This article examines Montesquieu's concept of natural law and treatment of legal customs in conjunction with his theory of moral psychology. It explores his effort to entwine the rational procedural quality of laws with the substantive principles that sustain them. Montesquieu grounds natural law in the desires of the human being as ‘a feeling creature’, thus establishing the normative force of desire and making right action attractive by engaging the passions rather than subordinating them to reason. (...) As a result, natural law generates both political norms and the motivations that drive political actions. It provides a standard for assessing the ostensibly jumbled multiplicity of legal customs in human societies. And it reminds us that there is more to political theory than the rational justifi-cation of norms, that central to any account of liberal constitutionalism must be an effort to show the attractions – and not only the justice or the rationality – of right action. Key Words: law • Montesquieu • moral psychology • motivation • natural • law • norm justification • passions. (shrink)

ABSTRACT This article focuses on how Buddhist ethics contains ideas and principles that would urge those in a combat situation to minimise the harm they do to others, within the requirements of their military goal. This international humanitarian law principle is in line with both compassion for others and a concern to limit the bad karmic results to the combatant of their intentional killing and maiming. The motive for an act of killing can worsen or lessen its karmic results, and (...) non-combat actions such as helping the wounded can generate good karmic results which can dilute, though not cancel, the bad karma of killing. Harm to both humans and non-humans is to be avoided wherever possible, but killing a human is worse than killing an animal. The Mahāvaṃsa passage on combatants killed by King Duṭṭhagāmaṇi’s army as mostly being less than human, such that killing them produced little or no bad karma, is a totally implausible statement to put in the mouths of monks whom the text says were Arahats, spiritually enlightened ones. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Introduction Hobbes' Target Human Action Animal Action Hobbes' Theory of Action and Freedom References: primary sources Further reading: secondary sources.

It is a challenge to write a book on a topic that has received extensive treatment in philosophical discourse—especially when said treatment has been varied in purpose, angle, and aim. Hume’s work on the relationship between passion and action is one such topic. Scholarship on this theme has ranged from historically situated interpretive work, to theoretical work that assumes a Kantian foil, to the robust discourse of contemporary Humean views. In her book, Hume, Passion, and Action, Elizabeth Radcliffe (...) has taken on the complex task of writing on motivation in Hume with many of these perspectives in her sights, and it has resulted in a book... (shrink)

Elizabeth Radcliffe's book is an important and original contribution to scholarship on Hume's ethics and moral psychology. Throughout, she deftly combines important discussions of Hume's predecessors and contemporaries that serve to contextualize his views with in-depth analysis of Hume's texts. At the same time, she shows an impressive familiarity with more recent scholarship on Hume's and Humean ethics, and deploys much of this recent scholarship to frame her own interpretation of Hume's ethics and moral psychology. That sophisticated and nuanced interpretation (...) focuses particularly on the relations between and the respective roles played by belief, the passions, and moral sentiments in motivation and agency.The... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Passion and Action: The Emotions in Seventeenth-Century Philosophy by Susan JamesRichard A. WatsonSusan James. Passion and Action: The Emotions in Seventeenth-Century Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Pp. vii + 318. Cloth, $35.00.Susan James shows how during the seventeenth century philosophers moved from the three souls of Aristotle and the tripartite soul of Thomas Aquinas in which passions and reasons compete for the attention (...) of the will, to a Cartesian view of man as a single soul in union with the body who wills under the influence of both passions and reasons, to a Hobbesian view that the soul is the body and that the bodily motions we call reasons and passions are desires; acts of will are merely the deciding desires in deterministic causal sequences of the material motions of the body that constitute desires. This sets up the contemporary view that, motions are caused by desires and beliefs, leaving behind the difficulties of integrating with one another Aristotelian souls, Thomistic faculties, and Cartesian mind and body. James conceives of this evolution as one of unification of mental and bodily powers, and of integration of the active and passive powers of the mind. This concourse also represents a development from theories meant to explain to theories calculated for control and finally to theories facilitating therapy. Aristotle and Thomas adapted their ontologies to perceived differences in powers and faculties, while Descartes and Hobbes worked toward an ideal of unity of science and nature. The Christian Descartes brought together all the substances and powers of nature under a single extended matter divided into parts by the single force of motion, but he excepted the human soul with its power of will to alter the course of nature. The atheist Hobbes simply dispensed with supernatural [End Page 168] mental substance and occult power of will in order to integrate the whole of nature (including sensing and reasoning) under a cause and effect sequence of moving material bodies in which the last desire in a sequence of human bodily motions is designated as an act of will.James intends her book “as a contribution to the reinstatement of the emotions within philosophy, to the… opinion that we need to take account of our emotional life if we are to understand… moral motivation and growth, the springs of action (rational and otherwise), and the nature of reasoning” (22). She agrees that the sharp division between ideas and passions or emotions is properly abolished to be replaced by the view that all ideas have an emotional component, and all passions an ideational component. This fits with the parallel development of the notion that all sensible perceptions are propositional, and the somewhat less widespread notion that all concepts have a sensible component.But did this development result in a view of passions and ideas, learning and knowing, thinking and action, that is more true to nature than Aristotelian ontology? It is very hard to answer this question, and despite her sympathies with the notion that all human thought is both conceptual and emotional, James does not try. The reason we don’t know lies under the surface of the movement from Aristotle to Hobbes (i.e., to Daniel Dennett) like a monster in the deep. The monster is the monotheistic God, the perfection and unity of which underlies the Western drive to a unitary view of nature including man. The possibility that this God could be a deceiver, and so all our sensations and ideas might not represent the real world, set up Cartesianism and modern hypothetico-deductive science. But lurking throughout James’ book is a more palpable dreadnought, a demoness, the woman Eve. The female is responsible for the Fall of Man, and thus the fear and suspicion of women that suffuses patriarchic Christianity, and is expressed openly by such philosophers as Malebranche. Bodily passions and emotions (particularly the concupiscent ones) are nasty, evil, irrational, overpowering; to wit, they are feminine. They are not to be trusted, and must be subdued. So while still driven by ideals of monotheism, Descartes and Hobbes do move beyond the dogmatic Christian association of the emotions with female treachery. Even so... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:More About Hume's Debt to Spinoza Wim Klever In a recent contribution to the question of Hume's relationship to SpinozaIadvocatedamoreorlessSpinozisticinterpretationofthefirst bookofA Treatise ofHumanNature.1 Ofthe Understanding, sowasmy claim, is not only very close to De natura et origine mentis (Ethica, second part) as far as its main affirmations are concerned; the convergence ofexternal and internal evidence makes it also probable that there is a remarkable influence from the one's work (...) on the other and, accordingly, that Hume's defamation of Spinoza's system might well have been disingenuous. This last point was previously also suggested by Richard Popkin in an article in which he compared Hume's philosophy ofreligion with Spinoza's.2 What motivated me to continue my research in this field? To say itinone word: the unintendeddiscoveryofmanystrikingresemblances betweenHume's secondbook, OfthePassions,andSpinoza'sthirdpart, De origine et natura affectuum. I happened to become a member of a group ofinterested people who concentrate on reading Hume, and, on the other hand, I had acquired some expertise as a Spinoza scholar for quite a number of years, so that I could not avoid seeing the commonaUties between the two philosophers. It seems to be fully impossible to explain the resemblances—which I, ofcourse, will show below—by referring to the Spinoza-article in Bayle's Dictionaire historique et critique (a source once mentioned by Hume in a letter to a London friend), since Bayle does not spend a word to the human passions. It is further a hard fact that there do not exist other written sourcesfrom which Humemighthave drawnhisSpinozisticinspiration in his French period apart from the Ethics; all available literature of the time turned around the questions theism versus atheism and free will versus determinism, without entering into the details ofhuman emotions.3 Only one conclusion was possible for me: Hume musthave been familiar with Spinoza's own text. Either the Chevaher Ramsay, whose intimate he was for some time,4 or anotherintermediaryfigure5 must have raised his interest. The best entrance into the material is constituted by Hume's closing remark in his A Dissertation on the Passions (1757), in which he elucidates what he in fact has been doing in hie analysis of the passions: Volume XDI Number 1 55 WIM KLEVER I pretend not to have here exhausted this subject. It is sufficient formy purpose, ifI have made it appear, that, in the production and conduct of the passions, there is a certain regular mechanism, which is susceptible of as accurate a disquisition, as the laws ofmotion, optics, hydrostatics, or any part ofnatural philosophy.6 In spite ofthe words "a certain," this fragment maynot be interpreted as a metaphorical assessment. The origin and the processes ofhuman passions are purely mechanical. If this is not what Hume intends to declare, he never could have added the phrase that passions are susceptible of exactly the same kind of accurate descriptions as other natural phenomena. This theory of the mechanism of the passions is certainly not Cartesian. Although Descartes, as a physical scientist, was a great promoter of the explanation of things by means of mechanical causality, he in fact did not extend this method to the life ofthe passions. In his dualistic philosophy he ascribes to the human mind (with its free will) the capability to interfere with the passions and even to dominate them.7 In this field it is Spinoza who paves the way for Hume by sharply criticizing Descartes' non-mechanistic explanation ofthe passions. His far-fetched solution ofthe mind-body interactivity by means of the pineal gland and the animal spirits pushing against it, is called "a hypothesis more occult than any occult quality." 8 Spinoza acknowledged that Descartes had good intentions in trying to explain the human affections by their direct causes, but he was inconsistent insofar as he at the same time attempted to demonstrate man's absolute dominion over them. He, Spinoza, on the contrary, "will consider human actions and appetites just as ifit were a question ofUnes, planes and bodies." 9 The analysis of passions is a piece of natural science comparable with geometry, optics10 and hydrostatics, to mention some other fields of Spinoza's research. Hume's statement... (shrink)

David Hume’s theory of action is well known for several provocative theses, including that passion and reason cannot be opposed over the direction of action. In Hume, Passion, and Action, the author defends an original interpretation of Hume’s views on passion, reason and motivation that is consistent with other theses in Hume’s philosophy, loyal to his texts, and historically situated. This book challenges the now orthodox interpretation of Hume on motivation, presenting an alternative that situates Hume closer (...) to “Humeans” than many recent interpreters have. Part of the strategy is to examine the thinking of the early modern intellectuals to whom Hume responds. Most of these thinkers insisted that passions lead us to pursue harmful objects unless regulated by reason; and most regarded passions as representations of good and evil, which can be false. Understanding Hume’s response to these claims requires appreciating his respective characterizations of reason and passion. The author argues that Hume’s thesis that reason is practically impotent apart from passion is about beliefs generated by reason, rather than about the capacity of reason. Furthermore, the argument makes sense of Hume’s sometimes-ridiculed description of passions as “original existences” having no reference to objects. The author also shows how Hume understood morality as intrinsically motivating, while holding that moral beliefs are not themselves motives, and why he thought of passions as self-regulating, contrary to the admonitions of the rationalists. (shrink)

1. ‘Reason is and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can pretend to no other office, but to serve and obey them.’ 2.3.3) Unfortunately, Hume uses ‘reason’ to mean ‘discovery of truth or falsehood‘ as well as discovery of logical relations. So suppose we avoid, as Hume I think does not, prejudging the question of how many ingredients are requisite for action, by separating these two claims out: A. Reason is and ought only (...) to be the slave of the passions. B. Reason ) is and ought only to be the slave of the passions. (shrink)

Smithian (supposedly) irregular feelings reveal the internal structure of moral judgements by showing that they consist of two distinct elements. These elements belong to different dynamisms of human nature, are triggered by different causes, and produce different reactions in the agent. In the case of resentment, I call them animal resentment and moral resentment, respectively. Animal resentment closely resembles Hume's account of resentment and follows his theory of the passions. Moral resentment is different, for it is (...) not caused directly by pain, but by the recognition of the evil intention of the aggressor. Finally, plain moral resentment – or resentment caused by an unjust action and approved of by the impartial spectator – blends these elements into a unity articulated by Hume’s theory of the passions. (shrink)

Kant is the philosophical tradition's arch-anti-consequentialist – if anyone insists that intentions alone make an action what it is, it is Kant. This chapter takes up Kant's account of the relation between intention and action, aiming both to lay it out and to understand why it might appeal. The chapter first maps out the motivational architecture that Kant attributes to us. We have wills that are organized to action by two parallel and sometimes competing motivational systems. One (...) determines us by way of motives that are sensuous, natural and given from without, the other by motives that are intellectual, rational, and given from within. Each set of motives belongs to a system of laws – natural motives to the laws of nature, rational motives to the laws of freedom. For Kant, all things, including actions, are what they are in virtue of the laws governing them; actions, qua actions, are always governed by laws that govern individual wills. These laws are Kantian maxims, 'or subjective practical laws.' Maxims, for Kant, thus make actions the actions they are. The chapter then maps out the implications of this motivational architecture for Kant's theory of value. Maxims always advert to or 'contain' both ends and means. Ends are always specifications of one of two ultimate ends. Actions have the moral value they have depending on which of two ultimate ends the maxim adverts to. The possibilities are 'happiness,' or gratification of desires with sensuous origins, and 'duty,' or accord with the moral demand to will in ways that respect free rational agency wherever it is found. Only actions aimed at the latter – actions with rational motives – have moral value. Actions aimed at the former – actions with natural motives – though not immoral in themselves, become so when pursuit works against rational motives. For Kant, actions aimed at happiness are ultimately allied with efforts to sustain our 'animal' existence, and so are governed by terms and conditions given by the natural world. Actions aimed at duty, in contrast, are ultimately allied with efforts to impose a rational form on nature, to make it over, so to speak, according to values not given by nature itself. Actions aimed at duty, therefore, create a specifically moral world, one in which mores and norms, formal and informal arrangements, institutions, policies, and so on, realize, harmonize, and promote free rational agency itself. Finally, the chapter addresses motivations for Kant's view. The architecture of will and the theories of action and value he proposes allow Kant to accommodate a host of intuitions and commitments. His view makes room for metaphysically free agency, and for the lived experience of motivational freedom from ever-changing natural desires. It makes room for conflicts within the will while still holding out hope that resolution is possible. It accommodates views that the best human lives engage 'higher' faculties in sustained ways. It identifies a stable, necessary, universal end amidst the evident contingency, pluralism, and instability of most ends. It makes us, and not God or nature, the authors of our moral lives. In the end, Kant's 'anti-consequentialism,' his focus on intentions, is a way of insisting on actions that take their character and value from what should matter most to us, namely individual and collective free rational agency, rather than only and always taking the character of reactive responses to circumstance. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:26. DAVID HUME ON REASON, PASSIONS AND MORALS Perhaps the most notorious passage in Hume's Treatise is the one that concerns the relative roles of reason and passions, where he says: Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions (T 415). This psychology of action is the foundation of Hume's moral theory, wherein we find his two other notorious dicta, one (...) being!.¡oral distinctions cannot be derived from reason, and the other, Ought cannot be derived from is. Many commentators have interpreted Hume as saying that reason plays no role in the making of moral judgments, and, while not taking the rationalistic line, criticized him for not giving reason its proper due. The aim of this paper is to show that Hume's primary concern is to argue against the rationalist position which takes reason to be sufficient (always or sometimes) to move one to act, and to give rise to moral judgments. I wish to show that Hume is only concerned with dismissing the claim that reason could be a sufficient condition, not that it is a necessary one. Indeed, Hume could be interpreted as saying that reason is no less important than passions in shaping human conduct, anc in the area of inorai conduct, there can be no moral judgments without the work of reason. At the same time, however, passions remain the prime mover; reason does not move us to act (generally, hence morally). 1 shall try to show that the dictum '¿¡oral distinctions cannot be derived from reason' is essentially correct, but its being correct in no way shows that reason is not a necessary element of moral distinctions. 27. Before discussing the views of some critics of Hume's moral theory, it is important to clear up one source of misunderstanding that lies in Hume's discussion of the psychology of action. When Hume says that reason is the slave of passions, he does not say thereby that reason is unimportant. He is saying merely that reason alone does not move one to act. The force that propels one to action is the passion, whether it be love, or anger, or pride, or envy, or fear, or desire. Reason alone does not provide the motive. However, it is reason that does the groundwork, analyzing facts, perceiving relations, and drawing conclusions, all of which go to determine which action to perform, but the action will not be performed unless one of the passions is also present. Just because reason is the slave does not indicate that its work is not relevant. To extend the slavery metaphor, we may observe that slave owners supported slavery for the very reason that the slave's work was found indispensable; analogously, it must be observed that Hume is most unlikely to hole that reason plays no part in human action. To complete the analogy, we should say that while much could be achieved with slaves, it was the masters who conceived the plan, and the masters must rank higher in the causal order. We may observe further that greater achievement could be had by treating slaves properly, not overworking them, and not ill-treating them. If reason is the slave, it will be in our interest to cultivate it, sharpen it, and use it always and to the full. This could be inferred from HuTr.e's discussion of the understanding in Book 1 of the Treatise. indeed, in the conclusion of Book I, Hume points out forcefully that we contradict ourselves if we hold that no refin'd or elaborate reasoning is ever to be 28. receiv'd (T 268). For it is only through reasoning that we arrive at any such conclusion. He goes on to say: Very refin'd reflections have little or no influence upon us; and yet we do not, and cannot establish it for a rule, that they ought not to have any influence; which implies a manifest contradiction (T268). There cannot be a clearer demonstration that it is not the case that Hume fails to give reason its proper due. Later, I shall cite further evidence for this in relation specifically to the role of reason in... (shrink)

In my dissertation I aim to further our understanding of practical reasons and practical reasoning. In chapter one I evaluate and reject the most commonly accepted accounts of practical reasons, viz., Objectivism and Humeanism. They each offer an account of the conditions under which we have reasons, but they cannot tell us why these conditions have normative significance for us. I also argue that we cannot use a claim about the relationship between reasons and motivation to determine the nature of (...) practical reasons. ;In chapter two I claim that an acceptable account of what motivates us to act must be compatible with the fact that actions are things we do. I argue that neither desire-based nor belief-based accounts of motivation can accommodate this fact, and I sketch an alternative account according to which we are motivated to act by our decisions. ;I argue in chapter three that to make decisions is to hold oneself subject to certain constitutive laws about how to make decisions. I also claim that person P has a reason to do A if and only if it would be correct for P to decide to do A. A decision is correct, I contend, just in case it conforms with the constitutive laws of decision-making. Furthermore, the conditions under which we have reasons to act have this special status for us because we cannot avoid making decisions about how to act. ;In chapter four I claim that it seems as if there is no room in the world, as science understands it, for the performance of actions. I respond to this worry in two steps. First, I claim that our making decisions and carrying them out in action is compatible with the fact that our bodies move in accordance with physical laws. Second, I argue that our decisions are our own doings in a very deep sense. Therefore, the scientific world view does not preclude the kind of self-expression essential to action. (shrink)

Compared to other animals, humans appear to have a special motivation to share experiences and mental states with others (Clark, 2006;Grice, 1975), which enables them to enter a condition of ‘we’ or shared intentionality (Tomasello & Carpenter, 2005). Shared intentionality has been suggested to be an evolutionary response to unique problems faced in complex joint action coordination (Levinson, 2006;Tomasello, Carpenter, Call, Behne, & Moll, 2005) and to be unique to humans (Tomasello, 2014). The theoretical and empirical bases for (...) this claim, however, present several issues and inconsistencies. Here, we suggest that shared intentionality can be approached as an interactional achievement, and that by studying how our closest relatives, the great apes, coordinate joint action with conspecifics, we might demonstrate some correlate abilities of shared intentionality, such as the appreciation of joint commitment. We provide seven examples from bonobo joint activities to illustrate our framework. (shrink)

È possibile rendere compiutamente conto di ciò che gli artefatti e le tecnologie fanno, senza per questo sminuire il ruolo dell’agentività umana, ossia la capacità dell’essere umano di essere all’origine dell’azione e del senso?Per quanto determinismo tecnologico e sociocostruzionismo siano ormai approcci sufficientemente integrati, sembra quasi impossibile poter riconoscere l’uno senza pagare nulla di più che un piccolo contributo all’altro.Gli autori sottolineano quanto questa cesura che apparentemente riguarda un fenomeno circoscritto e settoriale come il ruolo degli artefatti nella costruzione del (...) mondo sociale, rispecchia in qualche modo l’antica distinzione proposta da Dilthey tra scienze della natura e scienze dello spirito. Il fatto é che tale divisione del lavoro scientifico sembra il risultato più che il punto di partenza di un lavoro deliberato di purificazione dei due domini . Per quanto utile da un punto di vista epistemologico, essa corre costantemente il rischio di proclamare a priori l’incapacità di alcune metodologie di indagare oggetti che si situerebbero al di là della loro giurisdizione . Inoltre, gli autori ritengono che questa distinzione sia alquanto problematica quando si tratta di questioni ontologiche. In linea con il pensiero di filosofi come Whithead , Delueze e Guatatri e Tarde , sostengono che tanto l’approccio sociocostruzionista quanto l’approccio tecno-determinista soffrano di un simile riduzionismo ontologico: ridurre l’oggetto di indagine a quanto la prospettiva inscritta in ciascuna metodologia consente di vedere e di analizzare.Prendendo le distanze da tale riduzionismo, questo articolo intende dimostrare che la materialità, la tecnologia e persino la natura intrudono costantemente nel mondo del significato, della comunicazione, del discorso. Allo stesso tempo, cultura e significato conferiscono senso e persino forma al mondo naturale . A fronte della propensione diffusa a pensare l’interazione come qualcosa che riguarda soltanto gli essere umani, gli autori mostrano che altre cose si autoconvocano costantemente nelle nostre conversazioni e che é legittimo ipotizzare che tali cose facciano «cose con le parole», per usare la famosa espressione che John Langshaw Austin coniò per indicare ciò che le persone fanno attraverso i loro atti linguistici.Attraverso un esempio tratto dalle osservazioni sul campo in un presidio medico d’urgenza operato da Medici senza Frontiere, gli autori mostrano che il sottolineare quanto e come le cose siano partecipanti attivi in una conversazione non significa evacuare il contributo umano all’attività di parola. Se le cose fanno cose con le parole é perché portano prospettivamente le persone a dire quel che dicono e, retrospettivamente, a far dire loro quel che hanno detto. Piuttosto che postulare che i soli partecipanti umani siano all’origine di quanto vien detto durante una conversazione, diventa possibile ritracciare altre origini o elementi che influenzano e condizionano ciò che le persone fanno mentre parlano tra loro.Il fatto che gli oggetti siano spesso trasformati dalla loro stessa incursione sulla scena interattiva viene vista come una prova della « realtà » del loro contributo alla conversazione. Utilizzando la metafora del ventriloquismo, gli autori mostrano che se i partecipanti umani fanno sì che le cose facciano cose con le parole, ciò é anche dovuto al fatto che le cose stesse fanno far loro cose con le parole, in quella sorta di oscillazione ventriloqua già sottolineata da David Goldbaltt . Individuare le tracce sia dell’agentività umana sia dell’agentività tecnologica, porta a riconoscere il grado di passività o passione inerente a qualunque attività o azione. Tale riconoscimento é cruciale dal momento che tale passività fa parte dei modi con cui le persone rendono razionale/giustificabile/legittimabile/ sanzionabile ciò che esse fanno e dicono nel corso di una interazione.Invece di ridurre l’interazione ad un fenomeno che riguarda esseri umani tra loro, appare più costruttivo riconoscere tutte le figure che popolano la scena interattiva, siano esse tecnologie, regolamenti, principi, emozioni o artefatti. La proposta avanzata dagli autori può dunque essere vista come un tentativo di riabilitare metaforicamente l’analisi del parlare prendendo seriamente in considerazione ciò che le figure letteralmente hanno da dire su come noi, gli umani, comunichiamo e lavoriamo.Se poiesis significa fabbricazione, allora forse poesia può diventare un modo innovativo di comprendere come funzionano le tecnologie e come noi interagiamo con esse.While we tend to think of interaction as involving human beings only, this paper proposes to show that other things – technologies, in particular – are continuously inviting themselves in our conversations and that these things can even be said to “do things with words.” Using the metaphor of ventriloquism, we show that if human participants make things do things with words, it is also because things animate them, a form of ventriloqual vacillation or oscillation already noticed by David Goldblatt . Acknowledging both human and technological agencies therefore leads us to recognize the degree of passivity or passion that is inherent in any activity or action, a recognition that is especially important given that its marks the accountable / reasonable / intelligible / justifiable / sanctionable character of what people do and say in interaction. (shrink)

This guide accompanies the following article: Nikolaj Nottelmann, ‘Belief‐Desire Explanation’. Philosophy Compass Vol/Iss : 1–10. doi: 10.1111/j.1747‐9991.2011.00446.xAuthor’s Introduction“Belief‐desire explanation” is short‐hand for a type of action explanation that appeals to a set of the agent’s mental states consisting of 1. Her desire to ψ and 2. Her belief that, were she to φ, she would promote her ψ‐ing. Here, to ψ could be to eat an ice cream, and to φ could be to walk to the ice cream vendor. (...) Adherents of belief‐desire explanation, often labelled “Humeans”, standardly assume that appeals to such belief‐desire pairs sufficiently explain many human and animal actions, and also that all actions are explainable thus, at least in so far as they are guided by the agent’s intentions. Humeans take their lead from David Hume’s famous dictum that “Reason...is only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” In its original context, this passage from the Treatise is naturally taken to convey the thesis that mental states subservient to epistemic rationality – such as beliefs – are never in themselves sufficient to motivate action. Thus, an appeal to an agent’s beliefs is never in itself sufficient to lay bare her motivations and explain her actions, but must be supplemented by an appeal to “passions” such as desires. Many philosophers, so‐called Anti‐Humeans, have sharply disagreed. Some have pointed to certain beliefs with alleged motivational force in isolation from desires, most commonly evaluative beliefs. Others have argued that belief‐desire psychology fails to cut up mental space in a way fruitful to action explanation. Instead, only appeals to other types of mental state will adequately explain many types of intentional action. The debate for and against Humeanism is a highly complex one, which is likely to persist along with any general interest in the theory of action explanation.Author RecommendsHume, David. A Treatise of Human Nature. 2nd ed. Edited and with an Analytical Index, by L. A. Selby‐Bigge. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978.Part III. Sect. III. of the Treatise is the classical source of the Humean view. Any in‐depth understanding of contemporary Humeanism must take it as its starting point.Stroud, Barry. Hume. London: Routledge, 1977.This is an excellent introductory text. Chap. VII treats on Humeanism and the key part of the Treatise listed above.Smith, Michael. ‘The Humean Theory of Motivation.’Mind 96.381 : 36–61.This is an authoritative modern account of Humeanism. Even if a bit imprecise in some regards, the text is lucidly written and nicely captures the structure of the debate over Humeanism.Schaefer‐Landau, Russ. Moral Realism. A Defence. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003.Chapt. 5 contains another fine, more recent, introduction to Humeanism and the typical arguments for and against it. This introduction is particularly recommendable in virtue of its clarity and comprehensiveness.Ratcliffe, Matthew. Rethinking Commonsense Psychology. A Critique of Folk Psychology, Theory of Mind and Simulation. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007.This monograph treats on a very wide number of subjects pertaining to action explanation and harbours many highly controversial theses. Still, it is a refreshing eye‐opener re the immense complexity of the topic of action explanation and the great variety of such explanations in our folk practices. On my view Ratcliffe makes plausible the view that neither our folk practices nor our scientific practices single out a unique model of action explanation as the only appropriate one. Rather our practices of action explanation constitute a rather motley family. The consequence of this to the debates over Humeanism is obvious: The combatants must get clear on the exact models of action explanation within which they discuss the place of belief‐desire references instead of pretending to fight over action explanation in general.Gendler, Tamar Szabó. ‘Alief and Belief.’Journal of Philosophy 105 : 634–63.This paper, together with Gendler’s contemporary sister paper ‘Alief in Action ’, is an engaging proponent of the view that belief‐desire psychology and its associated practice of Human action explanations gets psychological reality radically wrong. Gendler presents a number of cases where, allegedly, relevant human actions are only explicable by appeal to a type of mental state, which Gendler dubs “alief”. Aliefs are neither beliefs nor desires; but share certain characteristics with both.Online MaterialsSample SyllabusWeek I: David Hume’s viewHume, Treatise, Part III. Sect III.Stroud: Hume, Chapt. VII.Week II: Modern HumeanismSmith, ‘The Humean Theory of Motivation’.Nottelmann, ‘Belief‐Desire Explanation’.Week III: Modern Humeanism continued: The Dialectics of the DebateSchaefer‐Landau, ‘Motivational Humeanism’.Week IV: Intention, Agency and CausationDavidson, Donald. ‘Actions, Reasons, and Causes’ & ‘Freedom to Act’, both in: Essays on Actions and Events. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980.Week V: Modern Anti‐Humeanism, The Neo‐Kantian VersionScanlon, T. M. What we Owe to Each Other. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press, 1998, Chapt. 1. ‘Reasons’.Week VI: Modern Anti‐Humeanism, The Cognitive Science VersionGendler, Tamar Szabó. ‘Alief and Belief’, supplemented with excerpts of her ‘Alief in Action ’. Mind and Language 23.5 : 552–85.Focus Questions1 Which kinds of explanation do belief‐desire explanations belong to?2 In so far as belief‐desire explanations provide causal explanation of action, how are we to understand the causal nexus between belief‐desire pairs and successful agency?3 How are we to understand the notions of belief and desire as appealed to in belief‐desire explanations? Are they even conceptually distinct from the concept of a belief‐desire explanation of human action?4 May evaluative judgments such as moral judgments motivate and/or rationalize action in isolation from accompanying distinct co‐native states of the agent?5 Are certain types of intentional action better explained with sole reference to mental states different from belief as well as desire? (shrink)

It has been argued that the explanation of self-control requires positing special motivational powers. Some think that we need will-power as an irreducible mental faculty; others that we need to think of the active self as a dedicated and depletable pool of psychic energy or – in today more respectable terminology – mental resources; finally, there is the idea that self-control requires postulating a deep division between reason and passion – a deliberative and an emotional motivational system. This essay argues (...) that no such special motivational powers are necessary. Yet, at the same time, self-control does powerfully illustrate the importance of a feature of the mind. What it illustrates, I argue, is the importance of the mental activity of attention in the control of all action. It is by appeal to this mental activity that we can dispense with special motivational powers. If we think of Humeanism as the view that there is fundamentally only one kind of motivational system and that all action is based in that system, then this essay contributes to a defense of Humeanism. On the other hand, the essay also shows that any model of agency in terms of only beliefs and desires, motivational and representational states, or preferences and credences is incomplete. A different conception of Humeanism as the view that every mental state is either motivational, representational, or a combination of them, is false. (shrink)

Hurley is right to reject the dichotomy between intentional agents and mere stimulus/response habit machines, and she is also right in thinking that it is important to map the space of systems for the adaptive control of behaviour. So there is much in this paper with which I agree. My disagreement concerns folk psychology. Hurley thinks that control space can be charted by asking whether and to what extent animals are intentional agents. In contrast, I doubt that the concepts of (...) folk psychology, especially folk psychology construed as an interpretative practice, are the right mapping tools. If the main function of folk psychology is to make sense of one another, coordinate joint action, or make decisions about moral and legal responsibility, then there is no point in applying folk psychological notions to nonhuman minds. These interpretative functions simply do not arise for our interaction with nonhuman minds, and if folk psychology serves largely as a social tool serving them, there is no need to apply it to nonhumans, nor is there a reasonable expectation that we can usefully do so. If folk psychology does not even carve our sensing and control mechanisms at the joints, if it is not a good theory of human cognitive architecture, then it is not likely to be wellsuited for describing those of nonhuman agents. (shrink)

How can we ground the moral status of animals, or help to guide moral interactions with them? One strategy is to appeal to empathy, which has enjoyed a central place in animal ethics and is often cited as a useful alternative or supplement to rights theories. Empathy is thought to provide the means by which we perceive animals’ moral status (via their capacity for suffering) and the motivational profile that can prompt appropriate action. However, relying on empathy (...) has also come under criticism. In light of this criticism, both Prinz and Kasperbauer advise turning to other emotions such as anger, disgust, guilt, and admiration to ground moral judgment. In this paper, I take up this advice and explore the potential for admiration to ground the moral status of animals and to promote their ethical treatment. In particular, I explore the potential of Linda Zagzebski’s exemplarist moral theory (2006, 2017) to ground the moral status of admirable animals, and Alfred Archer’s Value Promotion Account of admiration’s motivational profile to support the moral treatment of animals.. I argue that Zagzebski’s view does offer important resources for grounding ethical concern for animals (though this result does not imply replacing the role of empathy). In exploring this potential, I will also raise some issues concerning our understanding of admiration and suggest a modification to Archer’s Value Promotion Account. (shrink)

The passionate and staunch defence of logic of the controversial thinker Ibn Ḥazm, Abū Muḥammad ʿAlī b. Aḥmad b. Saʿīd of Córdoba (384-456/994-1064), had lasting consequences in the Islamic world. Indeed, his book Facilitating the Understanding of the Rules of Logic and Introduction Thereto, with Common Expressions and Juristic Examples (Kitāb al-Taqrīb li-ḥadd al-manṭiq wa-l-mudkhal ilayhi bi-l-alfāẓ al-ʿāmmiyya wa-l-amthila al-fiqhiyya), composed in 1025-1029, was well known and discussed during and after his time; and it paved the way for the studies (...) of his compatriots Ibn Bājjah (d. 1138), Ibn Ṭufayl (1185), and Ibn Rushd (1198), who each gave demonstrative reasoning a privileged place within the methods of attaining knowledge. Unfortunately, as too often in the history of science, Ibn Ḥazm’s innovative perspectives and contributions in logic have been overlooked or considered with an attitude of contempt. On the one hand, his work has been seen, at best, as promulgating the benefits of studying Aristotle’s logic, so that his contribution is assessed as more didactical than conceptual. And on the other hand, those who do examine his innovations often consider them to be mistaken. As indicated by Chejne (1984, p. 2) contempt towards the logical work of Ibn Ḥazm was also present in its reception by the Eastern philosophers who accused him of deviating from Aristotelian logic and of dabbling in things beyond his capability. However, a reassessment of his work on logic has since begun, by delving into the ways the thinker of Córdoba studied the links between deontic and modal qualification of propositions. In this context Lameer’s (2013) paper on the logical sources of Ibn Ḥazm is worth mentioning; the author (p. 417, footnote 1) observes that, although, strictly speaking, it was al-Fārābī who first drew the parallelism between deontic and modal concepts, it was Ibn Ḥazm who developed it and worked it out in a more precise manner. A primary aim of this paper is to help fill some of these gaps by stressing the role of the work of Ibn Ḥazm in developing a notion of deontic necessity deeply rooted in legal normativity, and in explicitly discussing the transference between deontic and modal concepts. According to our view; the basic units of Islamic deontic logic are what we might call, indulging in terminological anachronism, heteronomous imperatives. As it turns out, the heteronomy of imperatives within Islamic legal systems contrasts with those of the purely moral realm, which seem to be closer to an autonomous conception of moral law. There it concurs again with Leibniz’s proposal to define obligatory as “what is necessary for a good person to do”. In the present paper, we will focus on the heteronomous imperatives of legal systems rather than on the imperatives of the purely moral realm. In this context, the work of Ibn Ḥazm extends the parallelism between the necessity of events and that of human actions stressed by his predecessors. According to our understanding, Ibn Ḥazm’s parallelism can be rendered explicit formally by means of a conditional (or hypothetical) structure shared by both deontic and modal propositions. Moreover, this structure makes apparent that this parallelism displays an underlying system of “degrees”. Indeed, while in the domain of events, given some conditions, it makes sense to distinguish between an event that is more likely to happen than another. Ibn Ḥazm speaks of near and distant possibility (such as the higher degree of likelihood of rain, given the condensation of clouds in December, and its lower degree, when the condensation occurs in summer); and, in the domain of actions, the Islamic notion of weighting actions determines degrees of virtue (or of legal and moral value). So whereas the degree of virtue of performing a forbidden act as determined by the distribution of sanction and reward is 0, we obtain the same value by pondering the likelihood of an impossible event to take place. Furthermore, as discussed in section II.3.2, the system of values at work in the parallelism can be seen as opening the way to a more direct correspondence. Thus, while in the realm of nature, likelihood of occurrence of an event is dependent upon the conditions specific to the occurrence of that event; while, in the realm of jurisprudence, likelihood of performing an action is dependent upon the distribution of reward and sanction specific to that action (being that, given the choice to perform or not perform a given action, those that will be rewarded are more likely to be performed than those that are not). According to this perspective, the point of the parallelism is that both deontic and modal qualifications measure the degree of an action or event to become actual; that is – indulging once more in anachronism (but this time from the Leibnizian background) – the degree measures how feasible (facile) an action or event may be. This suggests that Ibn Ḥazm’s perspectives already herald the links to probability and possibility explored by Leibniz six centuries later – see for example Leibniz’s (1671, A VI, I, p. 424-26) use of probability in the context of conditional right. Nevertheless, it also shows a crucial difference to the approach developed in the Elementa Jura Naturalis: whereas Leibniz’s studies seek to define what is to be just or virtuous, the logical system of deontic imperatives within Islamic jurisprudence presupposes that what is to be virtuous has already been settled. Determining what is to be virtuous is not achieved by logical reasoning within the system of legal jurisprudence, but by delving into the higher objectives of the Sharīʿa. While developing our point, we will delve into the logical structure of the heteronomous imperatives. This distinguishes our contribution from the existing literature, such as the papers of Chejne (1984), Lameer (2014), and Guerrero (1997, 2010, 2014), which do not provide a logical analysis of the deontic concepts put into work by Ibn Ḥazm. The true antecedent to the present paper is the work of Farid Zidani (2007, 2015), who, so far as we know, was the first to undertake such a task. Some of our own developments and general epistemological thoughts go beyond Ibn Ḥazm’s framework and motivations; mainly those contained in sections II.3.2 and IV. However, according to our view, these reflections suggest that Ibn Ḥazm’s approach has the substance for a broader and deeper exploration of the logic of norms. The paper is structured as follows:I.Ibn Ḥazm’s Logic of Heteronomous Imperatives. After presenting some extracts of the relevant text, we proceed by providing a formal reconstruction of the five forms of deontic modalities. II. A Landmark in the History of the Logical Analysis of Norms. Duties and Modalities. In this section, we study the transferences from deontic to modal necessity and possibility. We briefly compare the deontic system of Islamic Jurisprudence with that of Leibniz.III. Leibniz and Hypothetical Imperatives in Law.IV. Beyond Ibn Ḥazm: Conclusions and the Work Ahead. We will conclude the paper by discussing briefly some conceptual points that distinguish the logic of heteronomous imperatives from contemporary deontic logic. Our final words will discuss deontic-modal parallelism in the context of Ibn Ḥazm’s rejection of reasoning by conjecture and what we call “the internalization of nature.”. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:HUME, MOTIVATION AND MORALITY Hume remarks, in the Abstract, that his account of the passions in Book II of the Treatise has 'laid the foundation' (A 7 Ì1 for his theory of morals. Pall Ardal has shown how Hume's theory of certain indirect passions (pride, humility, love, hatred) underpins his theory of the evaluation of character. I propose to explore the links between Hume's account of motivation (...) and his treatment of an agent 'ß moral assessment of prospective action. Where Ardal stresses the moral spectator, my focus is on the agent. Hume himself attends primarily to the moral spectator, but the agent's perspective is central in two of his chief arguments concerning morals, that for the thesis that moral distinctions are derived from a moral sense, and that for the artificiality of justice. I shall take it that the argument of Treatise II, iii, 3 ("Of the influencing motives of the will") provides the framework for analysis: acting for moral reasons is like acting for any other reason; citing his moral principles to explain a man's actions is like citing his desire to preserve his health as an explanation of his taking exercise; deliberating about moral matters is like pondering the purchase of a pair of shoes. Of course there are differences; I shall look to them shortly. It is essential, however, to begin with the similarities. To a first approximation, the central doctrine is that the reasons that explain actions are rational causes of those actions. Reasons for actions are constituted by suitably related desires and beliefs; volitions are somehow implicated in intentional actions. Reasons are causes: the desires and beliefs that constitute reasons cause volitions, and thus actions. They are rational causes: there are links of special kinds between the contents of the desires and beliefs that constitute an agent's reasons for what he does, and the content of the volitions implicated in the actions done. Hume is at pains to deny that "reason [here: belief] alone can... be a motive to any action of the will" (T 413). But he insists there are "two principal parts [of human nature], which are requisite in all its actions, the affections and understanding' (T 493). I suggest that by "affections" he here means specifically (if broadly) desires, and so both the "direct passions" of desire and aversion and such "indirect passions" as benevolence, anger, pity, compassion and malice. Hume's official doctrines both of desires and of volitions are unsatisfactory as they stand; he treats each as simple impressions. To be sure, these simple impressions are said always to be accompanied by thoughts of (in Hume's phrase) their objects. Even such complex states, however, can play no satisfactory role in psychological theory. The insights that Hume's official doctrines mishandle can, I suggest, be incorporated into more defensible, and more-or-less Humean, analyses of the internal structure of desire and volition. Having made efforts along these lines elsewhere, however, I shall here concentrate on other features of desire and volition that are germane to Hume's moral psychology. Desires and volitions are alike in two linked respects, among others: neither takes a truth value (and so each differs from belief); each is a conative, not a cognitive, psychological state (and so, again, each differs from belief). Because desires and volitions are not capable of "an agreement or disagreement either to the real relations of ideas, or to real existence and matter of fact" it is "impossible... they can be pronounced either true or false" (T 458). Their general functional role is that of "propense and averse motions of the mind" (T 574). To be sure, there are differences. The principal difference is that of specific functional location: desires are constituents in reasons for acting: volitions are constituents of (or otherwise implicated in) actions done for such reasons. This functional difference is tied to differences of content. To grasp the many relations among belief, desire and volition, when the first two serve as 4 reason for (and so cause of) the third, it is useful to plot their causal relations onto the elements in an Aristotelian practical syllogism. Desires function as causally salient major premises... (shrink)

Constantine Sandis's suggestive new book consists of a series of discrete studies of aspects of Hume's philosophical system that culminate in an argument for the conclusion that "on Hume's view... we are only morally responsible for that subset of actions that have been motivated by our character traits". That final conclusion is the end of a wide-ranging and systematic argument that feels too compressed in the scant one-hundred and twenty-three pages in which it is presented, especially since the (...) philosophical and exegetical theses that Sandis presents along the way are intriguing and receive just enough support to make the reader long for a more robust consideration of them.Sandis's grand argument begins... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Artificial Virtues and the Sensible Knave1 David Gauthier Hume's account in the Treatise ofthe artificial virtues, their obligation and motivation, resists easy interpretation. Two passages, taken from his discussion of promises, will introduce, the problems I propose to examine. First: No action can be requir'd of us as our duty, unless there be implanted in human nature some actuating passion or motive, capable of producing the action. (...) This motive cannot be the sense of duty. A sense of duty supposes an antecedent obligation: And where an action is not requir'd by any natural passion, it cannot be requir'd by any natural obligation; since it may be omitted without proving any defect or imperfection in the mind and temper, and consequently without any vice. Now 'tis evident we have no motive leading us to the performance of promises, distinct from a sense of duty. If we thought, that promises had no moral obligation, we never shou'd feel any inclination to observe them.... But as there is naturally no inclination to observe promises, distinct from a sense of their obligation; it follows, that fidelity is no natural virtue, and that promises have no force, antecedent to human conventions.2 Ignore for the present the last sentence quoted. Hume seems clearly to be claiming that (1) an action can be a duty only if there is some motive to perform it other than a sense of duty, and (2) there is no motive to perform an act of promise-keeping other than a sense of duty. From (1) and (2) we may infer that (3) an act of promise-keeping can not be a duty. But since the sense of duty motivates an action only ifit is apprehended to be a duty, then from (2) and (3) we may conclude that (4) there is no motive to perform an act of promise-keeping that does not involve the mistaken apprehension that it is a duty. And the second passage: Afterwards a sentiment of morals concurs with interest, and becomes a new obligation upon mankind.... The difficulties, Volume XVIII Number 2 401 DAVID GAUTHIER that occur to us, in supposing a moral obligation to attend promises, we either surmount or elude. For instance; the expression of a resolution is not commonly suppos'd to be obligatory; and we cannot readily conceive how the making use of a certain form of words shou'd be able to cause any material difference. Here, therefore, we feign a new act ofthe mind, which we call the willing an obligation; and on this we suppose the morality to depend. But we have prov'd already, that there is no such act of the mind, and consequently that promises impose no natural obligation. (T 523) This time, ignore for the present the first sentence. The remainder would seem to confirm my reading ofthe first passage. Hume claims that (5) there is no natural obligation to perform an act of promise-keeping, but (6) we feign the willing of such an obligation. If, as Hume has claimed in the previous passage, (2) there is no motivation to perform an act ofpromise-keeping other than a sense ofduty, and if obligation and duty may be taken as equivalent, then we may conclude as before that (4) there is no motive to perform an act of promise-keeping that does not involve the mistaken apprehension that it is a duty. In his theory of the artificial virtues and vices, Hume considers "the three fundamental laws ofnature, thatofthestabilityofpossession, of its transference by consent, and of the performance of promises" (T 526). It would seem, from the passages cited, that Hume must suppose that there is no real obligation to keep promises, but only a feigned obligation. And since the reasoning that Hume employs in the first ofthe passages that I have cited is explicitly identified with "that reasoning, which prov'd justice in general to be an artificial virtue" (T 518), it seems clear that he must also suppose that there is no real obligation to uphold stability of possession and its transference by consent—no real obligation to observe the other laws of justice or equity.3... (shrink)

The work described in this report is motivated by the desire to test the expressive possibilities of action language C+. The Causal Calculator (CCalc) is a system that answers queries about action domains described in a fragment of that language. The Zoo World and the Traffic World have been proposed by Erik Sandewall in his Logic Modelling Workshop—an environment for communicating axiomatizations of action domains of nontrivial size. -/- The Zoo World consists of several cages and (...) the exterior, gates between them, and animals of several species, including humans. Actions in this domain include moving within and between cages, opening and closing gates, and mounting and riding animals. The Traffic World includes vehicles moving continuously between road crossings subject to a number of restrictions, such as speed limits and keeping a fixed safety distance away from other vehicles on the road. We show how to represent the two domains in the input language of CCalc, and how to use CCalc to test these representations. (shrink)

Detachment, Involvement, and Rationality: are we Essentially Rational Animals? Philosophers have long thought that what differentiates humans from mere animals is that humans are essentially rational. The rational nature of human beings lies in their ability to detach themselves from ongoing involvement and to ask for as well as give reasons for activity. According to the philosophical tradition, human action and perception generally should be understood in light of this ability. This essay examines a contemporary version of this conviction, (...) one promulgated by John McDowell. McDowell follows the tradition in suggesting that people are always able to step back and to ask as well as answer why questions about what they are doing, i.e., they always have reasons for their actions. This essay shows that people have no reasons for many of the things they do. They often, instead, simply respond to shifting situational fields of attraction and repulsion. These attractions and repulsions cannot be captured in propositional form—any attempt to describe, or even just name, them turns them into objects and robs them of their motivational force. The demands of the situation are not available as reasons, but exist only as embodied in actions. McDowell, consequently, errs in claiming that conceptual capacities are inextricably implicated in human activity. Nor is the detached, rational way of being any more essential to human life than is involved coping. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume's Knave and the Interests of JusticeJason Baldwin, doctoral student in philosophyHume's account of the artificial virtues of justice and promise-keeping developed in Book III, Part ii of the Treatise is among the most provocative elements of his ethics. His goal there is to tell a naturalistic story of the origin and moral standing of these virtues, a story that makes no appeal to any irreducibly moral motives or (...) properties but instead grounds even our most basic and apparently binding obligations in the same thoroughly human passions and sentiments with which Hume explains all our actions. Several modern critics, including David Gauthier and Stephen Darwall, have claimed that Hume's story of the artificial virtues is inconsistent with his account of natural human motivations, and have further claimed that Hume himself became aware of this problem in the second Enquiry, where he discussed it in the famous "sensible knave" passage in the last paragraphs of the "Conclusion." They therefore claim that Hume abandoned in the Enquiry what is usually taken to be his official Treatise account of justice and promise-keeping, and may also have intended a different account in the Treatise itself.This paper argues that the sensible knave passage neither signals nor requires any significant change in Hume's official Treatise story of the artificial virtues. Part 1 summarizes this official account, Part 2 explains the challenge Gauthier and Darwall believe the sensible knave poses to this account, and Part 3 defends the standard Humean account from this challenge. Whatever other problems Hume's account of justice and promise-keeping may have, the free rider problem, as developed by Gauthier and Darwall through the character of the sensible knave, is not among them.1. The Interest Account of Artificial Virtues1.1 Hume's Predecessor TraditionsHume makes few explicit references to the English-speaking predecessors whose work informs his thinking about the artificial virtues, and I shall follow his example. [End Page 277] But without pretending to survey that rich and varied history, we may usefully think of Hume's approach to justice and its allied virtues as an attempt to preserve the strengths of two opposed predecessor traditions.1 The first tradition, represented most prominently by Hobbes but also by Mandeville, explains the origin of virtues generally, including Humean artificial virtues, in purely naturalistic terms, without any appeal to divinely ordained ends or observer-independent moral facts. Hume shares this humanistic aspiration, but he disavows the cynical skepticism and crude egoism which are usually taken to accompany it. He wants to tell a story about justice which will allow us to admire its genuine moral worth even as we acknowledge its human pedigree.The second tradition, a reaction to the first, is the moral sense school represented by Shaftesbury, Butler, and especially Hutcheson. This tradition insists, against the cynical egoists, on a moral reality to which our sentiments or consciences give us immediate access, an access secured by God's design. Also characteristic of the moral sense theorists is the claim that human nature contains benevolent motives which are the objects of the moral sense's approval and which are just as basic to our constitution as are selfish motives. Hume avails himself of both moral sense strands, albeit in attenuated form. He agrees that justice and injustice are known by the sentiments, and he also believes that benevolent first-order motives are a part of human nature. But Hume rejects the moral sense tradition's Christian teleology, and he is also less optimistic about the potential of benevolence to explain such complex moral behaviors as are involved in our institutions of justice and promise-keeping.Hume's standard Treatise story of the origin of justice and promise-keeping, which we may call the "interest account," has two stages. In the first stage, Hume explains how the practices which constitute justice and promise-keeping arise through the working of our natural interests; in this stage Hume might be seen as working in the broadly naturalistic-egoist tradition. In the second stage, Hume explains how these practices and the motives which underlie them become the objects of moral evaluation, i.e., why... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Talking Greeks: Speech, Animals, and the Other in Homer, Aeschylus, and PlatoJo-Ann SheltonJohn Heath. The Talking Greeks: Speech, Animals, and the Other in Homer, Aeschylus, and Plato. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. viii + 392 pp. Cloth, $90.In The Talking Greeks, John Heath has produced a provocative exploration of the significance of language capacity in ancient Greek society. In his Introduction, he investigates how the Greeks came (...) to associate speech—the word he uses to denote language capacity—with rationality and how, correspondingly, logos came to mean not simply the articulation of a thought, but the thought itself. Heath presents three major theses about the Greeks and speech. First, the Greeks believed that the most important difference between themselves and other animals was that humans were capable of speech and animals were not. They thus considered speech to be a defining characteristic of humanity. The dichotomy of the talking man and the speechless animal was established early on and persisted in Greek thought of all periods. Heath contends that the speechless animal Other also became the primary metaphor for Other humans—women, slaves, and non-Greeks, for example—who, though capable of speaking, were considered to be incapable of the effective use of speech. In turn, the seeming inability of these Others to be "fully human" (a phrase that Heath uses frequently) provided Greek men with the justification to relegate them to subordinate positions and, in effect, to silence them. Heath maintains that language capacity was central to all judgments about status, and that the Greeks granted authority to their leaders on the basis of mastery of speech.Second, the Greeks believed that speech enabled humans to create culture and thus evolve away from the bestial. Speech was fundamental to the development of systems of justice and morality and therefore to the rise of the polis.Third, because men in Greece, and in Athens in particular, attached such great value to the mastery of speech, they were keen to engage in debates. Heath asserts that one of the most important legacies of the ancient Greek world is its emphasis on open inquiry about political, social, and cultural traditions. He chides scholars who focus negatively on the Greek construction of dichotomies and hierarchies and therefore fail to acknowledge that the Greeks continually challenged these very constructions. Heath insists that we have inherited from them a pattern of public self-criticism, and that this pattern has brought about progress in the modern western world in improving the status of the "muted" members of the community.These three propositions underlie Heath's discussions throughout the book as he examines the ways in which Homer, Aeschylus, and Plato used the [End Page 603] metaphorical framework of the talking human and the speechless animal to explore the definition of humanity. Heath recognizes that the terms "mastery of speech" and "fully human" resist easy definition, and he devotes the book to illustrating how the Greeks variously employed these terms. Throughout, as Heath develops his own arguments, he draws on and provides extensive discussions of the work of many other scholars in a wide range of disciplines. His arguments are also reinforced by his close philological analyses of the Greek texts.In chapter 1, Heath begins his investigations of speech and human status in Homer. He notes that, in the many animal similes in the Iliad and the Odyssey, Homer attributes to the animals the same motivations for actions as the humans with whom they are being compared. The animals, however, are not capable of communicating their thoughts through speech. Within the human community, it is control over speech that characterizes humans with authority and distinguishes them from men of lower status and from non-Greeks, women, and slaves. The Trojans, when engaged in attack, for example, are depicted as bleating like sheep. And, according to Heath, Helen is portrayed as speaking impetuously and inappropriately. The voices of even royal Greek women carry no authority in public matters. In Homer, a hero is a person who is accomplished both at speaking words and at doing deeds, and only a man has the potential to combine these skills.Heath maintains in chapter... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:163 HUME'S THEORY OF MOTIVATION In this paper I shall defend a Humean theory of motivation. But first I should like to examine some of the standard criticisms of this theory and some alternative views that are currently in favour. Both in the Treatise and the Enguiry Hume maintains that reason alone never motivates action but always requires the cooperation of some separate, and separately identifiable desire-factor in (...) order to bring about action. What are Hume's grounds for this view? In the Treatise. Hume writes: 'Tis obvious, that when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object, we feel a consequent emotion of aversion or propensity, and are carry 'd to avoid or embrace what will give us this uneasiness or satisfaction.... 'Tis from the prospect of pleasure or pain that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object.... This passage suggests that the way we (and Hume) know about the presence of the separate desire factor which he claims is always needed to motivate our every purposive action is by being directly aware of some desire-feeling, by introspection, each and every time we act. There is however a familiar objection to this argument: no doubt we sometimes are aware of a feeling of desire when we act, e.g., in cases where we are motivated by strong emotions. But much of the time when we act calmly or casually, after having deliberated 'in a cool hour', or when performing routine and trivial acts, we are not directly aware of any desire-feeling at the time of action. 164 Hume is not unaware of this objection -- in reply to it he invokes his notorious doctrine of the calm passions. He writes: 'Tis natural for one, that does not examine objects with a strict philosophic eye, to imagine, that those actions of the mind are entirely the same, which produce not a different sensation, and are not immediately distinguishable to the feeling and perception. Reason, for instance, exerts itself without producing any sensible emotion; and except in the more sublime disquisitions of philosophy, or in the frivolous subtilities of the schools, scarce ever conveys any pleasure or uneasiness. Hence it proceeds, that every action of the mind, which operates with the same calmness and tranquillity, is confounded with reason by all those, who judge of things from the first view and appearance. Now 'tis certain, there are certain calm desires and tendencies, which, tho' they be real passions, produce little emotion in the mind, and are more known by their effects than by the immediate feeling or sensation. These desires are of two kinds; either certain instincts originally implanted in our natures, such as benevolence and resentment, the love of life, and kindness to children; or the general appetite to good, and aversion to evil, consider 'd merely as such. When any of these passions are calm, and cause no disorder in the soul, they are very readily taken for the determination of reason, and are suppos'd to proceed from the same faculty, with that, which judges of truth and falshood. Their nature and principles have been suppos'd the same, because their sensations are not evidently different. (T 417) The most obvious application of this argument would be to cases of cool, seemingly passionless 165 deliberation: e.g., in the course of planning the family budget I set aside funds for the children's education. A cursory inspection (or recollection) of the contents of my conscious mind at the time of acting would reveal to me some purely rational considerations that I had in mind at the time. I had some thoughts at the time whose contents are (roughly) expressible in such words as "If I don't put aside so much per month over so many years we will never be able to see them all through university." But cursory introspection or recollection would not detect any separately identifiable desire-factor present to my conscious mind at the time. Considered philosophical examination, Hume assures us, will reveal one, a 'calm' one -- in this case calm 'kindness to children'. Less obviously, the calm-passions argument, most naturally applicable to cases of deliberation... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Moral Motivation and the Development of Francis Hutcheson’s PhilosophyJohn D. BishopHutcheson was an able philosopher, but philosophical analysis was not his only purpose in writing about morals. 1 Throughout his life his writings aimed at promoting virtue; his changing philosophical views often had to conform, if he could make them, to that rhetorical end. But a mind which understands philosophical argument cannot always control the conclusions at which (...) it arrives. The result for Hutcheson was often tension in his thought—which in the end produced a farrago when he tried to create a system of moral philosophy.Throughout his writing career, Hutcheson’s views on the problem of moral motivation were a combination of change and development against a background of certain constant views. A close examination of his views on moral motivation throws light on the development of his thought, including his growing Stoicism, and some of the changes he made to the moral sense theory.The phrase “moral motivation” can refer to either of two issues. On the one hand there is the question of what motivates virtuous actions, and the usual answer for Hutcheson is benevolence. Because they are approved by the moral sense, actions motivated by benevolence are morally good or virtuous (terms which I will use interchangeably). Hutcheson in his late writings calls such actions “formally good” to distinguish them from actions which do in fact promote the greatest happiness, or the natural good, of others; these latter actions are “materially good.” 2 On the other hand there is [End Page 277] the question of how our knowledge of the virtuousness of certain actions can motivate and how in particular such knowledge can motivate morally good actions. For Hutcheson we know which actions are morally good because we have a moral sense, but how this knowledge motivates morally good actions is a question Hutcheson made several attempts to answer. This second question, how the moral sense can motivate morally good actions, is the focus of this paper. The development of Hutcheson’s idea of benevolence will be commented on briefly, but first we need to look at some of the unchanging aspects of Hutcheson’s thought and purposes to provide background to the issue of motivation.Virtuous actions are the result of virtuous character. Hutcheson maintained this from his earliest publications (Reflections, par. 5) to his posthumous System. 3 A virtuous character cannot be directly chosen, even if we wanted to, because we cannot choose to have benevolent desires: “[N]either benevolence nor any other affection or desire can be directly raised by volition” (Inquiry, IV, 139; revised from first edition).But virtue can be cultivated:... virtue, itself, or good dispositions of mind, are not directly taught, or produced by instruction; they must be originally planted in our nature by its great Author, and afterwards strengthened and confirmed by our own cultivation.(Inquiry, IV, 271. Changed from I, 253, with reference to cultivation added; cf. also Introduction, 13, 25, 38, 39, 58–59, etc.)We can cultivate virtue in ourselves; and through writing, teaching, conversation, and social interaction, we can cultivate it in others. 4 At the start of his career, when announcing in Reflections the purpose of his writing on [End Page 278] moral theory, Hutcheson regrets that the moral systems common in his day are not conducive to promoting virtue: they are written, he says, by moralists who are “sour and morose in their deportment;... easily put out of humour...; dejected with common calamities, and insolent upon any prosperous change in fortune” (Reflections, par. 4). He promises that his forthcoming Inquiry will not have this fault. In the preface to the Essay he complains about the writings of the ethical egoists because “many [people] have been discouraged from all attempts of cultivating kind generous affections in themselves, by a previous notion that there are no such affections in nature...” (I, v; III, v). Throughout all the rest of his writings on morality Hutcheson advocates both the private and communal cultivation of virtue, and at the same time he contributes to that cultivation.The other constant which dominates the moral motivation issue is Hutcheson’s rejection of egoism. Benevolence is a... (shrink)

I discuss two ways in which emotions explain actions: in the first, the explanation is expressive; in the second, the action is not only explained but also rationalized by the emotion's intentional content. The belief-desire model cannot satisfactorily account for either of these cases. My main purpose is to show that the emotions constitute an irreducible category in the explanation of action, to be understood by analogy with perception. Emotions are affective perceptions. Their affect gives them (...) motivational force, and they can rationalize actions because, like perception, they have a representational intentional content. Because of this, an emotion can non-inferentially justify a belief which in its turn justifies or rationalizes an action; so emotions may constitute a source of moral knowledge. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume's Hobbism and His Anti-Hobbism Daniel E. Flage Thomas Hobbes posed a crise morale to which British philosophers attempted to reply for over a century.1 Hobbes maintained that the terms 'good' and 'evil' have no import beyond individual self-interest and the fulfilment or failure to fulfil one's desires.2 While alluding to lawsofnature knownbyreason,3whetherone deems suchlaws dictates ofprudence4 or laws of some moral import,5 Hobbes held: (1) that the notion (...) ofjustice arises only after the institution of a commonwealth, and (2) that the dictates of justice are merely the dictates of the sovereign.6 Hence, justice is strictly a matter ofconvention. In this paper I argue that the Hume ofthe Treatise was a mitigated Hobbist.7 Like Hobbes, Hume held that the notions of justice and obligation reston a setofconventional social rules. Hume distinguished himselffrom Hobbes primarily with respecttoquestions ofmoral value, and though he provided an account of moral obligation, this was secondary to his considerations of moral value. To establish this, I briefly examine the 'is'-'ought' paragraph before turning to Hume's discussions of obligation and value. 1. 'Is' and Ought' To understand the 'is'-'ought' paragraph, one must consider it in the context of Treatise 3.1.1. There Hume examines the source of one's knowledge ofmoral value, namely, "Whether 'tis by means ofour ideas or impressions we distinguish betwixt vice and virtue, and pronounce an action blameable or praise-worthy?"s Hume's discussion, however, moves rather freely between considerations ofmoral value ('good' and 'evil', 'virtue' and Vice') and considerations of moral obligation Cright' and'wrong"). Evenin the 'is'-'ought'paragraph, a paragraph that seems to be concerned with purported relations between questions offact and questions ofmoral obligation, Hume explicitly alludes to value claims at the end of the paragraph (T 470). Since a moral philosopher might make any one of three claims regarding the relations between value and obligation, namely, (a) value claims are primary and obligation claims are dependent on them;9 (b) obligation claims are primary and value claims are dependent upon them;10 or (c) there are independent grounds for claims of value and obligation, I argue that Hume was attempting to dispel position (b). If this is correct, then Hume's Volume XVIII Number 2 369 DANIEL E. FLAGE arguments both pave the way for a conventionalist theory ofobligation and undercut Hobbes's rationalistic account ofnatural law.11 Hume's discussion in Treatise 1.1.1 is a critique of moral rationalism. It consists of two types of arguments. First, there is an argument from motivation that since moral qualities influence the passions, but whatis known by reason does notinfluence the passions, moral qualities are not known by reason (T 458-63). Second, there is a series of arguments to show that moral qualities cannot be known by reason. In examining some ofthe latter discussions, we shall see how in rejecting a rationalistic ground for moral obligation, Hume also undercuts any rationalistic ground for claims ofmoral value.12 Remember, Hume's question was "Whether 'tis by means of our ideas or impressions we distinguish betwixt vice and virtue, and pronounce an action blameable or praise-worthy?" (T 456). The rationalists answered this question in terms ofideas, claiming, that there are eternal fitnesses and unfitnesses of things, which are the same to every rational being that considers them; thattheimmutable measures ofrightand wrongimpose an obligation, not only on human creatures, but also on the Deity himself: All these systems concur in the opinion, that moraUty, like truth, is discern'd merely by ideas, and by their juxta-position and comparison. (T 456-57) In this, his initial account ofthe rationalists' position, Hume seems to focus on moral obligation, rather than moral value: the alleged eternal fitnesses seem to be moral rules such as, "All cases ofwilful murder are wrong," rather than rules such as, "All cases of wilful murder are vicious (evil)." If it were possible to establish that a rule of moral obUgation is true, a moralist might accept an additional putatively self-evident bridge-principle that, "Any action that is right (wrong) is virtuous (vicious)," and thereby deduce a claim of moral value... (shrink)

An important question about the nature of virtue is whether an agent's being virtuous requires the harmony in the agent between right action and right passion. This dissertation tries to answer this question by examining a particular virtue-- courage. ;The dissertation discusses different positions in both the West and the East on the relation of action and passion in the virtue of courage. These positions form a spectrum as follows: Mencius's view : courage does not involve battling with (...) adverse desire or feeling, since the courageous agent is fearless. Furthermore, great courage or moral courage is emotionally motivated. Aristotle's view: courage is not a form of self-control, although the courageous agent has medial fear. However, while courage is not emotionally motivated in the same way as other Aristotelian virtues, it is not an apathetic state, since it is emotionally motivated by love for the noble to a certain degree. James Wallace's view: courage sometimes is a virtue of self-control, and sometimes is not. Neither harmony between action and passion nor an internal struggle on the part of the agent is a necessary condition of courage. Robert C. Roberts's view: courage usually involves battling with the desire to flee and overcoming fear. Although there are exceptions, courage is basically a form of self-control. ;After examining the above positions, the author states her own views on the issues. The author believes that the relations between action and passion in cases of courage are various. In the case of ideal courage, an agent's action and passion are in harmony, but the agent's emotional motivation mainly comes from the agent's other virtues. In the case of ordinary courage, although the agent has to battle with adverse passion, the courageous action is not simply the outcome of the victory of will power over passion. There are both cognitive and emotional factors which contribute to the strength of will. ;Through the study of courage, the dissertation concludes that the harmony of action and passion is only a criterion of perfect virtue. Virtue in general does not require such harmony. (shrink)

The reasons view holds that morally worthy actions are right actions motivated by the reasons that make them right. Opponents object that such actions are only accidentally right, and it is widely held that morally worthy actions cannot be accidentally right. My aim here is to defend the reasons view from this objection by considering conditional reasons. Once these reasons are in view, actions motivated by the reasons that make them right (...) will no longer appear accidentally right. Keywords: Moral worth; Moral reasons; Conditional reasons. (shrink)

Abstract: In this article I consider Bernard Williams's argument against the possibility of external reasons for action and his claim that the only reasons for action are therefore internal. Williams's argument appeals to David Hume's claim that reason is the slave of the passions, and to the idea that reasons are capable of motivating the agent who has them. I consider two responses to Williams's argument, by John McDowell and by Stephen Finlay. McDowell claims that even (...) if Hume is right, there might nevertheless be external reasons. Finlay also claims that external reasons exist but, rejecting the connection between reasons and motivation, claims that they don't matter—that is, aren't motivationally significant for the agent whose reasons they are. Although I reject aspects of McDowell's and Finlay's arguments, I argue that external reasons do exist and in particular that any agent has an external reason to satisfy the preconditions of his or her agency. (shrink)

According to many criteria, agency, intentionality, responsibility and freedom of decision, require conscious decisions. Freud already assumed that many of our decisions are influenced by dynamically unconscious motives or that we even perform unconscious actions based on completely unconscious considerations. Such actions might not be intentional, and perhaps not even actions in the narrow sense, we would not be responsible for them and freedom of decision would be missing. Recent psychological and neurophysiological research has added to (...) this a number of phenomena (the "new unconscious") in which behavior is completely unconscious or in which the decision or its execution is influenced by unconscious factors: priming, automatic behavior, habitualized behavior, actions based on plain unconscious deliberations, intrusion of information from the dorsal pathway, etc. However, since this makes up the largest part of the behavior which is generally regarded as action, intentionality, yet agency, responsibility and even compatibilist freedom of decision for the largest part of our behavior may be threatened. Such considerations have led to a lively debate, which, however, suffers from generalizations that lump all these unconscious phenomena together. In contrast, the aim of this article is to discuss individual unconscious influences on our behavior separately with respect to what extent they require changes in traditional conceptualizations. The first part (2-4) of the article outlines the "traditions" and their elaborations: the intentional causalist concept of action, an associated empirical theory of action and standard concepts of responsibility and compatibilist freedom of decision, as well as the challenges for them. In the second part (5-9), the aforementioned unconscious influences on our actions (except for automated and habitualized actions, which I discuss elsewhere) are examined: 1. unconscious priming, 2. dynamically unconscious motives, 3. dorsal pathway information influencing conscious decisions, 4. unconsciously altered execution of conscious intentions, 5. unconscious deliberations and decisions. To what extent do these phenomena C1. require a change in the concept of action, C2. curtail intentionality or agency, C3. responsibility and C4. freedom? The result is: The curtailments prove to be far less dramatic than they initially appear; they require more watchfulness but no conceptual change. (shrink)

The basis of having a direct moral obligation to an entity is that what we do to that entity matters to it. The ability to experience pain is a sufficient condition for a being to be morally considerable. But the ability to feel pain is not a necessary condition for moral considerability. Organisms could have possibly evolved so as to be motivated to flee danger or injury or to eat or drink not by pain, but by “pangs of pleasure” (...) that increase as one fills the relevant need or escapes the harm. In such a world, “mattering” would be positive, not negative, but would still be based in sentience and awareness. In our world, however, the “mattering” necessary to survival is negative—injuries and unfulfilled needs ramify in pain. But physical pain is by no means the only morally relevant mattering—fear, anxiety, loneliness, grief, certainly do not equate to varieties of physical pain, but are surely forms of “mattering.” An adequate morality towards animals would include a full range of possible matterings unique to each kind of animal, what I, following Aristotle, call “telos”. Sometimes not meeting other aspects of animal nature matter more to the animal than does physical pain. “Negative mattering” means all actions or events that harm animals—from frightening an animal to removing its young unnaturally early, to keeping it so it is unable to move or socialize. Physical pain is perhaps the paradigmatic case of “negative mattering”, but only constitutes a small part of what the concept covers. “Positive mattering” would of course encompass all states that are positive for the animal. An adequate ethic for animals takes cognizance of both kinds. The question arises as to how animals value death as compared with pain. Human cognition is such that it can value long-term future goals and endure short-run negative experiences for the sake of achieving them. In the case of animals, however, there is no evidence, either empirical or conceptual, that they have the capability to weigh future benefits or possibilities against current misery. We have no reason to believe that an animal can grasp the notion of extended life, let alone choose to trade current suffering for it. Pain may well be worse for animals than for humans, as they cannot rationalize its acceptance by appeal to future life without pain. How can we know that animals experience all or any of the negative or positive states we have enumerated above? The notion that we needed to be agnostic or downright atheistic about animal mentation, including pain, because we could not verify it through experience, became a mainstay of what I have called “scientific ideology”, the uncriticized dogma taught to young scientists through most of the 20th century despite its patent ignoring of Darwinian phylogenetic continuity. Together with the equally pernicious notion that science is “value-free”, and thus has no truck with ethics, this provided the complete justification for hurting animals in science without providing any pain control. This ideology could only be overthrown by federal law. Ordinary common sense throughout history, in contradistinction to scientific ideology, never denied that animals felt pain. Where, then, does the denial of pain and other forms of mattering come from if it is inimical to common sense? It came from the creation of philosophical systems hostile to common sense and salubrious to a scientific, non-commonsensical world view. Reasons for rejecting this philosophical position are detailed. In the end, then, there are no sound reasons for rejecting knowledge of animal pain and other forms of both negative and positive mattering in animals. Once that hurdle is cleared, science must work assiduously to classify, understand, and mitigate all instances of negative mattering occasioned in animals by human use, as well as to understand and maximize all modes of positive mattering. (shrink)

Today it is widely recognized that we face urgent and serious environmental problems and we know much about them, yet we do very little. What explains this lack of motivation and change? Why is it so hard to change our lives? This book addresses this question by means of a philosophical inquiry into the conditions of possibility for environmental change. It discusses how we can become more motivated to do environmental good and what kind of knowledge we need (...) for this, and explores the relations between motivation, knowledge, and modernity. After reviewing a broad range of possible philosophical and psychological responses to environmental apathy and inertia, the author argues for moving away from a modern focus on either detached reason and control or the natural, the sentiments, and the authentic, both of which make possible disengaging and alienating modes of relating to our environment. Instead he develops the notion of environmental skill: a concept that bridges the gap between knowledge and action, re-interprets environmental virtue, and suggests an environmental ethics centered on experience, know-how and skillful engagement with our environment. The author then explores the implications of this ethics for our lives: it changes the way we think about, and deal with, health, food, animals, energy, climate change, politics, and technology. (shrink)

It is unfortunately a lot easier to raise an arch eyebrow than it is to describe critical terms that might account for the values in idealization while preserving a pluralistic sense of possible canons and their uses. Instead of facing the challenge directly, I shall rely on what I call a contrastive strategy. Were I simply to assert a traditional psychology with its attendant values, I would expose myself to a host of suspicious charges about my pieties and delusions. So (...) I shall begin by concentrating on the limitations I take to be inherent in the empiricism of the critical historicists’ position. If, by deflating idealization, their arguments prove reductive, they should provoke us to ask what it is they reduce. We will find ourselves forced back within the circle of literary and existential expectations I suspect most of us still share. But now we might appreciate the force and possible uses of that training when we measure it against all we cannot do if we accept an alternative stance. That we can measure at all, of course, may emerge as the most significant consequence of this experiment in using contrastive strategies.The subject of self-interest provides us with a clear test among these competing positions, and it establishes some of the psychological concepts we will need if we are to describe the cultural functions canons can serve. Critical historicism concentrates on two basic aspects of self-interest—the desire for power over others and the pursuit of self-representations that satisfy narcissistic demands. Out of these aspects, ideologies are generated and sustained. But this is hardly an exhaustive account of needs, motives, and powers. I propose that at least two other claims seem plausible, each with important consequences for our understanding of the canon—that some people can understand their empirical interests to a degree sufficient to allow them considerable control over their actions and that a basic motive for such control is to subsume one’s actions under a meaning the self can take responsibility for.4 4. I use the term “empirical interests” in what I take to be a Kantian sense. “Empirical” refers to interests one simply accepts as preferences, without any need for justification. These interests invite ideological analysis, since, for Kant, they come essentially from outside as heteronomous rather than autonomous features of a subject’s life. The opposite of “empirical,” in this sense, is interests one tries to rationalize on principles that, at some level, have criteria not selected by the agent and also applicable to some other agents. For a historical account of the concept of interests, see Albert O. Hirschman, The Passions and the Interests: Political Arguments for Capitalism before Its Triumph. For a clear conceptual analysis of problems in attributing all motives to self-interest, see Paul W. Taylor, Principles of Ethics: An Introduction, chap. 3. Charles Altieri is professor of English and comparative literature at the University of Washington. He is the author of Act and Quality: A Theory of Literary Meaning and Humanistic Understanding and Self and Sensibility in Contemporary American Poetry and is presently working on value in ethics and esthetics. His previous contributions to Critical. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Disaster Anarchy: Mutual Aid and Radical Action by Rhiannon FirthJohn-Erik HanssonRhiannon Firth. Disaster Anarchy: Mutual Aid and Radical Action. London: Pluto Press, 2022. Paperback, 243 pp. ISBN 9780745340463The COVID-19 pandemic and the unfolding climate crisis, with the multiplication of unprecedented weather events, have shown how urgent it is to reflect on our responses to disaster. Following up on themes she first broached in Coronavirus, Class, and (...) Mutual Aid in the United Kingdom, Rhiannon Firth throws a fresh, anarchist, and utopian light on disaster relief in Disaster Anarchy.1 In this work, Firth seeks to “consider how [anarchist] social movements’ impressive efforts in mutual aid might contribute to a radical and revolutionary reconceptualisation of disasters and the processes of relief and recovery efforts” (19). To do so, she begins by surveying the dominant approaches to disaster relief (chapters 2 and 3) before offering a comprehensive anarchist theoretical critique of these perspectives (chapter 4). Firth then fleshes out her anarchist theory of disaster and community response through two empirical case studies of grassroots relief efforts. In chapter 5 she looks into the Occupy Sandy movement, a New York area community-based response to the damage caused by Hurricane Sandy’s passage in October 2012 in the United States. The final chapter is then dedicated to the COVID-19 Mutual Aid Groups that emerged in the United Kingdom during the pandemic.In building her argument, Firth mobilizes anarchist (and more broadly radical) theory and interviews with participants in both movements. She engages with how activists motivated and understood their participation in mutual aid groups, perceived disaster and relief organizing, sought to solve practical and political problems, and reflected on their experiences. The empirical sections of Disaster Anarchy are thus reminiscent of investigations into the anarchist connections and orientations of contemporary social movements, such as Occupy Wall Street.2 However, Firth’s is a work [End Page 606] of political theory. Her interviews were not conducted simply to describe and analyze the anarchist components of disaster relief social movements. Echoing Uri Gordon, she proposes to take the “worldviews of activists seriously as sources of theoretical knowledge,” leading us to rethink both anarchism and the politics of disaster as a whole (16).3 There lies a key part of the originality of Firth’s contribution to both anarchist theory and to the study of disaster relief. The utopian core of Disaster Anarchy also shines through this movement-based theoretical elaboration of an anarchist challenge to the dominant theories and practices of disaster relief. By examining mutual aid groups in critical dialogue with anarchist theory, Firth raises the possibility of more egalitarian and democratic “utopian alternatives to the status quo,” though, as she reminds us, they always run the risk of being co-opted (20).To set the scene for the desirability of anarchist approaches to disaster relief, Disaster Anarchy opens with Firth’s dissatisfaction with what she identifies as the two main sets of approaches to disaster studies. The first represents “the dominant neoliberal paradigm of disaster politics” and falls under the umbrella of “Disaster Risk Reduction (DRR)” (21). Firth contends that, despite some internal variety, all DRR approaches share the three same basic assumptions. First, DRR considers disasters to be “ruptures in the normal functioning of society.” They become a “management problem” that must be dealt with using the tools of political governance to restore order and ensure “systemic stability” (39–40). This can be done both directly through state institutions, and through civil society-based nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) that cooperate with state institutions. DRR then evaluates responses using the categories of “efficiency and cost-effectiveness,” leaving aside “the affects and human impacts of disasters” (40). Second, DRR tends to flatten out differences between disasters, and in the ways in which individuals and groups respond to them. Disaster becomes abstract, and authorities can design sets of responses taken to be effective regardless of local contexts and demands. DRR approaches are therefore particularly congenial to the growth of large governmental “specialised agencies like DHS [Department of Homeland Security] and FEMA [Federal Emergency Management Agency]” that produce knowledge and practices linked to the vertical “management of disaster” (41). Finally... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Questioning the Motives of Habituated Action:Burke and Bourdieu on PracticeDana AndersonThe British official's habit, in the Empire's remotest spots, of dressing for dinner is in effect the transporting of an idol, the vessel of a motive that has its sanctuary in the homeland.—Kenneth Burke, A Grammar of Motives, 44In his recent Kenneth Burke and the Conversation after Philosophy, Timothy Crusius locates Burke in the context of "PostPhilosophical" thought (...) by describing Burke's expansive Dramatistic project as a praxis—as a program encompassing "any act whatsoever, including symbolic action (i.e., expression, whether artistic or discursive), in behalf of a better life." When praxis is conceived broadly as a dialectical perspective on human action—that agents and structures interact in mutually determining ways—the term becomes, in fact, an accurate summary of the entire Burkean corpus: "If we understand it as Burke does," Crusius continues, "all that he wrote is praxis" (1999, 198). This panoramic scope of Burke's dialectical inquiry is certainly one reason it remains rhetorical theory's perhaps most flexible and productive framework for considering human action; the Dramatistic pentad and its ratios for discussing the attribution of motive continue to invite theoretical "ways of placement" as multifaceted as human motives themselves.Speaking of Burke's work in terms of praxis, however, at least in the term's contemporary critical usage,1 raises a question regarding a cognate concept that the idea of praxis entails: in what sense is Burke's pentadic grammar of action equipped to consider the habituated actions characteristic of human practice?Practice, as a conceptual descendant of Marxian praxis, retains a connection with what Marx called "human sensuous activity" (1968, 28-30).2 In its most general sense, practice refers to the regular and repeated activities of agents that, in their quotidian enactment, dialectically [End Page 255] constitute an agent's sense of self and of reality in relation to external conditions of existence. While the activities of agents will tend to reify the dominant external conditions in which agents act, these external conditions are nonetheless open to change inasmuch as the evolving practices of individuals might come to challenge them. This perspective of the determined, yet determining nature of human practice is aptly summarized in The German Ideology, where Marx and Engels famously argue that "circumstances make men just as much as men make circumstances" (2000, 189).3 As Michel de Certeau's seminal studies of practice have demonstrated (de Certeau 1984; de Certeau, Giard, and Mayol 1998), the power of this relationship of mutual constitution between individuals and their worlds of external circumstances owes directly to the banality of the actions through which such constitution is accomplished—actions ranging from the way bread is served in a given household, to the way cosmetics are purchased in department stores, to the general "ways of operating" in urban spaces, including simply walking in one's own neighborhood (de Certeau, Giard, and Mayol 1998; Mayol 1998, 7-13). As Judith Butler very poignantly summarizes, it is through precisely such "embodied rituals of everydayness," however "taken-for-granted" they may be, that "a given culture produces and sustains belief in its own 'obviousness' " (1999, 113-14).The constitutive dynamics of such practical actions should surely figure prominently into any conception of Burke's work as praxis. Indeed, this dynamic is already implicit in the fact that, for Burke, it is only through the possibility of mutually transforming both ourselves and our worlds through actions material and symbolic that we might begin to move toward a better life. But while Dramatism and practice rest on similar perspectives of the dialectically constitutive nature of human action, several aspects of the grammar through which Burke investigates motive might appear to limit, or even to preclude, the Dramatistic examination of practice as a kind of motivated action. More specifically, Burke's consistent "anti-Behaviorist" emphasis on the conscious or purposive nature of action questions the extent to which Dramatism can account for the dispositional and habituated actions characteristic of practice, actions for which agents would be least able to articulate conscious purposes. To cast the issue in the context of my epigraph above... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:HINDUISM AND MIMETIC THEORY: A RESPONSE Julia W. Shinnick Austin, Texas i: Introduction "would like to thankProfessor Clooney for his thorough presentation.ofthe enormously complex and layeredtreatment ofviolence within Hindu religious traditions. In his paper I found many aspects of Hinduism that directly engage the mimetic theory, and I hope that I can articulate some of these in such a way as to initiate discussion during the next hour or (...) so this afternoon. As one of the so-called "Girardians," my first impression in response to Professor Clooney's paper is that the complexity of Hindu attitudes toward violence and sacrifice seem to indicate an awareness of the ritualization and control of violence, as developed over a very long period of time. I. Language of Avoidance/Denial: The Horse I would like to start with a small detail, but one which seems to me key to many larger issues in light of the mimetic theory: the ritual directions and prayers [1.1] in which the words "to kill" and "to die" are carefully avoided through the substitutions of such words as "he takes hold of and "he makes consent." I might add here also, that the avoidance ofusing "real" words for what is "really" being doneDkilling the animalDreminds me to some extent of the use of language by contemporary torturers as analyzed in the book The Body in Pain: The Making and Unmaking ofthe World by Elaine Scarry. Scarry argues that the language used by torturers avoids any acknowledg- Julia W. Shinnick141 ment of the real actions they are committing, as well as any acknowledgment of the very real pain they are causing their victims; furthermore, it is a dehumanizing language, referring to the victims as, for example, submarines, in one particular type of torture. This discrepancy between language and actual action is intriguing in both cases. Granted, the sacrificers in the Rg Veda do not deny that they are sacrificing the horse, and the "apology" (the words to the horseD"Do not let the axe linger in yourbody...") is not part ofan act oftorture, but the words have in common with Scarry's report a certain denial or avoidance of the reality of both the actions ofkilling and/orharming and the result ofthese actions, pain and/or death. Furthermore, the avoidance of the words "to kill" and "to die" would fit in with the mimetic theory's idea ofprohibiting the ritual from bringing actual facts of the founding murder to consciousness. II.Sacrificial Instructions The words addressed to the horse in the Rg Veda [I.l]and the instructions for the treatment of animals to be sacrificedO'The axe penetrates the thirty-four ribs of the swift horse...so that the limbs may be unperforated, and recapitulating, joint by joint "Dseem to me to intersect with the mimetic theory in terms of ritual sacrifice as a reenactment of the founding conflict. As I understand it, in the mimetic theory, one reason for careful, detailed ritual instructions and the sense ofgreatdangerin sacrifice (the sense that if the ritual is not carried out exactly and correctly, something horrible might happen) has to do with a non-conscious fear of unleashing the mimetic crisis all over again. I see aspects of this in the minutely detailed instructions to the priest such as the importance of leading the horse but not holding on to it, and the desire to pacify the animal to be sacrificed. These kinds of details are of course also present in other sacrifice rituals. For example, in Perpetua's Passion: The Death and Memory of a Young Roman Woman, Joyce Salisbury speaks of the simultaneous sacrifice of hundreds of children in ancient Carthage during the Punic Wars. The children had to be (appear) "willing" to be sacrificed. Ifthey cried out, the sacrifice was considered invalid. The parents also had to be (appear) "willing;" ifthe mother shed a tear, the sacrifice was invalid. Thus, immediately before the fatal knife thrust, the sacrificing parents would caress their children and tickle them to make them laugh. III.Violence and Kings According to James Williams in his introduction to chapter 6 of The 142Hinduism and Mimetic Theory: A Response Girard Reader, one of... (shrink)

Consider a typical fear episode. You are strolling down a lonely mountain lane when suddenly a huge wolf leaps towards you. A number of different interconnected elements are involved in the fear you experience. First, there is the visual and auditory perception of the wild animal and its movements. In addition, it is likely that given what you see, you may implicitly and inarticulately appraise the situation as acutely threatening. Then, there are a number of physiological changes, involving a (...) variety of systems controlled by the autonomic nervous system. Your heart races, your breathing becomes strained and your start trembling. These changes are accompanied by an expression of fear on your face: your mouth opens and your eyes widen while you stare at the wolf. There is also a kind of experience that you undergo. You are likely to feel a sort of pang, something that might consist in the perception of the physiological changes you are going through. Moreover, a number of thoughts are likely to cross your mind. You might think that the wild beast is about to tear you into pieces and that you’ll never escape from this. In addition to this, your attention focuses on the wolf and its movement, as well as, possibly, ways of escaping or defending yourself. Last, but not least, your fear is likely to come with a motivation, such as an urge to run away or to strike back. Whatever the details of the story, it is clear that a typical emotion episode involves a number of different components. Roughly, these components are a) a sensory perception or more generally an informational component, b) a kind of appraisal, d) physiological changes, c) conscious feelings, d) cognitive and attentional processes, and e) an actiontendency or more generally a motivational component. One central question in the theory of emotion is which, if any, of these components, constitute the emotion.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Studies Volume XX, Number 2, November 1994, pp. 211-218 Symposium A version of this paper was presented at the symposium on A Progress of Sentiments by Annette C. Baier, held at the Pacific Division Meetings of the American Philosophical Association, Los Angeles, March 1994. Response to My Critics ANNETTE C. BAIER I thank my critics for their generous compliments on what they find good about my book, and (...) thank them even more for their criticisms. Both my critics query the role given to reason, in my version of Hume's version of our nature. If David Owen is right, I downplay Hume's scepticism, in Treatise Book I, about what we can expect of what he there calls our reason, and, if Rachel Cohon is right, I downplay Hume's scepticism in Books II and III about the role of reason in our passionate and active lives. Cohon even charges that my Hume is barely distinguishable from Samuel Clarke. Grave charges! In response, I want first to concede that in A Progress of Sentiments I should have given more space to the section "Of scepticism with regard to reason" than I did, and that, even though I did not purport to more than touch on Hume's attitude to other philosophers, I should have more explicitly acknowledged the background role of Clarke as Hume's target, throughout the Treatise, and given more emphasis to Hume's anti-religious aims, which I mention from time to time, but do not dwell on. I could also have given more prominence to Hume's treatment of liberty and necessity, and have said a bit more about Hume's section, "Morality not based on reason." As Rachel Cohon says, I dismiss what, for some, is the distinctively Humean claim that morals excite passions and produce or prevent actions as largely an ad hominem move against rationalists who expect their pronouncements about eternal fitnesses, or divine commands, to produce or prevent actions, possibly by exciting fear of divine punishment. The Humean moral sentiment, I claimed, is not an Annette C. Baier is at the Department of Philosophy, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh PA 15260 USA. 212 Annette C. Baier especially motivating passion, although it does normally produce good will towards those whose character traits it approves, and some dislike of those whose character traits are disapproved. So it may excite some self-dislike, when it is our own character that we find distasteful, or produce some pride, if we pass muster. Hume writes: "There may perhaps, be some, who being accustom 'd to the style of the schools and pulpit, and having never consider'd human nature in any other light than that in which they place it, may here be surpriz'd to hear me talk of virtue as exciting pride, which they look on as a vice..." (T 297). So Humean morals does often excite passions. But pride and humility, Hume claims, are "compleat in themselves," not "attended with any desire" (T 367), so are not directly motivating passions. And even the love and hatred that are felt towards fellow persons for their virtues and vices may, as motivating influences on the will, have to compete with other loves, such as esteem for the rich and powerful. Hume is a realistic and often rather cynical moralist, and has no easy story about how the moral sentiment can produce the virtues of which it approves. Still, there is some active power in the moral sentiment. It is an impression, namely a sentiment or "peculiar pleasure," not an idea, and so not a belief. In my book I first contrasted Humean sentiments with beliefs in Chapter 1, discussing the conclusion of Book I, and then continued to discuss passions in Chapter 2, on association. There it is said plainly enough that, for Hume, it is pleasure and pain on which most of our passions are founded. (He exempts some instinctive desires.) His own decision to continue with his philosophical journey, after the near shipwreck of Part 4 of Book I, is based, he claims, on the fact that he would be the loser in point of pleasure if he inhibited his philosophical impulses. But... (shrink)

In this book the author intends to present a careful analysis of the Stoic teaching on human action and to apply it to the moral doctrine of mainly Zeno and Chrysippus. The work is divided into two parts: the first deals with the structure of human action, whereas the second applies the result of the performed analysis to the moral theory, especially to the teaching on passions and the ethical evolution of an individual from a pre-moral to (...) a moral stage. In the first chapter the author draws the attention to the Aristotelian background of the Stoic theory: the notion of phantasia, being the faculty which provides images of sensible reality and interprets them, plays an important part in both doctrines. In his analysis of action Aristotle uses logical and linguistic concepts and the Stoics proceed in the same way. According to Zeno, the founder of the Stoic school, human soul comprises eight parts, one of them being the hegemonikon or the mind. Within the mind four powers are distinguished: presentation, assent, impulse and reason; they are enduring and stable entities and they govern the activities corresponding to them. So they exist even when they are not being exercised, they are dispositions of the pneuma of the mind. In spite of their determinism the Stoics were anxious to preserve man's responsibility: therefore they stressed particularly the importance of assent, which causes impulse, whereas impulse produces action. Assent is an internal factor: man is a responsible being because his actions are the result of a personal assent. In this respect man differs from mere animals, which are unable to produce such an act; as a matter of fact assent is not given to a presentation as such, but to the meaning or content of a presentation. Since mere animals are unable to form lekta, they do not have the capacity of performing an act of assent. However mere animals may have something similar, which is called yielding. According to the Stoics no human action is performed without an act of assent, even when the agent is not aware of it: in these cases the assent is implicitly present in the action. This factor does not coincide with the Aristotelian bouleusis: within the Stoic theory of action there is no room for deliberation. The assent is the internal cause of an impulse, which is directed at a predicate, related to an imperative: in this way impulse is the immediate cause of action. (shrink)

A survey of theories on the passions and action in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Britain and western Europe reveals that few, if any, of the major writers held the view that reason in any of its functions executes action without a passion. Even rationalists, like Cambridge Platonist Ralph Cudworth and English clergyman Samuel Clarke, recognized the necessity of passion to action. On the other hand, many of these intellectuals also agreed with French philosophers Jean-François Senault, René Descartes, (...) and Nicolas Malebranche that, for passions to be useful or to become virtues, they must be governed by reason. Without the moderation of reason, passions will be unruly, distort our notions of good, and disrupt our rational volitions. In response to these popular early modern perspectives, Enlightenment thinker David Hume offered a now-famous argument that reason without passion cannot motivate, drawing the further conclusion that reason cannot govern the passions, either. Given that no one in Hume’s era seemed to defend the claim that reason alone can motivate action, what was Hume’s intention? (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Aristotle on Thought and Feeling by Paula GottliebCorinne GartnerPaula Gottlieb. Aristotle on Thought and Feeling. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021. Pp. 173. Hardback, $99.99.Paula Gottlieb's recent book is an illuminating, synoptic study of Aristotle's theory of human motivation, according to which his innovative notion of prohairesis (choice)—specifically, the virtuous agent's prohairesis—is the cornerstone. She argues against both Kantian-flavored readings, which prioritize reason's role in motivating ethical action, (...) and Humean-flavored readings, which emphasize the virtuous agent's well-habituated feelings. Gottlieb's account explains how the virtuous agent's prohairesis incorporates his or her feelings, desires, and thoughts, building in the motivational contributions of both the rational and nonrational parts of the psyche. The resulting treatment does justice to Aristotle's prima facie incongruous characterizations of prohairesis: on the one hand, it is the conclusion of deliberation, an explicitly rational process; on the other, it is an expression of character virtue.Although prohairesis is the unifying focus of the book, Gottlieb's project touches on a number of related controversies concerning Aristotle's ethics, including the process of moral habituation, the thorny phenomenon of akrasia, the relationship between contemplation and practically virtuous activity, and how to conceive of the connection between the aesthetic and ethical sides of to kalon (the fine). And it does so in a way that is attuned to ongoing scholarly debates without getting bogged down in them. Similarly, while she primarily concerns herself with the Nicomachean Ethics, Gottlieb helpfully draws upon material from other parts of the corpus—for example, she invokes, with appropriate caveats, Aristotle's discussion of feelings in the Rhetoric as well as De Anima. Lastly, some interesting subsidiary motifs animate the book, perhaps the most novel and provocative of which is the through line that connects her insightful understanding of eleos—which she translates, with helpful qualifications, as "sympathy" rather than "pity" (31)—with learning to be virtuous, as her fresh reading of Aristotle's Neoptolemus case exemplifies (98–102, 134–35). According to Gottlieb's hybridized picture of the good person's motivation, in the rational part of the soul the agent's wish is channeled via deliberation, which itself involves situation-specific information from the feelings, into the agent's prohairesis. In the nonrational part of the soul, the agent experiences a feeling that, strictly speaking, includes (a) a physiological component; (b) an impression of the circumstances, itself partly shaped by the agent's thought; and (c) a specific desire (chapter 2). The virtuous agent's nonrational desire will always correspond to—indeed, it, too, is channeled into—his or her prohairesis (79), the unified desiderative thought or thoughtful desire (NE VI.2, 1139b4–5), from which he or she then acts (chapter 4). The virtuous agent never experiences even mild psychic conflict, having a fully integrated soul whose two parts are in perfect harmony.At some points of Gottlieb's discussion, it seems as if all of these psychic components involved in the production of an action actually constitute the agent's prohairesis, while in other places it seems as though prohairesis is the discrete desiderative product. If one adopts the former conception, it is difficult to make sense of Aristotle's claim that the choice of the akratic agent, who acts on his or her errant nonrational desire, is correct. It turns out that the akratic agent's choice is correct because he or she has rightly judged what he or she should do, but it is distinct in composition from the good person's choice, since it does not [End Page 703] include his or her nonrational desire. One consequence of Gottlieb's view is thus that, as she indicates, the good person's prohairesis is sui generis. Another consequence is that, within the nonrational part of the soul, there may be physiological responses plus accompanying impressions (phantasiai) that, it seems, contain "motivational oomph" (40) but do not get channeled into desires. While her view avoids conflating the virtuous agent and the enkratic agent (who, despite acting correctly, experiences an occurrent nonrational desire to the contrary), there may be cases in which the virtuous... (shrink)

Passages in Aristotle’s Politics Book 3 are cited in discussions of the “rule of law”, most particularly sections in 1287a where the famous characterization of law as “mind without desire” occurs and in 1286a where Aristotle raises and explores the question whether it is better to be ruled by the best man or the best laws. My paper aims, by exegetically culling out Aristotle’s position in the Politics, Nicomachean Ethics and Rhetoric, to argue that his view on the rule of (...) law and its relations to human subjects is considerably more complex and considerably more interesting. Despite Aristotle’s dictum, laws are not expressions or institutions of a pure and passionless rationality, and in order to be framed, understood and administered well, one must both have the sort of solid understanding of virtues, vices, passions, and motives of human action that Aristotle’s moral philosophy provides and have developed, at least to some degree, certain virtues. My paper focuses particularly on three themes: the role of the passions and desires in judgment, action, virtues and vices; the inescapability of passions and desires in the functioning of law; the possibility for rule of law and a certain level of virtue to be mutually supporting. (shrink)

Exploring Topics in Non/human Coexistence serves as a unifying platform for individuals from diverse backgrounds who share a common goal of achieving total liberation and fostering coexistence between humans and nonhumans beyond the confines of our shared planet. The chapters delve into a wide range of subjects, including critical analyses of human/nonhuman interactions, strategies for enhancing liberation efforts, and the significance of drawing inspiration from nonhuman entities. Several chapters within this book push the field towards innovative pathways by proposing solutions (...) to detrimental practices and organizational frameworks. Moreover, they underscore the interconnectedness of animal advocacy with other social justice movements, thereby fostering collaboration among advocates of various liberation causes. Veganism, in its broadest sense, emerges as a recurring motif that threads together the diverse themes explored in this book, facilitating a cohesive approach towards anti-oppressive endeavors. To amplify the voices of marginalized communities, the editors have strategically positioned chapters authored by individuals of color and other underrepresented groups at the forefront of this book, granting them prominent roles in sections such as the foreword, preface, and afterword. This arrangement challenges content creators to redefine their understanding of 'meaningful' content creation, urging them to prioritize original insights, emotionally resonant narratives, and incisive critiques over recycled ideas that may saturate discourse and stifle diverse perspectives. Readers are encouraged to actively engage in alleviating nonhuman suffering while respecting the autonomy of nonhuman entities to flourish, equipping themselves with the skills necessary to discern between the two. This call to action underscores the imperative of fostering empathy and understanding in our interactions with the nonhuman world, paving the way for a more compassionate and inclusive future. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology 12.1 (2005) 55-57 [Access article in PDF] Unconscious Reasons Eric Matthews Keywords reason-explanation, consciousness, purpose It is argued that Church's puzzlement over the idea that we can have reasons that we do not know about is itself puzzling. In daily life, we find no difficulty in understanding this idea. The problems arise only when we try to give a theoretically satisfactory account of the notion (...) of "the unconscious" in the context of a Cartesian picture of the "mind" as synonymous with "consciousness." We need to see the difference between the rational/non-rational distinction and that between the conscious and the unconscious. We (and other animals) act for reasons, not because we have something called "consciousness," but because we have purposes: we are animals, not machines.Jennifer Church finds "something deeply puzzling" about the idea that we can have reasons that we do not know about. I find this puzzlement very surprising, as, I think, would many others. Most of our reasons for doing what we do are not, and could not be, consciously entertained, and we did not need to wait for Freud before we were aware that some of our reasons for acting are so deeply hidden that we need help from others to uncover them. Freud himself is supposed to have said about the unconscious (I'm afraid I can't give the reference for this quotation, which was dredged up from memory), "Das haben die Dichter immer gekannt"—that was always known by the poets.Because human beings are not machines, whose movements can be given a complete causal explanation in terms of the laws of physics, a reason-explanation for most of the ways they behave is called for. That is, they have reasons for doing what they do. If they had to "consciously think through," in Church's words, all of their reasons for acting, they would never get down to doing anything: before they did anything, they would have to think through their reasons for doing it; and, because thinking through is also an action for which they have reasons, they would have to think through their reasons for thinking through, and so on ad infinitum. I owe this point to Gilbert Ryle, and may as well give one of his typical examples (slightly adapted) to illustrate it. The good tennis player acts intelligently: she has reasons for the movements she makes, but of necessity she does not think through these reasons, otherwise the game of tennis would never get started, let alone finished. Indeed, she may well be unable to explain in words, even afterward, why she moves her racket this way or that.As for the "Freudian" sorts of examples, we are all familiar, both from literature and from life, with the phenomena of self-deception, or of simple lack of self-knowledge. Someone, for instance, believes himself to be motivated by the highest moral principle when he gives money to the beggar in the shop doorway: but perhaps his real reason is a desire to cultivate a certain image of himself, or to be seen by others to be doing the right thing, or a fear that the beggar might embarrass [End Page 55] him in some way if he does not give him something substantial. I am not suggesting that people always deceive themselves in this way, only that the situation described is perfectly intelligible to everyone and so not at all puzzling. Nor is it in the slightest degree unintelligible that people should sometimes act without being able to say why: "I did it on impulse," they say, or "I acted instinctively"—which is just another way of saying "I just don't know why I acted as I did."Church herself accepts that our explanations of behavior are "now replete with appeals to unconscious beliefs and desires": but why only "now"—haven't they always been? And if we resort to such appeals so commonly, if indeed, as Searle says, their explanatory power is so great, then that seems to imply that we understand perfectly well what... (shrink)