Rawl’s “fairness principle

Rawls

How do you, using ethical language, define Justice? What standard must be met to achieve it?
Rawls uses a “fairness principle” to consider how to distribute social goods, in an attempt to create a society based on equitable access to the social contract. Is it possible to distribute power in this way?

Speech Sounds

What role does language play in establishing and maintaining ethics in a social contract? Do you think this society in the story is post apocalyptic primarily because they can’t speak?
Does any ethical obligation exist external to the perception of the characters in the story?

Speech Sounds—1
Speech Sounds
Octavia E. Butler
There was trouble aboard the Washington Boulevard bus. Rye had expected
trouble sooner or later in her journey. She had put off going until loneliness and
hopelessness drove her out. She believed she might have one group of relatives
left alive—a brother and his two children twenty miles away in Pasadena. That
was a day’s journey one-way, if she were lucky. The unexpected arrival of the
bus as she left her Virginia Road home had seemed to be a piece of luck—until
the trouble began.
Two young men were involved in a disagreement of some kind, or, more likely, a
misunderstanding. They stood in the aisle, grunting and gesturing at each other,
each in his own uncertain T stance as the bus lurched over the potholes. The
driver seemed to be putting some effort into keeping them off balance. Still, their
gestures stopped just short of contact—mock punches, hand games of
intimidation to replace lost curses.
People watched the pair, then looked at one another and made small anxious
sounds. Two children whimpered.
Rye sat a few feet behind the disputants and across from the back door. She
watched the two carefully, knowing the fight would begin when someone’s nerve
broke or someone’s hand slipped or someone came to the end of his limited
ability to communicate. These things could happen anytime.
One of them happened as the bus hit an especially large pothole and one man,
tall, thin, and sneering, was thrown into his shorter opponent.
Instantly, the shorter man drove his left fist into the disintegrating sneer. He
hammered his larger opponent as though he neither had nor needed any weapon
other than his left fist. He hit quickly enough, hard enough to batter his opponent
down before the taller man could regain his balance or hit back even once.
People screamed or squawked in fear. Those nearby scrambled to get out of the
way. Three more young men roared in excitement and gestured wildly. Then,
somehow, a second dispute broke out between two of these three—probably
because one inadvertently touched or hit the other.
As the second fight scattered frightened passengers, a woman shook the driver’s
shoulder and grunted as she gestured toward the fighting.
The driver grunted back through bared teeth. Frightened, the woman drew away.
Speech Sounds—2
Rye, knowing the methods of bus drivers, braced herself and held on to the
crossbar of the seat in front of her. When the driver hit the brakes, she was ready
and the combatants were not. They fell over seats and onto screaming
passengers, creating even more confusion. At least one more fight started.
The instant the bus came to a full stop, Rye was on her feet, pushing the back
door. At the second push, it opened and she jumped out, holding her pack in one
arm. Several other passengers followed, but some stayed on the bus. Buses
were so rare and irregular now, people rode when they could, no matter what.
There might not be another bus today—or tomorrow. People started walking, and
if they saw a bus they flagged it down. People making intercity trips like Rye’s
from Los Angeles to Pasadena made plans to camp out, or risked seeking
shelter with locals who might rob or murder them.
The bus did not move, but Rye moved away from it. She intended to wait until the
trouble was over and get on again, but if there was shooting, she wanted the
protection of a tree. Thus, she was near the curb when a battered blue Ford on
the other side of the street made a U-turn and pulled up in front of the bus. Cars
were rare these days—as rare as a severe shortage of fuel and of relatively
unimpaired mechanics could make them. Cars that still ran were as likely to be
used as weapons as they were to serve as transportation. Thus, when the driver
of the Ford beckoned to Rye, she moved away warily. The driver got out—a big
man, young, neatly bearded with dark, thick hair. He wore a long overcoat and a
look of wariness that matched Rye’s. She stood several feet from him, waiting to
see what he would do. He looked at the bus, now rocking with the combat inside,
then at the small cluster of passengers who had gotten off. Finally he looked at
Rye again.
She returned his gaze, very much aware of the old forty-five automatic her jacket
concealed. She watched his hands.
He pointed with his left hand toward the bus. The dark-tinted windows prevented
him from seeing what was happening inside.
His use of the left hand interested Rye more than his obvious question. Lefthanded people tended to be less impaired, more reasonable and
comprehending, less driven by frustration, confusion, and anger.
She imitated his gesture, pointing toward the bus with her own left hand, then
punching the air with both fists.
The man took off his coat revealing a Los Angeles Police Department uniform
complete with baton and service revolver.
Rye took another step back from him. There was no more LAPD, no more any
large organization, governmental or private. There were neighborhood patrols
and armed individuals. That was all.
Speech Sounds—3
The man took something from his coat pocket, then threw the coat into the car.
Then he gestured Rye back, back, toward the rear of the bus. He had something
made of plastic; in his hand. Rye did not understand what he wanted until he
went to the rear door of the bus and beckoned her to stand there. She obeyed
mainly out of curiosity. Cop or not, maybe he could do something to stop the
stupid fighting.
He walked around the front of the bus, to the street side where the driver’s
window was open. There, she thought she saw him throw something into the
bus. She was still trying to peer through the tinted glass when people began
stumbling out the rear door, choking and weeping. Gas.
Rye caught an old woman who would have fallen, lifted two little children down
when they were in danger of being knocked down and trampled. She could see
the bearded man helping people at the front door. She caught a thin old man
shoved out by one of the combatants. Staggered by the old man’s weight, she
was barely able to get out of the way as the last of the young men pushed his
way out. This one, bleeding from nose and mouth, stumbled into another, and
they grappled blindly, still sobbing from the gas.
The bearded man helped the bus driver out through the front door, though the
driver did not seem to appreciate his help. For a moment, Rye thought there
would be another fight. The bearded man stepped back and watched the driver
gesture threateningly, watched him shout in wordless anger.
The bearded man stood still, made no sound, refused to respond to clearly
obscene gestures. The least impaired people tended to do this—stand back
unless they were physically threatened and let those with less control scream
and jump around. It was as though they felt it beneath them to be as touchy as
the less comprehending. This was an attitude of superiority, and that was the
way people like the bus driver perceived it. Such “superiority” was frequently
punished by beatings, even by death. Rye had had close calls of her own. As a
result, she never went unarmed. And in this world where the only likely common
language was body language, being armed was often enough. She had rarely
had to draw her gun or even display it.
The bearded man’s revolver was on constant display. Apparently that was
enough for the bus driver. The driver spat in disgust, glared at the bearded man
for a moment longer, then strode back to his gas-filled bus. He stared at it for a
moment, clearly wanting to get in, but the gas was still too strong. Of the
windows, only his tiny driver’s window actually opened. The front door was open,
but the rear door would not stay open unless someone held it. Of course, the air
conditioning had failed long ago. The bus would take some time to clear. It was
the driver’s property, his livelihood. He had pasted old magazine pictures of items
he would accept as fare on its sides. Then he would use what he collected to
feed his family or to trade. If his bus did not run, he did not eat. On the other
hand, if the inside of his bus was torn apart by senseless fighting, he would not
Speech Sounds—4
eat very well either. He was apparently unable to perceive this. All he could see
was that it would be some time before he could use his bus again. He shook his
fist at the bearded man and shouted. There seemed to be words in his shout, but
Rye could not understand them. She did not know whether this was his fault or
hers. She had heard so little coherent human speech for the past three years,
she was no longer certain how well she recognized it, no longer certain of the
degree of her own impairment.
The bearded man sighed. He glanced toward his car, then beckoned to Rye. He
was ready to leave, but he wanted something from her first. No. No, he wanted
her to leave with him. Risk getting into his car when, in spite of his uniform, law
and order were nothing—not even words any longer.
She shook her head in a universally understood negative, but the man continued
to beckon.
She waved him away. He was doing what the less impaired rarely did—drawing
potentially negative attention to another of his kind. People from the bus had
begun to took at her.
One of the men who had been fighting tapped another on the arm, then pointed
from the bearded man to. Rye, and finally held up the first two fingers of his right
hand as though giving two-thirds of a Boy Scout salute. The gesture was very
quick, its meaning obvious even at a distance. She had been grouped with the
bearded man. Now what?
The man who had made the gesture started toward her.
She had no idea what he intended, but she stood her ground. The man was half
a foot taller than she was and perhaps ten years younger. She did not imagine
she could outrun him. Nor did she expect anyone to help her if she needed help.
The people around her were all strangers.
She gestured once—a clear indication to the man to stop. She did not intend to
repeat the gesture. Fortunately, the man obeyed. He gestured obscenely and
several other men laughed. Loss of verbal language had spawned a whole new
set of obscene gestures. The man, with stark simplicity, had accused her of sex
with the bearded man and had suggested she accommodate the other men
present—beginning with him.
Rye watched him wearily. People might very well stand by and watch if he tried
to rape her. They would also stand and watch her shoot him. Would he push
things that far?
He did not. After a series of obscene gestures that brought him no closer to her,
he turned contemptuously and walked away.
Speech Sounds—5
And the bearded man still waited. He had removed his service revolver, holster
and all. He beckoned again, both hands empty. No doubt his gun was in the car
and within easy reach, but his taking it off impressed her. Maybe he was all right.
Maybe he was just alone. She had been alone herself for three years. The illness
had stripped her, killing her children one by one, killing her husband, her sister,
her parents. . . . .
The illness, if it was an illness, had cut even the living off from one another. As it
swept over the country, people hardly had time to lay blame on the Soviets
(though they were falling silent along with the rest of the world), on a new virus, a
new pollutant, radiation, divine retribution. . . . The illness was stroke-swift in the
way it cut people down and strokelike in some of its effects. But it was highly
specific. Language was always lost or severely impaired. It was never regained.
Often there was also paralysis, intellectual impairment, death.
Rye walked toward the bearded man, ignoring the whistling and applauding of
two of the young men and their thumbs-up signs to the bearded man. If he had
smiled at them or acknowledged them in any way, she would almost certainly
have changed her mind. If she had let herself think of the possible deadly
consequences of getting into a stranger’s car, she would have changed her mind.
Instead, she thought of the man who lived across the street from her. He rarely
washed since his bout with the illness. And he had gotten into the habit of
urinating wherever he happened to be. He had two women already—one tending
each of his large gardens. They put up with him in exchange for his protection.
He had made it clear that he wanted Rye to become his third woman.
She got into the car and the bearded man shut the door. She watched as he
walked around to the driver’s door—watched for his sake because his gun was
on the seat beside her. And the bus driver and a pair of young men had come a
few steps closer. They did nothing, though, until the bearded man was in the car.
Then one of them threw a rock. Others followed his example, and as the car
drove away, several rocks bounced off harmlessly.
When the bus was some distance behind them, Rye wiped sweat from her
forehead and longed to relax. The bus would have taken her more than halfway
to Pasadena. She would have had only ten miles to walk. She wondered how far
she would have to walk now—and wondered if walking a long distance would be
her only problem.
At Figuroa and Washington where the bus normally made a left turn, the bearded
man stopped, looked at her, and indicated that she should choose a direction.
When she directed him left and he actually turned left, she began to relax. If he
was willing to go where she directed, perhaps he was safe.
As they passed blocks of burned, abandoned buildings, empty lots, and wrecked
or stripped cars, he slipped a gold chain over his head and handed it to her. The
pendant attached to it was a smooth, glassy, black rock. Obsidian. His name
Speech Sounds—6
might be Rock or Peter or Black, but she decided to think of him as Obsidian.
Even her sometimes useless memory would retain a name like Obsidian.
She handed him her own name symbol—a pin in the shape of a large golden
stalk of wheat. She had bought it long before the illness and the silence began.
Now she wore it, thinking it was as close as she was likely to come to Rye.
People like Obsidian who had not known her before probably thought of her as
Wheat. Not that it mattered. She would never hear her name spoken again.
Obsidian handed her pin back to her. He caught her hand as she reached for it
and rubbed his thumb over her calluses.
He stopped at First Street and asked which way again. Then, after turning right
as she had indicated, he parked near the Music Center. There, he took a folded
paper from the dashboard and unfolded it. Rye recognized it as a street map,
though the writing on it meant nothing to her. He flattened the map, took her
hand again, and put her index finger on one spot. He touched her, touched
himself, pointed toward the floor. In effect, “We are here.” She knew he wanted to
know where she was going. She wanted to tell him, but she shook her head
sadly. She had lost reading and writing. That was her most serious impairment
and her most painful. She had taught history at UCLA. She had done freelance
writing. Now she could not even read her own manuscripts. She had a houseful
of books that she could neither read nor bring herself to use as fuel. And she had
a memory that would not bring back to her much of what she had read before.
She stared at the map, trying to calculate. She had been born in Pasadena, had
lived for fifteen years in Los Angeles. Now she was near L.A. Civic Center. She
knew the relative positions of the two cities, knew streets, directions, even knew
to stay away from freeways, which might be blocked by wrecked cars and
destroyed overpasses. She ought to know how to point out Pasadena even
though she could not recognize the word.
Hesitantly, she placed her hand over a pale orange patch in the upper right
corner of the map. That should be right. Pasadena.
Obsidian lifted her hand and looked under it, then folded the map and put it back
on the dashboard. He could read, she realized belatedly. He could probably
write, too. Abruptly, she hated him—deep, bitter hatred. What did literacy mean
to him—a grown man who played cops and robbers? But he was literate and she
was not. She never would be. She felt sick to her stomach with hatred,
frustration, and jealousy. And only a few inches from her hand was a loaded gun.
She held herself still, staring at him, almost seeing his blood. But her rage
crested and ebbed and she did nothing.
Obsidian reached for her hand with hesitant familiarity.’ She looked at him. Her
face had already revealed too much. No person still living in what was left of
human society could fail to recognize that expression, that jealousy.
Speech Sounds—7
She closed her eyes wearily, drew a deep breath. She had experienced longing
for the past, hatred of the present, growing hopelessness, purposelessness, but
she had never experienced such a powerful urge to kill another person. She had
left her home, finally, because she had come near to killing herself She had
found no reason to stay alive. Perhaps that was why she had gotten into
Obsidian’s car. She had never before done such a thing.
He touched her mouth and made chatter motions with thumb and fingers. Could
she speak?
She nodded and watched his milder envy come and go. Now both had admitted
what it was not safe to admit, and there had been no violence. He tapped his
mouth and forehead and shook his head. He did not speak or comprehend
spoken language. The illness had played with them, taking away, she suspected,
what each valued most.
She plucked at his sleeve, wondering why he had decided on his own to keep the
LAPD alive with what he had left. He was sane enough otherwise. Why wasn’t he
at home raising corn, rabbits, and children? But she did not know how to ask.
Then he put his hand on her thigh and she had another question to deal with.
She shook her head. Disease, pregnancy, helpless, solitary agony . . . no.
He massaged her thigh gently and smiled in obvious disbelief.
No one had touched her for three years. She had not wanted anyone to touch
her. What kind of world was this to chance bringing a child into even if the father
were willing to stay and help raise it? It was too bad, though. Obsidian could not
know how attractive he was to her—young, probably younger than she was,
clean, asking for what he wanted rather than demanding it. But none of that
mattered. What were a few moments of pleasure measured against a lifetime of
consequences?
He pulled her closer to him and for a moment she let herself enjoy the closeness.
He smelled good—male and good. She pulled away reluctantly.
He sighed, reached toward the glove compartment. She stiffened, not knowing
what to expect, but all he took out was a small box. The writing on it meant
nothing to her. She did not understand until he broke the seal, opened the box,
and took out a condom. He looked at her, and she first looked away in surprise.
Then she giggled. She could not remember when she had last giggled.
He grinned, gestured toward the backseat, and she laughed aloud. Even in her
teens, she had disliked backseats of cars. But she looked around at the empty
streets and ruined buildings, then she got out and into the backseat. He let her
put the condom on him, then seemed surprised at her eagerness.
Speech Sounds—8
Sometime later, they sat together, covered by his coat, unwilling to become
clothed near strangers again just yet. He made rock-the-baby gestures and
looked questioningly at her.
She swallowed, shook her head. She did not know how to tell him her children
were dead.
He took her hand and drew a cross in it with his index finger, then made his
baby-rocking gesture again.
She nodded, held up three fingers, then turned away, trying to shut out a sudden
flood of memories. She had told herself that the children growing up now were to
be pitied. They would run through the downtown canyons with no real memory of
what the buildings had been or even how they had come to be. Today’s children
gathered books as well as wood to be burned as fuel. They ran through the
streets chasing one another and hooting like chimpanzees. They had no future.
They were now all they would ever be.
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned suddenly, fumbling for his small
box, then urging him to make love to her again. He could give her forgetfulness
and pleasure. Until now, nothing had been able to do that. Until now, every day
had brought her closer to the time when she would do what she had left home to
avoid doing: putting her gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger.
She asked Obsidian if he would come home with her, stay with her.
He looked surprised and pleased once he understood. But he did not answer at
once. Finally, he shook his head as she had feared he might. He was probably
having too much fun playing cops and robbers and picking up women.
She dressed in silent disappointment, unable to feel any anger toward him.
Perhaps he already had a wife and a home. That was likely. The illness had been
harder on men than on women—had killed more men, had left male survivors
more severely impaired. Men like Obsidian were rare. Women either settled for
less or stayed alone. If they found an Obsidian, they did what they could to keep
him. Rye suspected he had someone younger, prettier keeping him.
He touched her while she was strapping her gun on and asked with a
complicated series of gestures whether it was loaded.
She nodded grimly.
He patted her arm.
She asked once more if he would come home with her, this time using a different
series of gestures. He had seemed hesitant. Perhaps he could be courted.
He got out and into the front seat without responding.
Speech Sounds—9
She took her place in front again, watching him. Now he plucked at his uniform
and looked at her. She thought she was being asked something but did not know
what it was.
He took off his badge, tapped it with one finger, then tapped his chest. Of course.
She took the badge from his hand and pinned her wheat stalk to it. If playing
cops and robbers was his only insanity, let him play. She would take him, uniform
and all. It occurred to her that she might eventually lose him to someone he
would meet as he had met her. But she would have him for a while.
He took the street map down again, tapped it, pointed vaguely northeast toward
Pasadena, then looked at her.
She shrugged, tapped his shoulder, then her own, and held up her index and
second fingers tight together, just to be sure.
He grasped the two fingers and nodded. He was. with her.
She took the map from him and threw it onto the dashboard. She pointed back
southwest—back toward home. Now she did not have to go to Pasadena. Now
she could go on having a brother there and two nephews—three right-handed
males. Now she did not have to find out for certain whether she was as alone as
she feared. Now she was not alone.
Obsidian took Hill Street south, then Washington west, and she leaned back,
wondering what it would be like to have someone again. With what she had
scavenged, what she had preserved, and what she grew, there was easily
enough food for them. There was certainly room enough in a four-bedroom
house. He could move his possessions in. Best of all, the animal across the
street would pull back and possibly not force her to kill him.
Obsidian had drawn her closer to him, and she had put her head on his shoulder
when suddenly he braked hard, almost throwing her off the seat. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw that someone had run across the street in front of the
car. One car on the street and someone had to run in front of it.
Straightening up, Rye saw that the runner was a woman, fleeing from an old
frame house to a boarded-up storefront. She ran silently, but the man who
followed her a moment later shouted what sounded like garbled words as he ran.
He had something in his hand. Not a gun. A knife, perhaps.
The woman tried a door, found it locked, looked around desperately, finally
snatched up a fragment of glass broken from the storefront window. With this she
turned to face her pursuer. Rye thought she would be more likely to cut her own
hand than to hurt anyone else with the glass.
Speech Sounds—10
Obsidian jumped from the car, shouting. It was the first time Rye had heard his
voice—deep and hoarse from disuse. He made the same sound over and over
the way some speechless people did, “Da, da, da!”
Rye got out of the car as Obsidian ran toward the couple. He had drawn his gun.
Fearful, she drew her own and released the safety. She looked around to see
who else might be attracted to the scene. She saw the man glance at Obsidian,
then suddenly lunge at the woman. The woman jabbed his face with her glass,
but he caught her arm and managed to stab her twice before Obsidian shot him.
The man doubled, then toppled, clutching his abdomen. Obsidian shouted, then
gestured Rye over to help the woman.
Rye moved to the woman’s side, remembering that she had little more than
bandages and antiseptic in her pack. But the woman was beyond help. She had
been stabbed with a long, slender boning knife.
She touched Obsidian to let him know the woman was dead. He had bent to
check the wounded man who lay still and also seemed dead. But as Obsidian
looked around to see what Rye wanted, the man opened his eyes. Face
contorted, he seized Obsidian’s just-holstered revolver and fired. The bullet
caught Obsidian in the temple and he collapsed.
It happened just that simply, just that fast. An instant later, Rye shot the wounded
man as he was turning the gun on her.
And Rye was alone—with three corpses.
She knelt beside Obsidian, dry-eyed, frowning, trying to understand why
everything had suddenly changed. Obsidian was gone. He had died and left
her—like everyone else.
Two very small children came out of the house from which the man and woman
had run—a boy and girl perhaps three years old. Holding hands, they crossed
the street toward Rye. They stared at her, then edged past her and went to the
dead woman. The girl shook the woman’s arm as though trying to wake her.
This was too much. Rye got up, feeling sick to her stomach with grief and anger.
If the children began to cry, she thought she would vomit.
They were on their own, those two kids. They were old enough to scavenge. She
did not need any more grief. She did not need a stranger’s children who would
grow up to be hairless chimps.
She went back to the car. She could drive home, at least. She remembered how
to drive.
Speech Sounds—11
The thought that Obsidian should be buried occurred to her before she reached
the car, and she did vomit.
She had found and lost the man so quickly. It was as though she had been
snatched from comfort and security and given a sudden, inexplicable beating.
Her head would not clear. She could not think.
Somehow, she made herself go back to him, look at him. She found herself on
her knees beside him with no memory of having knelt. She stroked his face, his
beard. One of the children made a noise and she looked at them, at the woman
who was probably their mother. The children looked back at her, obviously
frightened. Perhaps it was their fear that reached her finally.
She had been about to drive away and leave them. She had almost done it,
almost left two toddlers to die. Surely there had been enough dying. She would
have to take the children home with her. She would not be able to live with any
other decision. She looked around for a place to bury three bodies. Or two. She
wondered if the murderer were the children’s father. Before the silence, the
police had always said some of the most dangerous calls they went out on were
domestic disturbance calls. Obsidian should have known that—not that the
knowledge would have kept him in the car. It would not have held her back
either. She could not have watched the woman murdered and done nothing.
She dragged Obsidian toward the car. She had nothing to dig with her, and no
one to guard for her while she dug. Better to take the bodies with her and bury
them next to her husband and her children. Obsidian would come home with her
after all.
When she had gotten him onto the floor in the back, she returned for the woman.
The little girl, thin, dirty, solemn, stood up and unknowingly gave Rye a gift. As
Rye began to drag the woman by her arms, the little girl screamed, “No!”
Rye dropped the woman and stared at the girl.
“No!” the girl repeated. She came to stand beside the woman. “Go away!” she
told Rye.
“Don’t talk,” the little boy said to her. There was no blurring or confusing of
sounds. Both children had spoken and Rye had understood. The boy looked at
the dead murderer and moved further from him. He took the girl’s hand. “Be
quiet,” he whispered.
Fluent speech! Had the woman died because she could talk and had taught her
children to talk? Had she been killed by a husband’s festering anger or by a
stranger’s jealous rage? And the children . . . they must have been born after the
silence. Had the disease run its course, then? Or were these children simply
immune? Certainly they had had time to fall sick and silent. Rye’s mind leaped
Speech Sounds—12
ahead. What if children of three or fewer years were safe and able to learn
language? What if all they needed were teachers? Teachers and protectors.
Rye glanced at the dead murderer. To her shame, she thought she could
understand some of the passions that must have driven him, whomever he was.
Anger, frustration, hopelessness, insane jealousy . . . how many more of him
were there—people willing to destroy what they could not have?
Obsidian had been the protector, had chosen that role for who knew what
reason. Perhaps putting on an obsolete uniform and patrolling the empty streets
had been what he did instead of putting a gun into his mouth. And now that there
was something worth protecting, he was gone.
She had been a teacher. A good one. She had been a protector, too, though only
of herself. She had kept herself alive when she had no reason to live. If the
illness let these children alone, she could keep them alive.
Somehow she lifted the dead woman into her arms and placed her on the
backseat of the car. The children began to cry, but she knelt on the broken
pavement and whispered to them, fearful of frightening them with the harshness
of her long unused voice.
“It’s all right,” she told them. “You’re going with us, too. Come on.” She lifted
them both, one in each arm. They were so light. Had they been getting enough to
eat?
The boy covered her mouth with his hand, but she moved her face away. “It’s all
right for me to talk,” she told him. “As long as no one’s around, it’s all right.” She
put the boy down on the front seat of the car and he moved over without being
told to, to make room for the girl. When they were both in the car, Rye leaned
against the window, looking at them, seeing that they were less afraid now, that
they watched her with at least as much curiosity as fear.
“I’m Valerie Rye,” she said, savoring the words. “It’s all right for you to talk to
me.”
Afterword
“Speech Sounds” was conceived in weariness, depression, and sorrow. I began
the story feeling little hope or liking for the human species, but by the time I
reached the end of it, my hope had come back. It always seems to do that.
Here’s the story behind “Speech Sounds.”
Speech Sounds—13
In the early 1980s, a good friend of mine discovered that she was dying of
multiple myeloma, an especially dangerous, painful form of cancer. I had lost
elderly relatives and family friends to death before this, but I had never lost a
personal friend. I had never watched a relatively young person die slowly and
painfully of disease. It took my friend a year to die, and I got into the habit of
visiting her every Saturday and taking along the latest chapter of the novel I was
working on. This happened to be Clay’s Ark. With its story of disease and death,
it was thoroughly inappropriate for the situation. But my friend had always read
my novels. She insisted that she wanted to read this one as well. I suspect that
neither of us believed she would live to read it in its completed form—although, of
course, we didn’t talk about this.
I hated going to see her. She was a good person, I loved her, and I hated
watching her die. Nevertheless, every Saturday I got on a bus—I don’t drive—
and went to her hospital room or her apartment. She got thinner and frailer and
querulous with pain. I got more depressed.
One Saturday, as I sat on a crowded, smelly bus, trying to keep people from
stepping on my ingrown toenail and trying not to think of terrible things, I noticed
trouble brewing just across from me. One man had decided he didn’t like the way
another man was looking at him. Didn’t like it at all! It’s hard to know where to
look when you’re wedged in place on a crowded bus.
The wedged-in man argued that he hadn’t done anything wrong—which he
hadn’t. He inched toward the exit as though he meant to get himself out of a
potentially bad situation. Then he turned and edged back into the argument.
Maybe his own pride was involved. Why the hell should he be the one to run
away?
This time the other guy decided that it was his girlfriend—sitting next to him—
who was being looked at inappropriately. He attacked.
The fight was short and bloody. The rest of us—the other passengers—ducked
and yelled and tried to avoid being hit. In the end, the attacker and his girlfriend
pushed their way off the bus, fearful that the driver would call the police. And the
guy with the pride sagged, dazed and bloody, looking around as though he
wasn’t sure what had happened.
I sat where I was, more depressed than ever, hating the whole hopeless, stupid
business and wondering whether the human species would ever grow up enough
to learn to communicate without using fists of one kind or another.
And the first line of a possible story came to me: “There was trouble aboard the
Washington Boulevard bus.”

Justice as Fairness: Political not Metaphysical

Author(s): John Rawls
Source: Philosophy and Public Affairs, Vol. 14, No. 3, (Summer, 1985), pp. 223-251
Published by: Formerly published by Princeton University Press
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JOHNRAWLS Justiceas Fairness:
Politicalnot
Metaphysical
In this discussion I shall make some generalremarksabouthow I now
understandthe conception of justice that I have called “justiceas fairness” (presented in my book A Theory of Justice)., I do this because it
may seem that this conceptiondependson philosophicalclaims I should
like to avoid,for example, claims to universaltruth,or claims aboutthe
essential natureandidentityof persons. Myaimis to explainwhy it does
not. I shall first discuss what I regardas the task of politicalphilosophy
at the present time and then brieflysurveyhow the basicintuitiveideas
drawnuponin justice as fairnessarecombinedintoa politicalconception
of justice for a constitutionaldemocracy.Doing this will bring out how
andwhy this conceptionofjustice avoidscertainphilosophicalandmetaphysicalclaims. Briefly,the ideais thatin a constitutionaldemocracythe
publicconceptionofjustice should be, so faras possible,independentof
controversialphilosophicaland religious doctrines. Thus, to formulate
such a conception,we applythe principleof tolerationtophilosophyitself:
the publicconceptionofjustice is tobe political,notmetaphysical.Hence
the title.
I want to put aside the questionwhetherthe text ofA TheoryofJustice
supportsdifferent readings than the one I sketch here. Certainlyon a
Beginningin Novemberof I983, differentversionsof this paperwerepresentedat New
YorkUniversity,the Yale Law School LegalTheoryWorkshop,the Universityof Illinois,
and the Universityof Californiaat Davis. I am gratefulto many people for clarifying
numerouspoints and for raisinginstructivedifficulties;the paperis much changed as a
result.In particular,I amindebtedtoArnoldDavidson,B.J. Diggs,CatherineElgin,Owen
Fiss, StephenHolmes,NorbertHornstein,ThomasNagel,GeorgePriest,andDavidSachs;
andespeciallyto BurtonDrebenwhohas been ofverygreathelp throughout.Indebtedness
to otherson particularpointsis indicatedin the footnotes.
i. Cambridge,MA:HarvardUniversityPress, I97I.
224 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
numberof pointsI have changed my views, andthereareno doubtothers
on which my views have changed in ways that I am unaware of.2 J
recognize furtherthat certainfaults of expositionas well as obscureand
ambiguouspassages in A TheoryofJustice invitemisunderstanding;but
I think these matters need not concern us and I shan’t pursue them
beyonda few footnoteindications.Forourpurposeshere, it suffices first,
to show how a conception of justice with the structure and content of
justice as fairness can be understoodas politicaland not metaphysical,
andsecond, toexplainwhy we shouldlookforsuch aconceptionofjustice
in a democraticsociety.
I
One thing I failed to say in A Theoryof Justice, or failed to stress sufficiently, is thatjustice as fairness is intended as a politicalconception of
justice. While a politicalconception of justice is, of course, a moralconception,it is a moralconceptionworkedout fora specifickindof subject,
namely,forpolitical,social, and economicinstitutions.In particular,justice as fairness is framedto applyto what I have called the “basicstructure”of a modern constitutionaldemocracy.3(I shall use “constitutional
2. Anumberof these changes, orshiftsof emphasis,areevidentin threelecturesentitled
“KantianConstructivismin MoralTheory,”Journal of Philosophy77 (SeptemberI980).
Forexample,the accountof what I have called”primarygoods”is revisedso thatit clearly
dependson a particularconceptionof personsand theirhigher-orderinterests;hence this
accountis not a purelypsychological,sociological,orhistoricalthesis. See pp. 526f. There
is also throughoutthose lectures a more explicit emphasison the role of a conceptionof
thepersonas well as on theideathatthejustificationof a conceptionofjusticeis apractical
social task ratherthan an epistemologicalor metaphysicalproblem.See pp. 5I8f. Andin
this connection the idea of “Kantianconstructivism”is introduced,especiallyin the third
lecture.Itmust benoted,however,thatthisideais notproposedas Kant’sidea:theadjective
“Kantian”indicates analogynot identity,thatis, resemblancein enough fundamentalrespectsso thatthe adjectiveis appropriate. Thesefundamentalrespectsarecertainstructural
featuresofjustice as fairnessand elements of its content,such as the distinctionbetween
what may be called the Reasonableand the Rational,the priorityof right, and the role of
the conception of the persons as free and equal, and capableof autonomy,and so on.
Resemblancesof structuralfeaturesand content arenot to be mistakenforresemblances
with Kant’sviews on questionsof epistemologyandmetaphysics.Finally,I shouldremark
thatthe titleof thoselectures, “KantianConstructivismin MoralTheory,”was misleading;
since the conceptionofjustice discussedis a politicalconception,a bettertitlewouldhave
been “KantianConstructivismin PoliticalPhilosophy.”Whetherconstructivismis reasonableformoralphilosophyis a separateand more generalquestion.
3. Theory,Sec. 2, andsee the index;see also”TheBasicStructureas Subject,”in Values
and Morals,eds. AlvinGoldmanandJaegwonKim(Dordrecht:Reidel, I978), pp. 47-7I.
225 Justice as Fairness
democracy”and “democraticregime,”and similarphrases interchangeably.)By this structureI mean such a society’smain political,social,and
economic institutions, and how they fit togetherinto one unified system
of social cooperation.Whetherjustice as fairness can be extended to a
generalpoliticalconceptionfordifferentkindsof societies existing under
differenthistoricaland social conditions,or whether it can be extended
to a generalmoralconception,ora significantpartthereof,arealtogether
separatequestions. I avoidprejudgingthese largerquestions one way or
the other.
It should also be stressed thatjustice as fairnessis not intended as the
applicationof a generalmoralconceptionto the basicstructureof society,
as if this structurewere simplyanothercase to which that generalmoral
conception is applied.4In this respect justice as fairness differs from
traditionalmoraldoctrines,forthese arewidelyregardedas such general
conceptions. Utilitarianismis a familiarexample, since the principleof
utility, however it is formulated,is usually said to hold for all kinds of
subjects ranging from the actions of individuals to the law of nations.
The essential pointis this: as a practicalpoliticalmatterno generalmoral
conception can providea publicly recognized basis for a conception of
justice in a moderndemocraticstate.The socialandhistoricalconditions
of such a state have their origins in the Wars of Religion following the
Reformationand the subsequent developmentof the principleof toleration,andin the growthof constitutionalgovernmentandthe institutions
of large industrialmarketeconomies. These conditionsprofoundlyaffect
the requirements of a workableconception of politicaljustice: such a
conception must allow for a diversityof doctrines and the pluralityof
conflicting, and indeed incommensurable, conceptions of the good affirmedby the members of existing democraticsocieties.
Finally, to conclude these introductoryremarks,since justice as fairness is intended as a political conception of justice for a democratic
society,it triestodrawsolelyuponbasicintuitiveideas thatareembedded
in the politicalinstitutions of a constitutionaldemocraticregime and the
public traditionsof their interpretation.Justice as fairness is a political
conception in partbecause it startsfrom within a certainpoliticaltradition. We hope that this political conception of justice may at least be
supportedby what we may call an “overlappingconsensus,” that is, by
a consensus that includes all the opposing philosophicaland religious
4. See “BasicStructureas Subject,”ibid.,pp. 48-50.
226 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
doctrines likely to persist and to gain adherents in a more or less just
constitutionaldemocraticsociety.5
II
There are, of course, many ways in which politicalphilosophymay be
understood,and writers at differenttimes, faced with differentpolitical
and social circumstances, understandtheir work differently.Justice as
fairness I would now understandas a reasonablysystematic and practicableconceptionofjustice fora constitutionaldemocracy,a conception
that offers an alternativeto the dominantutilitarianismof our tradition
ofpoliticalthought.Itsfirsttaskis toprovideamoresecureandacceptable
basis for constitutionalprinciplesand basic rights andlibertiesthan utilitarianismseems to allow.6The need forsuch a politicalconceptionarises
in the following way.
There areperiods,sometimeslong periods,in the historyof any society
during which certain fundamental questions give rise to sharp and divisive political controversy,and it seems difficult, if not impossible, to
find any shared basis of political agreement. Indeed, certain questions
mayproveintractableandmayneverbe fully settled.One taskof political
philosophyin a democraticsociety is to focus on such questions and to
examine whether some underlyingbasis of agreementcan be uncovered
and a mutually acceptableway of resolving these questions publiclyestablished. Or if these questions cannot be fully settled, as may well be
the case, perhapsthe divergenceof opinioncan be narrowedsufficiently
so that political cooperationon a basis of mutual respect can still be
maintained.7
5. This idea was introducedin Theory,pp. 387f., as a way to weakenthe conditionsfor
the reasonablenessof civildisobediencein a nearlyjust democraticsociety.Hereandlater
in Secs. VI and VIIit is used in a widercontext.
6. Theory, Preface, p. viii.
7. Ibid.,pp. 582f. On the role of a conceptionof justice in reducing the divergenceof
opinion,see pp. 44f., 53, 3I4, and 564. Atvariousplaces the limitedaims in developinga
conceptionof justice are noted: see p. 364 on not expecting too much of an account of
civil disobedience;pp. 200f. on the inevitableindeterminacyof a conceptionof justice in
specifyinga series of points of view fromwhich questions of justice can be resolved;pp.
89f. on the socialwisdomof recognizingthatperhapsonlya few moralproblems(it would
have been betterto say:problemsof politicaljustice) can be satisfactorilysettled,andthus
of framinginstitutionsso thatintractablequestionsdo not arise;on pp.53, 87ff., 320f. the
need to accept simplificationsis emphasized.Regardingthe last point, see also “Kantian
Constructivism,”pp. 560-64.
227 Justice as Fairness
The course of democratic thought over the past two centuries or so
makes plain that there is no agreement on the way basic institutions of
a constitutionaldemocracyshould be arrangedif they are to specify and
secure the basic rights and libertiesof citizens and answer to the claims
of democratic equality when citizens are conceived as free and equal
persons (as explainedin the last threeparagraphsof Section III). A deep
disagreementexists as to how the values of libertyand equalityare best
realized in the basic structure of society. To simplify,we may think of
this disagreementas a conflictwithin the traditionofdemocraticthought
itself, between the traditionassociatedwith Locke, which gives greater
weight to what Constant called “theliberties of the moderns,”freedom
of thought and conscience, certain basic rights of the person and of
property,and the rule of law, and the traditionassociatedwith Rousseau,
which gives greaterweight to what Constantcalled “thelibertiesof the
ancients,”the equal politicalliberties and the values of public life. This
is a stylizedcontrastandhistoricallyinaccurate,butit serves to fix ideas.
Justice as fairness tries to adjudicatebetween these contending traditions first, by proposingtwo principlesof justice to serve as guidelines
forhow basic institutions are to realizethe values of libertyand equality,
and second, by specifying a point of view from which these principles
can be seen as more appropriatethan otherfamiliarprinciplesof justice
to the nature of democratic citizens viewed as free and equal persons.
What it means to view citizens as free and equal personsis, of course, a
fundamental question and is discussed in the following sections. What
must be shown is that a certain arrangement of the basic structure,
certaininstitutionalforms, are more appropriateforrealizing the values
of libertyand equalitywhen citizens are conceived as such persons, that
is (very briefly),as having the requisitepowersof moralpersonalitythat
enablethem toparticipatein societyviewedas a systemoffaircooperation
formutual advantage.So to continue, the twoprinciplesofjustice (mentioned above) read as follows:
i. Each personhas an equalright to a fully adequatescheme of equal
basicrights andliberties,which scheme is compatiblewith a similar
scheme for all.
2. Social and economic inequalitiesare to satisfytwo conditions:first,
they must be attached to offices and positions open to all under
conditionsof fairequalityof opportunity;and second, they must be
to the greatest benefit of the least advantagedmembers of society.
228 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
Each of these principlesappliesto a differentpartof the basic structure;
and both are concerned not only with basic rights, liberties,and opportunities, but also with the claims of equality;while the second part of
the second principle underwritesthe worth of these institutionalguarantees.8The two principlestogether,when the firstis given priorityover
the second, regulate the basic institutions which realize these values.9
But these details, although important,are not our concern here.
We must now ask: how might politicalphilosophyfind a sharedbasis
for settling such a fundamentalquestion as that of the most appropriate
institutionalformsforlibertyand equality?Of course, it is likely that the
most that can be done is to narrowthe range of publicdisagreement.Yet
even firmlyheld convictionsgraduallychange: religioustolerationis now
accepted,and argumentsforpersecutionareno longeropenlyprofessed;
similarly,slaveryis rejected as inherentlyunjust, andhowevermuch the
aftermathof slaverymay persist in social practices and unavowed attitudes, no one is willing to defend it. We collect such settled convictions
as the belief in religious tolerationand the rejectionof slaveryand tryto
organize the basic ideas and principlesimplicitin these convictionsinto
a coherent conception of justice. We can regard these convictions as
provisionalfixed points which any conception of justice must account
for if it is to be reasonablefor us. We look, then, to our public political
cultureitself, including its main institutionsand the historicaltraditions
of their interpretation,as the sharedfund of implicitlyrecognized basic
ideas and principles.The hope is that these ideas and principlescan be
formulatedclearly enough to be combinedinto a conceptionof political
justice congenial to our most firmlyheld convictions.We express this by
saying that a politicalconception of justice, to be acceptable,must be in
accordancewith our consideredconvictions,at alllevels of generality,on
due reflection (or in what I have called “reflectiveequilibrium”).’0
The public politicalculture may be of two minds even at a very deep
8. The statement of these principlesdiffersfrom that given in Theoryand follows the
statementin “TheBasic LibertiesandTheirPriority,”TannerLectureson HumanValues,
Vol.III (Salt LakeCity:Universityof Utah Press, i982), p. 5. The reasonsforthe changes
are discussed at pp. 46-55 of that lecture. They are importantfor the revisionsmade in
the account of the basic libertiesfoundin Theoryin the attemptto answerthe objections
of H.L.A.Hart;but they need not concem us here.
9. The idea of the worthof these guarenteesis discussedibid.,pp. 40f.
io. Theory,pp. 20f., 48-51, and I20f.
229 Justice as Fairness
level. Indeed, this must be so with such an enduringcontroversyas that
concerning the most appropriateinstitutionalformsto realize the values
of libertyand equality.This suggests thatif we are to succeed in finding
abasisofpublicagreement,we must findanew wayoforganizingfamiliar
ideas andprinciplesinto a conceptionofpoliticaljustice so thatthe claims
in conflict,as previouslyunderstood,are seen in anotherlight. Apolitical
conception need not be an originalcreationbut may only articulatefamiliar intuitive ideas and principles so that they can be recognized as
fitting together in a somewhat different way than before. Such a conceptionmay,however,gofurtherthan this:it mayorganizethese familiar
ideas andprinciplesbymeans of amorefundamentalintuitiveideawithin
the complex structureof which the otherfamiliarintuitiveideas arethen
systematicallyconnected and related. In justice as fairness, as we shall
see in the next section, this more fundamentalidea is that of society as
a system of fair social cooperationbetween free and equal persons. The
concern of this section is how we might find a public basis of political
agreement. The point is that a conceptionof justice will only be able to
achieve this aim if it provides a reasonable way of shaping into one
coherent view the deeper bases of agreement embedded in the public
political culture of a constitutional regime and acceptable to its most
firmlyheld consideredconvictions.
Now supposejustice as fairnesswere to achieve its aim and a publicly
acceptablepoliticalconception of justice is found. Then this conception
providesa publiclyrecognized point of view fromwhich all citizens can
examine before one another whether or not their political and social
institutions are just. It enables them to do this by citing what are recognized among them as valid and sufficient reasons singled out by that
conception itself. Society’s main institutions and how they fit together
into one scheme of socialcooperationcan be examinedon the same basis
by each citizen, whateverthat citizen’s socialpositionormoreparticular
interests. It should be observed that, on this view, justification is not
regarded simply as valid argument from listed premises, even should
these premises be true. Rather,justificationis addressedto others who
disagree with us, and thereforeit must alwaysproceedfrom some consensus, that is, from premises that we and others publiclyrecognize as
true; or better,publiclyrecognize as acceptableto us for the purposeof
establishing a working agreement on the fundamentalquestions of political justice. It goes without saying that this agreement must be in
230 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
formedand uncoerced, and reached by citizens in ways consistent with
their being viewed as free and equal persons.”
Thus, the aimofjustice as fairnessas a politicalconceptionis practical,
and not metaphysicalor epistemological.Thatis, it presents itself not as
a conception of justice that is true, but one that can serve as a basis of
informedand willing politicalagreementbetween citizens viewed as free
and equal persons. This agreement when securely founded in public
politicaland social attitudes sustains the goods of all persons and associations within a just democraticregime. To secure this agreement we
try,so far as we can, to avoiddisputedphilosophical,as well as disputed
moraland religious, questions. We do this not because these questions
are unimportantor regardedwith indifference,12 but because we think
them too importantand recognize that there is no way to resolve them
politically.The onlyalternativeto a principleof tolerationis the autocratic
use of state power. Thus, justice as fairness deliberatelystays on the
surface,philosophicallyspeaking.Giventheprofounddifferencesin belief
and conceptions of the good at least since the Reformation,we must
recognizethat,just as on questionsofreligiousandmoraldoctrine,public
agreementon the basic questions of philosophycannotbe obtainedwithout the state’s infringement of basic liberties. Philosophyas the search
for truth about an independent metaphysicaland moralordercannot, I
believe, providea workableand sharedbasis for a politicalconceptionof
justice in a democraticsociety.
We try,then, to leave aside philosophicalcontroversieswhenever possible, and look for ways to avoid philosophy’slongstanding problems.
Thus, in what I have called “Kantianconstructivism,”we tryto avoidthe
problemof truth and the controversybetween realism and subjectivism
aboutthe status of moralandpoliticalvalues. This formof constructivism
neither asserts nor denies these doctrines.13Rather,it recasts ideas from
the traditionof the social contractto achieve a practicableconceptionof
objectivityand justification founded on public agreement in judgment
on due reflection.The aimis free agreement,reconciliationthroughpublic reason. And similarly,as we shall see (in Section V), a conceptionof
the person in a politicalview, for example, the conceptionof citizens as
i i. Ibid.,pp. 580-83.
I2. Ibid.,pp. 2I4f.
I3. On Kantianconstructivism,see especiallythe thirdlecturereferredto in footnote2
above.
23I Justice as Fairness
free and equal persons, need not involve, so I believe, questions of philosophicalpsychologyor a metaphysicaldoctrineof the natureof the self.
No politicalview thatdependson these deep and unresolvedmatterscan
serveas apublicconceptionofjustice in a constitutionaldemocraticstate.
As I have said, we must applythe principleof tolerationto philosophy
itself. The hope is that, by this methodof avoidance,as we might call it,
existing differences between contending politicalviews can at least be
moderated,even if not entirelyremoved,so thatsocialcooperationon the
basis of mutual respect can be maintained.Or if this is expecting too
much, this method may enable us to conceive how, given a desire for
free and uncoerced agreement, a public understandingcould arise consistent with the historicalconditionsand constraintsof our social world.
Until we bring ourselves to conceive how this could happen, it can’t
happen.
III
Let’s now survey brieflysome of the basic ideas thatmake up justice as
fairnessin orderto show that these ideas belong to a politicalconception
of justice. As I have indicated, the overarchingfundamentalintuitive
idea, within which other basic intuitive ideas are systematicallyconnected, is thatof society as a fairsystem of cooperationbetweenfree and
equalpersons.Justice as fairness startsfromthis idea as one of the basic
intuitive ideas which we take to be implicit in the public culture of a
democratic society.14 In their political thought, and in the context of
public discussion of politicalquestions, citizens do not view the social
orderas a fixed natural order,or as an institutionalhierarchyjustified
byreligiousor aristocraticvalues. Hereit is importantto stress thatfrom
other points of view, for example, from the point of view of personal
morality,or from the point of view of members of an association,or of
one’s religiousorphilosophicaldoctrine,variousaspectsof the worldand
one’s relation to it, may be regardedin a differentway. But these other
points of view are not to be introducedinto politicaldiscussion.
We can make the idea of social cooperationmore specific by noting
three of its elements:
I4. AlthoughTheoryuses this ideafromthe outset(it is introducedon p. 4), it does not
emphasize,as I do here andin “KantianConstructivism,”thatthe basicideasofjustice as
faimess areregardedas implicitor latentin the publiccultureof a democraticsociety.
232 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
i. Cooperationis distinctfrommerelysociallycoordinatedactivity,for
example,fromactivitycoordinatedbyordersissued by some central
authority.Cooperationis guided by publiclyrecognized rules and
procedureswhich those who are cooperatingaccept and regardas
properlyregulating their conduct.
2. Cooperationinvolves the idea of fairtermsof cooperation:these are
terms that each participantmay reasonablyaccept, providedthat
everyoneelse likewise acceptsthem. Fairtermsofcooperationspecify an idea of reciprocityor mutuality:all who are engaged in cooperationandwho do theirpartas the rules andproceduresrequire,
are to benefit in some appropriateway as assessed by a suitable
benchmark of comparison.A conception of politicaljustice characterizes the fair terms of social cooperation.Since the primary
subject of justice is the basic structure of society, this is accomplished in justice as fairness by formulatingprinciplesthat specify
basic rights and duties within the main institutionsof society, and
by regulating the institutions of backgroundjustice over time so
that the benefits producedby everyone’seffortsare fairlyacquired
and dividedfrom one generationto the next.
3. The idea of social cooperationrequiresan idea of each participant’s
rationaladvantage,or good.This idea of good specifies what those
who are engaged in cooperation,whether individuals,families, or
associations,or even nation-states,are tryingto achieve, when the
scheme is viewed from their own standpoint.
Now consider the idea of the person.15There are, of course, many
aspects of human naturethat can be singled out as especiallysignificant
depending on our point of view. This is witnessed by such expressions
as homopoliticus, homooeconomicus,homofaber, and the like. Justice
as fairness starts from the idea that society is to be conceived as a fair
I5. It shouldbe emphasizedthat a conceptionof the person,as I understandit here, is
a normativeconception,whetherlegal, political,or moral,or indeed also philosophicalor
religious,dependingon the overallview to which it belongs. In this case the conception
ofthe personis amoralconception,onethatbeginsfromoureverydayconceptionofpersons
as the basic units of thought, deliberationand responsibility,and adaptedto a political
conceptionof justice and not to a comprehensivemoraldoctrine.It is in effect a political
conceptionof the person,andgiventhe aimsofjustice as fairness,a conceptionof citizens.
Thus, a conceptionof the personis to be distinguishedfroman accountof human nature
given by naturalscience or socialtheory.On this point,see “KantianConstructivism,”pp.
534f.
233 Justice as Fairness
system of cooperationand so it adoptsa conceptionof the person to go
with thisidea. Since Greektimes,bothin philosophyandlaw, the concept
of the person has been understoodas the concept of someone who can
takepartin, orwho can playa rolein, sociallife, and hence exercise and
respect its variousrights andduties. Thus, we say that a personis someone who can be a citizen, that is, a fully cooperatingmemberof society
over a complete life. We add the phrase “overa completelife”because
a societyis viewed as a moreorless completeand self-sufficientscheme
of cooperation,making roomwithin itself for all the necessities and activities of life, from birth until death. A society is not an associationfor
more limited purposes; citizens do not join society voluntarilybut are
borninto it, where, for our aims here, we assume they are to lead their
lives.
Since we startwithin the traditionofdemocraticthought,we alsothink
of citizens as free and equal persons. The basic intuitiveidea is that in
virtueof what we may call theirmoralpowers,and the powersof reason,
thought,andjudgment connectedwith thosepowers,we saythatpersons
arefree.Andin virtueof theirhavingthese powerstothe requisitedegree
to be fully cooperating members of society, we say that persons are
equal.’6 We can elaboratethis conceptionof the personas follows.Since
persons can be full participantsin a fairsystem of socialcooperation,we
ascribe to them the two moralpowers connected with the elements in
the idea of socialcooperationnoted above:namely,a capacityfora sense
of justice and a capacityfor a conceptionof the good.A sense of justice
is the capacityto understand,to apply,and to act from the public conceptionofjustice which characterizesthe fairtermsof socialcooperation.
The capacityfora conceptionof the goodis the capacitytoform,torevise,
andrationallytopursue a conceptionof one’srationaladvantage,orgood.
In the case of social cooperation,this goodmust not be understoodnarrowlybut ratheras a conceptionof what is valuablein human life. Thus,
a conceptionof the goodnormallyconsists of a moreorless determinate
scheme of final ends, thatis, ends we want to realizefortheirown sake,
as well as of attachmentsto otherpersonsandloyaltiesto variousgroups
and associations.These attachmentsand loyalties give rise to affections
and devotions, and thereforethe flourishingof the persons and associations who are the objects of these sentiments is also part of our coni6. Theory,Sec. 77.
234 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
ceptionof the good.Moreover,we must alsoincludein such a conception
a view of our relationto the world-religious, philosophical,or moralbyreference to which the value and significanceof ourends and attachments are understood.
In additionto having the two moralpowers, the capacitiesfor a sense
of justice and a conception of the good,persons also have at any given
time a particularconception of the good that they try to achieve. Since
we wish to startfrom the idea of society as a fair system of cooperation,
we assume that persons as citizens have all the capacities that enable
them to be normaland fully cooperatingmembers of society. This does
not imply that no one ever suffersfromillness or accident;such misfortunes are to be expected in the ordinarycourse of human life; and provision for these contingencies must be made. But forour purposeshere
I leave asidepermanentphysicaldisabilitiesormentaldisordersso severe
as to preventpersons frombeing normaland fully cooperatingmembers
of society in the usual sense.
Now the conception of persons as having the two moralpowers, and
thereforeas free and equal, is also a basic intuitive idea assumed to be
implicitin the publiccultureof a democraticsociety.Note, however,that
it is formed by idealizing and simplifyingin variousways. This is done
to achieve a clearandunclutteredview of whatforus is the fundamental
question of politicaljustice: namely, what is the most appropriateconception of justice for specifying the terms of social cooperationbetween
citizens regarded as free and equal persons, and as normal and fully
cooperatingmembers of society over a completelife. It is this question
thathas been the focus of the liberalcritiqueof aristocracy,of the socialist
critiqueof liberalconstitutionaldemocracy,and of the conflict between
liberalsand conservativesat the present time over the claims of private
propertyand the legitimacy (in contrast to the effectiveness) of social
policies associatedwith the so-calledwelfarestate.
IV
I now take up the idea of the originalposition.’7This idea is introduced
in order to work out which traditionalconception of justice, or which
variantof one of those conceptions, specifies the most appropriateprin-
17. Ibid., Sec. 4, Ch. 3, and the index.
235 Justice as Fairness
ciples forrealizinglibertyand equalityonce societyis viewed as a system
of cooperationbetween free and equal persons. Assuming we had this
purposein mind,let’s see why we wouldintroducethe ideaof the original
position and how it serves its purpose.
Consideragain the idea of social cooperation.Let’s ask: how are the
fairtermsof cooperationto be determined?Arethey simplylaiddown by
some outside agency distinctfromthe personscooperating?Arethey, for
example, laid down by God’slaw? Or are these terms to be recognized
by these persons as fair by reference to their knowledge of a priorand
independentmoralorder?Forexample, are they regardedas requiredby
naturallaw, or by a realm of values known by rationalintuition?Or are
these terms to be established by an undertakingamong these persons
themselves in the light of what they regardas their mutual advantage?
Depending on which answer we give, we get a differentconception of
cooperation.
Since justice as fairness recasts the doctrineof the social contract,it
adoptsa formof the last answer: the fairterms of social cooperationare
conceived as agreed to by those engaged in it, that is, by free and equal
persons as citizens who are borninto the societyin which they lead their
lives. But their agreement, like any other valid agreement,must be entered into under appropriateconditions. In particular,these conditions
must situate free and equal persons fairlyand must not allowsome persons greaterbargainingadvantagesthan others.Further,threatsof force
and coercion,deception and fraud,and so on, must be excluded.
So farso good.The foregoingconsiderationsarefamiliarfromeveryday
life. Butagreementsin everydaylife aremadein somemoreorless clearly
specified situation embedded within the backgroundinstitutions of the
basic structure.Ourtask, however,is to extend the idea of agreementto
this backgroundframeworkitself. Here we face a difficultyfor any politicalconceptionofjustice thatuses the ideaof a contract,whethersocial
or otherwise. The difficulty is this: we must find some point of view,
removed from and not distortedby the particularfeatures and circumstances of the all-encompassing backgroundframework,from which a
fair agreement between free and equal persons can be reached. The
originalposition, with the feature I have called “theveil of ignorance,”
is this point of view.”8And the reason why the originalposition must
i8. On the veil of ignorance,see ibid., Sec. 24, and the index.
236 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
abstractfromandnot be affectedby the contingenciesof the socialworld
is that the conditions for a fair agreement on the principlesof political
justice between free and equal persons must eliminate the bargaining
advantageswhich inevitablyarise within backgroundinstitutionsof any
society as the result of cumulative social, historical,and natural tendencies. These contingent advantagesand accidentalinfluences fromthe
past should not influence an agreement on the principleswhich are to
regulatethe institutionsof the basic structureitself fromthe presentinto
the future.
Here we seem to face a second difficulty, which is, however, only
apparent.To explain: from what we have just said it is clear that the
originalposition is to be seen as a device of representationand hence
any agreement reached by the parties must be regardedas both hypotheticalandnonhistorical.Butif so, since hypotheticalagreementscannot
bind, what is the significance of the originalposition?I9The answer is
ig. This questionis raisedby RonaldDworkinin the firstpartof his veryilluminating,
andtome highlyinstructive,essay “JusticeandRights”(I973), reprintedin TakingRights
Seriously (Cambridge,MA:HarvardUniversityPress, I977). Dworkinconsidersseveral
waysof explainingthe use of the originalpositionin an accountofjustice thatinvokesthe
idea of the socialcontract.In the last partof the essay (pp. I73-83), afterhavingsurveyed
some of the constructivistfeaturesofjustice as fairness(pp. I59-68) andarguedthatit is
a right-basedandnot a duty-basedora goal-basedview (pp. I68-77), he proposesthatthe
originalpositionwith the veil of ignorancebe seen as modelingthe force of the natural
right that individualshave to equal concern and respect in the design of the political
institutionsthat governthem (p. i8o). He thinksthatthis naturalrightlies as the basisof
justiceasfairnessandthattheoriginalpositionservesasadevicefortestingwhichprinciples
of justice this rightrequires.This is an ingenious suggestionbut I have not followedit in
the text. I prefernot to thinkofjustice as fairnessas a right-basedview;indeed,Dworkin’s
classificationscheme of right-based,duty-basedand goal-basedviews (pp. I7If.) is too
narrowand leaves out importantpossibilities.Thus, as explainedin Sec. II above,I think
ofjustice asfairnessas workingup intoidealizedconceptionscertainfundamentalintuitive
ideas such as those of the person as free and equal, of a well-orderedsociety and of the
publicroleofa conceptionofpoliticaljustice, andasconnectingthesefundamentalintuitive
ideaswith the even morefundamentalandcomprehensiveintuitiveideaof societyas a fair
system of cooperationovertime fromone generationto the next. Rights,duties, and goals
are but elements of such idealizedconceptions.Thus, justice as fairnessis a conceptionbased, or as ElizabethAndersonhas suggested to me, an ideal-basedview, since these
fundamentalintuitiveideas reflectidealsimplicitorlatentin the publiccultureof a democraticsociety.In this contextthe originalpositionis a deviceofrepresentationthatmodels
theforce,notof the naturalrightofequalconcernandrespect,butoftheessentialelements
of these fundamentalintuitiveideas as identifiedby the reasonsfor principlesof justice
that we accept on due reflection.As such a device, it serves first to combineand then to
focus the resultantforce of all these reasonsin selecting the most appropriateprinciples
of justice for a democraticsociety. (In doing this the force of the naturalright of equal
237 Justice as Fairness
implicitin what has alreadybeen said:it is givenbythe roleof the various
features of the originalpositionas a device of representation.Thus, that
the parties are symmetricallysituated is requiredif they are to be seen
as representativesof free and equal citizens who are to reach an agreement under conditions that are fair. Moreover,one of our considered
convictions, I assume, is this: the fact that we occupy a particularsocial
positionis not a goodreasonforus to accept,ortoexpect othersto accept,
a conception of justice that favorsthose in this position.To model this
conviction in the original position the parties are not allowed to know
their social position;and the same idea is extended to other cases. This
is expressed figurativelyby saying that the parties are behind a veil of
ignorance. In sum, the originalpositionis simply a device of representation: it describes the parties, each of whom are responsible for the
essential interests of a free and equal person, as fairly situated and as
reaching an agreement subject to appropriaterestrictionson what are to
count as good reasons.20
Bothof the abovementioneddifficulties,then, areovercomebyviewing
the originalposition as a device of representation:that is, this position
modelswhat we regardas fairconditionsunderwhich the representatives
concernandrespectwill be coveredin otherways.)This accountof the use of the original
positionresembles in some respects an account Dworkinrejects in the first part of his
essay, especiallypp. I53f. In view of the ambiguityand obscurityof Theoryon many of
the points he considers,it is not my aim to criticize Dworkin’svaluablediscussion, but
ratherto indicate how my understandingof the originalpositiondiffersfromhis. Others
may preferhis account.
20. The originalpositionmodels a basic featureof Kantianconstructivism,namely,the
distinctionbetween the Reasonableand the Rational,with the Reasonableas priorto the
Rational.(For an explanationof this distinction,see “KantianConstructivism,”pp. 528-
32, and passim.) The relevanceof this distinctionhere is thatTheorymoreorless consistently speaks not of rationalbut of reasonable(or sometimes of fitting or appropriate)
conditionsas constraintson argumentsfor principlesof justice (see pp. i8f., 20f., I20f.,
I3of., I38, 446, 5i6f., 578, 584f.). These constraintsare modeledin the originalposition
and therebyimposedon the parties:theirdeliberationsaresubject,andsubjectabsolutely,
to the reasonableconditionsthe modelingof which makes the originalpositionfair. The
Reasonable,then, is priorto the Rational,and this gives the priorityof right.Thus, it was
an errorin Theory(and a verymisleadingone) to describea theoryofjustice as partof the
theoryofrationalchoice,as onpp. i6 and583. WhatIshouldhavesaidis thattheconception
of justice as fairnessuses an accountof rationalchoice subjecttoreasonableconditionsto
characterizethe deliberationsof the partiesas representivesof freeandequalpersons;and
all of this within a politicalconceptionof justice, which is, of course, a moralconception.
Thereis no thoughtof tryingto derivethe contentofjustice withina frameworkthatuses
an idea of the rationalas the sole normativeidea. That thoughtis incompatiblewith any
kind of Kantianview.
238 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
of free and equal persons are to specify the terms of social cooperation
in the case of the basic structure of society; and since it also models
what, forthis case, we regardas acceptablerestrictionson reasons available to the parties for favoringone agreement ratherthan another, the
conception of justice the parties would adoptidentifies the conception
we regard-here and now-as fair and supportedby the best reasons.
We try to model restrictionson reasons in such a way that it is perfectly
evident which agreement would be made by the partiesin the original
position as citizens’ representatives.Even if there should be, as surely
therewill be, reasonsforandagainsteach conceptionofjustice available,
theremaybe an overallbalanceofreasonsplainlyfavoringone conception
overthe rest. As a device of representationthe ideaof the originalposition
serves as a means of public reflectionand self-clarification.We can use
it to help us work out what we now think, once we are able to take a
clear and unclutteredview of what justice requireswhen societyis conceived as a scheme of cooperationbetween free and equal persons over
time from one generation to the next. The originalposition serves as a
unifying idea by which our considered convictions at all levels of generalityarebroughtto bearon one anotherso as to achieve greatermutual
agreement and self-understanding.
To conclude: we introduce an idea like that of the original position
because thereis no betterway toelaboratea politicalconceptionofjustice
for the basic structurefrom the fundamentalintuitiveidea of society as
a fair system of cooperationbetween citizens as free and equal persons.
There are, however, certain hazards. As a device of representationthe
originalposition is likely to seem somewhat abstractand hence open to
misunderstanding.The descriptionof the partiesmayseem topresuppose
some metaphysical conception of the person, for example, that the essential nature of persons is independent of and priorto their contingent
attributes,including their final ends and attachments,and indeed, their
characteras a whole. But this is an illusion caused by not seeing the
originalposition as a device of representation.The veil of ignorance, to
mention one prominent feature of that position, has no metaphysical
implicationsconcerning the natureof the self; it does not imply that the
self is ontologicallypriorto the facts about persons that the parties are
excluded from knowing. We can, as it were, enter this positionany time
simplyby reasoningforprinciplesofjustice in accordancewith the enu
239 Justice as Fairness
merated restrictions.When, in this way, we simulate being in this position, our reasoning no more commits us to a metaphysical doctrine
about the nature of the self than our playing a game like Monopoly
commits us to thinking that we are landlordsengaged in a desperate
rivalry,winner take all.21We must keep in mind that we are trying to
show how the idea of society as a fair system of social cooperationcan
be unfolded so as to specify the most appropriateprinciplesforrealizing
the institutions of libertyand equalitywhen citizens areregardedas free
and equal persons.
V
I just remarkedthat the idea of the originalpositionand the description
of the partiesmay tempt us to think that a metaphysicaldoctrineof the
person is presupposed.While I said that this interpretationis mistaken,
it is not enough simply to disavow reliance on metaphysicaldoctrines,
fordespite one’s intent they may still be involved.To rebutclaims of this
2I. Theory,pp. I38f., I47. The partiesin the originalpositionare said (p. I47) to be
theoreticallydefined individualswhose motivationsare specified by the account of that
positionand not by a psychologicalview abouthow human beings are actuallymotivated.
This is also partof what is meant by saying (p. I2I) that the acceptanceof the particular
principles of justice is not conjecturedas a psychologicallaw or probabilitybut rather
followsfromthefulldescriptionoftheoriginalposition.Althoughtheaimcannotbeperfectly
achieved,we want the argumentto be deductive,”akindof moralgeometry.”In “Kantian
Constructivism”(p. 532) the partiesare describedas merelyartificialagents who inhabit
a construction.Thus I think R. B. Brandtmistakenin objectingthat the argumentfrom
the originalpositionis based on defectivepsychology.See his A Theoryof the Goodand
theRight (Oxford:ClarendonPress, I979), pp. 239-42. Ofcourse,one mightobjectto the
originalposition that it models the conceptionof the person and the deliberationsof the
partiesin ways thatareunsuitableforthe purposesof a politicalconceptionofjustice; but
for these purposespsychologicaltheoryis not directlyrelevant.On the other hand, psychologicaltheoryis relevantfor the account of the stabilityof a conceptionof justice, as
discussed in Theory, Pt. III. See below, footnote 33. Similarly,I think Michael Sandel
mistakenin supposingthatthe originalpositioninvolvesa conceptionof the self “.. . shorn
ofallits contingently-givenattributes,”a self that”assumesakindofsupra-empirical status,
… and given priorto its ends, a pure subject of agency and possession,ultimatelythin.”
See Liberalismand theLimits ofJustice (Cambridge:CambridgeUniversityPress, I982),
pp.93-95. I cannotdiscuss these criticismsin anydetail.The essentialpoint(as suggested
in the introductoryremarks)is not whether certainpassages in Theorycall for such an
interpretation(I doubt that they do), but whether the conceptionof justice as fairness
presentedthereincan be understoodin the lightof theinterpretationI sketchin this article
and in the earlierlectures on constructivism,as I believeit can be.
240 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
naturerequiresdiscussing them in detailand showing that they have no
foothold. I cannot do that here.22
I can, however, sketch a positiveaccount of the politicalconceptionof
the person, that is, the conceptionof the person as citizen (discussed in
SectionIII),involvedin the originalpositionas a deviceofrepresentation.
To explain what is meant by describing a conception of the person as
political,let’s consider how citizens are representedin the originalposition as free persons. The representationof their freedomseems to be
one source of the idea that some metaphysicaldoctrineis presupposed.
I have said elsewhere that citizens view themselves as free in three
respects, so let’s survey each of these briefly and indicate the way in
which the conception of the person used is political.23
First, citizens are free in that they conceive of themselves and of one
anotheras having the moralpowerto have a conceptionof the good.This
is not to say that, as partof theirpoliticalconceptionof themselves, they
view themselves as inevitably tied to the pursuit of the particularcon-
22. Partof the difficultyis thatthereis no acceptedunderstandingofwhata metaphysical
doctrineis. One might say,as PaulHoffmanhas suggestedtome, thattodevelopa political
conceptionof justice without presupposing,or explicitlyusing, a metaphysicaldoctrine,
forexample,someparticularmetaphysicalconceptionoftheperson,is alreadytopresuppose
a metaphysicalthesis: namely,thatno particularmetaphysicaldoctrineis requiredforthis
purpose.One might also say thatoureverydayconceptionof personsas the basic units of
deliberationand responsibilitypresupposes,orin some wayinvolves,certainmetaphysical
theses about the nature of persons as moralor politicalagents. Followingthe methodof
avoidance,I should not want to deny these claims. Whatshouldbe saidis the following.
If we lookat the presentationof justice as fairnessand note how it is set up, and note the
ideas and conceptions it uses, no particularmetaphysicaldoctrineabout the nature of
persons,distinctiveand opposedto othermetaphysicaldoctrines,appearsamongits premises, or seems required by its argument. If metaphysicalpresuppositionsare involved,
perhapsthey are so generalthat they wouldnot distinguishbetween the distinctivemetaphysical views-Cartesian, Leibnizian,or Kantian;realist, idealist, or materialist-with
which philosophytraditionallyhas been concerned.In this case, they wouldnot appearto
be relevantforthe structureand contentof a politicalconceptionofjustice one wayorthe
other.I am gratefulto Daniel Brudneyand Paul Hoffmanfordiscussionof these matters.
23. For the first two respects, see “KantianConstructivism,”pp. 544f. (For the third
respect,see footnote26 below.)The accountofthe firsttworespectsfoundin thoselectures
is furtherdevelopedin the text aboveand I am more expliciton the distinctionbetween
what I call here our “public”versus our “nonpublicor moralidentity.”The point of the
term”moral”in the latterphraseis to indicatethatpersons’conceptionsof the (complete)
goodare normallyan essential element in characterizingtheirnonpublic(ornonpolitical)
identity, and these conceptions are understoodas normallycontainingimportantmoral
elements, although they include otherelements as well, philosophicaland religious.The
term”moral”shouldbe thoughtof as a stand-inforall these possibilities.I am indebtedto
ElizabethAndersonfor discussionand clarificationof this distinction.
241 Justice as Fairness
ception of the good which they affirm at any given time. Instead, as
citizens, they are regardedas capableof revisingand changing this conception on reasonableand rationalgrounds,and they may do this if they
so desire. Thus, as free persons, citizens claim the right to view their
persons as independent from and as not identified with any particular
conceptionof the good,or scheme of finalends. Giventheirmoralpower
to form,to revise, and rationallyto pursue a conceptionof the good,their
public identity as free persons is not affected by changes over time in
their conception of the good. For example, when citizens convert from
one religionto another,orno longer affirman establishedreligiousfaith,
they do not cease to be, forquestionsofpoliticaljustice, the same persons
theywere before.Thereis noloss ofwhatwe maycalltheirpublicidentity,
theiridentityas a matterof basiclaw. In general,they stillhave the same
basic rights and duties; they own the same propertyand can make the
same claims as before, except insofar as these claims were connected
with theirpreviousreligiousaffiliation.We can imaginea society(indeed,
historyoffersnumerous examples) in which basicrights and recognized
claims depend on religious affiliation,social class, and so on. Such a
society has a differentpoliticalconceptionof the person.It may not have
a conception of citizenship at all; for this conception,as we are using it,
goes with the conception of society as a fair system of cooperationfor
mutual advantagebetween free and equal persons.
It is essential to stress that citizens in their personalaffairs,or in the
internal life of associations to which they belong, may regardtheir final
ends and attachmentsin a way very differentfromthe way the political
conception involves. Citizens may have, and normallydo have at any
given time, affections, devotions, and loyalties that they believe they
would not, and indeed could and should not, stand apartfrom and objectively evaluate from the point of view of their purely rational good.
They may regardit as simplyunthinkableto view themselves apartfrom
certain religious, philosophical,and moral convictions, or from certain
enduring attachments and loyalties.These convictionsand attachments
arepartof what we may call their”nonpublicidentity.”These convictions
and attachments help to organize and give shape to a person’s way of
life, what one sees oneself as doing and trying to accomplish in one’s
social world.We think that if we were suddenlywithoutthese particular
convictionsandattachmentswe wouldbe disorientedandunabletocarry
on. In fact, there would be, we might think, no pointin carryingon. But
242 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
ourconceptionsof the goodmay and often do change overtime, usually
slowlybut sometimes rathersuddenly.When these changes are sudden,
we are particularlylikely to say that we are no longer the same person.
We know what this means: we refer to a profoundand pervasiveshift,
or reversal, in our final ends and character;we refer to our different
nonpublic, and possibly moralor religious, identity. On the roadto Damascus Saul of Tarsus becomes Paul the Apostle.Thereis no change in
ourpublicorpoliticalidentity,norin ourpersonalidentityas this concept
is understoodby some writersin the philosophyof mind.24
The second respect in which citizens view themselves as free is that
they regardthemselves as self-originatingsources of valid claims. They
think their claims have weight apartfrom being derivedfrom duties or
obligationsspecified by the politicalconception of justice, for example,
fromduties and obligationsowed to society. Claims that citizens regard
as founded on duties and obligationsbased on their conception of the
goodand the moraldoctrinethey affirmin theirown life are also,forour
purposeshere, to be counted as self-originating.Doing this is reasonable
in a political conception of julstice for a constitutionaldemocracy;for
providedthe conceptions of the good and the moral doctrines citizens
affirmare compatiblewith the public conceptionof justice, these duties
and obligationsare self-originatingfrom the politicalpoint of view.
When we describe a way in which citizens regardthemselves as free,
24. Here I assume thatan answerto the problemof personalidentitytriesto specifythe
variouscriteria(forexample,psychologicalcontinuityof memoriesandphysicalcontinuity
of body,orsome partthereof)in accordancewith which twodifferentpsychologicalstates,
or actions (or whatever),which occur at two differenttimes may be said to be states or
actions of the same person who endures over time; and it also tries to specify how this
enduringpersonis to be conceived,whether as a Cartesianor a Leibniziansubstance,or
as a Kantiantranscendentalego, oras a continuantof some otherkind,forexample,bodily
orphysical.See the collectionof essays editedbyJohn Perry,PersonalIdentity (Berkeley,
CA: Universityof CaliforniaPress, 1975), especiallyPerry’sintroduction,pp. 3-30; and
Sydney Shoemaker’sessay in PersonalIdentity (Oxford:Basil Blackwell,I984), both of
which considera number of views. Sometimesin discussions of this problem,continuity
of fundamentalaims and aspirationsis largelyignored,for example,in views like H. P.
Grice’s(includedin Perry’scollection)which emphasizescontinuityof memory.Ofcourse,
once continuityof fundamentalaims and aspirationsis broughtin, as in Derek Parfit’s
Reasonsand Persons(Oxford:ClarendonPress, I984), Pt. III,thereis no sharpdistinction
between the problemof persons’ nonpublic or moralidentity and the problemof their
personalidentity.This latterproblemraisesprofoundquestionson which past and current
philosophicalviews widely differ,and surely will continue to differ.For this reason it is
importantto try to developa politicalconceptionof justice which avoidsthis problemas
faras possible.
243 Justice as Fairness
we are describing how citizens actuallythink of themselves in a democratic society should questions of justice arise. In our conception of a
constitutionalregime, this is an aspectof how citizens regardthemselves.
That this aspect of their freedom belongs to a particularpolitical conception is clear from the contrastwith a differentpoliticalconceptionin
which the members of society are not viewed as self-originatingsources
of valid claims. Rather, their claims have no weight except insofar as
they can be derivedfrom their duties and obligationsowed to society, or
from their ascribedroles in the social hierarchyjustified by religious or
aristocraticvalues. Or to take an extreme case, slaves are human beings
who arenot counted as sources of claims,not even claimsbasedon social
duties or obligations, for slaves are not counted as capable of having
duties or obligations.Laws that prohibitthe abuse and maltreatmentof
slaves arenot foundedon claimsmade by slaves on theirown behalf,but
on claims originatingeither from slaveholders,or from the general interests of society (which does not include the interests of slaves). Slaves
are,so to speak,sociallydead:they arenot publiclyrecognizedas persons
at all.25Thus, the contrastwith apoliticalconceptionwhich allowsslavery
makes clear why conceiving of citizens as free personsin virtue of their
moral powers and their having a conception of the good, goes with a
particularpoliticalconception of the person.This conceptionof persons
fits into a political conception of justice founded on the idea of society
as a system of cooperationbetween its members conceived as free and
equal.
The third respect in which citizens are regardedas free is that they
are regardedas capable of taking responsibilityfor their ends and this
affects how theirvariousclaims are assessed.26Veryroughly,the idea is
that, givenjust backgroundinstitutionsand given foreach person a fair
index of primarygoods (as requiredby the principlesofjustice), citizens
are thought to be capable of adjusting their aims and aspirationsin the
light of what they can reasonablyexpect to providefor. Moreover,they
are regardedas capable of restricting their claims in matters of justice
25. Forthe idea of socialdeath, see OrlandoPatterson,Slaveryand SocialDeath(Cambridge,MA:HarvardUniversityPress, i982), esp. pp. 5-9, 38-45, 337. This ideais interestingly developedin this bookand has a centralplace in the author’scomparativestudy
of slavery.
26. See “SocialUnity and PrimaryGoods,”in Utilitarianismand Beyond,eds. Amartya
Sen and BernardWilliams(Cambridge:CambridgeUniversityPress, i982), Sec. IV,pp.
I67-70.
244 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
to the kinds of things the principlesof justice allow. Thus, citizens are
to recognize that the weight of their claims is not given by the strength
andpsychologicalintensityof theirwants anddesires(as opposedto their
needs and requirementsas citizens), even when theirwants and desires
arerationalfromtheirpointof view. I cannotpursue these mattershere.
But the procedureis the same as before:we startwith the basic intuitive
idea of society as a system of social cooperation.When this idea is developed into a conception of politicaljustice, it implies that, viewing
ourselvesas personswho can engage in socialcooperationovera complete
life, we can also take responsibilityfor our ends, that is, that we can
adjust our ends so that they can be pursued by the means we can reasonably expect to acquire given our prospects and situationin society.
The ideaof responsibilityforends is implicitin the publicpoliticalculture
and discernible in its practices. A politicalconception of the person articulates this idea and fits it into the idea of society as a system of social
cooperationover a complete life.
To sum up, I recapitulatethree main points of this and the preceding
two sections:
First, in Section III persons were regardedas free and equal in virtue
of their possessing to the requisite degree the two powersof moralpersonality (and the powers of reason, thought, and judgment connected
with these powers), namely, the capacityfor a sense of justice and the
capacityfor a conception of the good.These powers we associatedwith
two main elements of the idea of cooperation,the idea of fair terms of
cooperationand the idea of each participant’srationaladvantage,orgood.
Second, in this section (Section V), we have briefly surveyed three
respects in which persons are regardedas free, and we have noted that
in the public politicalculture of a constitutionaldemocraticregime citizens conceive of themselves as free in these respects.
Third, since the question of which conception of politicaljustice is
most appropriatefor realizing in basic institutions the values of liberty
and equality has long been deeply controversialwithin the very democratictraditionin which citizens areregardedas free and equal persons,
the aim of justice as fairness is to tryto resolve this question by starting
fromthe basicintuitiveideaof societyas afairsystemofsocialcooperation
in which the fairterms of cooperationare agreedupon by citizens themselves so conceived. In Section IV, we saw why this approachleads to
the idea of the originalposition as a device of representation.
245 Justice as Fairness
VI
I now take up a point essential to thinking of justice as fairness as a
liberalview. Althoughthis conceptionis a moralconception,it is not, as
I have said,intended as a comprehensivemoraldoctrine.The conception
of the citizen as a free and equal person is not a moralideal to govern
all of life, but is rather an ideal belonging to a conception of political
justice which is to apply to the basic structure. I emphasize this point
because to think otherwise would be incompatiblewith liberalismas a
politicaldoctrine.Recallthat as such a doctrine,liberalismassumes that
in a constitutionaldemocraticstate under modern conditions there are
boundto exist conflictingandincommensurableconceptionsof the good.
This feature characterizesmodern culture since the Reformation.Any
viable politicalconception of justice that is not to rely on the autocratic
use of statepowermust recognize this fundamentalsocialfact.This does
not mean, of course, that such a conception cannot impose constraints
onindividualsandassociations,butthatwhen it does so, these constraints
are accounted for, directlyor indirectly,by the requirementsof political
justice for the basic structure.27
Giventhis fact, we adopta conceptionof the personframedas partof,
andrestrictedto,an explicitlypoliticalconceptionofjustice. In this sense,
the conceptionof the personis apoliticalone. AsI stressedin the previous
section, persons can accept this conceptionof themselves as citizens and
use it when discussing questions of politicaljustice without being committed in other parts of their life to comprehensivemoral ideals often
associated with liberalism,for example, the ideals of autonomyand individuality.The absence of commitment to these ideals, and indeed to
anyparticularcomprehensiveideal,is essential toliberalismas a political
doctrine.The reason is that any such ideal, when pursuedas a comprehensive ideal, is incompatiblewith other conceptions of the good, with
forms of personal, moral, and religious life consistent with justice and
which, therefore,have a properplace in a democraticsociety. As com-
27. Forexample,churchesareconstrainedbythe principleof equallibertyof conscience
and must conformto the principleof toleration,universitiesby what may be requiredto
maintainfair equalityof opportunity,and the rights of parents by what is necessary to
maintaintheir childrens’physical well-beingand to assure the adequatedevelopmentof
theirintellectualand moralpowers.Because churches, universities,andparentsexercise
their authoritywithin the basic structure, they are to recognize the requirementsthis
structureimposes to maintainbackgroundjustice.
246 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
prehensive moralideals, autonomyand individualityare unsuited for a
political conception of justice. As found in Kant and J. S. Mill, these
comprehensive ideals, despite their very great importance in liberal
thought, are extended too far when presented as the only appropriate
foundationfor a constitutionalregime.28So understood,liberalismbecomes but anothersectariandoctrine.
This conclusion requirescomment: it does not mean, of course, that
the liberalismsof Kant and Mill are not appropriatemoralconceptions
fromwhich we can be led to affirmdemocraticinstitutions.But they are
only two such conceptions among others, and so but two of the philosophical doctrines likely to persist and gain adherents in a reasonably
just democraticregime.In such a regimethe comprehensivemoralviews
which supportits basic institutionsmay include the liberalismsof individualityand autonomy;and possibly these liberalismsare among the
moreprominentdoctrinesin an overlappingconsensus, thatis, in a consensus in which, as notedearlier,differentandeven conflictingdoctrines
affirmthe publiclysharedbasisofpoliticalarrangements.Theliberalisms
of Kantand Millhave a certainhistoricalpreeminenceas amongthe first
andmostimportantphilosophicalviews toespouse modem constitutional
democracyand to developits underlyingideasin an influentialway; and
it may even turn out that societies in which the ideals of autonomyand
individualityarewidelyacceptedare among the most well-governedand
harmonious.29
By contrastwith liberalismas a comprehensivemoraldoctrine,justice
as fairness tries to present a conceptionof politicaljustice rootedin the
basic intuitive ideas found in the public culture of a constitutionaldemocracy.We conjecturethatthese ideas arelikelytobe affirmedbyeach
of the opposingcomprehensivemoraldoctrinesinfluentialin a reasonably
just democratic society. Thus justice as fairness seeks to identify the
kernel of an overlappingconsensus, that is, the shared intuitive ideas
which when workedup into a politicalconceptionof justice turn out to
28. For Kant,see The Foundationsof the Metaphysicsof Moralsand The Critiqueof
PracticalReason.ForMill,see OnLiberty,particularlyCh.3 wheretheidealofindividuality
is most fully discussed.
29. This point has been made with respect to the liberalismsof Kantand Mill,but for
Americancultureone shouldmentiontheimportantconceptionsofdemocraticindividuality
expressedin the worksof Emerson,Thoreau,and Whitman.These are instructivelydiscussed by GeorgeKatebin his “DemocraticIndividualityand the Claimsof Politics,”Political Theory12 (August I984).
247 Justice as Fairness
be sufficient to underwritea just constitutionalregime. This is the most
we can expect, nor do we need more.3?We must note, however, that
when justice as fairness is fully realized in a well-orderedsociety, the
value of full autonomyis likewise realized.In this wayjustice as fairness
is indeed similarto the liberalismsof Kantand Mill;but in contrastwith
them, the value offull autonomyis here specifiedbyapoliticalconception
of justice, and not by a comprehensivemoraldoctrine.
It may appearthat, so understood,the public acceptance of justice as
fairness is no more than prudential;that is, that those who affirmthis
conception do so simply as a modus vivendi which allows the groupsin
the overlappingconsensus to pursue their own good subject to certain
constraintswhich each thinks to be forits advantagegiven existing circumstances. The idea of an overlappingconsensus may seem essentially
Hobbesian. But against this, two remarks:first, justice as fairness is a
moralconception:it has conceptionsof personand society,and concepts
ofrightandfairness,as well as principlesofjustice withtheircomplement
of the virtues through which those principles are embodiedin human
characterand regulatepoliticaland sociallife. This conceptionofjustice
provides an account of the cooperativevirtues suitable for a political
doctrine in view of the conditions and requirementsof a constitutional
regime. It is no less a moral conception because it is restricted to the
basic structureof society, since this restrictionis what enables it to serve
as a politicalconceptionofjustice givenourpresentcircumstances.Thus,
in an overlapping consensus (as understood here), the conception of
justice as fairness is not regardedmerely as a modus vivendi.
Second,in such a consensus each of the comprehensivephilosophical,
religious, and moraldoctrinesacceptsjustice as fairnessin its own way;
that is, each comprehensivedoctrine,fromwithin its own point of view,
is led toacceptthe publicreasonsofjustice specifiedbyjustice as fairness.
We might say that they recognize its concepts, principles,and virtuesas
theorems,as it were, at which theirseveralviews coincide.But this does
not make these points of coincidence any less moralor reduce them to
mere means. For, in general, these concepts, principles,and virtues are
accepted by each as belonging to a more comprehensivephilosophical,
religious, or moraldoctrine.Some may even affirmjustice as fairness as
30. Forthe ideaofthe kernelof anoverlappingconsensus(mentionedabove),see Theory,
last par.of Sec. 35, pp. 22of. Forthe idea of full autonomy,see “KantianConstructivism,”
pP.528ff.
248 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
a naturalmoralconception that can stand on its own feet. They accept
this conception of justice as a reasonablebasis for politicaland social
cooperation,andholdthatit is as naturalandfundamentalas the concepts
andprinciplesof honesty andmutualtrust,andthe virtuesof cooperation
in everydaylife. The doctrinesin an overlappingconsensus differin how
far they maintain a further foundationis necessary and on what that
furtherfoundationshouldbe. These differences,however,arecompatible
with a consensus onjustice as fairnessas a politicalconceptionofjustice.
VI
I shallconcludebyconsideringthe wayin which socialunityandstability
may be understoodby liberalismas a politicaldoctrine(as opposedto a
comprehensivemoralconception).3′
One of the deepest distinctionsbetween politicalconceptionsofjustice
is between those that allow for a pluralityof opposingand even incommensurableconceptionsof the goodand those that holdthatthereis but
one conception of the good which is to be recognizedby all persons, so
faras they arefullyrational.Conceptionsofjustice which fallon opposite
sides of this divide are distinct in many fundamentalways. Plato and
Aristotle,and the Christiantraditionas representedby Augustine and
Aquinas,fall on the side of the one rationalgood. Such views tend to be
teleologicaland to hold that institutionsarejust to the extent that they
effectivelypromotethis good.Indeed, since classicaltimes the dominant
traditionseems to have been that there is but one rationalconceptionof
the good, and that the aim of moralphilosophy,togetherwith theology
and metaphysics, is to determineits nature. Classicalutilitarianismbelongs to this dominant tradition.By contrast, liberalism as a political
doctrinesupposes that there aremanyconflictingandincommensurable
conceptions of the good, each compatiblewith the full rationalityof human persons, so far as we can ascertainwithin a workablepoliticalconception of justice. As a consequence of this supposition,liberalismassumes that it is a characteristicfeatureof a free democraticculture that
a pluralityof conflicting and incommensurableconceptionsof the good
are affirmedby its citizens. Liberalismas a politicaldoctrineholds that
31. This account of social unity is found in “Social Unity and Primary Goods,” referred
to in footnote27 above.See esp. pp. i6of., 170-73, I83f.
249 Justice as Fairness
the questionthe dominanttraditionhas triedto answerhas no practicable
answer; that is, it has no answer suitable for a political conception of
justice for a democraticsociety. In such a society a teleologicalpolitical
conception is out of the question: public agreement on the requisite
conception of the good cannot be obtained.
As I have remarked,the historicalorigin of this liberalsuppositionis
the Reformationand its consequences. Until the Warsof Religionin the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the fairterms of social cooperation
were narrowlydrawn:social cooperationon the basis of mutual respect
was regardedas impossible with persons of a differentfaith; or (in the
terminologyI have used) with persons who affirma fundamentallydifferentconceptionofthe good.Thus one of the historicalrootsofliberalism
was the developmentof variousdoctrinesurgingreligioustoleration.One
theme in justice as fairnessis to recognize the socialconditionsthat give
rise to these doctrines as among the so-calledsubjective circumstances
of justice and then to spell out the implicationsof the principleof toleration.32As liberalismis stated by Constant,de Tocqueville,and Millin
the nineteenth century,it accepts the pluralityof incommensurableconceptions of the goodas a fact of moderndemocraticculture,provided,of
course, these conceptions respect the limits specifiedby the appropriate
principles of justice. One task of liberalismas a politicaldoctrine is to
answer the question: how is social unity to be understood,given that
therecan be no publicagreementon the one rationalgood,anda plurality
of opposing and incommensurableconceptionsmust be taken as given?
And grantedthat social unity is conceivablein some definite way, under
what conditionsis it actuallypossible?
In justice as fairness, social unity is understoodby startingwith the
conception of society as a system of cooperationbetween free and equal
persons. Social unity and the allegiance of citizens to their common
institutions are not founded on their all affirmingthe same conception
of the good,buton theirpubliclyacceptingapoliticalconceptionofjustice
to regulate the basic structure of society. The concept of justice is independent from and priorto the concept of goodness in the sense that
its principleslimit the conceptions of the goodwhich are permissible.A
just basic structureandits backgroundinstitutionsestablisha framework
32. The distinctionbetween the objectiveand the subjectivecircumstancesofjustice is
made in Theory,pp. 126ff. The importanceof the role of the subjectivecircumstancesis
emphasized in “Kantian Constructivism,” pp. 540-42.
250 Philosophy& PublicAffairs
withinwhich permissibleconceptionscan be advanced.ElsewhereI have
called this relation between a conception of justice and conceptions of
the goodthe priorityofright(since thejust fallsunderthe right).I believe
thispriorityis characteristicofliberalismas a politicaldoctrineandsomething like it seems essential to any conception of justice reasonablefor
a democraticstate. Thus to understandhow socialunityis possiblegiven
the historicalconditionsof a democraticsociety, we startwith our basic
intuitiveidea of social cooperation,an idea present in the public culture
of a democraticsociety, and proceed from there to a public conception
of justice as the basis of social unity in the way I have sketched.
As for the question of whether this unity is stable, this importantly
depends on the content of the religious, philosophical,and moral doctrines available to constitute an overlappingconsensus. For example,
assuming the publicpoliticalconceptiontobejustice as fairness,imagine
citizens to affirm one of three views: the first view affirmsjustice as
fairness because its religious beliefs and understandingof faith lead to
a principleof tolerationand underwritethe fundamentalidea of society
as a scheme of social cooperationbetween free and equal persons; the
second view affirmsit as a consequence of a comprehensiveliberalmoral
conceptionsuch as those of Kantand Mill;while the thirdaffirmsjustice
as fairness not as a consequence of any wider doctrine but as in itself
sufficienttoexpressvalues thatnormallyoutweighwhateverothervalues
might oppose them, at least under reasonablyfavorableconditions.This
overlappingconsensus appearsfarmorestablethanone foundedonviews
that express skepticism and indifference to religious,philosophical,and
moralvalues, or that regard the acceptance of the principlesof justice
simply as a prudent modus vivendi given the existing balance of social
forces. Of course, there are many other possibilities.
The strength of a conception like justice as fairness may prove to be
that the more comprehensivedoctrines that persist and gain adherents
in a democratic society regulated by its principles are likely to cohere
togetherinto a more orless stable overlappingconsensus. But obviously
all this is highly speculative and raises questions which arelittle understood, since doctrines which persist and gain adherentsdepend in part
on socialconditions,andin particular,on these conditionswhen regulated
by the public conception of justice. Thus we are forced to consider at
some point the effects of the social conditionsrequiredby a conception
ofpoliticaljustice on the acceptanceofthatconceptionitself.Otherthings
251 Justice as Fairness
equal, a conceptionwill be moreorless stabledependingon how far the
conditionsto which it leads supportcomprehensivereligious,philosophical, and moraldoctrineswhich can constitute a stable overlappingconsensus. These questions of stabilityI cannot discuss here.33It suffices
to remarkthat in a society markedby deep divisions between opposing
andincommensurableconceptionsof the good,justice as fairnessenables
us at least to conceive how social unity can be both possible and stable.
33. PartIII of Theoryhas mainly three aims: first, to give an account of goodness as
rationality(Ch. 7) which is to providethe basisforidentifyingprimarygoods,those goods
which, giventhe conceptionofpersons,thepartiesaretoassumeareneededbythe persons
they represent(pp. 397, 433f.); second, to give an accountof the stabilityof a conception
ofjustice (Chs.8-9), andofjustice asfairnessinparticular, andtoshowthatthisconception
is more stable than other traditionalconceptionswith which it is compared,as well as
stableenough; and third,to give an account of the goodof a well-orderedsociety,that is,
of a just societyin whichjustice as fairnessis the publiclyaffirmedandeffectivelyrealized
politicalconceptionof justice (Chs. 8-9 and culminatingin Sec. 86). Amongthe faultsof
PartIII, I now think, are these. The account of goodnessas rationalityoften reads as an
account of the complete good for a comprehensivemoralconception;all it need do is to
explain the list of primarygoodsand the basis of the variousnaturalgoodsrecognizedby
common sense and in particular,the fundamentalsignificance of self-respectand selfesteem (which, as David Sachs and LaurenceThomashave pointedout to me, are not
properlydistinguished),and so of the social bases of self-respectas a primarygood.Also,
the accountof the stabilityofjustice as fairnesswas not extended,as it shouldhave been,
totheimportantcase ofoverlappingconsensus,as sketchedin the text;instead,thisaccount
was limitedto the simplest case where the public conceptionof justice is affirmedas in
itself sufficient to express values that normallyoutweigh, given the politicalcontext of a
constitutionalregime, whatevervalues might opposethem (see the thirdview in the overlappingconsensus indicatedin the text). In view of the discussionin Secs. 32-35 of Ch.
4 of libertyof conscience, the extension to the case of overlappingconsensus is essential.
Finally,the relevanceof the ideaof a well-orderedsocietyas a socialunionof socialunions
togivinganaccountofthe goodofajust societywasnotexplainedfullyenough.Throughout
PartIII too many connections are left for the readerto make, so that one may be left in
doubtas to the pointof much of Chs. 8 and 9.