness, and what ought to be or to be done. On the other, there is a great diversity of more specific moral values which these objects can have: of being a theft, for instance, or a thief; of honesty, reliability or callousness. Within the recent body of work attempting to restore to the virtues a central place in ethical thinking, two claims stand out. One is that, of these two kinds of values, the specific ones are explanatorily prior to the general – that if an action is wrong, it is because it is wrong in one of those specific respects. A second claim, though, is now standardly made definitive of ‘Virtue ethics’: that amongst the specific values, the value of character is explanatorily prior to that of action – that if an action is callous, say, it is because it expresses callousness of character – and that in this sense, the moral value of action derives from that of character. This second claim has been widely attacked; in what follows, I present a reason for believing that, at least in the case of callousness, it is right.

Was Green a utilitarian? At least two studies suggest that he was, at least in some sense. One claim is inspired by Macpherson's association of nineteenth-century liberalism with utilitarianism. Drawing on this argument, Greengarten and Hansen claim that Green's departure from utilitarianism is only partial. His commitment to capitalism indicates a subscription to utilitarianism since the latter is the justificatory force of capitalist institutions.

Near the beginning of the last chapter of Life's Dominion, Ronald Dworkin expounds the following problem. Margo has Alzheimer's disease. She suffers from ‘serious and permanent dementia’ (p. 220). It transpires that some years ago, at a time when she was mentally fully competent, Margo executed an advance directive. In this formal document she expressed her wishes concerning what should happen to her if she were to develop Alzheimer's. Should those wishes now be acceded to? For instance, suppose that in her document Margo directed that she should not receive treatment for any life-threatening illness she might contract. Should a doctor therefore now refrain from such treatment? What if, more than this, Margo indicated in her will that after the definitive onset of Alzheimer's ‘she should be killed as soon and as painlessly as possible’ (p. 226)? Could it possibly be right to grant that request?