Final term paper

What Money Can’t Buy:

The Moral Limits of Markets

MICHAEL J. SANDEL

The Tanner Lectures on Human Values

Delivered at

Brasenose College, Oxford May 11 and 12, 1998

Michael J. Sandel is professor of government at Har- vard University, where he has taught political philosophy in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences since 1980. He was ed- ucated at Brandeis University and received his Ph.D. from Balliol College, Oxford University, where he was a Rhodes Scholar. He is a member of the National Constitution Center Advisory Panel, the Rhodes Scholarship Commit- tee of Selection, the Shalom Hartman Institute of Jewish Philosophy, and the Council on Foreign Relations. He has received fellowships from the Ford Foundation, the Amer- ican Council of Learned Societies, and the National En- dowment for the Humanities. He is the author, most recently, of Democracy’s Discontent: America in Search of a Public Philosophy (1996), as well as Liberalism and Its Critics (1984) and Liberalism and the Limits of Justice (1982).

LECTURE I. COMMODIFICATION, COMMERCIALIZATION,

AND PRIVATIZATION

1. Tipping the Tutor

It is a great honor and pleasure to be back at Oxford to give these lectures. It takes me back to the time when I Šrst arrived here as a graduate student twenty-two years ago. There was a welcoming dinner for new students at Balliol. The Master at the time was Christopher Hill, the renowned Marxist historian. In his welcom- ing remarks he recalled his early days at Oxford as a young tutor, and he told us of his dutiful, but somewhat patronizing, upper- class students, one of whom left him a Šve-pound tip at the end of term.

Hill’s point, I think, was that times had changed. We were not supposed to tip our tutors. Not that the thought had ever occurred to me before he mentioned it. But it does raise an interesting ques- tion: Why not? What is wrong with tipping the tutor? Nothing perhaps, if the tutor is an economist. After all, according to many economists, and also non-economists in the grip of economic ways of thinking, money is always a good way of allocating goods, or, I suppose, of expressing thanks.

I assume that Christopher Hill disapproved of the tip because he viewed the monetary payment as an indignity, as a failure to regard teaching with the proper respect. But not everybody views money and teaching in this way. Adam Smith, for one, did not. He saw nothing wrong with compensating university teach- ers according to market principles. Smith thought that teachers should be paid according to the number of students their classes attracted. For colleges and universities to pay teachers a Šxed

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salary, Smith wrote, is a recipe for laziness, especially where col- leges and universities are self-governing. Under such conditions the members of the college are likely “to be all very indulgent to one another, and every man to consent that his neighbor may ne- glect his duty, provided he himself is allowed to neglect his own.”1

Where do you suppose Smith found the clearest example of the sloth induced by Šxed salaries? “In the University of Oxford, the greater part of the . . . professors have, for these many years, given up altogether even the pretence of teaching.”2

These two different views of money and teaching, Christopher Hill’s and Adam Smith’s, bring me to the question these lectures seek to address: Are there some things that money can’t buy? My answer: sadly, fewer and fewer. Today, markets and market-like practices are extending their reach in almost every sphere of life.

Consider books. It used to be that the books in the window of the bookshop, or on the display table at the front of the store, were there because someone in the store—the manager or buyer or pro- prietor—considered these books to be of special interest or impor- tance to prospective readers. Today, that is less and less the case. Publishers now pay bookstores, especially the big chain book- stores, tens of thousands of dollars for placement of their books in windows or other prominent places. I don’t know whether this is yet the case with Blackwell’s. I pray not.

But in many U.S. bookstores, the books you see up front, even the books that are turned face out on the shelves, are titles that the publisher has paid the store to display. It has long been the case that makers of pretzels, potato chips, and breakfast cereals have paid grocery store chains for favorable shelf space. Now, thanks

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1 Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations (1776), book 5, ch. 1, pt. 3 (New York: Modern Library, 1994), p. 821.

2 Ibid.

partly to the rise of powerful superstores like Barnes and Noble, books are sold like breakfast cereal.3

Is there anything wrong with this? Suppose, under the tradi- tional system, you go into a bookstore and look around for a book you have written, something that authors have been known to do. And you Šnd your cherished work on some obscure lower shelf at the back of the store. Imagine that you bribe the owner of the store to put it in the window. If it is a bribe when you make this ar- rangement, is it any less a bribe when Random House does it to boost sales of really important authors, like O. J. Simpson or Newt Gingrich?

Consider a second example—prisons. Once the province of government, the incarceration of criminals is now a proŠtable and rapidly growing business. Since the mid-1980s, more and more governments have entrusted their inmates to the care of for-proŠt companies. In the United States, the private prison business is now a billion-dollar industry. Twenty-seven states and the federal government have contracted with private companies like the Cor- rections Corporation of America to house their prisoners. In the mid-eighties when the trend began, scarcely a thousand prisoners occupied private prisons. Today, more than 85,000 U.S. inmates are serving time in for-proŠt prisons. And the trend has spread to Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, France, the Nether- lands, and South Africa.4

Or consider a third example, the growing trend toward brand- ing, marketing, and commercial advertising in spheres that once stood aloof from market practices. Once, “rebranding” was a device employed by companies that needed to change the image of a tired product line. Today, we hear of efforts by the Blair government to

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 91

3 Mary B. W. Tabor, “In Bookstore Chains, Display Space Is for Sale,” New York Times, January 15, 1996, p. A1.

4 Nzong Xiong, “Private Prisons: A Question of Savings,” New York Times, July 13, 1997.

“rebrand” Britain as “one of the world’s pioneers rather than one of its museums.” As the American media has reported, “Rule Britan- nia” is giving way to “Cool Britannia,” the new slogan of the Brit- ish Travel Authority.5

The rebranding of Britain is not an isolated episode, but a sign of the times.6 Last year the U.S. Postal Service issued a stamp of Bugs Bunny, a cartoon character. Critics complained that stamps should honor historic Šgures, not commercial products. But the post ofŠce is facing stiff competition from e-mail, fax machines, and Federal Express. So it now sees licensing rights as key to its future.

Every Bugs Bunny stamp that is bought for the love of it, rather than used to mail an envelope, earns thirty-two cents proŠt for the post ofŠce. And stamp collecting is the least of it. The li- censing deal with Warner Brothers enables the Postal Service to market Looney Tunes ties, hats, videos, and other products at its Šve hundred postal stores across the country.7

Canada has also encountered the licensing craze. In 1995, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police sold to Disney the right to mar- ket the Mountie image worldwide. Disney paid Canada’s federal police $2.5 million per year in marketing rights, plus a share of the licensing fees for Mountie T-shirts, coffee mugs, teddy bears, maple syrup, diaper bags, and other merchandise. Many Canadi- ans objected. They claimed the Mounties were selling out a sacred national symbol to a U.S. corporate giant. “It’s not the price that rankles. It’s the sale,” complained an editorial in Toronto’s Globe and Mail. “The Mounted Police have miscalculated on a crucial point. Pride.”8

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5 Warren Hoge, “London Journal; Blair’s ‘Rebranded’ Britain Is No Museum,” New York Times, November 12, 1997.

6 In this and the following three paragraphs, I draw upon Sandel, “Branded,” New Republic, January 19, 1998, pp. 10–11.

7 Nathan Cobb, “Trading Post,” Boston Globe, December 20, 1997, pp. D1, D3. 8 Colin Nickerson, “Canadian Mounties Sign with Disney,” Boston Globe, July 15,

1995, p. 2.

The effect of the increasing commingling of government and commerce is more far reaching than one might imagine, in part because it works so well. Government, widely disliked, seeks to bolster its popularity, even its legitimacy, by leaning on popular images or icons of the commercial culture. Amidst widespread mistrust of government and dissatisfaction with politics, pollsters have found that the two most popular agencies of the U.S. federal government are the post ofŠce and the military. Not coinciden- tally, perhaps, both advertise heavily on television.

Not only governments, but also universities have gone into the business of licensing their brand names. In the late 1980s, Har- vard University established a trademark and licensing ofŠce to monitor the commercial use of Harvard’s name. One of its jobs is to crack down on unauthorized users, such as the poultry company in Korea that sold “Harvard” eggs in a carton that displayed a mortarboard and the promise that eating the eggs will make you as smart as somebody who goes to Harvard.9

Harvard’s excuse for being in the licensing business is that a trademark must be used to be protected. So Harvard has been us- ing it. In Japan, it licensed a line of clothing and accessories with the Harvard name, including horn-rimmed eyeglasses, khaki pants, and preppie blazers. So popular were these items that Japan- ese royalties brought Harvard as much as $550,000 in one year. The competition is not far behind. Princeton has also opened up a product line in Japan.10

These three cases—the commodiŠcation of books, the privati- zation of prisons, the commercialization of governments and uni- versities—illustrate one of the most powerful social and political tendencies of our time, namely the extension of markets and of market-oriented thinking to spheres of life once thought to lie be- yond their reach.

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 93

9 “Harvard Eggs? Protecting the Name,” Harvard Magazine ( January–February 1998): 72.

10 Ibid., p. 73.

I’d like to argue in these lectures that this tendency is by and large a bad thing, a development that should be resisted. In ex- plaining why this is so I would like to distinguish two objections to extending the reach of market valuation and exchange. Both Šgure prominently in arguments about the moral limits of mar- kets. But they are often run together, and it is important to disen- tangle them.

2. Two Objections: Coercion and Corruption

The Šrst objection is an argument from coercion. It points to the injustice that can arise when people buy and sell things under con- ditions of severe inequality or dire economic necessity. According to this objection, market exchanges are not necessarily as volun- tary as market enthusiasts suggest. A peasant may agree to sell his kidney or cornea in order to feed his starving family, but his agree- ment is not truly voluntary. He is coerced, in effect, by the neces- sities of his situation.

The second objection is an argument from corruption. It points to the degrading effect of market valuation and exchange on cer- tain goods and practices. According to this objection, certain moral and civic goods are diminished or corrupted if bought and sold for money. The argument from corruption cannot be met by establishing fair bargaining conditions. If the sale of human body parts is intrinsically degrading, a violation of the sanctity of the human body, then kidney sales would be wrong for rich and poor alike. The objection would hold even without the coercive effect of crushing poverty.

Each objection draws on a different moral ideal. The argument from coercion draws on the ideal of consent, or more precisely, the ideal of consent carried out under fair background conditions. It is not, strictly speaking, an objection to markets, only to markets that operate against a background of inequality severe enough to

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create coercive bargaining conditions. The argument from coer- cion offers no grounds for objecting to the commodiŠcation of goods in a society whose background conditions are fair.

The argument from corruption is different. It appeals not to consent but to the moral importance of the goods at stake, the ones said to be degraded by market valuation and exchange. The argument from corruption is intrinsic in the sense that it cannot be met by Šxing the background conditions within which market exchanges take place. It applies under conditions of equality and inequality alike.

Consider two familiar objections to prostitution. Some object to prostitution on the grounds that it is rarely, if ever, truly volun- tary. According to this argument, those who sell their bodies for sex are typically coerced, whether by poverty, drug addiction, or other unfortunate life circumstances. Others object that prostitu- tion is intrinsically degrading, a corruption of the moral worth of human sexuality. The degradation objection does not depend on tainted consent. It would condemn prostitution even in a society without poverty and despair, even in cases of wealthy prostitutes who like the work and freely choose it.

My point is not to argue for or against prostitution, but simply to illustrate the difference between the two objections and also to illustrate the further part of my claim, which is that the second objection is not reducible to the Šrst. The worry about corruption cannot be laid to rest simply by establishing fair background con- ditions. Even in a society without unjust differences of power and wealth, there would still be things that money should not buy.

I shall try to argue, in the remainder of these lectures, for the independence of the second objection. I hope also to show that it is more fundamental than the Šrst. I shall proceed by considering a range of cases. Before turning to the cases, however, I want to em- phasize an important qualiŠcation. Even if it can be shown that a particular good should not be bought or sold, it is a further ques- tion whether the sale of that good should be legally prohibited.

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 95

There may well be cases in which commodiŠcation is morally ob- jectionable and yet, all things considered, the practice should not be banned. Prohibition may carry moral and practical costs that outweigh the good of preventing the practice. And there may be other, better ways of discouraging it. My question is not what forms of commodiŠcation should be legally restricted but what forms of commodiŠcation are morally objectionable. The moral status of a contested commodity should Šgure as one consider- ation among others in determining its legal permissibility.

3. The Case of Surrogate Motherhood

Having distinguished two different arguments against commod- iŠcation, I now turn to one hotly contested case, that of commer- cial surrogacy. Contracts for “surrogate motherhood,” as the practice is commonly known, typically involve a couple unable to conceive or bear a child, and a woman who agrees, in exchange for a fee, to be inseminated with the sperm of the father, to carry the child to term, and to give it up at birth.

Some argue that commercial surrogacy represents an objec- tionable kind of commodiŠcation. How can such claims be as- sessed? Many arguments about commodiŠcation proceed by way of analogy. Those who oppose contracts for surrogate motherhood argue that they are morally tantamount to baby-selling. With commercial surrogacy as with baby-selling, a woman is paid a fee (typically $10,000 in the surrogacy market), in exchange for relin- quishing a child.

Defenders of commercial surrogacy must either resist the anal- ogy or defend both practices. Those who dispute the analogy argue that commercial surrogacy is more like selling sperm than selling a baby; when a woman agrees to undergo a pregnancy for pay, she does not sell a preexisting child but simply allows another couple to make use of her reproductive capacity. And if it is morally per-

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missible for men to sell their reproductive capacity, this argument goes, why is it not morally permissible for women to sell theirs?

I would like to consider both of those analogies. Each can help clarify the moral status of commercial surrogacy. As is often the case with reasoning by analogy, however, we may Šnd that the in- tuitions that constitute our moral starting point do not emerge unscathed. Rešecting on the rights and wrongs of surrogacy may lead us to revise our initial views about the moral status of baby- selling and of sperm-selling.

In some cases, baby-selling may actually be better than con- tract pregnancy. Consider the following case, a true story, reported last year in the New York Times: Dr. Thomas J. Hicks was a country doctor in a small Georgia town. He had a secret business selling babies on the side. Jane Blasio, now a thirty-two-year-old Ohio resident, was one of those babies. In 1965, her adoptive parents, a tire maker and his wife, drove eight hours from Akron, Ohio, paid the doctor $1,000, and drove home with a new baby daughter. In- cluded in the purchase price was a fake birth certiŠcate listing the buyers as the birth parents.11

Mrs. Blasio discovered Dr. Hicks’s sideline business while combing through country birth records many years later, search- ing for the identity of her birth mother. It turns out that the doc- tor, who died in 1972, sold some 200 babies between 1951 and 1965.

Baby-selling is not normally a respectable business, but Dr. Hicks’s version did have a morally redeeming aspect. Childless couples were not his only clientele. Unmarried pregnant girls from Chattanooga to Atlanta also made their way to his clinic in the north Georgia mountains. Abortions were illegal at the time, but Dr. Hicks was known to perform them. Sometimes he persuaded

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 97

11 The remarkable story of Dr. Hicks was reported by Rick Bragg, “Town Secret Is Uncovered in Birth Quest,” New York Times, August 23, 1997, pp. A1, A7. I draw, in the discussion that follows, on Sandel, “Baby Bazaar,” New Republic, October 20, 1997, p. 25.

the young women to carry their babies to term, which created the supply that met the demand of his childless customers.

It is difŠcult to condemn the doctor’s morally complicated practice. It can be argued that the moral wrong of selling a child was outweighed in his case by the moral good of avoiding an abor- tion and placing an unwanted child with loving parents. In any case, compare Dr. Hicks’s black market in babies with contempo- rary commercial surrogate motherhood.

Compared to Dr. Hicks’s homespun enterprise, commercial surrogacy, a $40 million industry in the United States, is big busi- ness. Professional baby brokers advertise for couples who want a child and also for women willing to give birth through artiŠcial insemination for pay. The broker draws up a contract specifying the payment to the birth mother, typically $10,000 plus medical expenses. She agrees to be impregnated with the father’s sperm, to carry the pregnancy to term, and to relinquish the child and all parental rights. For his efforts, the broker collects a $15,000 fee, bringing the cost per child to more than $25,000.

Like all commercial contracts, surrogacy promises beneŠts to both parties. Infertile couples can acquire a baby who bears the ge- netic imprint of the father and raise it as their own. Surrogate mothers, meanwhile, can earn $10,000 for nine months’ work and give the gift of life to a grateful couple.

But contract pregnancy does not always work out so happily. Sometimes the surrogate mother changes her mind and wants to keep the baby. That is what happened in the celebrated “Baby M case,” a surrogacy case that went to court in New Jersey.12

The surrogate mother, Mary Beth Whitehead, šed to Florida with her baby rather than surrender it to William and Elizabeth Stern. They were the couple who had paid her to conceive it. A lower court in New Jersey ruled that the contract was valid. A deal was a deal, and the birth mother had no right to break the agree-

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12 In re Baby M., 217 New Jersey Superior Court, 313, 1987.

ment simply because she changed her mind. The New Jersey Su- preme Court disagreed, however, and invalidated the contract. It granted custody to the father, Mr. Stern, but voided the adoption by his wife and declared Mrs. Whitehead the legal mother, enti- tled to visiting rights.13

On what grounds did the respective courts justify their rulings? The lower court argued, implausibly in my view, that in contract- ing with Mrs. Whitehead, Mr. Stern did not really buy a baby—he had, after all, contributed the sperm—but simply hired a woman to perform a service for a wage. But this strained distinction over- looks the fact that the contract not only required Mrs. Whitehead to bear the child: it also required that she renounce her parental rights. In fact, the contract even included a product guarantee: If the baby were born abnormal, the Sterns would not have to take it, though they would be obliged to provide Šnancial support.

The New Jersey Supreme Court invalidated the contract and compared commercial surrogacy to baby-selling: “This is the sale of a child, or at the very least, the sale of a mother’s right to her child, the only mitigating factor being that one of the purchasers is the father.”14 But if contract pregnancy is morally equivalent to baby-selling, the question remains whether our repugnance to baby-selling is well founded. What is wrong with letting people buy and sell babies if they choose?

There are two possible answers to this question, answers that take us back to the two objections to commodiŠcation in general. One answer worries about coercion or other šaws in the act of con- sent, while the other worries about corruption of the moral goods and social norms associated with pregnancy, childbearing, and parenthood.

Those who oppose surrogacy and baby-selling in the name of consent claim that the choice to bear a child for pay is not as

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 99

13 Matter of Baby M, 537 Atlantic Reporter, 2d series, 1227 (New Jersey 1988). 14 Ibid., p. 1248.

voluntary as it seems. They argue that surrogacy contracts are not truly voluntary because the birth mother is unlikely to be fully in- formed. Since she cannot be expected to know in advance the strength of the bond she will develop with her child during preg- nancy, it is unfair to hold her to her bargain once the baby is born.

In the Baby M case, the lawyers for the Sterns argued that Mary Beth Whitehead’s consent was informed because she had had pre- vious children of her own. But it is not clear that previous preg- nancies supply the knowledge relevant to a surrogacy contract. The distinctive feature of such a contract is that it requires a woman to bear a child and then relinquish it. Bearing a child to love and raise as one’s own does not necessarily inform a woman about what it would be like to bear a child and give it up for money.

The second objection to surrogacy contracts does not depend on Šnding a šaw in the act of consent. It holds that even a truly voluntary, fully informed agreement to sell a baby lacks moral force because certain things should not be bought and sold. This was the position of the New Jersey Supreme Court, which stated, “There are, in a civilized society, some things that money cannot buy.”15 This argument maintains that we should not regard our- selves as free to assign whatever values we want to the goods we prize. Certain modes of valuation are appropriate to certain goods. Treating children as commodities degrades them by using them as instruments of proŠt rather than cherishing them as persons wor- thy of love and care. Contract pregnancy also degrades women by treating their bodies as factories and by paying them not to bond with the children they bear.

Elizabeth Anderson advances a compelling version of this ar- gument. “By requiring the surrogate mother to repress whatever parental love she feels for the child,” Anderson writes, surrogacy contracts “convert women’s labor into a form of alienated labor.”

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15 Ibid., p. 1249.

The surrogate’s labor is alienated “because she must divert it from the end which the social practices of pregnancy rightly promote— an emotional bond with her child.”16

Anderson’s argument brings out a controversial feature of the corruption argument against commodiŠcation. To object that market valuation and exchange of a good corrupts its character is to assume that certain things are properly regarded and treated in certain ways. Thus Anderson invokes a certain conception of the proper end of pregnancy and childbearing. To know whether a good should be subject to market exchange, according to this view, we need to know what mode of valuation is Štting or appro- priate to that good. This is different from knowing how much the thing is worth. It involves a qualitative, not just a quantitative judgment.

Such judgments are bound to be controversial, even threaten- ing. Part of the appeal of markets is that they do not pass judg- ment on the intrinsic worth of the things people buy and sell. Different people evaluate goods differently, and the market leaves them free to act on their own valuations. It is sometimes thought to be an advantage of consent-based objections to commodiŠca- tion that,unlike the argument from corruption,they avoid passing judgment on the intrinsic worth of the things being exchanged or the modes of valuation appropriate to them.

Despite this apparent advantage, however, the consent-based argument fails to address the most morally troubling features of commercial surrogacy. For it is precisely the deliberate, voluntary character of contract pregnancy that makes it worse than some instances of baby-selling. Dr. Hicks’s black market in babies re- sponded to a problem that arose independent of market considera- tions. He didn’t encourage the unwed mothers whose babies he sold to become pregnant in the Šrst place. Had he done so, had he advertised and recruited the women to become pregnant, bear a

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 101

16 Elizabeth S. Anderson, “Is Women’s Labor a Commodity?” Philosophy & Public Affairs 19 (Winter 1990): 81, 83.

child, and give it up for money, then his baby-selling business would be far more objectionable than it was. It would be as objec- tionable as the commercial surrogacy business carried on today in full public view.

The argument from corruption, which draws our attention to modes of valuation appropriate to certain goods and social prac- tices, may also prompt us to reconsider the moral implications of the analogy between surrogacy and sperm-selling. This analogy is typically invoked in defense of surrogacy. If men should be free to sell their reproductive capacity, the argument goes, shouldn’t women also be free to sell theirs? Isn’t it unfair, isn’t it discrimina- tory, to allow one but not the other?

Here may be a case where, on rešection, the moral force of the analogy works in the other direction. If, prompted by the surro- gacy case, we conclude that certain modes of valuation are proper or Štting to certain kinds of goods, we may come to question the moral permissibility of sperm sales. Such qualms are heightened by the brazen way in which the market for sperm has become commercialized.

From time to time, there appears in the Harvard student news- paper, the Crimson, an advertisement stating that “the largest sperm bank in the United States is looking for donors.” Those who qualify are promised thirty-Šve dollars per specimen, up to three times a week. For relatively little effort, eligible Harvard men can make $105 per week selling sperm.

It is no accident that Cryobank, Inc., locates its sperm banks near Harvard and MIT in the east and Stanford and Berkeley in the west. Its marketing materials play up the prestigious source of its sperm. A monthly catalog offers customers a physical and ethnic proŠle of each donor, including his major Šeld of study. “It’s not the Sears, Roebuck catalog,” a company manager told the Boston Globe, “but it’s a place to start.”17

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17 Sally Jacobs, “Wanted: Smart Sperm,” Boston Globe, September 12, 1993, pp. 1, 39.

The marketing of Ivy League sperm commodiŠes the male re- productive capacity in much the way commercial surrogacy com- modiŠes pregnancy. Both treat procreation as a product for proŠt rather than a human capacity to be exercised according to norms of love, intimacy, and responsibility. A further example illustrates the point.

Several years ago there was a scandal surrounding a doctor named Cecil Jacobson, an infertility specialist in Virginia. He didn’t have a donor catalog. Unknown to his patients, all of the sperm he used to inseminate his patients came from one donor— Dr. Jacobson himself. Genetic testing proved that at least Šfteen of the babies conceived at his clinic bore his genetic imprint. Col- umnist Ellen Goodman described the bizarre scenario: “Had his patients known what was happening between the time the doctor left the examining room and his return with a vial of sperm, I sus- pect they would have leapt off the table. At least one woman who testiŠed in court was unnerved at how much her newborn daugh- ter ‘looks just like him.’”18

It is possible, of course, to condemn Dr. Jacobson for failing to inform the women in advance. But Goodman glimpsed another moral of the story: “The clamor over this case comes in part from a change in attitudes towards fathers. We are, Šnally, uneasy, about the disconnection between men, sperm, and fatherhood. We are trying to strengthen the lines between male sexuality and respon- sibility, fathers and children. Dr. Jacobson gave his infertility business the, uh, personal touch. Now the rest of us are in for a round of second thoughts on sperm donation.” Perhaps, Goodman concludes, fatherhood should be something you do, not some- thing you donate.19

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18 Ellen Goodman, “The Father of Them All,” March 3, 1992, reprinted in Good- man, Value Judgments (New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 1993), pp. 309–11.

19 Ibid., p. 311.

4. Plurality and Commensurability

The argument from corruption has a distinctive feature that holds consequences for the way the debate about commodiŠcation should proceed. Unlike the argument from coercion, the argu- ment from corruption will be different in each case. The reason is as follows: The argument from coercion always appeals to the ideal of consent, whereas the argument from corruption appeals to the character of the particular good in question. In the cases of surro- gacy, baby-selling, and sperm-selling, the ideals at stake are bound up with the meaning of motherhood, fatherhood, and the nurturing of children. Once we characterize the good at stake, it is always a further question whether, or in what respect, market val- uation and exchange diminishes or corrupts the character of that good.

Although the goods at stake will vary, it is nonetheless possible to identify one general feature of arguments from corruption that are leveled against commodiŠcation: All call into question an as- sumption that informs much market-oriented thinking. This is the assumption that all goods are commensurable, that all goods can be translated without loss into a single measure or unit of value.

The thesis that all goods are commensurable is familiar from at least some versions of utilitarianism, notably Benthamite utilitar- ianism. All arguments from corruption against commodiŠcation resist this claim. It does not seem to me possible, in general, to prove or refute the thesis of commensurability, which is one of the reasons that arguments by analogy play such an important role in debates about commodiŠcation. But it is reasonable to question the idea that all goods can be captured in a single measure of value, and to illustrate this doubt, I would like to close this lecture with one other story that I remember from the days, over two decades ago, when I was studying here in Oxford.

Back in those days, the men’s colleges and the women’s col-

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leges were not yet mixed. And the women’s colleges had rules against overnight male guests. These rules were rarely enforced and easily violated, or so I was told. But by the late 1970s, pres- sure grew to relax these rules and it became a subject of debate among the faculty at St. Anne’s College. The older women on the faculty were traditionalists. They were opposed to change on con- ventional moral grounds. But times had changed, and they were embarrassed to state the real grounds for their objection. So they tried to translate their argument into utilitarian terms.

If men stay overnight, they argued, the costs to the college will increase. How, you might wonder? Well, they said, they’ll want to take baths, and that will use up hot water. Furthermore, they ar- gued, we’ll have to replace the mattresses more often. (This is a true story.) The reformers met these arguments by adopting the following compromise: Each woman could have a maximum of three male overnight guests a week, provided that the guest paid Šfty pence a night to defray the costs to the college. The day after the compromise was adopted, the headline in the Guardian read, “St. Anne’s Girls: Fifty Pence a Night.” It wasn’t long before the parietal rules were waived altogether, and so was the fee. But the story calls into question the thesis that all goods are commensu- rable, that all values and virtues can be translated without loss into monetary terms. That is a thesis that the argument from corrup- tion also rejects.

LECTURE II. MARKETS, MORALS, AND THE PUBLIC SPHERE

1. Objections to the Argument from Corruption

The argument that commodiŠcation corrupts or degrades certain goods raises two difŠculties that do not confront the argument from coercion. One is that the argument from corruption has to be

[Sandel] What Money Can’t Buy 105