Value theory distinguishes between two basic types of claims: descriptive and evaluative. Descriptive claims simply state how the world is, reporting facts about the world or human conventions. These claims report facts without passing judgment. For instance, when we say that the speed of light is approximately 299,792,458 meters per second, we’re making a descriptive claim about a natural phenomenon. Similarly, stating that the speed limit on a particular highway is 60 miles per hour is a descriptive claim about a human convention. These statements describe reality as it is, without any inherent value judgment. We aren’t saying that the speed of light is a good or bad thing, or that it’s desirable or unfortunate. On the other hand, evaluative claims describe how someone thinks the world ought to be or what human conventions should be. They involve judgments about the desirability or worth of various states of affairs. Using the previous example, someone might think that a 60 mile per hour speed limit is too high or too low, and that it should be different—that’s an evaluative claim. Also, asserting that gay marriage should be legal or that a company should improve its product are evaluative claims. These statements go beyond mere description; they express opinions or judgments about how things should be, often based on moral, aesthetic, or practical considerations. We rely on both descriptive and evaluative claims when reasoning about morality.

Evaluative statements can be further categorized into different domains, each focusing on a particular aspect of human experience and judgment. Aesthetic values deal with judgments of beauty and artistic merit. When a real estate agent suggests adding a pillow of a certain color to a sofa to “make the room pop” when preparing to show a house to potential buyers, that person is making an aesthetic value judgment (and, in this case, because there’s also an economic motive, to sell the property, there are other value judgments in play as well). These kinds of judgments, while often subjective, play a crucial role in how we perceive and interact with the world around us. Prudential values, on the other hand, concern well-being and personal welfare. When a friend comes to you for advice about a job they’re thinking about taking when they have more than one offer, and you suggest choosing the one that gives more vacation time, or when a friend suggests that regular exercise will improve your quality of life, we’re making prudential value judgments. These judgments are based on considerations of what’s best for an individual’s overall well-being. Moral values, perhaps the most complex and contentious category, involve judgments about right and wrong, good and bad. When we assert that people should not steal from others or that individuals should support their local communities, we’re making moral value judgments. These judgments often have far-reaching implications, affecting not just individuals but entire societies.

In these discussions of values, philosophers make a distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic worth. Intrinsic values are those that are valuable for their own sake, as ends in themselves. Happiness and pleasure, for instance, are often considered intrinsic values by philosophers like Aristotle and John Stuart Mill. We want these things not because they’ll help us get something else, but because we want them for themselves. Extrinsic values, unlike intrinsic ones, are valuable because they help us get something else we want. That is, extrinsic values get their worth from their ability to bring about some other, more fundamental value. For example, most people understand money to be an extrinsic value; we want or desire it not for its own sake, but for what we can do with it. One way that philosophers have debated these issues is to distinguish between value monism and value pluralism. Value monism holds that there is only one fundamental intrinsic value, and all other values derive from it. Value pluralism argues that there are two or more intrinsic values that cannot be reduced to or derived from the others.

Moral Values

Focusing specifically on moral values, some people argue that they have unique characteristics that set them apart from other types of values. Moral values are typically considered to be universal, that is, they are understood to apply to everyone, everywhere, regardless of cultural or personal differences. They are also impartial, that is, no individual or group is favored over others. And, moral values are normative; they don’t just describe how things are, but prescribe how things ought to be. That is, to return to the material above, these are definitely evaluative and not descriptive judgments. This normative or prescriptive nature gives moral values a special kind of authority in our decision-making processes. When we recognize something as a moral value, that fact means that value has weight and importance in our thinking about what to do. Moral values are also motivating. Once someone understands or believes that some action has an important moral status, that often will compel them to either do something or refrain from doing something. Finally, moral values are affective: they tend to influence our emotional lives and feelings. They can shape our emotional responses to situations and behaviors. Someone might literally feel disgusted by something they think of as immoral, or they might physically feel like they should move away from something they think of as wrong, even if they’re not directly affected by them.

Challenges in Evaluative Reasoning

Since values are often believed to be subjective and not objective, this presents a significant challenge in evaluative reasoning. Unlike descriptive claims, which we can verify empirically, value judgments aren’t so easy to prove of confirm. People can have authentic disagreements about values while agreeing on all the descriptive facts of a situation. This issue with subjectivity has led some philosophers to try to reduce all moral properties to natural ones, hoping to make ethics into something more objective with scientifically verifiable facts. For instance, classical utilitarianism seems to try to reduce the concept of ‘good’ to pleasure or happiness. And, even if different things make different people happy, it might be possible to measure happiness by checking someone’s hormone levels or neurological states. However, this approach faces its own set of criticisms. G.E. Moore, near the beginning of the 20th century, offered something that is called the Open Question Argument. This argument basically says that we cannot actually reduce morality to something entirely natural. The argument can be expressed rather simply. Suppose someone tries to define “good” as “what is pleasurable,” like a classical utilitarian might. We can ask them “Is what is pleasurable truly good?” You’ll notice that this question doesn’t really get settled by the definition, implying that “good” and “pleasurable” are not synonymous.

Another easy mistake in moral reasoning is to try to derive evaluative facts solely from descriptive ones. David Hume, a philosopher of the 1700’s, is recognized as the philosopher who best described what philosophers call the is-ought problem. The problem occurs when people try to draw conclusions about what ought to be the case based only on statements about what is the case. Hume pointed out that there’s a gap between descriptive premises and evaluative conclusions. For example, even if it’s true that greenhouse gas emissions are responsible for some of global warming, that fact alone cannot, by itself, be a reason to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. To bridge the gap, Hume pointed out, we need at least one evaluative premise in our reasoning. So, in the example case, we’d need a premise that a warmer planet is harmful. This might seem like a small insight, but it actually has profoundly affected how we approach moral arguments and ethical reasoning. If we’re going to argue that something should be changed, or that someone should behave in a certain way, we have to include, in the premises of our argument to support that conclusion, something other than purely factual premises.