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To what extent is Kantian Ethics only concerned with duty? [40]

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Immanuel Kant’s deontological ethics is founded on the idea that morality is grounded in duty, rather than outcomes or emotions. According to Kant, actions are morally right if they are done from a sense of duty, determined by reason, and in accordance with the categorical imperative—an objective, universal principle. This principle includes the well-known formulations: “Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law” and “Always treat humanity… as an end in itself, never merely as a means”. Kantian ethics, therefore, gives primacy to rational obligation and moral law over personal inclinations, consequences, or feelings. However, scholars debate whether Kant’s system is only concerned with duty. Kant’s emphasis on human dignity, autonomy, and the intrinsic worth of persons suggests that while duty is central, it is not the only concern. Others argue that Kantian ethics neglects emotional and relational elements like compassion or love, which also seem important to moral life. This essay will argue that while duty is foundational in Kantian ethics, the theory also incorporates other values—particularly rational autonomy, respect for persons, and moral consistency—which extend beyond mere rule-following. Therefore, Kantian ethics is primarily but not exclusively concerned with duty.

Firstly. Kant famously argued that the only thing good without qualification is a good will, which chooses to act out of duty as dictated by reason, regardless of consequences. He contrasted actions done “in accordance with duty” (which might happen to align with duty but be done for other reasons) with actions done “from duty”, which alone have genuine moral worth. This makes his ethics deontological: focused on the morality of actions themselves rather than outcomes. For example, telling the truth is a duty, and must be upheld even if lying would produce better consequences—such as saving a life. In his famous example of the murderer at the door, Kant insists that lying is always wrong, because it cannot be universalised. This reflects Kant’s belief that moral obligations must be rationally necessary and universally binding. The categorical imperative functions as a logical test: if the principle behind an action cannot be universalised without contradiction, the action is immoral. As Christine Korsgaard explains, Kant’s morality is not about specific rules, but about consistency in rational will. Therefore, the test of duty is not just obedience, but reason’s demand for universal moral law. In this sense, Kantian ethics is deeply rooted in duty as moral necessity, not emotional inclination or practical outcomes. This rational structure makes it uniquely suited for situations requiring impartiality and consistency.

Secondly, Kant’s emphasis on human dignity and autonomy shows that duty is not his only concern.  Though duty is central, Kant also emphasises respect for persons as rational beings with intrinsic value. The second formulation of the categorical imperative—treat people as ends in themselves—goes beyond blind rule-following. It requires that we treat individuals with inherent dignity, never using them as mere tools to achieve our own goals. This suggests that Kant is equally concerned with the moral worth of persons, not just the performance of duty. It also underpins modern human rights discourse, which derives much of its ethical grounding from Kantian ideas about dignity and autonomy. As Onora O’Neill argues, this aspect of Kantian ethics has deep practical implications for justice and equality. It underlines the wrongness of exploitation, deception, or coercion—because such acts deny the autonomy of others. For instance, in a business context, it would be wrong to mislead customers even if the action could be universalised, because it disrespects their capacity to make informed choices. Thus, Kant’s ethics is not simply about duty in the abstract, but about moral respect for others as rational agents. Moreover, Kant’s concept of the kingdom of ends envisions a moral community where all rational beings legislate universal laws for themselves, guided not just by duty, but mutual respect and reason. This introduces a relational and communal aspect to Kant’s system, countering claims that it is rigidly individualistic or mechanical. Therefore, while duty remains the method by which moral law is followed, the goal is a just, respectful community of moral agents.

However, critics argue that Kantian ethics is too narrowly focused on duty and neglects important moral dimensions. One prominent criticism, especially from virtue ethicists and situation ethicists, is that Kantian ethics ignores the role of emotions, relationships, and context. David Hume, for example, argued that morality is rooted in sentiment, not reason, and that feelings like sympathy play a crucial role in our moral judgments. By contrast, Kant believed that emotions were unreliable and morally irrelevant. But this leads to apparent absurdities: for instance, Kant would prohibit lying to save a friend’s life, because lying is always wrong. In this view, Kantian ethics becomes cold, inflexible, and overly abstract, failing to capture the complexities of human relationships. Joseph Fletcher’s Situation Ethics would also criticise Kant for ignoring agape love—selfless, compassionate concern for others—which should be the basis of moral decision-making. According to Fletcher, rigid rule-following often leads to unjust outcomes. For example, refusing euthanasia to a suffering patient out of a sense of duty may appear moral in Kantian terms, but seem cruel from a love-based perspective. Furthermore, some feminist ethicists, such as Carol Gilligan, have criticised Kantian ethics for being overly legalistic and impersonal, lacking the relational sensitivity that many moral decisions require. Nevertheless, these criticisms do not show that Kant is only concerned with duty—but that his version of duty excludes emotion-based ethics. Kant deliberately constructed his theory to avoid subjective and unstable moral foundations like emotion, but this does not mean he disregarded compassion or respect. In fact, his insistence on universal law and human dignity can support many of the outcomes praised by more emotionally oriented theories—such as honesty, fairness, and care. As Allen Wood notes, Kant’s moral theory is not indifferent to human well-being, but sees respect for autonomy as a deeper foundation than mere emotional empathy. Moreover, Kant does not deny the value of emotions; he simply argues that they cannot form the basis for moral obligation. Feelings can support moral action, but only duty can give it moral worth. A person who acts kindly out of sympathy does good, but a person who does so out of duty to respect others’ dignity acts morally. In this way, Kant seeks to preserve the objectivity and impartiality of ethics while still acknowledging that moral life often overlaps with compassion and human concern. His ethics may not be relational in the way virtue or care ethics are, but they are deeply committed to justice, respect, and the protection of rights, which are not reducible to duty alone.

In conclusion, while Kantian ethics is firmly grounded in duty as the foundation of moral action, it is not only concerned with duty. The theory includes rich concepts like autonomy, dignity, respect, and universality, which broaden its moral scope. Critics rightly note its rigidity and abstraction, but these are by-products of its pursuit of moral clarity and objectivity. Kantian ethics provides a robust, principled approach to ethics, where duty acts as a guide, but the end goal is a rational, respectful, and just moral community. Therefore, Kantian ethics is primarily concerned with duty—but not exclusively. Its deeper concern is with what reason demands: not just rules, but moral respect for all persons.

Kant’s categorical imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making. Discuss [40]

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Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative is the central principle of his deontological ethical theory and represents what he believed to be the demand of pure practical reason. Unlike consequentialist theories, Kant argued that morality is not about outcomes but about acting according to duty, which should be understood as referring to acting rationally and freely rather than ever out of habit or fear. As Kant explained it in the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), the categorical imperative requires moral agents to act only on principles that can be universalised, to treat humanity always as an end and never merely as a means, and to act as a law-making member of a kingdom of ends or, in other words, to act in ways that could be willed as a good example for everyone to follow. For Kant, morality is about acting rationally, on principle, with fairness and consistency. Because it is grounded in reason rather than emotion, religion or culture, it applies equally to all people and provides a basis for moral-decision making in multi-cultural societies. So, overall, Kant’s categorical imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making.

One reason why Kant’s categorical imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making is that it provides a clear and rational method for testing moral actions. Kant famously states in the Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals that one should “act only according to that maxim whereby you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law.” This principle helps moral agents step back from personal bias, emotion or self-interest and ask whether their action could fairly apply to everyone. For example, if lying were universalised, trust would collapse, making the practice of lying self-defeating. This logical clarity makes Kant’s approach especially helpful in everyday moral decisions, as it offers a straightforward test of consistency. Onora O’Neill supports this view, arguing that Kantian ethics exposes actions that rely on exceptions for oneself while denying them to others. In this way, the categorical imperative promotes fairness and impartiality, which are essential for moral decision-making in both personal and social contexts. Its emphasis on rational consistency makes it a reliable guide rather than a subjective one.

A further way in which Kant’s categorical imperative is very helpful is through its strong emphasis on human dignity. Kant’s second formulation requires that we “act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in that of another, always as an end and never merely as a means.” This principle offers powerful moral protection, particularly against exploitation, coercion and abuse. In moral decision-making, it sets a clear boundary: actions that use people purely for personal gain are always wrong, regardless of the outcome. This has been highly influential in modern ethical debates, including medical ethics and human rights. Christine Korsgaard argues that Kant’s ethics grounds human dignity in rational agency, making it unconditional rather than dependent on usefulness or happiness. This is especially helpful in difficult moral situations, as it prevents individuals from being sacrificed for convenience or benefit. By placing respect for persons at the centre of morality, Kant provides a moral framework that is both principled and humane.

However, a strong counterclaim is that Kant’s categorical imperative is not very helpful because it is too rigid and fails to account for consequences or emotional factors. Even Kant acknowledged that an absolute prohibition on lying would require telling the truth even to an axe-murderer at the door! This suggests that Kant’s theory can lead to morally troubling outcomes when applied strictly. Additionally, real-life moral decisions are often complex and emotionally charged, and critics argue that Kant’s emphasis on reason alone overlooks compassion and context. Bernard Williams criticises Kantian ethics for being detached from the realities of human moral experience, claiming it demands an unrealistic level of impartiality. From this perspective, Kant’s moral system may be logically consistent but practically unhelpful in nuanced situations where flexibility is required.  However, despite these criticisms, Kant’s categorical imperative remains highly helpful precisely because it provides clear moral limits. While consequences matter, Kant’s approach reminds moral agents that some actions should not be done, regardless of the situation. This is particularly important in preventing moral shortcuts justified by good intentions. Furthermore, defenders such as Onora O’Neill argue that many apparent conflicts arise from misapplying Kant’s theory rather than flaws within it. Kant does not require blind rule-following but the exact opposite; careful, free thought, making autonomous rational choices. In the murderer example, the issue lies in choosing between duties created by others’ wrongdoing. While Kant’s ethics may be demanding, this does not make it unhelpful; rather, it challenges individuals to act with integrity even under pressure. Its refusal to compromise on respect for persons makes it a vital safeguard in moral decision-making, especially in professional and institutional contexts.

In conclusion, Kant’s categorical imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making, particularly because it offers clarity, consistency and an uncompromising commitment to human dignity. The strongest reason for this is its insistence that moral actions must be fair, universal and respectful of persons as ends in themselves. Although Kant’s approach can appear inflexible and demanding, this rigidity serves an important purpose by setting clear moral boundaries. In a world where moral decisions are often influenced by self-interest or convenience, Kant’s ethics provides a principled framework grounded in reason. Moving forward, moral decision-makers should continue to use the categorical imperative as a foundational guide, while engaging thoughtfully with context, ensuring that respect for human dignity is never sacrificed for short-term gains.

Critically compare the views of Aquinas and Freud on the nature of the conscience and its role in moral decision-making. [40]

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The conscience is often understood as an inner guide that helps individuals to make moral decisions, but philosophers and psychologists disagree about what the conscience actually is and how reliable it can be. For Aquinas, the conscience is not a feeling or instinct but a rational process rooted in human reason and ultimately in God. He believed that all humans possess synderesis, an innate inclination to do good and avoid evil, and that conscience (conscientia) applies this knowledge to specific situations. By contrast, Freud saw the conscience as a purely psychological construct, formed through childhood experiences and social conditioning. He argued that conscience is part of the superego, which internalises parental and societal rules and punishes wrongdoing through guilt. This essay will critically compare these views and argue that Aquinas’ understanding of the conscience is more persuasive, because it offers a universal, rational basis for moral decision making and provides a clearer distinction between genuine moral responsibility and psychological pressure.

A key reason why Aquinas’ view of the conscience is more persuasive is that it provides an objective and rational foundation for moral decision making. Aquinas believed that conscience is rooted in synderesis, which is the God-given ability to recognise basic moral principles such as “do good and avoid evil.” This is not learned from society but is part of human nature, meaning that all people have access to moral truth regardless of culture or upbringing. Conscientia then uses reason to apply these principles to particular situations, for example deciding whether lying is justified in a specific context. This makes moral decision making an active, thoughtful process rather than an emotional reaction. In contrast, Freud argued that the conscience is shaped by external authority figures, especially parents, whose rules are internalised into the superego. This suggests that moral decisions are heavily influenced by upbringing and social norms rather than rational reflection. Aquinas’ view is stronger because it explains why people can critically evaluate social norms and even act against them when they are unjust, such as opposing slavery or discrimination. Freud’s theory struggles to explain moral progress, since if conscience is simply internalised authority, challenging society would go against the superego. Therefore, Aquinas offers a more convincing account of how individuals can make reasoned moral decisions that go beyond cultural conditioning, which strengthens the role of conscience as a reliable moral guide.

Furthermore, Aquinas’ understanding of conscience better supports moral responsibility and accountability. Because conscience involves the use of reason, Aquinas argued that individuals are responsible for forming their conscience correctly. This includes seeking knowledge, reflecting on moral principles, and avoiding ignorance. He distinguished between vincible ignorance, where someone could have known better, and invincible ignorance, where they could not. This allows Aquinas to explain why some people may act wrongly without full moral blame, while still maintaining that objective moral truth exists. Freud’s model, however, reduces conscience to psychological forces beyond an individual’s control. If guilt is simply the result of unconscious conflicts between the id and the superego, then moral feelings such as guilt or shame are not indicators of moral truth but of psychological tension. This undermines genuine moral responsibility, as individuals may feel guilty for actions that are not morally wrong, or feel no guilt for actions that are harmful, depending on their upbringing. Aquinas’ view is more persuasive because it aligns with the legal and moral intuition that people can be held accountable for their choices. It also encourages moral development, as individuals are expected to educate and refine their conscience rather than passively accept inherited norms. This makes Aquinas’ account more practical and ethically robust in guiding real moral decision making.

However, a strong counterclaim is that Freud’s account of conscience is more convincing because it is grounded in empirical psychology rather than theological assumptions. Freud’s theory is based on observation of human behaviour and explains why people often experience guilt even when no clear moral law has been broken. For example, someone might feel intense guilt about sexual thoughts or minor rule-breaking due to strict parental upbringing. Freud’s model helps to explain moral diversity, as different societies produce different superegos, and it also accounts for irrational guilt that Aquinas’ rational model cannot easily explain. Additionally, critics may argue that Aquinas’ reliance on God and natural law makes his view less persuasive in a pluralistic, secular society where belief in God is not universal. From this perspective, Freud’s theory appears more realistic and scientifically credible.  Despite this, Freud’s account ultimately weakens the authority of conscience rather than strengthening it. While it may explain why people feel guilt, it does not explain why some moral decisions are genuinely right or wrong. If conscience is merely social conditioning, then practices such as sexism or racism could be morally justified if they are socially approved. Aquinas avoids this problem by grounding conscience in reason and objective moral principles, allowing individuals to critique and reform unjust social norms. Moreover, Freud’s theory risks reducing moral decision making to what makes us feel better; the goal becomes avoiding guilt rather than doing good. Aquinas’ approach is more persuasive because it preserves the idea that conscience should guide us toward what ought to be done, not merely what helps us feel comfortable. Even in a secular context, Aquinas’ emphasis on reason and universal moral principles remains influential, as seen in human rights discourse and moral philosophy.

In conclusion, while Freud offers a valuable psychological explanation of how feelings of guilt and conscience develop, Aquinas’ view of conscience is more persuasive as a guide to moral decision making. His account provides a rational, universal and objective basis for morality, supports genuine moral responsibility, and allows individuals to challenge unjust social norms. The strongest reason for preferring Aquinas is that he preserves the conscience as a tool for discovering moral truth rather than reducing it to psychological conditioning. Ultimately, if society is to make meaningful moral progress, individuals must be encouraged not simply to obey internalised rules, but to reason critically about what is truly good and just—and Aquinas’ understanding of conscience best supports this goal.

Kant’s Categorical Imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making. Discuss [40]

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Kant’s Categorical Imperative is a universal, absolutist, deontological ethical principle which holds that moral actions are those which can be willed as universal laws and which treat humanity always as an end in itself rather than merely as a means. Developed by Immanuel Kant in the Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785), it offers a rational, duty-based alternative to consequentialist ethics. Whether it is “very helpful” in moral decision-making depends on what “helpful” is taken to mean: it may refer to providing consistent rational guidance, producing action-guiding clarity in real cases, or delivering intuitively acceptable outcomes. This essay will argue that Kant’s Categorical Imperative is helpful in establishing rational consistency, grounded in respect for persons, but is less helpful as a practical decision procedure in complex or tragic situations, where it often produces unclear and/or controversial and counter-intuitive guidance.

Firstly, Kant’s Categorical Imperative (CI) is helpful because it provides a rigorous test of moral consistency through universalisation, which brings logical clarity to moral reasoning. Kant’s Formula of Universal Law requires agents to act only on maxims that they can will to become universal laws without contradiction. Kant illustrates this through examples in the Groundwork, such as the person considering suicide to escape suffering or the agent tempted to make a false promise to obtain money. In both cases, Kant argues that universalising the maxim leads to a contradiction either in conception (a world where promises are universally broken undermines the institution of promising itself) or in will (a rational agent cannot will a world where the natural purpose of life-preserving faculties is systematically destroyed). This structure is helpful because it forces agents to consider the generalisability of their actions rather than acting on impulse or self-interest. Henry Allison defends this procedural reading of Kant, arguing that the CI functions as a test of rational consistency rather than a substantive moral code, which strengthens its appeal as a universal decision-making tool. Similarly, Paul Guyer emphasises that Kant’s ethics is grounded in autonomy and rational self-legislation, meaning moral agents are guided by principles they could rationally endorse for all. This is helpful because it offers a stable, impartial framework that avoids relativism and emotional bias. However, while the procedure is logically powerful, critics note that translating real-life actions into precise maxims can be difficult, and small differences in formulation may affect outcomes. Nevertheless, its emphasis on rational consistency remains a major reason why the CI is considered helpful in moral reasoning.

Secondly, Kant’s Categorical Imperative is helpful because it protects human dignity through the Formula of Humanity, which requires that persons are always treated as ends in themselves. This formulation is especially influential in applied ethics because it prohibits coercion, deception and exploitation, grounding morality in respect for rational agents. Kant’s own examples illustrate this clearly: the false promise case is wrong because it manipulates another person’s rational agency for personal gain, while cases of exploitation, such as using others merely as tools for benefit, violate their intrinsic worth. A further example is Kant’s discussion of aiding those in extreme need, such as a starving family, where the moral issue is not simply outcome-based charity but whether one’s action respects humanity as an end rather than a means. This emphasis on dignity has had major influence on modern human rights discourse, where individuals are seen as possessing inviolable moral status. Christine Korsgaard develops this idea by arguing that Kantian ethics grounds moral obligation in the structure of rational agency itself, making respect for persons not optional but constitutive of morality. This is helpful because it provides strong moral constraints that protect individuals even when violating those constraints might produce beneficial consequences. Of course, critics argue that strict application of the CI can lead to morally troubling results, such as the apparent requirement to refuse lying even when doing so could prevent serious harm. Still, the protection of dignity and autonomy makes the Categorical Imperative helpful as a moral safeguard.

However, despite these strengths, the helpfulness of the Categorical Imperative is limited in practice because its abstract universalisation procedure can generate rigid or controversial conclusions in complex situations. Kant famously argues in his essay On a Supposed Right to Lie from Philanthropy that one must not lie even to a murderer at the door seeking a victim. This “axe murderer” example is often used to show the counterintuitive implications of strict adherence to universal moral law. From Kant’s perspective, lying is always wrong because it cannot be universalised without contradiction and it violates respect for rational agency. However, many critics find this conclusion deeply problematic, as it appears to prioritise abstract consistency over preventing immediate harm. Onora O’Neill defends Kant by arguing that the real focus should be on avoiding coercion and deception rather than literal rule-following, suggesting a more flexible interpretation of duties. By contrast, scholars such as Allison note that even Kant’s own system struggles with underdetermination, since multiple maxims may be formulated for the same act, leading to different universalisation outcomes. Guyer similarly highlights tensions between Kant’s formalism and practical moral judgement, especially where duties appear to conflict in lived experience. These issues suggest that while the CI is theoretically systematic, its application may not always be straightforwardly helpful, particularly in urgent or tragic cases where moral intuition strongly conflicts with its verdicts.

Further, Kant’s Categorical Imperative may be considered less helpful in moral decision-making because its strict separation of duty from consequences can limit its practical guidance in real-world ethical dilemmas. Kant insists that moral worth depends on acting from duty rather than inclination or outcome, meaning that even well-intentioned actions must be judged by their maxims rather than their effects. This can create tension in cases where consequences seem morally decisive, such as theft to feed a starving family. While Kant would likely reject theft because it cannot be universalised without contradiction in relation to property rights, many would see the outcome as morally compelling. This reveals a limitation: the CI does not directly accommodate proportionality or context-sensitive judgement. Nevertheless, defenders argue that this rigidity is precisely what preserves moral integrity, preventing moral reasoning from collapsing into subjective calculation. Even so, the need for interpretative supplementation—highlighted by contemporary Kantian scholars—suggests that the CI often requires additional judgement to be practically helpful. Therefore, while it remains a powerful rational framework, its usefulness in guiding concrete moral decisions is not always straightforward.

In conclusion, Kant’s Categorical Imperative is very helpful in moral decision-making when “helpful” is understood as providing rational consistency, protecting human dignity, and establishing universal moral constraints grounded in respect for persons. Its strengths lie in its logical structure, as defended by scholars such as Henry Allison and Paul Guyer, and in its powerful moral protections exemplified through Kant’s own cases such as false promise-making and the axe murderer. However, its helpfulness is more limited when understood as a practical decision procedure, since real-world moral life often involves ambiguity, conflict, and urgency that the CI struggles to resolve without interpretative assistance. Therefore, the Categorical Imperative is best seen as highly helpful as a foundational framework for moral reasoning, but not always fully sufficient as a standalone guide to complex moral decision-making.

“In situation ethics, moral decision-making is entirely individualistic and subjective.” Discuss [40]

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Situation ethics is a teleological and relativist ethical theory most fully developed by Joseph Fletcher in the 1960s, which argues that moral decision-making should be guided not by absolute rules but by agape—selfless, unconditional love. While other situational approaches exist, such as those proposed by William Temple and John A. T. Robinson, this essay will focus specifically on Fletcher’s formulation. In Situation Ethics (1966), Fletcher rejects both legalism (strict adherence to moral laws, such as Natural Law or Divine Command Theory) and antinomianism (the rejection of all moral constraints, associated with thinkers like Søren Kierkegaard), proposing instead a middle way where principles guide but do not determine action. However, despite Fletcher’s intention to avoid complete relativism by grounding ethics in agape, this essay will argue that his approach ultimately renders moral decision-making highly individualistic and subjective, because it depends on personal judgement in both defining and applying love within each situation.

Firstly, Fletcher’s rejection of absolute moral laws clearly demonstrates the individualistic nature of situation ethics. By reducing traditional moral rules to contingent “rules of thumb,” Fletcher allows individuals to override them whenever they conflict with agape. His four working principles—pragmatism, relativism, positivism, and personalism—prioritise flexibility and personal engagement with moral dilemmas. For example, relativism explicitly denies that moral norms are fixed, with Fletcher insisting that “the situationist avoids words like ‘never’ and ‘always’.” This rejection of universality is reinforced by his use of case studies such as the “honey trap” and the bombing of Hiroshima, where he invites individuals to determine the most loving course of action for themselves rather than prescribing a single correct response. This approach is attractive in that it avoids the moral rigidity of systems like Natural Law, allowing agents to respond compassionately in exceptional circumstances, such as lying to protect innocent life. However, as John A. T. Robinson later recognised, such freedom risks descending into “moral chaos” without firm boundaries. The absence of binding rules means that moral authority rests entirely with the individual, reinforcing the claim that situation ethics is fundamentally individualistic.

Secondly, this individualism leads directly to subjectivity, as Fletcher’s system relies on each person interpreting and applying agape for themselves. Fletcher defines agape in broadly utilitarian terms as the maximisation of love or wellbeing for those involved, claiming that “only the end justifies the means.” However, this raises immediate difficulties, as there is no universally agreed definition of what constitutes “the most loving” outcome. Different individuals may prioritise different aspects of wellbeing—emotional, physical, spiritual—or even different groups of people. For instance, Fletcher’s focus on the immediate situation, as seen in the case of Mrs Bergmeier, arguably neglects wider social consequences, such as the long-term impact of undermining moral norms. Critics such as William Barclay argue that if love is the only law, then “each man has to decide what love means,” inevitably leading to conflicting conclusions. This subjectivity can be seen as a strength, allowing moral agents to act compassionately in complex and tragic circumstances where rigid rules would produce inhumane outcomes. Nevertheless, it also creates inconsistency and unpredictability, as two equally sincere individuals may justify entirely opposite actions as “loving.” Therefore, Fletcher’s reliance on personal interpretation ensures that moral decision-making is not only individualistic but also deeply subjective.

However, it could be argued that situation ethics is not entirely subjective because it is grounded in the objective and universal principle of agape, which provides a consistent moral standard. Fletcher insists that agape is not a matter of personal preference but a rational principle rooted in Christian teaching, exemplified by the command to “love your neighbour.” His six fundamental principles are intended to give structure to moral reasoning, emphasising that love is intrinsically good, that it is the ruling norm, and that justice is love distributed. From this perspective, situation ethics could be seen as objective, since all moral agents are aiming at the same end. Yet this defence ultimately fails. While agape may be universal in theory, Fletcher provides no clear method for calculating or measuring love in practice, leaving its application open to interpretation. The six principles are highly abstract and offer little concrete guidance when principles conflict or when consequences are uncertain. As a result, the supposed objectivity of agape collapses into subjectivity at the point of application. Two individuals may both sincerely aim to act in accordance with agape yet arrive at incompatible conclusions, undermining the claim that situation ethics provides a stable moral standard. Therefore, even this counterargument reinforces the view that moral decision-making within situation ethics remains fundamentally subjective.

In conclusion, Fletcher’s situation ethics ultimately renders moral decision-making both individualistic and subjective. Although it aspires to ground ethical reasoning in the universal principle of agape, its rejection of absolute moral laws and reliance on personal judgement mean that individuals must determine for themselves what love requires in each situation. The strongest support for this view lies in the absence of any clear or consistent method for applying agape, which leads to divergent and potentially conflicting moral conclusions. While this flexibility allows situation ethics to respond sensitively to complex moral dilemmas, it also undermines its reliability as a moral framework. Therefore, situation ethics is best understood not as a true middle way between legalism and antinomianism, but as a system that ultimately collapses into subjectivity. Ethical theories going forward should seek to preserve Fletcher’s emphasis on compassion while also incorporating clearer moral boundaries to ensure consistency and coherence in moral decision-making.

Critically evaluate the view that conscience is the best guide when making decisions about sex. [40]

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Conscience, for Aquinas, is the application of moral knowledge to specific situations, a rational process (conscientia) rooted in an innate awareness of moral law (synderesis). Freud, by contrast, saw conscience as part of the superego—an unconscious internalisation of social and parental norms, often tied to feelings of guilt and repression, especially in matters of sexuality. These contrasting views lead to different evaluations of whether conscience can be trusted as a moral guide. Natural law theorists and some liberal theologians might affirm that conscience, when properly informed, is the best guide in private moral matters such as sex. However, others argue that conscience is fallible, shaped by social forces or limited understanding, and therefore unreliable. This essay will argue that conscience is not the best guide when making decisions about sex. Both Aquinas and Freud highlight that conscience requires proper formation or critical analysis to be trustworthy; by itself, it is too dependent on reason, psychological conditioning, or social norms to reliably lead to moral truth.

One reason conscience is not the best guide when making decisions about sex is that, for Aquinas, conscience is not infallible and must be correctly formed in order to lead to right action. Aquinas described conscience (conscientia) as the act of applying moral knowledge (synderesis) to particular cases through reason. Because this process involves human judgment, it can err. A person may reach the wrong moral conclusion about a sexual act, for example believing contraception to be morally acceptable, even though, by Aquinas’ standards of natural law, it frustrates the natural end of procreation and is therefore wrong. However, crucially, Aquinas argued that it is always a duty to follow one’s conscience—even when it is mistaken. To act against conscience is to act against reason, and since reason is the image of the divine in the human person, deliberately disobeying conscience is always sinful. Paradoxically, this means that someone who, in good conscience, engages in immoral sexual behaviour may still be morally blameworthy, though less so than someone who knowingly chooses to do wrong. Aquinas’ view highlights a key limitation of conscience: it can bind even when wrong. If conscience were the best guide in sexual decision-making, it would need to reliably lead to good moral outcomes—but in Aquinas’ account, it does not guarantee this. Its authority lies not in its accuracy but in its role as the proximate guide of action. This makes it essential, but not sufficient: it cannot be the best guide unless it is first well formed through right reasoning and knowledge of moral law. Therefore, while Aquinas upholds the dignity and authority of conscience, his account also reveals its dependence on prior moral formation, which prevents it from being the highest or most reliable guide on its own.

A further reason conscience is not the best guide in matters of sex comes from Freud’s analysis of its psychological roots. Freud viewed conscience as a function of the superego, the part of the mind that internalises moral and social prohibitions learned during early childhood. In his view, conscience is not a rational tool for discerning objective moral truth but a psychological mechanism enforcing conformity through feelings of guilt and anxiety. This is especially evident in sexual ethics, where many people experience shame or repression not because their actions are truly immoral, but because they contravene internalised taboos. For example, someone might feel deep guilt over homosexual desires or masturbation, not because those acts are intrinsically wrong, but because their superego has absorbed a strict moral code from parents or religious authority. Freud’s analysis suggests that conscience, far from being the best moral guide, is often a reflection of social conditioning and unconscious fears. While he did not advocate abandoning conscience altogether, Freud believed that true moral maturity comes from bringing these unconscious forces into conscious reflection, allowing individuals to examine and question their inherited values. Conscience may therefore need to be deconstructed and re-evaluated before it can be trusted. This challenges the idea that conscience is the best guide, particularly in areas like sexual ethics, where historical repression and moral panic have left deep psychological imprints. If conscience is often a distorted product of cultural anxiety, then following it uncritically may do more harm than good. Thus, Freud’s theory supports the view that conscience must be scrutinised rather than obeyed, making it a necessary but unreliable guide in decisions about sex.

Nevertheless, some argue that conscience is the best moral guide in sexual matters precisely because it allows individuals to make personal, context-sensitive judgments in complex or private situations. This view is supported by thinkers such as John Henry Newman, who described conscience as the “voice of God” speaking within the individual. Many liberal Christians similarly maintain that conscience, when properly informed by love, compassion, and reflection, offers the most authentic and morally sensitive way to navigate questions of sex—such as the permissibility of same-sex relationships, contraception, or divorce. For example, an individual might, after careful thought and prayer, conclude in conscience that a faithful, loving same-sex partnership is morally acceptable, even if traditional doctrine suggests otherwise. In such cases, conscience functions as a source of moral autonomy and responsibility, rather than blind obedience to external rules. However, even this more optimistic account rests on the assumption that conscience has been adequately formed and freed from irrational prejudice or self-deception. Both Aquinas and Freud would challenge this assumption. Aquinas would insist that conscience must be aligned with right reason and divine law to lead to true moral judgments. Freud would caution that what feels like a voice of authenticity may in fact be a buried voice of repression. In either case, the trustworthiness of conscience depends on factors beyond the individual’s immediate experience. Thus, while the appeal to conscience has emotional and moral weight, it does not establish conscience as the best guide—only as a significant one, whose conclusions must still be tested and examined.

In conclusion, conscience is not the best guide when making decisions about sex. The strongest reason for this is Aquinas’ recognition that while conscience must always be followed, it can still be mistaken and lead to sin, even when it binds sincerely. This highlights that conscience is only as reliable as the knowledge and reasoning that inform it. Freud reinforces this by showing how conscience may reflect internalised societal repression rather than genuine moral insight, particularly in the area of sexuality. Both thinkers suggest that conscience cannot stand alone; it must be formed, questioned, and corrected through deeper engagement with reason, law, and the self. In an age of competing moral values and sexual diversity, individuals should be encouraged to reflect critically on their conscience, test it against evidence and principle, and be wary of treating it as the highest authority. Conscience matters—but it must be educated and examined, not simply obeyed.

We all know the difference between right and wrong; it is just common sense. Critically assess this claim. [40]

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While it is easy to understand why somebody might say that we all know the difference between right and wrong, because most people do and because in general what is right causes most people to be happy and what is wrong causes suffering, the fact that some criminals either aren’t aware of their actions being wrong or don’t care suggests that this claim is not sound. 

Firstly, while St Thomas Aquinas did argue that we all have a God-given desire for the good and to avoid evil (Conscientia, the Primary Precept of Natural Law) he argued that we need to learn how to put this desire into practice by developing our Synderesis (what Aristotle called Practical Reason). Superficially it might seem that inherently wrong actions serve one or more of the basic human goods of natural law.  For example, killing my enemy might seem like it promotes peace and harmony in society.  Nevertheless, it also goes against the basic human good of life, so I must learn that killing can never be right, even when it affects an unpopular troublemaker!  When people do evil things, argues Aquinas, it is usually because they are pursuing an apparent and not a real good and this because their synderesis has not been properly formed.  For Aquinas then, it is not fair to say that we all have clear knowledge of the difference between right and wrong or that this is “just common sense”.  While we have good instincts for morality, we need to learn what is right and what is wrong and it is not always the way these seem superficially. 

Secondly, Immanuel Kant argued that the moral law appeals to peoples’ reason as a synthetic a priori, suggesting that we all have a knowledge of good and evil regardless of our experience in the world.  Nevertheless, he was at pains to explain how what is right is not always what makes people happy or seems instinctively to be the correct course of action.  Take, for example, Kant’s famous axe-murderer example from the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals (1785).  Kant argued that it is right to tell the truth, even though we suspect that this will lead to the death of a friend, rather than tell what seems to be a white lie to save a life.  This is far from being common-sense!  For Kant though, reason shows us that if we can’t universalise the maxim of lying and would be using the suspected axe-murderer as a means to an end of saving our friend then what we do would be irrational and wrong.  The moral law is a categorical imperative and will not allow us to make decisions situationally, but demands consistent rational action. This shows that while we all have the ability to know the difference between right and wrong, this is not just common sense but requires deep thought and analysis. 

On the other hand, utilitarians like Jeremy Bentham argue that “nature has placed mankind under two sovereign masters; the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain” meaning that maximising pleasure is natural to human beings, which implies both that everybody knows the difference between right and wrong and that this could reasonably be described as “common sense.”  Yet this is not convincing because there is a gap between our instinct to pursue our own pleasure and knowing that we should maximise human pleasure in general.  Hume pointed out the is-ought gap in logic that affects Bentham’s reasoning and GE Moore dismissed classical Utilitarianism for relying on the Naturalistic Fallacy as well as for reducing goodness to what causes pleasure in a way that he felt to be far too simplistic.  Moore pointed out that it makes sense to ask if an instance of pleasure is good, as well as whether pleasure is good per se, which shows that pleasure is not in fact good in itself.  This means that many people might not know the difference between right and wrong by a utilitarian definition. Out instinct to maximise pleasure is not the same as a natural knowledge of the difference between right and wrong and the utilitarian moral imperative – to sacrifice our own interests when this would make more people happy – does not seem to be “common sense” to everybody! 

Further, drawing on Platonism GE Moore argued that all people recognise goodness when they see it, although goodness itself is indefinable. This is quite appealing because it explains why many people see fruitlessly altruistic actions – like a soldier getting blown up disobeying orders in trying to save an injured comrade – as good when this can’t be explained by other means. Yet, it is a stretch to say that everybody knows that such actions are good or that it is “common sense” when there is such a diversity of opinion and disagreement about this sort of issue.  While scholars like CS Lewis and Alastair MacIntyre were right to point out that some values and virtues are admired across ages and cultural boundaries, not all values and virtues are and certainly not by everybody.  If they were, there wouldn’t be any cultural disagreements over issues like polygamy and FGM and neither would there be any crime.  Wittgenstein’s approach of seeing meaning and truth depending on the rules of a “language game” and varying over time and between contexts makes best sense of the diversity that exists in the moral sphere, despite some basic agreement over the value of human life. This approach also casts doubt on both the claim that everybody knows the difference between right and wrong and the claim that such is “common sense”… because what is right and what is wrong depend on context and is neither objective, nor universal.

It seems that Hume’s sentimentalism or even AJ Ayer’s emotivism best explain why some people admire fruitless altruistic actions while others condemn them. By Hume’s analysis, our moral values represent our sentimental reactions to actions.  Surely, most people are repelled by murder, but this does not mean that there is something “wrong” about murder that can be “known,” only that many people share feelings about an action which often causes suffering. Further, by Ayer’s analysis, moral claims have no factual significance but are expressions of emotions and feelings in much the same way as hooray or boo might be.  Again, they don’t make ontological claims about actions, but only express approval or disapproval.  JL Mackie agreed with Ayer, arguing that moral values are “queer” in not belonging to any category of existence and that moral claims are based on errors.  For Hume, Ayer and Mackie, the difference between right and wrong is not something that can be “known” at all…. only felt.  The feeling that murder is wrong might appear to be based on “common sense” but this would apply only if “common sense” refers to popular opinion rather than the universal knowledge suggested by the wording of the title.  As RM Hare suggested, people might be prescribing actions when they say things like “murder is wrong”, rather than making a claim about murder itself, suggesting that a claim like murder is wrong has meaning while lacking factual significance. Yet, the fact that as CL Stevenson observed, moral claims are difficult to analyse and might in fact be doing a lot of different things suggests that it is wrong to say that everybody has knowledge of right and wrong, let alone that these are matters of “common sense”. 

In conclusion, while the claim that “we all know the difference between right and wrong; it is just common sense” is superficially attractive, it cannot withstand deeper critical analysis. For ethical realists, the claim goes well beyond what most would suggest.  For most ethical naturalists the knowledge of good and evil, while open to everybody, demands deeper analysis and study to attain.  Similarly, for most non-naturalists a priori knowledge of right and wrong goes beyond common sense and demands deeper thought.  While GE Moore did argue that it makes no sense to keep asking what goodness is because it is indefinable, an intuition… and we either recognise it or we don’t, even for him – the author of a famous essay called “Common Sense” (1905) knowledge of the difference between right and wrong is not the sort of gut reaction that this phrase might often suggest.  Also, for ethical non-realists the difference between right and wrong is neither something that has factual significance and can be “known” nor something that is agreed on in the way that “common sense” might suggest. 

Assess Sigmund Freud’s view of the conscience. [40]

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Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, developed a psychological account of the conscience rooted in his tripartite model of the psyche: the id, ego, and super-ego. The id represents instinctive drives, the ego is the rational mediator with the external world, and the super-ego forms through the internalisation of parental and societal norms. Freud believed that the conscience operates within the super-ego and emerges during early childhood, especially through resolving the Oedipus complex, during which the child internalises authority figures’ moral standards. For Freud, the conscience is not a divine or rational guide but a psychological mechanism designed to control behaviour through guilt and anxiety. Freud’s view of the conscience is ultimately flawed, as it reduces moral awareness to unconscious repression and social conditioning, and fails to account for authentic moral responsibility or objective moral knowledge.

Firstly, Freud’s theory presents conscience as the result of early childhood development, particularly through the repression of unacceptable desires and the internalisation of external authority. While this offers a plausible explanation for the feelings of guilt that can accompany moral failure, it also leads to a highly relativistic and subjective account of morality. If conscience is simply the product of cultural norms and parental expectations, then it becomes difficult to explain how people can meaningfully challenge the moral values of their upbringing. For example, Jean Piaget’s research into moral development showed that children progress from heteronomous morality (based on external rules) to autonomous morality (based on internal principles), suggesting that morality can mature beyond social conditioning. Lawrence Kohlberg further argued that the highest level of moral reasoning is based on universal ethical principles, not conformity to rules. These developmental models imply that conscience is more than an internalised superego—it has the capacity to reason, reflect and evolve. Freud’s model, by contrast, traps the individual within their early psychological environment, undermining the idea that conscience can offer a rational or universal moral standard. His view might explain guilt, but it cannot reliably distinguish between moral guilt and unhealthy repression.

Additionally, Freud’s portrayal of the conscience as a largely punitive force presents a narrow and negative understanding of moral awareness. In Civilisation and Its Discontents, Freud suggested that conscience becomes more severe as society imposes greater restrictions on instinctual life, resulting in increasing guilt and psychological discomfort. This bleak view of the conscience as a source of anxiety ignores the possibility that it can serve a positive, guiding role. Erich Fromm, a fellow psychoanalyst, criticised Freud’s reduction of conscience to a repressive super-ego, proposing instead that a “humanistic conscience” arises from our inner awareness of what fosters growth, integrity and human flourishing. Fromm’s perspective better accounts for the experience of moral clarity and peace when acting in accordance with one’s values, not merely the avoidance of guilt. Furthermore, religious thinkers such as St Augustine and Cardinal Newman viewed conscience as a means by which the individual discerns the will of God. Newman called it the “aboriginal Vicar of Christ,” highlighting its role in pointing toward truth, even in the absence of external authority. Freud’s theory, by contrast, dismisses such transcendental elements and fails to account for why conscience sometimes leads people to oppose social expectations rather than conform to them. The super-ego, in his view, punishes disobedience but does not inspire moral courage or sacrificial goodness.

Nonetheless, some scholars have defended aspects of Freud’s theory as a helpful corrective to overly idealised or religious accounts of the conscience. Freud exposed how moral beliefs can be shaped by psychological pressures and social authority, revealing that what people regard as conscience may sometimes be little more than internalised fear. For instance, Joseph Butler argued that conscience is a God-given faculty that naturally approves of virtue and disapproves of vice. However, Freud would argue that such confidence in moral intuition overlooks the fact that what appears to be “right” might simply be what we have been taught to believe, regardless of its objective moral status. Freud’s view has found support among feminist thinkers such as Carol Gilligan, who argued that traditional moral development theories—like Kohlberg’s—often ignore the role of care, context and relational factors. She suggested that feelings of guilt and responsibility are more complex and shaped by interpersonal dynamics than Freud or rationalist models allow. However, while both Freud and Gilligan helpfully highlight the emotional and social dimensions of the conscience, their approaches do not replace the need for a standard by which conscience can be judged as right or wrong. Freud’s theory lacks any clear framework for moral evaluation, meaning it cannot explain why one person’s conscience might be more morally trustworthy than another’s. The idea of objective moral truth—found in thinkers like Aquinas, who grounded conscience in reason and natural law—is entirely absent in Freud’s psychology.

In conclusion, Freud’s view of the conscience is ultimately flawed, as it reduces moral awareness to unconscious repression and social conditioning, and fails to account for authentic moral responsibility or objective moral knowledge. While Freud offers valuable insight into how conscience can be shaped by upbringing and can generate unhealthy guilt, his model is ultimately too narrow and pessimistic. The strongest critiques—from Piaget, Fromm, and Newman—highlight that conscience is not merely a psychological mechanism but a dynamic and potentially rational or spiritual guide to truth. To understand the conscience fully, students must engage both with the psychological forces Freud identified and with the rational and ethical capacities recognised in moral development theory and religious tradition. Only then can the conscience be seen not just as an echo of early experience, but as a mature faculty that seeks and responds to the good.

Critically evaluate Aquinas’ approach to moral decision making. [40]

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Aquinas’ approach to moral decision-making goes well beyond basic Natural Moral Law. Influenced by Aristotle, Aquinas’ ethic is sophisticated and includes a virtue ethic and theory of conscience as well as a normative approach for deciding on what is right and what is wrong. As such, Aquinas’ approach to moral decision-making is very useful.

Firstly, because Aquinas’ approach is rooted in Aristotelian Ethics it is supported by rational arguments and is consistent. Like Aristotle, Aquinas observed human beings and saw that people tend to flourish and then defined his primary precepts or basic human goods in relation to human flourishing, in terms of what supports that end. People flourish when they enjoy long life, live peaceably in society, when they have children and teach them and when they learn and praise God. Aquinas reasoned that actions which contribute to one or more of these goods and so to flourishing are right and actions which inhibit one or more of these ends are wrong. The secondary precepts of Aquinas’ natural law are, therefore, easily deduced from the primary precepts, providing a useful source of moral guidance and justification for rules, which are more practical and useful than expecting people to make decisions situationally. Nevertheless, Aquinas recognised that everyday decision-making is not only about following rules like do not murder… flourishing involves developing positive habits (virtues) and avoiding vices. Aquinas agreed with Aristotle (and modern virtue ethicists also agree) that habits, as well as consideration of somebody’s whole character rather than only individual actions, are useful in moral decision-making. This focus on virtue, habits and character has been overlooked by Roman Catholic Ethics in their application of Aquinas’ approach, leading to what Fletcher criticised as a legalistic approach, meaning that Aquinas’ approach is more useful than Roman Catholic applications of his thinking today. In addition, Aquinas argued that people should act autonomously, following their God-given desire to do good and avoid evil and what they have learned from practical reason (synderesis) to act on what their conscience suggests as a moral duty. This focus on individual autonomy and conscience also makes Aquinas’ moral philosophy more useful than Roman catholic applications of it, which often seem to support blind obedience. As Kant, William Temple and Bonhoeffer would point out, “on freedom our moral life depends.” If we don’t make decisions for ourselves, but defer to authority and practice blind obedience then we will not flourish as a person even if strictly speaking we do the right thing. This shows that Aquinas’ approach to moral decision-making is a useful one and more useful than Roman Catholic applications of it today.

Secondly, Aquinas approach to moral decision-making is useful because it is rooted in and is consistent with the Bible and Christian faith. For Aquinas, the reason people want to flourish and act to support human flourishing is because God created them that way. In Genesis 1, God creates people good and orders them to “be fruitful and increase in number…” showing that flourishing and following the primary precepts of living long, procreating etc. are in fact doing God’s will. Whereas Aristotle’s ethic is avowedly non-religious, Aquinas’ ethic is so acceptable to Christians – still the largest group of religious believers in the world – that it was adopted as the basis for Roman Catholic ethics at the Council of Trent. Today, Roman Catholic Ethics stands on the three legs of Scripture, Tradition and Reason as authorities… meaning that it is not subject to Biblical literalism as Protestant ethics is, and neither is it changeable, inconsistent or unreasonably conservative. Aquinas showed the Church the way to achieve this, which has contributed significantly to the Church’s survival and growth through centuries of change and new moral challenges. Clearly, Roman Catholic Ethics today has rightly been criticised for being Legalistic, inflexible and encouraging blind obedience, but other scholars have returned to Aquinas for inspiration in showing how this is a selective and not a necessary application of His original ethic. For example, John Finnis roots his ethic in Aquinas, providing an approach which encourages both autonomy and acting according to Church teachings. Bernard Hoose also roots his proportionalism in Aquinas, and shows that it can be applied to support breaking even the strongest prohibitions in extreme situations, avoiding the criticism of being inflexible. Again, the fact that Aquinas’ approach to moral decision-making is so useful to Christians shows that it is a useful approach.

On the other hand, Aquinas’ approach to decision making has been widely criticised. Natural Law relies on moving from observations of the natural world to claims about how we ought to behave. Hume pointed out that moving from an is to an ought needs significant justification, because how things are is not a good guide for how things necessarily ought to be. Further, GE Moore rejected Natural Law because it depends on what he called the Naturalistic Fallacy, suggesting that people should do what they naturally do. Nevertheless, John Finnis has rejected this criticism of Aquinas’ Natural Law, pointing out that Aquinas can be interpreted as being an intuitionist, seeing that the desire to do good and avoid evil and the primary precepts appeal directly to reason before and without experience. This shows that the metaethical critique of Hume and Moore is not conclusive. Aquinas’ virtue ethic has also been criticised by Kantians for encouraging people to develop habits rather than making rational decisions each time. For Kant a “good will” can only be good by acting freely and rationally, being fully human, in every decision, acting out of habit would make a will bad, even if it did the “right” thing as a result. Nevertheless, Finnis again shows that Aquinas’ concern for virtue and character can be brought together with his natural law by making “practical reasonableness” one of the basic human goods. Rather than separating natural law and virtue ethics, Finnis sees being free and rational as the single human habit on which being good – whether in individual actions or character-traits – depends. Again, this shows that Aquinas’ approach to decision-making can be made to evade criticisms and can still be useful. Finally, Aquinas has been criticised for having a over-complicated and speculative account of conscience which is likely to lead people into error, following the guidance of their own imperfect synderesis rather than the infallible teachings of the Church. It is true that Aquinas’ theory of conscience is not based on science, but then again, neither really is Freud’s! Aquinas’ understanding of conscience does do justice to human experience, explaining why we naturally want to do good and avoid evil but also why we sometimes struggle to know how and feel drawn to break moral norms. It is also consistent with other theological accounts of conscience, such as that of Newman, and with Philosophical accounts as well, such as Kant. In this way, Aquinas’ use of conscience within his approach to moral decision-making is not a weakness and his approach is still useful.

In conclusion, Aquinas’ approach to moral decision-making remains useful, both to Christians and more widely. While the application of Aquinas’ approach by the Roman Catholic Church has led Aquinas’ approach to be treated with scepticism, it merits serious consideration both by Catholics and by everybody else.

“Utilitarianism is more useful than Kantian Ethics when it comes to deciding whether to blow the whistle.” Evaluate this statement [40]

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Corporate whistleblowing is the act of an employee or insider reporting unethical, illegal, or harmful practices within an organisation to authorities, regulators, the media, or the public. Kantian Ethics and Utilitarianism have very different approaches to if and when to blow the whistle. While Kantian Ethics follows a sense of duty and therefore often forbids blowing the whistle, because corporate whistleblowers are breaking promises made to their employer through their contract of employment not to reveal sensitive information that might harm the business,  Utilitarianism is concerned about the greatest happiness for the greatest number and therefore often supports whistleblowing, because it forces companies to behave more ethically. In this way, Utilitarianism is more useful than Kantian Ethics when it comes to deciding whether to blow the whistle.

Firstly, the word “useful” refers to utility or the total amount of happiness produced by a decision. Because utilitarianism aims to maximise happiness in any given situation, determining whether or not to blow the whistle based on whether this would be “useful” or not, self-evidently U is the most useful approach. By contrast KE focuses on duties, so might encourage people not to blow the whistle even when this would maximise happiness, because they would also break a contract. For Kant, negative duties e.g. not to break a promise, always outweigh positive duties e.g. to help people. For example, in the case of Sherron Watkins, the vice president of Enron, who had raised concerns about the company’s accounting irregularities before senior management, it would have been unjustified not to raise suspicions because of the sense of duty KE dictates. Utilitarianism is about predicting consequences and then weighing up your options. Watkins rightly predicted that if Enron continued with its use of off-the-books entities to hide debt, the business would eventually collapse, which it did. From a utilitarian point of view, she did exactly the right thing. Morally most people would agree that she did great, as she was named Time’s Person of the year in 2002. Kantian Ethics seems to hold back on its praise, though. Since she only reported the issue internally, she might be okay even on Kantian ethical grounds, but KE’s strong sense of responsibility when it comes to contracts and promises makes it difficult to justify whistleblowing in many cases. Therefore, Utilitarianism is more useful than Kantian Ethics when it comes to deciding whether to blow the whistle.

Moreover, Kantian Ethics is not always clear on when it would support blowing the whistle. While supporters of Kantian Business Ethics like Norman E. Bowie tend to focus on Kant’s love for rules and duty, and praise it for its adherence for them, critics like Dennis G Arnold, Jeffrey Moriarty and Matthew C Altman question whether this application does justice to the true complexity of Kant’s thought. Kant prizes autonomy, which suggests that it would be difficult for a Kantian to sign a contract of employment at all, since they would promise to obey orders in return for money. In the case of Richard Roll, who testified in the inquiries on the British post office scandal, his whistleblowing seems to have been come from not wanting to deceive the media, which generally supports honesty. He had already left Fujitsu, which means that his secrecy contract was partially outbound. It seems though like Kantian Ethics would still struggle to support his actions because agreeing to whistleblowing would, by application of the categorical imperative, mean promoting people to break promises and since its generally considered to be wrong it cannot ever be right, not in any special situation. However, some Kantians argue that their ethics support whistleblowing when it stems from a duty to uphold truth and justice, even if it leads to personal or professional risk. Their argumentation though, while sound, seems to only make the discussion whether KE supports whistleblowing or not more arbitrary. In this way, Kantian Ethics does not offer clear guidance on issues such as whistleblowing.

Lastly, Utilitarianism can sometimes be impractical, because of the problem of prediction, but whistleblowing on principle still follows the principle of utility. For example, Paul Moore, who, before the 2008 financial crisis, as Head of Group Regulatory at HBOS warned that the bank’s aggressive sales culture was driving irresponsible lending practices. His whistleblowing didn’t stop the financial crisis from happening, he lost his job and although he later received a settlement of more than £500,000, he never worked in banking again. On first view, utilitarianism doesn’t support this. The suffering was greater than the happiness caused. In fact, expect for the consolation prize for Moore, nothing good really came out of it, but considerably, utilitarianism isn’t only concerned about short term utility. There are many utilitarians that enforce inherent values or higher pleasures in their utilitarian system, even if they cause short term suffering. A well-known example of this is John Stuart Mill, who often stressed that education is a higher pleasure. The general good that comes of it, is more important than the short-term discomfort of students, who have to study. Like this, whistleblowing supports honesty and justice, which are inherent values that many people argue for as being sound. The problem of prediction is negligible in the case of whistleblowing, as rule utilitarianism would support it even if it didn’t have immediate beneficial effects. One might argue that this line of argumentation then is really close to KE. It definitely highlights the strengths of KE, that Bowie maintains, but Kant seemed not have Business Ethics in mind when he argued for his system. In this way, all the Kantian Business Ethics approaches result from other scholar trying to apply Kant’s principles, which, although well thought, largely differ in the case of whistleblowing, like was mentioned earlier. Therefore, Utilitarianism is more useful than Kantian Ethics when it comes to deciding whether to blow the whistle.

In conclusion, utilitarianism, more precisely rule utilitarianism, is more useful than Kantian Ethics when it comes to deciding whether to blow the whistle. Whistleblowing supports values like honesty and transparency, which stem from the principle of utility. Therefore, rule utilitarianism is the best approach because it automatically supports whistleblowers in their attempt to make the world a better place and might lead to more legal protections for those employees in the future.