PREFACE

My project in this book is to argue for what, subject to some important departures, I will call an "Aristotelian" perspective against various "Kantian" views. Though there will be plenty of detailed argument in the text, here I would like to provide some autobiographical thoughts that might help the reader to understand something of the soul of this book. When I was an adolescent in the late 1950s and early 1960s growing up in the cotton mill villages of South Carolina, I somehow came across Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird . I can't really remember what possessed me to read the book, but I did; and I have not been the same person since. Anyone familiar with the Deep South at that time and with that book should know why. The experience began a process that continues to this day, a process in search of moral coherence where innocence has been lost. Much later in my life, with much less innocence and a great deal more complexity, I discovered Kant, who for a long time seemed to restore equilibrium. But innocence lost is never regained and coherence restored is always only partial and often temporary. One of the events (there were several) that crystallized my disaffection with Kant was the discovery of another work of fiction, William Styron's Sophie's Choice This book has left an indelible impression on me, much of which is expressed in my book Dignity and Vulnerability . Reading Styron led me to think more deeply about moral luck, to the current philosophical literature on that topic, and to read Aristotle again. This led me even farther away from Kant and to the views expressed here in Agentcentered Morality . What does not get fully expressed in this book is how my discovery and appreciation of the work of Isaiah Berlin, especially his objective pluralism, require me to reject some central theses of Aristotle. The implications of my analysis clearly show that there are plural and conflicting values that can come into conflict in irreconcilable and tragic ways,

ways that I do not believe Aristotle fully appreciated. But I do not here show or attempt to show that there might be persons whose quality of character is both different from and incommensurable with the kind of character I think many of us want most to be like. I do think there are such persons. Nor do I discuss the Aristotelian doctrine of the unity of the virtues, a doctrine that I believe is incompatible both with the facts regarding the plurality of human valuing and with the facts regarding the neurological possibilities for members of our species. I say all this because I have come to Berlin late but can already tell that reading him at this much later point in my life is like having read To Kill a Mockingbird so many years ago. I just do not yet know how much Berlin's thought will affect my adjustments to a fundamentally Aristotelian way of seeing things. Perhaps in the future I will write a book that will reveal that I can reconcile what I think is right about Berlin's pluralism with what I think is right about Aristotle's ethics. Or perhaps, though far less likely, I will write a book that will reveal yet another transition of a deeper kind that leaves both Kant and Aristotle behind. Though it might seem odd to preface a book ten years in the writing with a cautionary note of this sort, I hope it reflects some honesty and some reassurance to those who find themselves involved in similar struggles to understand and appreciate the complexities of life. Agent-centered Morality is, I believe, a mature book, but it does not represent the end of the process or a final coherence. Under Berlin's influence, I have come to doubt that there is such a thing.

One of the special difficulties involved in writing a book is the task of defining its parameters. This is motivated in part by the simple desire to finish. But if this were the only motivational current at work, the task would be easy. One could just quit with the desire to move on. The agony begins, however, at the confluence of the desire for closure and myriad other concerns. Among them are the desires for rigorous argumentation, thoroughness of analysis, felicitous presentation, and fairness to one's rivals. Any good writer or thinker is deeply committed to all these things, and being committed to all is what makes being a writer so very difficult. Nevertheless, the one feature of a book that is not contingent, if it is to find its way to readers, is that it must come to an end. On the other hand, a book can lack some rigor of argumentation; it can lack completeness of analysis; it can tolerate a good deal of infelicitous expression; and, as we all know, it can be very unfair to its rivals. The various motivational factors involved in the desire to finish are diverse, and some are more pressing than others. Death approaches, your children want and need your affection, papers require grading, the joys and duties of citizenship beckon, and there are

fish yet to be caught. So if one is to do these other things and finish the book, one must do the best one can under the circumstances. I have tried to be true to these commitments, especially regarding fairness to my rivals. Doubtless my depiction of the opposition could in some cases be more detailed. But at some point more detail regarding the thoughts of others runs against the current of the desire to state one's own. My apologies, then, where I have not dealt with others as I might were we not all walled in by space and time.

I am extremely grateful to Ed Dimendberg, the philosophy editor at the University of California Press, for his interest in my work. The production of my previous book, Dignity and Vulnerability , was simply superb. An author could not ask for more professional treatment than I have received from Ed and the people at California. I am especially grateful to Cindy Fulton, production editor, and to Sheila Berg, copy editor, for their excellent work.

Many others have contributed in both direct and indirect ways to the manuscript. Paul Davies, more than anyone else, has been a constant sounding board and reliable critic. Greg Baier, Larry Becker, E.J. "Ted" Bond, Douglas Browning, Keith Butler, Tony Cunningham, Dwight Furrow, Brie Gertler, James Harris, Robert Kane, James Klagge, Mark Katz, Steven Leighton, Noah Lemos, and John Sisko are all due special thanks, as are the referees for the Press. I wish also to thank Marcia Baron and Christine Korsgaard for answering some questions by email regarding their work. To my students at the College of William and Mary who have made many valuable contributions to my work, I am enormously grateful, as I am to Debbie Wilson, the department secretary, who has been an utterly reliable resource. I wish also to thank the College of William and Mary for two research leaves to complete this project. And to many others I have failed to mention, I express my heartfelt gratitude.

During the period in which this book was written, three of the most important events of my life transpired. I married my wife, Patty, and my two daughters, Rachel and Jenny, were born. It is to the three of them that this book is dedicated.