A Grammar of Goodness: A Conversation with Philippa Foot

Kasra Hatampouri: Philippa Foot (1920–2010) is one of the prominent contemporary moral philosophers, counted among the defenders of virtue ethics. She is the author of numerous works in this field, including Virtues and Vices, Moral Dilemmas, and Natural Goodness, the last of which is the focus of the present conversation. The gist of her view, in this ethical theory, can be stated as follows: moral good and evil fall under the category of natural good and evil and are not something separate requiring a separate foundation or an independent language. When we look at non-human living beings, that is, at plants and animals, we see that certain of their characteristic features are necessary, and if a plant or animal lacks them, it is considered defective and flawed. For example, a tall tree like the plane tree needs deep roots. Likewise, it is necessary that certain specific, attractive colors adorn the tail of the male peacock; otherwise, it cannot find a mate. If the plane tree lacks deep roots or the peacock lacks a colorful tail, it is defective, and this lack is considered bad and an evil for it. The same holds true for human beings, except that humans, due to their greater talents, abilities, and capacities (such as language, imagination, will), have more complex necessary features, and if an individual lacks them, they are considered defective. In Foot’s view, the moral virtues align with these specifically human features—necessary characteristics whose presence is virtue and whose absence is vice. Thus, moral virtues and vices are also natural matters, and one should not seek another basis or foundation for them.

In this conversation, Foot, while recounting her interesting and engaging life story regarding her interest in philosophy and moral philosophy and her extensive discussions with Elizabeth Anscombe, explains the idea of natural goodness in ethics in simple and captivating language and sets forth the grammar of goodness.

H.R.P.^1[1]: At the beginning of Natural Goodness^2[2], you recall an anecdote about Wittgenstein’s intervention in the middle of a conference. One of the speakers suddenly finds that the point he had intended to speak about is interesting, but really nonsense. The speaker tries, on the spot, to construct something more reasonable and to say it, and Wittgenstein says: “No, say what you want to say, be what you are! We’ll take the discussion further later.” Why do you think this story holds a useful lesson for philosophers?

Foot: I began Natural Goodness with this remark because I thought it was excellent advice. Whenever I think I should abandon a strange and peculiar idea, I try to do the opposite and tell myself: now, there’s no need to discard it quickly. So, I advise everyone to hold on to their truly ridiculous but tempting ideas; because someone might find treasure in these ruins.

H.R.P.: What do you mean by “finding treasure”?

Foot: I think an example will help to understand the point, though one must always be careful with examples. When someone is talking with a psychotherapist, if they suddenly realize they want to say something scandalous, the only thing they can do at that moment is to say something respectable instead. The matter is somewhat similar with our philosophical thoughts. Our philosophical attachments lie precisely where the problem lies, and for that reason, we must focus on the raw and strange thoughts we actually have. At the beginning of Natural Goodness, I give the example of the puzzling phrase “if I were you.” I remember when I was a child, someone said to me, “If I were you, I would take my medicine!” and I thought, “No, you wouldn’t, because I don’t want to take it!” We later understood that my astonishment at this statement was due to the philosophical preoccupations of my mind.

Perhaps it is because of this strange nature of philosophical questions that explaining philosophy to non-philosophers is difficult. You know, Wittgenstein says that one lesson in philosophy is as useful as one lesson in playing the piano, and I think he is right.

HRP: Why did you become interested in philosophy, and how did you come to study it?

Foot: I had no formal education as a child. I lived in an environment full of hunting, shooting, and fishing, and girls simply did not go to university. But one of the ladies who was my governess, and who was herself really well-educated, said to me, “You know! You could go to university.” So I decided to pursue it. I really knew nothing about it, which was not very strange; because most of our governesses themselves did not have much higher education, and they were supposed to be able to teach us everything! Anyway, I took several correspondence courses, and then, to my great surprise, I was accepted at Somerville College [Oxford]. I applied to Somerville because I had heard it was an intellectual university, but at the same time, not socially pretentious, and I was trying to steer clear of those snobbish social circles. In this course of study, I decided to take Politics, Philosophy, and Economics; because I wanted to do something theoretical. Due to my lack of education and aptitude, I could not study mathematics. So I thought to myself that economics and philosophy are theoretical subjects I could pursue.

HRP: What led you to focus on moral philosophy?

Foot: I was always interested in philosophy, but the crucial event was that when I returned to Oxford in 1945, it was the period when news about the prison camps was being released. This news was so shocking that probably no one today could believe it. We [also] thought it impossible for such a thing to happen. It was this event, specifically, that caused me to become interested in moral philosophy. In any case, I was always more interested in the philosophy of mind, and I still am. But, after hearing the news of the prison camps, I said to myself, “One cannot say, like Stevenson, Ayer, and Hare, that morality is ultimately just the expression of an attitude^3[3],” and I became engaged with this issue.

HRP: In this idea that morality is merely the expression of an attitude, what seemed so wrong to you that it was incompatible with the event of the Holocaust?

Foot: The aforementioned theorists tried to interpret the conditions for using expressions like “morally, it is wrong to kill an innocent person” within the framework of the speaker’s feelings or inclinations, or to say that they are of the type of an individual’s commitments to act in a particular way. The meaning of this is that, according to such theories, there is a gap between the facts and grounds of moral judgments and the judgments themselves. Because regardless of any reasoning that might be offered for moral judgments, an individual can, without any problem, reject it, simply because they do not have a feeling or inclination corresponding to that moral judgment. This is what I thought was wrong. Because if we live by this line of conduct, it is fundamentally impossible to imagine telling a Nazi, “We are right and you are wrong,” and for this statement to have any validity. By this account, we reach a complete impasse in the face of Nazis who feel that what they did was justified. In my view, “one cannot consider differences in moral attitudes to be personal [and subjective] in the same sense that we consider disagreements in aesthetic instances or likes and dislikes to be personal^4[4].” The severance of descriptions from attitudes, or facts from values, which characterizes modern moral philosophy, must be a bad theory.

HRP: Before we address your response regarding subjectivism^5[5], I want to talk a bit more about your early influences in moral philosophy. When one reads your work, one clearly sees the influence of Anscombe^6[6] and Wittgenstein. In your view, what impact did they have on your thinking?

Foot: Anscombe influenced me the most. My extraordinary teacher, Donald MacKinnon^7[7], was, in fact, more of a theologian than a philosopher. He taught me Hegelian philosophy and also Kant's philosophy, which was excellent. But MacKinnon did not have much faith in modern, analytical philosophy. Therefore, I needed someone like Anscombe to see the benefits of this philosophy. Anscombe had a rigorous character and was not the type of personality to be a university teacher helping all students with their exams; so she did not fit in well with the conditions of Oxford University. But, fortunately, the authorities at Somerville had recognized her merits. In their view, she was an astonishing figure, and they kept allocating scholarships for her and did not want to lose her. This was an excellent situation for me; because we had gotten into the habit of talking together every day. At the university, after lunch, we would sit and have philosophical discussions. She would raise several topics, and although she rarely agreed with what I said, she always showed a willingness to consider my criticisms and would ponder my arguments. I remember at one fateful moment, I said about a few sentences that they normally have a meaning composed of descriptive and evaluative^8[8] elements. Anscombe said: "Of what? What?." I said to myself, "Oh my, so someone might not accept this distinction! Someone might say: What?."

So, you see that my position was very privileged; because Anscombe was one of the best philosophers of our time. Moreover, she would naturally create in me the problems that Wittgenstein had created in her. Naturally, she also had debates with Wittgenstein on some topics, just like the ones I had with Anscombe. She did not talk about Wittgenstein, but she taught me things about Wittgenstein's method of thinking. Of course, I am sure Anscombe did not imagine she was teaching me anything, but that is what happened. She often came to my seminars, and I always attended her seminars, while typically disagreeing with almost everything she said. It is natural that I was defeated in most discussions, but I would be there again the next week, criticizing. Our story was like the comedies from childhood where a steamroller would run over a character and flatten him, but in the next scene, he would be there safe and sound. I was like one of those characters.

I think this process continued for five years. Then, Norman Malcolm^9[9] came there, and his lecture interested me in Wittgenstein's book Philosophical Investigations. So, I started studying it, I mean I really studied it, and afterwards I asked Anscombe [who was the book's translator into English]: "Why didn't you tell me anything?" She said: "Because it is such a precious thing that there be someone who opposes your view." In her view, it was not important that Wittgenstein's works be accepted, but she preferred to act in a way that everything would be against it. She did not like me to agree too easily with everything she said. Yes, on a personal level we were friends. As you know, she was more Catholic than the Pope, while I was a registered atheist; therefore, we had no agreement in terms of ideological foundations. But we had these excellent debates, and her children also came to see me a lot.

HRP: Your approach in moral philosophy emphasizes the virtues. What has been and is the appeal of this method in moral philosophy for you?

Foot: I suppose the beginning of this process was reading Aquinas. I was on vacation when Anscombe said to me, “I think you should read Aquinas.” I became interested in the second part of Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae, which deals with the particular virtues and vices. There I noticed that there are always good arguments for claiming that something is a virtue or a vice. I remember reading a passage where Aquinas says: talkativeness is a vice; I said to myself, “What a wonderful idea!” When you seriously pose a question about a particular virtue, you realize that the discussion is not merely personal and you cannot say whatever you like. If talkativeness really is a vice, there must be a reason behind it. I asked one of my students this very question: “Why on earth should talkativeness be considered a vice?” He said, “Well, when someone is always talking, they have no time left to think.” This was not Aquinas’s reason, but I was pleased with my student’s answer and it seemed right to me. In one of my lectures, I repeated my student’s answer, and after the session ended, several young men stopped me in the corridor and said: (you realize, of course, this was a long time ago) “But perhaps [my friend or] my spouse doesn’t need to think,” and I said bluntly, “Everyone needs to think.”

This approach has been the basis of my work in writing all of my works, including Natural Goodness. One should not simply say that “there must be foundations for moral judgments” [as if that is self-evident]; because it is clear that regarding every individual virtue and vice, one can ask on what basis the judgment of virtue or vice has been made. For example, one can ask, “Does the virtue of chastity exist, and if so, what is its basis?” The entire subject of moral philosophy took shape in my mind in this way. Before that, I thought quite simply that “there must be objective foundations for moral judgments” [and in explaining my idea], I could say little more than that those foundations must be connected to human well-being or something similar. But attention to detail, which I learned from Aquinas, showed me that the virtue-vice perspective provides an excellent way in which the idea of the objectivity of moral judgments is strengthened. When someone merely examines a proposition like “This act is wrong,” they never arrive at specific arguments or judgments in the way they do when examining a proposition like “Talkativeness is a vice.”

Of course, even after this discovery, I still did not have a general concept of goodness suited to the capacities, states, and operations necessary for a particular form of life—a concept that, in Natural Goodness, plays an important role in what I say about the foundations of moral demands. For a long time, I could not find such a general basis for ethics and was too slow to write more than a few articles about my unfinished thoughts. So I was occupied with medical ethics, which had a great many proponents. I did not become fed up with the subject of medical ethics, but as soon as I realized how one could approach the fundamental questions I raise in Natural Goodness, I set the subject of medical ethics aside. That is, in the mid-1980s. After that, it also took a long time for the book finally to reach the publication stage. At the launch of Natural Goodness, the editor at Oxford University Press had taken the opening sentence of the book, which I quoted from Wittgenstein (that is, the sentence: It is difficult to philosophize as slowly and sluggishly as one should) and said, “Well, that is a problem Philippa seems to have solved.”

So this is the process of my intellectual development: from the thought that subjectivism [in ethics] must be mistaken, to the thought that when we look at individual virtues and vices, we can truly find an objective foundation for particular moral judgments and proceed on that basis.

HRP: Do you believe that this foundation for ethics does not exist in other fundamental concepts employed in contemporary moral philosophies, such as the idea of “a good state of affairs” or rights and obligations?

Foot: Exactly. You know, at the beginning, all I could do was set aside subjectivism and emphasize that there is a kind of objectivity in moral judgments, and that this also has to do with human well-being—without, of course, sinking into utilitarianism. But theoretically, I could not find the truth of concepts like “the best state of affairs” or “the good,” whereas I could understand the meaning of concepts like virtue and vice. In any case, I realized that if I wanted to give a real answer to people who hold a different moral theory, I would have to cobble together a completely different theory of moral judgments.

HRP: What was this different alternative?

Foot: It was in the 1980s that I found the way to a fresh start by thinking about plants and animals. The point is not that you conclude “such-and-such is important” from the proposition “such-and-such is important for animals.” Rather, I said, “Look! There is a special logical category here.” At UCLA I had an outstanding student named Michael Thompson^10[10], who is now in the philosophy department at the University of Pittsburgh. He was, to some extent, influenced by Elizabeth Anscombe, because he had very good taste in philosophy. Michael found this wonderful idea in Anscombe’s writing, where Elizabeth speaks about the proposition: “Human beings have thirty-two teeth.” [We know that] very few human beings have thirty-two teeth. So, what is the logical status of this proposition? This proposition does not say: “All human beings have thirty-two teeth.” It does not even say: “Most human beings have thirty-two teeth.” Nor does it simply mean that “Some human beings have thirty-two teeth” [rather, it is as if the implied meaning of the proposition is that “a complete and good human being ought to have thirty-two teeth, otherwise they are defective”]. Therefore, if you look at it quantitatively, you will see that this proposition does not simply fit into those logical categories we know. The logical status of this proposition is different from propositions like “Gardens have fences.” Michael Thompson realized there is a special logical form in speaking about living things^11[11]. Then, both of us examined this particular way in which we talk about living beings. This was the work done in my last book.

HRP: You have written that when we think about how we judge particular members of a [animal or plant] species—that is, judging them as defective or, conversely, judging them as “how they [completely] ought to be”—this specific way of speaking reveals itself in our judgments about non-human plants and animals. According to your view, in order to make such judgments about non-human plants and animals, we need two things: first, a set of propositions that describe the life cycle of plant and animal species. For instance, regarding plants and animals, we must focus on such examples as: growth, self-preservation, reproduction. Second, a set of propositions about how, in the species under discussion, these aforementioned things are achieved: how it obtains food; how it looks after itself; how it develops and how it ensures reproduction. Based on these two types of propositions, we can derive norms for the members and individuals of that species. These norms state that important roles must be performed in the specified ways. I want to raise some questions about certain elements of the grammar of this natural normativity^12[12]. I will start with the idea that certain capacities or characteristics are necessary for certain species, because of their way of life. What do you mean by necessity? Because, for example, in the current way of human life, teeth are not necessary, and if our number of teeth is not complete [and thirty-two], it does not even have a very noticeable effect. Yet, Anscombe’s initial example was precisely this.

Foot: Well, if you have fewer than thirty-two teeth, it is considered a defect; because normally, when a tooth fails or decays, a human being has lost it; therefore, this connects with [the concepts of] health, illness, and mishap, even if it is not always a problem and one can still chew their food with fewer teeth. I accept that the initial example of teeth is not a very good one, and I will give another example. Compare the color of a peacock's tail with the sparrow in my garden. The color on the male peacock's tail is something essential and is needed for mating. On the other hand, as far as I know, the brown color of the sparrow's small tail does not play such a role in the life of this bird. For this reason, if it lacks it, it is not considered a defect, although it is strange and rare.

HRP: Does the concept of necessity that you employ depend on the specific environmental conditions in which the species in question exists? Could it be said that the lack of teeth was considered a defect for humans in the past, but is no longer so because of the existence of dentures?

Foot: I think reaching some kind of threshold is important here. The boundary of difference cannot be specified so easily. What is considered a defect in the individuals of a kind does not change because of an accident. Yes, conditions are always changing. Now that foxes have become urban animals, they need different characteristics, and for example, speed is less important for them; because they can obtain their food without it.

But this does not mean that you can restrict [the basis and] the reference situation in the description of natural goodness as much as you like. For example, perhaps the characteristics that animals need in a zoo are, in fact, defects; because it might be better for a predatory animal living in a zoo to abandon its predatory nature. Therefore, it must be noted that [in analyzing the essential characteristics of animals or plants,] the conditions considered should not be overly exclusive [that is, for example, one should not consider the conditions of animals inside a zoo and pass judgment]. In addition to this, [it must be noted that] very few humans have dentures, and likewise, a small number of predatory animals reside in zoos, which are not their natural habitat.

HRP: Why should we only look at the way of life of species? Why not look at the group, pack, herd, society, family, or individuals? What is the primacy of the species in the interpretation of natural normativity?

Foot: In the example of the urban fox, perhaps someone might suggest other necessary things compared to the characteristics required for the fox's non-urban counterparts. But really, in judgments concerning the good, as long as a characteristic is recognized as a general category, it no longer matters at all precisely at what point the abandonment of this type of grammar begins.

HRP: Nevertheless, focusing on the species to derive natural norms seems strange, especially regarding humans. Because you derive natural norms from the fact that certain things are necessary for a way of life. But the term "way of life" in humans often does not refer to the human kind as a whole, but to a society or group that possesses a set of institutions, routines, or perspectives.

Foot: I say again, it seems there are no clear boundaries here, and this is not very important. Some characteristics in our form of life are universal to the entire human species [and all human beings need them]. For example, all human beings need courage to face dangers, difficulties, and losses. There are many things that all human beings need; although some relativity also emerges from within different forms of life in different times, places, societies, economies, and cultural conditions. I think one of the merits of my view is that it does not claim that all moral norms are the same for all human beings. But we must not forget the fact that there are a great many things that are, absolutely, basic human needs.

H.R.P.: You mentioned moral norms. How do these kinds of natural goods relate to moral goods?

Foot: Let us start again with animals and plants. We see that in their form of life, many characteristics are essential for them, for example, a certain kind of root for some trees or the ability to see at night for an owl. Now, human beings have a completely different range of activities and capacities that are part of their form of life. Corresponding to this range, we can consider a different set of defects, especially defects related to specific human faculties such as language, imagination, and the will. Then, we can say, "We must look more closely at these defects specific to human beings." For example, human beings can realize that certain things are bad for them. If animals, like many human beings, were fond of alcohol and had enough alcohol available to them, they would probably drink themselves to death; but on the other hand, a human being can understand the harmful effects of alcohol and restrain their desire for it. Therefore, human beings need the virtue of temperance^13[13] and can possess it, but an animal cannot. Now, in this transition [from animal excellences to specifically human virtues], have I, grammatically speaking, entered a completely different grammar? Why do they draw such a distinction between the temperance needed by a human and the speed needed by a deer?

H.R.P.: So, do you believe that moral good and evil, or virtues and vices, fall under the general category of natural goodness and defect attributions?

Foot: Precisely. The transition from plants to animals is no different from the transition from animals to human beings. Human beings have different possibilities, different ways of managing, different needs, and [regarding morality], there is no reason to say: "Ah, moral goodness! Here there must be something about which we judge in a completely different way." Certainly, it is an important point that the subset of natural goods attributed to humans that we call "moral" is related to the goodness of the will and practical rationality. Virtues are rational dispositions^14[14] according to which certain things are considered as reasons for doing things. In the same way [that I consider virtue as a good of the will], I call vice a defect of the will. But note that I am not so enamored with the word "moral" as to consider this subset entirely distinct; because this term carries a certain association for others, based on belonging to which they separate things that I am interested in bringing together. For example, the defect of "not taking care of oneself," which is not usually considered a moral defect, seems to me to be a defect of the will in the same way [as other moral defects].

H.R.P.: Through this way of thinking, how can we find out what demands morality and justice make of us? The virtue of justice requires us to respect the rights of others. But the main dispute is what these rights are.

Foot: I must confess that I have not thought sufficiently about political philosophy. But I imagine one would have to proceed along the path that Elizabeth Anscombe took regarding promises.^15[15] She emphasizes that the practice of promise-keeping is very important for human beings, because it gives them the ability to bind one another's wills to something. It seems to me there is no problem in arguing the same way about rights. Why could we not make such an argument for one of the rights behind which there is also a powerful claim (stronger than the claim "you must help me")? That is, to refer to a good upon which it is based. What I mean is that society is founded on certain strict and firm demands [that must always be observed], such as: no one should kill another or take their things. [From these very necessary demands, one can also deduce moral demands or, for example, identify fundamental and absolute rights.] In contrast, no one can say, "You have no right to make me angry," and take this demand very seriously [as if it must always and everywhere be observed]. In human life, not being angered is really not that important.

H.R.P.: So, to determine human rights, do you appeal to a kind of necessity that exists for both individuals and society?

Foot: Exactly. I have no doubt that this is the basis of moral demands.

H.R.P.: Now, these necessities have changed throughout human history and are currently changing drastically, even more than before, because human ability is constantly increasing, not only in affecting the environment but even in the genetic modification of human beings themselves. What meaning and significance does this have for the category of natural goodness?

Foot: I think I am very tolerant and permissive about this. If human beings transform their environment and those things that were once considered defects become useful, other standards may be applied. Undoubtedly, a change in what is now considered a virtue is only natural when people's way of life changes. In this particular instance [and under these conditions], relativism is a good thing. But I emphasize that the overall view is fundamentally non-relative, because there are many things that human beings generally and universally need, such as courage, self-control, and wisdom.

Yes, there are many technical differences between the tribal cultures of the world and the modern culture of "developed" nations; but nevertheless, there are still many commonalities among human beings across different cultures. For this reason, the idea that there is a universal demand for [determining] certain character traits and specific rules of conduct is a serious one.

H.R.P.: I would like to move on to the subject of practical rationality.^16[16]...

Foot: Yes, very good! Do you know why I had to address the subject of rationality in Natural Goodness? Because it was part of my critique against the proponents of subjectivism, who believed that moral propositions are like expressing personal states. In contrast, in my view, these propositions are about the natural goods of the human will. But I was subject to a general criticism that I could not provide an adequate account of why and for what reason individuals should follow morality. Because the proponents of subjectivism believed that simply having a particular feeling or desire gives you a reason to act. I myself once held such a view about [moral] arguments, and in a notorious and famous article titled "Morality as a System of Hypothetical Imperatives?",^17[17] I rashly said that we only have desire-dependent reasons.^18[18] Therefore, I had to explain how it is possible for an individual, regardless of their goal or desire, to have a reason to do good things and avoid evil things.

So I needed a better account of the arguments. Around this time, fortune smiled on me, and I began working with my friend, the late Warren Quinn.^19[19] He had prepared something that I thought was an absolutely brilliant proposal, though probably at that time neither he nor anyone else was aware of its power. His great step was to ask the question: “If it is rational to do hateful things, then what importance does practical rationality have?” This was an extraordinarily original thought. For in modern moral philosophy, the presupposition was that one must first develop a theory of practical rationality (for instance, within the framework of maximizing the satisfaction of desires) and then somehow show that even the greatest sacrifices could be rational. But no one could, not even the cleverest, pull this off. However, Quinn’s observation showed that one should not look at the problem this way at all. We should not suppose that morality must pass the test of rationality; rather, rationality must successfully pass the test of morality.

HRP: It seems the answer to Quinn’s question is that a narrower concept of rationality is tied to the consistent pursuit of interests [and reason endorses the pursuit of desires. Or, in other words], it can easily be shown that the things a person is interested in are important to that very person; because it involves the pursuit of goals or interests that he has.

Foot: Why do you suppose that to justify the claim that it is rational for a person to do something, we must necessarily refer to that person’s own interests or desires? If you look carefully at the theory of rationality, in the sense of maximizing the satisfaction of a person’s most important desires, you immediately find yourself caught in a host of problems. Should we only be concerned with present desires? What about things you do not want now, but know you will want twenty years from now? Is it not irrational to be indifferent to the future?

HRP: But still, all of this relates in some way to interests or plans that are important to the individual, whereas the pursuit of the good might not be his concern. In your older works, you give the example of the “indifferent amoralist.” A person who has nothing to do with morality, neither now nor later. What reason is there to call this person irrational?

Foot: Yes, you are right, and the word “irrational” is not a precise term to use to describe him. Nevertheless, he is defective; for he has not correctly recognized and acted upon what counts as a reason. But now, I am curious about your position. I want to know, what do you think about the young person who says, “I don’t care that after twenty years of smoking, I might get lung cancer”? Do you consider this statement contrary to practical rationality?

HRP: Well, it depends on what this person’s general attitude toward the future is, and whether his actions generally display this indifference to the future?

Foot: What if, for example, this young person cares about being well-dressed at forty, but his health at forty is not important to him, what would you say?

HRP: I understand that he has consistency^20[20] [in his views], but perhaps I would say he has not recognized what he ought to recognize.

Foot: Aha, and where did you get this “ought” from?

HRP: (Pauses briefly) Well, I think from the idea of normality^21[21]; that is, it is a normal thing to be concerned about...

Foot: Normality?

HRP: Perhaps you are right and normality is not the right concept here; because it is probably rare for someone to want to live solely for the sake of stylish dressing; but it is still a desire that one can rationally pursue...

Foot: So, I take it you do not accept that such an attitude and behavior is in fact unreasonable?

HRP: Yes.

Foot: The problem is this—and it is a really important problem in this discussion—that one cannot easily accept that a person's lack of concern for their future health (just as many people do not care about this when they start smoking) is not contrary to rationality. [That is, after all, one cannot deny that rationality opposes this approach;] because, that prudence^22[22] is a part of rationality is not something that can be simply denied. On the other hand, one cannot easily find a basis for the concept of practical rationality that considers prudence a part of rationality, but does not consider justice or charity a part of it. Someone who accepts your position would have to say such a thing. You must either say: "Complete disregard for future well-being is not contrary to reason," in which case, you can no longer say that this kind of imprudence^23[23] is contrary to rationality; or you must accept a concept of practical rationality that is based on things other than what matters to the individual [that is, say that regardless of the individual's own interests, there are things that are rational or irrational for them. Only on this second basis can you say that that person's smoking is an irrational act, even if they are pleased by smoking and indifferent to its consequences]. But regarding the young smoker, I think one wants to say outright that, by the standards of practical rationality, he is defective. Beyond that, he is foolish!

HRP: And "foolish" is a word that points to a defect...

Foot: Certainly. So, my challenge is this: you cannot easily find a basis for saying that imprudence is a vice and a defect, but failing to be benevolent is not a form of injustice [with this account, just as some characteristics are a defect or perfection for the outward life of animals and humans, some moral characteristics are also a defect or perfection, and there is no difference between these two types of characteristics in this respect. Both are natural good and evil, and their difference is only due to the difference in the type of capacities and needs]. I think there is something useful about this in the book Natural Goodness. Because if you examine defects in the way they are examined there, they fall into place together. These are different parts of what a human being needs.

HRP: Still, one can say there is a difference between someone who does not act on accepted practical reasons and someone who does not recognize what you consider a reason as a reason at all. In the first, we are concerned about a deficiency in the way he has chosen to pursue his goals; and in the second, about the goals themselves that he has chosen. What is the idea of practical rationality that unites these two different concepts?

Foot: If thinking is done within the framework of natural goodness, as I have explained, this unity is possible. In human life, we need both the efficient method of choosing means to ends and the recognition of appropriate reasoning. A defect in either of these is a sign of a defect in practical rationality.

HRP: In the article Virtues and Vices²⁴[24], you wrote: "The wise man knows the means to an end and knows the value of ends."^25[25] Are practical rationality and wisdom^26[26] the same thing?

Foot: Yes, they certainly are one thing. Consider someone who says: “The most important thing in life is to dress according to the latest fashion.” If you think about the way of life of someone who believes such a thing, that is, the kind of friends these people have and the famous stars that fashion-obsessed people try to imitate, well… this needs to be analyzed. I haven’t had the chance to examine this issue much, but I think the question that must be raised here is what is deep and what is superficial. I don’t want to claim that I have sufficiently examined the concept of the depth of happiness, but it seems to me that when someone on their deathbed says, “I wasted so much of my life on things that didn’t matter,” one can understand their words. I imagine the idea that there are sometimes flaws in recognizing the weight [and importance] of arguments is suitable for describing such a situation [that is, if a person’s arguments are flawed, they may choose superficial goals].

H.R.P.: What still makes me resist accepting this kind of practical rationality is that it seems very much like preaching. People are told: “Such and such a thing is very important, and if you don’t realize its importance, it shows you have a defect.”

Foot: Well, it is preaching! There are good sermons and bad sermons. In my view, a preacher who is worth their salt has the right to tell the fashionable crowd that their lives are very superficial (though it is better not to say it insultingly, or perhaps it is better not to say anything at all!) But perhaps they think that those people are grown-up enough to know their own good and bad. They are adults, not adolescents.

H.R.P.: But, before you preach, you must have an idea about the good life for humans. Aquinas and Aristotle had their own complete and comprehensive account^27[27] of what a complete and satisfying life is, and therefore they could derive from this account an argument to the effect that humans should live in a particular way and cultivate the virtues. In the interpretation of Aristotle and Aquinas, the virtues lead to the well-being of the individual, even if they are not aware of this. But, usually, we do not agree with their view regarding the correct goal of life. Do you have a similar interpretation of how one should live?

Foot: Understanding the idea of the “good” for humans is a difficult task. However, I think we can find clues to solve the problem by looking at the subject of lack in humans. I imagine a serious problem with my theory lies in the idea that happiness^28[28] is the human good, but perhaps this happiness can be obtained by seeking evil. Now, happiness is a protean [and colorful] concept.^29[29] But what I want to say is that, after all, we have a concept of happiness (from among the various concepts possible regarding happiness) at our disposal; namely, this concept: contentment with good things.^30[30] Good things are also defined as follows: the objects of a good (and innocent) will. Therefore, when it is said that “happiness is the human good,” we understand this sentence in the way mentioned [that is, contentment with the objects of a good will is the human good]. I imagine we can approach an understanding of that concept of happiness indirectly, through the idea of the ways in which one can benefit someone. Consider Frederick and Rosemary West, who were serial killers and also abused children. Suppose someone had made it possible for them to enjoy their horrific deeds for a longer time; what should we say about this person? Should we say that this person had benefited those two? Certainly not.

H.R.P.: How do you use the concept of benefiting to better understand the idea of happiness?

Foot: Benefiting an individual means doing something that is for their good. If I am correct, the concept of benefiting another points toward a way of thinking about the “human good” in which the pursuit of evil things has no place. I demonstrated this by taking a stance on the example of prolonging pleasure for Mr. and Mrs. West. Now, therefore, the concept of happiness, as seen in the phrase “happiness is the human good,” must also preclude the pursuit of evil things. Nevertheless, examining the concept of benefiting another reveals an aperture through which we can think about a happiness that also encompasses the good (thinking about happiness as the human good).

HRP: On the last page of Natural Goodness, you allude to the role your arguments play in moral philosophy. In terms with a Wittgensteinian resonance, you ultimately say that your philosophy “leaves everything as it was.” But Wittgenstein’s point is that philosophical analyses have nothing to do with our everyday activities, not that our philosophizing can continue as before. So, your answer to the question, “What state does your approach leave moral philosophy in?” seems somewhat disingenuous.

Foot: When I said I did not expect my approach to cause disruption [in the course of mainstream moral philosophy], I was speaking only about a part of moral philosophy, such as medical ethics. Perhaps somewhat boldly, but I certainly hope that maybe (and only maybe) my approach could influence the current course of moral philosophy. Because my approach differs from that of most contemporary moral philosophers. I do not begin with moral reasoning that directly asks: “What is morality?” or “What is moral goodness?”; rather, drawing on the works of Elizabeth Anscombe and Michael Thompson, I have established a general “grammatical” perspective for evaluating living beings and their part and role within the framework of what I call “natural goodness and defect,” and I believe that moral judgment is just one instance of this type of evaluation. At least with regard to contemporary moral philosophy, I imagine my point is new, and I hope that such thinking about moral badness and goodness might enable potential changes in moral philosophy.

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[1]. (The Harvard Review of Philosophy (HRP)) The Harvard Review of Philosophy is an annual journal published at Harvard University since 1991. Over the years, the journal has featured conversations with renowned figures such as John Rawls, Umberto Eco, Hilary Putnam, Willard Quine, and Richard Rorty. The present conversation was conducted in 2002 by Alex Voorhoeve, currently a professor at the LSE in London and Erasmus University Rotterdam in the Netherlands.

[2]. Natural Goodness

[3]. expression of an attitude

[4]. subjective

[5]. subjectivism

[6]. Elizabeth Anscombe

[7]. Donald MacKinnon

[8]. descriptive and evaluative

[9]. Norman Malcolm

[10]. Michael Thompson

[11]. living things

[12]. natural normativity

[13]. temperance

[14]. intelligent dispositions

[15]. promises

[16]. practical rationality

[17]. Is Morality a System of Hypothetical Imperatives, The Philosophical Review, Vol. 81, No. 3, July 1972. Later reprinted in Virtues and Vices, 1978

[18]. desire-dependent

[19]. Warren Quinn

[20]. consistent

[21]. Normalcy

[22]. prudence

[23]. imprudence

[24]. This article, translated by Ms. Maryam Khodadadi, was published in issue 128 of the journal Ettela'at-e Hekmat va Ma'refat (Virtue Ethics Dossier 1).

[25]. Virtues and Vices, 1978, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, p. 5.

[26]. wisdom

[27]. account

[28]. happiness

[29]. protean

[30]. the enjoyment of good things

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A Grammar of Goodness

A Conversation with Philippa Foot

Translator: Kasra Hatampouri (PhD Candidate in Philosophy, Allameh Tabataba'i University)

Source: Ettela'at-e Hekmat va Ma'refat Magazine, Issue 141

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