I SHALL develop, in this article, certain distinctions suggested by recent contributions to the philosophical discussion of punishment, which help to clarify the issues involved. Having separated out what I consider the four central philosophical questions, I shall suggest an approach to them, which, while mainly utilitarian, takes due account, I believe, of the retributivist case where it is strongest, and meets the main retributivist objections.

ABSTRACT This paper is about the problem of the moral responsibility resting on any person to form rational beliefs about, and moral attitudes towards, the deterrent threat of mutual assured destruction (MAD), which still lies behind the graduated nuclear response strategies now more fashionably discussed by military experts. The problem is to decide what kinds of reasons there are, and how to arrive in the light of them at determinate conclusions about deterrence and unilateral disarmament. Consequential arguments would be powerful, (...) if only they were determinate; but not only do they not point conclusively to one strategy rather than another, there is not even sufficient reason for accepting one rather than another of the competing optimising criteria by which the strategies might be assessed. So the reasons of other kinds against forming a conditional intention to retaliate with a massive second strike could be conclusive, if retaliation itself could do no (consequential) good, and if, as is claimed, the conditional intention could not be simulated. To form such an intention is held to be contrary to core values of a humane, rationalist culture. To assent to a nuclear retaliatory strike would do violence to the moral nature of anyone participating in such a culture, and to form an intention to make (or condone) such a strike would be a corruption of such a nature. So too would condoning the fostering of such an intention in others, as a way of making the retaliatory intention credible. The author accordingly considers this argument against MAD, and for unilateral nuclear disarmament, sufficient, given the inadequacy of the consequential arguments, while acknowledging that this might involve great sacrifice. The paper concludes, however, by considering whether anyone can reject nuclear deterrence who also believes that resistance to Nazism in 1939 was justified, given the then prevailing belief that the war might be massively destructive. The author holds that there is no inconsistency in both supporting resistance to evil, even at risk of total destruction, and in refusing to form or condone a conditional intention to do equivalent but pointless evil in order to make a threat credible. (shrink)

S. I. Benn; VI*—Freedom, Autonomy and the Concept of a Person, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 76, Issue 1, 1 June 1976, Pages 109–130, https://.

This book is a major contribution to the study of the philosophy of action, moral philosophy, and political philosophy. Its central idea is a radically unorthodox theory of rational action. Most contemporary Anglo-American philosophers believe that action is motivated by desire. Professor Benn rejects the doctrine and replaces it with a reformulation of Kant's ethical and political theory, in which rational action can be determined simply by principles, regardless of consequences. The book analyzes the way in which value conflicts (...) can be rationally resolved, the objectivity of value, the concept of moral personality, the principles of non-interference and respect of persons, the ideals of autonomy and community and various aspects of individual rights - focusing on the rights to freedom, welfare, and privacy. (shrink)

This article offers a qualified defence of the view that there is a moral difference between telling lies to one's patients, and deceiving them without lying. However, I take issue with certain arguments offered by Jennifer Jackson in support of the same conclusion. In particular, I challenge her claim that to deny that there is such a moral difference makes sense only within a utilitarian framework, and I cast doubt on the aptness of some of her examples of non-lying deception. (...) But I argue that lies have a greater tendency to damage trust than does non-lying deception, and suggest that since many doctors do believe there is a moral boundary between the two types of deception, encouraging them to violate that boundary may have adverse general effects on their moral sensibilities. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology 10.2 (2003) 189-192 [Access article in PDF] The Responsibility of the Psychopathic Offender:Commentary on Ciocchetti Piers Benn Christopher Ciocchetti has valuable things to say in his article. He takes as his starting point some common ground between his views and my own, especially about the importance of Strawsonian participant reactive attitudes to our understanding of psychopathy. But he proceeds to claim that the distinguishing (...) feature of psychopaths is not their lack of such attitudes but their inability to understand how relationships are affected by their behavior—and indeed their inability, in some sense, to understand interpersonal relationships at all. He also takes me to task for claiming that the participant reactive attitudes (PRAs)—presumably he includes things like resentment, indignation, gratitude, and so on—are essentially communicative. For him, this is too strong a claim, because we can imagine cases when such attitudes are expressed, but without any communicative purpose.On the latter point, I concede that people often do express PRAs even though they know such expression will have no effect on those whose behavior or attitudes gave rise to them. Different things can explain this lack of effect. For example, imagine a normally responsive person who obstinately fails to see that a certain judgment applies to him or her in a particular case. Take a woman who repeatedly expresses frustration and anger toward her husband for failing to do any domestic chores, but without having the slightest effect on him. Eventually her expressions of anger serve more as an emotional release than as an attempt to get him to change. As in Ciocchetti's example of Mary's reaction to her calls not being returned, she gives up in the end, expressing anger but without any hope of getting through to the other person.But there is another possible explanation for her anger: suppose the husband's failure to contribute to the housework does not arise from his inability to respond to moral claims upon him, but because he thinks he is already doing his duty by being the sole wage earner, and is quite intransigent about this. In that case, the woman might still see him, in general, as a proper object of her PRAs. She sees his fault as local rather than general; a failure, or perhaps even an inability, to think properly about this particular issue rather than about moral demands in general. She might regard her angry outbursts as justified, not because they will have any effect on him now, [End Page 189] but because they are a proper participant response to some earlier failure, which he was then able to do something about—maybe he neglected to think properly about fairness when forming his moral outlook.Compare this case, though, with someone who just does not understand the nature of relationships and the obligations they impose. This is the sort of case Ciocchetti has in mind. Anger is, on his account, understandable, not because it is meant to communicate anything, but because it is "an expression with no further aim at all" (2003, p. 178). On this point, I agree that people sometimes do express anger (or other emotions) without trying to induce a response in someone. At the same time, there is a significant difference between times when we do hope to elicit an appropriate participant response like shame, and times when we do not. When we express such attitudes without any hope of a participant response, we miss something that is, if not essential to, at least typical of such expressions. Getting angry with the neighbor's aggressive dog or scrounging cat is understandable, but it is simply not the same kind of thing as getting angry with a normal, rational adult. The typical case, maybe the necessarily typical case, is when we experience or express such emotions toward, or at least concerning, beings capable of PRAs—and, again typically if not always, such beings are capable of understanding when and why the PRAs of others are directed toward them.But the thrust of Ciocchetti's paper lies not... (shrink)

There has been some debate as to whether or not it is possible to keep a promise, and thus fulfil a duty, to supererogate. In this paper, I argue, in agreement with Jason Kawall, that such promises cannot be kept. However, I disagree with Kawall’s diagnosis of the problem and provide an alternative account. In the first section, I examine the debate between Kawall and David Heyd, who rejects Kawall’s claim that promises to supererogate cannot be kept. I disagree with (...) Heyd’s argument, as it fails to get to the heart of the problem Kawall articulates. Kawall’s argument however fails to make clear the problem with promising to supererogate because his discussion relies on the plausibility of the following claim: that supererogatory actions cannot also fulfil obligations. I argue that this view is mistaken because there are clear examples of supererogatory actions that also fulfil obligations. In the final section, I give my alternative account of the problem, identifying exactly what is wrong with fulfilling a duty, and thus keeping a promise, to supererogate. My diagnosis emphasises the importance of identifying non-supererogatory actions when it comes to understanding the way in which supererogatory actions go above and beyond the call of duty. (shrink)

Amy saves a man from drowning despite the risk to herself, because she is moved by his plight. This is a quintessentially supererogatory act: an act that goes above and beyond the call of duty. Beth, on the other hand, saves a man from drowning because she wants to get her name in the paper. On this second example, opinions differ. One view of supererogation holds that, despite being optional and good, Beth’s act is not supererogatory because she is not (...) praiseworthy; the other agrees that Beth is not praiseworthy but holds that her act is nevertheless supererogatory because, while supererogatory actions are generally performed by praiseworthy agents, an individual need not be praiseworthy for their act to be supererogatory. In this paper, I raise a problem for this latter position, which I shall call the Anti-Motivation View of supererogation. While the Anti-Motivation View rejects the claim that the agent’s motivations are important, it accepts that the agent’s intentions are. Thus, this view assumes that a clear, coherent distinction can be drawn between intentions and motivations in the context of supererogation. This distinction is often attributed to Mill; however, his original discussion reveals an inconsistency. Consider Clara, who saves a man from drowning because she wants to torture him later. According to Mill, Clara’s act is not morally good; those who follow Mill will have to accept that it is therefore not supererogatory. Mill asserts that Clara’s act differs from Amy’s and Beth’s not just in motivation but also in intention. I question this explanation and demonstrate that the distinction between motivation and intention is not as clear as the Anti-Motivation View has supposed and that the gap between the Anti-Motivation View and the alternative Praise-Based View is either much greater or much smaller than previously thought. (shrink)

The question of why Nietzsche writes as he does defines his philosophy—much more so than for almost any other thinker. Let me begin with the following claim: Nietzsche does not primarily write books. Rather, he edits them from a huge reservoir of different kinds of notebooks. In the process, the “I” that is the subject of the “writing” becomes increasingly unstable. This is of course an intended philosophical effect. Take the case of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which Nietzsche considered to be (...) his most important and long-lasting book. Most philosophers, when they engage with it at all, still take it more or less at face value. Zarathustra’s speeches are quoted as if they were enunciations of Nietzsche himself... (shrink)

Supererogatory actions must go beyond duty not only by being optional, but also by being good to do. Understanding the evaluative condition that supererogatory actions must meet is vital in order to understand the very concept of supererogation. I argue for two key features of the goodness of supererogatory actions: firstly, that they are comparative, and secondly, that they are relative. Specifically, I argue that an action meets the evaluative condition of supererogation if and only if it is (i) better (...) than some permissible alternative and (ii) better than (or at least as good as) all permissible alternatives that are (a) as costly or (b) less costly; where the sense in which it is better is relative to a particular beneficiary. Seeing why this is so reveals the complexity of our notion of the supererogatory and captures our intuitions on core and complex cases. Furthermore, it makes room for supererogation’s mirror: the suberogatory. (shrink)

It has often been thought that there is a special difficulty involved in conceiving of one’s own death. It is easy to think that, while one can easily conceive of, and acknowledge, the death of another person, one cannot ever conceive of what it is for oneself to die. Various things have been inferred from this. The most extreme inference is that one’s own death, or, to be more precise, one’s own non-existence, is actually impossible, since what is inconceivable is (...) impossible. One might also try to infer that one’s existence had no beginning either, although this view is less popular. But even if one does not embrace such extravagant conclusions, conceiving of one’s own ceasing-to-be can easily seem to present a great difficulty. Some existentialist writers and theologians influenced by existentialism have made great play of the supposed mystery. Paul Edwards writes of the temptation to think of death as “existence in a dark, impenetrable abode,” as if non-existence, or the absence of experience, were in fact a peculiar kind of experience which presents us with a great mystery. On this view, even when we conceive of the death of others, we cannot grasp the essential mystery. As Heidegger puts it: “And even if, by thus Being there alongside, it were possible and feasible for us to make plain to ourselves ‘psychologically’ the dying of Others, this would by no means let us grasp the way-to-be which we would then have in mind—namely, coming-to-an-end. We are asking about the ontological meaning of the dying of the person who dies, as a possibility-of-Being which belongs to his Being. We are not asking about the way in which the deceased has Dasein-with or is still-a-Dasein with those who are left behind.” One might make a similar point as follows: I cannot observe my own passing from the world, and observe the world’s continued existence. Once I cease to exist, then “my world” finishes. Wittgenstein writes in the Tractatus: “The world is my world”—and while there is a way in which this is obviously false, it captures much of the intuition under discussion. (shrink)

In considering the debate about the meaning of ‘disease’, the positions are generally presented as falling into two categories: naturalist, e.g., Boorse, and normativist, e.g., Engelhardt and many others. This division is too coarse, and obscures much of what is going on in this debate. I therefore propose that accounts of the meaning of ‘disease’ be assessed according to Hare's (1997) taxonomy of evaluative terms. Such an analysis will allow us to better understand both individual positions and their interrelationships. Most (...) importantly, it will show that it is unlikely that there is a single unique disease-concept at issue. Rather, different authors are, for the most part, considering different concepts. (shrink)

The approach used by physics is based on the identification and study of ideal objects, which is also the basis of biophysics, in combination with von Neumann heuristic modeling and functional fractionation according to R.Rosen is discussed as a tool for studying the properties of consciousness. The object of the study is a kind of line of analog systems: the human brain, the vertebrate brain, the invertebrate brain and artificial neural networks capable of reflection, which is a key property characteristic (...) of consciousness. Reflection in the broad sense of the word, understood as an internal representation of the external world, is characteristic of a wide range of animals, and some of them (bumblebees, fish) even demonstrate reflection in the narrow sense of the word, understood as an inner self-representation. This complex behavior is realized by miniature brains of ~1 million neurons. The use of simple recurrent neural networks (RNNs) to obtain answers to general questions is illustrated. For example, it has been shown a small RNS is able to pass delayed matching to sample (DMTS) test, forming an individual dynamic representation of the received stimulus, allowing decoding by a special external neural detector.. It has been demonstrated in the reflexive game “even-odd”, the RNS has a huge advantage over a multi-layered neural network, with the same and a larger number of neurons – reflection defeats regression. It was found that the asymmetry of outcomes in the odd-even game, which was explained by various causes, including psychological ones – “it’s easier to catch up than to run away”, is reproduced in the game of two RNNs. Obviously, there are no psychological causes here and the advantage of the player playing for “even” is explained by the more complex strategy of the “odd” player – he needs to predict the opponent’s move and choose the opposite one. (shrink)