In this very fine book Timothy Chappell confronts a tension at the heart of moral philosophy: the tension between the systematic and the anti-systematic. As Chappell explains early on, the systematic approach emphasises generalizable patterns and favours comprehensive moral theories, whereas the anti-systematic approach emphasises the particularities of moral cases and so is suspicious of comprehensive moral theories.
In addressing this tension, it seems to this reader at least that Chappell has two principal related aims, the first of which is overarching and perhaps somewhat implicit and the second more explicit. In order to try to do justice to them, I will deal with them singly and then show how they are related. The first principal aim is to make a case in favour of the anti-systematic approach and against the systematic approach in moral philosophy.
I doubt, though, that Chappell succeeds in this. For starters, Chappell attributes to the systematising philosophers more than many of them would ever claim. Take, for example the following sentence: ‘If the systematicians are right and there is a formula for making right decisions, then the only thing that counts ethically speaking will be that, in practice, I should follow that rule or formula’ (p.16). First, many if not most philosophers write about procedures in decision-making, not formulas. Procedures suggest, to me at least, something more open-ended and possibly incomplete than formulas. Moreover, all but the most hard-line and reductionist systematicians would accept that the correct implementation of moral rules or procedures still requires at least some judgement, insight and imagination. Second, the word ‘only’ in the quoted sentence is problematic. Systematising philosophers need not always claim that their theories must provide both necessary and sufficient conditions for correct moral reasoning. They could, for example, make either a sufficiency or a necessity claim without making the other, thereby leaving open the possibility of other sources of practical normativity beyond those expressed by the rules or formulas or procedures of the theory. Such concessive positions are open to the systematician.
That said, Chappell's critique of the systematic approach is not without appreciable force. This becomes clear when it comes to what I think is the second principal aim of this book: to present and defend currently overlooked ideas that could enrich moral philosophy. Regarding the second principal aim, I think Chappell succeeds brilliantly. The discussion of these overlooked ideas takes up most of the book. To mention some examples, Chappell's discussion and advocacy of glory as an ethical idea (Chapter 7) is persuasive and insightful, as is his reframing of criticisms of consequentialism in terms of limited moral imagination (Chapter 2).
The argument connecting the two principal aims seems to be that examining such diverse ideas shows us ways forward to carry out practical reasoning that do not rely on systematised comprehensive moral theories. Moreover, if there are all these neglected ideas that are important to the moral life, then an obvious explanation of this neglect is that general comprehensive theories inevitably favour certain central ideas at the cost of the diversity of relevant ideas and approaches, thereby sidelining so much that is of moral relevance.
The systematician can, however, concede that the range and number of these overlooked ideas do indeed point to deficiencies in how modern moral philosophy is practised. Indeed, he could continue by thanking philosophers such as Chappell for helping the systematicians to arrive at better moral theories, theories that can incorporate overlooked ideas such as those that Chappell so ably defends.
To explore further this sort of move by the systematician, take Chappell's critique of the role of criteria for personhood (Chapter 6). As Chappell points out, a standard approach regarding personhood is to list criteria for personhood such as sentience, self-awareness, moral agency, the capacity to communicate and so on. If a human being satisfies these criteria at least to some extent, so the story goes, then he or she can be accorded the status of person and be treated accordingly.
But is that how we really behave towards our fellow human beings (except perhaps in very marginal cases)? Moreover, is that how we would want to behave towards our fellow human beings (except perhaps in very marginal cases)? Like Chappell, I am very much inclined to answer ‘no’ to both questions, and agree that in reality the properties referred to by criterialists are in practice less criteria for personhood than ‘dimensions of interpretation of beings that we already take to be persons’ (p.136, emphasis not added).
Chappell supports this anti-criterialist line by furnishing examples, a standard anti-systematic move, of course. He gets us to consider an example from Nick Hornby's novel, A Long Way Down, about Maureen, whose son, Matty, is severely mentally disabled. Maureen does not delude herself about her son, but as he gets older she buys things for him that a non-disabled boy of Matty's age might typically have and does things with Matty that she would have done with him had he not been disabled. According to strict criterialism, Maureen's behaviour seems irrational since, let us assume for present purposes, Matty is unable to appreciate what Maureen is doing for him. Yet I suspect that many of us will have the strong intuition that there is something deeply correct in what Maureen does, that it is not fundamentally irrational and is worthy of endorsement after reflection. It could be argued that even if Maureen's behaviour does not fit into, say, moral schemes such as consequentialist calculations or a deontological system of duties, it does help give meaning to her life as a mother who loves her son, who wishes to uphold his dignity as a human being for whom things could have been very different, a consideration that is morally relevant for Maureen.
With the central role of criteria rejected, a key tool of the systematician is also rejected and so the systematician might appear weakened. But the systematician could still press, say, consequentialist and deontological claims in the face of examples such as that of Maureen and Matty. After all, contemporary systematicians are a generally sophisticated bunch and are used to addressing examples that are difficult for their theories. But there is perhaps a more general move open to the systematician here. Maureen's response to her son could be a way whereby her motivational set (her commitments, values, desires, wants, goals etc.) comes to light or is at least clarified. Even if she is unable to articulate a sophisticated account of why she has the motivational set she has, she could still endorse it because it forms an important part of her self-understanding and her reasons for living. And so the systematician could venture a response to the anti-systematician by admitting the credibility and value of examples such as those of Maureen and Matty, and then propose in systematising fashion a means by which Maureen's actions could be explained and justified with reference to their coherence and consistency with her motivational set.
Whether such moves convince or not is a matter for another forum. My point is simply that the systematician can provide a variety of replies, not least because concessive versions of both general systematic and anti-systematic positions are difficult to overcome. At the very least, though, accounts of the moral life put forward by philosophers such as Chappell help ensure that the systematician is kept on his toes. Moreover, both the systematician and the anti-systematician can be grateful to Chappell for providing subtle discussions of overlooked topics in moral philosophy, for highly illuminating examples and for much brilliant analysis.
