A Theory of Justice by John Rawls
Part one, chapter one. Theory: Justice as Fairness.
Here we go. John Rawls’ ‘A Theory of Justice’ - that six hundred page tome which supposedly reinvigorated political theory during the 1970s. I’m not sure what they were drinking back then, but so far this book feels more like a camomile tea than a shot of espresso; it’s nice, but hardly invigorating. Then again, political theorists are not the most excitable people.
Ok, so what’s so important about A Theory of Justice and why am I writing about it? In a nutshell, John Rawls demonstrates - successfully or unsuccessfully, depending on your view - that a rights-based social contract approach to political and ethical theory is more rational than utilitarianism or intuitionism. Utilitarianism had hitherto dominated ethical theory, which was politically significant because utilitarians do not recognise human rights. Rights are an illusion at best, a useful fiction that helps society realise its actual goal: the maximisation of utility.
Those who maintained that there is something inherently inviolable about human dignity, an idea expressed neatly by the concept of natural human rights, had to rely either on religious arguments, antiquated social contract theories, or a priori metaphysics. Hardly the stuff that commanded respect in increasingly empirical social science departments.
Enter John Rawls. By way of his theoretical construct “the original position”, Rawls shows that free and equal persons behind a “veil of ignorance” would rationally assent to his rights-based conception of justice, which he labels “justice as fairness”.
But before we get there, what exactly is justice? An answer stretching back to Plato’s Republic is that justice is giving people what they are due. In a similar fashion, Rawls contends that justice is concerned with fairly distributing society’s benefits and burdens. Particular principles of justice help determine what differences are morally relevant when deciding upon the distributive structure of society. If you are born disabled, should you live in poverty and die young? If you are born to rich parents, do you deserve to inherent the keys to the kingdom and run society like your own personal hedge fund? Probably not. That would be unjust.
Can this assertion of injustice be more than mere instinct? Can we ground it substantially in a political-cum-ethical theory? Rawls thinks we can. He asks us to imagine ourselves in “the original position”, by which he means a position of original equality before the advantages and disadvantages of society exert their distorting influence. Interlocutors in the original position are equally rational and concerned with furthering their own interests. However, no one in the original position knows what place they will occupy in society. They could be rich or poor, male of female, ethic minority or majority, disabled or able-bodied, and so on. Rawls calls this a “veil of ignorance”. Reasoning from the original position, hidden behind a veil of ignorance, our imagined interlocutors are supposed to agree upon a set of principles that will structure the distribution of society’s benefits and burdens. Any conception of justice determined in this position will be fair, argues Rawls, because it was decided upon by free and equal persons.
Now, Rawls may be American, but he is not an idiot. Of course the original position is entirely fictitious. The point is that we are supposed to plausibly imagine people in the original position agreeing to the principles of justice that Rawls outlines and defends. If we can reasonably imagine that people in the original position would agree to such principles then we have a conception of justice that is fair because it was (hypothetically) determined by free and equal persons behind a veil of ignorance.
The principles Rawls thinks would be reached in the original position are:
Each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive total system of equal basic liberties compatible with a similar system of liberty for all.
Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are both:
to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged, consistent with the just savings principle, and
attached to offices and positions open to all under conditions of fair equality and opportunity.1
Basically, we are to have as much freedom as possible until this freedom starts to limit the freedom of others. My freedom to swing my fist ends where your nose begins. Furthermore, any inequalities which exist in society can only be justified if they benefit the least well off. The positions in society which generate these inequalities, such as highly paid jobs, must be “open to all under conditions of fair equality and opportunity”. Someone born poor should have an equal opportunity to become Prime Minister or President as someone born rich.
Rawls thinks that this is a more rational conception of justice than utilitarianism because it is not clear why someone in an original position would agree to set society’s goal as the maximisation of utility even if this meant that some people would be worse off. Moreover, it preserves our intuition that people are morally equal. There is a complex interplay between our preexisting intuitions and the rationality of a fully articulated politico-ethical theory. Rawls doesn’t think we should just jettison our intuitions in favour of a cold-hearted rational theory, that’s what utilitarians do. Nor does Rawls think that moral and political deliberation should be an arbitrary weighing up of competing intuitions with no clear hierarchy of principle.
We need to strike a middle-ground between ‘pure reason’ (so to speak) and intuition. What matters when considering the viability of a theory of justice are our considered judgements. Considered judgements are deliberations made under conditions where we are not unduly influenced by factors that may impair our rationality, such as emotions or external duress. If the principles of a theory of justice align with our intuitive sense of justice after considered judgement, we have good reason to accept the theory. It would be even better, however, if we accept a theory of justice after reaching a “reflective equilibrium”.
Take your inbuilt, intuitive sense of justice. Perhaps you think that everyone has equal dignity in life. Great. Now imagine a moral theorist explains utilitarianism to you and justifies fully each one of its premises and arguments. You find that utilitarianism aligns with some of your intuitions but misaligns with others. What should you do? You can reject the theory or refine your intuitions - both are fine, but you should probably aim for the one with the least revisions possible. Now imagine another moral theorist comes along and explains a competing theory of justice to you. Now you have your intuitions, two theories of justice, and the revisions these theories induce you to make to your own intuitions. Any decision you make about which theory of justice is superior is going to be extremely considered and reflective. Hypothetically, imagine you have every existing moral theory in the world explained to you, and you are left with your resulting refined and considered moral intuitions. In this situation, what theory would you accept as most valid? Rawls regards this position, although never completely possible, as a reflective equilibrium. If a theory is chosen in reflective equilibrium it is extremely likely to be correct.
Rawls pulls no punches, he argues that his two principles of justice are the most likely to be accepted by our “considered judgements on reflection than [the] recognised alternatives”. Rawls’ conception of justice as fairness moves us closer to the “philosophical ideal” of a decision reached in perfect reflective equilibrium. It does not get us all the way there, but it gets us close. Or at least this is what Rawls spends 600 pages and three more books trying to argue. Have a great day.
John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Revised Edition (1999), page 266.