Wenar Analysis of Rights
Wenar Analysis of Rights
1 Introduction
Of the two features of rights that a theory of the nature of rights is meant to
explain—logical structure and normative function—there is much more con-
sensus on the former than the latter. The Hohfeldian framework is by far the
most widely accepted analysis of the logical structure of rights, and it is used by
the majority of contemporary rights theorists. Regarding the functions of rights
however there is a longstanding disagreement. Proponents of the will theory and
the interest theory have struggled for decades if not centuries over which theory
provides the more powerful explanation of what rights do for right-holders.² It is
this debate over the functions of rights that is our main study here.
The question of the function of rights concerns what rights do for those who
hold them. The will theory of rights asserts that the function of all rights is to
give the right-holder choices. According to Hart’s will theory, for instance, the
function of a land owner’s legal right is to give him the legally recognized power
to waive or not to waive the duties that others have not to enter his land. As Hart
describes the core idea of the will theory in the context of legal rights, ‘One who
has a right has a choice respected by the law’ (Hart 1982, 171, 183–5, 188–9).³
The will theorist’s view of the function of rights limits what he recognizes as
a right: where there is no normatively respected choice, there can be no right.
The will theorist’s view also restricts the class of potential right-holders. Only
those beings that have certain capacities—the capacities to exercise choice in
controlling their own actions and the duties of others—are potential will theory
right-holders.
² For some of this history, see Tuck 1997, Brett 1997. See also Simmonds’s reflections on the
history of the jurisprudence of rights (Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner, 1998, 113–232).
³ Besides Hart, influential advocates of a choice-based approach to rights include Savigny,
Kelsen, Wellman, and Steiner.
⁴ ‘I have put this problem to a large number of people . . . To almost everyone it is perfectly clear
and obvious what should be done. The difficulty is that these people seem to divide almost evenly
on the problem, with large numbers thinking that the opposing half is just being silly.’ (Nozick
1969, 117)
⁵ This summary draws from Wenar 2005.
⁶ Despite not being able to recognize a person’s claim against being tortured as a right, the will
theory does recognize many negligible claims (such as your waivable claim not to be patted on the
head) as rights (MacCormick 1977, 197).
find it surprising to hear that the criminal law did not ascribe to them a right
against being murdered or raped.
The limitations of the will theory are also evident in its inability to account for
the rights of certain kinds of right-holders: for example, for the rights of incom-
petent (eg, comatose) adults, and of children (MacCormick 1982, 154–66). The
will theory can acknowledge rights only in those beings competent to exercise
choices—which incompetent adults and children are not. Incompetent adults
and children therefore are not possibly right-holders on this view. This result
diverges significantly from an ordinary understanding of rights. Few thought-
ful laymen would insist that it is a conceptual impossibility, for example, for the
comatose to have rights against bodily mutilation.
Since the interest theory turns on interests instead of choices, it can recog-
nize unwaivable rights against enslavement and torture. The interest theory can
also accept children and incompetent adults as right-holders, since children and
incompetent adults have interests that rights can protect.
Yet the interest theory is also inadequate to an ordinary understanding of
rights. Staying with Raz’s version of the interest theory, there are many rights
for which the interests of the putative right-holder are not sufficient to hold other
person(s) to be under a duty. For example, Raz himself allows that the interest of
a journalist in protecting his sources is not itself sufficient reason to hold others
to be under the corresponding duty (Raz 1986, 179, 247–8). It is rather the inter-
ests of the general public in an active and independent media that grounds the
journalist’s right to protect his sources. Yet as Kamm observes, ‘If the satisfaction
of the interests of others is the reason why the journalist gets a right to have his
interest protected, his interest is not sufficient to give rise to the duty of non-
interference with his speech’ (Kamm 2002, 485). Nor does this difficulty only
affect the rights of office-holders like journalists, as Raz admits that weighty rights
such as the rights of free expression and freedom of contract are not justified solely
by the interests of the individual citizens who hold them (Raz 1996a, 30–43, 131).
Both the will and the interest theories are, in their standard forms, too narrow.
Each theory accounts for some but not all of the rights that any ordinary under-
standing of rights will accept.
Will and interest theorists have wrestled with this mismatch between the
scope of their theories and the range of the phenomena for a long time. They
have adopted three strategies in response to the problem of narrowness. The first
strategy is to claim that their theories are only meant to describe a more limited
range of the phenomena than was originally supposed. The second strategy is
to attempt to expand the scope of their theories in order to explain more of the
phenomena. The third strategy is to replace the set of phenomena to be explained
claim-right. The example shows that a person’s well-being does not go up merely
in virtue of promises to him being kept. A promisee can be in every way better
off if the deal he has foolishly entered into goes unconsummated, and so his right
remains unfulfilled.
In response to counterexamples where rights outrun interests, several interest
theorists have framed their theories around weak generalizations, which only
attempt to explain some but not all rights. MacCormick, for example, phrases
his central thesis in terms of ‘normal circumstances’: ‘To ascribe to all members
of a class C a right to treatment T is to presuppose that T is, in all normal cir-
cumstances, a good for every member of C.’ (MacCormick 1982, 160, emphasis
added) Similarly, Kramer presents his theory in terms of what is ‘generally benefi-
cial for any typical human being or collectivity or non-human creature’ (Kramer
and Steiner 2007, 290, emphasis added). The qualifications ‘normal circum-
stances’, ‘generally’, and ‘typical’ limit the domain of rights that these theories
will attempt to explain to a domain with certain rights (specifically, the coun-
terexamples) removed.⁷
Weak generalizations are unsatisfying because of their lack of comprehensive-
ness. A linguist studying English will not rest content with the rule that in all
normal circumstances, ‘ i’ comes before ‘e’. Nor will a toxicologist be satisfied with
the thesis that mushrooms are generally harmless when eaten. It is unlikely that
the best theory of rights takes the form: ‘All rights have feature F (except for
those that lack feature F).’⁸ A weak generalization can be better than another
generalization that is weaker still, or better than no generalization at all. Yet a the-
ory based on a weak generalization will always be discarded once a theory with
greater explanatory scope is found.
⁹ I hesitate to address Kramer’s interest theory, as Kramer has not yet had the chance to set out
his evolving theory fully. This is evident in Kramer’s last published writing on his interest theory
(Kramer and Steiner 2007). For example, Kramer makes philosophically significant modifications
version of his interest theory (which he discusses but does not endorse) the powers
and privileges belonging to various offices are properly classified as rights because
those powers and privileges usually promote certain interests of the office-holders.
This suggestion does not have much immediate appeal. For example, consider the
fact that a judge’s power to sentence criminals is properly classified as a right. It
would sound odd to say that this fact is explained by the fact that the possession
of this power is generally beneficial for the judge. Similarly with the fact that a
policeman’s liberty to detain a suspect is properly classified as a right. One might
not think that this fact is explained by the fact that the possession of such a lib-
erty is generally beneficial for the policeman.¹⁰
Yet that is what the ‘expansive’ version of Kramer’s interest theory holds.¹¹
Within this expansive theory, if a norm (here a role) bestows a normative ability
(a Hohfeldian power or privilege) on a person, then the fact that that normative
ability is properly classified as a right is explained by the fact that their having
to his theory without having space to explain fully why he has done so or what the further implica-
tions might be, such as when he declares that a large class of interests (which he labels ‘vicarious’)
are irrelevant to what rights there are (Kramer and Steiner 2007, 302–4). More broadly, Kramer
has yet to set out a usable method for applying his theory’s distinctive test for locating claim-right
holders. Kramer’s test says that X holds a claim-right if X’s detriment is sufficient to establish a
breach of a duty, yet Kramer has not yet said how one can tell whether X’s detriment is in fact suf-
ficient to establish a breach of a duty (without begging the question by surreptitiously relying on
one’s beliefs about whether X holds a claim-right). A full treatment of Kramer’s interest theory
must wait until Kramer has had the opportunity to present a complete statement of his revised the-
ory, by explaining what he believes are the necessary and sufficient conditions for the ascription of
a right, and by offering some systematic account of how one can tell whether these conditions have
been met.
¹⁰ Unlike Raz’s interest theory, on the expansive version of Kramer’s interest theory the interests
of a right-holder are not necessarily what justifies the establishment of a right: they are not neces-
sarily what justifies the imposition of duties or the creation of norms or roles. This can be seen from
Kramer’s test for right-holding (on the expansive interpretation of his view): ‘If a norm or decision
bestows a Hohfeldian entitlement on Q, and if the possession of that entitlement would usually
be beneficial for someone in Q’s situation, then Q is a right-holder under the norm or decision.’
(Kramer and Steiner 2007, 290) Here the interest (what ‘would usually be beneficial for someone in
Q’s situation’) does not necessarily have any justificatory relation whatsoever to the norm. Rather
the interest (partly) explains the fact that Q has a right by usually being present when the norm that
bestows the relevant Hohfeldian entitlement is present: that is, by satisfying the second conjunct in
the antecedent when the first conjunct is also satisfied. This is the sense in which, for example, the
fact that a policeman’s liberty to detain a suspect is properly classified as a right is explained by the
fact that the possession of such a liberty is generally beneficial for the policeman.
¹¹ Kramer sets out the ‘expansive’ version of his interest theory at some length, and says it
may be worth developing further, but in the end he does not accept it (Kramer and Steiner 2007,
290–5). Th is expansive version of the interest theory would need further explication in any case.
For example, in setting out this theory Kramer appeals to a distinction between ‘intrinsic’ and
‘extrinsic’ effects of legal norms without defining these terms or saying how one might distinguish
one from the other (293). Kramer also appeals to the purpose of legal norms to make sense of these
cases (293), where a few pages earlier he had said that purposes had no ‘determinative bearing’ and
were ‘quite immaterial’ in his theory (289, 290). I discuss the expansive version of Kramer’s inter-
est theory here because it is a serious attempt to broaden an interest theory so as to encompass the
rights of offices and positions. Without some modification like this one, there seems little hope that
Kramer’s interest theory will be able to capture these rights.
¹² Kramer might rather claim that a judge’s responsibility is not to sentence but rather to see
that sentences are passed. Yet imagining someone who has a responsibility to see that sentences are
passed, but who has no power of his own to sentence, would not fit Kramer’s words: such a person
would not have ‘judicial responsibilities’ in this respect. Such a person would rather be the holder of
some sort of administrative office. The powers of that administrative office (to see that sentences are
passed) would presumably include powers to appoint, or perhaps simply to discipline, the judges
who have the power pass sentences. Whether it would be in the interest of someone holding such
an administrative office for his office to be redefined so that he himself gains the power to sentence
depends entirely on how we imagine his office to be currently defined (eg, how many judges he is
responsible for overseeing, whether he is expected to have detailed understanding of sentencing
procedures, what oversight he himself faces for discharging his responsibilities, etc). Within any
well-designed system of roles there will be no presumption that overseeing officers have any such
interest in their roles being redefined. (This reasoning applies also to the cases of the traffic warden
and the army captain (Kramer and Steiner 2007, 290).)
¹³ It might be noted here that this discussion is not concerned with whether it is in any individ-
ual’s interests to hold a particular office in the first place. It may be beneficial for an individual to
occupy some office, or it may be entirely a burden. It may or may not be in Jane’s (or anyone’s) inter-
est to be a judge, but in either case Jane will have the rights of a judge if she is a judge. It might also
The expansive version of Kramer’s interest theory cannot account for the fact
that role-bearers’ powers and liberties to do what they have duties to do are rights.
Nor can it account for the fact that their discretionary liberties are rights. For
example, a parent has the liberty either to punish or not to punish her child.
Kramer attempts to explain why this first liberty (the liberty to punish) is a right
as follows. Imagine a world in which a parent has no liberty to punish her child
(ie, she has a duty not to punish), but in which she retains the liberty not to pun-
ish her child. In such a world, Kramer says, the parent would be better off if she
gained the liberty to punish her child because then she would no longer be liable
to penalties whenever she did punish (Kramer and Steiner 2007, 291–2).¹⁴
In Kramer’s imagined world parents are prohibited from punishing their
children. In this world parents also have no duty to punish their children. Why in
this world would a parent be better off if she gained a liberty to punish her child?
She will be better off gaining a liberty to punish her child only if she has some
reason to punish her child. Yet there is no reason that Kramer can depend upon
here.
Kramer appears to suggest that in his imagined world a parent would have a
role-based reason to punish her child, and so would be better off with the liberty
to punish. He says that with this liberty she would ‘not have to worry about being
penalized for taking steps which she reasonably deems necessary for the effective
performance of her role as a parent’ (Kramer and Steiner 2007, 292). Yet within
this imagined world parents are prohibited from punishing their children, so
their role is quite different than in our world. In this imagined world, the role of
parent could at best be described as ‘raising one’s children well, so far as one can
do so without punishing them’. Punishing one’s child could not be a step reason-
ably deemed necessary for the effective performance of that role. In the imagined
world, discipline is no part of a parent’s job description. So Kramer has no role-
based reason available to explain an interest in gaining the liberty to punish.
Kramer might instead venture that a parent in his imagined world would have
some non-role-based reason to discipline her child.¹⁵ Yet this depends entirely
on how we imagine this world to be. For example, in this imagined world where
parents have no duty to discipline their children and indeed are prohibited from
doing so, the responsibility for disciplining children might well be (indeed likely
be mentioned that this discussion remains neutral concerning what justifies the creation of offices
that are defined by specific duties and rights.
¹⁴ Kramer notes that his reasoning is the same across two variants of this example. The dis-
cussion here concerns the variant in which the parent has a Hohfeldian privilege not to punish
the child, and Kramer considers why the parent’s privilege to punish is a right. The analysis of the
other variant, where the parent has a duty to punish the child, is captured by the police patrolman
example above.
¹⁵ As mentioned in n 9 above, Kramer does not allow appeals to ‘vicarious’ interests within his
theory (ie, interests that ‘reside wholly in the furtherance of somebody else’s interests’ (Kramer and
Steiner 2007, 303)). So whatever reason to discipline Kramer might posit here, it cannot be the rea-
son that a parent has to discipline her child for the child’s own good.
¹⁶ This example here resembles the case of John (Kramer and Steiner 2007, 292–3). Kramer
addresses this case by invoking his weak generalization about what is generally in people’s interests,
and then asserting that it will be ‘extremely rare’ for people to be better off for facing a legal prohib-
ition that disinclines them from doing something risky or difficult that they would otherwise do.
But as the parent example shows, Kramer must face this kind of question all the time. Moreover,
reflection on paternalistic legislation gives further reason to doubt Kramer’s assertion. Paternalistic
legislation is just an attempt to make people better off by instituting a legal prohibition that disin-
clines them from doing something risky or difficult that they would otherwise do. For Kramer to
establish that it is extremely rare for a legal prohibition to further the interests of those restricted by
it, he would need to show that it is extremely rare for paternalistic legislation to achieve its aims.
This substitution of the reference of ‘rights’ means that theorists using this
third strategy speak a different dialect than that used by ordinary speakers such
as judges, lawyers and laymen. Thus when Wellman is confronted with the result
that his will theory cannot recognize the rights of infants, he says:
Surely it is confusing for me to insist that infants could not have legal rights as I conceive
of a right but to admit that infants can and do have rights as judges and lawyers con-
ceive of rights. Still, this confusion can be minimized, although probably not completely
avoided, by distinguishing carefully between two spheres of discourse, the language of
the law and the language of the philosophy of law. (Wellman 1995, 135)
Wellman here distinguishes the ordinary language of the law from the lan-
guage in which his technical explanandum occurs: the ‘language of the philoso-
phy of law’. Kramer makes the same kind of distinction to justify a move to his
own preferred technical explanandum. Kramer wishes to work within a sphere of
discourse in which the referent of ‘rights’ is claim-rights. Like Wellman, Kramer
faces the difficulty that ordinary discourse does not line up with his technical
definition. In Kramer’s case, one conflict is that claim-rights concern only the
actions of others, while ordinary usage accepts many rights that give the right-
holder themselves rights to act (eg, speak, worship, promise). Faced with obvi-
ous cases where ordinary usage acknowledges rights to act, Kramer responds by
disparaging ordinary language: ‘Our ordinary ways of speaking about rights as
entitlements to do various things are loose’ (Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner
1998, 13–14).
In Wellman’s ‘language of the philosophy of law’, the term ‘rights’ refers to
the technical concept ‘claims-with-powers’. In Kramer’s ‘strict sense’, the term
‘rights’ refers to the technical concept ‘claims’. The question for the theorists of
rights who deploy a technical concept is whether they can offer a rationale for
moving the analysis away from ordinary language and toward their favoured
technical explanandum in particular. One obviously inadequate justification
would be to point out that redefining the explanandum makes the phenomena to
be explained fit better with their favoured explanans. A will theorist, for instance,
should not simply say that he prefers his technical definition of the term ‘rights’
because the will theory is so good at explaining ‘rights’ so defined. Yet putting
such special pleading to the side, how else could a move to some particular tech-
nical explanandum be motivated?
Rights theorists who work within a technical discourse characteristically allege
that this move is necessary because the ordinary discourse of rights is hopelessly
vague, or because ordinary language speakers are prone to fall into contradictions
when discussing rights (eg, Kramer and Steiner 2007, 295). As Kramer puts it
in the quote above, ordinary ways of speaking about rights are ‘loose’. No the-
ory, these theorists say, can hope to explain a set of assertions if the assertions
have extremely indeterminate or contradictory content. So, these theorists allege,
they must aim their theories at an artificially-defined domain of ‘rights’ instead.
¹⁷ Hohfeld’s curious, unargued stipulation that ‘in the strictest sense’ all rights are claims dis-
ables anyone who accepts it from giving a straightforward analysis of many commonly-asserted
rights. For example, any analysis of legal rights should be able to explain a judge’s legal right to sen-
tence a convicted criminal. Some who adhere to Hohfeld’s stipulation set aside the obvious analysis
that this right consists in the judge’s Hohfeldian power to impose duties on the convict, and say
rather that the right consists in the claims protecting the judge from the interference of others when
he exercises such a power (see for example Raz, who separates the power to promise from the ‘right’
against interference with one’s promising (Raz 1986, 173–6)). However, construing such rights
as claims against interference is strained. One can see this by imagining situations in which inter-
ference is literally impossible (eg, where judges pass sentences from impregnable strongholds,
communicate telepathically, etc). Here a claim-right against interference makes no sense, but
judges would still have a right to sentence. Similarly, anyone who accepts Hohfeld’s stipulation
will have difficulties explaining many (power- and privilege-) rights that religious believers have
for centuries attributed to God (God has a right to make promises, to command his creations, to
punish sinners, etc). These rights cannot possibly be construed as God’s rights against interference,
for such interference is literally unimaginable.
left (Sacks 1985, 8–22). The technical rights theorists have something of the same
disposition toward the ordinary understanding of rights. These will and interest
theorists are aware that their theories of the functions of rights cannot account
for a large number of rights that are commonly accepted. They therefore insist
that ordinary rights-talk is vague and inconsistent in order to attempt to shift
attention toward their favoured technical recharacterizations of the term ‘rights’.
Yet when attention is so shifted, they once again attempt to embrace an ordinary
understanding of rights as the guarantor of their theory’s superiority. This pos-
ition holds the ordinary understanding of rights to be so irremediably vague and
inconsistent as to be useless as the object of theoretical explanation, but not so
corrupt as to be useless in mediating between artificially constructed definitions
of ‘rights’.
This is an awkward posture to maintain, and in fact there is no need to assume
it. The technical theorists’ stated rationale for moving to a technical explanan-
dum was to overcome the vague and contradictory nature of ordinary assertions
about rights. However, vagueness and contradictoriness in ordinary language
can be no reason whatsoever to switch to an artificial concept of rights.
First, technical rights theorists have not in fact established that ordinary dis-
course is frequently vague and contradictory, instead of being a discourse that
systematically assigns different meanings to the same word in different contexts.
Such systematic variation in meaning is familiar in common speech. For example
there is nothing vague or contradictory in the statement that ‘In a free market one
is free to lend money interest-free.’ ‘Free’ in this statement takes three different
but determinate meanings, the meaning of each occurrence being determined by
the context. Similarly in ordinary discourse one often hears the word ‘right’ used
to refer variously to privilege-rights, claim-rights, power-rights, and immunity-
rights, with the intended referent made clear by the context. Interpretations of
ordinary speech that find vagueness or inconsistency instead of precise and deter-
minate variation in usage are often just poor interpretations of ordinary speech.
Second, any vagueness and inconsistency within ordinary discourse about
rights, insofar as it exists, does not justify a radical shift to a technical explanan-
dum. For there is a straightforward solution to any problems with vagueness and
contradiction, which is for rights theorists to use the Hohfeldian framework to
discuss rights (as indeed most already do).
Using the Hohfeldian framework of privileges, claims, powers, and immun-
ities gives maximum specificity to statements about rights, while simultaneously
insuring against contradictions. So long as rights theorists use the Hohfeldian
language correctly, they cannot commit errors of vagueness or inconsistency.
Therefore once theorists are using this analytical framework, there is no fur-
ther need for them artificially to designate some subset of the Hohfeldian inci-
dents as the referent of the term ‘rights’. Once theorists have agreed to use the
Hohfeldian terminology, there would need an extra argument to motivate a
redefinition of ‘rights’ either as ‘claims’, or as ‘claims-with-powers’, or indeed as
given the correct theory of morality or of the law, because unlike the theory of the
life-cycle of plants these theories are not ‘given’. Indeed, which substantive the-
ory of morality or law is correct is a matter of fundamental dispute. An interest
theorist who is told that a will-based definition of ‘rights’ fits more fruitfully into
some controversial moral or jurisprudential theory will not believe that he has
been given a reason to accept that definition (and vice versa). Of course it is vital
that philosophers continue their debates within normative theory about which
substantive theory of morality and of the law is the correct theory. However,
within a conceptual analysis any appeal to a contentious substantive theory will
merely infect that analysis with the contentiousness of the substantive theory
appealed to.
All of the efforts of technical will and interest theorists to move away from ‘fit
with ordinary understanding’ as the criterion for a successful analysis of the con-
cept of a right are, finally, unsuccessful. The allegedly vague and contradictory
nature of ordinary usage cannot justify such a move, nor can an appeal to fruit-
fulness. The only usable criterion for success in analysis remains that the ana-
lysis tracks the ways that informed, thoughtful speakers of the language use the
concept—which is in fact the criterion that even technical rights theorists use,
despite themselves, most frequently.
4 The Standoff
Neither the will nor the interest theory provides a comprehensive enough
account of an ordinary understanding of rights. Neither theory succeeds, there-
fore, in achieving a fundamental goal of a theory of rights. Will theorists and
interest theorists have explored three strategies of response to this problem in
some detail. Yet as we have seen none of these lines of response—restricting the
domain of application, attempting to expand the scope of the theory, or resort-
ing to a technical discourse—has proved adequate. In this situation neither side
of the debate is able to prevail conclusively in the main arena, nor can either
side garner more resources or shift the field of play to one more favourable to
its view. The result, as Wayne Sumner has said, is a kind of standoff (Sumner
1987, 51). Th is is a battle in which, despite the deployment of great ingenuity
on each side for many years, there seems no chance that either side can emerge
victorious.
Lacking the means to prove that their preferred theory is superior, will and
interest theorists have resorted to turning up the volume in pointing out how
the rival theory conflicts with ordinary understanding. Steiner is relatively civil
in casting aspersions on the interest theory, pointing only to the ‘grave implaus-
ibility’ of its implications and how it ‘places considerable strain on our ordin-
ary understanding of rights’ (Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner 1998, 285, 287).
MacCormick’s frustration with the standoff between his own interest theory and
In one way, the debate over the functions of rights is presently in a bad state.
Theorists of the two leading views have been contesting for so long, and have
become so familiar with the limited resources available on each side, that even
the most stalwart defenders seem resigned to battle for the minor honor of hold-
ing the less starkly counter-intuitive theory.¹⁹ In such a debate, as Schopenhauer
said about diplomatic squabbles, each side complains about the other, and both
sides are correct. Even more disheartening is when outsiders to this debate import
either the will or the interest theory as a premise from which to derive further
conclusions about rights in their normative theorizing. One cannot blame these
outsiders for reaching for a leading theory in an area outside of their specialism.
¹⁸ Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner 1998, 72, 69, 73, 75, 69. In another essay Kramer describes
the conclusions of the will theory as ‘bizarre’, ‘preposterous’, and ‘jarringly and gratuitously at odds
with ordinary patterns of discourse’ (Kramer 2001, 71).
¹⁹ Thus Steiner: ‘Theories of rights don’t come cheap. Buying either of them [the will theory
or the interest theory] involves paying some price in the currency of counter-intuitiveness. Nor,
I should add, has this centuries-long debate about the nature of rights ever revealed any distinct
third theory that even approaches their levels of generality, let alone promises to undercut their
prices.’ (Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner 1998, 298)
Yet these theorists do so without realizing the genetic weaknesses that their
normative arguments thereby inherit.
There is, however, cause for optimism, as a broader view of the deadlock
between the will and the interest theories shows where progress must come. The
structure of the debate that we have seen is as follows. Each of the two theories
explains some but not all of the relevant phenomena—in this case, an ordinary
understanding of rights. Each of the theories has attempted predictable responses
to its own narrowness. None of these responses has been adequate, even after
many variations have been advanced. It seems quite likely that the correct diag-
nosis of this situation is that each theory captures part of the truth about the
nature of rights, but that each also has within it some unremovable premise that
prevents it from capturing the whole truth.
What could this premise be? We get an initial indication of the location of the
premise by recalling two of the formal desiderata that these theories are attempting
to fulfil: comprehensiveness and simplicity. Both the will and the interest theor-
ies, we have found, are insufficiently comprehensive. The natural suspicion must
be, therefore, that they are excessively simple. There must be some oversimplified
view of rights entrenched within these theories that prevents them from fram-
ing a thesis that would account for all of the phenomena to be explained. To put
this the other way around, there must be some complexity in the nature of rights
that these theories cannot acknowledge while they remain will or interest theories.
If there were some way to rework these theories to capture this complexity, it
seems that will or interest theorists would have found it by now.
Where more specifically is the restrictive premise within these theories? In
this debate there are two theories, each professing that rights have a single func-
tion. Each of these theories appears to capture part—but only part—of the truth
about what rights there are. The erroneous shared assumption must be that rights
have a single function. The correct assumption therefore must be that rights have
more functions than one. The difficulty faced by both will and interest theorists
throughout their long debate is that they have each been advancing a monis-
tic theory to account for pluralistic phenomena. This explains why the debate
between them has been unresolvable. Each side can claim a certain domain as its
own, and cast counter-examples at the other side. But neither side can give up its
focus on just one function of rights without giving up the basic character of its
theory. Thus the theories are stuck in the stalemate.
This situation has precursors in the history of physical theory. The pre-Socratics
put forward contending monistic theories of the physical world. The debate
between Thales’ thesis ‘all is water’ and Anaximenes’ thesis ‘all is air’ resembles
the modern debate between the will thesis ‘all rights give choices’ and the interest
thesis ‘all rights further well-being’. Progress in scientific theory came only with
the abandonment of the shared monistic premise. What post-Socratic scientific
theories gave up in simplicity, they more than made up for in comprehensiveness.
Progress in rights theory can be expected to come along the same path.
rights there really are. So, for example, Steiner presents the will theory of rights as
a preparation for his left-libertarian political theory, and Raz advances the inter-
est theory as a step in the argument for his perfectionist account of social justice.
The strategy here is to use a monistic analysis of an ordinary understanding of
rights to relieve some of the justificatory burden from the substantive theory that
will follow. On this strategy, if Steiner is accused of putting forward a substantive
account of rights within which animals have no rights, he can reply that on the
best analysis of an ordinary understanding of rights it is impossible for animals
to have rights. If Raz is confronted by the objection that his political theory quite
controversially rests the justification of rights on the interests (instead of, say, on
the intrinsic dignity) of the right-holder, he can reply that on the best analysis
of an ordinary understanding of rights the function of rights is to further the
interest of the right-holder.
Monistic theories have continued to attract theorists, then, because such the-
ories are useful for supporting one or another controversial substantive theory of
rights. Within moral and political theory, the will theory has been used to sup-
port Kantian normative theories (which emphasize autonomy), while the interest
theory has been used to support welfarist normative theories (which emphasize
individual well-being). ‘Fit with the theorist’s preferred substantive theory’ has
in this way been a suppressed desideratum in presenting theories to account for
an ordinary understanding of the nature of rights. As Raz himself puts it, ‘Moral
and political philosophy has for long embraced the literary device (not always
clearly recognized as such) of presenting substantive arguments in the guise of
conceptual explorations’ (Raz 1986, 16).
This strategy is, of course, illicit. The fact that a monistic theory can be used to
bolster a controversial moral or jurisprudential theory is no reason to accept such
theories as a superior account of an ordinary understanding of rights.
Indeed the susceptibility of rights theorists to the invisible gravitational pull of
their substantive theories has contributed the continuing deadlock in the debate
over the functions of rights. The pull of such substantive theories has dragged
these theorists toward defending one of the two monistic theories as an account
of an ordinary understanding of rights. Having been pulled into these positions,
the debate over the function of rights has then become a proxy debate in the bat-
tle between the substantive (Kantian and welfarist) theories. Such a proxy debate
has made no more progress than has the debate between the two substantive
theories themselves.
As a subject of scholarly inquiry, an analysis of an ordinary understanding of
rights has its own integrity. This integrity requires that the analysis be conducted
independently of the pull of controversial substantive theories. If such an analysis
is so conducted then, and only then, it can become useful as part of an inquiry
into which substantive theory of rights is best.
For an unbiased analysis of an ordinary understanding of rights will be
useful for weighing the justificatory burden that any substantive theory of rights
²¹ In Utilitarianism Mill presented a famous reforming definition of ‘rights’ as that which one
has ‘a valid claim on society to protect [one] in the possession of ’ (Mill 2002, 54). This definition
of ‘rights’ fits very well within Mill’s normative theory: it is ‘worth it’ in utilitarian terms to protect
possession of certain things even at the cost of imposing social sanctions. However when we retain
a grip on an ordinary understanding of rights we notice that Mill’s reforming definition rejects
many seemingly innocent rights as incoherent. There would ordinarily seem nothing amiss for
example in attributing rights to people in society-less state of nature, or even in saying that every
individual has the right to be free from society’s protection. Yet neither of these ascriptions of rights
could make sense within Mill’s definition. To establish his definition of rights as the correct one, a
Millian would need to show why the attractions of his normative theory are great enough to lead us
to give up our ordinary understanding of rights in cases such as these.