In response to Lawrence Solum's advocacy of a ‘virtue–centred theory of judging’, I argue that there is indeed important work to be done in identifying and characterising those qualities of character that constitute judicial virtues – those qualities that a person needs if she is to judge well (though I criticise Solum's account of one of the five pairs of judicial vices and virtues that he identifies – avarice and temperance). However, Solum's more ambitious claims – that a judge's vice (...) necessarily corrupts her decisions, and that in at least some contexts we must define a legally correct decision as one that would be reached by a virtuous judge – should be rejected: we can undermine the former by attending to the requirements of due process, and the latter by attending to the ways in which a judge would try to justify her decision. (shrink)

Taking as its starting point Miri Gur-Arye’s critical discussion of a legal duty to report crime, this paper sketches an idealising conception of a democratic republic whose citizens could be expected to recognise a civic responsibility to report crime, in order to assist the enterprise of a criminal law that is their common law. After explaining why they should recognise such a responsibility, what its scope should be, and how it should be exercised, and noting that that civic responsibility must (...) include a responsibility to report one’s own crimes; it discusses whether that civic responsibility could ground at least a limited legal duty to report certain types of crime. It then turns to the question of whether a civic responsibility to assist the criminal law’s enterprise of bringing wrongdoers to account could include a responsibility to arrest suspected or known offenders if the police cannot or will not do so—a responsibility to make a citizen’s arrest, and the legal power to discharge that responsibility: how far should citizens feel entitled, or duty-bound, thus to ‘take the law into their own hands’? (shrink)

A signal challenge of twenty-first century psychiatry is the effective treatment of existential/spiritual suffering in palliative care. This chapter will concentrate on research to assess the therapeutic potential of psilocybin to assuage that suffering. If a “psychedelic experience” can facilitate an acceptance of impending death, and reduce the existential suffering of those who endure it, it could prove to be a valuable intervention where one is sorely needed. The therapeutic use of psilocybin with dying patients (hereinafter patients) raises numerous questions (...) about research trial design, the model of psychiatry that might accommodate it, and the kind of experience it induces. Are these the sorts of experience that psychiatric treatment should effect on troubled patients? Is spiritual care within the ambit of psychiatry? There are epistemological questions as to the veridicality of the psychedelic experience. How much credence should we give it? I will argue in cautious support of ongoing research to evaluate the therapeutic use of psilocybin in palliative care. This argument can be extended to research on its therapeutic use in psychotherapy. The chapter will focus on four questions: (1) what is the ethical justification for this research on patients? (2) What types of research trial design are best used to assess the purported benefits of a psychedelic drug experience? (3) What is the epistemic warrant of the “mystical” and “noetic” facets of this experience? (4) What models of (a) psychiatry and (b) drug action could accommodate the therapeutic use of psilocybin in palliative care? (shrink)

How can a system of criminal punishment be justified? In particular can it be justified if the moral demand that we respect each other as autonomous moral agents is taken seriously? Traditional attempts to justify punishment as a deterrent or as retribution fail, but Duff suggests that punishment can be understood as a communicative attempt to bring a wrong-doer to repent her crime. This account is supported by discussions of moral blame, of penance, of the nature of the law's (...) demands, and of the proper meaning and purpose of the criminal process of trial and verdict: it deals both with the ideals that should inform a system of criminal law and the extent to which those ideals are actualised in existing institutions and practices. The conclusion is pessimistic: punishment cannot be justified within our legal system; and this gap between the ideal and the actual presents us with serious moral dilemmas. (shrink)

Marcia Baron has offered an illuminating and fruitful discussion of extra-legal excuses. What is particularly useful, and particularly important, is her focus on our excusatory practices—on the ways and contexts in which we make, offer, accept, bestow and reject excuses: if we are to reach an adequate understanding of excuses, their implications and their grounds, we must attend to the roles that they can play in our human activities and relationships—and to the complexities and particularities of those roles. However, I (...) want to focus my comments less on the details of Baron’s discussions of excuses in extra-legal contexts than on the implications of her discussion for our understanding of excuses in the criminal law. What light (if any, a sceptic might add) can such analyses of our extra-legal concepts and practices throw on legal concepts and doctrines? (shrink)

Kamm's approach to patient selection qualifies the notion that fairness makes need for scarce, transplantable organs inversely proportional to age. She defines need as how much adequate conscious life a person will have had before death. Length of adequate conscious life correlates highly with age. If so, then younger persons are usually needier than older ones. Since Kamm allows for past periods of non‐adequate conscious life, I argue that this correlation may be neither as close, nor as easy to apply, (...) as she wants it to be. Fairness should require assessment of experiential content in determining how long one's life has been adequately conscious. I argue that such assessments involve some of the goods of experience and quality of life judgements that Kamm thinks a reliance on adequate conscious life will avoid. (shrink)

How can a system of criminal punishment be justified? In particular can it be justified if the moral demand that we respect each other as autonomous moral agents is taken seriously? Traditional attempts to justify punishment as a deterrent or as retribution fail, but Duff suggests that punishment can be understood as a communicative attempt to bring a wrong-doer to repent her crime. This account is supported by discussions of moral blame, of penance, of the nature of the law's (...) demands, and of the proper meaning and purpose of the criminal process of trial and verdict: it deals both with the ideals that should inform a system of criminal law and the extent to which those ideals are actualised in existing institutions and practices. The conclusion is pessimistic: punishment cannot be justified within our legal system; and this gap between the ideal and the actual presents us with serious moral dilemmas. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Commentary on “Psychopathy, Other-Regarding Moral Beliefs, and Responsibility”R. A. Duff (bio)AbstractI make four criticisms of Fields’s account of one type of psychopathy as a responsibility-negating personality disorder which involves an incapacity to form other-regarding moral beliefs. First, his account of what it is to hold moral beliefs (in terms of accepting universal practical principles) actually specifies neither a necessary, nor a sufficient, condition for holding a moral belief. (...) Second, he is too quick to dismiss the suggestion that what psychopaths suffer from is an inability to understand moral concepts and values. Third, he does not show why we should ascribe an incapacity to accept moral beliefs to the psychopath, rather than a culpable failure to do so. Fourth, he suggests too weak a criterion of criminal liability, as requiring only the capacity to act for prudential reasons.KeywordsMoral beliefs, moral understanding, incapacity, criminal liabilityFields argues that we can properly count at least one type of psychopathy as a personality disorder which negates moral responsibility. This is not because, as others have argued, such psychopaths cannot understand moral concepts and moral values, but because they suffer an incapacity to form other-regarding moral beliefs, i. e., to accept practical moral principles; we cannot hold them morally responsible for failing to accept or obey moral principles which they lack the capacity to accept. Nor, he also argues, should we hold them criminally liable, since they lack that capacity to act for prudential reasons to which a deterrent system of law appeals.His paper rightly emphasizes the interdependence of psychiatry and philosophy, in this as in other contexts. A psychiatric account of psychopathy as a disorder involving some kind of moral incapacity must depend for its precise sense on an adequate account of the concepts of moral capacity and incapacity: an account which should draw on the resources of moral philosophy. Philosophers who aim to understand those concepts will do well to attend, as Fields does attend, to psychiatric discussions and case histories: not only because this is necessary if their comments on mental disorder or on psychopathy are to be adequately informed, but also because careful attention to the problematic phenomena of mental disorder can also illuminate our understanding of the rational powers and capacities which are lacking or distorted in the disordered, and which philosophers hope to analyze. Fields is also clearly right to emphasize that the criteria of moral responsibility might not be the same as the appropriate [End Page 283] criteria of criminal liability: that the question of whether psychopaths should be criminally liable cannot necessarily be answered simply by determining whether they are morally responsible.However, I do not think that he has provided an adequate account of psychopathy as a personality disorder which negates moral responsibility and criminal liability. I will comment on four aspects of his discussion.First, as Fields recognizes, one who wants to argue that psychopaths lack the capacity to form moral beliefs owes us an account of what it is to form, or hold, a moral belief. Fields’s account is familiar, but arguable. To hold a moral belief is to accept, and to be motivated by, a universal practical principle: a principle which one regards as providing very strong reasons for action, and breaches of which arouse such responses as (third-person) disapproval or (first-person) guilt. It could be plausibly objected, however, that accepting some universal practical principle is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for holding a moral belief.It is not a sufficient condition, partly because not any universal practical principle which an agent treats as being important can intelligibly count as a moral principle. The principle “One should never split an infinitive” cannot, by itself, count as a moral principle; and if someone treated it as if it were a moral principle, we would judge his moral understanding, and his rational capacities, to be seriously impaired. This suggests that a purely formal account of the “moral,” like Fields’s (an account that pays no attention to the content of what could count as a moral principle) cannot be adequate (see Foot 1978). A further, related reason for the... (shrink)

The article offers an Aristotelian analysis of emotion-based defences in criminal law: someone who commits an offence is entitled to an excuse if she was motivated by a justifiably aroused and strongly felt emotion that gave her good reason to commit the offence and that might have destabilised the practical rationality even of a ‘reasonable’ person. This analysis captures the logical structure of duress and provocation as excuses—and also shows why provocation is controversial as even a partial defence. This pattern (...) of analysis is then applied to compassion as a motivation for assisting another’s death, in the light of some recent developments in English criminal law’s treatment of assisting suicide: even if we accept that such assistance cannot be justified, we can see how compassion can ground an excuse, and make sense of the Director of Public Prosecution’s recently published Policy for dealing with cases of assistin.. (shrink)

First paragraph: Dangerous driving attracts a maximum penalty of a heavy fine, or in the most serious cases up to six months’ imprisonment; but if it causes death, the maximum penalty is fourteen years’ imprisonment. Careless driving attracts a maximum penalty of a level 4 fine; driving whilst under the influence of drink or drugs attracts a maximum penalty of a level 5 fine and/or up to six months’ imprisonment: but if someone causes death by careless driving when under the (...) influence of drink or drugs, the maximum penalty is again fourteen years’ imprisonment, and for causing death by careless driving it is five years’ imprisonment. Driving when unlicensed, uninsured or disqualified attracts maximum penalties of, respectively, a level 3 fine, a level 5 fine, and a level 5 fine and/ or six months’ imprisonment; but an unlicensed, uninsured or disqualified driver who causes death faces a maximum penalty of two years’ imprisonment.2 The difference between causing and not causing death in such cases might be purely a matter of luck; we therefore face the familiar question of whether and how it can be consistent with the demands of penal justice to allow ‘outcome luck’ to make such a dramatic difference to an offender’s criminal liability. (shrink)

After distinguishing different species of Legal Moralism I outline and defend a modest, positive Legal Moralism, according to which we have good reason to criminalize some type of conduct if it constitutes a public wrong. Some of the central elements of the argument will be: the need to remember that the criminal law is a political, not a moral practice, and therefore that in asking what kinds of conduct we have good reason to criminalize, we must begin not with the (...) entire realm of wrongdoing, but with conduct falling within the public realm of our civic life; the need to look at the different processes of criminalization, and to ask what kinds of consideration can properly figure in those processes; the need to attend to the relationship, and the essential differences, between criminal law and other modes of legal regulation. (shrink)

The interpretation of character motivations is a crucial part of the understanding of many narratives, including those found in video games. This interpretation can be complicated in video games by the player performing the role of a player-character within the game narrative. Such performance finds the player making choices for the character and also interpreting the resulting character actions and their effect on the game's narrative. This can lead to interpretative difficulties for game narratives and their players: if a decision (...) to act is made by the player, is it that the player's own imaginative reasons for acting warrant some narrative interpretations and exclude others? To answer this I argue that we need to investigate the interactive ontology of video game narratives, the notion of game playing as interpretative performance, and the player-character, an artifact through which performance is focused in narrative games. Doing so shows there to be at least two problems with the notion of the correct interpretation of narrative games. Neither of these problems entirely negates the normativity of game narratives, however, and so players are left with the problem of how they might decide which of the possible playings are warranted. I end by making some practical suggestions for the thoughtful and narratively interested game player. (shrink)

A little girl reflects on the difficulty of explaining God, even for grownups, but concludes that maybe it does not matter if she can not put the nature of God into words.

Grunbaum claims that the remedial failure of atreatment's characteristic factors is thegeneric, objective property of a placebo. Hestipulates that a treatment is placebic if thisremedial failure exacerbates the targetdisorder. This stipulation can subsume asplacebic effects that might be solelypharmacological, e.g., paradoxical reactions tocertain psychiatric drugs. If that exacerbationcan be explained pharmacologically, then wemight question whether Grunbaum's definitionalscheme captures the core identity of what weusually intend by the placebo concept. Ipropose that this core identity is bestcaptured by a symbolic meaning hypothesis (...) inwhich psychological factors exert thedeterminative influence. (shrink)

This article discusses the nature of persuasive authorities in the common law, and argues that many of them are best understood in terms of their (being regarded) as having theoretical rather than practical authorities for the courts that cite them. The contrast between theoretical and practical authority is examined at length in order to support the view that the treatment of many persuasive authorities by courts is more consistent with this view. Finally, it is argued that if persuasive authorities are (...) best understood as theoretical authorities, this raises difficulties for both positivistic and interpretivist theories of law. (shrink)

This essay explores the extent to which comparative philosophy can assist decolonial struggle. In order to accomplish this task, I offer not only a description of philosophy's colonization but also an account of how this discipline remains subject to the coloniality of knowledge. In short, insofar as race, gender, class, and sexuality are considered irrelevant or accidental to the production of philosophical knowledge, professional philosophy replicates, if not continues, what Rajeev Bhargava terms the epistemic injustice of colonialism. One response to (...) the colonization of philosophy is “diversification” by means of putting into conversation philosophers, systems, and ideas from differing cultures or regions throughout the world. While a step forward, insofar as philosophical comparisons occur primarily on an East–West axis, philosophers are not necessarily addressing the biases, prejudices, racism, and exceptionalism endemic to their discipline. In fact, such a directionality typically reinforces the sense of historical development that undergirds Western philosophy's self‐understanding. This essay, therefore, offers a series of recommendations for how to radicalize comparative philosophical efforts so as to address global epistemic injustice and aid in the process of decolonization. (shrink)

Reciprocal altruism was originally formulated in terms of individual selection and most theorists continue to view it in this way. However, this interpretation of reciprocal altruism has been challenged by Sober and Wilson (1998). They argue that reciprocal altruism (as well as all other forms of altruism) evolves by the process of group selection. In this paper, we argue that the original interpretation of reciprocal altruism is the correct one. We accomplish this by arguing that if fitness attaches to (at (...) minimum) entire life cycles, then the kind of fitness exchanges needed to form the group-level in such situations is not available. Reciprocal altruism is thus a result of individual selection and when it evolves, it does so because it is individually advantageous. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Bioshock and the Art of RaptureGrant TavinorI am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? "No!" says the man in Washington, "It belongs to the poor." "No!" says the man in the Vatican, "It belongs to God." "No!" says the man in Moscow, "It belongs to everyone." I rejected these answers; instead, I chose (...) something different. I chose the impossible. I chose Rapture! A city where the artist would not fear the censor; where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.Andrew Ryan, opening BioshockIBioshock is the Masterpiece of recent gaming. Genre-wise the game is a first person-shooter survival-horror game—already a complicated mix of gaming forms—and Bioshock is excellent in these gaming terms: playing the game is a consistently engaging, challenging, and tense experience. The narrative of the game, set in Rapture, a dystopian city beneath the sea, fits perfectly with this interactive gaming form. The premise of Bioshock is a parody of Ayn Rand's objectivist novel Atlas Shrugged. Led by the magnate Andrew Ryan, the industrialists, artists, and scientists have retreated from the world and built Rapture through sheer force of will. But when the player enters the city at the beginning of the game, it is evident that nature is pushing back, and that the sea is slowly but surely retaking Rapture, while its citizens have become corrupted by the arts and sciences the city was built upon: as genetically manipulated "splicers" they now creep through Rapture's darkened halls bemoaning their lost humanity. Andrew Ryan "chose the impossible," [End Page 91] and inevitably his hubris is being repaid by the recalcitrance of human nature and the impermanence of human achievement. Much of the immense fun of Bioshock derives from the irony of an objectivist utopia running amok.The immediate visual impact of Bioshock, depending on its employment of cutting-edge high definition 3D computer graphics, is striking. The aesthetic qualities of the water, in particular, have drawn wide praise. The world of Rapture is also presented through an engaging and excellent style. To depict this decaying world, Bioshock draws on the architectural motifs and cultural themes of 1930s and 1940s America. Portrayals of decaying art deco facades, faded Hollywood socialites, and echoes of Hearst, Hughes, and Citizen Kane, are combined with period music and philosophical and literary references to produce a coherent artistic statement.Two features of Bioshock bear out its unique artfulness as a game. First is the role in the game-world of the Little Sisters: cute little girls that pose a game obstacle with which the player must decide how to deal. In Bioshock, the task of harvesting the game-world resources needed to survive is given a moral dimension in that the resources can be extracted only from the Little Sisters by killing them, and so a key part of the gameplay rests on an emotionally provocative moral choice. The second artful aspect of the game that warrants special attention is a narrative twist partway through the game where it becomes evident that player's principle sympathetic source of information in the game-world is a dissemblance. Bioshock has an interactive twist on an untrustworthy narrator, which clouds and complicates the decisions the player has made in Rapture. Rather than an actor, the player-character is a pawn in someone else's game. At the forefront of both of these aspects of Bioshock are considerations of freewill and morality.To really appreciate the art of Bioshock we need to understand its nature as a game, and moreover, to treat the gaming nature seriously and with sympathy. Bioshock is a videogame, and it is also clearly art; but it is not as if the game is art despite its being a videogame and that the art is a mere gloss or veneer. Rather, Bioshock's nature as a game allows it to be art of a distinctive kind. Treating videogames as a kind... (shrink)

N. Scott Arnold has argued forcefully that, for the most part, those who win profits (and suffer losses) in a market economy deserve them. According to Arnold, profit opportunities arise when there are malallocations of resources, which entrepreneurs initiate changes in production to correct. If they succeed, they simultaneously further the essential point of the market system — to meet the needs and wants of consumers — and they make profits; if they do not, then they stand to suffer losses. (...) I argue that the structure of modern corporate enterprises tends to channel income into the hands of those whose entrepreneurial contribution is diminishingly small — namely stockholders — and away from those within the firm who genuinely participate in the entrepreneurial role. (shrink)

The traditional doctrine of God's universal causality holds that God directly causes all entities distinct from himself, including all creaturely actions. But can our actions be free in the strong, libertarian sense if they are directly caused by God? W. Matthews Grant argues that free creaturely acts have dual sources, God and the free creaturely agent, and are ultimately up to both in a way that leaves all the standard conditions for libertarian freedom satisfied. Offering a comprehensive alternative to (...) existing approaches for combining theism and libertarian freedom, he proposes new solutions for reconciling libertarian freedom with robust accounts of God's providence, grace, and predestination. He also addresses the problem of moral evil without the commonly employed Free Will Defense. Written for analytic philosophers and theologians, Grant's approach can be characterized as “neo-scholastic” as well as “analytic,” since many of the positions defended are inspired by, consonant with, and develop resources drawn from the scholastic tradition, especially Aquinas. (shrink)

This collection of original essays, by some of the best known contemporary criminal law theorists, tackles a range of issues about the criminal law's 'special part' - the part of the criminal law that defines specific offences. One of its aims is to show the importance, for theory as well as for practice, of focusing on the special part as well as on the general part which usually receives much more theoretical attention. Some of the issues covered concern the proper (...) scope of the criminal law, for example how far should it include offences of possession, or endangerment? If it should punish only wrongful conduct, how can it justly include so-called 'mala prohibita', which are often said to involve conduct that is not wrongful prior to its legal prohibition? Other issues concern the ways in which crimes should be classified. Can we make plausible sense, for instance, of the orthodox distinction between crimes of basic and general intent? Should domestic violence be defined as a distinct offence, distinguished from other kinds of personal violence? Also examined are the ways in which specific offences should be defined, to what extent those definitions should identify distinctive types of wrongs, and the light that such definitional questions throw on the grounds and structures of criminal liability. Such issues are discussed in relation not only to such crimes as murder, rape, theft and other property offences, but also in relation to offences such as bribery, endangerment and possession that have not traditionally been subjects for in depth theoretical analysis. (shrink)

Are all God’s activities identical to God? If not, which are identical to God and which not? Although it is seldom noticed, the texts of Aquinas (at least on the surface) suggest conflicting answers to these questions, giving rise to a diversity of opinion among interpreters of Aquinas. In this paper, we draw attention to this conflict and offer what we believe to be the strongest textual and speculative support for and against each of the main answers to these questions.

This chapter contains sections titled: Coercion Law References.

Locke reports, in his discussion of substance and with some amusement, on the Indian philosopher who, when asked what the earth rests on, postulated an elephant and then, when asked in turn about the elephant, decided to go with a tortoise. Locke's amusement, of course, is justified. But it is also tempered if not downright equivocal. For he sees that at some point a very special elephant or—if we stick to the Indian's story—a very special tortoise will have to be (...) invoked. Locke's own tortoise, or elephant, substratum or substance, has some very peculiar properties or, alternatively, an equally alarming lack of them—so much so that, as he is painfully aware, it might well seem totally implausible. Enough of Locke though. Wittgenstein's problem, unlike Locke's, lies in epistemology. His elephant consists of an indefinitely large and varied set of bench-marks or paradigms—Moore's examples, in fact, along with some additions—that function as an epistemological ‘foundation’, ‘river bed’, ‘bedrock’, ‘rock bottom’, a ‘substratum’, no less. Where is the tortoise? Wittgenstein's answer to this is that there is no tortoise, none at all. A non-existent tortoise, however, is as unacceptable here as a regular common-or-garden one. Even the Indian realized that an elephant is no good without a tortoise. (shrink)

If Grant had not already been thinking the matter through for some time, he could not have prepared Philosophy in the Mass Age so quickly.

Discussions of responsibility typically focus on the person who is held responsible: what are the conditions or criteria of responsibility; what can be done to or demanded of a person who is responsible? This paper shifts focus onto those who hold, rather than those who are held, responsible: what do we owe to those whom we hold responsible? After distinguishing responsibility as answerability from responsibility as liability, it attends mainly to the former, and points out the ways in which it (...) is multiply relational: I am responsible for something to someone who has the standing to call me to account for it, under the norms of some particular practice. Responsibility as thus understood is also reciprocal: if you are to be answerable to me, I must treat you with a certain respect, attend seriously to your answer, and be ready to answer to you myself. The paper explores some of the implications of this point both for our moral dealings with each other, and for criminal law and the criminal trial. (shrink)

There is considerable confusion regarding the ethical appropriateness of using incentives in research with human subjects. Previous work on determining whether incentives are unethical considers them as a form of undue influence or coercive offer. We understand the ethical issue of undue influence as an issue, not of coercion, but of corruption of judgment. By doing so we find that, for the most part, the use of incentives to recruit and retain research subjects is innocuous. But there are some instances (...) where it is not. Specifically, incentives become problematic when conjoined with the following factors, singly or in combination with one another: where the subject is in a dependency relationship with the researcher, where the risks are particularly high, where the research is degrading, where the participant will only consent if the incentive is relatively large because the participant's aversion to the study is strong, and where the aversion is a principled one. The factors we have identified and the kinds of judgments they require differ substantially from those considered crucial in most previous discussions of the ethics of employing incentives in research with human subjects. (shrink)

This chapter argues that the kind of responsibility that we must have, if the enterprise of criminal law and punishment is to be consistent with the demands of justice, is something much more modest, much less metaphysically ambitious, than the ‘ultimate’ responsibility that Strawson so persuasively denies in Chapter 8. If we are to be clear about the kind of responsibility that is relevant to criminal law, we must first be clear about the criminal law itself — about the kind (...) of enterprise that it is, about the aims that it should serve, about the principles that should structure it, and about the conditions it demands of us. (shrink)

picture and image of the universe? How much can he mirror of the illimitable cosmos, material and spiritual, knowable or unknowable? How much can he realize the abstruse relation between its two antithetical but complementary sides? That is how to judge in any deeper and wider sense of a brain and its capacity. I was talking once in a London drawing-room with Cotter Morison and a famous and able literary hostess. I happened to say, as I say now, that Spencer (...) seemed to me by far the greatest mind I had ever met with. “What?” cried the lady surprised; “would you put him above George Eliot?” To me, I confess, the question seemed almost ludicrous. Imaginative work is beautiful and attractive, just as artistic work is; but to suppose it can be put on a par, so far as the measure of intellect is concerned, with scientific or philosophic work seems to me to betoken a certain lack of just standards of capacity. “Vanity Fair” is great in its way; and its way is just as incommensurate with the greatness of the “Principia” or of the “Principles of Biology” as is the greatness of the Transfiguration or the Venus of Milos. But if we want to measure minds, as minds, one against another, I say fearlessly that scientific and philosophic grasp is the one true standard of the highest attainment, and that no man who ever yet trod our planet gave proof of such mastery in both these lines as Herbert Spencer. (shrink)

Abstract The language of consciousness and that of brain function seem vastly different and incommensurable ways of approaching human mental life. If we look at what we mean by consciousness we find that it has a great deal to do with the sensitivity and responsiveness shown by a subject toward things that happen. Philosophically, we can understnd ascriptions of consciousness best by looking at the conditions which make it true for thinkers who share the concept to say that one of (...) them is conscious. This depends on consciousness being manifest. When we also note that manifest, flexible and exploratory responses to one's environment are the basis of concept use, an a priori link between concepts and consciousness is forged. The brain structures subserving such responses are complex but crucially involve the multi?tracked and cross?linked information processing to be found in the neocortex. This function draws on the motivational and orienting activity arising in lower brain systems but orchestrates that into an articulated structure of behaviour control. The conclusion is that human consciousness is an umbrella term for complex and animated mental activity which makes extensive use of many different perceptual systems and also of the social milieu within which human cognition develops. (shrink)

The commentaries have both drawn out the implications of, and challenged, our definition and operationalization of innovation. In this response, we reply to these concerns, discuss the differences between our operationalization and the preexisting operationalization if innovation, and make suggestions for the advancement of the challenging and exciting field of animal innovation.

The compelling, widely-accepted Satisfaction-is-Truth Principle says that if S wants p, then S has a desire that's satisfied in exactly the worlds where p is true. We reject the Principle; an agent may want p without having a desire that's satisfied when p obtains in any old way. Other theorists who reject the Principle rely on contested intuitions about when agents get what they want. We instead appeal to—and shed new light on—the dispositional role of desire.

This article argues the following points. The Hobbesian hypothesis, which we define as the claim that all people are better off under state authority than they would be outside of it, is an empirical claim about all stateless societies. It is an essential premise in most contractarian justifications of government sovereignty. Many small-scale societies are stateless. Anthropological evidence from them provides sufficient reason to doubt the truth of the hypothesis, if not to reject it entirely. Therefore, contractarian theory has not (...) done what it claims to do: it has not justified state sovereignty to each person subject to it by demonstrating that they benefit from that authority. To be justified in contractarian terms, states have to do something to improve the living standards of disadvantaged people under their rule. (shrink)

Psychopaths are often regarded as a scourge of contemporary society and, as such, are the focus of much public vilification and outrage. But, arguably, psychopaths are both sinned against as well as sinners. If that is true, then their status as the victims of abusive subcultures partially mitigates their moral responsibility for the harms they cause. We argue, from the neuroethics of psychopathy and antisocial personality disorder (ASPD), that communities have a moral obligation to psychopaths as well as a case (...) against them. A reflection on the genesis and developmental epidemiology of psychopathy reveals an individualist, attribution-type error evident in much Western psychological and legal thinking—an error that obscures important moral truths about psychopaths. The resulting analysis makes us reconsider the distinction between disorders and moral failings and the ethical significance of the biological or neurocognitive mechanisms underpinning psychopathy. We claim that casting aside the deficit model (based on the presupposition that psychopaths are intrinsically unlike the rest of us) in favor of a relational and holistic view of personality potentiates a more informed and inclusive set of ethical, forensic, and therapeutic attitudes. (shrink)

According to prevailing opinion, if a creaturely act is caused by God, then it cannot be free in the libertarian sense. I argue to the contrary. I distinguish intrinsic and extrinsic models of divine causal agency. I then show that, given the extrinsic model, there is no reason one holding that our free acts are caused by God could not also hold a libertarian account of human freedom. It follows that a libertarian account of human freedom is consistent with God’s (...) being the source and cause of all being apart from himself, including the being of free human actions. (shrink)

The idea that crimes can usefully be understood as ‘public wrongs’, and that this can generate a plausible principle of criminalisation, has found some support in recent years; it has also been subjected to some sharp criticism. This paper aims to sketch the most plausible version of that idea, and to show how, once properly explained, it is not vulnerable to those criticisms. After a brief defence of the negative principle, that we may not criminalise conduct that does not constitute (...) a public wrong, it explains the positive principle, that we have reason to criminalise conduct if it constitutes a public wrong, by drawing an analogy between criminal law and codes of professional ethics, and by appealing to the idea of civil order, as the normative structure of a polity—a structure that criminal law helps both to constitute and to sustain. Four objections are then met: that this account implies an unacceptable relativism; that it distorts the reasons that bear on criminalisation; that it cannot make room for those who do not identify themselves with the polity in which they live; and that it implies an unrealistically demanding conception of what is required for a polity to exist. (shrink)