This article is concerned with the selection of an appropriate model of choice to underlie Rawls' (1971) two principles of justice. Rawls' first principle of justice states that basic liberty is not to be sacrificed for other objectives, including wealth. His second principle of justice suggests that even a minute decrease in the well-being of the least prosperous classes should not be accepted in exchange for an increase, no matter how large, in the well-being of more well-to-do citizens.

1. Despite the plain fact that there is nothing in this world that can be proved without reliance on some assumption or another (perhaps only the assumption that the laws of logic are correct), there is an inalienable difference between an argument that begins by assuming what it is designed to establish and one that begins by assuming the contradictory of what it is designed to establish. Arguments of the first kind are uncontroversially acknowledged to be circular, or question-begging; though valid they achieve nothing. Those of the second kind conform to the classical pattern of reductio ad absurdum or indirect proof. A typical example is the proof of the irrationality of √2, which begins by assuming that for some integral m, n the identity m2/n2 = 2, and (using some trite principles of number theory) arrives at a contradiction. Nothing whatever is established or justified by arguments of the first kind, even granted the truth of all the other assumptions (if any), and the validity of the rules of inference; while the second may establish that, if those assumptions are true (and the rules of inference employed valid), then the additional assumption (that √2 is rational) is false.

Social scientists could learn some useful things from philosophy. Here I shall discuss what I take to be one such thing: a better understanding of the concept of utility. There are several reasons why a better understanding may be useful. First, this concept is commonly found in the writings of social scientists, especially economists (see, for example, Sen and Williams, 1982). Second, utility is the main ingredient in utilitarianism, a perspective on morality that, traditionally, has been very influential among social scientists. Third, and most important, with a better understanding of utility comes, as I shall try to show here, a better understanding of “personal welfare”. or, in other words, of what may be said to be in people's best interests. Such an understanding is useful to social scientists and philosophers alike, whether for utilitarian purposes or not.

At lunch one day a colleague and I had a friendly argument over occupational licensing. I attacked it for being anticompetitive, arguing that licensing boards raise occupational incomes by restricting entry, advertising, and commercialization. My colleague, while acknowledging anticompetitive aspects, affirmed the need for licensing on the grounds of protecting the consumer from frauds and quacks. In many areas of infrequent and specialized dealing, consumers are not able, ex ante or even ex post, to evaluate competence. I countered by suggesting voluntary means by which reputational problems might be handled and by returning to the offensive. I said that in fact the impetus for licensing usually comes from the practitioners, not their customers, and that licensing boards seldom devote their time to ferreting out incompetence but rather simply to prosecuting unlicensed practitioners. I mentioned cross-sectional findings, such as those on state licensure, prices, and occupational incomes. Overall, I characterized the professional establishment as a group of dastardly operators, who set the standards, write the codes, and enforce behavior to enhance their own material wellbeing - in brief, as venal rent-seekers.

The study of intrapersonal economic relations, or economics, is still at the programmatic stage. There is no generally accepted paradigm, or even as well-defined set of problems that constitute it as a subdiscipline within economics. Some questions are, however, emerging as foci of interest for a small but increasing number of writers, not just in economics, but also in psychology and philosophy. The writings of Thomas Schelling on self-management, of George Ainslie on self-control, and of Derik Parfit on personal identity testify to this convergence.

Are there worthwhile values and ideals which flourish in the procedures of the state but wither in the transactions of the market? Are there equitable and fulfilling social relationships which are nurtured in the economic sphere but crumble in the political world? There is clearly some truth in the claim that at least in certain circumstances market systems inculcate in people not only ‘honesty and diligence, but also sensitivity to the needs and preferences of others’ (Gray, 1992, p. 24). On the other hand, it is difficult to deny the appeal of a tradition of thought which attaches moral superiority to the non-market ideals and values epitomised in the gift relationship. Titmuss (1970), for example, objected to treating blood as a commodity in part because it undermined the sense of fraternity or community which a system of voluntary blood donors enhanced. A contemporary statement of this position holds that gift values differ from commodity values in being ‘tokens of love, admiration, respect, honor, and so forth, and consequently lose their value when they are provided for merely self-interested reasons’ (Anderson, 1990, p. 203).

Professor Hausman has written an interesting and instructive book. Though I am by no means favourably disposed to methodology for economists, (its results seem to have been pretty disastrous), I found reading Hausman enjoyable and I came away having learned things worth learning. But not all is well, largely because Hausman is a philosopher first and an economist a poor second. There are also important questions where one would have expected philosophic help which are not asked at all.

Many people believe that we have responsibility towards the distant future, but exactly how far this responsibility reaches and how we can find a reasonable ethical foundation for it has not been answered in any definitive manner. Future people have no power over us, they form no part of our moral community and it is unclear how we can represent them in a possible original position. All these problems can be circumvented when you take an impersonal decision criterion like maximizing total or average utility. Such a sum-ranking criterion is neutral with respect to distance in time or space: my utility, my neighbour's and that of our descendants all carry the same weight. This makes future people an integral part of present decisions. Time-neutrality was defended by, among others, Sidgwick, Pigou and Ramsey.