Reward as the Foundation of Ethics: A New Model for Understanding Human Motivation and Conflict Resolution

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For citation purposes:

In-text: Castelluccio (2025); (Castelluccio, 2025)

Full citation: Castelluccio, L. (2025). Reward as the Foundation of Ethics: A New Model for Understanding Human Motivation and Conflict Resolution. https://doi.org/10.17613/ca3th-wmq43

Abstract

This essay offers a synthesis and theoretical grounding of the ethical model originally developed in Propositions (Castelluccio, 2017; 2024), proposing a novel framework for interpersonal and socio-political conflict resolution based on the concept of reward as the fundamental motivational and normative axis. Drawing from contemporary neuroscience, psychology, and philosophy, it argues that all human action is ultimately oriented towards subjective reward states—ranging from immediate satisfaction to profound and sustained well-being such as self-esteem, inner freedom, and happiness. The model introduces the notion of high reward states as the ultimate criterion for ethical action and decision-making, and it contends that such states can only emerge within contexts of radical freedom, non-coercion, and respect for individual agency. This ethical paradigm has far-reaching implications for understanding moral dilemmas, designing social institutions, and developing public policies that are truly aligned with human flourishing. By integrating empirical evidence with philosophical insight, the article outlines a realist, objective, naturalistic, rational and pragmatically grounded ethics that avoids both moral relativism and authoritarianism, offering an innovative path for normative thought in the 21st century.

Keywords: ethics of reward; motivational neuroscience; moral philosophy; higher states of well-being; self-esteem and happiness; non-coercive ethics; human flourishing; conflict resolution; freedom and agency; applied ethics; naturalistic ethics; phenomenological ethics; socio-political implications; Propositions (Castelluccio); value theory; existential ethics

1. Reward as the Motor of Action

Every human action, from the simplest to the most complex, is directly connected to a fundamental principle underlying our biological nature and our condition as conscious beings: reward. This concept, far from being limited to a merely hedonic or pleasurable experience, must be understood as an integral state of positive affect linked to the satisfaction of specific goals, subjective self-realization, and the attainment of internal values. Reward is not merely a neurochemical reaction to a stimulus; it is the ultimate criterion that determines our ends, choices, and judgments, and that gives direction to action.

By reward I therefore understand a multidimensional construct that articulates (i) a valenced subjective experience (affective and cognitive components), (ii) a normative function in the regulation of action (anticipation of desirable consequences), (iii) identifiable neurophysiological correlates (e.g., dopaminergic value-prediction signals, mesolimbic circuits, and prefrontal regulation), and (iv) a temporal property (distinguishing between phasic responses and tonic or sustained states). From this definition, reward is not a mere synonym for momentary pleasure: it is a regulatory variable integrating expectations, learning (prediction error), and evaluative judgments applied both to instrumental goods and to those constitutive of the agent-subject’s identity. This characterization enables a transition from metaphorical language to the operational vocabulary necessary for an empirically informed ethics.

First, it is crucial to emphasize that human beings do not act moved by abstract principles existing outside themselves, but rather by what internally appears to them as meaningful, important, or valuable—that is, by that which they associate with states of reward. This association is not arbitrary: it is constructed from biology, experience, social and cultural context, and, above all, through complex cognitive processes of evaluation and anticipation of consequences. The foundation of the experience of benefit or subjective improvement moves the individual to act, to persist, or to choose one course of action over another.

William James, for instance, asserted that the value of an idea or belief lies in its capacity to produce concrete effects upon the subject’s experience—that is, in its subjective utility (James, 1896).

This view aligns with contemporary neuroscientific knowledge: emotional states—intimately linked to the reward system—are essential to rational decision-making, refuting the classical dichotomy between reason and emotion (Damasio, 1994). Indeed, the prefrontal cortex and the dopaminergic system are structurally oriented toward the anticipation of gratifying or aversive outcomes, demonstrating that even our most “rational” decisions are anchored in reward expectation.

What we call values, goals, or purposes are nothing but mental constructions established by their relation to reward states. A value is such because its attainment or approximation produces an increase in the subjective experience of well-being. This logic extends even to moral or spiritual values: respect, justice, or kindness are pursued because they entail reward states, and experience shows that they also lead to greater forms of reward—whether longer-term, deeper, or socially sustained—compared to their absence.

Although reward manifests through brain processes (and can be described neurobiologically), its function is not exhausted by the neurochemical dimension. In fact, it assumes a structural role in the organization of our decisions, insofar as it operates as the ultimate criterion of preference and choice. We choose what promises the greatest reward, whether in terms of immediate pleasure or of a more complex and deferred satisfaction—such as esteem, personal achievement, or a sense of transcendence.

Once again, reward should not be confused with mere gratification. While the latter may be momentary and superficial, reward may involve processes requiring effort, delay, and even suffering, so long as the subject identifies—through mental associations and evaluative processes—that such a path leads to a greater state of well-being. This is experienced in the present as a subjective sense of reward associated with those factors, which may or may not increase long-term well-being, but which nevertheless generate the present reward that propels our action in that direction. Thus, for instance, studying for years, caring for another, meditating, or even defending ideals under adverse conditions may all be driven by the (conscious or unconscious) expectation of attaining a higher state of reward—an expectation that is operationalized through the immediate experience of reward associated with those pursuits.

Therefore, in theoretical and empirical terms, it is useful to distinguish between gratification (a short-lived hedonic response) and reward, understood as an integrative goal that may require temporal investment, impulse inhibition, and “model-based” planning. From the perspective of reinforcement learning, dopaminergic error prediction mechanisms (phasic dopamine) may underlie the acquisition of associations, while executive frontal processes and internal modeling (model-based planning) allow for the anticipation of and investment in long-term rewards. Hence, the explanation of human behavior requires the integration of learning models (model-free/model-based), intertemporal choice theory, and a phenomenological evaluation of value—all of which preserve the distinction between fleeting pleasure and deep, sustained states of reward.

In this sense, the Aristotelian notion of eudaimonia as a way of life oriented toward human flourishing finds a modern reinterpretation: it is not about immediate pleasure, but rather the realization of one’s potentialities, which produces a kind of profound, sustained, and structuring reward. As Seligman (2011) suggests in his theory of well-being, the most meaningful states of reward derive from engagement with valuable goals, meaning, relationships, and achievements, rather than from immediate pleasure.

Within this framework, it is crucial to clarify a point often misunderstood: we do not act merely to avoid pain. The avoidance of suffering does not constitute, in itself, an autonomous principle of motivation; rather, it represents another manifestation of the reward system’s functioning. That is, we avoid pain because such a state is negatively associated with reward—we perceive it as an obstacle or a diminution of subjective well-being. Pain, as an aversive experience, operates as a negative signal within the organism’s evaluative system, but what truly drives action is not pain itself, but the pursuit of its opposite: a rewarding state.

From the standpoint of learning psychology, authors such as John Bowlby have noted that negative affects such as pain or fear are not ends in themselves, but adaptive signals for modifying behavior in accordance with survival and well-being. The limbic system continuously evaluates environmental conditions to maximize future reward, as observed in prediction error theories in neuroscience (Schultz, 1997), where the dopaminergic system learns to anticipate the rewarding value of a stimulus based on its prior history.

When we withdraw from a source of harm or discomfort, we do not do so out of a principle of self-preservation, but because we have learned, through associations and conditioning, that certain stimuli decrease our reward. Fear, discomfort, and suffering are indicators the system uses to reorganize actions in order to maximize reward. Even the act of avoiding suffering is mediated by a projection of the well-being that would be recovered through such avoidance. In this sense, pain is a variable within the reward system, not an independent motivational entity.

This has important implications: it suggests that even defensive, withdrawal, or avoidance behaviors do not contradict the idea of reward as the central driving force—they reinforce it. Every behavior has a direction: it aims to restore equilibrium, the state the subject regards as most valuable. The flight from pain and the pursuit of pleasure are, ultimately, two expressions of the same principle—the orientation toward states that maximize the subject’s overall reward, not necessarily in the immediate term, but structurally and in the long run.

This model carries a central implication: individuals do not act in accordance with ends imposed from outside ontologically (whether God, society, or metaphysical principles), but rather in accordance with what they subjectively find valuable—that is, rewarding. Even when religious, ideological, or rational principles are invoked, their efficacy depends on their having been previously associated with states of reward. In other words, one does not follow a principle because it is true in itself, but because following it produces some kind of reward in the present, which may or may not lead to greater states of reward in the future. In this sense, even the fulfillment of apparently disinterested moral imperatives (such as “love thy neighbor” or “sacrifice oneself for an ideal”) is ultimately sustained by the experience or expectation of a valuable subjective state.

This view finds a certain echo in the philosophy of Spinoza, who held that every being perseveres in its being (conatus), driven by the desire to increase its power of acting—something that could here be interpreted as reward (Spinoza, 1677). Nietzsche (1886), for his part, sharply criticized transcendent moralities and instead proposed a vitalist ethics grounded in the affirmation of life: “What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil,” thereby underscoring the affective and motivational dimension of moral action.

It could be objected that reducing human motivation to reward impoverishes our understanding of action. However, this objection arises from a reductionist interpretation of the concept. Reward, in this framework, is not synonymous with immediate pleasure or hedonistic selfishness. On the contrary, it can manifest in highly elaborated forms: the satisfaction of a compassionate or benevolent act, aesthetic contemplation, moral achievement, scientific discovery, or coherence with a philosophy of life. All these experiences involve, to varying degrees and under different conditions, a component of reward that structures motivation.

In philosophical terms, this perspective reconfigures the question of “meaning” and “duty.” If the universe has neither an ultimate end nor a final cause, then the meaning of our actions cannot derive from transcendent principles. Instead, meaning is constructed internally by the subject, through the associations established between states of reward and specific ends, goals, or aspirations. In this context, ethics cannot be founded on abstract entities existing independently of the subject, but must be grounded in what human experience can validate as valuable: the highest attainable states of reward.

This principle also fulfills a regulatory function. Every complex action that requires goal discrimination, decision-making, impulse inhibition, or perseverance is modulated by the expectation of reward. It is not intelligence per se that drives action, but the direction that intelligence takes when oriented toward the maximization of rewards. Even the construction of social values, moral norms, or political systems finds its ultimate foundation in this fact: those systems associated with states of reward will tend to be preferred, sustained, or defended, though they may or may not actually guarantee the emergence of high reward states.

The human subject, then, is an agent who lives according to his or her values, and these are mental configurations constructed from associations with reward. Value is not an objective property of things, but the result of associating an object or event with a state of reward. This association may be cultural, biological, or personal, but in all cases it implies that the valued object activates an expectation of well-being that becomes operational through the emergence of a rewarding state in the present—one that may increase or decrease in the future depending on the feedback that engagement with that value introduces. Thus, value does not exist outside the subject, even if it may be grounded in real or intersubjectively shared facts.

In this way, reward is not only the driving force of action but also of the construction of lived reality. What we consider important, meaningful, beautiful, or moral is built in relation to its connection with reward. Even our critiques of this logic and of various systems (for example, hedonism, individualism, collectivism, or subjectivism) respond to a value system that seeks to sustain higher states of reward—albeit through different means.

Finally, recognizing that action is driven by reward allows for a profound revision of ethics. The question is no longer: “What must I do according to an abstract duty?” but rather: “What actions make it possible to attain the highest possible states of reward for myself and for others?” This ethics, based on a real, observable, and universal criterion grounded in our biological nature and rational agency (though singular in its manifestation), opens the possibility of a more effective, coherent, and pragmatic morality—one distanced from religious dogmas and founded on a deep understanding of what truly motivates human beings.

Reward, thus understood, is neither a luxury nor an evolutionary residue, but the structural axis of action, the foundation of subjectivity, the criterion of choice, and ultimately the true ground of a possible ethics.

This naturalistic understanding of motivation makes it possible, in a certain way, to reconcile ethics with the life sciences—and with science in general. As Peter Singer (1981) suggests, an effective ethics must begin from what human beings actually are and value, not from unattainable abstractions. Thus, an ethics grounded in reward represents a strategy for building moral systems that are more sustainable, coherent, and attuned to human nature.

2. High reward states as the ultimate and supreme criterion

If reward constitutes the fundamental driving force of human action, it becomes necessary to take one step further and ask: do all reward states possess the same value? Are there higher forms of reward that can serve as structural guides for ethical life and human development? From the present standpoint, the answer is affirmative: there exist high reward states—superior in quality and duration—that must be regarded as the ultimate and supreme criterion for guiding our actions, ends, and systems of value.

I define a high reward state as an experiential configuration characterized by three concomitant normative and empirical criteria: (1) intensity-valence: a positive experience with high affective content; (2) durability: temporal sustainment beyond hedonic adaptation; (3) agentive coherence: integration with the subject’s autonomy and self-esteem. Ethically, the ultimate criterion is not the maximization of momentary pleasures, but the maximization of an integrated reward index (the area under the curve of subjective well-being weighted by coherence and autonomy). This hierarchical criterion allows for the evaluation of competing moral traditions, avoids hedonistic reductionism, and provides a practical rule for prioritizing ends when they come into conflict.

Which high reward states are most relevant to human beings in connection with the present ethical framework? Here we must introduce self-esteem, complexity, and happiness as the core of human flourishing.

I define self-esteem as “the reward associated with what one can do that is complex and that favors one’s own life.” This construct is not reducible to a fleeting emotion or a perception of social status; rather, it constitutes a regulatory axis of identity and action.

From a neurocognitive perspective, self-esteem emerges from the integration of motivational systems for reward prediction, executive evaluation of action (prefrontal cortex), and monitoring of coherence between behavior and values. Its expression is sustained over time, making it a tonic state of psychic life rather than a mere phasic peak of pleasure.

Therefore, self-esteem should be conceived, in operational terms, as the subjective tonic reward arising from the performance of actions endowed with differentiating complexity and oriented toward the stabilization and enhancement of the agent’s life. This definition excludes the mere perception of status as the ontological source of self-esteem: descriptive hierarchy may coexist with self-esteem but neither explains nor replaces it; self-esteem is essentially an internal evaluation of one’s capacity to perform complex actions that preserve or expand the subject’s vital possibilities. Consequently, as will be seen, any policy or intervention that reduces the agent’s autonomy or transforms complex action into mere imposition erodes the very source from which self-esteem is cultivated.

The criterion of complexity is fundamental: it is not enough to perform mechanical or trivial behaviors; the action must represent a differentiation—either from what others can do or from what one previously did—and must entail a degree of adaptive challenge. This component may be associated with phenomena of flow and high-level learning, in which reward is not exhausted by immediate achievement but extends as retrospective satisfaction and as an increase in perceived self-efficacy. Hence, the failure to cultivate self-esteem entails an impoverishment of life: it reduces the frequency of sustained reward states and increases the likelihood of motivational stagnation.

The notion of complexity refers not only to the objective difficulty of a task but also to a structural profile composed of: (a) relative differentiation from prior or external capacities; (b) cognitive demand fostering learning and plasticity; and (c) the possibility of narrative integration within personal projects. These conditions foster flow states and consolidate a meaningful autobiographical memory; thus, the reward derived from complexity exhibits characteristics of temporal sustainability and self-reinforcement—essential traits of the high reward state known as self-esteem.

When I assert that these actions must favor life, I mean that they must not entail the destruction of one’s own existence or generate predominant suffering that nullifies their long-term value. Complex yet self-destructive actions may produce momentary gratification but do not constitute high reward states. In this sense, the notion of “life” is broad: it includes biological integrity, psychological health, the capacity for future projects, and the expansion of capabilities.

Happiness, by contrast, is defined as “the reward state associated with those things that do not necessarily involve what one can do that differentiates oneself from others, but that nevertheless entail reward.” Its scope is broader and includes receptive and contemplative experiences, yet it remains dependent on coherence with vital values. Indeed, I explicitly maintain that the full manifestation of happiness requires, if not directly then at least indirectly, the presence of self-esteem at some level. This implies a hierarchical model in which self-esteem functions as a structural prerequisite for deep happiness, since it provides the sense of agency and competence necessary to experience genuine life satisfaction.

Accordingly, I understand happiness as a broad and heterogeneous reward state that may arise from both active and receptive activities; however, for happiness to attain depth and durability, it generally requires a foundation of self-esteem that provides an agent-centered sense to the experience. In other words, episodic happiness (pleasure, comfort) may coexist without robust self-esteem, but sustained happiness—qualifying as a “high state”—essentially requires the perception of competence, self-efficacy, and coherence that self-esteem affords. This hierarchical relationship between self-esteem and happiness forms the core of this framework and legitimizes its use as the ultimate criterion.

Taken together, self-esteem and happiness constitute the highest reward states to which human beings can aspire. They can be understood either as products of an adaptive design—configured by evolution to reinforce behaviors that enhance survival, reproduction, and social integration—or as learned associations consolidated throughout individual development within long-term reward circuits. In both cases, their cultivation cannot be imposed or delegated: it requires autonomy, deliberation, and value-guided action. They are, ultimately, the most refined expression of human flourishing—the normative core from which an empirically informed ethics can be constructed, capable of guiding life toward its fullest realization.

This hierarchical conception of reward states finds resonance in the Aristotelian tradition, where eudaimonia—often translated as “happiness” or “flourishing”—is presented as the ultimate end of human life, a form of deep well-being that transcends immediate pleasure (Aristotle, trans. 2009). It distinguishes durable states of well-being from momentary hedonic peaks.

Again, momentary gratifications or sensory pleasures, though relevant in everyday life, tend to be short-lived, subject to hedonic adaptation, and in many cases fail to guarantee lasting well-being. By contrast, high reward states are those that entail a profound level of satisfaction, emotional stability, self-realization, and internal coherence. They are, in general terms, forms of prolonged well-being that include self-esteem and happiness as defined here, as well as inner peace, a sense of competence, and psychological integration.

In this regard, research in affective neuroscience supports the existence of brain systems that sustain prolonged well-being. Richard Davidson (2004) has shown that certain patterns of brain activation—particularly in the left prefrontal cortex—are associated with persistent positive affective states, while practices such as compassionate meditation foster emotional stability and resilience.

These states not only represent subjectively valuable experiences but also constitute the ultimate horizon toward which all our goals tend. Even when we pursue seemingly external objectives—professional success, social recognition, mastery of a skill, spirituality, or love—we do so because they promise us, directly or indirectly, an increase in our reward, experienced in the present as a positive affect associated with these factors. Among all possible forms of reward, those combining intensity, stability, and coherence are the ones that most contribute to a fulfilling life.

Even contemplative practices and Eastern religious traditions—such as mindfulness and certain elements of Buddhist philosophy—can be understood here as complex technologies aimed at cultivating self-esteem and regulating reward. Far from constituting a passive renunciation of complex life projects, mindfulness and contemplative disciplines can be regarded as methods that foster specific psychological and neurocognitive capacities: sustained attention and metacognition (the ability to observe one’s own mental states), disidentification from impulses, and affective regulation strategies that facilitate the reconfiguration of motivational associations. These abilities, in turn, allow on the one hand a reduction in phasic reactivity to immediate stimuli and a strengthening of top-down prefrontal control over limbic responses, promoting a more tonic stability of well-being—a necessary condition for the emergence and maintenance of high reward states (self-esteem, inner peace, happiness). On the other hand, they enable a more objective observation of reality, fostering deep insights into the nature of existence itself, thereby enhancing rationality and refining the evaluation of the relative value of certain processes, thoughts, emotions, and life goals. This latter dimension might be said to represent the spiritual quality of such practices—an expansion of consciousness pursued as an end in itself, though still encompassed within the domain of self-esteem.

From this perspective, classical notions such as ataraxia (and its Buddhist analogue, equanimity or upekkhā) do not operate as a negation of goals, but rather as intentional practices of detachment that optimize the subject’s motivational economy: they reduce the volatility of immediate rewards and enhance self-efficacy in pursuing complex, deferred, and more objectively grounded ends. Consequently, the contemplative contribution may be conceptualized as a set of techniques and deep insights into reality that increase the subject’s overall depth of consciousness—about self, world, and circumstances—fostering the capacity to regulate internal states, extract metacognitive insights, and sustain life projects. Thus, they serve to cultivate and strengthen self-esteem as defined within this framework.

Accordingly, insofar as these practices involve the development of complex cognitive and affective capacities, as well as metacognitive insights that enhance our sense of self-efficacy, they fall within the broader framework of cultivating and strengthening self-esteem. Although we may approach such practices as we do those values associated with deep happiness—namely, as ends in themselves—they ultimately and indirectly connect with the cultivation of self-esteem.

Returning to the broader argument, within this ethical framework it is maintained that the highest attainable good in life, in terms of subjective value, is the experience of the highest reward states for as long as possible. This formulation serves as a kind of guiding principle: if we assume that life lacks transcendent ends, then the only viable ultimate criterion of orientation is that which our biology and cognition recognize as most valuable. And what is most valuable is not what pleases us momentarily, but what enables us to inhabit deep and sustained states of reward.

As Damasio (1999) observes, our emotions and feelings are not mere biological reactions but complex cognitive processes that guide our decisions and shape our identity. The experience of profound well-being can thus be understood as a marker that directs behavior toward existentially significant scenarios.

From the perspective developed here, self-esteem is one of these states—again, conceived as a subjective reward state derived from the perception of one’s own capacity for effective action, provided that such capacity meets certain structural criteria. The action in question must be complex and differentiating—that is, it must stand out from what most other individuals can do, or from what one was previously capable of doing—and, fundamentally, it must favor the life of the subject. This means that the action must not, either intrinsically or probabilistically, entail the destruction of the individual’s life or generate a predominance of suffering and distress. Not every complex action, then, produces self-esteem: only those that involve reward and that preserve or enhance life itself.

This model entails a close relationship between self-esteem and a form of well-being experienced as sustained enjoyment. While a complex action may produce momentary pleasure, if it proves deleterious to life in the medium or long term, it cannot be associated with the high reward states proposed here as the ultimate orienting criterion. Self-destruction, within this framework, cannot be a sustainable source of self-esteem, even though in certain extreme situations—for example, risking one’s life to save a loved one—it might be evaluated as the option that, given the limit situation, yields the greatest possible subjective reward. It is therefore essential to distinguish between acting in accordance with the sustained cultivation of self-esteem and happiness, and acting in accordance with the criterion of maximum possible reward in a specific, extreme circumstance.

As for happiness—the other predominant high reward state—it can be understood, again, as a more general reward state, not necessarily linked to complex or differentiating actions, but still associated with experiences that promote the individual’s life. That is, both in self-esteem and in happiness, the same underlying principle is at work: alignment with values or actions that foster personal flourishing and favor life—that is, that are oriented toward the preservation and expansion of the subject’s existential possibilities. The central difference between the two lies in that self-esteem requires, at least implicitly, the recognition of an individual capacity to perform something that stands out in terms of complexity and vital efficacy, whereas happiness may arise from more immediate, even receptive, experiences that do not necessarily involve the active exercise of a differentiating capacity. Nevertheless, the relationship between the two remains close: happiness, in order to manifest deeply and sustainably, requires at some level the presence of self-esteem.

In this sense, I maintain that self-esteem and happiness together constitute the highest possible reward states for the human being. This hypothesis can be understood from two complementary perspectives. On the one hand, it may be argued that such states have been evolutionarily configured as expressions of an adaptive design that reinforces behaviors oriented toward survival, reproduction, social integration, the exploration of novelty, and the acquisition of functional status. On the other hand, it is plausible to consider that, throughout individual development, contingent associations arise between certain capacities and pleasurable experiences, associations that become consolidated into enduring reward circuits.

An important clarification is that this conception of self-esteem should not be confused with the idea of status understood as social superiority or a perception of being superior to others. Although it is true that our capacities may be situated at certain points within a hierarchy of complexity (since an action can be more or less complex relative to what others can do), the hierarchy itself does not constitute either the goal or the structural core of self-esteem. The experience of self-esteem does not require that others occupy a lower level, nor does it rely on competitive comparison with them. It is both possible—and desirable—for all members of a society to develop high levels of self-esteem through the realization of complex actions that, while distinct, correspond to their personal singularity.

This view aligns with the perspective of psychologist Abraham Maslow (1968), who identified “self-actualization” as a higher need within the human motivational hierarchy. For Maslow, the development of individual potential does not require competition with others, but rather the authentic expression of one’s own capacities.

True self-esteem, therefore, is not grounded in the belief of being “better than others,” but in the perception of one’s effective capacity to deal with existence. It is a self-centered evaluation and, for that reason, is fully compatible with a community of equally developed individuals in terms of abilities and complexity. In fact, self-esteem may even be enhanced in a society where others also exhibit exemplary behaviors, since it does not depend on the inferiority of others but on a form of self-realization.

The notion of hierarchy, then, must be qualified in this context. That certain abilities can be hierarchically organized in terms of difficulty or impact does not imply that self-esteem must depend on occupying high positions within such hierarchies. The essential criterion remains the capacity to produce a complex behavior that favors one’s own life. For example, one cannot experience authentic self-esteem from having destroyed another’s capacities in order to climb a hierarchy, for such an act does not represent a genuine manifestation of one’s own capacity, but rather an act contrary to life and to the integrity of the very system that enables the development of self-esteem.

Another relevant point is that not all complex actions that favor life generate the same degree of reward. Each individual possesses a set of activities or domains that, by virtue of their uniqueness, are associated with higher levels of satisfaction and well-being. Self-esteem, as a subjective phenomenon, accommodates this individual variability. Nonetheless, the general principle holds: there exists a common form for all, consisting in the differentiating expression of a complex and vitally significant capacity.

It should also be emphasized that the experience of self-esteem is not reducible to a phenomenon derived merely from the fulfillment of basic needs such as survival or reproduction. Although its manifestation may have originated adaptively in connection with such needs, its current expression in the individual’s psychic life transcends that framework. Even when those needs are satisfied, the cultivation of self-esteem remains an essential component of a fulfilling life. Its absence or stagnation can lead to an impoverished existence in terms of reward and well-being. Therefore, self-esteem, as the expression of complex action that favors life, constitutes a constant source of self-realization and one of the fundamental nuclei of human flourishing.

This notion carries profound ethical implications. Rather than being based on abstract principles or externally imposed rules, ethics should be constructed from an understanding of the human being as an organism that naturally seeks reward. Yet not just any reward: effective ethics is that which enables the cultivation and sustenance of the highest reward states—those that, by their depth and duration, represent the fullest expression of human well-being.

It might be objected that this proposal is subjectivist, relativist, or utilitarian. However, what is proposed here is neither an ethics of immediate pleasure nor a mere aggregation of benefits. It is an ethics that recognizes the hierarchical structure of reward states: not all are equal, and some—such as self-esteem and happiness, or likewise internal coherence, emotional balance, and profound love—possess higher value because they constitute stable, expansive, and self-reinforcing states, capable of withstanding external vicissitudes and generating constructive, enduring, and ethically consistent behaviors.

As we have seen, self-esteem is not an occasional positive emotion but a state of profound self-appraisal that emerges from the coherence among one’s actions, values, and goals. It cannot be obtained through external imposition or by merely complying with external norms. It is the result of complex processes of self-knowledge, responsibility, and deliberate action. When cultivated, it becomes an inexhaustible source of reward states: it sustains the subject in adverse moments, reinforces ethical decision-making, generates well-being even in the absence of external stimuli, and strengthens autonomy.

In ethical terms, this position bears some resemblance to Kant’s (1785/2002) notion of “morality as autonomy,” according to which the true moral law cannot be externally imposed but must arise from the rational exercise of freedom. Although conceived within a different paradigm and with distinct normative foundations, both approaches converge in asserting that moral authenticity requires self-direction and internal congruence.

The same applies to happiness understood not as momentary euphoria, but as a state of global life satisfaction, in which the subject perceives that their life possesses direction, value, and fullness. This kind of happiness is not reducible to hedonism, but rather encompasses cognitive, affective, existential, and social dimensions. It arises when thought, action, values, and relationships are aligned. In this sense, it constitutes an integrative state of reward and, therefore, represents one of the most legitimate criteria for guiding ethical life.

Within this framework, a fundamental principle is established: all our goals and values must be evaluated according to their capacity to lead to these higher states of reward. This does not mean pursuing them immediately, but rather structuring one’s life—its means, choices, contexts, and relationships—in such a way that the conditions enabling them are maximized. Just as a compass provides orientation without imposing a single path, these states allow us to discern between genuinely valuable ends and those which, although seemingly attractive, lead to deterioration, fragmentation, or suffering.

An ethics grounded in this ultimate criterion does not deny the diversity of individual paths. On the contrary, it recognizes that each subject has particular associations that lead them toward certain values and goals. Yet it also affirms that, despite this diversity, there exist general parameters (such as self-esteem and deep happiness) that may be considered universal, insofar as they represent the summit of human experience in terms of reward. All human beings—despite cultural, biographical, or temperamental differences—can experience these states, which embody the highest possibilities of life, even if the paths to achieving them are multiple and contingent.

From this perspective, ethical action is neither an abstract duty nor obedience to external norms, but rather the expression of a profound understanding of what truly fulfills us. To act ethically, then, is to act in accordance with the principles that allow for the development of the highest states of reward. And such an ethics neither needs nor can be imposed: its strength derives from its capacity to connect with what is most valuable in our experience.

Thus, the highest states of reward cannot be imposed from without. Their attainment requires freedom, reflection, and congruence. One cannot compel another to be happy, to possess self-esteem, or to experience inner peace. These manifestations are emergent, not forced; they necessarily require personal cultivation grounded in radical autonomy. Hence, respect for individual freedom and the cultivation of environments that foster ethical self-regulation are necessary conditions for this ethics to be realized.

Here emerges one of its most significant socio-political implications: the design of institutions, norms, and policies should be guided by the aim of creating conditions that allow individuals to attain their highest states of reward without interference or coercion. It is not a matter of directing their lives, but of ensuring freedom and the minimal conditions necessary for them to exercise self-direction toward what truly fulfills them. An ethical and political system based on this premise does not deny diversity, but rather respects it within the context of a shared horizon: the profound well-being of individuals.

In political terms, an ethics of reward demands institutions that expand possibilities, oriented toward autonomy, without restricting access to resources for individual initiative, with legal protection of property and personal space, as well as procedural mechanisms that reduce coercion (such as deliberative mechanisms, voluntary funding guided by pro-autonomy incentives, etc.). The transition from massive welfare structures to systems that promote independence must be gradual and accompanied by compensatory policies that neither violate radical freedom nor impose ends in the name of well-being.

This ultimate criterion also allows for the evaluation of the various ethical or moral proposals circulating in society. Those that deny the possibility of attaining high states of reward, or that sacrifice them in the name of dogmatic, coercive, or destructive principles, must be critically questioned. Conversely, those that enable the flourishing of the individual in their fullest dimension—that is, that make possible their self-esteem, deep happiness, and responsible freedom—are aligned with this fundamental ethical principle.

Finally, this ethical conception also bears therapeutic, educational, and existential implications. In psychotherapy, for instance, the promotion of sustainable (not merely palliative) high states of reward should be a primary objective. In education, forming individuals who understand their value systems and can orient their actions toward deeply rewarding goals entails preparing freer, more conscious, and more ethical persons. And in daily life, to live according to this principle is to live with clarity regarding what truly matters—what, beyond all external noise, gives meaning to our existence: not as a mandate, but as a possibility.

In summary, to affirm that the higher states of reward constitute the ultimate and supreme criterion of ethical action and human development entails reconfiguring from the ground up our notions of value, morality, freedom, and well-being. It means recognizing that, under the assumption of a universe devoid of ultimate ends, the only legitimate direction is that which emerges from our biological, cognitive, emotional, and rational nature in its aspiration toward enduring states of fulfillment. This ethics is neither relativistic nor authoritarian: it is realistic, vital, and universal in what it affirms as profoundly human.

As a concluding remark for this section, it is worth noting that, at first glance, the ethics of reward might be misinterpreted as a contemporary variant of consequentialism, since it shares with Bentham (1789/1988) and Mill (1863/1998) the conviction that the moral value of actions is measured in relation to human experiences of well-being. However, the proposal developed here differs substantially and is decisively distinct from classical utilitarianism.

While Bentham maintains that what is right is that which maximizes the total amount of pleasure and minimizes pain—according to a hedonic arithmetic of consequences—and Mill introduces a qualitative hierarchy between higher and lower pleasures, the ethics of reward is founded on a structural principle: the higher states of reward (self-esteem, deep happiness) that constitute ultimate ends in themselves, not mere contingent outcomes of action. In this sense, rather than a form of consequentialism, it is an ethics of guiding principle, in which action is morally valid not because it produces a positive balance of external consequences, but because it aligns with the possibility of attaining and sustaining those elevated states of reward, which represent the highest expression of human flourishing (Castelluccio, 2017; 2024).

The differences with utilitarianism can be summarized in four key points: (1) Foundation: Utilitarianism takes pleasure or happiness as its criterion—quantitative in Bentham, qualitative in Mill—whereas the ethics of reward recognizes elevated states of reward as a fundamental principle, irreducible to calculation. (2) Nature of the criterion: In Bentham and Mill, moral value is determined ex post by the consequence, whereas in this model it is established ex ante, since an action is ethical insofar as it aligns with the possibility of developing and sustaining high states of reward. (3) Individual vs. collective: Utilitarianism is formulated as the pursuit of “the greatest happiness for the greatest number,” under an aggregative and social approach, whereas the ethics of reward has an intrinsically individual, non-collectivist focus, centered on the personal and subjective experience of the individual—self-esteem, deep happiness—as a criterion that is universalizable not by arithmetic but by the shared structure of human nature. (4) Epistemological basis: While utilitarianism rests on philosophical intuitions, the ethics of reward draws upon findings from motivational neuroscience, psychology, and the phenomenology of experience, thereby offering empirical grounding.

A decisive aspect of this differentiation lies in the fact that, within the ethics of reward, there is no quantitative hierarchy among experiences: the “well-being” of ten people is not intrinsically superior to the well-being of a single individual, as utilitarianism presupposes through its aggregative logic. Arguing that we cannot perform “moral arithmetic,” it holds that the life and well-being of each individual possess a unique and irreducible value, which cannot be added or subtracted as though they were interchangeable commodities. The utilitarian aspiration to maximize a total sum of happiness, characteristic of Bentham and Mill, fails to recognize that well-being is intransferable and only meaningful within the subjective experience of the one who lives it. For this reason, the ethics of reward maintains that no life or experience can be morally subordinated to another under numerical calculation; rather, each must be respected in its intrinsic dignity and its potential to access higher states of reward.

This principle can be illustrated by an extreme case: a father who is forced to defend his child against a group of five armed children intent on killing him. According to classical utilitarianism, the survival of five should be morally superior to that of one, by the simple weight of quantity. This would imply, in such an extreme situation, that the father ought to allow his son to be killed, even if he has the possibility of repelling the aggressors by force—an action that could result in the death of all or some of them. However, the ethics of reward rejects this conclusion, since both the child and the five others possess the same right to access high states of reward and to the possibility of a fulfilled life. Moreover, the father himself is defending his own well-being, deeply rooted in the love for his son and in the happiness that depends on his survival. His act of defending his child, far from being immoral, expresses the legitimacy of protecting an irreducible life and the possibility of sustaining high states of reward in both his son and himself. This example makes clear that the ultimate moral criterion does not reside in the sum of happinesses, but in the respect for each life as bearer of a singular and universalizable value: one cannot perform moral arithmetic with human dignity and well-being.

3. Brief Empirical Agenda / Operationalization

To work with the normative notion as a practical tool in specific contexts, it is necessary to operationalize high reward states. High reward states should be categorized along three measurable axes: intensity–valence (assessed through momentary and retrospective scales), durability (temporal persistence and area under the well-being curve), and agentive coherence (degree of congruence between action, values, and self-evaluation).

Consequently, we would have a mixed methodological protocol consisting of:
(a) phenomenal measures of experience (Experience Sampling Method and validated scales of subjective well-being and self-esteem), (b) psychophysiological recordings (heart rate variability, salivary cortisol) as markers of allostatic regulation, and (c) neurofunctional indicators (sustained prefrontal activation patterns associated with positive affect and executive control). Intermethodological convergence (triangulation of ESM + biomarkers + neuroimaging) would allow for the evaluation of the duration, intensity, and coherence of a reward state—parameters that are normatively relevant when deciding among ethical alternatives in real contexts.

The assessment must therefore be multimodal: experience sampling (ESM), psychophysiological indicators, and neurofunctional measures associated with prefrontal regulation and mesolimbic activity. Such a protocol would enable the empirical validation of normative hypotheses and the distinction between gratifying experiences of high versus low reward states.

We could, in turn, propose an Integrated Reward Index (IRI) as an analytical tool: IRI=∫(V(t)⋅w1​)dt+α⋅C+β⋅A where V(t) represents experiential valence over time, C denotes agentive coherence (self-report + behavior/values congruence), and A represents perceived autonomy; w₁, α, and β are empirical weights calibrated by population and context. The IRI enables comparison among alternative courses of action in conflictive cases and provides a quantitative—not merely rhetorical—justification for why certain decisions promote higher reward states. This formalization can, in certain contexts, articulate our normative intuition with an operative framework for ethical deliberation.

In this sense, we could even propose a research agenda: longitudinal studies combining ESM, experimental decision-making tasks (model-based/model-free contrast), stress biomarkers, and neuroimaging to identify correlates of the IRI; evaluations of interventions through quasi-experimental designs measuring population-level changes in IRI before and after educational interventions. This agenda would allow the theoretical framework of the proposed ethics to be employed within a translational research program.

It should be noted that the IRI does not constitute a utilitarian calculation aimed at maximizing an abstract sum of pleasures and minimizing sufferings. Its purpose is to provide an analytical framework for evaluating options in terms of the depth, coherence, and sustainability of reward states, while respecting normative constraints. Unlike the “moral arithmetic” approach, the IRI does not render persons fungible variables nor treat their experiences as interchangeable volumes in an equation.

To avoid such a risk, the IRI, as proposed here, must be designed as a vectorial model with normative filters. The dimensions of agentive coherence and autonomy have lexical priority: if an option violates basic principles of non-instrumentalization or destroys the possibility of maintaining the agent’s life projects, that option is ruled out, even if the aggregated hedonic component appears greater. Thus, the IRI is not a mere numerical aggregator but rather a framework that first asks: “Is this action compatible with the dignity, self-esteem, and autonomy of those involved?” Only thereafter can we compare the quality of the ensuing reward states.

Let us consider an extreme case, similar to the one mentioned earlier, to illustrate this point. Juan faces a situation in which he could save a young aggressor if he refrains from intervening to protect his grandmother. Let us suppose that the aggressor’s definitive intention is to kill his grandmother. Let us also suppose that this will be the only crime he ever commits, and that afterward he will become a rehabilitated, productive member of society. A purely aggregative moral arithmetic might conclude that the “greater number of life-years” belonging to the young man, along with his potential contributions as a productive citizen, amount to “greater moral value.” Consequently, it might judge that the morally correct choice would be to let the grandmother die—an elderly woman already in the final years of her life and receiving a pension.

However, from the standpoint of the ethics of high reward states, such a conclusion is unacceptable. The unique bond between Juan and his grandmother, his internal coherence in acting according to his commitments, and the fact that the reward state is personal and non-transferable, mean that sacrificing that relationship cannot be justified by an abstract aggregation of external benefits. High reward states are individual, irreducible, and incommensurable across subjects on any universal scale; they cannot be added or subtracted like tokens of value. This implies that Juan is within his legitimate moral right if he chooses to defend his grandmother and kill the aggressor, and that we cannot judge him on the basis of a supposed abstract balancing of hierarchical values, concluding that his act is wrong—as a consequentialist morality would.

The IRI also incorporates an epistemological dimension: its recommendations are modulated by uncertainty regarding future consequences and by the obligation to minimize the risk of irreversible harm. In contexts of high indeterminacy, the guiding rule is to act precautionarily, respecting deontological constraints before attempting to optimize expected values. Thus, the IRI does not legitimize arbitrary sacrifices in the name of a supposed “greater good,” but rather functions as a guide for maximizing the quality of life of the agent in coherence with their values—within the boundaries of mutual respect and non-instrumentalization.

Given that high reward states also possess an intersubjective and cultural dimension, their operationalization should include indicators of social integration and narrative meaning, but these must be grounded in voluntary cooperation—for example, the degree to which the experience can be communicated and integrated into the continuity of collective life projects (of exchange and cooperation among individuals) that originate in self-esteem. This dimension ensures that the IRI does not merely target isolated states of satisfaction, but rather forms of life that are coherent and socially rooted in voluntary exchange.

In turn, the calibration of the IRI weights (w₁, α, β) should be carried out in a rational-argumentative and revisable manner, taking into account a democratic (yet individualist) legitimization of the model’s criteria and weights—particularly to avoid technocratic biases—through the involvement of both communities and experts, so that the model reflects a plural and non-imposed conception of human flourishing. This co-deliberative process adds ethical legitimacy and prevents the risk of imposing a homogeneous life pattern.

This reference to an “individualist” approach does not imply reducing the normative domain to isolated private preferences, but rather acknowledges that the ultimate criterion of validation is the reward experience of concrete subjects, which is irreducible to abstract averages. A democracy and rule of law thus understood does not aim to impose a collective ideal of the good life, but rather to guarantee that each agent can deliberate and contribute to defining the IRI weights from their own perspective of flourishing. In this sense, the individualism at stake is methodological and normative: methodological because it takes the person as the minimal unit of evaluation—what is measured is the quality of their experience—and normative because it protects autonomy against attempts to sacrifice individuals in the name of alleged aggregate benefits.

Therefore, the IRI preserves the core of the ethical framework proposed here: an ethics centered on the maximization of high reward states, but always in a personal, contextual, and non-aggregative register, for without this orientation, high reward states themselves could not be maximized—their very nature dictates this condition. The goal is not to homogenize the value of lives within a global arithmetic, but to offer a criterion that respects the singularity of each experience, enabling decisions to be made without betraying the dignity of the agent or that of others.

4. Transcendence Without Teleology: Reward as the Axis of Moral Order

The epistemological defense of adopting high reward states as a criterion does not claim an ultimate metaphysical foundation, but rather a rational, pragmatic–intersubjective justification: the norm is that which best explains and predicts the convergence of high reward states, withstands empirical scrutiny, and facilitates the practical resolution of moral dilemmas. This approach acknowledges institutional fallibility (rejecting the “council of sages,” as will be discussed later) and privileges deliberative processes that respect the agents’ freedom while correcting aggressions that undermine the possibility of reward for others.

To maintain that high reward states constitute a legitimate and universal criterion for ethical action, it is necessary to address a fundamental question: how can it be asserted that certain subjective states (such as self-esteem, happiness, or inner peace) possess objective moral value in a universe that seemingly lacks ultimate meaning or intrinsic purpose? This objection, frequent in ethical-philosophical discussions, stems from the idea that without a transcendent purpose, all ethics becomes arbitrary or relative. However, this objection erroneously assumes that morality requires a teleological sense in order to be objective.

This critique has been extensively debated by thinkers such as Nagel (1971), who argues that the rejection of metaphysical teleology does not necessarily entail a rejection of objective value; it merely displaces its foundation from the transcendent to the very structure of human experience.

The ethics proposed here rests on a fundamental distinction: the universe may lack ultimate meaning, but it does not lack order. This order is not merely physical or mathematical, but also structural and functional, and it manifests itself in the regularity with which certain actions, relationships, or dispositions generate sustained states of well-being and self-realization. From this perspective, reward—in its highest form—is neither a cultural construct nor a byproduct of evolutionary processes, but rather the experiential form through which we apprehend our alignment with the order of the world.

This link between behavioral structure and well-being has been explored within evolutionary psychology by authors such as Tomasello (2016), who has argued that our moral dispositions arise from cooperative forms of interaction that promote both individual and collective flourishing.

Such order, which may be interpreted as an expression of transcendent rationality or as an inherent structure of reality, does not impose ends but establishes the conditions of possibility for the flourishing of conscious life. Within this framework, ethics does not require a narrative of destiny or salvation; it is instead grounded in the coherence between human action and the configurations that enable a full life. High reward states are not mere fleeting pleasures but deeply stable experiences that emerge insofar as the subject becomes attuned to and acts in accordance with this order—that is, insofar as one bases one’s flourishing on the objective order of the world, grounded in its rationality. Thus, high reward states become structural indicators of the good, not because they represent an external purpose, but because they express an optimal mode of existence within the framework of possibilities allowed by the universe as it is.

The notion that well-being can serve as an epistemic indicator of existential adequacy also finds resonance in Popper’s thought (1972), who proposed that theories—and by extension, actions—can be evaluated according to their capacity to “withstand” the conditions of the real world. Within this framework, a life that generates high reward states could be understood as a form of “existential hypothesis” corroborated in practice.

However, for this ethical framework to remain coherent even in the absence of ultimate meaning or indubitable metaphysical foundations, it must incorporate a fundamental epistemological principle: the recognition of the fallibility of our beliefs. We may, by personal conviction or cultural tradition, believe in a god, in the existence of life after death, in the persistence of an individual soul, or in a final judgment that confers ultimate meaning upon our actions. These beliefs can undoubtedly offer guidance, comfort, and purpose. Yet, to assume their truth with unconditional certainty without sufficient evidence constitutes an act of faith that, from a rational perspective, must be regarded as provisional and revisable.

Therefore, grounding ethics in something that may ultimately prove to be false—such as the belief in a god who grants meaning to our lives—is a mistake. In this sense, our fallibility and the uncertainty regarding the veracity of such notions compel us to construct a personal and collective ethics—and, ultimately, a way of life—in which the hypothesis of God becomes irrelevant, since basing our lives on something that may not be true is irrational.

Given that we cannot know with certainty the ultimate validity of those transcendent beliefs, the rational course is to organize our lives—and our ethical decisions—as if such ends did not exist. This attitude does not entail denying the possibility of transcendence, but rather recognizing that, if this life were indeed the only one, our decisions would acquire an urgency and an intrinsic absolute value. Ethics, therefore, should not depend on indemonstrable metaphysical assumptions but should be articulated on the basis of the real, finite, and contingent conditions of human existence.

This perspective aligns with what some contemporary philosophers have called an ethics of finitude (Conche, 1999; Dworkin, 2013; Nussbaum, 2001), wherein the awareness of death and the fragility of all forms of life does not weaken meaning but rather intensifies it. The possibility that there may be no eternal legacy—that everything we do may vanish along with humanity itself—far from invalidating the value of our actions, compels us to seek such value in lived experience, in the concreteness of existence, in the dignity of the present.

From a realist yet fallibilist epistemological stance, the normative legitimacy of taking high reward states as a criterion does not require an ultimate metaphysical foundation: it suffices with verified intersubjectivity (reproducible experiential coherence among subjects), empirical robustness (convergence of methods), and the rule’s capacity to resolve practical dilemmas more effectively (according to high reward states) than rival alternatives. Consequently, the value of deep reward is justified rationally and pragmatically—not as an unquestionable metaphysical truth, but as the best regulatory norm in light of empirical evidence, phenomenological experience, and its consistency with human autonomy.

In this context, deep reward—as a form of stable well-being, existential meaning, and coherence—is not a prize bestowed by a higher instance, but the internal manifestation of a well-oriented life, even if it leaves no trace in eternity. This ethical model thus withdraws from the existential blackmail of transcendence by offering a morally guiding path valid whether or not there is a beyond.

Hence, an ethics grounded in deep reward is not opposed to spirituality or to the possibility of a rationally conceived transcendence, yet it does not depend upon it either. Instead of positing ultimate ends as a condition for the good, it seeks to identify the existential configurations that, in this life and in this world, make human flourishing possible. Reward thus functions not as an external indicator of moral compliance, but as a direct, experiential form of knowing what is valuable, independent of any metaphysical framework.

This ethical model is, therefore, compatible with a transcendent vision of order without appealing to externally imposed ends. The universe may have been created—as even a rational theistic view could suggest—by an intelligence that does not impose a specific purpose upon humanity but rather designs a world in which life, complexity, consciousness, and well-being are possible and desirable in themselves. Life would thus be an end in itself, not a means to another. And well-being—the sustained experience of deep reward—would serve as the internal criterion by which the subject recognizes his or her alignment with that order.

This also allows us to address a classic objection: if well-being is the ultimate criterion, why should we pursue it? The question is circular: no external reason is needed to pursue what constitutes the fullest form of being in the world. Just as one does not ask why health is preferable to illness or truth to falsehood in epistemic contexts, one need not justify why deep well-being is valuable; its value is self-evident to the consciousness that experiences it. This subjective recognition does not render it arbitrary, because it coheres with an objective order of the world that makes such experience possible.

This idea recalls MacIntyre’s (1981) concept of internal goods, which distinguishes between external rewards and those that are constitutive of a valuable practice. High reward states would thus be expressions of the intrinsic worth of certain well-realized forms of life.

Reward, in this sense, functions as both the epistemic and practical criterion of a morality grounded in reality. When an action generates high reward states—in terms of self-esteem, inner coherence, peace, and fulfillment—it not only satisfies a psychological desire but reveals that the subject has acted in accordance with the conditions that the world’s order favors for human life. Conversely, when an action produces sustained suffering, psychic fragmentation, or relational degradation, it is not merely an undesirable experience but a structural signal of dissonance with that same order.

This implies that ethics is neither an imposed system nor a merely subjective construction, but rather a discipline of fine adjustment between the subject and the conditions of possibility for sustained well-being. It is not a matter of obeying unappealable transcendent norms, but of understanding—with rational lucidity—the structural consequences of our actions in relation to the possibility of human flourishing.

Therefore, high reward states constitute a legitimate ethical criterion because they are the experiential form in which alignment with the order of the world manifests itself—an order that may be transcendent, but not necessarily teleological. In this way, the false dilemma between moral relativism and dogmatism is overcome: ethics does not require mandates or ultimate ends, but rather a profound understanding of what it means to live well within an intelligible cosmos, albeit one apprehended through fallible cognition and knowledge. The advantage is that rationality itself self-corrects the flaws in our cognition, for it understands its own limits and, on that basis, designs both these kinds of ethical frameworks and the scientific tools for empirical inquiry that help control our biases.

5. Ethical dilemmas in society arise from the conflict of actions and ends among subjects

Ethical dilemmas in society do not arise from absolute moral principles inscribed in reality, but from the inevitable conflict among the individual ends of multiple subjects seeking to act upon the world. Since every action entails the use of resources—spaces, objects, time, attention—in pursuit of particular goals, the collision of different wills generates tensions experienced as ethical dilemmas. The starting point of this proposal is that there exists no universal moral code embedded in nature (though there is a specific order that favors the emergence of high reward states) nor in any metaphysical entity; rather, every moral judgment ultimately derives from a fundamental criterion residing in the nature of the subject: reward.

This idea resonates with the tradition of classical liberalism, in which authors such as Berlin (1958) have argued that human values can be plural, mutually irreducible, and often incompatible. Yet this plurality is not pathological but constitutive of human life; it is precisely its coexistence that gives rise to moral dilemmas.

From this perspective, individuals establish their values, goals, and judgments of good and evil based on mental associations with reward states. Since all of us pursue what rewards us—whether pleasure, tranquility, self-esteem, or happiness—and since the paths to attaining it vary according to our personal histories, biology, and beliefs, it is unsurprising that conflicts emerge when those paths intersect or obstruct one another. A person who values private property because it enables the pursuit of personal aims may come into conflict with another who deems it legitimate to redistribute certain goods in the name of social justice—a concept that this individual has learned to associate with reward states. Here the dilemma materializes: which criterion should prevail when one person’s ends interfere with another’s?

Analyzing such dilemmas requires an operational notion of property—not as a legal or merely economic construct, but as a fundamental category of action. Within this ethics of reward, property is understood as the effective possibility of using spaces and objects for one’s own purposes. This definition captures the essence of human action: every act implies appropriating something—even if only temporarily—in order to modify or employ it toward a goal. Even in the simplest actions, such as eating, walking, or reading, there is an appropriation of physical space and material objects used in accordance with one’s own desire or need. If a person’s possibility of acting (in pursuit of their own ends) is obstructed by another subject (acting in pursuit of theirs), what is frustrated is not merely a particular action but the very principle of individual agency.

The notion of “use” as the practical foundation of property can already be found in Locke’s philosophy (1689/1988), who linked property to labor and to the effective appropriation of resources for individual ends. In this view, property rights do not derive from an external decree but from the structural necessity of the subject to act upon the world.

Ethical conflict, then, cannot be reduced to a mere incompatibility of opinions or ideologies. It is the practical manifestation of a clash between ends that express themselves within the same property—within the same space and objects. And since personal ends cannot be disentangled from the criterion of reward, these dilemmas are likewise confrontations between different configurations of what each individual considers valuable and satisfying—and ultimately, of what may or may not lead to high reward states. Therefore, attempting to resolve these conflicts through abstract criteria—such as justice, equality, or tradition—without examining their real implications in terms of reward may lead to solutions that, while theoretically coherent, deny the actual possibilities of lasting well-being for the individuals involved.

This gap between theory and experience has been extensively criticized by Nussbaum (2000), who warns that many ethical theories fail by ignoring individuals’ real capacities to exercise agency within specific material contexts. A mature ethical approach, she argues, must take into account the conditions that allow people to live lives that have value for themselves.

A paradigmatic example is political coercion in the name of the common good. When a State imposes a norm or redistributes resources without the consent of certain individuals, it affects their capacity for autonomous action—that is, their property in the sense previously defined. It may be argued that such actions serve a just or higher cause, but if the result is that these individuals are prevented from attaining high reward states—such as self-esteem, deep happiness, personal fulfillment, or freedom of choice—then the dilemma becomes evident: the conflict is not between the individual and the law, but between two configurations of reward—one imposed and the other denied.

Honneth (1995), for example, posits a struggle for recognition: individuals seek to have their life projects acknowledged as legitimate by others, and any unilateral imposition undermines that legitimacy. The ethics of recognition thus proposes that mutual respect is a condition of possibility for self-realization.

Our approach here also helps explain why many notions of “rights” fail when attempting to justify their universal application. A right that entails the use of another person’s resources without their consent conflicts with that person’s ability to act—and therefore with their property—and consequently, with their capacity to cultivate and develop high reward states.

This does not entail a denial of the principle of cooperation or mutual aid, but rather the recognition that such practices lead to high reward states only when they are voluntary. Coercion, even when motivated by altruistic intentions, generates resistance, diminishes overall reward, and fosters new conflicts. Thus, instead of conceiving ethical dilemmas as clashes between absolute good and evil, we should understand them as disputes between individual projects that overlap or interfere with one another. The key to our ethical model lies in the act of denying another the use of spaces and objects for their purposes, for in doing so, one denies that person—and oneself—the possibility of cultivating self-esteem and happiness. This follows from the very nature of high reward states as we have defined them, since they require complex skill, coherence, individual initiative, voluntary cooperation, autonomy, and rationality.

What this ethics therefore proposes as a criterion for resolving such dilemmas is simple yet profound: the maximization of high reward states among all subjects involved, within a framework of non-coercion. This entails protecting each individual’s possibility of acting according to their own ends—that is, defending their right to property understood as the capacity for action. And this is not imposed as a dogma, but derived from a rational and objective observation: the highest reward states a human being can attain depend upon the ability to act freely according to one’s own values and purposes, without being compelled to deny them in favor of others’ ends. Those who deny others their property simultaneously obstruct their own development of self-esteem and happiness.

The importance of avoiding coercion does not imply the elimination of disagreement, but rather the creation of institutional frameworks where disagreements can be addressed without violence. Rawls (1993), for instance, proposed an overlapping consensus as a mode of coexistence among different life projects, allowing for a degree of stability without imposing a total conception of the good.

In our ethical framework, when one subject imposes their own criterion (end) upon another, they prevent that person from using certain spaces or objects for their own ends, thereby destroying the possibility of achieving their personal goals and, with it, diminishing their reward and denying them access to higher states of reward. This constitutes the core of contemporary social dilemmas, from conflicts over the use of public space to debates concerning freedom of expression, religion, sexuality, or lifestyles. What is at stake is not an abstract value, but the concrete possibility for each individual to lead a life they find valuable and meaningful. And since the worth of a life cannot be established from the outside —because values are internal associations with reward— any ethical or political system that seeks to impose a common order must be judged by its capacity to allow all subjects access to those maximal states.

This approach does not entail falling into absolute ethical relativism. Although individual paths toward reward may vary, reward itself, as a state of well-being, has a common neuropsychological basis that allows for the identification of certain general principles. For example, self-esteem—expressed as the recognition that one is capable of achieving one’s ends without harming others or allowing others to cause harm—is a state of high reward. So too is deep happiness, understood as a sustained equilibrium of well-being, meaning, freedom, and inner peace. These states, although constructed differently within each biography, are desirable for all subjects for the simple reason that they represent the highest that life has to offer.

From the perspective of neuroscience, it has been demonstrated that states of well-being, autonomy, and cooperation activate similar reward circuits across individuals, suggesting a shared emotional architecture that can serve as the basis for general moral principles (Lieberman, 2013; Damasio, 1994). This provides empirical support for an ethics that recognizes diversity without collapsing into radical relativism.

Thus, instead of proposing a moral system that dictates what everyone “must do,” this ethics seeks to identify and protect the conditions that allow everyone “to be able to do” that which leads them to such states. This does not resolve all ethical dilemmas, but it does offer a reliable compass for addressing them: when two individual ends come into conflict, we must first analyze who initiated the conflict, and then determine which course of action allows both subjects to maintain or recover their capacity to act, and their possibility of developing high states of reward, without imposition, thereby genuinely accessing that possibility. This amounts to defending not only freedom of action, but also the emotional, cognitive, and social architecture that makes it sustainable over time.

Within this framework, property ceases to be a purely legal right or a concession of the State and becomes a structural necessity of ethical life. Only when individuals can dispose freely of the means to act—that is, only when their property is respected—can we speak of a society in which dilemmas are resolved without violence, imposition, or manipulation. Therefore, to deny property in the name of higher ideals, even those that seek the common good, is to prevent subjects from attaining their personal good, which is the only real way in which the common good can be constructed.

Ethical dilemmas, then, are not moral errors or logical problems, but natural manifestations of the fact that multiple subjects coexist in the same world while pursuing different ends—where, at times, the actions of some, in accordance with their own ends, negate the property (as the possibility of action) of others. The resolution of these dilemmas is not achieved through abstract principles or external sanctions, but through mutual recognition that each person requires space, time, means, and freedom to pursue their reward and to develop self-esteem and deep happiness. Only in this way can a truly human ethics emerge: one that does not deny difference, but harmonizes it in light of what we all share—the pursuit of ever more fulfilled states of life, well-being, and meaning; that is, high states of reward.

6. High States of Reward as Guides for Conflict Resolution

If every subject acts, ultimately, motivated by reward—that is, by those internal states we value as pleasurable, meaningful, satisfying, or liberating—then the fundamental ethical criterion for resolving conflicts between subjects can be none other than the maximization of the highest possible states of reward for each individual involved. This thesis, seemingly simple, constitutes the core of a rational, objective, pragmatic, naturalistic, and profoundly humanistic ethics: ethical, social, and political dilemmas should not be resolved by appealing to transcendental principles, imposed ideologies, or abstract values, but rather guided by the goal of enabling individuals to attain and sustain high states of reward over time.

As we have seen, an ethics that prioritizes high states of reward has an empirical foundation in the neuropsychological architecture of human desire: enduring well-being, beyond momentary pleasure, guides sustained motivation and self-regulation. This aligns with findings in motivational neuroscience showing that human behavior is regulated by circuits whose primary function is to direct action toward anticipated rewards (Schultz, 2015), and that the brain’s reward system responds not only to immediate pleasurable stimuli, but also to abstract goals and states valued as meaningful—such as personal achievement or deep social connection (Berridge & Kringelbach, 2011).

As already noted, not all rewards have the same value or effect. Within this theoretical framework, it becomes clear that there exists a natural hierarchy of reward states, distinguishing between fleeting satisfactions driven by immediate mechanisms (such as sensory gratification or temporary relief from discomfort) and higher reward states, such as self-esteem, deep happiness, inner peace, or conscious freedom. The latter are not only more stable but also structure the subject’s life in a more coherent and enduring way. Therefore, these elevated states must serve as guiding criteria in the evaluation and resolution of interpersonal or social conflicts: the right course of action will be the one that, in the long term, enables and promotes these states more fully and effectively among those involved.

This ethical proposal inverts the dominant logic of many moral traditions. It is not a matter of defining what is right or wrong in the abstract and then evaluating the consequences, but rather of beginning with what actually promotes the greatest real well-being, in accordance with the motivational nature of human beings. In other words, it is not about acting in the name of ideals as such, but about acting in the name of life lived to its fullest—of subjective states that can be verified in the concrete experience of individuals. This ethics is, in this sense, radically phenomenological: it is grounded in the real internal states that subjects can experience, not in notions external to them.

As we have seen, high states of reward may include reflective joy, serenity, self-esteem understood as the recognition of one’s own capacity to act without harming or being harmed, and an overall state of happiness as the consequence of having lived in accordance with, and cultivated, the values most coherent with oneself. These states are characterized by their sustainability, integrative nature, and non-destructive quality. They do not entail the negation of the other, as occurs with destructive gratifications, nor do they follow a zero-sum logic. On the contrary, many of the highest states of reward—such as self-esteem, happiness, gratitude, genuine freedom, deep understanding, or voluntary love—require harmonious coexistence with others, and their very viability depends on others being able to attain them as well.

This is one of the key insights of this framework: the fact that high states of reward are intrinsically cooperative yet individual—that is, they cannot be achieved through imposition, subjugation, or the elimination of others. To the extent that the individual must be able to act freely, without coercion, and maintain ownership of their ends, spaces, and objects in order to realize them, the reciprocal respect of these boundaries becomes an essential ethical condition. Thus, conflict resolution must be guided by the promotion and preservation of the possibility of these states—both in oneself and in others—and the protection and defense of property (the possibility of using spaces and objects for our own ends) is essential to this.

From this perspective, we can redefine conflict not merely as the clash of incompatible ends, but as a potential or actual threat to the high states of reward of one or more of the subjects involved. Resolving a conflict, then, is not simply a matter of eliminating disagreement or suppressing tension; it is about finding a course of action that restores or preserves the possibility for all individuals to continue their lives oriented toward those elevated states of reward.

To this end, it becomes indispensable to establish a criterion that allows us to distinguish which rewards are more desirable, sustainable, or legitimate over time. The ethics I propose does not settle for pure relativism—where every reward is of equal value—but introduces a hierarchical criterion: higher rewards are those that promote the subject’s internal harmony, their capacity for autonomous agency, their self-efficacy and development of complex skills, their affective and cognitive integration, their independence, and their non-dependence on the destruction of others or of the environment. Self-esteem, happiness, inner and outer peace, freedom, existential vitality, and mature love are examples of such high states of reward.

This hierarchy makes it possible to avoid the dangers of short-sighted hedonism or of cultural relativism that justifies harmful practices in the name of traditions or customs. In this framework, it is essential to show that there are practices or actions that may generate immediate reward—such as revenge, domination, or manipulation—but that, in the long term, erode the possibility of attaining higher reward states. Thus, an ethics truly oriented toward well-being cannot be justified merely by the presence of a momentary reward, but by its potential to lead to deeper, more enduring, and constructive states—since these constitute the highest possibilities we can develop in life.

In this sense, the notion of ethical conflict as a collision between ends that deny the other access to their own path toward high reward becomes particularly relevant. For example, in political contexts where arbitrary restrictions are imposed on property or freedom of expression, the subject’s ability to pursue their own ends is violated, and with it, their access to, or capacity for, cultivating self-esteem, meaning, or self-realization is denied. Resolving such a conflict does not necessarily entail imposing one person’s ends upon another, but rather finding modes of coexistence that allow both to continue their paths toward higher rewards without coercive interference.

This perspective carries significant practical implications. Instead of evaluating public policies, social norms, or personal decisions according to traditional ideological or utilitarian criteria, the present ethical model proposes to assess them by their capacity to foster—or at least not obstruct—the good life of individuals, understood as a life that can unfold toward higher reward states. A political system will be ethically legitimate insofar as it ensures that its members can cultivate and access these states—not by imposing them, which it cannot do by the very nature of such states, but by making them more attainable.

Moreover, this approach allows for a clear distinction between legitimate and illegitimate forms of authority or intervention. The imposition of an order that denies individual agency—even if motivated by good intentions—can have ethically unacceptable consequences if it obstructs the subject’s capacity for enduring reward. Hence, this ethical framework also becomes a defense of the principle of non-coercion: higher reward states cannot be imposed by force; they can only be cultivated through freedom, self-knowledge, and mutual respect.

Let us recall that the central high reward state—self-esteem—arises from what an individual is capable of doing, from their ability to undertake complex actions that promote life and sustain authentic growth. Coercion, by contrast, speaks to what one cannot do: it expresses the inability to pursue one’s own ends without resorting to force or aggression against others, against their property, and against their possibilities for action. In this sense, coercion not only denies others the possibility of cultivating high reward states but also becomes an obstacle for oneself, as it constitutes a mechanism antagonistic to the development of self-esteem. Coercion destroys precisely the agent-centered structure that makes deep reward possible, as in the case of self-esteem.

Accordingly, any action of one individual toward another can, at most, orient, facilitate, or inspire the emergence of high reward states in that other person—but never transfer or guarantee them. Even the most lucid advice or the most generous help always requires the active appropriation, the cognitive, rational, and emotional work of the recipient, who must integrate and channel it into a process of personal growth. The final responsibility and capacity to genuinely cultivate high reward states therefore lies with each individual in particular: no State or external agent can grant or impose them without contradicting their very nature.

It follows that the function of institutions and social interactions cannot consist in producing self-esteem from the outside—which is impossible—but rather in protecting and expanding the conditions of possibility (legal security, respect for property understood as a sphere of action, spaces for non-coercive deliberation, etc.), so that individuals, in the autonomous exercise of their agency, may unfold the behaviors that sustain their own reward. To facilitate and to orient are, therefore, compatible with the ethics of self-esteem; to impose or to coerce, by contrast, destroy the very ground upon which it can take root.

Hence, the State cannot grant high reward states; it can only facilitate the possibility of their emergence, if free individuals commit themselves to cultivating them. This implies that a significant portion of the State’s regulatory actions, in fact, initiate conflicts against individuals who pursue their ends in order to cultivate reward. Consequently, any attempt to resolve a conflict through authoritarian imposition is bound, sooner or later, to produce suffering, resentment, and moral decay, for it undermines the very notion of self-esteem and happiness—as we have discussed throughout this essay—it undermines the high reward states themselves.

A key point of this proposal is that only the individual can experience reward. This means that every ethics must begin from the individual—not because it ignores the social dimension, but because the social exists only insofar as it manifests in the experience of concrete individuals. The notions of “group,” “collective,” or “people” are abstractions, and as such, they cannot experience suffering or well-being. Only individuals can do so. Therefore, any attempt to resolve conflicts in the name of the “common good” that sacrifices concrete individuals is ethically untenable if that sacrifice entails the negation of their high reward states.

Finally, it should be noted that this ethics is neither passive nor merely contemplative. On the contrary, it offers clear tools for guiding personal and individual life, as well as for evaluating public policies at the macro level. Identifying the highest possibilities of existence to be cultivated; recognizing when a conflict denies access to high reward states; when a policy impedes the autonomous agency of individuals; or when a cultural practice generates chronic suffering—these are active ways of applying this ethical framework. The guiding principle will not be obedience to external mandates, but the intelligence to discern which conditions allow subjects to flourish.

This approach also allows for a reformulation of the concept of justice. To be just is not to apply predefined norms, but to evaluate each concrete situation in light of its impact on the reward experienced by the subjects involved. If a legal decision, a law, or a custom undermines the possibility of someone attaining states of self-esteem, inner peace, or profound happiness, then it must be revised. This does not entail a naïve subjectivism, but rather a more demanding, more empirical, and more rational ethical evaluation—one that is centered on what truly matters: the lived experience of individuals.

In sum, high reward states constitute the most reliable ethical compass for resolving human conflicts. They are not arbitrary inventions, but manifestations of our nature and of the conditions that make a life worth living possible. To resolve conflicts in accordance with these states means, ultimately, to respect the singularity of the other without renouncing one’s own, to build social systems that do not crush the individual in the name of supposed higher ends, and to remember that every life has value to the extent that it can access the best it is capable of experiencing.

To protect high reward states therefore implies, ultimately, active intervention in any situation that denies or gravely threatens them. This is not an external moral prescription, nor a norm imposed from outside the subject, but the natural consequence of understanding that reward and its higher states constitute the ultimate criterion of all meaningful human action. If the value and purpose of a life are defined by the possibility of experiencing states such as self-esteem, inner peace, conscious freedom, and profound happiness, then any attempt to prevent an individual from accessing the concrete means to cultivate such states—whether through aggression, coercion, or deprivation of their spaces and objects—must be considered ethically inadmissible.

This entails a principle of active defense: in the face of conflict, the correct course of action will be the one that restores the individual’s capacity to use their environment (property) to pursue their ends. In this sense, respect for property—understood not merely as legal possession, but as the effective possibility of using spaces and objects for one’s own purposes—becomes central. Not because property has absolute value in itself, but because it is the material condition of possibility for all action oriented toward well-being. To deprive someone of it—by force or by authoritarian imposition—is, within this ethical model, equivalent to preventing them from living a valuable life in terms of reward.

Therefore, in the face of aggression, whether physical or institutional, the defense of the individual is not an option but a requirement that follows from the very criterion of high reward states. If someone prevents another from using their time, space, or resources to develop their life project, they are denying the very foundation from which that subject can experience states of self-esteem or happiness. In such cases, intervention to restore balance—even if it involves limiting the aggressor’s capacity for action—is consistent with the ethical purpose of this framework: to maximize, in the long term, the possibility of the highest attainable reward states for all individuals involved.

It should be emphasized that such intervention should not be understood as punishment in the traditional sense, but as a pragmatic act of restoration. It is not a matter of “avenging” the harmed party, but of ensuring that the architecture of conditions enabling a good life is not destroyed by destructive actions. Within this framework, protecting an individual who has been attacked, robbed, silenced, or excluded is not merely an act of solidarity, but a defense of the minimal phenomenological order that makes human flourishing possible. Wherever someone cannot freely dispose of the means to live according to their values—that is, wherever they are prevented from acting—they have been denied access to the fullest dimension of their existence.

From a contemporary perspective, Nussbaum has argued that material, institutional, and relational conditions are essential for the development of human capabilities that enable a dignified life (Nussbaum, 2011). Among these, the capacity for autonomous agency and the possibility of developing meaningful relationships occupy a central place. This view aligns with the ethics of high reward states proposed here, as it places at the center of justice and morality the subjective well-being and effective agency of each person.

From this perspective, the concept of justice becomes inseparable from the defense of the possibility of attaining high reward states. To be just is not simply to apply formal or abstract rules, but to intervene wherever that possibility has been violated. This may involve the protection of property against looting, the defense of freedom of expression against censorship, or intervention in abusive power relations that deny the autonomy of others. In all such cases, what is being defended is not an empty principle, but the concrete structure that allows individuals to experience a valuable life.

It must also be understood that not every interference in another’s action is ethically objectionable: only that which obstructs the path toward high reward states. Naturally, those who aggress are also performing actions, but such actions must be prevented because they negate the possibility of high reward states in others. Therefore, if an individual’s action directly and demonstrably threatens another’s ability to attain deep well-being, it can and must be limited. This constitutes the ethical justification for self-defense, for the legal protection of minors, or for the use of force in strictly defensive contexts. Such interventions do not contradict the ethics of reward—they embody it.

Let us recall that individuals who perform actions that—though they may not lead to high reward states—do not infringe upon the possibilities of action of others (that is, upon property), cannot legitimately be forced to follow specific courses of action or be deprived of their goods under the pretext of promoting self-esteem. Error and poor judgment are constitutive elements of human learning; cultivating self-esteem precisely entails undergoing processes of trial, error, and rational work upon those experiences. To impose a given path by force “because we believe it to be better” amounts to undermining the dignity of the other and obstructing their autonomous development of self-esteem—a development that requires cognitive effort, affective processing, and reflective expansion of one’s evaluative framework. Consequently, it is permissible only to orient and facilitate—never to impose or to justify coercion against those who, without aggressing or usurping others, make decisions we consider suboptimal.

For this reason, it is necessary to distinguish between harmful conduct and mistaken conduct. When an action does not violate property or the possibility of another’s action, its “erroneous” character does not in itself constitute sufficient moral grounds for coercion. Indeed, self-esteem—understood as a high reward state grounded in competence, agency, and responsibility—develops through the active appropriation of learning: the subject must recognize, process, and transform their errors through reflection, practice, and emotional adjustment. Forced interference suppresses that internal process of work and transforms the experience of learning into mere external conformity—sterile with respect to the emergence of deep rewards.

From a practical and political standpoint, clear implications follow. Institutions and normative agents have the duty to protect the space for making mistakes, and at most to offer instruments that facilitate responsible deliberation and education (information, resources, non-coercive deliberative processes), without substituting for personal responsibility. Paternalism that employs coercion—even when justified by good intentions—contradicts the very criterion of self-esteem: it attempts to produce from the outside what can only be generated by the subject’s autonomous activity. Therefore, the ethics of reward requires policies that foster autonomy and the cultivation of competencies, not measures that diminish agency through imposition.

In socio-political terms, this principle thus requires that institutions aim to guarantee the possibility of autonomous action for all—not as an abstract ideal, but as the only realistic basis for harmonious coexistence. Legal security, respect for property, freedom of conscience, and protection against violence are, from this ethical perspective, necessary—though not sufficient—conditions for the good life. This also includes the protection of personal information, insofar as it constitutes part of the space through which the subject develops their identity, agency, and relationships. The violation of such information, when carried out against the ends of the individual to whom it belongs, also constitutes a form of aggression against their possibility of reward.

In summary, resolving conflicts in favor of high reward states does not imply contemplative passivity, but rather lucid and resolute action in defense of each person’s fundamental right to orient their life toward the best they are capable of experiencing. This requires recognizing when that possibility has been denied and acting to restore it—not out of ideological imposition, but out of fidelity to the very nature of human life: a life that, though devoid of ultimate meaning (as discussed in Section 4, “Transcendence Without Teleology”), can nonetheless be filled with immense potential for rational vital reward—as an end in itself—if it is allowed to flourish.

One of the most important corollaries of this reward-based ethics is that the establishment of a conflict implies not only the denial of high reward states in the other subject but also a form of self-denial. Indeed, since the highest reward states—such as self-esteem and profound happiness—can only be attained under conditions of freedom, mutual respect, and voluntary cooperation, any form of coercion structurally undermines the very possibility of those states. What is at stake here is not an external moral rule, but a functional impossibility: coercion, insofar as it entails the negation of another’s autonomy, generates an environment incompatible with sustained reward.

As Churchland (2011) observes, mutual respect and voluntary cooperation are not merely ethically desirable conditions; they have a neurobiological foundation in the reward circuits that sustain emotional stability and social trust.

This fact becomes particularly significant when considering the role of self-esteem as one of the highest rewarding states. As previously discussed, self-esteem arises from the perception that one has carried out an action that is complex, individuating, and vitally meaningful. Such an action requires freedom and self-direction—conditions that exclude subjugation and imposition.

In this sense, conflict established through domination or coercion not only destroys the possibility of high reward states in the other but inevitably also limits one’s own access to those same states. Fulfillment cannot be achieved if the very conditions that make it possible are destroyed. The ethics proposed here does not appeal to goodness as a commandment, but to a structural understanding of what enables or obstructs human flourishing. And coercion, in any form, constitutes a fundamental obstacle.

7. High reward states are enabled only within an environment of radical freedom and cannot be imposed

If the high reward states constitute the fullest horizon of human experience—that is, if states such as profound happiness, self-esteem, conscious freedom, or existential enjoyment represent the highest possible value for a person’s life—then it becomes essential to understand under what conditions these states can genuinely arise and be sustained. This phenomenological ethics, grounded in the real experience of individuals, compels us to abandon the logic of moral imposition, normative coercion, and abstract idealism, in order to focus on the concrete: What kind of environment allows an individual to flourish toward their highest experiential potential?

The answer is clear: only an environment of radical freedom enables access to the higher reward states. In other words, these states cannot be imposed from without; they cannot be mandated or dictated by an external norm, not even by a supposedly benevolent intention. Their emergence is inseparable from the subject’s self-determination—from their capacity to act in accordance with their own ends, values, and associations, without coercion or manipulation. Freedom is not an optional adornment within this ethical framework; it is the very condition of possibility for what the framework itself seeks to preserve.

Therefore, the high reward states presuppose an environment of radical freedom in which the agent can choose, err, correct, and reconfigure their life project. This is not merely the absence of external coercion, but the material and psychological capacity to act in accordance with one’s own narrative identity. Without this space for self-determination, reward degrades into mere reactive gratification. To impose by decree the contents of a “good life” reduces the high reward state to an empty product: it may generate behavioral conformity, but not the sustained subjective correlate that defines it.

The imposition of an end, even if it appears to yield some benefit, constitutes a form of oppression when it disregards the active role of the subject in constructing their own well-being.

This point requires careful elaboration. What we call radical freedom is not limited to the mere absence of physical or legal restrictions; it refers to the real possibility of orienting one’s life according to one’s own ends, values, and meaningful associations, in a context where those ends can be realized without external impositions that distort the subject’s ultimate criterion: reward. It is not simply about “doing whatever one wants,” but about being able to act guided by one’s own hierarchy of values—those constructed by the subject on the basis of experience, biography, biology, and understanding of the world.

This means that any attempt to impose a supposed “good” upon another by force—even if presented as a desirable or “higher” state—is, in fact, a negation of the very process through which that good could arise authentically. There can be no genuine self-esteem if the subject’s action has been nullified by another. There can be no true happiness if the path leading to it was not freely traveled. There can be no life purpose if one’s existential project has been dictated from the outside, as an obligation. The elevated reward states are inseparable from personal agency—they are expressions, not impositions.

Here a fundamental ethical principle becomes evident, as previously emphasized: the high reward states are non-transferable and unenforceable. No one can bestow them upon another by decree, nor produce them through force. They can only be attained through the subject’s free action, in dialogue with their own values and within an environment that respects their limits, their space, their time, their means, and their autonomy. For this reason, freedom is non-negotiable; it is not secondary—it is constitutive of the very process that enables a good life. Hence, every policy, norm, or institution that imposes ends upon individuals without respecting this dynamic is doomed to generate suffering, resentment, or moral decay, however noble its intentions may be.

The principle of non-coercion thus emerges as a logical consequence, not as an externally imposed rule. This is not about adopting a libertarian stance out of ideological dogma, but about understanding that coercion destroys the very conditions of deep reward, with self-esteem as its core and guiding axis. To be forced to act in a way that conflicts with our values ruptures the process of meaning-making, damages our self-esteem, strips us of ownership over our ends, and leaves us empty—even when, outwardly, we appear to be fulfilling what is expected.

The psychology of self-determination (Self-Determination Theory), developed by Deci and Ryan, provides empirical support for this idea by identifying three basic psychological needs for well-being: autonomy, competence, and relatedness (Deci & Ryan, 2000). Among these, autonomy—the ability to act according to one’s own will—is indispensable for an action to be experienced as authentic and rewarding. When autonomy is curtailed, even seemingly “positive” actions lose their beneficial effect, generating internal dissonance or distress. This suggests that external imposition nullifies not only freedom but also effective access to deep states of well-being.

This framework calls into question any form of authority that dictates from the outside a definition of the good, of duty, or of purpose. Imposed morality—whether religious, ideological, or technocratic—denies the phenomenological nature of values and ignores the fact that only concrete individuals can experience reward. No one can feel on behalf of another, nor decide what makes them happy. Thus, imposing a way of life on someone, even when justified in the name of “higher” ideals, is ethically untenable, for it frustrates precisely what it claims to preserve: human flourishing.

As contemporary philosopher Joseph Raz has pointed out, personal autonomy is not merely one value among others, but a structural condition for the validity of values themselves: for values to be truly ours, they must be chosen by us (Raz, 1986). This means that even the most elevated conceptions of the good lose their legitimacy if they cannot be embraced by the subject through their own judgment and freedom. Hence, any external moral system that seeks to impose itself, even with “noble” aims, is doomed to fail as an ethical project.

An ethics grounded in high reward states, therefore, cannot be separated from a comprehensive defense of individual freedom. But this freedom is neither abstract nor merely formal: it is insufficient to declare that someone is “free” if, in practice, they are denied access to the means necessary to pursue their own ends. For this reason, radical freedom also entails the right to property—understood as the ability to use spaces and objects to serve one’s purposes—and the protection of that property against usurpation, coercion, or destruction. To deny a person’s property is to deny their capacity for action, and thus, to deny them access to any sustainable state of reward.

This becomes especially relevant in contexts of conflict. As previously discussed, ethical conflict can be redefined as the collision between ends that deny another person their ability to act toward their own ends, thereby obstructing the cultivation of higher reward states. If an individual prevents another from acting according to their own goals—by restricting their freedom, expropriating their resources, or controlling their body—they are blocking that person’s access to the highest existential possibilities of a good life. In such cases, not only is defense justified; it becomes an ethical duty toward the principle of reward itself. Not by virtue of an externally imposed law, but because preserving the other’s freedom is the only way to preserve our own—and, consequently, to sustain the conditions that make our own reward possible.

Thus, the imposition of ideals—even when well-intentioned—destroys the very process of searching that gives meaning and reward to the subject. Virtue, peace, love, purpose, or existential enjoyment cannot be coerced, because their value derives precisely from having been freely chosen and cultivated. There can be no self-esteem if one has been forced. There can be no peace if one has been subdued. There can be no genuine love if it has been compelled, nor purpose if it has been imposed. In all such cases, violence against another’s freedom destroys the very possibility of attaining what one sought to impose.

An ethics of flourishing therefore demands a politics of minimums: rather than dictating how individuals ought to live, it must ensure that everyone has the possibility to live according to their own ends. This does not entail a slide into nihilistic relativism, but rather an acknowledgment that only from freedom can an authentic hierarchy of values emerge. And it is precisely there that the best of the human condition manifests itself: when individuals, in freedom, orient their lives toward profound reward states—not out of obligation, but because they have discovered for themselves that this is the way to live best.

This also entails a severe critique of systems that infantilize the subject, assuming that he does not know what is best for him, that he must be guided, tutored, or “corrected” by experts, leaders, or institutions. Such well-intentioned paternalism ultimately nullifies individual responsibility and self-esteem, replacing the process of maturation with a form of control that precisely inhibits the development of consciousness, self-determination, and genuine reward. Respect for freedom is not merely a limit to external intervention: it is a commitment to the individual’s capacity to find his own path toward profound well-being.

To the critique of paternalism must be added, within the framework of high reward states and radical freedom, a clear critique of collectivism: when normative priority shifts from individual agency to the fulfillment of collective goals, what occurs is not merely an external limitation, but the colonization of the internal processes through which self-esteem is constructed—that is, the capacity to experience deep rewards arising from competence, learning, and autonomous effort. This subordination imposes uniformity of ends and modes of action, reduces the space for the errors necessary to learning, and transforms the acquisition of skills into mere external conformity, thereby depriving individuals of the experiential inputs that nourish the higher states of reward.

From a neuroscientific perspective, states of profound well-being are closely tied to the perception of control and personal agency. Studies on intrinsic motivation show that activation of the dopaminergic system—linked to reward—is greater when achievements result from free choice and autonomous effort (Leotti, Iyengar & Ochsner, 2010). In other words, the biological structure of reward is designed to reinforce self-determination. This suggests that even from the standpoint of the brain, it is not possible to experience genuine reward if the action was coerced or manipulated.

Normative centralization and the claim that authorities or society as a whole should “decide for everyone” often ignore the dispersed and situated knowledge that each agent contributes to his own practical life, with well-known consequences for efficacy and adaptability—a classical objection to centralized planning.

In terms of justice and institutional design, the capabilities approach reaffirms that the kind of freedom that is valuable is, above all, the real possibility of acting as an agent; the collectivist logic that prioritizes collective ends over the expansion of individual capabilities stands in direct tension with the goal of promoting deep and sustainable rewards.

This objection to collectivism aligns with the liberal defense of limits on intervention in individual life: only non-coercion and respect for the sphere of personal decision allow self-esteem to be cultivated.

From this perspective, the ethics proposed here is profoundly humanistic. It trusts in the motivational nature of the human being, recognizes his capacity for agency, and promotes an environment in which individuals can discover for themselves what grants them purpose, peace, existential enjoyment, self-esteem, or happiness. It does not dictate a single path, but ensures that individuals may walk their own without coercion. And this requires not only the absence of repression, but the presence of real conditions: time, space, property, respect, physical and psychological integrity, and above all, non-interference in the determination of one’s own ends.

Radical freedom is not merely a political proposal, but an ethical, psychological, and existential necessity. It is the ground upon which the highest values of human life can germinate. It is what enables individuals to form bonds not out of fear, but out of choice; to pursue projects not out of pressure, but out of desire; and to experience life not as an imposed duty, but as an opportunity to express the best of oneself. Wherever freedom is annulled, virtue does not flourish, but empty obedience. Peace does not flourish, but conformism. And self-esteem does not flourish, but dependency.

In this sense, the defense of radical freedom is also a defense of respect: respect for the other’s uniqueness, for his right to err, to change, to rebuild himself. An ethics of reward does not demand perfection, but authenticity. And this is only possible within a framework where decisions have real consequences, where mistakes teach, and where achievements are one’s own. Only there can a life be built that is felt as valuable. Every attempt to control this process from the outside—by force or manipulation—destroys precisely that which it claims to protect.

For this reason, respect for the freedom of others is not an altruistic gesture, but a structural requirement of this ethical framework. There can be no elevated reward without freedom, and no freedom is possible without respect for that of others. There is no genuine self-esteem when we coerce others—only an expression that we are not truly cultivating it within ourselves. This relational principle is the foundation of any form of coexistence that aspires to something more than mere tolerance. It entails a shared commitment to the good life, where each person can access the best within himself without being compelled to self-betrayal. And this is not achieved through dogmas, punishments, or heavenly promises, but by ensuring an environment in which every individual may exercise his agency with dignity, in harmony with others who are doing the same.

Ultimately, high states of reward cannot arise under coercion. They are born of freedom. There is no other path. An authentic ethics does not seek to mold the other according to a preconceived ideal, but to safeguard the ground upon which he may grow in accordance with his own nature. Just as a flower cannot be forced to bloom, a human being cannot be forced to experience peace, self-esteem, or meaning. One can only tend the space where such experiences become possible. And that space is called radical freedom.

Radical freedom is not only a condition for individual reward but also for the adaptive plasticity of society. A system that allows for the experimentation of multiple forms of life generates a broader portfolio of action strategies, thereby increasing collective resilience in the face of environmental change. From this perspective, the uniformization of citizens’ ends—even when driven by the intention to maximize a supposed common good—reduces the diversity of life experiments and, consequently, the capacity to discover novel configurations of high reward states. The ethics proposed here, being individualistic at its core, is also evolutionarily robust: it incentivizes moral and practical innovation, for each agent explores and validates his own path toward flourishing and the higher states of reward.

8. Implications for Society and Politics: The Genuine Role of the State

Every comprehensive ethical framework must assume its social and political implications. If we hold that the higher states of reward—self-esteem, profound happiness, conscious freedom, inner peace, and existential enjoyment—constitute the ultimate criterion for evaluating our actions, then this thesis cannot remain confined to the individual sphere. It must necessarily extend to institutions and to the functioning of the State. The fundamental ethical question at the political level thus becomes: what kind of social organization allows individuals the possibility of cultivating those states? What role should the State play within this framework?

It is crucial to note that the question concerns the conditions that enable the cultivation of high reward states, not those that guarantee them. As we have seen, such states cannot be assured or imposed externally; they depend upon individuals and their private initiative. Indeed, one could theorize a situation in which, under a welfare or paternalistic state, a considerable number of people—or even the majority—achieve a somewhat higher level of material well-being and security than they might under, for instance, a laissez-faire capitalist system. Yet insofar as the individual, as an entity, is denied the possibility of cultivating the highest attainable reward states, such welfare or paternalistic arrangements are contrary to this ethical framework and must be deemed immoral and rejected.

As we have observed, the person’s or individual’s highest existential possibilities are the most elevated reward states he can develop. To cultivate self-esteem and profound happiness requires property, complete autonomy, self-organization, and control over one’s vital time—the enjoyment of one’s entire life span and of the labor and energy invested in developing one’s skills and projects. Welfare or paternalistic states—and, in fact, any regime outside an absolute republican rule of law that protects individual rights—suffer from a grave flaw: their actions rest upon coercion and the denial of precisely those factors—property, full autonomy, self-organization, control of vital time, and the ability to enjoy the entirety of one’s life and the energy invested in personal growth.

They thus negate the possibility of the individual, as an entity, to cultivate high reward states. It may be that a certain group benefits materially and experiences improved well-being through such coercion, but this occurs at the expense of other individuals whose rights, autonomy, property, and self-organization are curtailed—individuals who possess the same right to enjoy the full use of their time and energy to cultivate, according to their own criteria, the paths toward self-esteem and profound happiness; that is, the same right to the highest reward states possible.

Such reasoning once again collapses into an “arithmetical” consequentialism, which attempts to add up well-being across a greater number of people and weigh it as superior to the well-being of fewer subjects—or even against the highest well-being of a single individual. We have already shown why this reasoning is fallacious and have explored two thought experiments that exemplify the problem. Our ethics of reward takes the individual as an end in himself, with his own highest attainable reward states as the ultimate criterion, and with his property (as we have defined it) as the expression of his capacity to cultivate those states. For this reason, every person has the right to the full use of his time and labor/energy; it cannot be proposed or imposed that any group, under any circumstances, may absorb or appropriate the life, time, or labor/energy of others.

We must bear in mind a crucial point underlying the understanding of an objective ethics such as the one proposed here: the characteristic imposition of a welfare or paternalistic state lacks, by principle, any ultimate ontological justification. As we argued in “Transcendence Without Teleology,” there exists no ultimate reason in reality that compels obedience or justifies any command or duty, even assuming the existence of a deity. As a corollary, there is no metaphysical connection between subjects that transforms another’s need into an ontological obligation to sacrifice one’s own ends. Therefore, when we are coerced against our will, we must remember that such coercion is justified solely by the desires and goals of a group of people—desires not metaphysically sanctioned by any imperative to impose them—but simply the imposition of their will upon ours.

Indeed, as we have seen, there is no ultimate metaphysical justification for pursuing or cultivating the higher states of reward, nor for treating them as the ultimate criterion of action and conflict resolution. Yet insofar as we understand that these constitute the highest possibilities of human life—the most elevated experiences available to consciousness—and that they rest upon objective criteria, we have good reason to defend them and to aspire to apply this ethics within a normative framework, as a guide for institutions and for the State, so as not to transgress them.

Within a framework in which the ultimate criterion of action is the maximization of the higher states of reward—self-esteem, profound happiness, and agentive coherence—any act of coercion that replaces individual initiative with an external mandate erodes the very conditions necessary for those states to emerge and to be cultivated. The literature and arguments analyzed in this essay demonstrate that high reward states require property, autonomy, self-organization, and control over one’s vital time; impositions that expropriate these conditions (even when promising immediate material well-being) ultimately negate the very possibility of cultivating self-esteem and sustained happiness, both for those subjected to coercion and for those whose time and energy are appropriated by it.

This double negation is structural: for the assisted individual, the experience of being aided under coercive conditions transforms the agent–world relationship into passivity; what might have been a process of skill development, agency, and tonic reward accumulation becomes functional dependency, reducing the likelihood that durable reward states will arise. For the compelled assistant, the forced sacrifice of personal ends—the loss of total vital time, the appropriation of productive energy, or the expropriation of authorship over projects—not only diminishes his opportunities to attain higher states of reward but also displaces the nature of his motivations toward resentment, loss of agency, and fleeting hedonic episodes that fail to integrate into sustainable self-esteem. Thus, paternalistic imposition operates as a form of double amputation of the conditions of flourishing.

However, the absence of a metaphysical mandate making distant assistance obligatory does not entail moral neutrality toward the suffering of others. We live within contexts of interdependence in which prudential, compassionate, and benevolent reasons may legitimately ground acts of voluntary aid; yet such reasons must be rigorously distinguished from any claim of an ontological duty that would justify coercion. In other words, the existence of need—whether “across the world” or “next door”—creates moral reasons for voluntary solidarity and for designing institutions that facilitate cooperation, but it does not, in itself, generate an ultimate justification for imposing sacrifices on others, since such imposition contravenes the necessary condition for higher reward states: the agent’s radical freedom to self-reference his own ends.

Of course, the argument is not absolutist in its practical application: exceptions exist when coercive action serves to safeguard the very possibility of reward (for example, defense against aggression, the protection of minors incapable of cultivating autonomy, and extreme survival situations where inaction would destroy the possibility of even basic reward states). In these cases, recourse to coercive action may be proportionally justified as a defense of the conditions of possibility—not as the expression of a metaphysical duty—and must be understood as a last resort, governed by principles that prioritize the restoration of agency and autonomy to the greatest extent possible, as will be discussed in the following section concerning limiting cases.

Consequently, the normative conclusion is reaffirmed: a legitimate institutional design does not transform assistance into imposition. The State—if it aims to respect and promote the higher states of reward—must restrict itself to guaranteeing the conditions of possibility (basic security, protection of property understood as the use of spaces and objects in accordance with individual ends), rather than substituting, through coercion, the autonomous activity of individuals. Welfare or paternalistic systems that impose ends from above may achieve temporary material gains, but they undermine the temporal and agentive structures necessary for the emergence of profound and sustainable rewards; therefore, except in the exceptional cases noted above, such policies must be rejected as contrary to human flourishing.

The answer, then, to the conditions of possibility for the higher states of reward, according to the model developed here, is as clear as it is demanding: the only legitimate role of the State is to protect the conditions that make it possible for each individual to attain high states of reward by himself and through voluntary collaboration with others. This means that the State must not impose values, ends, or models of life, but rather guarantee the possibility for each person, within the bounds of mutual respect, to develop his own ends without coercion or destructive interference. The State should exist not as a moral director, but as a defender of the conditions of possibility.

The role of the State must thus be defined negatively—to prevent interferences that destroy the possibility of high reward states—and positively—to create minimal conditions of security, justice, and opportunity so that each individual may pursue them. This ethics rejects, as stated earlier, the paternalistic vision that turns the State into the central designer of life projects; its legitimacy depends on public policies functioning as infrastructure of possibility, not as the imposition of ends. The State, therefore, is the guarantor of the playing field, not the coach dictating the game plan.

Traditionally, many political theories have conceived of the State as a moral agent, a collective tutor charged with defining and promoting what is “good” for its citizens. This logic manifests itself in ideologies that seek to mold human behavior from above—be they theocracies, totalitarian states, or paternalistic democracies that impose lifestyles under the pretext of the common good. However, such a model is deeply inconsistent with the ethics of high reward states. As already discussed, elevated states of reward cannot be imposed or produced externally; they require radical freedom, self-determination, and a sphere of autonomous action.

This demands that the State be minimalist in its ideological pretensions yet firm in its defense of certain fundamental operational principles: the protection of the individual against aggression, the safeguarding of property understood as the legitimate use of spaces and objects for one’s own ends, and the resolution of conflicts according to the principle of non-interference without justification.

This principle is also implicit in the political philosophy of Robert Nozick, who argues that a minimal state—limited to the functions of protecting against violence, fraud, and theft, and administering contracts—is the only one compatible with respect for individual rights (Nozick, 1974). For Nozick, any expansion of the state’s role beyond these functions entails a form of unjustified coercion that violates the individual’s autonomy and his right to self-definition.

One of the central implications of this proposal is the revaluation of property, not in a merely legal or economic sense, but in an ontological and existential one. As outlined in previous sections, property is not an accessory right but the concrete condition from which the subject can act. Property here refers not only to material goods but to the real possibility of using spaces, vital time, objects, and information for the realization of individual ends.

To deny this possibility is to deny the agency of the subject and, consequently, his capacity to cultivate high states of reward. A State that expropriates arbitrarily, restricts the free use of personal spaces and means, or dilutes the distinction between what is one’s own and what belongs to others, is not promoting well-being—it is destroying the very conditions that make it possible.

Therefore, the State’s primary duty within this model is to protect the individual’s property, understood as the manifestation of his operative freedom in the world. This entails protecting it not only from private aggression but also from state abuse. The State must not become an aggressor disguised as a benefactor. If it does, it transforms into an ethically illegitimate structure, even when acting with the best of intentions.

The political scientist James C. Scott has shown with great depth how modern states’ attempts to “make society legible”—through centralized planning, normalization, and control—tend to produce unforeseen harms by disregarding local knowledge, personal aims, and spontaneous forms of organization (Scott, 1998). This tendency toward enlightened control, though often well-intentioned, undermines precisely the conditions that allow individuals to live fulfilled lives. In this sense, institutional design must begin from the recognition of the subject’s irreducible opacity and the necessity of preserving his autonomy.

The immediate corollary is that the State has a legitimate function in the domains of security and justice. Yet this function does not consist in imposing a particular morality, but in intervening only when one person prevents another from acting freely toward his legitimate ends—that is, when his property or integrity is violated. In such cases, the State acts not as redeemer or reformer, but as defender. Its intervention is justified exclusively in terms of preserving the conditions that allow all individuals involved to continue their pursuit of high states of reward.

This redefines the concept of justice in a profound way. To be just is not to apply general rules blindly, but to evaluate whether a specific action or policy negatively affects the individual’s capacity to live fully. A law may be formally valid yet ethically illegitimate if it interferes with that possibility. Thus, the judicial role should not consist in enforcing decontextualized norms, but in safeguarding the conditions of possibility for human well-being.

The political framework that emerges from this ethics is neither conservative nor progressive, neither liberal nor communitarian in traditional terms. It is a framework centered on the lived reality of concrete individuals. Its sole compass is the sustainable maximization of high reward states. This gives politics a clear operational criterion: every public decision must be evaluated not by its adherence to an ideology, but by its real impact on citizens’ ability to attain those states.

This hierarchical criterion avoids both cultural relativism—which justifies destructive practices in the name of tradition—and moral absolutism—which imposes abstract principles without considering their effect on individuals’ self-esteem and happiness. For instance, a policy that prohibits certain cultural expressions may be ethically unacceptable if it blocks access to meaning or recognition for those who practice them. But likewise, a traditional practice may be legitimately questioned if it sustains chronic suffering, dependency, or personal degradation. In all cases, the criterion is the felt good life—self-esteem and deep happiness—not tradition or doctrine.

This ethical-political model also allows a reformulation of rights. Rights are neither metaphysical entities nor arbitrary concessions of the State; they are concrete manifestations of the possibility of acting toward high reward states. In this sense, all legitimate rights can be reduced to a single essential form: the right to use spaces and objects for one’s own ends, without destructive interference. This definition is empirical, verifiable, and carries clear political consequences: wherever an individual cannot exercise this kind of agency, there is a violation of his fundamental right—even if no written law has been breached.

Likewise, duties are not transcendental imperatives but rational and pragmatic correlates of mutual respect for each person’s path toward reward. The only generalizable duty is not to interfere with another’s pursuit of his legitimate ends. Any other duty can arise only from free agreement, not from ideological or legal imposition.

Another central principle of this proposal is that the subjects of ethics are always individuals, not abstract collectives. There is no such thing as “the people” as a sentient subject. Only individuals can experience pain, well-being, peace, or fulfillment. Therefore, any attempt to justify individual sacrifices in the name of collective entities—the nation, the party, the community, the future, and so on—is ethically invalid if it denies the sacrificed individual real access to high states of reward.

This critique echoes the warning of Simone Weil, who denounced the totalizing power of collective abstractions: “Human collectives are not persons, and therefore have no heart, no blood, no soul; thus, the notion of good and evil cannot be applied to them” (Weil, 1949/2002). Since collectives cannot experience suffering or fulfillment, assigning them moral value above individuals ultimately serves to justify all forms of illegitimate sacrifice.

This does not entail rejecting the social dimension, but rather reintegrating it into its authentic function: to serve as the medium through which individuals voluntarily cooperate in order to enhance their personal paths toward the higher states of reward. In this model, the collective is not an end in itself, but an instrument that can—and must—be judged according to whether it promotes or obstructs individual flourishing.

The model presented here is not naively individualistic. It recognizes that there are circumstances in which conflict is inevitable, and where certain interventions are necessary to restore the conditions of possibility for the good life. Yet such interventions must not exceed their function: they are tools for restoring balance, not for imposing ends. State intervention is legitimate only when it responds to an attack or a direct threat to the possibility of autonomous action.

This limit is crucial. Once the State arrogates to itself the right to intervene beyond this minimal defense—for instance, to redistribute according to imposed notions of “justice,” to promote “values” defined from above, or to regulate “the common good”—it becomes an aggressor in disguise. In doing so, it betrays the very purpose that justifies its existence: the preservation of the conditions that allow each person to access the highest states of their own life.

This approach implies a profound transformation of the political paradigm. The center is no longer power, national identity, or economic growth per se, but rather the structure that enables each individual to flourish without being crushed—either by others or by the State itself. The goal is not control, imposed order, or productive efficiency, but the maximization of vital possibilities for every subject. And to achieve this, what is needed is not more control, but more genuine freedom: more protected property, greater freedom of expression, deeper respect for difference, and more paths unblocked by fear, coercion, or central planning.

A final point to emphasize is the myth of the tribunal of sages or the council of the just: a group of individuals supposedly endowed with the special capacity to decide what is right, just, or good for others. This conception runs from Platonic utopias to contemporary technocratic models, encompassing paternalistic systems of government, ethical committees, and enlightened elites who, in the name of knowledge or virtue, assume the right to determine what individuals should do, pursue, or value.

However, this idea is profoundly antithetical to the ethics of reward proposed here. If, as has been argued, the higher states of reward—self-esteem, profound happiness, conscious freedom, inner peace—constitute the ultimate and real criterion of the good life and of maximal vital possibilities, then it is not possible for a third party, however wise, to legitimately determine another person’s ends.

This follows from three fundamental points. First, no one can experience reward on behalf of another; therefore, no one can externally decide what will enable another to flourish. Agency is not replaceable. Second, the higher states of reward cannot, by their very nature, be imposed. Certain policies may enforce a degree of well-being, but never a deep reward such as self-esteem or profound happiness. Indeed, in the face of imposition, the tension and contradiction between coercion and the autonomy required by self-esteem and happiness ultimately undermine any well-being of a fully conscious individual (one aware of his highest possibilities). Third, human beings are fallible, which means that even the wisest or most learned among them may err in determining a value, and by imposing it upon society, they effectively negate the possibility of individuals attaining their own higher states of reward.

When a sage—or a tribunal of sages—imposes a decision that obstructs an individual’s access to his own higher states of reward, he is not correcting that person’s life; he is denying him the possibility of the best he can experience. This is not merely an error, but a structural contradiction with the central principle of this ethics. Any system that seeks the good of individuals at the cost of their freedom to determine it ultimately betrays that very good.

The higher states of reward are not only, by their nature, non-transferable and impossible to impose coercively, but even if one were to accept the authority of a council of sages or any political institution that claimed to guide individuals toward such states, that authority would remain necessarily confined within the bounds of human fallibility. No criterion, however carefully reasoned or consensually established, can ever claim absolute infallibility.

Consequently, any decision adopted by a collective body always runs the risk of becoming an obstacle that—far from fostering—limits or even nullifies the possibility that certain individuals might attain the highest states of reward accessible to them through their own discernment. In fact, if an individual, by exercising his own judgment, manages to experience such states to a greater extent than that proposed by political authority or a council, the imposition of the latter becomes a barrier that directly undermines the individual’s full realization and, ultimately, the very essence of the principle it seeks to promote.

The tribunal of sages, therefore, does not represent an elevation of politics, but a subtle form of violence: it replaces the individual’s judgment with an external reason, under the presumption of a superior moral truth. Yet that truth, if it contradicts the concrete experience of reward, becomes sterile or even harmful. The imposition of “the good” from without destroys the very process through which the good can truly be lived.

From the standpoint of this ethics, the aim is not to reject wisdom or counsel, but to reject their normative absolutization. Wisdom is legitimate only when it is offered as guidance, not when it is imposed as law. The higher states of reward require radical freedom, and such freedom includes the right to err, to experiment, and to construct meaning autonomously. A political model that transfers ultimate moral judgment to a council of sages does not promote higher reward—it renders it impossible.

Hence, any institutionalization of moral judgment in the hands of a few must be viewed with caution. Justice will not arise from those who claim superior knowledge, but from ensuring that each person may live more fully, according to his own path toward the best he can experience.

The institutional implications are precise: public policies and private organizations must be oriented toward expanding possibilities (in the public sphere) and capacities (in the private sphere) that render the higher states of reward accessible without coercion. This requires prioritizing education that cultivates agentic competencies, designing non-coercive incentives, legally protecting autonomy, and implementing deliberative mechanisms within current social conditions that preferentially eliminate—or at least minimize—paternalistic imposition. The institutional objective will not be to maximize a utilitarian sum of pleasures, but to create structural conditions (freedom, basic security) that maximize the probability of generating and sustaining higher states of reward for the greatest possible diversity of individuals.

The State must be an institution in the service of the highest that a human being can attain, and this can only be achieved by protecting what is most fundamental: the individual’s possibility of acting freely toward his ends, in an environment where others can do the same. Any form of power that forgets this inevitably becomes, sooner or later, a negation of the very value it claims to safeguard.

A practical consequence of this view is that institutional design must be dynamic and revisable: policies should incorporate feedback mechanisms that measure their impact on Integrated Reward Indexes (IRIs) at the population level and adjust incentives based on longitudinal evidence. This requires transparency in impact models, citizen participation in the calibration of priorities, and limitation of direct coercion to cases where another’s possibility of reward is threatened. In this way, the State becomes a system of social learning that optimizes the conditions for flourishing—always under democratic control and with respect for the diversity of life projects.

9. Limit Cases

Within the framework of the proposed ethics—centered on the higher states of reward as the ultimate criterion for guiding action and resolving conflict—limit cases constitute a crucial instance for theoretical testing and refinement. Such cases not only confront the subject with extreme dilemmas, but also compel the stretching of the proposed principles to their conceptual boundaries, thereby revealing both their heuristic power and their operational limits. In this section, we shall analyze various ethically critical scenarios in light of the paradigm of reward, with the aim of demonstrating how this new ethical model can provide a robust framework for resolution, even in situations where traditional moral systems tend to collapse into paradox or relativism.

As Nagel (1979) observed, genuine moral dilemmas are not resolved merely by applying a general principle, but by recognizing that real conflicts of values reveal the complexity of human moral life. The value of an ethical system does not lie in its capacity to offer automatic solutions, but in its ability to sustain deliberation in contexts where no answer is ideal. In this sense, the ethics of reward demonstrates its strength by integrating both the subjective dimension and the situational context.

A limit case, in the ethical domain, is a situation in which ordinary moral principles come into conflict or prove insufficient to provide clear guidance. These are contexts in which the usual conditions for deliberation are compromised: extreme scarcity of resources, immediacy of consequences, radical uncertainty, asymmetries of power, or collisions between irreconcilable subjective ends. In such scenarios, ethical systems based on fixed rules, transcendental mandates, or utilitarian maximization tend to reveal their structural weaknesses.

The ethics of the higher states of reward, by contrast, begins from a more dynamic principle: the right action is that which sustainably fosters subjective states of high reward—states that do not arise from repression or alienation, but from the free expression of the subject within intersubjective contexts. This criterion introduces a distinctive sensitivity to dilemmas, for it does not seek to apply impersonal rules, but to optimize the environments in which persons can exercise their agency toward deeply meaningful and gratifying experiences.

A classical type of limit case is that of personal sacrifice for a greater good. Consider the trolley problem: a person must decide whether to pull a lever to divert a trolley that would otherwise kill five people, knowing that by doing so, it will kill one. Utilitarian responses prioritize the counting of lives, whereas certain deontological positions refuse to use a person as a means to save others.

From the perspective of the higher states of reward, the question shifts: what configuration of action fosters a higher state of reward, both in the agent and in those affected, over time? This reframing requires considering not only the immediate consequences but also the existential and relational trajectories involved.

One paradigmatic example of a true limit case is the defense of a very young child who has not yet developed conscious ends of his own. Why do we defend the life of an infant who has not yet formed purposes, values, or an integrated conception of self?

From the standpoint of the ethics of the higher states of reward, the answer does not lie in a transcendental notion of “inherent value,” but in the potentiality of that being to cultivate and attain higher states of reward in the future. The child represents a life in potential: a biological structure capable of becoming a full subject, free, able to establish ends, to experience meaning, deep joy, and well-being.

This notion of potentiality recalls the Aristotelian concept of entelecheia, according to which a being possesses value insofar as it is capable of realizing its own form in act (Metaphysics, IX, 1050a). The life of an unrealized child possesses ethical dignity because it contains within itself the possibility of developing toward rational, emotional, and spiritual fulfillment. The approach proposed here recovers that logic but reformulates it in contemporary terms: what is valuable is not only the essential form, but the possibility of attaining higher states of reward.

The defense of the child’s life, then, need not be grounded in absolute rights or in moral duties imposed by an external authority, but in the recognition that this being is not yet, but can be. To deny that possibility is to sever, at its root, the emergence of a subjective horizon of reward. Thus, defending the young child is not so much an ethical act toward what is—though it includes that—as it is an act toward what can be: a radical affirmation of life as possibility. This dimension of possibility grants rights where others see none, precisely because of the absence of certain specific qualities, such as a higher degree of consciousness or conscious activity as such.

This, however, does not imply that any intervention in defense of the infant is thereby justified—for example, the imposition of a specific educational model against the will of the parents. Ethical action must also weigh the broader context, the consequences for third parties, and whether the intervention effectively expands or diminishes access to future states of reward for both the child and those around him (taking into account the issues raised by the notion of a “tribunal of sages,” as discussed previously). Within this framework, parenthood, guardianship, and the protection of minors are not grounded in naturalized hierarchies, but in the ethical commitment to allow freedom and reward to emerge where they have not yet been formed.

This same logic can—and indeed must—be extended to other beings whose capacity for agency or moral deliberation is limited or absent, yet whose lives are likewise marked by the possibility of experiencing reward.

This structural understanding of value has implications not only for relations among autonomous subjects, but also demands extension to the “limit cases” of individuals who, by virtue of their development or condition, cannot consciously establish complex ends—again, very young children, persons with severe cognitive disabilities, or nonhuman animals. Far from being excluded from the ethical domain, these cases constitute a critical axis for evaluating the consistency of any moral model.

Also included among the limit cases must be those nonhuman sentient beings who, although incapable of deliberating about abstract ends or complex goals, nonetheless possess neurobiological structures analogous to those of humans, which enable them to experience positive and negative affective states. The presence of a developed central nervous system, the display of behaviors motivated by pleasure and the avoidance of pain, as well as learning conditioned by rewarding stimuli, indicate that many animals share with us the capacity to undergo differentiated forms of reward. This reward is not limited to the satisfaction of physiological needs but also encompasses exploratory behavior, spontaneous play, affective bonding, and emotional expression—all of which suggest the existence of organized internal states that transcend mere sensory reactivity.

To accept this evidence is to broaden the scope of ethics toward these beings—not through a metaphysical attribution of value, but through an empirical recognition: if they can experience subjective well-being, then they can—albeit to varying degrees—inhabit states of reward that structure their experience, even if these are not comparable to the higher states of reward attainable by human beings.

To deny this possibility would be to restrict the ethical principle to an arbitrary taxonomic boundary. On the contrary, an ethics grounded in reward as its ultimate criterion must necessarily include all beings whose lives can be affected in terms of pleasure, well-being, or suffering. Thus, ethical treatment of animals is not based on sentimental assumption but on the structural coherence of the system: to prevent their access to rewarding states or to subject them to suffering constitutes a transgression of the very principle that grounds the validity of our own actions. This does not entail equating humans and animals, but rather recognizing that, insofar as they experience some degree of reward at varying levels of complexity depending on the species, an ethical consideration applies there as well—since moral value is founded on the subjective experience of well-being.

From this perspective, although such beings cannot formulate abstract goals or deliberate about their actions, they nevertheless possess the capacity to experience states of reward or suffering. Therefore, the fundamental ethical principle—to maximize states of reward and minimize suffering—remains fully in force. The criterion is not strictly self-consciousness or rationality, detached from the potential for reward, but affective sensitivity and its possibility. Nonetheless, we must recognize that higher levels of intelligence and cognitive complexity allow for the emergence of higher states of reward, such as self-esteem and profound happiness. For this reason, human beings hold priority in the protection and defense of our rights over those of animals.

Therefore, if a subject—for example, someone in a coma—were to later recover their normal state of consciousness, the temporary absence of consciousness would not entail a loss of rights, since the possibility of attaining higher states of reward in the future persists. Even in cases of cognitive deterioration, damage, or disability, insofar as such states may still emerge, albeit attenuated, the person retains rights. And since the capacity for reward lies at the foundation, we must also extend certain considerations to non-human animals; it would be unjustifiable to make discretionary use of them or to inflict unnecessary suffering.

This broadening of moral consideration is not arbitrary. Developmental neuroscience, for instance, has demonstrated that even in the early stages of infancy, the brain exhibits organized responses to positive and negative stimuli, prior to the emergence of language or symbolic thought (Kuhl, 2004). Similarly, numerous studies in cognitive ethology and neurobiology have shown that many animal species possess highly conserved evolutionary systems of reward and aversion, thereby justifying moral inclusion based on sentience (Broom, 2014).

In the same vein, the work of Frans de Waal (2006) has shown that many animal species exhibit not only empathy and cooperation but also forms of relational justice that arise within complex social structures. These observations support the idea that non-human animals, even though they do not articulate abstract values, nonetheless possess normative experiences that must be ethically acknowledged. Reward and suffering do not require language to be real; they manifest in behavior, neurobiology, and observable affectivity.

Within this framework, coercing, neglecting, or mistreating those who cannot defend themselves or express their own ends is not merely ethically unacceptable—it is structurally incongruent with the proposed ethical system. Ensuring that such individuals have the possibility of living rewarding experiences represents one of the clearest expressions of moral coherence, as it does not stem from utilitarian or contractual calculation but from the affirmation of a universal principle of well-being. Thus, this ethical framework not only accommodates borderline cases—it regards them as paradigmatic tests of its legitimacy, for they reveal whether a moral system truly prioritizes life, subjective experience, and the expansion of reward.

What is essential to grasp here is that what must be protected and promoted—by individuals, societies, and states alike—are not merely momentary states of well-being, but rather the structural possibility of accessing higher states of reward. It is crucial to underscore the term possibility. Just as we cannot impose genuine self-esteem or happiness on a person—since both require freedom, self-direction, and internal coherence in order to arise—we also cannot guarantee that every subject will reach such states. What we can, and indeed must, do is create and preserve the contexts that make them possible: contexts of autonomy, respect, capacity development, and secure affective bonds.

When this logic is applied to borderline cases—particularly those involving young children or animals—it becomes vital to distinguish between their immediate reward and their potential for long-term reward. In the case of children, the ethical priority lies in ensuring the conditions that will maximize, in the future, their possibility of attaining the highest states of reward available to a human being: self-esteem, profound happiness, and life fulfillment. This entails not merely avoiding suffering but actively fostering, insofar as possible, their cognitive, affective, and social development—since these processes are what make a meaningful life possible within the framework of this ethics.

In the case of animals, access to rewarding states must likewise be ensured—through, for instance, affective bonds, freedom of movement, and the avoidance of pain—but we must also recognize, as previously noted, that their potential ceiling for reward is limited by their cognitive and symbolic capacities. While they can experience pleasure, tranquility, and secure attachments, they cannot articulate abstract goals, complex values, or sustain a life narrative over time. Therefore, from this perspective, the crucial difference between the ethical treatment of animals and that of children lies in future potentiality: in the former, the ethical task is to protect present rewarding experience; in the latter, it is to construct the conditions for the maximal future expansion of reward possible in the human being.

Now, let us imagine two people dying of thirst in a desert, with only one bottle of water remaining. Both know that without it, one of them will die. Who should drink it? Should it be shared, even if doing so condemns them both to death? Is it justified to fight for it?

This extreme case starkly reveals the core of the ethical dilemma: when resources are limited and the vital ends of two subjects come into direct conflict, can there be a just solution? An ethics grounded in higher states of reward does not respond with fixed rules but through contextual evaluation: which course of action offers the possibility of attaining higher states of reward over time?

One might argue that if one of the subjects has greater potential to reach and sustain such states—due to age, health, experience, relationships, or future projects—then drinking the water may be ethically justified, provided it does not involve the deliberate destruction of the other, but rather a form of survival that maximizes vital potential.

However, this ethics does not thereby authorize violence unconditionally. The conflict must be managed within a framework that preserves the possibility of higher states of reward—not only immediate but also future—and that avoids reproducing a logic of domination. If both subjects are capable of dialogue, cooperation, or even voluntarily deferring the decision, those avenues should be prioritized.

Limit cases—extreme scarcity, life-or-death dilemmas—test the elasticity of this criterion: in such situations, the operative rule must be to choose the alternative that maximizes the expected Integrated Index of Reward (IIR) over the possible temporal horizon, even when the action entails intense moral costs. This heuristic avoids both shortsighted utilitarianism and ineffective formalism, since it integrates duration, coherence, and autonomy into the evaluation—and maintains the possibility of repairing harm and restoring values when a survival action causes detriment to others.

This example also shows that extreme situations often do not admit ideal solutions, but tragic decisions. In these cases, the proposed ethical framework does not automatically resolve the dilemma but allows decisions to be made with greater awareness of their subjective and existential consequences.

Furthermore, as seen in the dilemma of the father who must choose between saving his child or the young man seeking to protect his grandmother, if the water were in the possession of one of them, it would be incorrect to claim that the person has a moral duty to sacrifice their own life and future possibilities for the life or need of another. Choosing not to share the water in order to preserve one’s own life cannot be judged immoral under an abstract principle—even if the other person is younger or has potentially more years ahead. Once again, “moral arithmetic” cannot be applied. Yet, that person may still decide to give the water away as an act that reaffirms their values—because they would not wish to live knowing they allowed a young person or even a child to die. This free, uncoerced evaluation and decision—to act in accordance with one’s own criterion—is precisely what must be valued under the principle of higher states of reward.

Finally, one of the oldest and most controversial ethical dilemmas is whether the end justifies the means. An extreme example might be that of a terrorist about to detonate a bomb that would kill thousands of people. The only way to prevent it is to kill him. Is it right to do so?

Within this ethical framework, the issue is not to affirm or deny the principle categorically, but to evaluate whether the chosen means contradict the ultimate end one seeks to preserve. If the end is to safeguard life, freedom, or higher states of reward, does the action taken as a means destroy them or make them possible? In this case, if killing one person saves many, and no other alternative exists, and if that action does not subsequently lead to a degeneration of the ethical system into repressive forms, it may be justified as an act of defense.

However, if the means ultimately destroy the very horizon of reward—for instance, by establishing a future regime of total surveillance or systematic punishment—then they cease to be ethical. The ethics of higher states of reward does not permit an end to justify the means, because the means to any end must themselves be encompassed within and aligned with the possibility of higher states of reward. Thus, ends and means are inseparable. The criterion here is not utilitarian but structural: an ethical action is one that keeps open the field of freedom and the possibility of higher states of reward for the individual as such, while those who violate this—by initiating conflict or harming innocents—must be prevented from acting.

These limit cases reveal that no ethics can function as a closed axiomatic system immune to the complexities of the world. The ethics grounded in higher states of reward does not present itself as a dogma, but as a prudent and lucid navigation among variables, where the center of gravity is always the subjective experience of sustained well-being, self-esteem, profound happiness, authentic freedom, and self-realization.

As Jonathan Glover (2014) reminds us, a mature ethics must be capable of “looking into the abyss” without collapsing: it must be able to confront extreme cases—such as the terrorist dilemma or the bottle-in-the-desert scenario—without abandoning its fundamental principles. The strength of an ethical system is not measured by its rigidity, but by its capacity to guide us even when all available options seem tragic. The reward-based approach, insofar as it integrates subjectivity, context, and the horizon of life, offers a compass where other systems collapse into formalism or nihilism.

This is not about justifying any action by its consequences, nor about absolutizing rules devoid of context. It is about establishing an ultimate criterion—profound and enduring reward—that allows ethical orientation even amid chaos. In this sense, limit cases are not anomalies of the system but opportunities to think more radically about the kind of world we wish to inhabit and the kinds of lives we wish to make possible.

Finally, there are objections that must be explicitly addressed: the interpersonal comparison of rewards and the danger of paternalism. These critiques find their response in the framework’s emphasis on autonomy and in the necessity of calibrating the Integrated Index of Reward (IIR) through parameters that incorporate fairness before the law and equality of opportunity—that is, the capacity to cultivate potential—not merely absolute levels of experience. The proposal does not seek to homogenize the highest existential possibilities, but to offer a verifiable normative criterion that preserves each subject’s freedom to determine and cultivate their own path toward them.

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