Which Matters More: Rules or Outcomes?
I’ve struggled for years with whether I’m fundamentally a deontological thinker or a consequentialist thinker. In simpler language, I’ve never quite known whether I think principles come first or whether I care more about the consequences. Is murder wrong because it violates some deeply seated principle about human autonomy and dignity? Or is it wrong because societies can’t exist if it’s allowed? My brain reels a bit and wants to respond: Both! And!
Some of my “both-and-ness” on this point from the fact that I’ve always been more or less an applied theorist. I don’t really like labels that much and I work to avoid them as much as I can.
Some of that avoidance of labels stems itself from a couple decades of thinking about about politics and caring about politics and watching people make immoderate mistakes about politics. In that time I’ve come to the conclusion that we can take immoderately extreme positions on both principled or consequentialist stances, at least when we take one or the other alone as our moral and political compass, while ignoring the other. The person who insists on following a rule to the letter without regard for the injustice that results is a fairly familiar trope. Similarly familiar is the specter of the person who insists that all that matters is the best outcome for as many as possible, whatever principles or rights or rules lay ruined in their wake. As with most things, the extremes are the things to avoid.
But even at a meta-level, we need to balance these concerns about immoderation as an outcome against a deontological foundation, namely: the truth - which is what we really should care about, after all - clearly demonstrates that principles and consequences are two sides of the same coin.
As with many things, I’m a radical moderate on this point.
Principles and Consequences Work Together
Principles and consequences are both important because the process of human morality is an evolved and adaptive one. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t transcendent principles (though this isn’t the space to go into that deeper question), but it does mean that the rules that stand the test of time (at least most of the time) exist precisely because they, on average, get us better results than no rules would. Does it mean our current rules are perfect or ideal? Nope. But it does mean that successful principles - meaning rules that have lasted across generations and social contexts - are generally rooted in decent results, at least over the long run, and that’s precisely how they become successful principles in the first place.
Does this mean that the application of a principle will result in a good outcome in every single case? Of course not. It also means that we may need to put up with marginal results in some cases as a way to protect the principles themselves.
On the flip side, we may need to temporarily jettison or at least massage principles or rules when following them to the letter means that some kind of gross injustice will be done. Now, someone might respond “that just means you have the wrong principles” but that’s sort of my point. If your principles consistently lead to serious conflicts or gross injustice, you probably have the wrong principle or are applying it in the wrong way or the wrong context.
This process of figuring out how to balance adherence to rules with concern for outcomes is called prudence and it’s a pretty old concept (which might be why it doesn’t get the respect it deserves today). Thinkers like Aristotle and Edmund Burke emphasize the importance of a certain degree of flexibility in our application of the rules, reigned in by the overarching demands of justice, as crucial for statesmanship.
But even more than prudence in the moment, these thinkers emphasize how the rules that guide successful human communities - including protection of rights, rule of law itself, our basic principles of justice and fairness that guide everything from property transactions to contracts - emerge via a process of trial and error over hundreds or thousands of years. This emergent process is ultimately an adaptive one: where rules are judged by their outcomes in large and small ways, tweaked as they’re applied to new conditions, and become more firm and more trustworthy (or not) with each iteration (and kept or jettisoned accordingly).
A Radically Moderate Theory of Prudence
This is, then, the reality of our moral landscape: People aren’t (usually) handed golden tablets with a detailed moral map and compass and told to get on with it. They usually muddle through their moral landscape over time, find a rule that resolves or limits conflict, and put that rule in their pocket for future reference. Sometimes that rule doesn’t fit well in a similar case, given the differences in moral geography, so the rule gets tweaked, and on and on it goes.
This process is basically the process of the development of the common law, which my friend John Hasnas lays out so brilliantly here and here and elsewhere).
Does any of this mean that principles don’t matter? Of course not! The right principles are the result of thousands of years of trial and error, are based on deep truths about human nature, and have been tried and tested in a variety of situations. They are the best practices we have for navigating our complex moral landscapes. Most of our best principles are those that have withstood the test of time in this way. And they become principles because they’ve gotten good results.
But humans are innovative buggers and we continue to create new situations and problems that our existing rules may not fit perfectly. So we need to tweak them, find the logic behind them (logic that usually limits conflict and fosters collaboration), and apply that logic to our new situation. This incremental change means taking seriously the principles themselves - including concepts like justice, fairness and truth - while also taking seriously that consequences matter. Rules that consistently create frustration or violence do not help us do what all rules should do: help us live together in flourishing communities.
A principled position with disastrous consequences is no better than an unprincipled good result that opens the door for unprincipled bad results.
In the end, what I’m thinking about more and more these days is why we need both principles and consequences. The concept of radical moderation requires not only that we demonstrate the importance of both, but that we demonstrate that both principles and outcomes are in fact two facets of how we learn to live together in this complex 4D moral landscape that we call human society.
As always, let me know what you think!