The modern threat of terrorism has brought to the masses a classic ethical problem: when faced with a dilemma in which, through harming one person, we could prevent harm to a greater number, what should we do? If, for example, the CIA has captured a terrorist, is it permissible for them (and, by extension, us) to torture him if the torture would result in the saving of innocent lives? This conundrum has brought about debate among armchair philosophers, some of whom take a consequentialist stance that the ends justify the means, while others see a deontological constraint — that torture is wrong regardless of any potential benefit. Those who take the deontological position argue we should never violate the right of one not to be harmed, even if doing so would prevent the violation of that same right for many. But is this type of deontological constraint rational? I will argue that it is, but first I will examine, and attempt to overcome, some reasons it may seem irrational.

In philosophical discourse, we find a simpler example of this problem: suppose the mafia rings you up and tells you they have five hostages, all of which they will kill, unless you kill one other person. If you kill the one, you have certainly violated her right not to be harmed. But if you do not act, the rights of the five hostages will certainly be violated by the mafia. This simplification avoids some of the complications of the terrorist example. In the mafia case, we make no assumption of the guilt or innocence of the one — but we assume the terrorist to be guilty. In the mafia case, the same fate will befall either the one or the many; the terrorist will only suffer torture, but his victims will suffer a violent death. The former seems more straightforward, but the complications of the latter highlight the strengths of the deontological constraint model.

Even under a system in which we value protecting the right against harm, those who take a consequentialist view might answer the mafia case by saying that the sum of the rights of the five not to be harmed outweigh the right of the one not to be harmed. It would be even easier for a consequentialist to make such an argument in the terrorist example. After all, the terrorist will only suffer torture, not death, and besides, is his right against harm not lessened by the fact that he set out to harm others?

Those who posit that a deontological constraint against harming another exists, as I do, are forced to set aside any biases arising from belief in the terrorist’s guilt, and to resist rationalizing torture because we believe it to be a “lesser” evil than the deaths it may prevent. The right against harm applies not just to the hypothetical innocent one, but to the guilty terrorist as well. But if our aim is to prevent the violation of rights, why then should we not prefer a course of action which will result in less overall violations of those rights — particularly when we will only violate the right of someone intent on committing greater violations? It seems irrational to allow the violation of the rights of the many merely to avoid violating the rights of one; however, this apparent irrationality is the result of an erroneous understanding of rights.

The consequentialist view depends on rights being things that can be summed with other rights to form a whole greater than its parts. Working under this belief, it would be irrational to say we ought not violate the rights of the one for the benefit of the many. And if rights can be added, it would stand that they could also be subtracted (or diminished), making the conclusion even stronger in the case of the terrorist, as one could argue, as I mentioned before, that the terrorist has less right against harm than the innocent people he threatens.

Viewing rights this way, as things subject to simple arithmetic, is problematic. It may be useful, then, to think of rights, if we must analogize to mathematics, as akin to the concept of infinity — you cannot add two infinities together, you cannot add to or subtract from infinity. Conceptually, infinity is difficult for laymen to grasp. As it turns out, the same is true of rights, which is why it is tempting to think of them in more concrete terms, as something like finite numbers. If rights cannot be added or subtracted, it also stands that rights, such as that against harm, cannot be augmented by acting morally or diminished by acting immorally. The constraint against harm exists in the same force for the terrorist as it does for the presumed innocent one the mafia wants us to kill.

If we think of rights as absolute — the rights of separate individuals cannot be summed to some greater whole or augmented or diminished — no longer is the belief in a deontological constraint against harm irrational. But why should we think of rights this way? Michael Otsuka wrote that one approach is to view rights as reflecting an elevated “moral status” of persons, deriving from the Kantian view that each person should be treated as an end and not merely as a means. Viewing rights through a consequentialists lens, where the rights of the individual may sometimes be sacrificed for the greater good, insinuates it is sometimes permissible to treat one as a means to some other end, outside herself. This implies a lesser moral status; one that is diminished, and therefore not absolute.

What, then, is the nature of this “higher moral status?” I see it as a reflection of personal sovereignty; the concept that we are rational, autonomous beings, and that we have a right in that autonomy. It is this belief that forms the basis for Kant’s view that humanity should only be treated as an end in itself, and never merely as means. But why is such treatment important? More specifically, why is it important that we respect the sovereignty — or, autonomy — of others?

I think the best argument can be reasoned from Kant’s categorical imperative, specifically the Formula of Universal Law, which states, “act only in accordance with that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it become a universal law.” If we consider the question of why we should respect the sovereignty of others, thereby refusing to violate the rights of others, with respect to this formula, we see that through reason alone we can come to the answer. If I were to will that it be universal law that anytime the rights of many can be protected by the violation of the rights of one, in such a case where I was the one whose rights stood to be violated, I must accept the violation. But I cannot rationally will that my rights be violated. If I consent to being killed so that five may live, my rights have not been violated, because lack of consent is an intrinsic feature of a violation of rights. But if I do not consent, then I have not truly willed that my rights should be violated, even if for the benefit of a larger number.

Through this path of reasoning, we see that rights are inviolable, and individual, and therefore it is impermissible to choose to violate the rights of one regardless of circumstances. It is not irrational to refuse to violate the rights of one, even if doing so would protect the rights of many; in fact, examining such situations through reason — in the context of the Formula of Universal Law — we can conclude that it is irrational to choose to violate the rights of the one, because we would be left in the predicament of accepting our fate when the mafia want us dead.