It’s probably best to start with an example from ordinary moral life. Consider the kind of promise that I imagine the musician Jay-Z entered into with Beyoncé when they got married. I take it that part of that marriage arrangement was a promise by Jay-Z to be faithful to Beyoncé. We think in our ordinary moral lives that one has a duty to keep the promises that one makes.

If Jay-Z makes such a promise, then he has a duty to keep it. He has a duty to be faithful to Beyoncé. If he breaks that duty, then he does wrong. That duty is a directed duty, which means it’s not just the case that he must keep his promise; he owes it to someone in particular. What is more, if he breaks that promise, then he doesn’t just do wrong, but he also wrongs someone in particular. He wrongs Beyoncé.

Directed duties are not things that we ordinarily talk about. That’s a term of art. But we do talk about owing it to each other to do certain things, and we do talk about wronging each other. We also talk about rights. Rights and directed duties are importantly connected. If you buy Beyoncé’s latest album, which I can recommend to you because it’s very good, then you have a right to listen to that album.

I shouldn’t interfere with that right. I have a duty not to interfere with your right. I don’t just do wrong if I violate that duty, but I wrong you in particular. So, directed duties have this relational aspect to them. The philosophical puzzle is: Why do we think duties have that aspect?

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