# data[].attributes.headline
7.1 Is Technology as “Neutral” as We Think It Is?

# data[].attributes.subject
7.1 Is Technology as “Neutral” as We Think It Is?

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses the illustrative example of online search engines to consider whether the technologies we use in our everyday lives really are the “value-neutral” tools we often take them to be. Should ethical concerns and other values be given a role in determining which results a search engine “chooses” to show us? If so, which values, how much of a role, and–perhaps most importantly–who decides?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
PHILOSOPHY - EMERGING TECHNOLOGIES 1: Is Technology as “Neutral” as We Think It Is?

# data[].attributes.headline
4.1 How Ethics Can Help You Make Better Decisions

# data[].attributes.subject
4.1 How Ethics Can Help You Make Better Decisions

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses how studying ethics will help us better confront life's moral dilemmas, and how understanding ethical theories can help us make better, kinder decisions.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How Ethics Can Help You Make Better Decisions | Michael Schur | TED

# data[].attributes.body
In this section, you will find N sections with curated resources on Philosophy:

1. What is Philosophy?

2. How to Think and Write Like a Philosopher

3. Epistemology (Knowledge, Belief, Justification)

4. Ethics and Morality

5. Political Philosophy

6. Philosophy of Science

7. Philosophy of Technology, Computing, and AI

8. Philosophy of Religion

9. Early Modern Philosophy

10. Classical Chinese Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
Introduces the origins and questions of interest of philosophy. Explains logic as a tool to do philosophy.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What is Philosophy?: Crash Course Philosophy #1

# data[].attributes.body
Discusses the nature of philosophy as a academical, philosophical, and rigourous question by critically assessing the views of different historical figures in philosophy, and building a constructive account from there.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Graham Priest, What Is Philosophy?, Philosophy, Vol. 81, No. 316 (Apr., 2006), pp. 189-207

# data[].attributes.body
Introduces the discipline of philosoph, the big questions that define the discipline, common misunderstandings, and its relevance in the modern world.

# data[].attributes.headline
1.4 Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
1.4 Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
This book introduces important themes in the study of philosophy, how they are related to each other, and explores how philosophy was practiced in the past and how it is done today.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
1.5 The Cartoon Introduction to Philosophy

# data[].attributes.subject
1.5 The Cartoon Introduction to Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
This comic explores various themes in philosophy in a fun and exciting way, covering some of the great debates in history, from questions about the world to questions about how we can ever know for sure what we know, to issues about whether we truly have free will.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
2.1 This tool will help improve your critical thinking

# data[].attributes.subject
2.1 This tool will help improve your critical thinking

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores the Socratic Method, a questioning method that helps us to effective examine our values, principles, and beliefs.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
This tool will help improve your critical thinking - Erick Wilberding

# data[].attributes.headline
2.2 Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking

# data[].attributes.subject
2.2 Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking

# data[].attributes.body
Daniel Dennett discusses a variety of philosophical tools that learners can use to "think reliably and even gracefully about really hard questions."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking | Daniel Dennett | Talks at Google

# data[].attributes.headline
2.3 What Happens in a Philosopher's Brain?

# data[].attributes.subject
2.3 What Happens in a Philosopher's Brain?

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores the book "Thinking, Fast and Slow" by Daniel Kahnemann to better understand how certain cognitive biases can affect our ability to think rationally.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What Happens in a Philosopher's Brain? | Philosophy Tube

# data[].attributes.headline
2.4 A Brief Guide to Writing the Philosophy Paper

# data[].attributes.subject
2.4 A Brief Guide to Writing the Philosophy Paper

# data[].attributes.body
This guide teaches how to structure philosophy essays, with examples on good writing and bad writing.

# data[].attributes.headline
2.5 Guidelines on Writing a Philosophy Paper

# data[].attributes.subject
2.5 Guidelines on Writing a Philosophy Paper

# data[].attributes.body
Introduces three stages of writing a philosophical paper and what to do in each stage.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
guidelines on grammar, below).
Contents

What Does One Do in a Philosophy Paper?

1. A philosophy paper consists of the reasoned defense of some claim
Your paper must offer an argument. It can't consist in the mere report of your opinions, nor in a mere report of the opinions of the philosophers we discuss. You have to defend the claims you make. You have to offer reasons to believe them.

So you can't just say:

My view is that P.
You must say something like:
My view is that P. I believe this because...
or:
I find that the following considerations...provide a convincing argument for P.
Similarly, don't just say:
Descartes says that Q.
Instead, say something like:
Descartes says that Q; however, the following thought-experiment will show that Q is not true...
or:
Descartes says that Q. I find this claim plausible, for the following reasons...
There are a variety of things a philosophy paper can aim to accomplish. It usually begins by putting some thesis or argument on the table for consideration. Then it goes on to do one or two of the following:

Criticize that argument; or show that certain arguments for the thesis are no good

Defend the argument or thesis against someone else's criticism

Offer reasons to believe the thesis

Offer counter-examples to the thesis

Contrast the strengths and weaknesses of two opposing views about the thesis

Give examples which help explain the thesis, or which help to make the thesis more plausible

Argue that certain philosophers are committed to the thesis by their other views, though they do not come out and explicitly endorse the thesis

Discuss what consequences the thesis would have, if it were true

Revise the thesis, in the light of some objection

No matter which of these aims you set for yourself, you have to explicitly present reasons for the claims you make. Students often feel that since it's clear to them that some claim is true, it does not need much argument. But it's very easy to overestimate the strength of your own position. After all, you already accept it. You should assume that your audience does not already accept your position; and you should treat your paper as an attempt to persuade such an audience. Hence, don't start with assumptions which your opponents are sure to reject. If you're to have any chance of persuading people, you have to start from common assumptions you all agree to.

2. A good philosophy paper is modest and makes a small point; but it makes that point clearly and straightforwardly, and it offers good reasons in support of it
People very often attempt to accomplish too much in a philosophy paper. The usual result of this is a paper that's hard to read, and which is full of inadequately defended and poorly explained claims. So don't be over-ambitious. Don't try to establish any earth-shattering conclusions in your 5-6 page paper. Done properly, philosophy moves at a slow pace.

3. Originality
The aim of these papers is for you to show that you understand the material and that you're able to think critically about it. To do this, your paper does have to show some independent thinking.

That doesn't mean you have to come up with your own theory, or that you have to make a completely original contribution to human thought. There will be plenty of time for that later on. An ideal paper will be clear and straightforward (see below), will be accurate when it attributes views to other philosophers (see below), and will contain thoughtful critical responses to the texts we read. It need not always break completely new ground.

But you should try to come up with your own arguments, or your own way of elaborating or criticizing or defending some argument we looked at in class. Merely summarizing what others have said won't be enough.

Three Stages of Writing

1. Early Stages
The early stages of writing a philosophy paper include everything you do before you sit down and write your first draft. These early stages will involve writing, but you won't yet be trying to write a complete paper. You should instead be taking notes on the readings, sketching out your ideas, trying to explain the main argument you want to advance, and composing an outline.
Discuss the issues with others
As I said above, your papers are supposed to demonstrate that you understand and can think critically about the material we discuss in class. One of the best ways to check how well you understand that material is to try to explain it to someone who isn't already familiar with it. I've discovered time and again while teaching philosophy that I couldn't really explain properly some article or argument I thought I understood. This was because it was really more problematic or complicated than I had realized. You will have this same experience. So it's good to discuss the issues we raise in class with each other, and with friends who aren't taking the class. This will help you understand the issues better, and it will make you recognize what things you still don't fully understand.
It's even more valuable to talk to each other about what you want to argue in your paper. When you have your ideas worked out well enough that you can explain them to someone else, verbally, then you're ready to sit down and start making an outline.

Make an outline
Before you begin writing any drafts, you need to think about the questions: In what order should you explain the various terms and positions you'll be discussing? At what point should you present your opponent's position or argument? In what order should you offer your criticisms of your opponent? Do any of the points you're making presuppose that you've already discussed some other point, first? And so on.
The overall clarity of your paper will greatly depend on its structure. That is why it is important to think about these questions before you begin to write.

I strongly recommend that you make an outline of your paper, and of the arguments you'll be presenting, before you begin to write. This lets you organize the points you want to make in your paper and get a sense for how they are going to fit together. It also helps ensure that you're in a position to say what your main argument or criticism is, before you sit down to write a full draft of your paper. When students get stuck writing, it's often because they haven't yet figured out what they're trying to say.

Give your outline your full attention. It should be fairly detailed. (For a 5-page paper, a suitable outline might take up a full page or even more.)

I find that making an outline is at least 80% of the work of writing a good philosophy paper. If you have a good outline, the rest of the writing process will go much more smoothly.

Start Work Early
Philosophical problems and philosophical writing require careful and extended reflection. Don't wait until two or three nights before the paper is due to begin. That is very stupid. Writing a good philosophy paper takes a great deal of preparation.
You need to leave yourself enough time to think about the topic and write a detailed outline. Only then should you sit down to write a complete draft. Once you have a complete draft, you should set it aside for a day or two. Then you should come back to it and rewrite it. Several times. At least 3 or 4. If you can, show it to your friends and get their reactions to it. Do they understand your main point? Are parts of your draft unclear or confusing to them?

All of this takes time. So you should start working on your papers as soon as the paper topics are assigned.

2. Write a Draft
Once you've thought about your argument, and written an outline for your paper, then you're ready to sit down and compose a complete draft.
Use simple prose
Don't shoot for literary elegance. Use simple, straightforward prose. Keep your sentences and paragraphs short. Use familiar words. We'll make fun of you if you use big words where simple words will do. These issues are deep and difficult enough without your having to muddy them up with pretentious or verbose language. Don't write using prose you wouldn't use in conversation: if you wouldn't say it, don't write it.
You may think that since your TA and I already know a lot about this subject, you can leave out a lot of basic explanation and write in a super-sophisticated manner, like one expert talking to another. I guarantee you that this will make your paper incomprehensible.

If your paper sounds as if it were written for a third-grade audience, then you've probably achieved the right sort of clarity.

In your philosophy classes, you will sometimes encounter philosophers whose writing is obscure and complicated. Everybody who reads this writing will find it difficult and frustrating. The authors in question are philosophically important despite their poor writing, not because of it. So do not try to emulate their writing styles.

Make the structure of your paper obvious
You should make the structure of your paper obvious to the reader. Your reader shouldn't have to exert any effort to figure it out. Beat him over the head with it.
How can you do this?

First of all, use connective words, like:

because, since, given this argument

thus, therefore, hence, it follows that, consequently

nevertheless, however, but

in the first case, on the other hand

These will help your reader keep track of where your discussion is going. Be sure you use these words correctly! If you say "P. Thus Q." then you are claiming that P is a good reason to accept Q. You had better be right. If you aren't, we'll complain. Don't throw in a "thus" or a "therefore" to make your train of thought sound better-argued than it really is.

Another way you can help make the structure of your paper obvious is by telling the reader what you've done so far and what you're going to do next. You can say things like:

I will begin by...

Before I say what is wrong with this argument, I want to...

These passages suggest that...

I will now defend this claim...

Further support for this claim comes from...

For example...

These signposts really make a big difference. Consider the following two paper fragments:

...We've just seen how X says that P. I will now present two arguments that not-P. My first argument is...
My second argument that not-P is...
X might respond to my arguments in several ways. For instance, he could say that...
However this response fails, because...
Another way that X might respond to my arguments is by claiming that...
This response also fails, because...
So we have seen that none of X's replies to my argument that not-P succeed. Hence, we should reject X's claim that P.

I will argue for the view that Q.
There are three reasons to believe Q. Firstly...
Secondly...
Thirdly...
The strongest objection to Q says...
However, this objection does not succeed, for the following reason...
Isn't it easy to see what the structure of these papers is? You want it to be just as easy in your own papers.
A final thing: make it explicit when you're reporting your own view and when you're reporting the views of some philosopher you're discussing. The reader should never be in doubt about whose claims you're presenting in a given paragraph.

You can't make the structure of your paper obvious if you don't know what the structure of your paper is, or if your paper has no structure. That's why making an outline is so important.

Be concise, but explain yourself fully
To write a good philosophy paper, you need to be concise but at the same time explain yourself fully.
These demands might seem to pull in opposite directions. (It's as if the first said "Don't talk too much," and the second said "Talk a lot.") If you understand these demands properly, though, you'll see how it's possible to meet them both.

We tell you to be concise because we don't want you to ramble on about everything you know about a given topic, trying to show how learned and intelligent you are. Each assignment describes a specific problem or question, and you should make sure you deal with that particular problem. Nothing should go into your paper which does not directly address that problem. Prune out everything else. It is always better to concentrate on one or two points and develop them in depth than to try to cram in too much. One or two well-mapped paths are better than an impenetrable jungle.
Formulate the central problem or question you wish to address at the beginning of your paper, and keep it in mind at all times. Make it clear what the problem is, and why it is a problem. Be sure that everything you write is relevant to that central problem. In addition, be sure to say in the paper how it is relevant. Don't make your reader guess.

One thing I mean by "explain yourself fully" is that, when you have a good point, you shouldn't just toss it off in one sentence. Explain it; give an example; make it clear how the point helps your argument.
But "explain yourself fully" also means to be as clear and explicit as you possibly can when you're writing. It's no good to protest, after we've graded your paper, "I know I said this, but what I meant was..." Say exactly what you mean, in the first place. Part of what you're being graded on is how well you can do that.

Pretend that your reader has not read the material you're discussing, and has not given the topic much thought in advance. This will of course not be true. But if you write as if it were true, it will force you to explain any technical terms, to illustrate strange or obscure distinctions, and to be as explicit as possible when you summarize what some other philosopher said.

In fact, you can profitably take this one step further and pretend that your reader is lazy, stupid, and mean. He's lazy in that he doesn't want to figure out what your convoluted sentences are supposed to mean, and he doesn't want to figure out what your argument is, if it's not already obvious. He's stupid, so you have to explain everything you say to him in simple, bite-sized pieces. And he's mean, so he's not going to read your paper charitably. (For example, if something you say admits of more than one interpretation, he's going to assume you meant the less plausible thing.) If you understand the material you're writing about, and if you aim your paper at such a reader, you'll probably get an A.

Use plenty of examples and definitions
It is very important to use examples in a philosophy paper. Many of the claims philosophers make are very abstract and hard to understand, and examples are the best way to make those claims clearer.
Examples are also useful for explaining the notions that play a central role in your argument. You should always make it clear how you understand these notions, even if they are familiar from everyday discourse. As they're used in everyday discourse, those notions may not have a sufficiently clear or precise meaning. For instance, suppose you're writing a paper about abortion, and you want to assert the claim "A fetus is a person." What do you mean by "a person"? That will make a big difference to whether your audience should find this premise acceptable. It will also make a big difference to how persuasive the rest of your argument is. By itself, the following argument is pretty worthless:

A fetus is a person.
It's wrong to kill a person.
Therefore, it's wrong to kill a fetus.
For we don't know what the author means by calling a fetus "a person." On some interpretations of "person," it might be quite obvious that a fetus is a person; but quite controversial whether it's always wrong to kill persons, in that sense of "person." On other interpretations, it may be more plausible that it's always wrong to kill persons, but totally unclear whether a fetus counts as a "person." So everything turns here on what the author means by "person." The author should be explicit about how he is using this notion.
In a philosophy paper, it's okay to use words in ways that are somewhat different from the ways they're ordinarily used. You just have to make it clear that you're doing this. For instance, some philosophers use the word "person" to mean any being which is capable of rational thought and self-awareness. Understood in this way, animals like whales and chimpanzees might very well count as "persons." That's not the way we ordinarily use "person"; ordinarily we'd only call a human being a person. But it's okay to use "person" in this way if you explicitly say what you mean by it. And likewise for other words.

Don't vary your vocabulary just for the sake of variety

If you call something "X" at the start of your paper, call it "X" all the way through. So, for instance, don't start talking about "Plato's view of the self," and then switch to talking about "Plato's view of the soul," and then switch to talking about "Plato's view of the mind." If you mean to be talking about the same thing in all three cases, then call it by the same name. In philosophy, a slight change in vocabulary usually signals that you intend to be speaking about something new.

Using words with precise philosophical meanings

Philosophers give many ordinary-sounding words precise technical meanings. Consult the handouts on Philosophical Terms and Methods to make sure you're using these words correctly. Don't use words that you don't fully understand.
Use technical philosophical terms only where you need them. You don't need to explain general philosophical terms, like "valid argument" and "necessary truth." But you should explain any technical terms you use which bear on the specific topic you're discussing. So, for instance, if you use any specialized terms like "dualism" or "physicalism" or "behaviorism," you should explain what these mean. Likewise if you use technical terms like "supervenience" and the like. Even professional philosophers writing for other professional philosophers need to explain the special technical vocabulary they're using. Different people sometimes use this special vocabulary in different ways, so it's important to make sure that you and your readers are all giving these words the same meaning. Pretend that your readers have never heard them before.

Presenting and assessing the views of others
If you plan to discuss the views of Philosopher X, begin by figuring out what his arguments or central assumptions are. See my tips on How To Read a Philosophy Paper for some help doing this.
Then ask yourself: Are X's arguments good ones? Are his assumptions clearly stated? Are they plausible? Are they reasonable starting-points for X's argument, or ought he have provided some independent argument for them?

Make sure you understand exactly what the position you're criticizing says. Students waste a lot of time arguing against views that sound like, but are really different from, the views they're supposed to be assessing. Remember, philosophy demands a high level of precision. It's not good enough for you merely to get the general idea of somebody else's position or argument. You have to get it exactly right. (In this respect, philosophy is more like a science than the other humanities.) A lot of the work in philosophy is making sure that you've got your opponent's position right.

You can assume that your reader is stupid (see above). But don't treat the philosopher or the views you're discussing as stupid. If they were stupid, we wouldn't be looking at them. If you can't see anything the view has going for it, maybe that's because you don't have much experience thinking and arguing about the view, and so you haven't yet fully understood why the view's proponents are attracted to it. Try harder to figure out what's motivating them.

Philosophers sometimes do say outrageous things, but if the view you're attributing to a philosopher seems to be obviously crazy, then you should think hard about whether he really does say what you think he says. Use your imagination. Try to figure out what reasonable position the philosopher could have had in mind, and direct your arguments against that.

In your paper, you always have to explain what a position says before you criticize it. If you don't explain what you take Philosopher X's view to be, your reader cannot judge whether the criticism you offer of X is a good criticism, or whether it is simply based on a misunderstanding or misinterpretation of X's views. So tell the reader what it is you think X is saying.

Don't try to tell the reader everything you know about X's views, though. You have to go on to offer your own philosophical contribution, too. Only summarize those parts of X's views that are directly relevant to what you're going to go on to do.

Sometimes you'll need to argue for your interpretation of X's view, by citing passages which support your interpretation. It is permissible for you to discuss a view you think a philosopher might have held, or should have held, though you can't find any direct evidence of that view in the text. When you do this, though, you should explicitly say so. Say something like:

Philosopher X doesn't explicitly say that P, but it seems to me that he's assuming it anyway, because...

Quotations

When a passage from a text is particularly useful in supporting your interpretation of some philosopher's views, it may be helpful to quote the passage directly. (Be sure to specify where the passage can be found.) However, direct quotations should be used sparingly. It is seldom necessary to quote more than a few sentences. Often it will be more appropriate to paraphrase what X says, rather than to quote him directly. When you are paraphrasing what somebody else said, be sure to say so. (And here too, cite the pages you're referring to.)
Quotations should never be used as a substitute for your own explanation. And when you do quote an author, you still have to explain what the quotation says in your own words. If the quoted passage contains an argument, reconstruct the argument in more explicit, straightforward terms. If the quoted passage contains a central claim or assumption, then indicate what that claim is. You may want to give some examples to illustrate the author's point. If necessary, you may want to distinguish the author's claim from other claims with which it might be confused.

Paraphrases

Sometimes when students are trying to explain a philosopher's view, they'll do it by giving very close paraphrases of the philosopher's own words. They'll change some words, omit others, but generally stay very close to the original text. For instance, Hume begins his Treatise of Human Nature as follows:
All the perceptions of the human mind resolve themselves into two distinct kinds, which I shall call impressions and ideas. The difference betwixt these consists in the degrees of force and liveliness, with which they strike upon the mind, and make their way into our thought or consciousness. Those perceptions, which enter with most force and violence, we may name impressions; and under this name I comprehend all our sensations, passions, and emotions, as they make their first appearance in the soul. By ideas I mean the faint images of these in thinking and reasoning.
Here's an example of how you don't want to paraphrase:
Hume says all perceptions of the mind are resolved into two kinds, impressions and ideas. The difference is in how much force and liveliness they have in our thoughts and consciousness. The perceptions with the most force and violence are impressions. These are sensations, passions, and emotions. Ideas are the faint images of our thinking and reasoning.
There are two main problems with paraphrases of this sort. In the first place, it's done rather mechanically, so it doesn't show that the author understands the text. In the second place, since the author hasn't figured out what the text means well enough to express it in his own words, there's a danger that his paraphrase may inadvertently change the meaning of the text. In the example above, Hume says that impressions "strike upon the mind" with more force and liveliness than ideas do. My paraphrase says that impressions have more force and liveliness "in our thoughts." It's not clear whether these are the same thing. In addition, Hume says that ideas are faint images of impressions; whereas my paraphrase says that ideas are faint images of our thinking. These are not the same. So the author of the paraphrase appears not to have understood what Hume was saying in the original passage.
A much better way of explaining what Hume says here would be the following:

Hume says that there are two kinds of 'perceptions,' or mental states. He calls these impressions and ideas. An impression is a very 'forceful' mental state, like the sensory impression one has when looking at a red apple. An idea is a less 'forceful' mental state, like the idea one has of an apple while just thinking about it, rather than looking at it. It is not so clear what Hume means here by 'forceful.' He might mean...

Anticipate objections
Try to anticipate objections to your view and respond to them. For instance, if you object to some philosopher's view, don't assume he would immediately admit defeat. Imagine what his comeback might be. How would you handle that comeback?
Don't be afraid of mentioning objections to your own thesis. It is better to bring up an objection yourself than to hope your reader won't think of it. Explain how you think these objections can be countered or overcome. Of course, there's often no way to deal with all the objections someone might raise; so concentrate on the ones that seem strongest or most pressing.

What happens if you're stuck?
Your paper doesn't always have to provide a definite solution to a problem, or a straight yes or no answer to a question. Many excellent philosophy papers don't offer straight yes or no answers. Sometimes they argue that the question needs to be clarified, or that certain further questions need to be raised. Sometimes they argue that certain assumptions of the question need to be challenged. Sometimes they argue that certain answers to the question are too easy, that is, they won't work. Hence, if these papers are right, the question will be harder to answer than we might previously have thought. These are all important and philosophically valuable results.
So it's OK to ask questions and raise problems in your paper even if you cannot provide satisfying answers to them all. You can leave some questions unanswered at the end of the paper. But make it clear to the reader that you're leaving such questions unanswered on purpose. And you should say something about how the question might be answered, and about what makes the question interesting and relevant to the issue at hand.

If something in a view you're examining is unclear to you, don't gloss it over. Call attention to the unclarity. Suggest several different ways of understanding the view. Explain why it's not clear which of these interpretations is correct.

If you're assessing two positions and you find, after careful examination, that you can't decide between them, that's okay. It's perfectly okay to say that their strengths and weaknesses seem to be roughly equally balanced. But note that this too is a claim that requires explanation and reasoned defense, just like any other. You should try to provide reasons for this claim that might be found convincing by someone who didn't already think that the two views were equally balanced.

Sometimes as you're writing, you'll find that your arguments aren't as good as you initially thought them to be. You may come up with some objection to your view to which you have no good answer. Don't panic. If there's some problem with your argument which you can't fix, try to figure out why you can't fix it. It's okay to change your thesis to one you can defend. For example, instead of writing a paper which provides a totally solid defense of view P, you can instead change tactics and write a paper which goes like this:

One philosophical view says that P. This is a plausible view, for the following reasons...
However, there are some reasons to be doubtful whether P. One of these reasons is X. X poses a problem for the view that P because...
It is not clear how the defender of P can overcome this objection.
Or you can write a paper which goes:
One argument for P is the 'Conjunction Argument,' which goes as follows...
At first glance, this is a very appealing argument. However, this argument is faulty, for the following reasons...
One might try to repair the argument, by...
But these repairs will not work, because...
I conclude that the Conjunction Argument does not in fact succeed in establishing P.
Writing a paper of these sorts doesn't mean you've "given in" to the opposition. After all, neither of these papers commits you to the view that not-P. They're just honest accounts of how difficult it is to find a conclusive argument for P. P might still be true, for all that.
3. Rewrite, and Keep Rewriting
Now you've written a complete draft of your paper. Set the draft aside for a day or two.
Then come back to the draft and re-read it. As you read each sentence, say things like this to yourself:

"Does this really make sense?" "That's totally unclear!" "That sounds pretentious." "What does that mean?" "What's the connection between these two sentences?" "Am I just repeating myself here?" and so on.
Make sure every sentence in your draft does useful work. Get rid of any which don't. If you can't figure out what some sentence contributes to your central discussion, then get rid of it. Even if it sounds nice. You should never introduce any points in your paper unless they're important to your main argument, and you have the room to really explain them.
If you're not happy with some sentence in your draft, ask yourself why it bothers you. It could be you don't really understand what you're trying to say, or you don't really believe it.

Make sure your sentences say exactly what you want them to say. For example, suppose you write "Abortion is the same thing as murder." Is that what you really mean? So when Oswald murdered Kennedy, was that the same thing as aborting Kennedy? Or do you mean something different? Perhaps you mean that abortion is a form of murder. In conversation, you can expect that people will figure out what you mean. But you shouldn't write this way. Even if your TA is able to figure out what you mean, it's bad writing. In philosophical prose, you have to be sure to say exactly what you mean.

Also pay attention to the structure of your draft. When you're revising a draft, it's much more important to work on the draft's structure and overall clarity, than it is to clean up a word or a phrase here or there. Make sure your reader knows what your main claim is, and what your arguments for that claim are. Make sure that your reader can tell what the point of every paragraph is. It's not enough that you know what their point is. It has to be obvious to your reader, even to a lazy, stupid, and mean reader.

If you can, show your draft to your friends or to other students in the class, and get their comments and advice. I encourage you to do this. Do your friends understand your main point? Are parts of your draft unclear or confusing to them? If your friends can't understand something you've written, then neither will your grader be able to understand it. Your paragraphs and your argument may be perfectly clear to you but not make any sense at all to someone else.

Another good way to check your draft is to read it out loud. This will help you tell whether it all makes sense. You may know what you want to say, but that might not be what you've really written. Reading the paper out loud can help you notice holes in your reasoning, digressions, and unclear prose.

You should count on writing many drafts of your paper. At least 3 or 4!! Check out the following web site, which illustrates how to revise a short philosophy paper through several drafts. Notice how much the paper improves with each revision:

Minor Points

Beginning your paper
Don't begin with a sentence like "Down through the ages, mankind has pondered the problem of..." There's no need to warm up to your topic. You should get right to the point, with the first sentence.
Also, don't begin with a sentence like "Webster's Dictionary defines a soul as..." Dictionaries aren't good philosophical authorities. They record the way words are used in everyday discourse. Many of the same words have different, specialized meanings in philosophy.

Grammar

It's OK to end a sentence with a preposition. It's also OK to split an infinitive, if you need to. (Sometimes the easiest way to say what you mean is by splitting an infinitive. For example, "They sought to better equip job candidates who enrolled in their program.") Efforts to avoid these often end up just confusing your prose.

Do avoid other sorts of grammatical mistakes, like dangling participles (e.g., "Hurt by her fall, the tree fell right on Mary's leg before she could get out of the way"), and the like.

You may use the word "I" freely, especially to tell the reader what you're up to (e.g., "I've just explained why... Now I'm going to consider an argument that...").

Don't worry about using the verb "is" or "to be" too much. In a philosophy paper, it's OK to use this verb as much as you need to.

Secondary readings
For most classes, I will put some articles and books on reserve in Bobst Library for additional reading. These are optional, and are for your independent study.
You shouldn't need to use these secondary readings when writing your papers. The point of the papers is to teach you how to analyze a philosophical argument, and present your own arguments for or against some conclusion. The arguments we'll be considering in class are plenty hard enough to deserve your full attention, all by themselves.

Can you write your paper as a dialogue or story?
No. Done well, these forms of philosophical writing can be very effective. That's why we read some dialogues and stories in Philosophy 3. But these forms of philosophical writing are extremely difficult to do well. They tempt the author to be imprecise and to use unclear metaphors. You need to master ordinary philosophical writing before you can do a good job with these more difficult forms.
Mechanics
Aim to make your papers less than or equal to the assigned word limit. Longer papers are typically too ambitious, or repetitious, or full of digressions. Your grade will suffer if your paper has these defects. So it's important to ask yourself: What are the most important things you have to say? What can be left out?
But neither should your papers be too short! Don't cut off an argument abruptly. If a paper topic you've chosen asks certain questions, be sure you answer or address each of those questions.

Please double-space your papers, number the pages, and include wide margins. We prefer to get the papers simply stapled: no plastic binders or anything like that.

Include your name on the paper. And don't turn in your only copy! (These things should be obvious, but apparently they're not.)

How You'll Be Graded

You'll be graded on three basic criteria:

1. How well do you understand the issues you're writing about?

2. How good are the arguments you offer?

3. Is your writing clear and well-organized?

We do not judge your paper by whether we agree with its conclusion. In fact, we may not agree amongst ourselves about what the correct conclusion is. But we will have no trouble agreeing about whether you do a good job arguing for your conclusion.
More specifically, we'll be asking questions like these:

Do you clearly state what you're trying to accomplish in your paper? Is it obvious to the reader what your main thesis is?

Do you offer supporting arguments for the claims you make? Is it obvious to the reader what these arguments are?

Is the structure of your paper clear? For instance, is it clear what parts of your paper are expository, and what parts are your own positive contribution?

Is your prose simple, easy to read, and easy to understand?

Do you illustrate your claims with good examples? Do you explain your central notions? Do you say exactly what you mean?

Do you present other philosophers' views accurately and charitably?

The comments I find myself making on students' philosophy papers most often are these:

"Explain this claim" or "What do you mean by this?" or "I don't understand what you're saying here"

"This passage is unclear (or awkward, or otherwise hard to read)" "Too complicated" "Too hard to follow" "Simplify"

"Why do you think this?" "This needs more support" "Why should we believe this?" "Explain why this is a reason to believe P" "Explain why this follows from what you said before"

"Not really relevant"

"Give an example?"

Try to anticipate these comments and avoid the need for them!

Your paper should do some philosophical work
A kind of complaint that is common in undergraduate philosophy papers goes like this:
Philosopher X assumes A and argues from there to B. B seems unattractive to me. Philosopher X just assumes A and doesn't give any argument for it. I don't think A is true. So I can just reject A and thereby avoid B.
This line of thought may very well be correct. And the student may very well be right that Philosopher X should have given more argument for A. But the student hasn't really philosophically engaged with Philosopher X's view in an interesting way. He hasn't really done much philosophical work. It was clear from the outset that Philosopher X was assuming A, and that if you don't want to make that assumption, you don't need to accept X's conclusion. If this is all you do in your paper, it won't be a strong paper and it will get a mediocre grade, even if it's well-written.
Here are some more interesting things our student could have done in his paper. He could have argued that B doesn't really follow from A, after all. Or he could have presented reasons for thinking that A is false. Or he could have argued that assuming A is an illegitimate move to make in a debate about whether B is true. Or something else of that sort. These would be more interesting and satisfying ways of engaging with Philosopher X's view.

Responding to comments from me or your TA
When you have the opportunity to rewrite a graded paper, keep the following points in mind.
Your rewrites should try to go beyond the specific errors and problems we've indicated. If you got below an A-, then your draft was generally difficult to read, it was difficult to see what your argument was and what the structure of your paper was supposed to be, and so on. You can only correct these sorts of failings by rewriting your paper from scratch. (Start with a new, empty window in your word processor.) Use your draft and the comments you received on it to construct a new outline, and write from that.

Keep in mind that when I or your TA grade a rewrite, we may sometimes notice weaknesses in unchanged parts of your paper that we missed the first time around. Or perhaps those weaknesses will have affected our overall impression of the paper, and we just didn't offer any specific recommendation about fixing them. So this is another reason you should try to improve the whole paper, not just the passages we comment on.

It is possible to improve a paper without improving it enough to raise it to the next grade level. Sometimes that happens. But I hope you'll all do better than that.

Most often, you won't have the opportunity to rewrite your papers after they've been graded. So you need to teach yourself to write a draft, scrutinize the draft, and revise and rewrite your paper before turning it in to be graded.

Acknowledgements
I don't want to claim undue credit for this work. A lot of the suggestions here derive from writing handouts that friends and colleagues lent me. (Alison Simmons and Justin Broackes deserve special thanks.) Also, I've browsed some other writing guidelines on the web, and occasionally incorporated advice I thought my students would find useful. Peter Horban's site deserves special mention. Thanks to Professor Horban for allowing me to incorporate some of his suggestions here.
Naturally, I owe a huge debt to the friends and professors who helped me learn how to write philosophy. I'm sure they had a hard time of it.

If you're a teacher and you think your own students would find this web site useful, you are free to point them here (or to distribute printed copies). It's all in the public good.

Full licensing details are here.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Guidelines on Writing a Philosophy Paper

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
guidelines on grammar, below). A philosophy paper consists of the reasoned defense of some claim Your paper must offer an argument. It can't consist in the mere report of your opinions, nor in a mere report of the opinions of the philosophers we discuss. You have to defend the claims you make.

# data[].attributes.headline
2.6 How to Argue - Philosophical Reasoning

# data[].attributes.subject
2.6 How to Argue - Philosophical Reasoning

# data[].attributes.body
This video gives an overview of philosophical reasoning and a breakdown of how deductive arguments work (and why they sometimes don’t work).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to Argue - Philosophical Reasoning: Crash Course Philosophy #2

# data[].attributes.headline
3.1 Epistemology: Introduction to Theory of Knowledge

# data[].attributes.subject
3.1 Epistemology: Introduction to Theory of Knowledge

# data[].attributes.body
This video examines the fine line separating knowing and just believing something.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
PHILOSOPHY - Epistemology: Introduction to Theory of Knowledge [HD]

# data[].attributes.body
This lecture introduces epistemology, explains the questions such a field investigates, look what it means to obtain knowledge, and why the need for such a field arose in the first place.

# data[].attributes.body
Explains general epistemology from the nature of knowledge, the nature of justification, and the limits of human knowledge.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Epistemology is the study of knowledge. Epistemologists concern themselves with a number of tasks, which we might sort into two categories.

First, we must determine the nature of knowledge; that is, what does it mean to say that someone knows, or fails to know, something? This is a matter of understanding what knowledge is, and how to distinguish between cases in which someone knows something and cases in which someone does not know something. While there is some general agreement about some aspects of this issue, we shall see that this question is much more difficult than one might imagine.

Second, we must determine the extent of human knowledge; that is, how much do we, or can we, know? How can we use our reason, our senses, the testimony of others, and other resources to acquire knowledge? Are there limits to what we can know? For instance, are some things unknowable? Is it possible that we do not know nearly as much as we think we do? Should we have a legitimate worry about skepticism, the view that we do not or cannot know anything at all?

Although this article provides an overview of the important issues, it leaves the most basic questions unanswered; epistemology will continue to be an area of philosophical discussion as long as these questions remain.

Table of Contents

1. Kinds of Knowledge

The term "epistemology" comes from the Greek "episteme," meaning "knowledge," and "logos," meaning, roughly, "study, or science, of." "Logos" is the root of all terms ending in "-ology" - such as psychology, anthropology - and of "logic," and has many other related meanings.

The word "knowledge" and its cognates are used in a variety of ways. One common use of the word "know" is as an expression of psychological conviction. For instance, we might hear someone say, "I just knew it wouldn't rain, but then it did." While this may be an appropriate usage, philosophers tend to use the word "know" in a factive sense, so that one cannot know something that is not the case. (This point is discussed at greater length in section 2b below.)

Even if we restrict ourselves to factive usages, there are still multiple senses of "knowledge," and so we need to distinguish between them. One kind of knowledge is procedural knowledge, sometimes called competence or "know-how;" for example, one can know how to ride a bicycle, or one can know how to drive from Washington, D.C. to New York. Another kind of knowledge is acquaintance knowledge or familiarity; for instance, one can know the department chairperson, or one can know Philadelphia.

Epistemologists typically do not focus on procedural or acquaintance knowledge, however, instead preferring to focus on propositional knowledge. A proposition is something which can be expressed by a declarative sentence, and which purports to describe a fact or a state of affairs, such as "Dogs are mammals," "2+2=7," "It is wrong to murder innocent people for fun." (Note that a proposition may be true or false; that is, it need not actually express a fact.) Propositional knowledge, then, can be called knowledge-that; statements of propositional knowledge (or the lack thereof) are properly expressed using "that"-clauses, such as "He knows that Houston is in Texas," or "She does not know that the square root of 81 is 9." In what follows, we will be concerned only with propositional knowledge.

Propositional knowledge, obviously, encompasses knowledge about a wide range of matters: scientific knowledge, geographical knowledge, mathematical knowledge, self-knowledge, and knowledge about any field of study whatever. Any truth might, in principle, be knowable, although there might be unknowable truths. One goal of epistemology is to determine the criteria for knowledge so that we can know what can or cannot be known, in other words, the study of epistemology fundamentally includes the study of meta-epistemology (what we can know about knowledge itself).

We can also distinguish between different types of propositional knowledge, based on the source of that knowledge. Non-empirical or knowledge is possible independently of, or prior to, any experience, and requires only the use of reason; examples include knowledge of logical truths such as the law of non-contradiction, as well as knowledge of abstract claims (such as ethical claims or claims about various conceptual matters). Empirical or a posteriori knowledge is possible only subsequent, or posterior, to certain sense experiences (in addition to the use of reason); examples include knowledge of the color or shape of a physical object or knowledge of geographical locations. (Some philosophers, called rationalists, believe that all knowledge is ultimately grounded upon reason; others, called empiricists, believe that all knowledge is ultimately grounded upon experience.) A thorough epistemology should, of course, address all kinds of knowledge, although there might be different standards for a priori and a posteriori knowledge.

We can also distinguish between individual knowledge and collective knowledge. Social epistemology is the subfield of epistemology that addresses the way that groups, institutions, or other collective bodies might come to acquire knowledge.

2. The Nature of Propositional Knowledge

Having narrowed our focus to propositional knowledge, we must ask ourselves what, exactly, constitutes knowledge. What does it mean for someone to know something? What is the difference between someone who knows something and someone else who does not know it, or between something one knows and something one does not know? Since the scope of knowledge is so broad, we need a general characterization of knowledge, one which is applicable to any kind of proposition whatsoever. Epistemologists have usually undertaken this task by seeking a correct and complete analysis of the concept of knowledge, in other words a set of individually necessary and jointly sufficient conditions which determine whether someone knows something.

a. Belief

Let us begin with the observation that knowledge is a mental state; that is, knowledge exists in one's mind, and unthinking things cannot know anything. Further, knowledge is a specific kind of mental state. While "that"-clauses can also be used to describe desires and intentions, these cannot constitute knowledge. Rather, knowledge is a kind of belief. If one has no beliefs about a particular matter, one cannot have knowledge about it.

For instance, suppose that I desire that I be given a raise in salary, and that I intend to do whatever I can to earn one. Suppose further that I am doubtful as to whether I will indeed be given a raise, due to the intricacies of the university's budget and such. Given that I do not believe that I will be given a raise, I cannot be said to know that I will. Only if I am inclined to believe something can I come to know it. Similarly, thoughts that an individual has never entertained are not among his beliefs, and thus cannot be included in his body of knowledge.

Some beliefs, those which the individual is actively entertaining, are called occurrent beliefs. The majority of an individual's beliefs are non-occurrent; these are beliefs that the individual has in the background but is not entertaining at a particular time. Correspondingly, most of our knowledge is non-occurrent, or background, knowledge; only a small amount of one's knowledge is ever actively on one's mind.

b. Truth

Knowledge, then, requires belief. Of course, not all beliefs constitute knowledge. Belief is necessary but not sufficient for knowledge. We are all sometimes mistaken in what we believe; in other words, while some of our beliefs are true, others are false. As we try to acquire knowledge, then, we are trying to increase our stock of true beliefs (while simultaneously minimizing our false beliefs).

We might say that the most typical purpose of beliefs is to describe or capture the way things actually are; that is, when one forms a belief, one is seeking a match between one's mind and the world. (We sometimes, of course, form beliefs for other reasons - to create a positive attitude, to deceive ourselves, and so forth - but when we seek knowledge, we are trying to get things right.) And, alas, we sometimes fail to achieve such a match; some of our beliefs do not describe the way things actually are.

Note that we are assuming here that there is such a thing as objective truth, so that it is possible for beliefs to match or to fail to match with reality. That is, in order for someone to know something, there must be something one knows about. Recall that we are discussing knowledge in the factive sense; if there are no facts of the matter, then there's nothing to know (or to fail to know). This assumption is not universally accepted - in particular, it is not shared by some proponents of relativism - but it will not be defended here. However, we can say that truth is a condition of knowledge; that is, if a belief is not true, it cannot constitute knowledge. Accordingly, if there is no such thing as truth, then there can be no knowledge. Even if there is such a thing as truth, if there is a domain in which there are no truths, then there can be no knowledge within that domain. (For example, if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then a belief that something is beautiful cannot be true or false, and thus cannot constitute knowledge.)

c. Justification

Knowledge, then, requires factual belief. However, this does not suffice to capture the nature of knowledge. Just as knowledge requires successfully achieving the objective of true belief, it also requires success with regard to the formation of that belief. In other words, not all true beliefs constitute knowledge; only true beliefs arrived at in the right way constitute knowledge.

What, then, is the right way of arriving at beliefs? In addition to truth, what other properties must a belief have in order to constitute knowledge? We might begin by noting that sound reasoning and solid evidence seem to be the way to acquire knowledge. By contrast, a lucky guess cannot constitute knowledge. Similarly, misinformation and faulty reasoning do not seem like a recipe for knowledge, even if they happen to lead to a true belief. A belief is said to be justified if it is obtained in the right way. While justification seems, at first glance, to be a matter of a belief's being based on evidence and reasoning rather than on luck or misinformation, we shall see that there is much disagreement regarding how to spell out the details.

The requirement that knowledge involve justification does not necessarily mean that knowledge requires absolute certainty, however. Humans are fallible beings, and fallibilism is the view that it is possible to have knowledge even when one's true belief might have turned out to be false. Between beliefs which were necessarily true and those which are true solely by luck lies a spectrum of beliefs with regard to which we had some defeasible reason to believe that they would be true. For instance, if I heard the weatherman say that there is a 90% chance of rain, and as a result I formed the belief that it would rain, then my true belief that it would rain was not true purely by luck. Even though there was some chance that my belief might have been false, there was a sufficient basis for that belief for it to constitute knowledge. This basis is referred to as the justification for that belief. We can then say that, to constitute knowledge, a belief must be both true and justified.

Note that because of luck, a belief can be unjustified yet true; and because of human fallibility, a belief can be justified yet false. In other words, truth and justification are two independent conditions of beliefs. The fact that a belief is true does not tell us whether or not it is justified; that depends on how the belief was arrived at. So, two people might hold the same true belief, but for different reasons, so that one of them is justified and the other is unjustified. Similarly, the fact that a belief is justified does not tell us whether it's true or false. Of course, a justified belief will presumably be more likely to be true than to be false, and justified beliefs will presumably be more likely or more probable to be true than unjustified beliefs. (As we will see in section 3 below, the exact nature of the relationship between truth and justification is contentious.)

d. The Gettier Problem

For some time, the justified true belief (JTB) account was widely agreed to capture the nature of knowledge. However, in 1963, Edmund Gettier published a short but widely influential article which has shaped much subsequent work in epistemology. Gettier provided two examples in which someone had a true and justified belief, but in which we seem to want to deny that the individual has knowledge, because luck still seems to play a role in his belief having turned out to be true.

Consider an example. Suppose that the clock on campus (which keeps accurate time and is well maintained) stopped working at 11:56pm last night, and has yet to be repaired. On my way to my noon class, exactly twelve hours later, I glance at the clock and form the belief that the time is 11:56. My belief is true, of course, since the time is indeed 11:56. And my belief is justified, as I have no reason to doubt that the clock is working, and I cannot be blamed for basing beliefs about the time on what the clock says. Nonetheless, it seems evident that I do not know that the time is 11:56. After all, if I had walked past the clock a bit earlier or a bit later, I would have ended up with a false belief rather than a true one.

This example and others like it, while perhaps somewhat far-fetched, seem to show that it is possible for justified true belief to fail to constitute knowledge. To put it another way, the justification condition was meant to ensure that knowledge was based on solid evidence rather than on luck or misinformation, but Gettier-type examples seem to show that justified true belief can still involve luck and thus fall short of knowledge. This problem is referred to as "the Gettier problem." To solve this problem, we must either show that all instances of justified true belief do indeed constitute knowledge, or alternatively refine our analysis of knowledge.

i. The No-False-Belief Condition

We might think that there is a simple and straightforward solution to the Gettier problem. Note that my reasoning was tacitly based on my belief that the clock is working properly, and that this belief is false. This seems to explain what has gone wrong in this example. Accordingly, we might revise our analysis of knowledge by insisting that to constitute knowledge, a belief must be true and justified and must be formed without relying on any false beliefs. In other words, we might say, justification, truth, and belief are all necessary for knowledge, but they are not jointly sufficient for knowledge; there is a fourth condition - namely, that no false beliefs be essentially involved in the reasoning that led to the belief - which is also necessary.

Unfortunately, this will not suffice; we can modify the example so that my belief is justified and true, and is not based on any false beliefs, but still falls short of knowledge. Suppose, for instance, that I do not have any beliefs about the clock's current state, but merely the more general belief that the clock usually is in working order. This belief, which is true, would suffice to justify my belief that the time is now 11:56; of course, it still seems evident that I do not know the time.

ii. The No-Defeaters Condition

However, the no-false-belief condition does not seem to be completely misguided; perhaps we can add some other condition to justification and truth to yield a correct characterization of knowledge. Note that, even if I didn't actively form the belief that the clock is currently working properly, it seems to be implicit in my reasoning, and the fact that it is false is surely relevant to the problem. After all, if I were asked, at the time that I looked at the clock, whether it is working properly, I would have said that it is. Conversely, if I believed that the clock wasn't working properly, I wouldn't be justified in forming a belief about the time based on what the clock says.

In other words, the proposition that the clock is working properly right now meets the following conditions: it is a false proposition, I do not realize that it is a false proposition, and if I had realized that it is a false proposition, my justification for my belief that it is 11:56 would have been undercut or defeated. If we call propositions such as this "defeaters," then we can say that to constitute knowledge, a belief must be true and justified, and there must not be any defeaters to the justification of that belief. Many epistemologists believe this analysis to be correct.

iii. Causal Accounts of Knowledge

Rather than modifying the JTB account of knowledge by adding a fourth condition, some epistemologists see the Gettier problem as reason to seek a substantially different alternative. We have noted that knowledge should not involve luck, and that Gettier-type examples are those in which luck plays some role in the formation of a justified true belief. In typical instances of knowledge, the factors responsible for the justification of a belief are also responsible for its truth. For example, when the clock is working properly, my belief is both true and justified because it's based on the clock, which accurately displays the time. But one feature that all Gettier-type examples have in common is the lack of a clear connection between the truth and the justification of the belief in question. For example, my belief that the time is 11:56 is justified because it's based on the clock, but it's true because I happened to walk by at just the right moment. So, we might insist that to constitute knowledge, a belief must be both true and justified, and its truth and justification must be connected somehow.

This notion of a connection between the truth and the justification of a belief turns out to be difficult to formulate precisely, but causal accounts of knowledge seek to capture the spirit of this proposal by more significantly altering the analysis of knowledge. Such accounts maintain that in order for someone to know a proposition, there must be a causal connection between his belief in that proposition and the fact that the proposition encapsulates. This retains the truth condition, since a proposition must be true in order for it to encapsulate a fact. However, it appears to be incompatible with fallibilism, since it does not allow for the possibility that a belief be justified yet false. (Strictly speaking, causal accounts of knowledge make no reference to justification, although we might attempt to reformulate fallibilism in somewhat modified terms in order to state this observation.)

While causal accounts of knowledge are no longer thought to be correct, they have engendered reliabilist theories of knowledge, which shall be discussed in section 3b below.

3. The Nature of Justification

One reason that the Gettier problem is so problematic is that neither Gettier nor anyone who preceded him has offered a sufficiently clear and accurate analysis of justification. We have said that justification is a matter of a belief's having been formed in the right way, but we have yet to say what that amounts to. We must now consider this matter more closely.

We have noted that the goal of our belief-forming practices is to obtain truth while avoiding error, and that justification is the feature of beliefs which are formed in such a way as to best pursue this goal. If we think, then, of the goal of our belief-forming practices as an attempt to establish a match between one's mind and the world, and if we also think of the application or withholding of the justification condition as an evaluation of whether this match was arrived at in the right way, then there seem to be two obvious approaches to construing justification: namely, in terms of the believer's mind, or in terms of the world.

a. Internalism

Belief is a mental state, and belief-formation is a mental process. Accordingly, one might reason, whether or not a belief is justified - whether, that is, it is formed in the right way - can be determined by examining the thought-processes of the believer during its formation. Such a view, which maintains that justification depends solely on factors internal to the believer's mind, is called internalism. (The term "internalism" has different meanings in other contexts; here, it will be used strictly to refer to this type of view about epistemic justification.)

According to internalism, the only factors that are relevant to the determination of whether a belief is justified are the believer's other mental states. After all, an internalist will argue, only an individual's mental states - her beliefs about the world, her sensory inputs (for example, her sense data) and her beliefs about the relations between her various beliefs - can determine what new beliefs she will form, so only an individual's mental states can determine whether any particular belief is justified. In particular, in order to be justified, a belief must be appropriately based upon or supported by other mental states.

This raises the question of what constitutes the basing or support relation between a belief and one's other mental states. We might want to say that, in order for belief A to be appropriately based on belief B (or beliefs B1 and B2, or B1, B2, and...Bn), the truth of B must suffice to establish the truth of A, in other words, B must entail A. (We shall consider the relationship between beliefs and sensory inputs below.) However, if we want to allow for our fallibility, we must instead say that the truth of B would give one good reason to believe that A is also true (by making it likely or probable that A is true). An elaboration of what counts as a good reason for belief, accordingly, is an essential part of any internalist account of justification.

However, there is an additional condition that we must add: belief B must itself be justified, since unjustified beliefs cannot confer justification on other beliefs. Because belief B be must also be justified, must there be some justified belief C upon which B is based? If so, C must itself be justified, and it may derive its justification from some further justified belief, D. This chain of beliefs deriving their justification from other beliefs may continue forever, leading us in an infinite regress. While the idea of an infinite regress might seem troubling, the primary ways of avoiding such a regress may have their own problems as well. This raises the "regress problem," which begins from observing that there are only four possibilities as to the structure of one's justified beliefs:

1. The series of justified beliefs, each based upon the other, continues infinitely.

2. The series of justified beliefs circles back to its beginning (A is based on B, B on C, C on D, and D on A).

3. The series of justified beliefs begins with an unjustified belief.

4. The series of justified beliefs begins with a belief which is justified, but not by virtue of being based on another justified belief.

These alternatives seem to exhaust the possibilities. That is, if one has any justified beliefs, one of these four possibilities must describe the relationships between those beliefs. As such, a complete internalist account of justification must decide among the four.

i. Foundationalism

Let us, then, consider each of the four possibilities mentioned above. Alternative 1 seems unacceptable because the human mind can contain only finitely many beliefs, and any thought-process that leads to the formation of a new belief must have some starting point. Alternative 2 seems no better, since circular reasoning appears to be fallacious. And alternative 3 has already been ruled out, since it renders the second belief in the series (and, thus, all subsequent beliefs) unjustified. That leaves alternative 4, which must, by process of elimination, be correct.

This line of reasoning, which is typically known as the regress argument, leads to the conclusion that there are two different kinds of justified beliefs: those which begin a series of justified beliefs, and those which are based on other justified beliefs. The former, called basic beliefs, are able to confer justification on other, non-basic beliefs, without themselves having their justification conferred upon them by other beliefs. As such, there is an asymmetrical relationship between basic and non-basic beliefs. Such a view of the structure of justified belief is known as "foundationalism." In general, foundationalism entails that there is an asymmetrical relationship between any two beliefs: if A is based on B, then B cannot be based on A.

Accordingly, it follows that at least some beliefs (namely basic beliefs) are justified in some way other than by way of a relation to other beliefs. Basic beliefs must be self-justified, or must derive their justification from some non-doxastic source such as sensory inputs; the exact source of the justification of basic beliefs needs to be explained by any complete foundationalist account of justification.

ii. Coherentism

Internalists might be dissatisfied with foundationalism, since it allows for the possibility of beliefs that are justified without being based upon other beliefs. Since it was our solution to the regress problem that led us to foundationalism, and since none of the alternatives seem palatable, we might look for a flaw in the problem itself. Note that the problem is based on a pivotal but hitherto unstated assumption: namely, that justification is linear in fashion. That is, the statement of the regress problem assumes that the basing relation parallels a logical argument, with one belief being based on one or more other beliefs in an asymmetrical fashion.

So, an internalist who finds foundationalism to be problematic might deny this assumption, maintaining instead that justification is the result of a holistic relationship among beliefs. That is, one might maintain that beliefs derive their justification by inclusion in a set of beliefs which cohere with one another as a whole; a proponent of such a view is called a coherentist.

A coherentist, then, sees justification as a relation of mutual support among many beliefs, rather than a series of asymmetrical beliefs. A belief derives its justification, according to coherentism, not by being based on one or more other beliefs, but by virtue of its membership in a set of beliefs that all fit together in the right way. (The coherentist needs to specify what constitutes coherence, of course. It must be something more than logical consistency, since two unrelated beliefs may be consistent. Rather, there must be some positive support relationship - for instance, some sort of explanatory relationship - between the members of a coherent set in order for the beliefs to be individually justified.)

Coherentism is vulnerable to the "isolation objection". It seems possible for a set of beliefs to be coherent, but for all of those beliefs to be isolated from reality. Consider, for instance, a work of fiction. All of the statements in the work of fiction might form a coherent set, but presumably believing all and only the statements in a work of fiction will not render one justified. Indeed, any form of internalism seems vulnerable to this objection, and thus a complete internalist account of justification must address it. Recall that justification requires a match between one's mind and the world, and an inordinate emphasis on the relations between the beliefs in one's mind seems to ignore the question of whether those beliefs match up with the way things actually are.

b. Externalism

Accordingly, one might think that focusing solely on factors internal to the believer's mind will inevitably lead to a mistaken account of justification. The alternative, then, is that at least some factors external to the believer's mind determine whether or not she is justified. A proponent of such a view is called an externalist.

According to externalism, the only way to avoid the isolation objection and ensure that knowledge does not include luck is to consider some factors other than the individual's other beliefs. Which factors, then, should be considered? The most prominent version of externalism, called reliabilism, suggests that we consider the source of a belief. Beliefs can be formed as a result of many different sources, such as sense experience, reason, testimony, memory. More precisely, we might specify which sense was used, who provided the testimony, what sort of reasoning is used, or how recent the relevant memory is. For every belief, we can indicate the cognitive process that led to its formation. In its simplest and most straightforward form, reliabilism maintains that whether or not a belief is justified depends upon whether that process is a reliable source of true beliefs. Since we are seeking a match between our mind and the world, justified beliefs are those which result from processes which regularly achieve such a match. So, for example, using vision to determine the color of an object which is well-lit and relatively near is a reliable belief-forming process for a person with normal vision, but not for a color-blind person. Forming beliefs on the basis of the testimony of an expert is likely to yield true beliefs, but forming beliefs on the basis of the testimony of compulsive liars is not. In general, if a belief is the result of a cognitive process which reliably (most of the time - we still want to leave room for human fallibility) leads to true beliefs, then that belief is justified.

The foregoing suggests one immediate challenge for reliabilism. The formation of a belief is a one-time event, but the reliability of the process depends upon the long-term performance of that process. (This can include counterfactual as well as actual events. For instance, a coin which is flipped only once and lands on heads nonetheless has a 50% chance of landing on tails, even though its actual performance has yielded heads 100% of the time.) And this requires that we specify which process is being used, so that we can evaluate its performance in other instances. However, cognitive processes can be described in more or less general terms: for example, the same belief-forming process might be variously described as sense experience, vision, vision by a normally-sighted person, vision by a normally-sighted person in daylight, vision by a normally-sighted person in daylight while looking at a tree, vision by a normally-sighted person in daylight while looking at an elm tree, and so forth. The "generality problem" notes that some of these descriptions might specify a reliable process but others might specify an unreliable process, so that we cannot know whether a belief is justified or unjustified unless we know the appropriate level of generality to use in describing the process.

Even if the generality problem can be solved, another problem remains for externalism. Keith Lehrer presents this problem by way of his example of Mr. Truetemp. Truetemp has, unbeknownst to him, had a tempucomp - a device which accurately reads the temperature and causes a spontaneous belief about that temperature - implanted in his brain. As a result, he has many true beliefs about the temperature, but he does not know why he has them or what their source is. Lehrer argues that, although Truetemp's belief-forming process is reliable, his ignorance of the tempucomp renders his temperature-beliefs unjustified, and thus that a reliable cognitive process cannot yield justification unless the believer is aware of the fact that the process is reliable. In other words, the mere fact that the process is reliable does not suffice, Lehrer concludes, to justify any beliefs which are formed via that process.

4. The Extent of Human Knowledge

a. Sources of Knowledge

Given the above characterization of knowledge, there are many ways that one might come to know something. Knowledge of empirical facts about the physical world will necessarily involve perception, in other words, the use of the senses. Science, with its collection of data and conducting of experiments, is the paradigm of empirical knowledge. However, much of our more mundane knowledge comes from the senses, as we look, listen, smell, touch, and taste the various objects in our environments.

But all knowledge requires some amount of reasoning. Data collected by scientists must be analyzed before knowledge is yielded, and we draw inferences based on what our senses tell us. And knowledge of abstract or non-empirical facts will exclusively rely upon reasoning. In particular, intuition is often believed to be a sort of direct access to knowledge of the a priori.

Once knowledge is obtained, it can be sustained and passed on to others. Memory allows us to know something that we knew in the past, even, perhaps, if we no longer remember the original justification. Knowledge can also be transmitted from one individual to another via testimony; that is, my justification for a particular belief could amount to the fact that some trusted source has told me that it is true.

b. Skepticism

In addition to the nature of knowledge, epistemologists concern themselves with the question of the extent of human knowledge: how much do we, or can we, know? Whatever turns out to be the correct account of the nature of knowledge, there remains the matter of whether we actually have any knowledge. It has been suggested that we do not, or cannot, know anything, or at least that we do not know as much as we think we do. Such a view is called skepticism.

We can distinguish between a number of different varieties of skepticism. First, one might be a skeptic only with regard to certain domains, such as mathematics, morality, or the external world (this is the most well-known variety of skepticism). Such a skeptic is a local skeptic, as contrasted with a global skeptic, who maintains that we cannot know anything at all. Also, since knowledge requires that our beliefs be both true and justified, a skeptic might maintain that none of our beliefs are true or that none of them are justified (the latter is much more common than the former).

While it is quite easy to challenge any claim to knowledge by glibly asking, "How do you know?", this does not suffice to show that skepticism is an important position. Like any philosophical stance, skepticism must be supported by an argument. Many arguments have been offered in defense of skepticism, and many responses to those arguments have been offered in return. Here, we shall consider two of the most prominent arguments in support of skepticism about the external world.

c. Cartesian Skepticism

In the first of his Meditations, René Descartes offers an argument in support of skepticism, which he then attempts to refute in the later Meditations. The argument notes that some of our perceptions are inaccurate. Our senses can trick us; we sometimes mistake a dream for a waking experience, and it is possible that an evil demon is systematically deceiving us. (The modern version of the evil demon scenario is that you are a brain-in-a-vat, because scientists have removed your brain from your skull, connected it to a sophisticated computer, and immersed it in a vat of preservative fluid. The computer produces what seem to be genuine sense experiences, and also responds to your brain's output to make it seem that you are able to move about in your environment as you did when your brain was still in your body. While this scenario may seem far-fetched, we must admit that it is at least possible.)

As a result, some of our beliefs will be false. In order to be justified in believing what we do, we must have some way to distinguish between those beliefs which are true (or, at least, are likely to be true) and those which are not. But just as there are no signs that will allow us to distinguish between waking and dreaming, there are no signs that will allow us to distinguish between beliefs that are accurate and beliefs which are the result of the machinations of an evil demon. This indistinguishability between trustworthy and untrustworthy belief, the argument goes, renders all of our beliefs unjustified, and thus we cannot know anything. A satisfactory response to this argument, then, must show either that we are indeed able to distinguish between true and false beliefs, or that we need not be able to make such a distinction.

d. Humean Skepticism

According to the indistinguishability skeptic, my senses can tell me how things appear, but not how they actually are. We need to use reason to construct an argument that leads us from beliefs about how things appear to (justified) beliefs about how they are. But even if we are able to trust our perceptions, so that we know that they are accurate, David Hume argues that the specter of skepticism remains. Note that we only perceive a very small part of the universe at any given moment, although we think that we have knowledge of the world beyond that which we are currently perceiving. It follows, then, that the senses alone cannot account for this knowledge, and that reason must supplement the senses in some way in order to account for any such knowledge. However, Hume argues, reason is incapable of providing justification for any belief about the external world beyond the scope of our current sense perceptions. Let us consider two such possible arguments and Hume's critique of them.

i. Numerical vs. Qualitative Identity

We typically believe that the external world is, for the most part, stable. For instance, I believe that my car is parked where I left it this morning, even though I am not currently looking at it. If I were to go peek out the window right now and see my car, I might form the belief that my car has been in the same space all day. What is the basis for this belief? If asked to make my reasoning explicit, I might proceed as follows:

I have had two sense-experiences of my car: one this morning and one just now.
The two sense-experiences were (more or less) identical.
Therefore, it is likely that the objects that caused them are identical.
Therefore, a single object - my car - has been in that parking space all day.

Similar reasoning would undergird all of our beliefs about the persistence of the external world and all of the objects we perceive. But are these beliefs justified? Hume thinks not, since the above argument (and all arguments like it) contains an equivocation. In particular, the first occurrence of "identical" refers to qualitative identity. The two sense-experiences are not one and the same, but are distinct; when we say that they are identical we mean that one is similar to the other in all of its qualities or properties. But the second occurrence of "identical" refers to numerical identity. When we say that the objects that caused the two sense-experiences are identical, we mean that there is one object, rather than two, that is responsible for both of them. This equivocation, Hume argues, renders the argument fallacious; accordingly, we need another argument to support our belief that objects persist even when we are not observing them.

ii. Hume's Skepticism about Induction

Suppose that a satisfactory argument could be found in support of our beliefs in the persistence of physical objects. This would provide us with knowledge that the objects that we have observed have persisted even when we were not observing them. But in addition to believing that these objects have persisted up until now, we believe that they will persist in the future; we also believe that objects we have never observed similarly have persisted and will persist. In other words, we expect the future to be roughly like the past, and the parts of the universe that we have not observed to be roughly like the parts that we have observed. For example, I believe that my car will persist into the future. What is the basis for this belief? If asked to make my reasoning explicit, I might proceed as follows:

My car has always persisted in the past.
Nature is roughly uniform across time and space (and thus the future will be roughly like the past).
Therefore, my car will persist in the future.

Similar reasoning would undergird all of our beliefs about the future and about the unobserved. Are such beliefs justified? Again, Hume thinks not, since the above argument, and all arguments like it, contain an unsupported premise, namely the second premise, which might be called the Principle of the Uniformity of Nature (PUN). Why should we believe this principle to be true? Hume insists that we provide some reason in support of this belief. Because the above argument is an inductive rather than a deductive argument, the problem of showing that it is a good argument is typically referred to as the "problem of induction." We might think that there is a simple and straightforward solution to the problem of induction, and that we can indeed provide support for our belief that PUN is true. Such an argument would proceed as follows:

PUN has always been true in the past.
Nature is roughly uniform across time and space (and thus the future will be roughly like the past).
Therefore, PUN will be true in the future.

This argument, however, is circular; its second premise is PUN itself! Accordingly, we need another argument to support our belief that PUN is true, and thus to justify our inductive arguments about the future and the unobserved.

5. Conclusion

The study of knowledge is one of the most fundamental aspects of philosophical inquiry. Any claim to knowledge must be evaluated to determine whether or not it indeed constitutes knowledge. Such an evaluation essentially requires an understanding of what knowledge is and how much knowledge is possible. While this article provides on overview of the important issues, it leaves the most basic questions unanswered; epistemology will continue to be an area of philosophical discussion as long as these questions remain.

6. References and Further Reading

Alston, William P., 1989. Epistemic Justification: Essays in the Theory of Knowledge. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Chisholm, Roderick, 1966. Theory of Knowledge, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Chisholm, Roderick, 1977. Theory of Knowledge, 2nd edition. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Descartes, Rene, 1641. Meditations on First Philosophy. Reprinted in The Philosophical Writings of Descartes (3 volumes). Cottingham, Stoothoff and Murdoch, trans. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Descartes presents an infallibilist version of foundationalism, and attempts to refute skepticism.

Dancy, Jonathan and Ernest Sosa (eds.), 1993. A Companion to Epistemology. Oxford: Blackwell.

DeRose, Keith, 1995. "Solving the Skeptical Problem" Philosophical Review, 104, pp. 1-52.

DeRose Keith and Ted Warfield (eds.), 1999. Skepticism: A Contemporary Reader. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Goldman, Alvin, 1976. "A Causal Theory of Knowing." Journal of Philosophy, 64, pp. 357-372.

Hume, David, 1739. A Treatise on Human Nature. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hume, David, 1751. An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. Indianapolis: Hackett.

Lehrer, Keith and Stewart Cohen, 1983. "Justification, Truth, and Coherence." Synthese, 55, pp. 191-207.

Lewis, David, 1996. "Elusive Knowledge" Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 74, pp. 549-567.

Locke, John, 1689. An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Oxford: Clarendon.

Plato, Meno and Theaetetus. In Complete Works. J. Cooper, ed. Indianapolis: Hackett.
Plato presents and defends a version of the JTB analysis of knowledge.

Author Information

David A. Truncellito
Email: truncell@aya.yale.edu
U. S. A.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Epistemology is the study of knowledge. Epistemologists concern themselves with a number of tasks, which we might sort into two categories. First, we must determine the nature of knowledge; that is, what does it mean to say that someone knows, or fails to know, something?

# data[].attributes.headline
3.4 Knowledge: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
3.4 Knowledge: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
What is knowledge? How does it differ from mere belief? Do you need to be able to justify a claim in order to count as knowing it? How can we know that the outer world is real and not a dream? This book explores these questions and more.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
3.5 Scepticism: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
3.5 Scepticism: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
Throughout history, scepticism and the urge to question accepted truths has been a powerful force for change and growth. Today, we are bombarded by an array of information, some of which are false. And so a healthy amount of scepticism is encouraged. But when is scepticism a legitimate tool? When is it problematic?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the concept of epistemic injustices, i.e. when a person is unfairly excluded from participation due to prejudices or biases, and how the power dynamics of society can affect who is believed and whose experiences are valued and understood.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
1000-Word Philosophy: An Introductory Anthology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
All three people above suffer what contemporary English philosopher Miranda Fricker calls epistemic injustice. "Epistemic" means relating to knowledge. Epistemic injustice refers to a wrong done to someone as a knower or transmitter of knowledge: due to unjustified prejudice, someone is unfairly judged to not have the knowledge or reasonable beliefs that they actually have.

Fricker identifies two forms of epistemic injustice: testimonial and hermeneutical. This essay explains these forms of epistemic injustice and surveys some suggestions for how to prevent them.

1. Testimonial Injustice

Testimony involves someone sharing their knowledge with someone else. Testimony typically happens when people communicate: e.g., giving directions, reporting the news, writing a research paper. Testimony isn't just statements in a courtroom: whenever we gain knowledge from other people, we rely on testimony. Testimony is credible when there's good reason to believe that what's claimed is true, when the person testifying knows what they claim to know.

A speaker suffers testimonial injustice when their testimony is judged to be not or less credible because of prejudice and not because the testimony itself is unreasonable. These prejudices can be related to race, gender, accent, age, and others and impact people in many areas of life: economic, educational, professional, sexual, legal, political, religious, and more. Testimonial injustices caused by such prejudices constitute the central cases of testimonial injustice.

Testimonial injustice can take various forms. For instance, a female board member's prediction might be rejected due to the prejudices of her male colleagues: this is called testimonial quieting. Alternatively, that female board member might instead silence or limit her assertions beforehand knowing that she'll receive inappropriately low credibility: this is called testimonial smothering.

2. Hermeneutical Injustice

A second type of epistemic injustice is known as hermeneutical injustice. "Hermeneutical" relates to interpretation and understanding.

Some argue that hermeneutical injustice doesn't require a lack of concepts since it can occur when interpretations of a certain group's experiences, and the resulting concepts, are unduly dismissed by others. For instance, postpartum depression might be dismissed as a personal deficiency rather than a genuine medical condition: this is called hermeneutical dissent.

Unlike testimonial injustice, hermeneutical injustice is not the result of an individual hearer's prejudice: no single agent perpetrates hermeneutical injustice. In the sexual harassment example, it's not any individual's prejudice, but prejudicial practices in society that resulted in people lacking the concept of sexual harassment.

3. The Wrong of Epistemic Injustice

Producing and spreading knowledge is part of being human. Epistemic injustice results in victims' being at least partially excluded from participation in these activities.

Epistemic injustice can lead to grave practical consequences for both victims and wrongdoers. A wrongly disbelieved defendant might lose their freedom or life. Not listening to a board member who might have crucial knowledge for the future of the company may have dire consequences.

4. How to Prevent Epistemic Injustice

Since victims of prejudice can have undue difficulty articulating their experiences, we should try to make out how their experiences would be understood in a prejudice-free climate.

5. Conclusion

It's difficult to overestimate the value of being (recognized as) someone with knowledge. So it's difficult to overestimate the badness of knowledge-related unfairness or epistemic injustice. Addressing and avoiding such injustice, however, requires both social and political change and, often, serious personal effort.

See Green, Epistemology of Testimony, for further discussion on the epistemology of testimony.

More specifically, a speaker suffers testimonial injustice when they are given a level of credibility different from what's appropriate due to prejudice. Hence, a speaker might suffer testimonial injustice also as a result of their testimony being judged as more credible than it actually is. Fricker argues that individual cases of one's testimony being judged more credible doesn't constitute testimonial injustice. However, she accepts that these cases seldom might add up to testimonial injustice (Fricker 2007, pp. 20-21). Davis (2016) argues that a speaker's testimony being judged more credible is a bigger problem than Fricker thought. This is because, Davis argues, testimonial injustice is wrong primarily because the victim is treated merely as a member of a group and not as the unique person that she is. And when a speaker is judged as more credible due to (positive) prejudices that are based on (positive) stereotypes, she's treated merely as a member of a group and not as the unique person that she is.

Corresponding to the two forms of epistemic injustice, Fricker identifies two different character traits and calls them the virtue of testimonial justice, and the virtue of hermeneutical justice. A virtue, roughly, is a relatively stable character trait-like honesty, generosity, or compassion.

References

Anderson, Elizabeth (2012) "Epistemic Justice as a Virtue of Social Institutions," Social Epistemology: A Journal of Knowledge, Culture and Policy, 26(2): 163-173.

Goetze, Trystan S. (2018) "Hermeneutical Dissent and the Species of Hermeneutical Injustice," Hypatia: A Journal of Feminist Philosophy, 33: 73-90.

Related Essays

Epistemic Justification: What is Rational Belief? by Todd R. Long

Acknowledgments

I am greatly indebted to Shane Gronholz, Chelsea Haramia, Kellan D L Head, Sanggu Lee, Dan Lowe, YaoJun Lu, Thomas Metcalf and Nathan Nobis for their invaluable comments on earlier versions of this article.

Translation

PDF Download

About the Author

Huzeyfe Demirtas is a Postdoctoral Research Associate in the Smith Institute for Political Economy and Philosophy at Chapman University. His primary research interests are moral responsibility, ethics of AI, and applied ethics, especially environmental ethics. philpeople.org/profiles/huzeyfe-demirtas-1

Follow 1000-Word Philosophy on , and subscribe to receive email notifications of new essays at the bottom of 1000WordPhilosophy.com

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.authors[].name
1000-Word Philosophy: An Introductory Anthology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
An introduction to the concept of epistemic injustice.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the differences between echo chambers and epistemic bubbles.

# data[].attributes.headline
3.8 The Obligation to Diversify One's Sources

# data[].attributes.subject
3.8 The Obligation to Diversify One's Sources

# data[].attributes.body
This paper explores whether we have a duty to diversify the sources of information we consume.

# data[].attributes.body
This paper explores the impact of fake news on political beliefs and voting behaviour, how it spreads, and why the solution to this problem might require institutional changes.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
ABSTRACT. This paper does four things: (1) It provides an analysis of the concept 'fake news.' (2) It identifies distinctive epistemic features of social media testimony. (3) It argues that partisanship-in-testimony-reception is not always epistemically vicious; in fact some forms of partisanship are consistent with individual epistemic virtue. (4) It argues that a solution to the problem of fake news will require changes to institutions, such as social media platforms, not just to individual epistemic practices.

Did you know that Hillary Clinton sold weapons to ISIS? Or that Mike Pence called Michelle Obama "the most vulgar First Lady we've ever had"? No, you didn't know these things. You couldn't know them, because these claims are false.[1] But many American voters believed them.

One of the most distinctive features of the 2016 campaign was the rise of "fake news," factually false claims circulated on social media, usually via channels of partisan camaraderie. Media analysts and social scientists are still debating what role fake news played in Trump's victory.[2] But whether or not it drove the outcome, fake news certainly affected the choices of some individual voters.

Why were people willing to believe easily dis-confirmable, often ridiculous, stories? In this paper I will suggest the following answer: people believe fake news because they acquire it through social media sharing, which is a peculiar sort of testimony. Social media sharing has features that reduce audience willingness to think critically or check facts. This effect is amplified when the testifier and audience share a partisan orientation. Shared partisan affiliation encourages testimony recipients to grant more credibility to testifiers than would otherwise be warranted.

So far these points may seem familiar. But the deeper aim of this paper is to normatively evaluate how fake news is transmitted, and here my answer may be less expected. I will argue that fake news transmission is often individually reasonable. That is, individual people typically act reasonably when they grant greater credibility to fellow partisans, even if this sometimes leads to the acquisition of false beliefs. This normative analysis generates a further claim about the remedy for fake news: it will not be solved by focusing on individual epistemic virtue. Rather, we must treat fake news as a tragedy of the epistemic commons, and its solution as a coordination problem. Fake news exploits otherwise reasonable practices of information transmission. Ending it will require institutional change.

This paper has four goals, corresponding to the following four parts. First, I give an analysis of the concept 'fake news.' Second, I identify the unusual epistemic features of news transmission via social media testimony. Third, I argue that partisanship in testimony is sometimes individually reasonable, and can be consistent with epistemic virtue despite predictably generating false beliefs. Fourth, I argue that we should treat the harms of partisan epistemology as an institutional, rather than individual, problem, and I offer an example of institutional improvement.

WHAT IS FAKE NEWS?

What is fake news? It is not merely false information conveyed by reportage. As the word 'fake' suggests, fake news requires intentional deception; honest reporting errors are not fake news.[3] When TIME journalist Zeke Miller falsely reported on Twitter that Donald Trump had removed a bust of MLK Jr. from the Oval Office, this was not fake news. Miller mistakenly believed that the bust had been removed, though in fact it was merely hidden behind a door (Gibbs 2017). Fake news is not merely false; it is deceptive.

But this is not yet sufficient to fully characterize fake news, because fake news involves a particular type of deception. It is more than mere lying. Suppose you ask me why I did not come to your Jeff Sessions Appreciation Party, and I falsely claim that I was doing the laundry. In fact, I was undergoing a superfluous root canal, an experience I deemed preferable to attending your party. This is not fake news, though obviously it is intentional deception. The 'news' part of 'fake news' implies that the deception is intended for an audience larger than the immediate recipient; fake news is meant to be shared and shared again.

The intentions behind fake news are also more complicated than in simple cases of lying. A moment ago I said that fake news requires intentional deception, but this may be too strong. Deception is not always the primary goal of fake news. Often the motive is financial rather than epistemic. Entire businesses, now infamously concentrated in Macedonia, exist to generate fake news headlines that attract fervent Internet clicking-and ad revenue (Silverman and Alexander 2016). The film studio 20th Century Fox recently created websites full of click-bait fake stories in order to attract social media attention to promote a new film (Rainey 2017). Presumably these entrepreneurial Macedonian teenagers and film producers did not care whether anyone ended up believing their fake news, so long as the clicks kept coming.

These examples show the complexity of motives for fake news; spreading false information is not the only goal. But deception does play some role, even in these cases. Fake news works as click-bait only if a large number of people choose to share links, and presumably this requires that at least some of them believe the story. People who make money from fake news are perfectly happy if nine-in-ten of their readers are not deceived, but they do need some percentage to be deceived long enough to convey the link to future clickers. So we can say that creators of fake news intend to deceive at least a part of their overall audience, even if this deception is merely instrumental and not the ultimate goal.

Of course, other fake news creators do intend to deceive as many people as possible. Committed partisans try to erode their opponents' support by tricking persuadable voters. Foreign actors may be involved as well; some analysts claim that anti-Clinton fake news was manufactured by shady groups with links to Russian military intelligence.[4] For these creators, fake news needs to travel widely not only to generate clicks, but also to change epistemic states. We can call this aimed-at-deception form 'pure' fake news, while also keeping in mind the impure, deception-as-instrument form motivated by financial gain.

So, we can finally give a clear definition of fake news. A fake news story is one that purports to describe events in the real world, typically by mimicking the conventions of traditional media reportage, yet is known by its creators to be significantly false, and is transmitted with the two goals of being widely re-transmitted and of deceiving at least some of its audience.[5]

You'll note that my definition of fake news does not specify how it is transmitted. In particular, I have not specified that it is spread through social media. Fake news can be spread other ways-email chains, posters on streetlamps, etc. But there is a strong contingent relationship between fake news and social media, especially in the 2016 election. I will therefore focus on social media fake news.

THE BENT TESTIMONY OF SOCIAL MEDIA

Why do people believe fake news? A first-pass answer is easy enough; they believe fake news because it is presented to them via testimony, and like most of us they typically accept testimony from others, all else equal. Fake news stories turn up in their social media feeds, evidently endorsed by people whom they trust (to some degree), and it's natural to believe what trusted friends tell you.

The epistemology of testimony has received significant attention from philosophers in recent decades (e.g., Coady 1992; Lackey 2008; Goldberg 2010). A person counts as believing a proposition on the basis of testimony when she believes it because the proposition was presented to her by another person. This is typically an epistemically virtuous practice, as we rely upon others for our knowledge of many things distant from us in space or time. A community of people with a practice of accepting one another's testimony will be able to learn far more than individuals who insist upon believing only what they discover on their own.

Of course, an epistemic practice of uncritically accepting testimony would be prime for abuse by liars and bullshitters.[6] Sensible use of testimony requires norms for blocking the acceptance of suspect cases. Some of these norms have to do with the identity of the testifier or features of her current motivation.[7] It is wise to suspend default acceptance of testimony from someone who wishes to sell you a used car. Other norms are about testimonial content; like all sources of evidence, it is reasonable to suspend confidence in a piece of testimony if it is radically at odds with what you already know about how the world works. If a new acquaintance tells me that she saw a squirrel steal a park-goer's slice of pizza, I'm going to believe her. If she tells me that she saw a squirrel steal a police officer's handgun and rob a bank, I'm going to require further evidence.

These are elementary points about the epistemology of testimony. But they allow us to see how peculiar the transmission of fake news is. I'm now going to argue that social media transmission of fake news is a form of testimony, but it's a bent form of testimony.

Why is it a form of testimony at all? Look at an example. Suppose I believe that Donald Trump threatened to deport Lin-Manuel Miranda (though Miranda is an American citizen). My belief is false; Trump never said that.[8] But I believe it because I saw the headline circulating in my Facebook feed. My belief is therefore held on the basis of testimony; I believe it because it was presented as truth by another person.

Yet this is certainly not a standard case of testimony. For one thing, the relationship between the testifier and the content of her testimony is hard to categorize. In standard cases, the testifier makes an assertion. But when my friend posts a link to the story about Trump deporting Miranda, without further comment, is my friend asserting the content of that story?

Importantly, there is quite a lot of debate about this question, mostly in terms of whether people are rightly held accountable for posting or retweeting defective social media items. For example, in November 2015, Donald Trump himself posted to Twitter an infographic riddled with fake statistics, including the made-up claim that 81% of white homicide victims are killed by African-Americans (the actual figure is 15%) (Greenberg 2015). When challenged by Fox News personality Bill O'Reilly, Trump replied with a defense he has since given for other demonstrably false tweets: "Bill, am I gonna check every statistic? All it was is a retweet. It wasn't from me" (Colvin 2016).

The "just a retweet" defense will be familiar to social media users. When called out for posting material that is false or offensive, people often insist (truthfully) that they are not the originator of the content-they only passed it along. They often insist that "a retweet is not an endorsement" and claim that they pass along content to encourage discussion, not necessarily to stand behind it.

Is a retweet an endorsement? When you post a news link to Facebook without comment, are you vouching for its truth? These are disputed norms of communication. Social media is a relatively new way of distributing information, and we have yet to settle on norms for how to interpret its use. We understand that a newspaper article with an embedded quotation isn't necessarily affirming the content of the quote. But we don't yet have a common understanding about social media shares.

Notice that where we do have established norms for older forms of communication, they can be quite nuanced. Consider this situation: a person on the streetcorner is handing out printed copies of a newsletter. Should you understand that this person believes most of the factual claims contained in the newsletter? It depends. If this person is taking payment, then probably not; newsagents don't necessarily believe (or even read) much of what they sell. On the other hand, if the newsletter distributor isn't being compensated, then it is reasonable to assume they believe the contents of what they are passing out. Why else would they bother doing so, unless they believe that they are communicating important truths?[9]

But, for now at least, social media sharing operates under unstable norms. People are happy to be understood as asserting the contents of shared news stories that turn out accurate (especially if they 'scooped' their friends) but insist that they meant no such assertion when trouble emerges. And, for now, our accountability conventions seem to tolerate this instability; we may roll our eyes at "a retweet is not an endorsement," but we don't (yet) place most embarrassed retweeters in the same category as outright liars or bullshitters.

The instability of these norms is one reason that I called social media sharing a bent form of testimony. The epistemic relationship between testifier and testimony is ambiguous, as we haven't yet settled on a norm whereby sharing entails assertion.[10] Nevertheless, many of us treat social media sharing as if it were ordinary testimony, at least until something goes wrong. This is why the "a retweet is not an endorsement" mantra causes so much argument; many of us implicitly assume that our social media interlocutors do believe what they share, even though we are vaguely aware they may later disclaim it. This is part of what makes social media testimony aberrant.

There is a second reason that social media sharing of fake news is bent testimony: many fake news stories are ridiculous, seemingly violating a basic content-related norm of responsible testimony-reception, yet people accept the testimony anyway. Recall the earlier point that the reasonableness of default acceptance of testimony requires that we suspend confidence when a piece of testimony is radically at odds with what we know about the world. This norm seems to be routinely violated by social media users, who accept extraordinary stories about political enemies on mere say-so.

For example, consider the fiasco surrounding a Washington, DC, pizza parlor. For several weeks in 2016, social media posts circulated claiming that the restaurant's basement was being used as a hub for child sexual abuse by a Satanic cult including Hillary Clinton and several of her senior staff. On December 4, 28-year-old Edgar Welch allegedly drove from North Carolina to Washington, with a loaded AR-15 rifle at his side, in order to "self-investigate" the allegations. Welch was reportedly shocked to discover no evidence of child sex trafficking in the pizza parlor, and thankfully was arrested without harming anyone (Goldman 2016).

This story is a truly bizarre thing to believe, even if you think Clinton and her staff are evil. If a cabal of extremely powerful individuals wished to conduct vile and criminal activities, why would they choose to do so in the basement of a pizza parlor? Wouldn't their money and influence give them access to far more secure locations? The story is inconsistent with basic facts about human behavior, even assuming the worst of Clinton. Sensible employment of testimonial norms ought to filter out this sort of ridiculous story.

Yet Welch was not the only one who believed the pizza parlor story. According to a survey by YouGov and The Economist, 46% of Trump voters continued to believe the underlying conspiracy theory, even after the media attention focused on Welch's folly (Frankovic 2016).

There is something about social media sharing that seems to deaden people's normal application of consistency-with-the-world filtering on testimony. Before the era of social media, the pizza parlor story might have circulated by word of mouth among a particular paranoid sub-population (just as lurid urban legends have always surrounded the Clintons). But something about Facebook, etc. allowed a ridiculous story to build testimonial momentum to the point of acceptance by more than the furthest fringe.

I suspect that the two bent features of social media testimony are related to one another. Perhaps people are less inclined to subject ridiculous stories to scrutiny because we have unstable testimonial norms on social media. A friend posts a ridiculous story, without comment, and maybe they don't really mean it. But then other friends 'like' the story, or comment with earnest revulsion, or share it themselves. Each of these individual communicative acts involves some ambiguity in the speaker's testimonial intentions. But, when all appear summed together, this ambiguity seems to wash away. Perhaps the implicit thought is like this: could it really be that all these people aren't really testifying to this? A thought like that might overwhelm ordinary skepticism about ridiculous testimony.

I am not sure that I've got this mechanism quite right. Clearly, this is an empirical hypothesis for social scientific investigation. But however the details go, it seems plausible that the bent aspects of social media testimony play a role in the transmission of fake news.

THE (INDIVIDUAL) EPISTEMIC VIRTUE OF PARTISANSHIP

So far I have tried to explain what fake news is and how it passes through testimony. These have been descriptive analyses. I'll now turn to normative evaluation of social media transmission of fake news. I will defend a surprising conclusion: even though fake news is false and damaging, the testimonial practices propelling it are consistent with individual epistemic virtue. Specifically, I will argue it is partisanship that makes some fake-news-conveying practices reasonable, and partisanship is consistent with epistemic virtue.[11]

Before giving this argument I need to stress what I am not claiming. I am not claiming that it is good, full stop, for fake news to circulate and affect our collective political choices. That is obviously not a good thing. Nor am I claiming that partisanship is good in itself. What I am claiming is something more nuanced: given the realities of human psychology and politics, certain forms of epistemic partisanship are individually reasonable in the world as we actually confront it. This would not be the case in an ideal world, but that is not where we live. In effect, I am defending a form of non-ideal political-epistemic theory. Accordingly, I will argue that our normative focus should be on identifying realistic structural changes, rather than specifying idealized individual practice.

My first claim, then, is that partisanship-in-testimony-reception is sometimes compatible with epistemic virtue. That is, sometimes it makes sense to assign greater credibility to a testifier because you know you share a political affiliation with her.

The word 'sometimes' is important. I doubt that we should always assign greater credibility to co-partisans. If two people are testifying to the spectrometer-observed molecular mass of a particular carbon sample, it is probably not reasonable to trust the Democrat over the Republican, or vice versa. Rather, I mean to defend partisan epistemology within specific domains.

Which domains? The domain of politically normative claims, certainly, such as 'equality of opportunity is more important than equality of outcome.' I include also many morally normative claims. And I include some claims that are seemingly purely descriptive when these are relevant to political decisions. Most importantly, I include characterological judgments about particular political candidates. I will call all of these politically relevant claims. My position, then, is that partisanship in testimony reception is reasonable with regard to politically relevant claims.

Let me start with testimony about obviously normative matters, political and moral. Here I will simply assume that it is sometimes good practice to accept normative testimony from others, though some philosophers dispute this.[12] Allowing this assumption, I am now adding the further claim that it is sometimes reasonable to be differentially receptive to normative testimony from others, depending on their partisan affiliation.

Why? Consider what partisan affiliation involves. Though we sometimes bemoan it as mere tribalism, this is an exaggeration. Partisan affiliation reflects a person's value commitments. Political parties are partly defined by common views on the normatively appropriate shape of society. When I learn a person's partisan affiliation, I learn something about the political and moral values she endorses.

Of course, it is foolish to take partisan affiliation as signaling a monolithic set of values. Parties have significant normative diversity within them, as shown by recent confrontations between Bernie Sanders and establishment Democrats, or Trump and traditional Republicans. But we can still treat partisan affiliation as a reliable indicator of broad categories of values; that's why many people are hesitant to declare their partisan affiliation in conflict-averse social contexts.

So, when I learn that another person shares my partisan affiliation, I learn that she and I share at least some significant number of normative values. Or, to put it another way, I learn that she tends to get normative questions right (by my normative lights). She establishes herself as a more reliable normative judge than I would take her to be by default, or especially if she were affiliated to an opposed party.

Another way to make the point is to think about whether another person is my epistemic peer in normative domains. Typically, I should accept testimony only from those who are (reasonably assumed to be) at least as good as I am at making judgments in the domain about which they testify. Regarding sensory judgments (e.g., "Look over there, that's Lenny Kravitz!"), part of the motivation for default acceptance of testimony is that we assume others' perceptual systems are similar to ours (Foley 2001). However, if a person makes repeated perceptual errors, then I should cease regarding her as a peer and discount her perceptual testimony.

Presumably something similar applies to normative testimony. If a person repeatedly makes normatively suspect claims, I should begin to doubt that she is my normative peer, and eventually I should discount her normative testimony. Adam Elga suggests that in normative domains, our only epistemic peers are those who agree with us on a broad swath of claims. He offers the following case:

[C]onsider Ann and Beth, two friends who stand at opposite ends of the political spectrum. Consider the claim that abortion is morally permissible. Does Ann consider Beth a peer with respect to this claim? That is: setting aside her own reasoning about the abortion claim (and Beth's contrary view about it), does Ann think Beth would be just as likely as her to get things right? (Elga 2007, 492-3)

According to Elga, the answer is no. He reasons that, if Ann and Beth have discussed related issues, then Ann will know that Beth has (according to Ann) many mistaken views about such things as "whether human beings have souls, whether it is permissible to withhold treatment from certain terminally ill infants, and whether rights figure prominently in a correct ethical theory" (Elga 2007, 493). Since Beth is wrong about these issues, it would be reasonable for Ann to treat her moral testimony about abortion as less than that of a peer. On the other hand, Elga says, if they agreed about these other issues, then Ann could reasonably regard Beth as a peer on the abortion question. The upshot, says Elga, is that "with respect to many controversial issues, the associates who one counts as peers tend to have views that are similar to one's own" (Elga 2007, 494).[13]

We can infer many of a person's normative beliefs from her partisan affiliation, so partisan affiliation is a reasonable proxy for epistemic peerhood in political and moral normative domains. And social media participants tend to group themselves into partisan networks (Bakshy et al. 2015). People often know the partisan affiliation of their social media contacts, especially those who regularly post links to political news. Social media users treat these partisan signals as indicators of whom they can regard as normative peers, and this allows them to decide which testimony to receive.

So far I have been talking about testimony that is overtly normative-claims about how we should live together. But much of fake news is ostensibly descriptive. It claims that such-and-such happened, or that so-and-so said something. These are not normative claims. Is it reasonable to use partisan affiliation, which I've claimed is an indicator of normative peerhood, to assess testimony about descriptive claims?

I think so, at least when the testimony is politically related. This is because the act of transmitting political news implicates normative decisions on the part of the testifier. Often these are decisions about what is politically important. Our audience has only so much time to spend reading about politics, so we need to avoid wasting this time on trivialities. Political importance is a value-laden notion; the set of topics that are important to a political conservative will not be identical with those important to a progressive. Importance also plays a role in weighing the degree of confidence one must have before relaying an uncertain news report. Typically, the need to be confident scales with the importance of the subject matter (though this can be complicated in cases that require urgent response).

My point: trusting a testifier regarding political news requires trusting her judgments about political importance, and this means believing that she has, by and large, the right political values. Partisan affiliation provides this information.

This is especially true when testifiers offer characterological evidence about particular political candidates. Characterological evidence is dangerous because it can be easily biased through selective reporting. Everyone (political candidate or not) has some negative traits and has made some bad choices. If I choose to report only negative information, deliberately excluding redeeming characteristics, then relying on my testimony could lead you to a harsh assessment of anyone's character. Hence, if you are going to rely on my testimony about events related to a candidate's character, you need to trust that I have good judgment about the representativeness of particular stories, whether additional details might be exculpatory, and so forth. You need to trust that you and I share values relevant to these judgments-and partisan affiliation is a good indicator.

I've argued, then, that partisanship can be relevant to assessing the trustworthiness of testifiers on politically relevant claims-not just openly normative claims, but also some related descriptive claims about events, especially those that are meant to provide characterological evidence about candidates. If I am right, then some degree of partisanship-in-testimony-reception is indeed compatible with epistemic virtue.

Of course, the 'some degree' qualifier is important. Many epistemic virtues can become vicious in excess. Skepticism is "healthy" in moderation, but becomes destructive as it grows. One form of epistemic injustice is 'credibility excess,' in which we grant inappropriately high testimonial credibility on the basis of a testifier's demography.[14] These are types of epistemic vice that come from overextending virtuous practice. Similarly, it is obviously possible to make an epistemic vice of partisanship. One can overextend the credibility granted to co-partisans, either by simply assigning too much credibility or by allowing it to intrude into non-politically-relevant domains.[15]

Hence, my claim is obviously not that one should always believe whatever testimony is given by one's co-partisans. That is false. But, generally speaking, one may (and perhaps should) attribute greater credibility to co-partisan testifiers than to others. This is simply reasonable, given that shared partisan affiliation points to shared normative values.

And this, finally, allows to us to see why it is individually reasonable to accept the bent testimony of social media sharing. Recall the core ambiguity of bent testimony: people who share stories on social media may or may not be lending their epistemic imprimatur ("a retweet is not an endorsement"-unless it is), yet we tend to treat what they share as if it were unambiguous testimony anyway. I suggest that we do this because the reasonable credibility boost we give to co-partisans overcomes the hesitancy we feel about bent testimony.

The model is like this: I read a story on social media, shared by one or two of my co-partisan friends. The story is shocking, and I am vaguely aware that my friends' communicative intentions are ambiguous. Maybe they aren't really putting their imprimatur on this story. But I know that these friends share my partisan affiliation, hence many of my normative values. They wouldn't lie to me, right? They would exercise reasonable judgment about balancing confidence in important information, right? They wouldn't be confused about the relevance of this information to assessing a candidate's character, right?

Not always right, of course. But right often enough that trusting my co-partisans is reasonable. Hence, despite some qualms over the bent ambiguity of their testimony, I find myself starting to believe the stories they transmit.

Of course, if we were epistemic angels, we'd be more careful to check our testifiers' sources, to look for independent verification, to ask questions. But all that is true about accepting any testimony, not just on social media or among partisans. We take others' words for it when we just don't have the time to go out and investigate claims for ourselves. Social media sharing is the same. There is so much information available, and only so much time to conduct inquiries. In an epistemically non-ideal world, given our temporal and cognitive limitations, it simply makes sense to trust others, even when we antecedently know that this will sometimes lead us astray.[16]

Fake news, then, is a bad side effect of an individually reasonable epistemic practice. If we want to solve the problem of fake news, we're unlikely to find it in demanding revision to individual epistemic choices. Yes, we could insist that everyone become a far savvier user of social media testimony. But most people won't, and in our epistemically non-ideal world, most are reasonable not to bother.

If we want to solve the problem of fake news, we need to look beyond individual epistemic practices-we need to look at institutions.

INSTITUTIONS FOR ACCOUNTABILITY

I've argued that fake news is transmitted through a bent form of testimony and benefits from credibility gained through partisan affiliation. I've also argued that the problem is not likely to be addressed by focusing on partisanship, which had seemed the likely target. Instead, I'll now suggest, the best place to focus is on institutional arrangements that reduce the bentness of social media testimony.

Recall the core bent property of social media testimony: we have an unstable set of norms for assigning testimonial intentions to social media shares. We tend to treat them as conveying our interlocutors' testimonial approval, yet we also sometimes accept that "a retweet is not an endorsement."

It's this ambiguity that allows fake news to slip through. Resolving our ambiguous norms would greatly reduce the effectiveness of fake news. If we firmly established the norm that social media sharers are understood as conveying testimonial endorsement, then people would be less likely to share unverified stories, to avoid later being held responsible for errors. Alternatively, if we firmly established the norm that social media shares (without further comment) communicate no testimonial endorsement whatsoever, then people would be less likely to come to believe fake news on the basis of their friends' transmissions.

Which of these norms should we aim to establish? I think we must disqualify the second option on grounds of irreality; it is very unlikely that we will be able to convince people to begin treating social media sharing as communicating no testimonial endorsement whatsoever. After all, people use social media to communicate facts about themselves and their friends: so-and-so had a baby; my partner got a new job; look at these amazing photos of this place I could afford to travel to! It is reasonable to expect these reports to be truthful (allowing for self-promotional burnishing). A norm that required us to selectively withhold trust from a subset of ostensibly factual stories (those that are politically related) transmitted via a medium we usually trust seems unlikely to be psychologically efficacious.

A norm of accountability seems preferable then; we should aim for a norm that denies "a retweet is not an endorsement." People who share news should be unambiguously understood to lend their testimonial endorsement (barring explicit disclaimer), and should be held accountable if their claims are later shown false, in just the same way that a person spreading false rumors about an acquaintance may be held accountable. 'Holding accountable,' of course, needn't involve punishment or even condemnation. It may be simply a loss of testimonial reputation, such that repeated offenses lead to one's justified discredit as a participant in testimonial exchange.

How do we replace our ambiguous social media testimonial norms with a clear norm of accountability? Unfortunately, this may not be easily accomplished by individuals. It would require that we each keep track of where we learned every piece of purported political news, track later revelations about their accuracy, and trace debunked stories back to specific social media interlocutors. Sometimes days or weeks pass between the initial promotion of fake news and later debunking. It's not likely at all that many of us could put in the cognitive effort needed to sustain this norm.

This is why institutions matter. When the sustenance of a norm demands unrealistic resources from individual adherents, we can offload these demands to institutions. For a simple example, consider how pedestrians and cyclists interact on busy pathways. Generally, it is best for the pathway to be split-but which side is for pedestrians and which for cyclists? This can vary from place to place, and we cannot assume everyone will remember which is the pedestrian side in every place they visit. A simple institutional solution offloads the demand from memory: paint a line down the middle of the pathway and draw pedestrian and cycle icons on the appropriate sides. The paint facilitates adherence to the norm and makes accountability unambiguous.

We need something similar for social media testimony. The obvious source of infrastructure is the social media platforms themselves. If we could offload onto them the demands of keeping track of who-testified-to-what, then we could sustain a norm of holding people accountable for sharing fake news.

This may sound worrisomely as if I am calling for social media platforms to arbitrate the veracity of news stories and then censor their own users. Social media platforms will certainly refuse to do these things, and we probably would not want them to anyway. But there are milder solutions. I will conclude by describing one-though probably a better solution can be devised by professional technology and communication specialists.

We can start with something social media platforms are already doing. On December 16, 2016, Facebook announced that it will implement new measures against the distribution of fake news.[17] Users will be able to report stories they believe are false. Facebook will not determine veracity itself; instead it will refer frequently reported stories to independent fact-checking organizations such as Snopes.com. If these organizations judge a story false, Facebook's system will flag it as 'disputed,' and this flag will be visible to viewers, along with a link to the fact-checker's debunking. Anyone subsequently attempting to share the story will be confronted with a prompt informing them of its disputed status. They can still choose to share the story, but it will be auto-flagged as disputed, and Facebook may weight its algorithm to display other posts ahead of disputed stories.

This set of measures is a good idea, and will certainly help to sustain an accountability norm. A story that has been flagged as disputed is, presumably, less likely to be trusted on the basis of testimony, and people who persist in sharing disputed stories may suffer reputational consequences. But there are limitations to these measures. Most importantly, they may move too slowly. Many social media stories are ephemeral; everyone is talking about the latest outrage today, but by tomorrow they have moved on to the next (especially amid the perpetual chaos of the Trump administration). Facebook's reporting-and-referral-to-Snopes method will take time to catch up with individual fake news stories. By the time a story has been flagged disputed, much of the audience will have already seen it. Of course, it is good to take measures that reduce the durability of fake news by warning latecomers. But it would be better still to get ahead of the next fake story.

Hence, I suggest that social media platforms provide the infrastructure for tracking the testimonial reputation of individual users. Facebook already knows exactly what each user chooses to share. It will also soon have a database of disputed stories, courtesy of the measures it began implementing in December. It would be computationally simple, then, for Facebook to calculate a Reputation Score for individual users, based upon the frequency with which each user chose to share disputed stories. Reputation Scores could be displayed in a subtle way, perhaps with a colored icon beside user photos.[18]

Note that this proposal does not involve censorship. Facebook would not prevent anyone from sharing or receiving any story. Individual users could choose to ignore Reputation Scores. Facebook could provide optional settings for users' News Feeds, allowing them to deprioritize posts from those with low Reputation Scores, but this need not be the default.

The key advantage of this system is that it offloads memory resources for testimonial track records from individual users to institutional infrastructure. Doing so would encourage a norm of accountability for social media sharing; people could easily identify those who routinely share debunked stories, and the "retweet is not an endorsement" line would become increasingly implausible as track records tabulated. Gradually, our ambiguous testimonial norm could be displaced by a norm expecting genuine endorsement from unadorned sharing.

There are some problems with this proposal, of course. One is the danger of diluting the viewpoint neutrality of social media platforms. Some people continue to insist that fake news stories are true, even after repeated debunking. Months after the pizza parlor debacle, it is still possible to find new blog posts exploring the "conspiracy" and denouncing social media platforms for "censoring" discussion. My proposal would surely result in such people being assigned very unfavorable Reputation Scores by Facebook, and presumably the platform would prefer not to alienate any users. But I think that this problem is unavoidable for any serious institutional response to fake news. Notice that Facebook's new measures already depart from viewpoint neutrality by tagging stories as disputed.

A more particular problem with my proposal is that it sets a worrisome precedent for social media platforms 'ranking' their users. Dystopic speculative fiction regularly imagines that we will spend much of our future struggling to secure positive ratings for our social media personae-see Gary Shteyngart's novel Super Sad True Love Story, or the Black Mirror episode "Nosedive." This anxiety becomes especially pressing with repressive governments; recently, some local authorities in China began calculating a 'social-credit score' for citizens, which determines access to some government services and allegedly may include politically related social media behavior ( The Economist 2016). Perhaps the danger of such possibilities is severe enough that we should avoid any possible precedent, including the Reputation Score of my proposal.

I am sure there is a better, subtler, solution than my specific proposal. My fundamental point is only that we should start thinking in institutional terms. We need to resolve the ambiguous norms that make social media testimony so bent. Proposals addressing partisanship or other aspects of individual epistemic virtues are unlikely to work-partly because, as I've argued, some partisanship in testimony is individually reasonable. The most plausible solutions will be institutional, and social media platforms must do something to provide infrastructure for an accountability norm. Better norms, facilitated by wise institutions, are what will stop fake news exploiting gaps in otherwise reasonable norms of communication and belief.
Regina Rini teaches Bioethics at New York University. Her research focuses on the cognitive science of morality and the social significance of moral diversity. She is currently working on two books: one about the ethics of microaggression and the other about moral agency and disagreement. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the editor and an anonymous referee for helpful suggestions on this paper.
REFERENCES
Allcott, Hunt, and Matthew Gentzkow. 2017. "Social Media and Fake News in the 2016 Election." Journal of Economic Perspectives 31 (2): 211-236.

Bakshy, Eytan, Solomon Messing, and Lada A. Adamic. 2015. "Exposure to Ideologically Diverse News and Opinion on Facebook." Science 348 (6239): 1130-1132.

Brayton, Ed. 2016. "Please Stop Sharing Links to These Sites." Patheos. September 18. http://www.patheos.com/blogs/dispatches/2016/09/18/please-stop-sharing-links-to-these-sites/.

Coady, C. A. J. 1992. Testimony: A Philosophical Study. Oxford University Press.

Colvin, Jill. 2016. "Donald Trump's Favorite Excuse? It Was Just a 'Retweet'." Associated Press. February 22. http://elections.ap.org/content/donald-trumps-favorite-excuse-it-was-just-retweet.

Davis, Emmalon. 2016. "Typecasts, Tokens, and Spokespersons: A Case for Credibility Excess as Testimonial Injustice." Hypatia 31 (3): 485-501.

The Economist. 2016. "China Invents the Digital Totalitarian State." December 16. http://www.economist.com/news/briefing/21711902-worrying-implications-its-social-credit-project-china-invents-digital-totalitarian.

Elga, Adam. 2007. "Reflection and Disagreement." Nous 41 (3): 478-502.

Foley, Richard. 2001. Intellectual Trust in Oneself and Others. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Frankfurt, Harry. 2005. On Bullshit. Princeton University Press.

Frankovic, Kathy. 2016. "Belief in Conspiracies Largely Depends on Political Identity." YouGov. December 17-20. https://today.yougov.com/news/2016/12/27/belief-conspiracies-largely-depends-political-iden/.

Fricker, Miranda. 2007. Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing. Oxford University Press.

Gibbs, Nancy. 2017. "A Note to Our Readers." TIME. January 24. http://time.com/4645541/donald-trump-white-house-oval-office/.

Goldberg, Sanford. 2010. Relying on Others: An Essay in Epistemology. Oxford University Press.

Goldman, Adam. 2016. "The Comet Ping Pong Gunman Answers Our Reporter's Questions." The New York Times. December 7. http://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/07/us/edgar-welch-comet-pizza-fake-news.html.

Greenberg, Jon. 2015. "Trump's Pants on Fire Tweet that Blacks Killed 81% of White Homicide Victims." Politifact. November 23. http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2015/nov/23/donald-trump/trump-tweet-blacks-white-homicide-victims/.

Hills, Alison. 2009. "Moral Testimony and Moral Epistemology." Ethics 120 (1): 94-127.

Kruger, Justin, and David Dunning. 1999. "Unskilled and Unaware of it: How Difficulties in Recognizing One's Own Incompetence Lead to Inflated Self-Assessments." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 77 (6): 1121-34.

Lackey, Jennifer. 2008. Learning from Words: Testimony as a Source of Knowledge. Oxford University Press.

Lynch, Michael Patrick. 2016. The Internet of Us: Knowing More and Understanding Less in the Age of Big Data. New York: Liveright Publishing.

McGrath, Sarah. 2007. "Moral Disagreement and Moral Expertise." In Oxford Studies in Metaethics Vol. 4, edited by Russ Shafer-Landau, 87-108. Oxford University Press.

Medina, José. 2011. "The Relevance of Credibility Excess in a Proportional View of Epistemic Injustice: Differential Epistemic Authority and the Social Imaginary." Social Epistemology 25 (1): 15-35.

Mosseri, Adam. 2016. "News Feed FYI: Addressing Hoaxes and Fake News." Facebook Newsroom. December 15. http://newsroom.fb.com/news/2016/12/news-feed-fyi-addressing-hoaxes-and-fake-news/.

Norton, Ben, and Glenn Greenwald. 2016. "Washington Post Disgracefully Promotes a McCarthyite Blacklist From a New, Hidden, and Very Shady Group." The Intercept. November 26. https://theintercept.com/2016/11/26/washington-post-disgracefully-promotes-a-mccarthyite-blacklist-from-a-new-hidden-and-very-shady-group/.

Pronin, Emily, Daniel Y. Lin, and Lee Ross. 2002. "The Bias Blind Spot: Perceptions of Bias in Self Versus Others." Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 28 (3): 369-381.

Rainey, James. 2017. "20th Century Fox Apologizes for 'A Cure for Wellness' Fake News Promos." Variety. February 16. http://variety.com/2017/film/news/cure-for-wellness-fake-news-promos-studio-apologizes-1201990634/.

Silverman, Craig. 2016. "This Analysis Shows How Viral Fake News Stories Outperformed Real News on Facebook." BuzzFeed. November 16. https://www.buzzfeed.com/craigsilverman/viral-fake-election-news-outperformed-real-news-on-facebook.

Silverman, Craig, and Lawrence Alexander. 2016. "How Teens in The Balkans Are Duping Trump Supporters With Fake News." BuzzFeed. November 3. https://www.buzzfeed.com/craigsilverman/how-macedonia-became-a-global-hub-for-pro-trump-misinfo.

Sliwa, Paulina. 2012. "In Defense of Moral Testimony." Philosophical Studies 158 (2): 175-195.

Snopes.com. 2016a. "Shots Hired." October 14. http://www.snopes.com/wikileaks-cofirms-hillary-clinton-sold-weapons-to-isis/.

Snopes.com. 2016b. "A 'Vulgar' Lie. October 15. http://www.snopes.com/mike-pence-calls-michelle-obama-vulgar/.

Snopes.com. 2016c. "Puerto Rico Suave." November 4. http://www.snopes.com/trump-to-deport-lin-manuel-miranda/.

Timberg, Craig. 2016. "Russian Propaganda Effort Helped Spread 'Fake News' During Election, Experts Say." The Washington Post. November 24. https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/russian-propaganda-effort-helped-spread-fake-news-during-election-experts-say/2016/11/24/793903b6-8a40-4ca9-b712-716af66098fe_story.html.

Zimdars, Melissa. 2016. "False, Misleading, Clickbait-y, and Satirical 'News' Sources." http://d279m997dpfwgl.cloudfront.net/wp/2016/11/Resource-False-Misleading-Clickbait-y-and-Satirical-%E2%80%9CNews%E2%80%9
ENDNOTES
[1] For the Clinton story, see Snopes.com (2016a). For the Pence story, see Snopes.com (2016b).

[2] Silverman (2016) claims that the top 20 fake news headlines of the 2016 election cycle generated more Facebook engagement than the top 20 headlines from reputable news sources. Allcott and Gentzkow (2017), however, argue that fake news was unlikely to have been the determining factor in Trump's victory.

[3] Addendum, July 2017: This paper was written in January and February 2017. Since that time, the term 'fake news' has acquired an additional use, especially in tweets by President Trump. In this new usage, 'fake news' seems to mean any form of reportage that the speaker disagrees with. For example, on February 6 2017 President Trump tweeted: "Any negative polls are fake news, just like the CNN, ABC, NBC polls in the election. Sorry, people want border security and extreme vetting." (https://twitter.com/realdonaldtrump/status/828574430800539648) A further innovation is the extension of the term from particular news stories to entire news organizations. We can see this evolution in Trump tweets like "Mainstream (FAKE) media refuses to state our long list of achievements, including 28 legislative signings, strong borders & great optimism!" (April 29 2017, https://twitter.com/realdonaldtrump/status/858375278686613504) and "The Fake News Media works hard at disparaging & demeaning my use of social media because they don't want America to hear the real story!" (May 28 2017, https://twitter.com/realdonaldtrump/status/868985285207629825). However, this seems to be an idiosyncratic use of the term among Trump and his affiliates. This paper will persist with analysis of the original use of 'fake news', as it emerged during the 2016 campaign.

[4] In November, the Washington Post described claims by anonymous "experts" at the website PropOrNot that many fabricated anti-Clinton stories were amplified by Russian propaganda organs (Timberg 2016). But other journalists dispute the reliability of these claims (Norton and Greenwald 2016).

[5] Note that this definition excludes satirical news of the sort featured in The Daily Show or The Onion. Satire does not typically aim to deceive; its comedic effect relies upon the audience appreciating that it is engaged in exaggeration or parody. There is, however, a peculiar genre of Internet pseudo-satire, one that is carefully designed to trick some but not all readers. The joke is on gullible people, who are meant to earnestly share dross and then be snickered at by their savvier social media friends. The goal of pseudo-satire, splitting the audience into savvy jokers and gullible butts-of-jokes, distinguishes it from typical fake news. Typical fake news does not require that any of the audience see through the deception, and of course is usually intended to be believed by as many as possible.

[6] A bullshitter, in the sense identified by Harry Frankfurt (2005), is distinct from a liar. A liar makes claims she knows to be false. A bullshitter makes claims that may or may not be true; she is indifferent to whether they turn out right, though she wants others to believe her regardless. Some creators of fake news, especially those with a commercial motive, are technically bullshitters rather than liars.

[7] Our existing practices for filtering testifiers are defective in a number of ways. One important way is that we tend to allow a person's apparent race or gender to affect the degree of credibility we assign them. This is epistemically non-ideal and a form of injustice (Fricker 2007).

[8] Snopes.com (2016c).

[9] Of course, this does not mean that you should believe the contents of their newsletter. A reliable imperative of city living is to avoid accepting any piece of paper handed out on streetcorners.

[10] Technically, a communicative act isn't testimony at all if the 'speaker' does not intend to imply the truthfulness of what they communicate. So, if "a retweet is not an endorsement" is right, then purportedly factual retweets and shares cannot be testimony. But I will stick with talking about 'testimony,' since we don't yet have another word for ambiguous speech acts that may or may not be testimony depending on as-yet-unsettled communicative norms.

[11] A brief autobiographical digression: I imagine some readers will assume my position is motivated by personal inclination. They will assume that I am a dedicated partisan seeking to vindicate my own opposition-flaying practices. But the truth is the opposite. My own inclinations are anti-partisan; I tend to irritate comrades by policing their insufficient interpretive charity toward our opponents. I am perhaps less inclined than most to engage in partisan epistemic filtering. (One should, of course, be extremely cautious about introspectively attributing exceptional epistemic practices to oneself (Kruger and Dunning 1999; Pronin et al. 2002). What I claim here is based upon others' frustrated descriptions of my disappointingly unpartisan responses.) In fact, I argue elsewhere that we have strong moral duties to aim to understand, and even empathize with, those with whom we disagree on moral and political topics. Hence the position I defend here is not a natural one for me to take. My motivation for adopting it is a second-order extension of my commitment to empathizing with those with whom I disagree; here I am trying to empathize with those who disagree with me about the practice of political disagreement!

[12] See Hills (2009) for challenges to moral testimony, and Sliwa (2012) for a defense.

[13] Sarah McGrath (2007) challenges Elga on this point: she notes that even if Ann and Beth disagree on issues adjacent to abortion, they probably agree on many background moral beliefs about e.g., lying, murder, slavery, etc. Given the great frequency with which they do agree, Ann should regard Beth as a peer after all. For my part, I'm not sure. It's not clear that we have guidelines for which or how many topics should count as "related" when we assess peerhood with respect to a particular judgment. I can't settle that here.

[14] The term 'credibility excess' comes from Fricker (2007), though Fricker herself argues that epistemic injustice is primarily a problem of credibility deficit. But see Medina (2011) and Davis (2016) for different views.

[15] At extremes, partisan fragmentation risks undermining the sharing of normative reasons that is essential to democratic citizenship. See Lynch (2016, chapter 3) for worries about the Internet's role in accelerating this trend.

[16] I am not denying that individual people can improve their personal practices for using social media. One easy improvement is to discredit links to news sources with a history of misleading or false reporting. Two prominent lists of these sources are available from Zimdars (2016) and Brayton (2016).

[17] See Mosseri (2016).

[18] A complication: what if I want to share a story that I know is false, precisely in order to explicitly alert my audience to its falseness? How would the Reputation Score algorithm avoid counting this against me? One solution might be to allow me to attach a disputed flag to a link myself as I post it, thus explicitly signaling that I am not endorsing the story. Such pre-tagged disputed stories would not count against one's Reputation Score.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Fake News and Partisan Epistemology - Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
by Regina Rini ABSTRACT. This paper does four things: (1) It provides an analysis of the concept 'fake news.' (2) It identifies distinctive epistemic features of social media testimony. (3) It argues that partisanship-in-testimony-reception is not always epistemically vicious; in fact some forms of partisanship are consistent with individual epistemic virtue.

# data[].attributes.body
If a friend or stranger tells me that lying to protect someone’s feelings is morally permissible, should I believe her? This essay explores whether testimony can or cannot result in moral knowledge.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
1000-Word Philosophy: An Introductory Anthology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
We often trust each other to provide information about the world. What is the weather like? Are the noodles good here? What is the best way to get downtown without a car? We routinely ask these sorts of questions and rely on the responses of friends, acquaintances, and even strangers.

This essay will explore whether we can do the same for moral questions. If a friend or stranger tells me that lying to protect someone's feelings is morally permissible, should I believe her? Many philosophers who have considered this sort of question have been uneasy with the idea that anyone should accept another's assessment of a moral issue in the same way that we think it is perfectly fine to accept an assessment of weather or noodles, while others argue that this unease is unwarranted.

Suppose we ask the question this way: can moral testimony result in moral knowledge? That is, can someone telling me that lying to protect someone's feelings is morally permissible justify my believing that this is so? Some philosophers say 'yes,' some say 'no,' and here I lay out each basic position.

1. Option 1: No, moral testimony cannot result in moral knowledge.

This is the most common answer to the question among philosophers. To see some of the appeal of this answer, consider an example, due to McGrath (2009). Suppose I want to know whether eating meat is morally permissible. I could think about it myself, read up on the issue, and make my own decision. Or I could just ask my friend and believe whatever she tells me to believe. If I take the latter route, am I now entitled to believe that eating meat is not okay? It does not seem like I am. In terms of our question from before, I will not have moral knowledge on this question even if my belief turns out to be correct.

If it is true that I will not have moral knowledge even if I get things right, what explains this? The main answer philosophers have given is something like this: part of what it means to be justified in believing a moral proposition is that one understands the moral reasons behind it (cf. Hopkins (2007) and Nickel (2001)). Imagine asking a person why she believes some proposition. If she believes that it is raining, we would accept as an answer that her colleague told her so. If she believes that eating meat is not okay, we should not accept the explanation that a colleague told her so as a final answer. Instead we would want her to explain the reasons to believe this rather than an alternative position. Part of what is going on here is that exchanging reasons and arguments seems like a very important part of moral engagement. We can and should seek out advice on moral issues, but we should not accept wholesale the judgments of others (See Wolff (1970)).

Recall that I had phrased the question initially as asking whether a person can gain moral knowledge as a result of accepting testimony, but then I started talking about understanding, not knowledge. Hills argues that moral testimony can sometimes result in moral knowledge, but that it cannot result in moral understanding for the reasons already explored above. ¹ So it may turn out that the terms of this debate need refinement, but the general views expressed by the people I have grouped together in this section are similarly cautious about the role of moral testimony.

2. Option 2: Yes, moral testimony can result in moral knowledge.

Note that this option does not require that moral testimony always, or even usually, results in moral knowledge. It means that moral testimony may, under some conditions, be able to justify moral knowledge. Karen Jones (1999) approaches this question by suggesting that our reactions to some cases of trusting someone else on a moral question are not as clear as others.

Here is a variation of Jones's example. Ted is at a party with Sally. As they walk home, Sally notes that one of the party-goers made her uncomfortable. Pressed to say why, she finds it difficult to explain that he did not seem to respect her or other women at the party, that he made some offhand comments she interpreted as sexist, and so on. Ted was with Sally all night, but did not notice any of this. Should Ted believe that the party-goer has behaved in a morally objectionable way? What if, instead of a single meeting, Sally is talking about a work colleague she interacts with often? Jones thinks that it would be inappropriate for Ted not to trust Sally on this matter, all else being equal, because Sally is a sort of expert on identifying sexism.

Sliwa (2012) provides two sorts of reasons why we might be justified in a moral belief on the basis of testimony. First, we might be concerned about our own ability to judge fairly because of bias. Second, there might be some people who are better equipped to make certain kinds of moral judgments. ² These two reasons account for the above case pretty well. Ted, knowing that he is likely subject to both implicit biases and privilege, should be concerned about his ability to recognize and judge the behavior of others in this area. He may also think that Sally, having experienced sexism in a more systematic way, will be more adept than him at picking out problematic behavior. This explanation also deals nicely with the cases where it does not seem like testimony can result in knowledge, like the meat-eating example above, because I am as capable of working out the answer as my friend.

3. Conclusion

This topic is a relatively new one in philosophy, and there is a lot of work still to do. I invite the reader to review some of the references below and consider the role testimony should play in her own moral thought.

¹ Some philosophers distinguish between knowledge and understanding. For example, you might know a physics formula without really understanding why it has this constant rather than that one, or why it adds here instead of subtracts. Understanding suggests some deeper grasp of the topic than does knowledge. See Kvanvig and Hills for more on understanding as it contrasts with knowledge.

² See Driver for more on this point.

References

McGrath, Sarah. 2009. "The Puzzle of Pure Moral Deference." Philosophical Perspectives. Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

Wolff, Robert Paul. 1970. In Defense of Anarchism. Accessed online: http://www.ditext.com/wolff/anarchy.html

Related Essays

Take My Word for It: On Testimony by Spencer Case

Epistemic Justification: What is Rational Belief? by Todd R. Long

Indoctrination: What is it to Indoctrinate Someone? by Chris Ranalli

The Epistemology of Disagreement by Jonathan Matheson

About the Author

Annaleigh has a JD from Harvard Law School, a Ph.D. in Philosophy from the University of Colorado at Boulder, a Graduate Certificate in Women and Gender Studies from CU Boulder, and a B.A. in Philosophy from Washburn University. She is a practicing attorney in Boston; her focus is intellectual property litigation. Her academic interests include social epistemology, moral epistemology and methodology, feminist philosophy, and philosophy of law. papers.ssrn.com/sol3/cf_dev/AbsByAuth.cfm?per_id=2361641

Follow 1000-Word Philosophy on and and subscribe to receive email notifications of new essays at 1000WordPhilosophy.com

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Author: Annaleigh Curtis Category: Epistemology, Ethics Word Count: 957 We often trust each other to provide information about the world. What is the weather like? Are the noodles good here? What is the best way to get downtown without a car? We routinely ask these sorts of questions and rely on the responses of friends,...

# data[].attributes.body
Explains ethics from three areas of study: normative ethics, metaethics and applied ethics.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Philosophy of Ethics and Morality - Introduction to Ethics (Moral Philosophy) - What is Ethics?

# data[].attributes.headline
4.3 Semester Ethics Course Condensed (Part 1 of 2)

# data[].attributes.subject
4.3 Semester Ethics Course Condensed (Part 1 of 2)

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores questions like what is the morally right thing to do? Is there some moral law that applies to everyone, or is morality relative in some way? And what’s so good about morality anyway? Part 1 of this video will cover utilitarianism, deontology, and virtue ethics.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Semester Ethics Course condensed into 22mins (Part 1 of 2)

# data[].attributes.headline
4.4 Semester Ethics Course Condensed (Part 2 of 2)

# data[].attributes.subject
4.4 Semester Ethics Course Condensed (Part 2 of 2)

# data[].attributes.body
Part 2 of this video will cover Nietzsche's critique of morality, and the debate between Hume and Locke on the existence and origin of moral facts.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Semester Ethics Course condensed (Part 2 of 2)

# data[].attributes.body
This article introduces readers to various schools of consequentialism, a moral school that emphasises that the moral rightness of acts lie in the consequences of the act.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Consequentialism, as its name suggests, is simply the view that
normative properties depend only on consequences. This historically
important and still popular theory embodies the basic intuition that
what is best or right is whatever makes the world best in the future,
because we cannot change the…

# data[].attributes.body
This article itnroduces the reader to the concept of deontology, that emphasises that our moral decisions ought to be guided by principles and duties on what to do and what to avoid.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Because deontological theories are best understood in contrast to consequentialist ones, a brief look at consequentialism and a survey of the problems with it that motivate its deontological opponents, provides a helpful prelude to taking up deontological theories themselves. Consequentialists hold that choices-acts and/or intentions-are to be morally assessed solely by the states of affairs they bring about. Consequentialists thus must specify initially the states of affairs that are intrinsically valuable-often called, collectively, "the Good." They then are in a position to assert that whatever choices increase the Good, that is, bring about more of it, are the choices that it is morally right to make and to execute. (The Good in that sense is said to be prior to "the Right.")

Consequentialists can and do differ widely in terms of specifying the Good. Some consequentialists are monists about the Good. Utilitarians, for example, identify the Good with pleasure, happiness, desire satisfaction, or "welfare" in some other sense. Other consequentialists are pluralists regarding the Good. Some of such pluralists believe that how the Good is distributed among persons (or all sentient beings) is itself partly constitutive of the Good, whereas conventional utilitarians merely add or average each person's share of the Good to achieve the Good's maximization.

Moreover, there are some consequentialists who hold that the doing or refraining from doing, of certain kinds of acts are themselves intrinsically valuable states of affairs constitutive of the Good. An example of this is the positing of rights not being violated, or duties being kept, as part of the Good to be maximized-the so-called "utilitarianism of rights" (Nozick 1974).

None of these pluralist positions erase the difference between consequentialism and deontology. For the essence of consequentialism is still present in such positions: an action would be right only insofar as it maximizes these Good-making states of affairs being caused to exist.

However much consequentialists differ about what the Good consists in, they all agree that the morally right choices are those that increase (either directly or indirectly) the Good. Moreover, consequentialists generally agree that the Good is "agent-neutral" (Parfit 1984; Nagel 1986). That is, valuable states of affairs are states of affairs that all agents have reason to achieve without regard to whether such states of affairs are achieved through the exercise of one's own agency or not.

Consequentialism is frequently criticized on a number of grounds. Two of these are particularly apt for revealing the temptations motivating the alternative approach to deontic ethics that is deontology. The two criticisms pertinent here are that consequentialism is, on the one hand, overly demanding, and, on the other hand, that it is not demanding enough. The criticism regarding extreme demandingness runs like this: for consequentialists, there is no realm of moral permissions, no realm of going beyond one's moral duty (supererogation), no realm of moral indifference. All acts are seemingly either required or forbidden. And there also seems to be no space for the consequentialist in which to show partiality to one's own projects or to one's family, friends, and countrymen, leading some critics of consequentialism to deem it a profoundly alienating and perhaps self-effacing moral theory (Williams 1973).

On the other hand, consequentialism is also criticized for what it seemingly permits. It seemingly demands (and thus, of course, permits) that in certain circumstances innocents be killed, beaten, lied to, or deprived of material goods to produce greater benefits for others. Consequences-and only consequences-can conceivably justify any kind of act, for it does not matter how harmful it is to some so long as it is more beneficial to others.

A well-worn example of this over-permissiveness of consequentialism is that of a case standardly called, Transplant. A surgeon has five patients dying of organ failure and one healthy patient whose organs can save the five. In the right circumstances, surgeon will be permitted (and indeed required) by consequentialism to kill the healthy patient to obtain his organs, assuming there are no relevant consequences other than the saving of the five and the death of the one. Likewise, consequentialism will permit (in a case that we shall call, Fat Man) that a fat man be pushed in front of a runaway trolley if his being crushed by the trolley will halt its advance towards five workers trapped on the track. We shall return to these examples later on.

Consequentialists are of course not bereft of replies to these two criticisms. Some retreat from maximizing the Good to "satisficing"-that is, making the achievement of only a certain level of the Good mandatory (Slote 1984). This move opens up some space for personal projects and relationships, as well as a realm of the morally permissible. It is not clear, however, that satisficing is adequately motivated, except to avoid the problems of maximizing. Nor is it clear that the level of mandatory satisficing can be nonarbitrarily specified, or that satisficing will not require deontological constraints to protect satisficers from maximizers.

Another move is to introduce a positive/negative duty distinction within consequentialism. On this view, our (negative) duty is not to make the world worse by actions having bad consequences; lacking is a corresponding (positive) duty to make the world better by actions having good consequences (Bentham 1789 (1948); Quinton 2007). We thus have a consequentialist duty not to kill the one in Transplant or in Fat Man; and there is no counterbalancing duty to save five that overrides this. Yet as with the satisficing move, it is unclear how a consistent consequentialist can motivate this restriction on all-out optimization of the Good.

Yet another idea popular with consequentialists is to move from consequentialism as a theory that directly assesses acts to consequentialism as a theory that directly assesses rules -or character-trait inculcation-and assesses acts only indirectly by reference to such rules (or character-traits) (Alexander 1985). Its proponents contend that indirect consequentialism can avoid the criticisms of direct (act) consequentialism because it will not legitimate egregious violations of ordinary moral standards-e.g., the killing of the innocent to bring about some better state of affairs-nor will it be overly demanding and thus alienating each of us from our own projects.

The relevance here of these defensive maneuvers by consequentialists is their common attempt to mimic the intuitively plausible aspects of a non-consequentialist, deontological approach to ethics. For as we shall now explore, the strengths of deontological approaches lie: (1) in their categorical prohibition of actions like the killing of innocents, even when good consequences are in the offing; and (2) in their permission to each of us to pursue our own projects free of any constant demand that we shape those projects so as to make everyone else well off.

Having now briefly taken a look at deontologists' foil, consequentialist theories of right action, we turn now to examine deontological theories. In contrast to consequentialist theories, deontological theories judge the morality of choices by criteria different from the states of affairs those choices bring about. The most familiar forms of deontology, and also the forms presenting the greatest contrast to consequentialism, hold that some choices cannot be justified by their effects-that no matter how morally good their consequences, some choices are morally forbidden. On such familiar deontological accounts of morality, agents cannot make certain wrongful choices even if by doing so the number of those exact kinds of wrongful choices will be minimized (because other agents will be prevented from engaging in similar wrongful choices). For such deontologists, what makes a choice right is its conformity with a moral norm. Such norms are to be simply obeyed by each moral agent; such norm-keepings are not to be maximized by each agent. In this sense, for such deontologists, the Right is said to have priority over the Good. If an act is not in accord with the Right, it may not be undertaken, no matter the Good that it might produce (including even a Good consisting of acts in accordance with the Right).

Analogously, deontologists typically supplement non-consequentialist obligations with non-consequentialist permissions (Scheffler 1982). That is, certain actions can be right even though not maximizing of good consequences, for the rightness of such actions consists in their instantiating certain norms (here, of permission and not of obligation). Such actions are permitted, not just in the weak sense that there is no obligation not to do them, but also in the strong sense that one is permitted to do them even though they are productive of less good consequences than their alternatives (Moore 2008). Such strongly permitted actions include actions one is obligated to do, but (importantly) also included are actions one is not obligated to do. It is this last feature of such actions that warrants their separate mention for deontologists.

The most traditional mode of taxonomizing deontological theories is to divide them between agent-centered versus victim-centered (or "patient-centered") theories (Scheffler 1988; Kamm 2007). Consider first agent-centered deontological theories. According to agent-centered theories, we each have both permissions and obligations that give us agent-relative reasons for action. An agent-relative reason is an objective reason, just as are agent neutral reasons; neither is to be confused with either the relativistic reasons of a relativist meta-ethics, nor with the subjective reasons that form the nerve of psychological explanations of human action (Nagel 1986). An agent-relative reason is so-called because it is a reason relative to the agent whose reason it is; it need not (although it may) constitute a reason for anyone else. Thus, an agent-relative obligation is an obligation for a particular agent to take or refrain from taking some action; and because it is agent-relative, the obligation does not necessarily give anyone else a reason to support that action. Each parent, for example, is commonly thought to have such special obligations to his/her child, obligations not shared by anyone else. Likewise, an agent-relative permission is a permission for some agent to do some act even though others may not be permitted to aid that agent in the doing of his permitted action. Each parent, to revert to the same example, is commonly thought to be permitted (at the least) to save his own child even at the cost of not saving two other children to whom he has no special relation. Agent-centered theories and the agent-relative reasons on which they are based not only enjoin each of us to do or not to do certain things; they also instruct me to treat my friends, my family, my promisees in certain ways because they are mine, even if by neglecting them I could do more for others' friends, families, and promisees.

At the heart of agent-centered theories (with their agent-relative reasons) is the idea of agency. The moral plausibility of agent-centered theories is rooted here. The idea is that morality is intensely personal, in the sense that we are each enjoined to keep our own moral house in order. Our categorical obligations are not to focus on how our actions cause or enable other agents to do evil; the focus of our categorical obligations is to keep our own agency free of moral taint.

Each agent's distinctive moral concern with his/her own agency puts some pressure on agent-centered theories to clarify how and when our agency is or is not involved in various situations. Agent-centered theories famously divide between those that emphasize the role of intention or other mental states in constituting the morally important kind of agency, and those that emphasize the actions of agents as playing such a role. There are also agent-centered theories that emphasize both intentions and actions equally in constituting the morally relevant agency of persons.

On the first of these three agent-relative views, it is most commonly asserted that it is our intended ends and intended means that most crucially define our agency. Such intentions mark out what it is we set out to achieve through our actions. If we intend something bad as an end, or even as a means to some more beneficent end, we are said to have "set ourselves at evil," something we are categorically forbidden to do (Aquinas Summa Theologica).

Three items usefully contrasted with such intentions are belief, risk, and cause. If we predict that an act of ours will result in evil, such prediction is a cognitive state (of belief); it is not a conative state of intention to bring about such a result, either as an end in itself or as a means to some other end. In this case, our agency is involved only to the extent that we have shown ourselves as being willing to tolerate evil results flowing from our acts; but we have not set out to achieve such evil by our acts. Likewise, a risking and/or causing of some evil result is distinct from any intention to achieve it. We can intend such a result, and we can even execute such an intention so that it becomes a trying, without in fact either causing or even risking it. (It is, however, true that we must believe we are risking the result to some extent, however minimal, for the result to be what we intend to bring about by our act.) Also, we can cause or risk such results without intending them. For example, we can intend to kill and even try to kill someone without killing him; and we can kill him without intending or trying to kill him, as when we kill accidentally. Intending thus does not collapse into risking, causing, or predicting; and on the version of agent-centered deontology here considered, it is intending (or perhaps trying) alone that marks the involvement of our agency in a way so as to bring agent-centered obligations and permissions into play.

Deontologists of this stripe are committed to something like the doctrine of double effect, a long-established doctrine of Catholic theology (Woodward 2001). The Doctrine in its most familiar form asserts that we are categorically forbidden to intend evils such as killing the innocent or torturing others, even though doing such acts would minimize the doing of like acts by others (or even ourselves) in the future. By contrast, if we only risk, cause, or predict that our acts will have consequences making them acts of killing or of torture, then we might be able to justify the doing of such acts by the killing/torture-minimizing consequences of such actions. Whether such distinctions are plausible is standardly taken to measure the plausibility of an intention-focused version of the agent-centered version of deontology.

There are other versions of mental-state focused agent relativity that do not focus on intentions (Hurd 1994). Some of these versions focus on predictive belief as much as on intention (at least when the belief is of a high degree of certainty). Other versions focus on intended ends ("motives") alone. Still others focus on the deliberative processes that precede the formation of intentions, so that even to contemplate the doing of an evil act impermissibly invokes our agency (Anscombe 1958; Geach 1969; Nagel 1979). But intention-focused versions are the most familiar versions of so-called "inner wickedness" versions of agent-centered deontology.

The second kind of agent-centered deontology is one focused on actions, not mental states. Such a view can concede that all human actions must originate with some kind of mental state, often styled a volition or a willing; such a view can even concede that volitions or willings are an intention of a certain kind (Moore 1993, Ch. 6). Indeed, such source of human actions in willing is what plausibly connects actions to the agency that is of moral concern on the agent-centered version of deontology. Yet to will the movement of a finger on a trigger is distinct from an intention to kill a person by that finger movement. The act view of agency is thus distinct from the intentions (or other mental state) view of agency.

On this view, our agent-relative obligations and permissions have as their content certain kinds of actions: we are obligated not to kill innocents for example. The killing of an innocent of course requires that there be a death of such innocent, but there is no agency involved in mere events such as deaths. Needed for there to be a killing are two other items. One we remarked on before: the action of the putative agent must have its source in a willing. But the other maker of agency here is more interesting for present purposes: the willing must cause the death of the innocent for an act to be a killing of such innocent. Much (on this view) is loaded into the requirement of causation.

First, causings of evils like deaths of innocents are commonly distinguished from omissions to prevent such deaths. Holding a baby's head under water until it drowns is a killing; seeing a baby lying face down in a puddle and doing nothing to save it when one could do so easily is a failure to prevent its death. Our categorical obligations are usually negative in content: we are not to kill the baby. We may have an obligation to save it, but this will not be an agent-relative obligation, on the view here considered, unless we have some special relationship to the baby.

Second, causings are distinguished from allowings. In a narrow sense of the word we will here stipulate, one allows a death to occur when: (1) one's action merely removes a defense the victim otherwise would have had against death; and (2) such removal returns the victim to some morally appropriate baseline (Kamm 1994, 1996; MacMahan 2003). Thus, mercy-killings, or euthanasia, are outside of our deontological obligations (and thus eligible for justification by good consequences) so long as one's act: (1) only removes a defense against death that the agent herself had earlier provided, such as disconnecting medical equipment that is keeping the patient alive when that disconnecting is done by the medical personnel that attached the patient to the equipment originally; and (2) the equipment could justifiably have been hooked up to another patient, where it could do some good, had the doctors known at the time of connection what they know at the time of disconnection.

Third, one is said not to cause an evil such as a death when one's acts merely enable (or aid) some other agent to cause such evil (Hart and Honore 1985). Thus, one is not categorically forbidden to drive the terrorists to where they can kill the policeman (if the alternative is death of one's family), even though one would be categorically forbidden to kill the policeman oneself (even where the alternative is death of one's family) (Moore 2008). Nor is one categorically forbidden to select which of a group of villagers shall be unjustly executed by another who is pursuing his own purposes (Williams 1973).

Fourth, one is said not to cause an evil such as a death when one merely redirects a presently existing threat to many so that it now threatens only one (or a few) (Thomson 1985). In the time-honored example of the run-away trolley (Trolley), one may turn a trolley so that it runs over one trapped workman so as to save five workmen trapped on the other track, even though it is not permissible for an agent to have initiated the movement of the trolley towards the one to save five (Foot 1967; Thomson 1985).

Fifth, our agency is said not to be involved in mere accelerations of evils about to happen anyway, as opposed to causing such evils by doing acts necessary for such evils to occur (G. Williams 1961; Brody 1996). Thus, when a victim is about to fall to his death anyway, dragging a rescuer with him too, the rescuer may cut the rope connecting them. Rescuer is accelerating, but not causing, the death that was about to occur anyway.

All of these last five distinctions have been suggested to be part and parcel of another centuries-old Catholic doctrine, that of the doctrine of doing and allowing (see the entry on doing vs. allowing harm) (Moore 2008; Kamm 1994; Foot 1967; Quinn 1989). According to this doctrine, one may not cause death, for that would be a killing, a "doing;" but one may fail to prevent death, allow (in the narrow sense) death to occur, enable another to cause death, redirect a life-threatening item from many to one, or accelerate a death about to happen anyway, if good enough consequences are in the offing. As with the Doctrine of Double Effect, how plausible one finds these applications of the doctrine of doing and allowing will determine how plausible one finds this cause-based view of human agency.

A third kind of agent-centered deontology can be obtained by simply conjoining the other two agent-centered views (Hurd 1994). This view would be that agency in the relevant sense requires both intending and causing (i.e., acting) (Moore 2008). On this view, our agent-relative obligations do not focus on causings or intentions separately; rather, the content of such obligations is focused on intended causings. For example, our deontological obligation with respect to human life is neither an obligation not to kill nor an obligation not to intend to kill; rather, it is an obligation not to murder, that is, to kill in execution of an intention to kill.

By requiring both intention and causings to constitute human agency, this third view avoids the seeming overbreadth of our obligations if either intention or action alone marked such agency. Suppose our agent-relative obligation were not to do some action such as kill an innocent -is that obligation breached by a merely negligent killing, so that we deserve the serious blame of having breached such a categorical norm (Hurd 1994)? (Of course, one might be somewhat blameworthy on consequentialist grounds (Hurd 1995), or perhaps not blameworthy at all (Moore and Hurd 2011).) Alternatively, suppose our agent-relative obligation were not to intend to kill-does that mean we could not justify forming such an intention when good consequences would be the result, and when we are sure we cannot act so as to fulfill such intention (Hurd 1994)? If our agent-relative obligation is neither of these alone, but is rather, that we are not to kill in execution of an intention to kill, both such instances of seeming overbreadth in the reach of our obligations, are avoided.

Whichever of these three agent-centered theories one finds most plausible, they each suffer from some common problems. A fundamental worry is the moral unattractiveness of the focus on self that is the nerve of any agent-centered deontology. The importance of each person's agency to himself/herself has a narcissistic flavor to it that seems unattractive to many. It seemingly justifies each of us keeping our own moral house in order even at the expense of the world becoming much worse. The worry is not that agent-centered deontology is just another form of egoism, according to which the content of one's duties exclusively concern oneself; even so, the character of agent-relative duties is such that they betoken an emphasis on self that is unattractive in the same way that such emphasis makes egoism unattractive. Secondly, many find the distinctions invited by the Doctrine of Double Effect and the (five versions of the) Doctrine of Doing and Allowing to be either morally unattractive or conceptually incoherent. Such critics find the differences between intending/foreseeing, causing/omitting, causing/allowing, causing/enabling, causing/redirecting, causing/accelerating to be morally insignificant. (On act/omission (Rachels 1975); on doing/allowing (Kagan 1989); on intending/foreseeing (Bennett 1981; Davis 1984).) They urge, for example, that failing to prevent a death one could easily prevent is as blameworthy as causing a death, so that a morality that radically distinguishes the two is implausible. Alternatively, such critics urge on conceptual grounds that no clear distinctions can be drawn in these matters, that foreseeing with certainty is indistinguishable from intending (Bennett 1981), that omitting is one kind of causing (Schaffer 2012), and so forth.

Thirdly, there is the worry about "avoision." By casting our categorical obligations in such agent-centered terms, one invites a kind of manipulation that is legalistic and Jesuitical, what Leo Katz dubs "avoision" (Katz 1996). Some think, for example, that one can transform a prohibited intention into a permissible predictive belief (and thus escape intention-focused forms of agent-relative duty) by the simple expedient of finding some other end with which to motivate the action in question.

Such criticisms of the agent-centered view of deontology drive most who accept their force away from deontology entirely and to some form of consequentialism. Alternatively, some of such critics are driven to patient-centered deontology, which we discuss immediately below. Yet still other of such critics attempt to articulate yet a fourth form of agent-centered deontology. This might be called the "control theory of agency." On this view, our agency is invoked whenever our choices could have made a difference. This cuts across the intention/foresight, act/omission, and doing/allowing distinctions, because in all cases we controlled what happened through our choices (Frey 1995). Yet as an account of deontology, this seems worrisomely broad. It disallows consequentialist justifications whenever: we foresee the death of an innocent; we omit to save, where our saving would have made a difference and we knew it; where we remove a life-saving device, knowing the patient will die. If deontological norms are so broad in content as to cover all these foreseeings, omittings, and allowings, then good consequences (such as a net saving of innocent lives) are ineligible to justify them. This makes for a wildly counterintuitive deontology: surely I can, for example, justify not throwing the rope to one (and thus omit to save him) in order to save two others equally in need. This breadth of obligation also makes for a conflict-ridden deontology: by refusing to cabin our categorical obligations by the distinctions of the Doctrine of Double Effect and the Doctrine of Doing and Allowing, situations of conflict between our stringent obligations proliferate in a troublesome way (Anscombe 1962).

A second group of deontological moral theories can be classified, as patient-centered, as distinguished from the agent-centered version of deontology just considered. These theories are rights-based rather than duty-based; and some versions purport to be quite agent-neutral in the reasons they give moral agents.

All patient-centered deontological theories are properly characterized as theories premised on people's rights. An illustrative version posits, as its core right, the right against being used only as means for producing good consequences without one's consent. Such a core right is not to be confused with more discrete rights, such as the right against being killed, or being killed intentionally. It is a right against being used by another for the user's or others' benefit. More specifically, this version of patient-centered deontological theories proscribes the using of another's body, labor, and talent without the latter's consent. One finds this notion expressed, albeit in different ways, in the work of the so-called Right Libertarians (e.g., Robert Nozick, Eric Mack), but also in the works of the Left-Libertarians as well (e.g., Michael Otsuka, Hillel Steiner, Peter Vallentyne) (Nozick 1974; Mack 2000; Steiner 1994; Vallentyne and Steiner 2000; Vallentyne, Steiner, and Otsuka 2005). On this view, the scope of strong moral duties-those that are the correlatives of others' rights-is jurisdictionally limited and does not extend to resources for producing the Good that would not exist in the absence of those intruded upon-that is, their bodies, labors, and talents. In addition to the Libertarians, others whose views include this prohibition on using others include Quinn, Kamm, Alexander, Ferzan, Gauthier, and Walen (Quinn 1989; Kamm 1996; Alexander 2016; Alexander and Ferzan 2009, 2012; Gauthier 1986; Walen 2014, 2016).

Just as do agent-centered theories, so too do patient-centered theories (such as that forbidding the using of another) seek to explain common intuitions about such classic hypothetical cases as Trolley and Transplant (or Fat Man) (Thomson 1985). In Trolley, a runaway trolley will kill five workers unless diverted to a siding where it will kill one worker. Most people regard it as permissible and perhaps mandatory to switch the trolley to the siding. By contrast, in Transplant, where a surgeon can kill one healthy patient and transplant his organs to five dying patients, thereby saving their lives, the universal reaction is condemnation. (The same is by-and-large true in Fat Man, where the runaway trolley cannot be switched off the main track but can be stopped before reaching the five workers by pushing a fat man into its path, resulting in his death.)

The injunction against using arguably accounts for these contrasting reactions. After all, in each example, one life is sacrificed to save five. Yet there appears to be a difference in the means through which the net four lives are saved. In Transplant (and Fat Man), the doomed person is used to benefit the others. They could not be saved in the absence of his body. In Trolley, on the other hand, the doomed victim is not used. The workers would be saved whether or not he is present on the second track.

Notice, too, that this patient-centered libertarian version of deontology handles Trolley, Transplant et al. differently from how they are handled by agent-centered versions. The latter focus on the agent's mental state or on whether the agent acted or caused the victim's harm. The patient-centered theory focuses instead on whether the victim's body, labor, or talents were the means by which the justifying results were produced. So one who realizes that by switching the trolley he can save five trapped workers and place only one in mortal danger-and that the danger to the latter is not the means by which the former will be saved-acts permissibly on the patient-centered view if he switches the trolley even if he does so with the intention of killing the one worker. Switching the trolley is causally sufficient to bring about the consequences that justify the act-the saving of net four workers- and it is so even in the absence of the one worker's body, labor, or talents. (The five would be saved if the one escaped, was never on the track, or did not exist.) By contrast, on the intent and intended action versions of agent-centered theories, the one who switches the trolley does not act permissibly if he acts with the intention to harm the one worker. (This could be the case, for example, when the one who switches the trolley does so to kill the one whom he hates, only knowing that he will thereby save the other five workmen.) On the patient-centered version, if an act is otherwise morally justifiable by virtue of its balance of good and bad consequences, and the good consequences are achieved without the necessity of using anyone's body, labor, or talents without that person's consent as the means by which they are achieved, then it is morally immaterial (to the permissibility of the act but not to the culpability of the actor) whether someone undertakes that act with the intention to achieve its bad consequences. (This is true, of course, only so long as the concept of using does not implicitly refer to the intention of the user) (Alexander 2016). And in assessing the culpability of risky conduct, any good consequences must be discounted, not only by the perceived risk that they will not occur, but also by the perceived risk that they will be brought about by a using; for any such consequences, however good they otherwise are, cannot be considered in determining the permissibility and, derivatively, the culpability of acts (Alexander 2016).

Patient-centered deontologists handle differently other stock examples of the agent-centered deontologist. Take the acceleration cases as an example. When all will die in a lifeboat unless one is killed and eaten; when Siamese twins are conjoined such that both will die unless the organs of one are given to the other via an operation that kills the first; when all of a group of soldiers will die unless the body of one is used to hold down the enemy barbed wire, allowing the rest to save themselves; when a group of villagers will all be shot by a blood-thirsty tyrant unless they select one of their numbers to slake the tyrants lust for death-in all such cases, the causing/accelerating-distinguishing agent-centered deontologists would permit the killing but the usings-focused patient-centered deontologist would not. (For the latter, all killings are merely accelerations of death.)

The restriction of deontological duties to usings of another raises a sticky problem for those patient-centered deontological theories that are based on the core right against using: how can they account for the prima facie wrongs of killing, injuring, and so forth when done not to use others as means, but for some other purpose or for no purpose at all? The answer is that such patient-centered deontological constraints must be supplemented by consequentialist-derived moral norms to give an adequate account of morality. Killing, injuring, and so forth will usually be unjustifiable on a consequentialist calculus, especially if everyone's interests are given equal regard. It is when killing and injuring are otherwise justifiable that the deontological constraint against using has its normative bite over and against what is already prohibited by consequentialism. (This narrowness of patient-centered deontology makes it counterintuitive to agent-centered deontologists, who regard prohibitions on killing of the innocent, etc., as paradigmatically deontological.)

The patient-centered version of deontology is aptly labeled libertarian in that it is not plausible to conceive of not being aided as being used by the one not aiding. Using is an action, not a failure to act. More generally, it is counterintuitive to many to think that any of us have a right to be aided. For if there were a strong (that is, enforceable or coercible) duty to aid others, such that, for example, A had a duty to aid X, Y, and Z; and if A could more effectively aid X, Y, and Z by coercing B and C to aid them (as is their duty), then A would have a duty to "use" B and C in this way. For these reasons, any positive duties will not be rights-based ones on the view here considered; they will be consequentially-justified duties that can be trumped by the right not to be coerced to perform them.

Patient-centered deontological theories are often conceived in agent-neutral reason-giving terms. John has a right to the exclusive use of his body, labor, and talents, and such a right gives everyone equal reason to do actions respecting it. But this aspect of patient-centered deontological theories gives rise to a particularly virulent form of the so-called paradox of deontology (Scheffler 1988; Heuer 2011)-that if respecting Mary's and Susan's rights is as important morally as is protecting John's rights, then why isn't violating John's rights permissible (or even obligatory) when doing so is necessary to protect Mary's and Susan's rights from being violated by others? Patient-centered deontological theories might arguably do better if they abandoned their pretense of being agent-neutral. They could conceive of rights as giving agent-relative reasons to each actor to refrain from doing actions violative of such rights. Take the core right against being used without one's consent hypothesized earlier. The correlative duty is not to use another without his consent. If such duty is agent-relative, then the rights-based deontologist (no less than the agent-centered deontologist) has the conceptual resources to answer the paradox of deontology. That is, each of us may not use John, even when such using of John would minimize usings of John by others in the future. Such duties are personal to each of us in that we may not justify our violating such a duty now by preventing others' similar violations in the future. Such personal duties are agent-centered in the sense that the agency of each person is central to the duties of each person, so that your using of another now cannot be traded off against other possible usings at other times by other people.

Patient-centered deontologies are thus arguably better construed to be agent-relative in the reasons they give. Even so construed, such deontologies join agent-centered deontologies in facing the moral (rather than the conceptual) versions of the paradox of deontology. For a critic of either form of deontology might respond to the categorical prohibition about using others as follows: If usings are bad, then are not more usings worse than fewer? And if so, then is it not odd to condemn acts that produce better states of affairs than would occur in their absence? Deontologists of either stripe can just deny that wrong acts on their account of wrongness can be translated into bad states of affairs. Two wrong acts are not "worse" than one. Such wrongs cannot be summed into anything of normative significance. After all, the victim of a rights-violating using may suffer less harm than others might have suffered had his rights not been violated; yet one cannot, without begging the question against deontological constraints, argue that therefore no constraint should block minimizing harm. That is, the deontologist might reject the comparability of states of affairs that involve violations and those that do not. Similarly, the deontologist may reject the comparability of states of affairs that involve more or fewer rights-violations (Brook 2007). The deontologist might attempt to back this assertion by relying upon the separateness of persons. Wrongs are only wrongs to persons. A wrong to Y and a wrong to Z cannot be added to make some greater wrong because there is no person who suffers this greater wrong (cf. Taurek 1977).

This solution to the paradox of deontology, may seem attractive, but it comes at a high cost. In Trolley, for example, where there is neither agency nor using in the relevant senses and thus no bar to switching, one cannot claim that it is better to switch and save the five. For if the deaths of the five cannot be summed, their deaths are not worse than the death of the one worker on the siding. Although there is no deontological bar to switching, neither is the saving of a net four lives a reason to switch. Worse yet, were the trolley heading for the one worker rather than the five, there would be no reason not to switch the trolley, so a net loss of four lives is no reason not to switch the trolley. If the numbers don't count, they seemingly don't count either way.

The problem of how to account for the significance of numbers without giving up deontology and adopting consequentialism, and without resurrecting the paradox of deontology, is one that a number of deontologists are now working to solve (e.g., Kamm 1996; Scanlon 2003; Otsuka 2006, Hsieh et al. 2006). Until it is solved, it will remain a huge thorn in the deontologist's side.

Somewhat orthogonal to the distinction between agent-centered versus patient-centered deontological theories are contractualist deontological theories. Morally wrong acts are, on such accounts, those acts that would be forbidden by principles that people in a suitably described social contract would accept (e.g., Rawls 1971; Gauthier 1986), or that would be forbidden only by principles that such people could not "reasonably reject" (e.g., Scanlon 2003).

In deontology, as elsewhere in ethics, is not entirely clear whether a contractualist account is really normative as opposed to metaethical. If such account is a first order normative account, it is probably best construed as a patient-centered deontology; for the central obligation would be to do onto others only that to which they have consented. But so construed, modern contractualist accounts would share the problems that have long bedeviled historical social contract theories: how plausible is it that the "moral magic" of consent is the first principle of morality? And how much of what is commonly regarded as permissible to do to people can (in any realistic sense of the word) be said to be actually consented to by them, expressly or even implicitly?

In fact modern contractualisms look meta-ethical, and not normative. Thomas Scanlon's contractualism, for example, which posits at its core those norms of action that we can justify to each other, is best construed as an ontological and epistemological account of moral notions. The same may be said of David Gauthier's contractualism. Yet so construed, metaethical contractualism as a method for deriving moral norms does not necessarily lead to deontology as a first order ethics. John Harsanyi, for example, argues that parties to the social contract would choose utilitarianism over the principles John Rawls argues would be chosen (Harsanyi 1973). Nor is it clear that meta-ethical contractualism, when it does generate a deontological ethic, favors either an agent centered or a patient centered version of such an ethic.

If any philosopher is regarded as central to deontological moral theories, it is surely Immanuel Kant. Indeed, each of the branches of deontological ethics-the agent-centered, the patient-centered, and the contractualist-can lay claim to being Kantian.

The agent-centered deontologist can cite Kant's locating the moral quality of acts in the principles or maxims on which the agent acts and not primarily in those acts' effects on others. For Kant, the only thing unqualifiedly good is a good will (Kant 1785). The patient-centered deontologist can, of course, cite Kant's injunction against using others as mere means to one's end (Kant 1785). And the contractualist can cite, as Kant's contractualist element, Kant's insistence that the maxims on which one acts be capable of being willed as a universal law-willed by all rational agents (Kant 1785). (See generally the entry on Kant.)

Having canvassed the two main types of deontological theories (together with a contractualist variation of each), it is time to assess deontological morality more generally. On the one hand, deontological morality, in contrast to consequentialism, leaves space for agents to give special concern to their families, friends, and projects. At least that is so if the deontological morality contains no strong duty of general beneficence, or, if it does, it places a cap on that duty's demands. Deontological morality, therefore, avoids the overly demanding and alienating aspects of consequentialism and accords more with conventional notions of our moral duties.

Likewise, deontological moralities, unlike most views of consequentialism, leave space for the supererogatory. A deontologist can do more that is morally praiseworthy than morality demands. A consequentialist cannot, assuming none of the consequentialists' defensive maneuvers earlier referenced work. For such a pure or simple consequentialist, if one's act is not morally demanded, it is morally wrong and forbidden. Whereas for the deontologist, there are acts that are neither morally wrong nor demanded, some-but only some-of which are morally praiseworthy.

As we have seen, deontological theories all possess the strong advantage of being able to account for strong, widely shared moral intuitions about our duties better than can consequentialism. The contrasting reactions to Trolley, Fat Man, Transplant, and other examples earlier given, are illustrative of this.

Finally, deontological theories, unlike consequentialist ones, have the potential for explaining why certain people have moral standing to complain about and hold to account those who breach moral duties. For the moral duties typically thought to be deontological in character-unlike, say, duties regarding the environment-are duties to particular people, not duties to bring about states of affairs that no particular person has an individual right to have realized.

On the other hand, deontological theories have their own weak spots. The most glaring one is the seeming irrationality of our having duties or permissions to make the world morally worse. Deontologists need their own, non-consequentialist model of rationality, one that is a viable alternative to the intuitively plausible, "act-to-produce-the-best-consequences" model of rationality that motivates consequentialist theories. Until this is done, deontology will always be paradoxical. There are several distinct hurdles that the deontologist must overcome.

One hurdle is to confront the apparent fact that careful reflection about the degrees of wrongdoing that are possible under any single moral norm does not make it easy to see deontological morality as consisting of general, canonically-formulated texts (conformity to which could then be said to constitute the distrinct form of practical rationality unique to deontological ethics); rather, such apparently simple texts as, "thou shalt not murder," look more like mere epistemic aids summarizing a much more nuanced and detailed (and thus less text-like) moral reality (Hurd and Moore forthcoming).

A second hurdle is to find an answer to the inevitable question of authority, assuming that there are such general texts. If it is rational to conform one's behavior and one's choices to certain general texts, as deontology claims, it is always in point to demand the reasons making such texts authoritative for one's decisions. Deferring one's own best judgment to the judgment enshrined in some text is always prima facie paradoxical (see the entry on authority) and deontologists like everybody else need to justify such deference. Hopefully they can do so other than by reference to some person-like but omniscient Deity as the supposed source of such texts, because many deontologists cannot accept such theism (Moore 1995). Moreover, even for those with theistic commitments, they may prefer to join Kant's insistence that ethics proceed from reason alone, even in a theistic world.

The third hurdle exists even if the first two are crossed adequately. This hurdle is to deal with the seeming demand of deontological ethics that on occasion one's categorical obligations require one to preserve the purity of one's own moral agency at the cost of having one's actions make the world be in a morally worse state of affairs-at least, "worse" in the agent-neutral sense of the word used by consequentialists. Patient-centered versions of deontology cannot easily escape this problem, as we have shown. It is not even clear that they have the conceptual resources to make agency important enough to escape this moral paradox. Yet even agent-centered versions face this paradox; having the conceptual resources (of agency and agent-relative reasons) is not the same as making it plausible just how a secular, objective morality can allow each person's agency to be so uniquely crucial to that person.

Moreover, it is crucial for deontologists to deal with the conflicts that seem to exist between certain duties, and between certain rights. For more information, please see the entry on moral dilemmas. Kant's bold proclamation that "a conflict of duties is inconceivable" (Kant 1780, p. 25) is the conclusion wanted, but reasons for believing it are difficult to produce. The intending/foreseeing, doing/allowing, causing/aiding, and related distinctions certainly reduce potential conflicts for the agent-centered versions of deontology; whether they can totally eliminate such conflicts is a yet unresolved question.

One well known approach to deal with the possibility of conflict between deontological duties is to reduce the categorical force of such duties to that of only " prima facie" duties (Ross 1930, 1939). This idea is that conflict between merely prima facie duties is unproblematic so long as it does not infect what one is categorically obligated to do, which is what overall, concrete duties mandate. Like other softenings of the categorical force of deontological obligation we mention briefly below (threshold deontology, mixed views), the prima facie duty view is in some danger of collapsing into a kind of consequentialism. This depends on whether " prima facie" is read epistemically or not, and on (1) whether any good consequences are eligible to justify breach of prima facie duties; (2) whether only such consequences over some threshold can do so; or (3) whether only threatened breach of other deontological duties can do so.

Thirdly, there is the manipulability worry mentioned before with respect to agent-centered versions of deontology. To the extent potential conflict is eliminated by resort to the Doctrine of Double Effect, the Doctrine of Doing and Allowing, and so forth (and it is not clear to what extent patient-centered versions rely on these doctrines and distinctions to mitigate potential conflict), then a potential for "avoision" is opened up. Such avoision is the manipulation of means (using omissions, foresight, risk, allowings, aidings, acceleratings, redirectings, etc.) to achieve permissibly what otherwise deontological morality would forbid (see Katz 1996). Avoision is an undesirable feature of any ethical system that allows such strategic manipulation of its doctrines.

Fourth, there is what might be called the paradox of relative stringency. There is an aura of paradox in asserting that all deontological duties are categorical-to be done no matter the consequences-and yet asserting that some of such duties are more stringent than others. A common thought is that "there cannot be degrees of wrongness with intrinsically wrong acts..." (Frey 1995, p. 78, n.3; also Hurka 2019). Yet relative stringency-"degrees of wrongness"-seems forced upon the deontologist by one if not two considerations. First, duties of differential stringency can be weighed against one another if there is conflict between them, so that a conflict-resolving, overall duty becomes possible if duties can be more or less stringent. Second, when we punish for the wrongs consisting in our violation of deontological duties, we (rightly) do not punish all violations equally. The greater the wrong, the greater the punishment deserved; and relative stringency of duty violated (or importance of rights) seems the best way of making sense of greater versus lesser wrongs (Hurd and Moore forthcoming).

Fifth, there are situations-unfortunately not all of them thought experiments-where compliance with deontological norms will bring about disastrous consequences. To take a stock example of much current discussion, suppose that unless A violates the deontological duty not to torture an innocent person ( B), ten, or a thousand, or a million other innocent people will die because of a hidden nuclear device. If A is forbidden by deontological morality from torturing B, many would regard that as a reductio ad absurdum of deontology.

Deontologists have six possible ways of dealing with such "moral catastrophes" (although only two of these are very plausible). First, they can just bite the bullet and declare that sometimes doing what is morally right will have tragic results but that allowing such tragic results to occur is still the right thing to do. Complying with moral norms will surely be difficult on those occasions, but the moral norms apply nonetheless with full force, overriding all other considerations. We might call this the Kantian response, after Kant's famous hyperbole: "Better the whole people should perish," than that injustice be done (Kant 1780, p. 100). One might also call this the absolutist conception of deontology, because such a view maintains that conformity to norms has absolute force and not merely great weight.

This first response to "moral catastrophes," which is to ignore them, might be further justified by denying that moral catastrophes, such as a million deaths, are really a million times more catastrophic than one death. This is the so-called "aggregation" problem, which we alluded to in section 2.2 in discussing the paradox of deontological constraints. John Taurek famously argued that it is a mistake to assume harms to two persons are twice as bad as a comparable harm to one person. For each of the two suffers only his own harm and not the harm of the other (Taurek 1977). Taurek's argument can be employed to deny the existence of moral catastrophes and thus the worry about them that deontologists would otherwise have. Robert Nozick also stresses the separateness of persons and therefore urges that there is no entity that suffers double the harm when each of two persons is harmed (Nozick 1974). (Of course, Nozick, perhaps inconsistently, also acknowledges the existence of moral catastrophes.) Most deontologists reject Taurek's radical conclusion that we need not be morally more obligated to avert harm to the many than to avert harm to the few; but they do accept the notion that harms should not be aggregated. Deontologists' approaches to the nonaggregation problem when the choice is between saving the many and saving the few are: (1) save the many so as to acknowledge the importance of each of the extra persons; (2) conduct a weighted coin flip; (3) flip a coin; or (4) save anyone you want (a denial of moral catastrophes) (Broome 1998; Doggett 2013; Doucet 2013; Dougherty 2013; Halstead 2016: Henning 2015; Hirose 2007, 2015; Hsieh et al. 2006; Huseby 2011; Kamm 1993; Rasmussen 2012; Saunders 2009; Scanlon 2003; Suikkanen 2004; Timmerman 2004; Wasserman and Strudler 2003).

The second plausible response is for the deontologist to abandon Kantian absolutism for what is usually called "threshold deontology." A threshold deontologist holds that deontological norms govern up to a point despite adverse consequences; but when the consequences become so dire that they cross the stipulated threshold, consequentialism takes over (Moore 1997, ch. 17). A may not torture B to save the lives of two others, but he may do so to save a thousand lives if the "threshold" is higher than two lives but lower than a thousand.

There are two varieties of threshold deontology that are worth distinguishing. On the simple version, there is some fixed threshold of awfulness beyond which morality's categorical norms no longer have their overriding force. Such a threshold is fixed in the sense that it does not vary with the stringency of the categorical duty being violated. The alternative is what might be called "sliding scale threshold deontology." On this version, the threshold varies in proportion to the degree of wrong being done-the wrongness of stepping on a snail has a lower threshold (over which the wrong can be justified) than does the wrong of stepping on a baby.

Threshold deontology (of either stripe) is an attempt to save deontological morality from the charge of fanaticism. It is similar to the " prima facie duty" version of deontology developed to deal with the problem of conflicting duties, yet threshold deontology is usually interpreted with such a high threshold that it more closely mimics the outcomes reached by a "pure," absolutist kind of deontology. Threshold deontology faces several theoretical difficulties. Foremost among them is giving a theoretically tenable account of the location of such a threshold, either absolutely or on a sliding scale (Alexander 2000; Ellis 1992; Moore 2019; Arneson 2019; Cole 2019; Alexander 2019). Why is the threshold for torture of the innocent at one thousand lives, say, as opposed to nine hundred or two thousand? Another problem is that whatever the threshold, as the dire consequences approach it, counter-intuitive results appear to follow. For example, it may be permissible, if we are one-life-at-risk short of the threshold, to pull one more person into danger who will then be saved, along with the others at risk, by killing an innocent person (Alexander 2000). Thirdly, there is some uncertainty about how one is to reason after the threshold has been reached: are we to calculate at the margin on straight consequentialist grounds, use an agent-weighted mode of summing, or do something else? A fourth problem is that threshold deontology threatens to collapse into a kind of consequentialism. Indeed, it can be perhaps shown that the sliding scale version of threshold deontology is extensionally equivalent to an agency-weighted form of consequentialism (Sen 1982).

The remaining four strategies for dealing with the problem of dire consequence cases all have the flavor of evasion by the deontologist. Consider first the famous view of Elizabeth Anscombe: such cases (real or imagined) can never present themselves to the consciousness of a truly moral agent because such agent will realize it is immoral to even think about violating moral norms in order to avert disaster (Anscombe 1958; Geach 1969; Nagel 1979). Such rhetorical excesses should be seen for what they are, a peculiar way of stating Kantian absolutism motivated by an impatience with the question.

Another response by deontologists, this one most famously associated with Bernard Williams, shares some of the "don't think about it" features of the Anscombean response. According to Williams (1973), situations of moral horror are simply "beyond morality," and even beyond reason. (This view is reminiscent of the ancient view of natural necessity, revived by Sir Francis Bacon, that such cases are beyond human law and can only be judged by the natural law of instinct.) Williams tells us that in such cases we just act. Interestingly, Williams contemplates that such "existentialist" decision-making will result in our doing what we have to do in such cases-for example, we torture the innocent to prevent nuclear holocaust.

Surely this is an unhappy view of the power and reach of human law, morality, or reason. Indeed, Williams (like Bacon and Cicero before him) thinks there is an answer to what should be done, albeit an answer very different than Anscombe's. But both views share the weakness of thinking that morality and even reason runs out on us when the going gets tough.

Yet another strategy is to divorce completely the moral appraisals of acts from the blameworthiness or praiseworthiness of the agents who undertake them, even when those agents are fully cognizant of the moral appraisals. So, for example, if A tortures innocent B to save a thousand others, one can hold that A's act is morally wrong but also that A is morally praiseworthy for having done it.

Deontology does have to grapple with how to mesh deontic judgments of wrongness with "hypological" (Zimmerman 2002) judgments of blameworthiness (Alexander 2004). Yet it would be an oddly cohering morality that condemned an act as wrong yet praised the doer of it. Deontic and hypological judgments ought to have more to do with each other than that. Moreover, it is unclear what action-guiding potential such an oddly cohered morality would have: should an agent facing such a choice avoid doing wrong, or should he go for the praise?

The last possible strategy for the deontologist in order to deal with dire consequences, other than by denying their existence, as per Taurek, is to distinguish moral reasons from all-things-considered reasons and to argue that whereas moral reasons dictate obedience to deontological norms even at the cost of catastrophic consequences, all-things-considered reasons dictate otherwise. (This is one reading of Bernard William's famous discussion of moral luck, where non-moral reasons seemingly can trump moral reasons (Williams 1975, 1981); this is also a strategy some consequentialists (e.g., Portmore 2003) seize as well in order to handle the demandingness and alienation problems endemic to consequentialism.) But like the preceding strategy, this one seems desperate. Why should one even care that moral reasons align with deontology if the important reasons, the all-things-considered reasons that actually govern decisions, align with consequentialism?

The perceived weaknesses of deontological theories have led some to consider how to eliminate or at least reduce those weaknesses while preserving deontology's advantages. One way to do this is to embrace both consequentialism and deontology, combining them into some kind of a mixed theory. Given the differing notions of rationality underlying each kind of theory, this is easier said than done. After all, one cannot simply weigh agent-relative reasons against agent-neutral reasons, without stripping the former sorts of reasons of their distinctive character.

A time-honored way of reconciling opposing theories is to allocate them to different jurisdictions. Tom Nagel's reconciliation of the two theories is a version of this, inasmuch as he allocates the agent-neutral reasons of consequentialism to our "objective" viewpoint, whereas the agent-relative reasons of deontology are seen as part of our inherent subjectivity (Nagel 1986). Yet Nagel's allocations are non-exclusive; the same situation can be seen from either subjective or objective viewpoints, meaning that it is mysterious how we are to combine them into some overall view.

A less mysterious way of combining deontology with consequentialism is to assign to each a jurisdiction that is exclusive of the other. One possibility here is to regard the agent-neutral reasons of consequentialism as a kind of default rationality/morality in the sense that when an agent-relative permission or obligation applies, it governs, but in the considerable logical space where neither applies, consequentialism holds sway (Moore 2008). Remembering that for the threshold deontologist, consequentialist reasons may still determine right action even in areas governed by agent-relative obligations or permissions, once the level of bad consequences crosses the relevant threshold (Moore 2012).

In contrast to mixed theories, deontologists who seek to keep their deontology pure hope to expand agent-relative reasons to cover all of morality and yet to mimic the advantages of consequentialism. Doing this holds out the promise of denying sense to the otherwise damning question, how could it be moral to make (or allow) the world to be worse (for they deny that there is any states-of-affairs "worseness" in terms of which to frame such a question) (Foot 1985). To make this plausible, one needs to expand the coverage of agent-relative reasons to cover what is now plausibly a matter of consequentialist reasons, such as positive duties to strangers. Moreover, deontologists taking this route need a content to the permissive and obligating norms of deontology that allows them to mimic the outcomes making consequentialism attractive. This requires a picture of morality's norms that is extremely detailed in content, so that what looks like a consequentialist balance can be generated by a complex series of norms with extremely detailed priority rules and exception clauses (Richardson 1990). Few consequentialists will believe that this is a viable enterprise.

The mirror image of the pure deontologist just described is the indirect or two-level consequentialist. For this view too seeks to appropriate the strengths of both deontology and consequentialism, not by embracing both, but by showing that an appropriately defined version of one can do for both. The indirect consequentialist, of course, seeks to do this from the side of consequentialism alone.

Yet as many have argued (Lyons 1965; Alexander 1985), indirect consequentialism collapses either into: blind and irrational rule-worship ("why follow the rules when not doing so produces better consequences?"); direct consequentialism ("acts in conformity to the rules rather miraculously produce better consequences in the long run"); or nonpublicizability ("ordinary folks should be instructed to follow the rules but should not be told of the ultimate consequentialist basis for doing so, lest they depart from the rules mistakenly believing better consequences will result"). For more information, please see the entry on rule consequentialism. Nor can the indirect consequentialist adequately explain why those who violate the indirect consequentialist's rules have "wronged" those who might be harmed as a result, that is, why the latter have a personal complaint against the former. (This is true irrespective of whether the rule-violation produces good consequences; but it is especially so when good consequences result from the rule-violation.) The bottom line is that if deontology has intuitive advantages over consequentialism, it is far from obvious whether those advantages can be captured by moving to indirect consequentialism, even if there is a version of indirect consequentialism that could avoid the dire consequences problem that bedevils deontological theories.

6. Deontology and Uncertainty About Outcomes

Recently, deontologists have begun to ask how an actor should evaluate courses of action in which it is uncertain whether a deontological constraint will be violated. For example, should one detonate dynamite in a mining operation if there is a chance that the explosion will cause the Fat Man to tumble into the path of the trolley that would otherwise kill five? (Assume that were the chance the same that the explosion would instead divert the trolley in Trolley, killing one but saving five, the detonation would be permissible.) Or should one take a drive to observe the scenery if there is a slightly increased chance that, because of the possibility of traffic, doing so will cause one to miss a lunch one had promised to attend? Whether deontological constraints focus on agents' intentions or beliefs, or whether they focus on agents' counting positively in their deliberations others' use as means, how should the uncertainty of outcomes be taken into account by deontologists? This question has been addressed by Aboodi, Borer, and Enoch (2008); Alexander (2016; 2018); Lazar (2015; 2017a, 2017b, 2018); Smith (2014); Tarsney (2018); and Tomlin (2019).

Deontological theories are normative theories. They do not presuppose any particular position on moral ontology or on moral epistemology. Presumably, a deontologist can be a moral realist of either the natural (moral properties are identical to natural properties) or nonnatural (moral properties are not themselves natural properties even if they are nonreductively related to natural properties) variety. Or a deontologist can be an expressivist, a constructivist, a transcendentalist, a conventionalist, or a Divine command theorist regarding the nature of morality. Likewise, a deontologist can claim that we know the content of deontological morality by direct intuition, by Kantian reflection on our normative situation, or by reaching reflective equilibrium between our particular moral judgments and the theories we construct to explain them (theories of intuitions).

Nonetheless, although deontological theories can be agnostic regarding metaethics, some metaethical accounts seem less hospitable than others to deontology. For example, the stock furniture of deontological normative ethics-rights, duties, permissions-fits uneasily in the realist-naturalist's corner of the metaethical universe. (Which is why many naturalists, if they are moral realists in their meta-ethics, are consequentialists in their ethics.) Nonnatural realism, conventionalism, transcendentalism, and Divine command seem more hospitable metaethical homes for deontology. (For example, the paradox of deontology above discussed may seem more tractable if morality is a matter of personal directives of a Supreme Commander to each of his human subordinates.) If these rough connections hold, then weaknesses with those metaethical accounts most hospitable to deontology will weaken deontology as a normative theory of action. Some deontologists have thus argued that these connections need not hold and that a naturalist-realist meta-ethics can ground a deontological ethics (Moore 2004).

Aboodi, R., A. Borer, and D. Enoch, 2008, "Deontology, Individualism, and Uncertainty: A Reply to Jackson and Smith," Journal of Philosophy, 105: 259-272.

Alexander, L., 1985, "Pursuing the Good-Indirectly," Ethics, 95(2): 315-332.

---, 2000, "Deontology at the Threshold," San Diego Law Review, 37(4): 893-912.

---, 2004, "The Jurisdiction of Justice: Two Conceptions of Political Morality," San Diego Law Review, 41(3): 949-966.

---, 2016, "The Means Principle," in K.K. Ferzan and S.J. Morse (eds.), Legal, Moral, and Metaphysical Truths: The Philosophy of Michael S. Moore, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 251-264.

---, 2018, "The Need to Attend to Probabilities-For Purposes of Self-Defense and Other Preemptive Actions," San Diego L. Rev, 55: 223- 229.

---, 2019, "Responses and Appreciations," Moral Puzzles and Legal Perspectives, H. Hurd (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 407-440.

Alexander, L. and K.K. Ferzan, 2009, Crime and Culpability: A Theory of Criminal Law, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2012, " 'Moore or Less' Causation and Responsibility: Reviewing Michael S. Moore, Causation and Responsibility: An Essay in Law, Morals and Metaphysics," Criminal Law and Philosophy, 6(1): 81-92.

Anscombe, G.E.M., 1958, "Modern Moral Philosophy," Philosophy, 33(124): 1-19, at 10.

---, 1962, "War and Murder," in Nuclear Weapons: A Catholic Response, W. Stein (ed.), New York: Sheed and Ward.

Arneson, R., 2019, "Deontology's Travails," Moral Puzzles and Legal Perspectives, H. Hurd (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 350-370.

Aquinas, T., 1952, Summa Theologica, Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica.

Bennett, J., 1981, "Morality and Consequences," in The Tanner Lectures on Human Values (Volume 2), S. McMurrin (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Bentham, J., 1789 (1948), An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and of Legislation, Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

Brody, B., 1996, "Withdrawing of Treatment Versus Killing of Patients," in Intending Death, T. Beauchamp (ed.), Upper Saddle River: Prentice-Hall.

Brook, R., 2007, "Deontology, Paradox, and Moral Evil," Social Theory and Practice, 33(3): 431-40.

Broome, J., 1998, "Review: Kamm on Fairness," Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 58 (4): 955-61.

Cole, K., 2019, "Two Cheers for Threshold Deontology," Moral Puzzles and Legal Perspectives, H. Hurd (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 388-406.

Doggett, T., 2013, "Saving the Few," Noûs, 33: 302-315.

Doucet, M., 2013, "Playing Dice with Morality: Weighted Lotteries and the Number Problem," Utilitas, 25: 161-181.

Dougherty, T., 2013, "Rational Numbers: A Non-Consequentialist Explanation of Why You Should Save the Many and Not the Few," Philosophical Quarterly, 63: 413-427.

Davis, N., 1984, "The Doctrine of Double Effect: Problems of Interpretation," Pacific Philosophical Quarterly, 65: 107-123.

Ellis, A., 1992, "Deontology, Incommensurability and the Arbitrary," Philosophical and Phenomenological Research, 52(4): 855-875.

Foot, P., 1967, "The Problem of Abortion and the Doctrine of Double Effect," Oxford Review, 5: 5-15.

---, 1985, "Utilitarianism and the Virtues," Mind, 94: 107-123.

Frey, R.G., 1995, "Intention, Foresight, and Killing," in Intending Death, T. Beauchamp (ed.), Upper Saddle River: Prentice-Hall.

Gauthier, D., 1986, Morals By Agreement, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Geach, P., 1969, God and the Soul, New York: Shocken Books.

Halstead, J., 2016, "The Numbers Always Count," Ethics, 126: 789-802.

Harsanyi, J., 1973, Can the Maximin Principle Serve as a Basis for Morality?: A Critique of John Rawls's Theory, Berkeley: Center for Research in Management Science.

Hart, H.L.A. and T. Honore, 1985, Causation in the Law. New York: Oxford University Press, 2nd edition.

Heuer, U., 2011, "The Paradox of Deontology Revisited," Oxford Studies in Normative Ethics, M. Timmons (ed.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 236-267.

Henning, T., 2015, "From Choice to Chance? Saving People, Fairness, and Lotteries," Philosophical Review, 124: 169-206.

Hirose, I., 2007, "Weighted Lotteries in Life and Death Cases," Ratio, 20(1): 45-56.

---, 2015, Moral Aggregation, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hsieh, N., A. Strudler, and D. Wasserman, 2006, "The Numbers Problem," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 34(4): 352-372.

Hurd, H.M., 1994, "What in the World is Wrong?" Journal of Contemporary Legal Issues, 5: 157-216.

---, 1995, "The Deontology of Negligence," Boston University Law Review, 76: 249-272.

Hurd, H. and M. Moore, forthcoming, "The Ethical Implications of Proportioning Punishment to Deontological Desert," Criminal Law and Philosophy.

Hurka, T., 2019, "More Seriously Wrong, More Importantly Right," Journal of the American Philosophical Association, 5(1): 41-58.

Huseby, R., 2011, "Spinning the Wheel or Tossing a Coin?" Utilitas, 23(2): 127-39

Kagan, S., 1989, The Limits of Morality, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Kamm, F. M., 1993, Morality, Morality: Volume I: Death and Whom to Save From It, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 1994, "Action, Omission, and the Stringency of Duties," University of Pennsylvania Law Review, 142(5): 1493-1512.

---, 1996, Morality, Mortality: Volume II: Rights, Duties and Status, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2007, Intricate Ethics: Rights, Responsibilities, and Permissible Harms, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kant, I., 1785, Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals, H.J. Paton (trans.), New York: Harper and Row, 1964.

---, 1780 (1965), The Metaphysical Elements of Justice: Part I of the Metaphysics of Morals, J. Ladd (trans.), Indianapolis: Hackett Pub. Co.

Katz, L., 1996, Ill-Gotten Gains: Evasion, Blackmail, Fraud and Kindred Puzzles of the Law, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Lazar, S., 2015, "Risky Killing and the Ethics of War," Ethics, 126: 91-117.

---, 2017a, "Risky Killing: How Risks Worsen Violations of Objective Rights," Journal of Moral Philosophy, 16: 1-26.

---, 2017b, "Deontological Decision Theory and Agent-Centered Options," Ethics, 127: 579-609.

---, 2018, "In Dubious Battle: Uncertainty and the Ethics of Kiilling," Philosophical Studies, 175: 859-883.

Lyons, D., 1965, The Forms and Limits of Utilitarianism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Mack, E., 2000, "In Defense of the Jurisdiction Theory of Rights," Journal of Ethics, 4: 71-98.

MacMahan, J., 2003, The Ethics of Killing, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Moore, M., 1993, Act and Crime: The Implications of the Philosophy of Action for the Criminal Law, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1995, "Good Without God," Natural Law, Liberalism, and Morality, R. George, ed., Oxford: Oxford University Press, 221-270.

---, 1997, Placing Blame: A General Theory of the Criminal Law, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2004, Objectivity in Ethics and Law, Aldershot: Ashgate.

---, 2008, "Patrolling the Borders of Consequentialist Justifications: The Scope of Agent-Relative Obligations," Law and Philosophy, 27(1): 35-96.

---, 2012, "Ethics in Extremis: Targeted Killings and the Morality of Targeted Killings," in Targeted Killing: Law and Morality in an Asymmetrical World, C. Finkelstein, J. Ohlin, and Al Altman, (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2019, "The Rationality of Threshold Deontology," Moral Puzzles and Legal Perspectives, H. Hurd (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 371-387.

Moore, M., and Hurd, H.M. 2011, "Blaming the Stupid, Clumsy, Selfish, and Weak: The Culpability of Negligence," Criminal Law and Philosophy, 5(2): 147-198.

Nagel, T., 1979, "War and Massacre," in Mortal Questions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1986, The View from Nowhere, New York: Oxford University Press.

Nozick, R., 1974, Anarchy, State and Utopia, New York: Basic Books.

Otsuka, M., 2006, "Saving Lives, Moral Theories and the Claims of Individuals," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 34(2): 109-135.

Parfit, D., 1984, Reasons and Persons, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Portmore, D.W., 2003, "Position-Relative Consequentialism, Agent-Centered Options, and Supererogation," Ethics, 113(2): 303-332.

Quinn, W.S., 1989, "Actions, Intentions, and Consequences: The Doctrine of Doing and Allowing," The Philosophical Review, 98(3): 287-312.

Quinton, A., 2007, Utilitarian Ethics, 2nd edition, London: Duckworth, pp. 2-3.

Rachels, J., 1975, "Active and Passive Euthanasia," New England Journal Of Medicine, 292(2): 78-80.

Rasmussen, K.B., 2012, "Should the Probabilities Count?," Philosophical Studies, 159: 205-218.

Rawls, J., 1971, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

Richardson, H.S., 1990, "Specifying Norms as a Way to Resolve Concrete Ethical Problems," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 19(4): 279-310.

Ross, W.D., 1930, The Right and the Good, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1939, The Foundations of Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Saunders, B., 2009, "A Defence of Weighted Lotteries in Life Saving Cases," Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 12(3): 279-90.

Scanlon, T.M., 2003, The Difficulty of Tolerance: Essays in Political Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Schaffer, J., 2012, "Disconnection and Responsibility," Legal Theory, 18: 399-435.

Scheffler, S., 1982, The Rejection of Consequentialism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

--- (ed.), 1988, "Introduction," in Consequentialism and Its Critics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Sen, A.K., 1982, "Rights and Agency," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 11(1): 3-39.

Slote, M.A., 1984, Common-Sense Morality and Consequentialism, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Smith, H.M., 2014, "The Subjective Moral Duty to Inform Oneself Before Acting to Inform Oneself Before Acting," Ethics, 125(1): 11-38.

Steiner, H., 1994, An Essay on Rights, Oxford: Blackwell.

Suikkanen, J., 2004, "What We Owe to Many," Social Theory and Practice, 30(4): 485-506.

Tarsney, C., 2108, "Moral Uncertainty for Deontologists," Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 21: 505-520.

Taurek, J.M., 1977, "Should the Numbers Count?" Philosophy and Public Affairs, 6(4): 293-316.

Thomson, J.J., 1985, "The Trolley Problem," Yale Law Journal, 94: 1395-1415.

Timmerman, J., 2004, "The Individualist Lottery: How People Count, but Not Their Numbers," Analysis, 64(2): 106-112.

Tomlin, P., 2019, "Subjective Proportionality," Ethics, 129: 254-283.

Vallentyne, P. and H. Steiner (eds.), 2000, Left-Libertarianism and Its Critics, Houndmills: Palgrave.

Vallentyne, P., H. Steiner, and M. Otsuka, 2005, "Why Left-Libertarianism Is Not Incoherent, Indeterminate, or Irrelevant: A Reply to Fried," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 33(2): 201-215.

Walen, A., 2014, "Transcending the Means Principle," Law & Philosophy, 33: 427-464.

---, 2016, "The Restricting Claims Principle Revisited: Grounding the Means Principle on the Agent-Patient Divide," Law & Philosophy, 35: 211-247.

Wasserman, D. and A. Strudler, 2003, "Can a Nonconsequentialist Count Lives?" Philosophy and Public Affairs, 31(1): 71-94.

Williams, B., 1973, "A Critique of Utilitarianism" in Utilitarianism: For and Against, J.J.C. Smart and B. Williams, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 77-150.

---, 1975, "Moral Luck," Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 50(supp.): 115-135; revised and reprinted in Williams 1981.

---, 1981, Moral Luck, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Williams, G.L., 1961, Criminal Law: The General Part, London: Stevens and Sons, 2nd edition, p. 739.

Woodward, P.A. (ed.), 2001, The Doctrine of Double Effect, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.

Zimmerman, M., 2002, "Taking Moral Luck Seriously," Journal of Philosophy, 99(11): 553-576.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Because deontological theories are best understood in contrast to consequentialist ones, a brief look at consequentialism and a survey of the problems with it that motivate its deontological opponents, provides a helpful prelude to taking up deontological theories themselves. Consequentialists hold that choices-acts and/or intentions-are to be morally assessed solely by the states of affairs they bring about.

# data[].attributes.body
This article introduces readers to the concept of virtue ethics, a school of morality that emphasises virtues or moral character as opposed to duties/rules or consequences when making normative decisions on what to do.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Preliminaries

In the West, virtue ethics' founding fathers are Plato and Aristotle, and in the East it can be traced back to Mencius and Confucius. It persisted as the dominant approach in Western moral philosophy until at least the Enlightenment, suffered a momentary eclipse during the nineteenth century, but re-emerged in Anglo-American philosophy in the late 1950s. It was heralded by Anscombe's famous article "Modern Moral Philosophy" (Anscombe 1958) which crystallized an increasing dissatisfaction with the forms of deontology and utilitarianism then prevailing. Neither of them, at that time, paid attention to a number of topics that had always figured in the virtue ethics tradition-virtues and vices, motives and moral character, moral education, moral wisdom or discernment, friendship and family relationships, a deep concept of happiness, the role of the emotions in our moral life and the fundamentally important questions of what sorts of persons we should be and how we should live.

Its re-emergence had an invigorating effect on the other two approaches, many of whose proponents then began to address these topics in the terms of their favoured theory. (One consequence of this has been that it is now necessary to distinguish "virtue ethics" (the third approach) from "virtue theory", a term which includes accounts of virtue within the other approaches.) Interest in Kant's virtue theory has redirected philosophers' attention to Kant's long neglected Doctrine of Virtue, and utilitarians have developed consequentialist virtue theories (Driver 2001; Hurka 2001). It has also generated virtue ethical readings of philosophers other than Plato and Aristotle, such as Martineau, Hume and Nietzsche, and thereby different forms of virtue ethics have developed (Slote 2001; Swanton 2003, 2011a).

Although modern virtue ethics does not have to take a "neo-Aristotelian" or eudaimonist form (see section 2), almost any modern version still shows that its roots are in ancient Greek philosophy by the employment of three concepts derived from it. These are arête (excellence or virtue), phronesis (practical or moral wisdom) and eudaimonia (usually translated as happiness or flourishing). (See Annas 2011 for a short, clear, and authoritative account of all three.) We discuss the first two in the remainder of this section. Eudaimonia is discussed in connection with eudaimonist versions of virtue ethics in the next.

1.1 Virtue

A virtue is an excellent trait of character. It is a disposition, well entrenched in its possessor-something that, as we say, goes all the way down, unlike a habit such as being a tea-drinker-to notice, expect, value, feel, desire, choose, act, and react in certain characteristic ways. To possess a virtue is to be a certain sort of person with a certain complex mindset. A significant aspect of this mindset is the wholehearted acceptance of a distinctive range of considerations as reasons for action. An honest person cannot be identified simply as one who, for example, practices honest dealing and does not cheat. If such actions are done merely because the agent thinks that honesty is the best policy, or because they fear being caught out, rather than through recognising "To do otherwise would be dishonest" as the relevant reason, they are not the actions of an honest person. An honest person cannot be identified simply as one who, for example, tells the truth because it is the truth, for one can have the virtue of honesty without being tactless or indiscreet. The honest person recognises "That would be a lie" as a strong (though perhaps not overriding) reason for not making certain statements in certain circumstances, and gives due, but not overriding, weight to "That would be the truth" as a reason for making them.

An honest person's reasons and choices with respect to honest and dishonest actions reflect her views about honesty, truth, and deception-but of course such views manifest themselves with respect to other actions, and to emotional reactions as well. Valuing honesty as she does, she chooses, where possible to work with honest people, to have honest friends, to bring up her children to be honest. She disapproves of, dislikes, deplores dishonesty, is not amused by certain tales of chicanery, despises or pities those who succeed through deception rather than thinking they have been clever, is unsurprised, or pleased (as appropriate) when honesty triumphs, is shocked or distressed when those near and dear to her do what is dishonest and so on. Given that a virtue is such a multi-track disposition, it would obviously be reckless to attribute one to an agent on the basis of a single observed action or even a series of similar actions, especially if you don't know the agent's reasons for doing as she did (Sreenivasan 2002).

Possessing a virtue is a matter of degree. To possess such a disposition fully is to possess full or perfect virtue, which is rare, and there are a number of ways of falling short of this ideal (Athanassoulis 2000). Most people who can truly be described as fairly virtuous, and certainly markedly better than those who can truly be described as dishonest, self-centred and greedy, still have their blind spots-little areas where they do not act for the reasons one would expect. So someone honest or kind in most situations, and notably so in demanding ones, may nevertheless be trivially tainted by snobbery, inclined to be disingenuous about their forebears and less than kind to strangers with the wrong accent.

Further, it is not easy to get one's emotions in harmony with one's rational recognition of certain reasons for action. I may be honest enough to recognise that I must own up to a mistake because it would be dishonest not to do so without my acceptance being so wholehearted that I can own up easily, with no inner conflict. Following (and adapting) Aristotle, virtue ethicists draw a distinction between full or perfect virtue and "continence", or strength of will. The fully virtuous do what they should without a struggle against contrary desires; the continent have to control a desire or temptation to do otherwise.

Describing the continent as "falling short" of perfect virtue appears to go against the intuition that there is something particularly admirable about people who manage to act well when it is especially hard for them to do so, but the plausibility of this depends on exactly what "makes it hard" (Foot 1978: 11-14). If it is the circumstances in which the agent acts-say that she is very poor when she sees someone drop a full purse or that she is in deep grief when someone visits seeking help-then indeed it is particularly admirable of her to restore the purse or give the help when it is hard for her to do so. But if what makes it hard is an imperfection in her character-the temptation to keep what is not hers, or a callous indifference to the suffering of others-then it is not.

1.2 Practical Wisdom

Another way in which one can easily fall short of full virtue is through lacking phronesis -moral or practical wisdom.

The concept of a virtue is the concept of something that makes its possessor good: a virtuous person is a morally good, excellent or admirable person who acts and feels as she should. These are commonly accepted truisms. But it is equally common, in relation to particular (putative) examples of virtues to give these truisms up. We may say of someone that he is generous or honest "to a fault". It is commonly asserted that someone's compassion might lead them to act wrongly, to tell a lie they should not have told, for example, in their desire to prevent someone else's hurt feelings. It is also said that courage, in a desperado, enables him to do far more wicked things than he would have been able to do if he were timid. So it would appear that generosity, honesty, compassion and courage despite being virtues, are sometimes faults. Someone who is generous, honest, compassionate, and courageous might not be a morally good person-or, if it is still held to be a truism that they are, then morally good people may be led by what makes them morally good to act wrongly! How have we arrived at such an odd conclusion?

The answer lies in too ready an acceptance of ordinary usage, which permits a fairly wide-ranging application of many of the virtue terms, combined, perhaps, with a modern readiness to suppose that the virtuous agent is motivated by emotion or inclination, not by rational choice. If one thinks of generosity or honesty as the disposition to be moved to action by generous or honest impulses such as the desire to give or to speak the truth, if one thinks of compassion as the disposition to be moved by the sufferings of others and to act on that emotion, if one thinks of courage as mere fearlessness or the willingness to face danger, then it will indeed seem obvious that these are all dispositions that can lead to their possessor's acting wrongly. But it is also obvious, as soon as it is stated, that these are dispositions that can be possessed by children, and although children thus endowed (bar the "courageous" disposition) would undoubtedly be very nice children, we would not say that they were morally virtuous or admirable people. The ordinary usage, or the reliance on motivation by inclination, gives us what Aristotle calls "natural virtue"-a proto version of full virtue awaiting perfection by phronesis or practical wisdom.

Aristotle makes a number of specific remarks about phronesis that are the subject of much scholarly debate, but the (related) modern concept is best understood by thinking of what the virtuous morally mature adult has that nice children, including nice adolescents, lack. Both the virtuous adult and the nice child have good intentions, but the child is much more prone to mess things up because he is ignorant of what he needs to know in order to do what he intends. A virtuous adult is not, of course, infallible and may also, on occasion, fail to do what she intended to do through lack of knowledge, but only on those occasions on which the lack of knowledge is not culpable. So, for example, children and adolescents often harm those they intend to benefit either because they do not know how to set about securing the benefit or because their understanding of what is beneficial and harmful is limited and often mistaken. Such ignorance in small children is rarely, if ever culpable. Adults, on the other hand, are culpable if they mess things up by being thoughtless, insensitive, reckless, impulsive, shortsighted, and by assuming that what suits them will suit everyone instead of taking a more objective viewpoint. They are also culpable if their understanding of what is beneficial and harmful is mistaken. It is part of practical wisdom to know how to secure real benefits effectively; those who have practical wisdom will not make the mistake of concealing the hurtful truth from the person who really needs to know it in the belief that they are benefiting him.

Quite generally, given that good intentions are intentions to act well or "do the right thing", we may say that practical wisdom is the knowledge or understanding that enables its possessor, unlike the nice adolescents, to do just that, in any given situation. The detailed specification of what is involved in such knowledge or understanding has not yet appeared in the literature, but some aspects of it are becoming well known. Even many deontologists now stress the point that their action-guiding rules cannot, reliably, be applied without practical wisdom, because correct application requires situational appreciation-the capacity to recognise, in any particular situation, those features of it that are morally salient. This brings out two aspects of practical wisdom.

One is that it characteristically comes only with experience of life. Amongst the morally relevant features of a situation may be the likely consequences, for the people involved, of a certain action, and this is something that adolescents are notoriously clueless about precisely because they are inexperienced. It is part of practical wisdom to be wise about human beings and human life. (It should go without saying that the virtuous are mindful of the consequences of possible actions. How could they fail to be reckless, thoughtless and short-sighted if they were not?)

The second is the practically wise agent's capacity to recognise some features of a situation as more important than others, or indeed, in that situation, as the only relevant ones. The wise do not see things in the same way as the nice adolescents who, with their under-developed virtues, still tend to see the personally disadvantageous nature of a certain action as competing in importance with its honesty or benevolence or justice.

These aspects coalesce in the description of the practically wise as those who understand what is truly worthwhile, truly important, and thereby truly advantageous in life, who know, in short, how to live well.

2. Forms of Virtue Ethics

While all forms of virtue ethics agree that virtue is central and practical wisdom required, they differ in how they combine these and other concepts to illuminate what we should do in particular contexts and how we should live our lives as a whole. In what follows we sketch four distinct forms taken by contemporary virtue ethics, namely, a) eudaimonist virtue ethics, b) agent-based and exemplarist virtue ethics, c) target-centered virtue ethics, and d) Platonistic virtue ethics.

2.1 Eudaimonist Virtue Ethics

The distinctive feature of eudaimonist versions of virtue ethics is that they define virtues in terms of their relationship to eudaimonia. A virtue is a trait that contributes to or is a constituent of eudaimonia and we ought to develop virtues, the eudaimonist claims, precisely because they contribute to eudaimonia.

The concept of eudaimonia, a key term in ancient Greek moral philosophy, is standardly translated as "happiness" or "flourishing" and occasionally as "well-being." Each translation has its disadvantages. The trouble with "flourishing" is that animals and even plants can flourish but eudaimonia is possible only for rational beings. The trouble with "happiness" is that in ordinary conversation it connotes something subjectively determined. It is for me, not for you, to pronounce on whether I am happy. If I think I am happy then I am-it is not something I can be wrong about (barring advanced cases of self-deception). Contrast my being healthy or flourishing. Here we have no difficulty in recognizing that I might think I was healthy, either physically or psychologically, or think that I was flourishing but be wrong. In this respect, "flourishing" is a better translation than "happiness". It is all too easy to be mistaken about whether one's life is eudaimon (the adjective from eudaimonia) not simply because it is easy to deceive oneself, but because it is easy to have a mistaken conception of eudaimonia, or of what it is to live well as a human being, believing it to consist largely in physical pleasure or luxury for example.

Eudaimonia is, avowedly, a moralized or value-laden concept of happiness, something like "true" or "real" happiness or "the sort of happiness worth seeking or having." It is thereby the sort of concept about which there can be substantial disagreement between people with different views about human life that cannot be resolved by appeal to some external standard on which, despite their different views, the parties to the disagreement concur (Hursthouse 1999: 188-189).

Most versions of virtue ethics agree that living a life in accordance with virtue is necessary for eudaimonia. This supreme good is not conceived of as an independently defined state (made up of, say, a list of non-moral goods that does not include virtuous activity) which exercise of the virtues might be thought to promote. It is, within virtue ethics, already conceived of as something of which virtuous activity is at least partially constitutive (Kraut 1989). Thereby virtue ethicists claim that a human life devoted to physical pleasure or the acquisition of wealth is not eudaimon, but a wasted life.

But although all standard versions of virtue ethics insist on that conceptual link between virtue and eudaimonia, further links are matters of dispute and generate different versions. For Aristotle, virtue is necessary but not sufficient-what is also needed are external goods which are a matter of luck. For Plato and the Stoics, virtue is both necessary and sufficient for eudaimonia (Annas 1993).

According to eudaimonist virtue ethics, the good life is the eudaimon life, and the virtues are what enable a human being to be eudaimon because the virtues just are those character traits that benefit their possessor in that way, barring bad luck. So there is a link between eudaimonia and what confers virtue status on a character trait. (For a discussion of the differences between eudaimonists see Baril 2014. For recent defenses of eudaimonism see Annas 2011; LeBar 2013b; Badhwar 2014; and Bloomfield 2014.)

2.2 Agent-Based and Exemplarist Virtue Ethics

Rather than deriving the normativity of virtue from the value of eudaimonia, agent-based virtue ethicists argue that other forms of normativity-including the value of eudaimonia -are traced back to and ultimately explained in terms of the motivational and dispositional qualities of agents.

It is unclear how many other forms of normativity must be explained in terms of the qualities of agents in order for a theory to count as agent-based. The two best-known agent-based theorists, Michael Slote and Linda Zagzebski, trace a wide range of normative qualities back to the qualities of agents. For example, Slote defines rightness and wrongness in terms of agents' motivations: "[A]gent-based virtue ethics ... understands rightness in terms of good motivations and wrongness in terms of the having of bad (or insufficiently good) motives" (2001: 14). Similarly, he explains the goodness of an action, the value of eudaimonia, the justice of a law or social institution, and the normativity of practical rationality in terms of the motivational and dispositional qualities of agents (2001: 99-100, 154, 2000). Zagzebski likewise defines right and wrong actions by reference to the emotions, motives, and dispositions of virtuous and vicious agents. For example, "A wrong act = an act that the phronimos characteristically would not do, and he would feel guilty if he did = an act such that it is not the case that he might do it = an act that expresses a vice = an act that is against a requirement of virtue (the virtuous self)" (Zagzebski 2004: 160). Her definitions of duties, good and bad ends, and good and bad states of affairs are similarly grounded in the motivational and dispositional states of exemplary agents (1998, 2004, 2010).

However, there could also be less ambitious agent-based approaches to virtue ethics (see Slote 1997). At the very least, an agent-based approach must be committed to explaining what one should do by reference to the motivational and dispositional states of agents. But this is not yet a sufficient condition for counting as an agent-based approach, since the same condition will be met by every virtue ethical account. For a theory to count as an agent-based form of virtue ethics it must also be the case that the normative properties of motivations and dispositions cannot be explained in terms of the normative properties of something else (such as eudaimonia or states of affairs) which is taken to be more fundamental.

Beyond this basic commitment, there is room for agent-based theories to be developed in a number of different directions. The most important distinguishing factor has to do with how motivations and dispositions are taken to matter for the purposes of explaining other normative qualities. For Slote what matters are this particular agent's actual motives and dispositions. The goodness of action A, for example, is derived from the agent's motives when she performs A. If those motives are good then the action is good, if not then not. On Zagzebski's account, by contrast, a good or bad, right or wrong action is defined not by this agent's actual motives but rather by whether this is the sort of action a virtuously motivated agent would perform (Zagzebski 2004: 160). Appeal to the virtuous agent's hypothetical motives and dispositions enables Zagzebski to distinguish between performing the right action and doing so for the right reasons (a distinction that, as Brady (2004) observes, Slote has trouble drawing).

Another point on which agent-based forms of virtue ethics might differ concerns how one identifies virtuous motivations and dispositions. According to Zagzebski's exemplarist account, "We do not have criteria for goodness in advance of identifying the exemplars of goodness" (Zagzebski 2004: 41). As we observe the people around us, we find ourselves wanting to be like some of them (in at least some respects) and not wanting to be like others. The former provide us with positive exemplars and the latter with negative ones. Our understanding of better and worse motivations and virtuous and vicious dispositions is grounded in these primitive responses to exemplars (2004: 53). This is not to say that every time we act we stop and ask ourselves what one of our exemplars would do in this situations. Our moral concepts become more refined over time as we encounter a wider variety of exemplars and begin to draw systematic connections between them, noting what they have in common, how they differ, and which of these commonalities and differences matter, morally speaking. Recognizable motivational profiles emerge and come to be labeled as virtues or vices, and these, in turn, shape our understanding of the obligations we have and the ends we should pursue. However, even though the systematising of moral thought can travel a long way from our starting point, according to the exemplarist it never reaches a stage where reference to exemplars is replaced by the recognition of something more fundamental. At the end of the day, according to the exemplarist, our moral system still rests on our basic propensity to take a liking (or disliking) to exemplars. Nevertheless, one could be an agent-based theorist without advancing the exemplarist's account of the origins or reference conditions for judgments of good and bad, virtuous and vicious.

2.3 Target-Centered Virtue Ethics

The touchstone for eudaimonist virtue ethicists is a flourishing human life. For agent-based virtue ethicists it is an exemplary agent's motivations. The target-centered view developed by Christine Swanton (2003), by contrast, begins with our existing conceptions of the virtues. We already have a passable idea of which traits are virtues and what they involve. Of course, this untutored understanding can be clarified and improved, and it is one of the tasks of the virtue ethicist to help us do precisely that. But rather than stripping things back to something as basic as the motivations we want to imitate or building it up to something as elaborate as an entire flourishing life, the target-centered view begins where most ethics students find themselves, namely, with the idea that generosity, courage, self-discipline, compassion, and the like get a tick of approval. It then examines what these traits involve.

A complete account of virtue will map out 1) its field, 2) its mode of responsiveness, 3) its basis of moral acknowledgment, and 4) its target. Different virtues are concerned with different fields. Courage, for example, is concerned with what might harm us, whereas generosity is concerned with the sharing of time, talent, and property. The basis of acknowledgment of a virtue is the feature within the virtue's field to which it responds. To continue with our previous examples, generosity is attentive to the benefits that others might enjoy through one's agency, and courage responds to threats to value, status, or the bonds that exist between oneself and particular others, and the fear such threats might generate. A virtue's mode has to do with how it responds to the bases of acknowledgment within its field. Generosity promotes a good, namely, another's benefit, whereas courage defends a value, bond, or status. Finally, a virtue's target is that at which it is aimed. Courage aims to control fear and handle danger, while generosity aims to share time, talents, or possessions with others in ways that benefit them.

A virtue, on a target-centered account, "is a disposition to respond to, or acknowledge, items within its field or fields in an excellent or good enough way" (Swanton 2003: 19). A virtuous act is an act that hits the target of a virtue, which is to say that it succeeds in responding to items in its field in the specified way (233). Providing a target-centered definition of a right action requires us to move beyond the analysis of a single virtue and the actions that follow from it. This is because a single action context may involve a number of different, overlapping fields. Determination might lead me to persist in trying to complete a difficult task even if doing so requires a singleness of purpose. But love for my family might make a different use of my time and attention. In order to define right action a target-centered view must explain how we handle different virtues' conflicting claims on our resources. There are at least three different ways to address this challenge. A perfectionist target-centered account would stipulate, "An act is right if and only if it is overall virtuous, and that entails that it is the, or a, best action possible in the circumstances" (239-240). A more permissive target-centered account would not identify 'right' with 'best', but would allow an action to count as right provided "it is good enough even if not the (or a) best action" (240). A minimalist target-centered account would not even require an action to be good in order to be right. On such a view, "An act is right if and only if it is not overall vicious" (240). (For further discussion of target-centered virtue ethics see Van Zyl 2014; and Smith 2016).

2.4 Platonistic Virtue Ethics

The fourth form a virtue ethic might adopt takes its inspiration from Plato. The Socrates of Plato's dialogues devotes a great deal of time to asking his fellow Athenians to explain the nature of virtues like justice, courage, piety, and wisdom. So it is clear that Plato counts as a virtue theorist. But it is a matter of some debate whether he should be read as a virtue ethicist (White 2015). What is not open to debate is whether Plato has had an important influence on the contemporary revival of interest in virtue ethics. A number of those who have contributed to the revival have done so as Plato scholars (e.g., Prior 1991; Kamtekar 1998; Annas 1999; and Reshotko 2006). However, often they have ended up championing a eudaimonist version of virtue ethics (see Prior 2001 and Annas 2011), rather than a version that would warrant a separate classification. Nevertheless, there are two variants that call for distinct treatment.

Timothy Chappell takes the defining feature of Platonistic virtue ethics to be that "Good agency in the truest and fullest sense presupposes the contemplation of the Form of the Good" (2014). Chappell follows Iris Murdoch in arguing that "In the moral life the enemy is the fat relentless ego" (Murdoch 1971: 51). Constantly attending to our needs, our desires, our passions, and our thoughts skews our perspective on what the world is actually like and blinds us to the goods around us. Contemplating the goodness of something we encounter-which is to say, carefully attending to it "for its own sake, in order to understand it" (Chappell 2014: 300)-breaks this natural tendency by drawing our attention away from ourselves. Contemplating such goodness with regularity makes room for new habits of thought that focus more readily and more honestly on things other than the self. It alters the quality of our consciousness. And "anything which alters consciousness in the direction of unselfishness, objectivity, and realism is to be connected with virtue" (Murdoch 1971: 82). The virtues get defined, then, in terms of qualities that help one "pierce the veil of selfish consciousness and join the world as it really is" (91). And good agency is defined by the possession and exercise of such virtues. Within Chappell's and Murdoch's framework, then, not all normative properties get defined in terms of virtue. Goodness, in particular, is not so defined. But the kind of goodness which is possible for creatures like us is defined by virtue, and any answer to the question of what one should do or how one should live will appeal to the virtues.

Another Platonistic variant of virtue ethics is exemplified by Robert Merrihew Adams. Unlike Murdoch and Chappell, his starting point is not a set of claims about our consciousness of goodness. Rather, he begins with an account of the metaphysics of goodness. Like Murdoch and others influenced by Platonism, Adams's account of goodness is built around a conception of a supremely perfect good. And like Augustine, Adams takes that perfect good to be God. God is both the exemplification and the source of all goodness. Other things are good, he suggests, to the extent that they resemble God (Adams 1999).

The resemblance requirement identifies a necessary condition for being good, but it does not yet give us a sufficient condition. This is because there are ways in which finite creatures might resemble God that would not be suitable to the type of creature they are. For example, if God were all-knowing, then the belief, "I am all-knowing," would be a suitable belief for God to have. In God, such a belief-because true-would be part of God's perfection. However, as neither you nor I are all-knowing, the belief, "I am all-knowing," in one of us would not be good. To rule out such cases we need to introduce another factor. That factor is the fitting response to goodness, which Adams suggests is love. Adams uses love to weed out problematic resemblances: "being excellent in the way that a finite thing can be consists in resembling God in a way that could serve God as a reason for loving the thing" (Adams 1999: 36).

Virtues come into the account as one of the ways in which some things (namely, persons) could resemble God. "[M]ost of the excellences that are most important to us, and of whose value we are most confident, are excellences of persons or of qualities or actions or works or lives or stories of persons" (1999: 42). This is one of the reasons Adams offers for conceiving of the ideal of perfection as a personal God, rather than an impersonal form of the Good. Many of the excellences of persons of which we are most confident are virtues such as love, wisdom, justice, patience, and generosity. And within many theistic traditions, including Adams's own Christian tradition, such virtues are commonly attributed to divine agents.

A Platonistic account like the one Adams puts forward in Finite and Infinite Goods clearly does not derive all other normative properties from the virtues (for a discussion of the relationship between this view and the one he puts forward in A Theory of Virtue (2006) see Pettigrove 2014). Goodness provides the normative foundation. Virtues are not built on that foundation; rather, as one of the varieties of goodness of whose value we are most confident, virtues form part of the foundation. Obligations, by contrast, come into the account at a different level. Moral obligations, Adams argues, are determined by the expectations and demands that "arise in a relationship or system of relationships that is good or valuable" (1999: 244). Other things being equal, the more virtuous the parties to the relationship, the more binding the obligation. Thus, within Adams's account, the good (which includes virtue) is prior to the right. However, once good relationships have given rise to obligations, those obligations take on a life of their own. Their bindingness is not traced directly to considerations of goodness. Rather, they are determined by the expectations of the parties and the demands of the relationship.

3. Objections to virtue ethics

A number of objections have been raised against virtue ethics, some of which bear more directly on one form of virtue ethics than on others. In this section we consider eight objections, namely, the a) application, b) adequacy, c) relativism, d) conflict, e) self-effacement, f) justification, g) egoism, and h) situationist problems.

a) In the early days of virtue ethics' revival, the approach was associated with an "anti-codifiability" thesis about ethics, directed against the prevailing pretensions of normative theory. At the time, utilitarians and deontologists commonly (though not universally) held that the task of ethical theory was to come up with a code consisting of universal rules or principles (possibly only one, as in the case of act-utilitarianism) which would have two significant features: i) the rule(s) would amount to a decision procedure for determining what the right action was in any particular case; ii) the rule(s) would be stated in such terms that any non-virtuous person could understand and apply it (them) correctly.

Virtue ethicists maintained, contrary to these two claims, that it was quite unrealistic to imagine that there could be such a code (see, in particular, McDowell 1979). The results of attempts to produce and employ such a code, in the heady days of the 1960s and 1970s, when medical and then bioethics boomed and bloomed, tended to support the virtue ethicists' claim. More and more utilitarians and deontologists found themselves agreed on their general rules but on opposite sides of the controversial moral issues in contemporary discussion. It came to be recognised that moral sensitivity, perception, imagination, and judgement informed by experience- phronesis in short-is needed to apply rules or principles correctly. Hence many (though by no means all) utilitarians and deontologists have explicitly abandoned (ii) and much less emphasis is placed on (i).

Nevertheless, the complaint that virtue ethics does not produce codifiable principles is still a commonly voiced criticism of the approach, expressed as the objection that it is, in principle, unable to provide action-guidance.

Initially, the objection was based on a misunderstanding. Blinkered by slogans that described virtue ethics as "concerned with Being rather than Doing", as addressing "What sort of person should I be?" but not "What should I do?" as being "agent-centered rather than act-centered", its critics maintained that it was unable to provide action-guidance and hence, rather than being a normative rival to utilitarian and deontological ethics, could claim to be no more than a valuable supplement to them. The rather odd idea was that all virtue ethics could offer was "Identify a moral exemplar and do what he would do" as though the raped fifteen-year-old trying to decide whether or not to have an abortion was supposed to ask herself "Would Socrates have had an abortion if he were in my circumstances?"

But the objection failed to take note of Anscombe's hint that a great deal of specific action guidance could be found in rules employing the virtue and vice terms ("v-rules") such as "Do what is honest/charitable; do not do what is dishonest/uncharitable" (Hursthouse 1999). (It is a noteworthy feature of our virtue and vice vocabulary that, although our list of generally recognised virtue terms is comparatively short, our list of vice terms is remarkably, and usefully, long, far exceeding anything that anyone who thinks in terms of standard deontological rules has ever come up with. Much invaluable action guidance comes from avoiding courses of action that would be irresponsible, feckless, lazy, inconsiderate, uncooperative, harsh, intolerant, selfish, mercenary, indiscreet, tactless, arrogant, unsympathetic, cold, incautious, unenterprising, pusillanimous, feeble, presumptuous, rude, hypocritical, self-indulgent, materialistic, grasping, short-sighted, vindictive, calculating, ungrateful, grudging, brutal, profligate, disloyal, and on and on.)

(b) A closely related objection has to do with whether virtue ethics can provide an adequate account of right action. This worry can take two forms. (i) One might think a virtue ethical account of right action is extensionally inadequate. It is possible to perform a right action without being virtuous and a virtuous person can occasionally perform the wrong action without that calling her virtue into question. If virtue is neither necessary nor sufficient for right action, one might wonder whether the relationship between rightness/wrongness and virtue/vice is close enough for the former to be identified in terms of the latter. (ii) Alternatively, even if one thought it possible to produce a virtue ethical account that picked out all (and only) right actions, one might still think that at least in some cases virtue is not what explains rightness (Adams 2006:6-8).

Some virtue ethicists respond to the adequacy objection by rejecting the assumption that virtue ethics ought to be in the business of providing an account of right action in the first place. Following in the footsteps of Anscombe (1958) and MacIntyre (1985), Talbot Brewer (2009) argues that to work with the categories of rightness and wrongness is already to get off on the wrong foot. Contemporary conceptions of right and wrong action, built as they are around a notion of moral duty that presupposes a framework of divine (or moral) law or around a conception of obligation that is defined in contrast to self-interest, carry baggage the virtue ethicist is better off without. Virtue ethics can address the questions of how one should live, what kind of person one should become, and even what one should do without that committing it to providing an account of 'right action'. One might choose, instead, to work with aretaic concepts (defined in terms of virtues and vices) and axiological concepts (defined in terms of good and bad, better and worse) and leave out deontic notions (like right/wrong action, duty, and obligation) altogether.

Other virtue ethicists wish to retain the concept of right action but note that in the current philosophical discussion a number of distinct qualities march under that banner. In some contexts, 'right action' identifies the best action an agent might perform in the circumstances. In others, it designates an action that is commendable (even if not the best possible). In still others, it picks out actions that are not blameworthy (even if not commendable). A virtue ethicist might choose to define one of these-for example, the best action-in terms of virtues and vices, but appeal to other normative concepts-such as legitimate expectations-when defining other conceptions of right action.

As we observed in section 2, a virtue ethical account need not attempt to reduce all other normative concepts to virtues and vices. What is required is simply (i) that virtue is not reduced to some other normative concept that is taken to be more fundamental and (ii) that some other normative concepts are explained in terms of virtue and vice. This takes the sting out of the adequacy objection, which is most compelling against versions of virtue ethics that attempt to define all of the senses of 'right action' in terms of virtues. Appealing to virtues and vices makes it much easier to achieve extensional adequacy. Making room for normative concepts that are not taken to be reducible to virtue and vice concepts makes it even easier to generate a theory that is both extensionally and explanatorily adequate. Whether one needs other concepts and, if so, how many, is still a matter of debate among virtue ethicists, as is the question of whether virtue ethics even ought to be offering an account of right action. Either way virtue ethicists have resources available to them to address the adequacy objection.

Insofar as the different versions of virtue ethics all retain an emphasis on the virtues, they are open to the familiar problem of (c) the charge of cultural relativity. Is it not the case that different cultures embody different virtues, (MacIntyre 1985) and hence that the v-rules will pick out actions as right or wrong only relative to a particular culture? Different replies have been made to this charge. One-the tu quoque, or "partners in crime" response-exhibits a quite familiar pattern in virtue ethicists' defensive strategy (Solomon 1988). They admit that, for them, cultural relativism is a challenge, but point out that it is just as much a problem for the other two approaches. The (putative) cultural variation in character traits regarded as virtues is no greater-indeed markedly less-than the cultural variation in rules of conduct, and different cultures have different ideas about what constitutes happiness or welfare. That cultural relativity should be a problem common to all three approaches is hardly surprising. It is related, after all, to the "justification problem" ( see below) the quite general metaethical problem of justifying one's moral beliefs to those who disagree, whether they be moral sceptics, pluralists or from another culture.

A bolder strategy involves claiming that virtue ethics has less difficulty with cultural relativity than the other two approaches. Much cultural disagreement arises, it may be claimed, from local understandings of the virtues, but the virtues themselves are not relative to culture (Nussbaum 1993).

Another objection to which the tu quoque response is partially appropriate is (d) "the conflict problem." What does virtue ethics have to say about dilemmas-cases in which, apparently, the requirements of different virtues conflict because they point in opposed directions? Charity prompts me to kill the person who would be better off dead, but justice forbids it. Honesty points to telling the hurtful truth, kindness and compassion to remaining silent or even lying. What shall I do? Of course, the same sorts of dilemmas are generated by conflicts between deontological rules. Deontology and virtue ethics share the conflict problem (and are happy to take it on board rather than follow some of the utilitarians in their consequentialist resolutions of such dilemmas) and in fact their strategies for responding to it are parallel. Both aim to resolve a number of dilemmas by arguing that the conflict is merely apparent; a discriminating understanding of the virtues or rules in question, possessed only by those with practical wisdom, will perceive that, in this particular case, the virtues do not make opposing demands or that one rule outranks another, or has a certain exception clause built into it. Whether this is all there is to it depends on whether there are any irresolvable dilemmas. If there are, proponents of either normative approach may point out reasonably that it could only be a mistake to offer a resolution of what is, ex hypothesi, irresolvable.

Another problem arguably shared by all three approaches is (e), that of being self-effacing. An ethical theory is self-effacing if, roughly, whatever it claims justifies a particular action, or makes it right, had better not be the agent's motive for doing it. Michael Stocker (1976) originally introduced it as a problem for deontology and consequentialism. He pointed out that the agent who, rightly, visits a friend in hospital will rather lessen the impact of his visit on her if he tells her either that he is doing it because it is his duty or because he thought it would maximize the general happiness. But as Simon Keller observes, she won't be any better pleased if he tells her that he is visiting her because it is what a virtuous agent would do, so virtue ethics would appear to have the problem too (Keller 2007). However, virtue ethics' defenders have argued that not all forms of virtue ethics are subject to this objection (Pettigrove 2011) and those that are are not seriously undermined by the problem (Martinez 2011).

Another problem for virtue ethics, which is shared by both utilitarianism and deontology, is (f) "the justification problem." Abstractly conceived, this is the problem of how we justify or ground our ethical beliefs, an issue that is hotly debated at the level of metaethics. In its particular versions, for deontology there is the question of how to justify its claims that certain moral rules are the correct ones, and for utilitarianism of how to justify its claim that all that really matters morally are consequences for happiness or well-being. For virtue ethics, the problem concerns the question of which character traits are the virtues.

In the metaethical debate, there is widespread disagreement about the possibility of providing an external foundation for ethics-"external" in the sense of being external to ethical beliefs-and the same disagreement is found amongst deontologists and utilitarians. Some believe that their normative ethics can be placed on a secure basis, resistant to any form of scepticism, such as what anyone rationally desires, or would accept or agree on, regardless of their ethical outlook; others that it cannot.

Virtue ethicists have eschewed any attempt to ground virtue ethics in an external foundation while continuing to maintain that their claims can be validated. Some follow a form of Rawls's coherentist approach (Slote 2001; Swanton 2003); neo-Aristotelians a form of ethical naturalism.

A misunderstanding of eudaimonia as an unmoralized concept leads some critics to suppose that the neo-Aristotelians are attempting to ground their claims in a scientific account of human nature and what counts, for a human being, as flourishing. Others assume that, if this is not what they are doing, they cannot be validating their claims that, for example, justice, charity, courage, and generosity are virtues. Either they are illegitimately helping themselves to Aristotle's discredited natural teleology (Williams 1985) or producing mere rationalizations of their own personal or culturally inculcated values. But McDowell, Foot, MacIntyre and Hursthouse have all outlined versions of a third way between these two extremes. Eudaimonia in virtue ethics, is indeed a moralized concept, but it is not only that. Claims about what constitutes flourishing for human beings no more float free of scientific facts about what human beings are like than ethological claims about what constitutes flourishing for elephants. In both cases, the truth of the claims depends in part on what kind of animal they are and what capacities, desires and interests the humans or elephants have.

The best available science today (including evolutionary theory and psychology) supports rather than undermines the ancient Greek assumption that we are social animals, like elephants and wolves and unlike polar bears. No rationalizing explanation in terms of anything like a social contract is needed to explain why we choose to live together, subjugating our egoistic desires in order to secure the advantages of co-operation. Like other social animals, our natural impulses are not solely directed towards our own pleasures and preservation, but include altruistic and cooperative ones.

This basic fact about us should make more comprehensible the claim that the virtues are at least partially constitutive of human flourishing and also undercut the objection that virtue ethics is, in some sense, egoistic.

(g) The egoism objection has a number of sources. One is a simple confusion. Once it is understood that the fully virtuous agent characteristically does what she should without inner conflict, it is triumphantly asserted that "she is only doing what she wants to do and hence is being selfish." So when the generous person gives gladly, as the generous are wont to do, it turns out she is not generous and unselfish after all, or at least not as generous as the one who greedily wants to hang on to everything she has but forces herself to give because she thinks she should! A related version ascribes bizarre reasons to the virtuous agent, unjustifiably assuming that she acts as she does because she believes that acting thus on this occasion will help her to achieve eudaimonia. But "the virtuous agent" is just "the agent with the virtues" and it is part of our ordinary understanding of the virtue terms that each carries with it its own typical range of reasons for acting. The virtuous agent acts as she does because she believes that someone's suffering will be averted, or someone benefited, or the truth established, or a debt repaid, or ... thereby.

It is the exercise of the virtues during one's life that is held to be at least partially constitutive of eudaimonia, and this is consistent with recognising that bad luck may land the virtuous agent in circumstances that require her to give up her life. Given the sorts of considerations that courageous, honest, loyal, charitable people wholeheartedly recognise as reasons for action, they may find themselves compelled to face danger for a worthwhile end, to speak out in someone's defence, or refuse to reveal the names of their comrades, even when they know that this will inevitably lead to their execution, to share their last crust and face starvation. On the view that the exercise of the virtues is necessary but not sufficient for eudaimonia, such cases are described as those in which the virtuous agent sees that, as things have unfortunately turned out, eudaimonia is not possible for them (Foot 2001, 95). On the Stoical view that it is both necessary and sufficient, a eudaimon life is a life that has been successfully lived (where "success" of course is not to be understood in a materialistic way) and such people die knowing not only that they have made a success of their lives but that they have also brought their lives to a markedly successful completion. Either way, such heroic acts can hardly be regarded as egoistic.

A lingering suggestion of egoism may be found in the misconceived distinction between so-called "self-regarding" and "other-regarding" virtues. Those who have been insulated from the ancient tradition tend to regard justice and benevolence as real virtues, which benefit others but not their possessor, and prudence, fortitude and providence (the virtue whose opposite is "improvidence" or being a spendthrift) as not real virtues at all because they benefit only their possessor. This is a mistake on two counts. Firstly, justice and benevolence do, in general, benefit their possessors, since without them eudaimonia is not possible. Secondly, given that we live together, as social animals, the "self-regarding" virtues do benefit others-those who lack them are a great drain on, and sometimes grief to, those who are close to them (as parents with improvident or imprudent adult offspring know only too well).

The most recent objection (h) to virtue ethics claims that work in "situationist" social psychology shows that there are no such things as character traits and thereby no such things as virtues for virtue ethics to be about (Doris 1998; Harman 1999). In reply, some virtue ethicists have argued that the social psychologists' studies are irrelevant to the multi-track disposition (see above) that a virtue is supposed to be (Sreenivasan 2002; Kamtekar 2004). Mindful of just how multi-track it is, they agree that it would be reckless in the extreme to ascribe a demanding virtue such as charity to people of whom they know no more than that they have exhibited conventional decency; this would indeed be "a fundamental attribution error." Others have worked to develop alternative, empirically grounded conceptions of character traits (Snow 2010; Miller 2013 and 2014; however see Upton 2016 for objections to Miller). There have been other responses as well (summarized helpfully in Prinz 2009 and Miller 2014). Notable among these is a response by Adams (2006, echoing Merritt 2000) who steers a middle road between "no character traits at all" and the exacting standard of the Aristotelian conception of virtue which, because of its emphasis on phronesis, requires a high level of character integration. On his conception, character traits may be "frail and fragmentary" but still virtues, and not uncommon. But giving up the idea that practical wisdom is the heart of all the virtues, as Adams has to do, is a substantial sacrifice, as Russell (2009) and Kamtekar (2010) argue.

Even though the "situationist challenge" has left traditional virtue ethicists unmoved, it has generated a healthy engagement with empirical psychological literature, which has also been fuelled by the growing literature on Foot's Natural Goodness and, quite independently, an upsurge of interest in character education (see below).

4. Future Directions

Over the past thirty-five years most of those contributing to the revival of virtue ethics have worked within a neo-Aristotelian, eudaimonist framework. However, as noted in section 2, other forms of virtue ethics have begun to emerge. Theorists have begun to turn to philosophers like Hutcheson, Hume, Nietzsche, Martineau, and Heidegger for resources they might use to develop alternatives (see Russell 2006; Swanton 2013 and 2015; Taylor 2015; and Harcourt 2015). Others have turned their attention eastward, exploring Confucian, Buddhist, and Hindu traditions (Yu 2007; Slingerland 2011; Finnigan and Tanaka 2011; McRae 2012; Angle and Slote 2013; Davis 2014; Flanagan 2015; Perrett and Pettigrove 2015; and Sim 2015). These explorations promise to open up new avenues for the development of virtue ethics.

Although virtue ethics has grown remarkably in the last thirty-five years, it is still very much in the minority, particularly in the area of applied ethics. Many editors of big textbook collections on "moral problems" or "applied ethics" now try to include articles representative of each of the three normative approaches but are often unable to find a virtue ethics article addressing a particular issue. This is sometimes, no doubt, because "the" issue has been set up as a deontologicial/utilitarian debate, but it is often simply because no virtue ethicist has yet written on the topic. However, the last decade has seen an increase in the amount of attention applied virtue ethics has received (Walker and Ivanhoe 2007; Hartman 2013; Austin 2014; Van Hooft 2014; and Annas 2015). This area can certainly be expected to grow in the future, and it looks as though applying virtue ethics in the field of environmental ethics may prove particularly fruitful (Sandler 2007; Hursthouse 2007, 2011; Zwolinski and Schmidtz 2013; Cafaro 2015).

Whether virtue ethics can be expected to grow into "virtue politics"-i.e. to extend from moral philosophy into political philosophy-is not so clear. Gisela Striker (2006) has argued that Aristotle's ethics cannot be understood adequately without attending to its place in his politics. That suggests that at least those virtue ethicists who take their inspiration from Aristotle should have resources to offer for the development of virtue politics. But, while Plato and Aristotle can be great inspirations as far as virtue ethics is concerned, neither, on the face of it, are attractive sources of insight where politics is concerned. However, recent work suggests that Aristotelian ideas can, after all, generate a satisfyingly liberal political philosophy (Nussbaum 2006; LeBar 2013a). Moreover, as noted above, virtue ethics does not have to be neo-Aristotelian. It may be that the virtue ethics of Hutcheson and Hume can be naturally extended into a modern political philosophy (Hursthouse 1990-91; Slote 1993).

Following Plato and Aristotle, modern virtue ethics has always emphasised the importance of moral education, not as the inculcation of rules but as the training of character. There is now a growing movement towards virtues education, amongst both academics (Carr 1999; Athanassoulis 2014; Curren 2015) and teachers in the classroom. One exciting thing about research in this area is its engagement with other academic disciplines, including psychology, educational theory, and theology (see Cline 2015; and Snow 2015).

Finally, one of the more productive developments of virtue ethics has come through the study of particular virtues and vices. There are now a number of careful studies of the cardinal virtues and capital vices (Pieper 1966; Taylor 2006; Curzer 2012; Timpe and Boyd 2014). Others have explored less widely discussed virtues or vices, such as civility, decency, truthfulness, ambition, and meekness (Calhoun 2000; Kekes 2002; Williams 2002; and Pettigrove 2007 and 2012). One of the questions these studies raise is "How many virtues are there?" A second is, "How are these virtues related to one another?" Some virtue ethicists have been happy to work on the assumption that there is no principled reason for limiting the number of virtues and plenty of reason for positing a plurality of them (Swanton 2003; Battaly 2015). Others have been concerned that such an open-handed approach to the virtues will make it difficult for virtue ethicists to come up with an adequate account of right action or deal with the conflict problem discussed above. Dan Russell has proposed cardinality and a version of the unity thesis as a solution to what he calls "the enumeration problem" (the problem of too many virtues). The apparent proliferation of virtues can be significantly reduced if we group virtues together with some being cardinal and others subordinate extensions of those cardinal virtues. Possible conflicts between the remaining virtues can then be managed if they are tied together in some way as part of a unified whole (Russell 2009). This highlights two important avenues for future research, one of which explores individual virtues and the other of which analyses how they might be related to one another.

Bibliography

Adams, Robert Merrihew, 1999, Finite and Infinite Goods, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2006, A Theory of Virtue, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2010, "A theory of virtue: response to critics", Philosophical Studies, 148 (1): 159-65.

Angle, Stephen and Michael Slote (eds), 2013, Virtue Ethics and Confucianism, New York: Routledge.

Annas, Julia, 1993, The Morality of Happiness, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 1999, Platonic Ethics, Old and New, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2004, "Being Virtuous and Doing the Right Thing", Proceedings of the American Philosophical Association, Presidential Address, 78 (2): 61-75.

---, 2006, "Virtue Ethics", in David Copp (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Ethical Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 515-36.

---, 2009, "Virtue Ethics and the Charge of Egoism", in Paul Bloomfield (ed.), Morality and Self-Interest, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 205-21.

---, 2011, Intelligent Virtue, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2015, "Applying Virtue to Ethics", Journal of Applied Philosophy, 32 (1): 1-14.

Anscombe, G.E.M., 1958, "Modern Moral Philosophy", Philosophy, 33: 1-19.

Athanassoulis, Nafsika, 2000, "A Response to Harman: Virtue Ethics and Character Traits", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society (New Series), 100: 215-21.

---, 2014, "Educating for Virtue", in van Hooft (2014), pp. 440-450.

Audi, Robert, 2009, "Moral Virtue and Reasons for Action", Philosophical Issues, 19: 1-20.

Austin, Michael, 2013, "Is Humility a Virtue in the Context of Sport?", Journal of Applied Philosophy, 31 (2): 203-214.

Badhwar, Neera, 1996, "The Limited Unity of Virtue", Noûs, 30: 306-29.

---, 2014, Well-Being: Happiness in a Worthwhile Life, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bailey, Olivia, 2010, "What Knowledge is Necessary for Virtue?", Journal of Ethics and Social Philosophy 4 (2): 1-17.

Baril, Anne, 2014, "Eudaimonia in Contemporary Virtue Ethics", in van Hooft (2014), pp. 17-27.

Battaly, Heather (ed.), 2010, Virtue and Vice, Moral and Epistemic, a pair of special issues of Metaphilosophy, 41(1/2).

---, 2015, "A Pluralist Theory of Virtue", in Mark Alfano (ed.), Current Controversies in Virtue Theory, New York: Routledge, pp. 7-21.

Baxley, Anne Margaret, 2007, "The Price of Virtue", Pacific Philosophical Quarterly, 88: 403-23.

Besser-Jones, Lorraine, 2008, "Social Psychology, Moral Character and Moral Fallibility", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 76: 310-32.

--- and Michael Slote (eds), 2015, The Routledge Companion to Virtue Ethics, New York: Routledge.

Bloomfield, Paul, 2014, The Virtues of Happiness: A Theory of the Good Life, New York: Oxford University Press.

Brady, Michael S., 2004, "Against Agent-Based Virtue Ethics", Philosophical Papers, 33: 1-10.

---, 2005, "The Value of the Virtues", Philosophical Studies, 125: 85-144.

Cafaro, Philip (ed.), 2010, Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics, 23 (1/2). Special edition on environmental virtue ethics.

---, 2015, "Environmental Virtue Ethics", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 427-444.

---, and Ronald D. Sandler (eds.), 2010, Virtue Ethics and the Environment, New York: Springer.

Calhoun, Cheshire, 2000, "The Virtue of Civility", Philosophy and Public Affairs, 29 (3): 251-275.

Carr, David and Jan Steutel (eds.), 1999, Virtue Ethics and Moral Education, New York: Routledge.

Chappell, T. (ed.), 2006, Values and Virtues, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2014, Knowing What to Do, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Clarke, Bridget, 2010, "Virtue and Disagreement", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 13: 273-91.

Cline, Erin, 2015, Families of Virtue: Confucian and Western Views on Childhood Development, New York: Columbia University Press.

Cocking, Dean and Justin Oakley, 2001, Virtue Ethics and Professional Roles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Crisp, Roger (ed.), 1996, How Should One Live? Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Crisp, Roger and Michael Slote (eds.), 1997, Virtue Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Curren, Randall, 2015, "Virtue Ethics and Moral Education", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 459-470.

Curzer, Howard, 2002, "Admirable Immorality, Dirty Hands, Care Ethics, Justice Ethics, and Child Sacrifice", Ratio, 15: 227-244.

---, 2010, "An Aristotelian Critique of the Traditional Family", American Philosophical Quarterly: 103-15.

---, 2012, Aristotle and the Virtues, New York: Oxford University Press.

Davis, Leesa, 2014, "Mindfulness, Non-Attachment and Other Buddhist Virtues", in van Hooft (2014), pp. 306-317.

Dent, N.J.H., 1984, The Moral Psychology of the Virtues, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

DePaul, Michael and Linda Zagzebski (eds.), 2003, Intellectual Virtue: Perspectives from Ethics and Epistemology, New York: Oxford University Press.

Doris, John M., 1998, "Persons, Situations and Virtue Ethics", Noûs, 32 (4): 504-30.

---, 2010, "Heated Agreement: Lack of Character as Being for the Good", Philosophical Studies, 148 (1): 135-146.

Driver, Julia, 2001, Uneasy Virtue, New York: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2004, "Response to my Critics", Utilitas, 16: 33-41.

Finnigan, Bronwyn and Koji Tanaka, 2011, "Ethics for Madhyamikas", in Dreyfus et al., Moonshadows: Conventional Truth in Buddhist Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 221-231.

Flanagan, Owen, 2015, "It Takes a Metaphysics: Raising Virtuous Buddhists", in Snow (2015), pp. 171-196.

Foot, Philippa, 1978, Virtues and Vices, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 1994, "Rationality and Virtue", in H. Pauer-Studer (ed.), Norms, Values and Society, Amsterdam: Kluwer, pp. 205-16.

---, 1995, "Does Moral Subjectivism Rest on a Mistake?", Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 15: 1-14.

---, 2001, Natural Goodness, Oxford, Clarendon Press.

Friedman, Marilyn, 2009, "Feminist Virtue Ethics, Happiness and Moral Luck", Hypatia, 24: 29-40.

Gardiner, Stephen (ed.), 2005, Virtue Ethics, Old and New, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Geach, Peter, 1956, "Good and Evil", Analysis, 17: 33-42.

---, 1977, The Virtues, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Goldie, Peter, 2004, On Personality, London: Routledge.

Gowans, Christopher W., 2011, "Virtue Ethics and Moral Relativism", in Stephen D. Hales (ed.), A Companion to Relativism, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 391-410.

Hacker-Wright, John, 2007, "Moral Status in Virtue Ethics", Philosophy, 82: 449-73.

---, 2010, "Virtue Ethics Without Right Action: Anscombe, Foot and Contemporary Virtue Ethics", Journal of Value Inquiry, 44: 209-24.

Halwani, Raja, 2003, Virtuous Liaisons, Chicago: Open Court.

Harcourt, Edward, 2015, "Nietzsche and the Virtues", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 165-179.

Harman, G., 1999, "Moral Philosophy Meets Social Psychology: Virtue Ethics and the Fundamental Attribution Error", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society (New Series), 119: 316-31.

---, 2009, "Scepticism About Character Traits", Journal of Ethics, 13: 235-42.

Hartman, Edwin, 2013, "The Virtue Approach to Business Ethics", in Russell (2013), pp. 240-264.

Hudson, Stephen, 1986, Human Character and Morality, Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Hurka, Thomas, 2001, Virtue, Vice, and Value, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2006, "Virtuous Act, Virtuous Dispositions", Analysis, 66: 69-76.

Hursthouse, Rosalind, 1990-1, "After Hume's Justice", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 91: 229-45.

---, 1999, On Virtue Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2007, "Environmental Virtue Ethics", in Walker and Ivanhoe 2007, pp. 155-172.

---, 2011, "Virtue Ethics and the Treatment of Animals", in Tom L. Beauchamp and R. G. Frey (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Animal Ethics, New York, Oxford University Press, pp. 119-143.

Johnson, Robert N., 2003, "Virtue and Right", Ethics, 133: 810-34.

---, 2007, "Was Kant a Virtue Ethicist?", in Monica Betzler (ed.), Kant's Ethics of Virtue, Berlin: De Gruyter Verlag, pp. 61-76.

Kamtekar, Rachana, 1998, "Imperfect Virtue", Ancient Philosophy, 18: 315-339.

---, 2004, "Situationism and Virtue Ethics on the Content of Our Character", Ethics, 114: 458-91.

---, 2010, "Comments on Robert Adams, A theory of virtue: excellence in being for the good", Philosophical Studies, 148 (1): 147-158.

Kawall, Jason, 2009, "In Defence of the Primacy of Virtues", Journal of Ethics and Social Philosophy, 3 (2): 1-21.

Keller, Simon, 2007, "Virtue Ethics is Self-Effacing", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 85 (2): 221-32.

Kekes, John, 2002, The Art of Life, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Kraut, Richard, 1989, Aristotle on the Human Good, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Kristjánsson, K., 2008, "An Aristotelian Critique of Situationism", Philosophy, 83: 55-76.

Kupperman, Joel J., 2001, "The Indispensability of Character", Philosophy, 76: 239-50.

---, 2009, "Virtue in Virtue Ethics", Journal of Ethics, 13: 243-55.

LeBar, Mark, 2009, "Virtue Ethics and Deontic Constraints", Ethics, 119: 642-71.

---, 2010, "Prichard vs. Plato: Intuition vs. Reflection", in Sam Black and Evan Tiffany (eds.), Reasons to be Moral Revisited: Canadian Journal of Philosophy Supplementary, Alberta: University of Calgary Press, pp. 1-32.

---, 2013a, "Virtue and Politics", in Russell (2013), pp. 265-289.

---, 2013b, The Value of Living Well, New York: Oxford University Press.

MacIntyre, Alasdair, 1985, After Virtue, London: Duckworth, 2nd Edition.

---, 1999, Dependent Rational Animals, Chicago: Open Court.

McAleer, Sean, 2007, "An Aristotelian Account of Virtue Ethics: An Essay in Moral Taxonomy", Pacific Philosophical Quarterly, 88: 308-25.

---, 2010, "Four Solutions to the Alleged Incompleteness of Virtue Ethics", Journal of Ethics and Social Philosophy 4 (3): 1-20.

McDowell, John, 1979, "Virtue and Reason", Monist, 62: 331-50.

---, 1995, "Two Sorts of Naturalism", in Virtues and Reasons, R. Hursthouse, G. Lawrence and W. Quinn (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 149-79.

McRae, Emily, 2012, "A Passionate Buddhist Life?", Journal of Religious Ethics, 40 (1): 99-121.

Martinez, Joel, 2011, "Is Virtue Ethics Self-Effacing?", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 89 (2): 277-88.

Merritt, M., 2000, "Virtue Ethics and Situationist Personality Psychology", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 3: 365-83.

Miller, Christian, 2013, Moral Character: An Empirical Theory, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2014, Character and Moral Psychology, New York: Oxford University Press.

Murdoch, Iris, 1971, The Sovereignty of Good, London: Routledge.

Nussbaum, Martha C., 1990, "Aristotelian Social Democracy", in R. Douglass, G. Mara, and H. Richardson (eds.), Liberalism and the Good, New York: Routledge, pp. 203-52.

---, 1993, "Non-Relative Virtues: An Aristotelian Approach", in The Quality of Life, Martha C. Nussbaum and Amartya Sen (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 242-70.

---, 2006, Frontiers of Justice, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Oakley, Justin, 2013, "Virtue Ethics and Bioethics", in Russell (2013), pp. 197-220.

Perrett, Roy and Glen Pettigrove, 2015, "Hindu Virtue Ethics", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 51-62.

Pettigrove, Glen, 2007, "Ambitions", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 10 (1): 53-68.

---, 2011, "Is Virtue Ethics Self-Effacing?", Journal of Ethics, 15 (3): 191-207.

---, 2012, "Meekness and 'Moral' Anger", Ethics, 122 (2): 341-370.

---, 2014, "Virtue Ethics, Virtue Theory, and Moral Theology", in van Hooft (2014), pp. 88-104.

Pieper, Josef, 1966, The Four Cardinal Virtues, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.

Prinz, Jesse, 2009, "The Normativity Challenge: Cultural Psychology Provides the Real Threat to Virtue Ethics", Journal of Ethics, 13: 117-44.

Prior, William, 1991, Virtue and Knowledge: An Introduction to Ancient Greek Ethics, New York: Routledge.

---, 2001, "Eudaimonism and Virtue",Journal of Value Inquiry, 35: 325-342.

Reshotko, Naomi, 2006, Socratic Virtue: Making the Best of the Neither-Good-Nor-Bad, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Russell, Daniel C., 2008a, "Agent-Based Virtue Ethics and the Fundamentality of Virtue", American Philosophical Quarterly, 45: 329-48.

---, 2008b, "That 'Ought' Does Not Imply 'Right': Why It Matters for Virtue Ethics", Southern Journal of Philosophy, 46: 299-315.

---, 2009, Practical Intelligence and the Virtues, New York: Oxford University Press.

--- (ed.), 2013, The Cambridge Companion to Virtue Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Russell, Paul, 2006, "Moral Sense and Virtue in Hume's Ethics", in Chappell (2006), pp. 158-170.

Sandler, Ronald, 2007, Character and Environment: A Virtue-Oriented Approach to Environmental Ethics, New York: Columbia University Press.

Sim, May, 2015, "Why Confucius' Ethics is a Virtue Ethics", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 63-76.

Slingerland, Edward, 2011, "The Situationist Critique and Early Confucian Virtue Ethics", Ethics, 121 (2): 390-419.

Slote, Michael, 1993, "Virtue Ethics and Democratic Values", Journal of Social Philosophy, 14: 5-37.

---, 1997, "Virtue Ethics", in Marcia Baron, Philip Pettit, and Michael Slote, Three Methods of Ethics, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 175-238.

---, 2001, Morals from Motives, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2010, Moral Sentimentalism, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2011, The Impossibility of Perfection: Aristotle, Feminism, and the Complexities of Ethics, New York, Oxford University Press.

Smith, Nicholas R., 2016, "Right-Makers and the Targets of the Virtues", Journal of Value Inquiry, doi 10.1007/s10790-016-9571-8.

Snow, Nancy, 2010, Virtue as Social Intelligence: An Empirically Grounded Theory, New York: Routledge.

--- (ed.), 2015, Cultivating Virtue, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Solomon, David, 1988, "Internal Objections to Virtue Ethics", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 13: 428-41, reprinted in Statman 1997.

Sreenivasan, Gopal, 2002, "Errors about Errors: Virtue Theory and Trait Attribution", Mind, 111 (January): 47-68.

Statman, D. (ed.), 1997, Virtue Ethics, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Stichter, Matt, 2011, "Virtues, Skills, and Right Action", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 14: 73-86.

Striker, Gisela, 2006, "Aristotle's Ethics as Political Science", in Burkhard Reis (ed.), The Virtuous Life in Greek Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 127-141.

Stocker, Michael, 1976, "The Schizophrenia of Modern Ethical Theories", Journal of Philosophy, 14: 453-66.

Svensson, Frans, 2010, "Virtue Ethics and the Search for an Account of Right Action", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 13: 255-71.

Swanton, Christine, 2003, Virtue Ethics: A Pluralistic View, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2009, "Virtue Ethics and the Problem of Demandingness", in T. Chappell (ed.), The Problem of Moral Demandingness: New Philosophical Essays, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 104-122.

---, 2011a, "Nietzsche and the Virtues of Mature Egoism", in Simon May (ed.), Cambridge Critical Guide to Nietzsche's 'On the Genealogy of Morality', Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 285-308.

---, 2011b, "Virtue Ethics", in Christian Miller (ed.), The Continuum Companion to Ethics, New York: Continuum, 190-213.

---, 2013, "A New Metaphysics for Virtue Ethics: Heidegger Meets Hume", in Julia Peters (ed.), Aristotelian Ethics in Contemporary Perspective, New York: Routledge, pp. 177-194.

---, 2015, The Virtue Ethics of Hume and Nietzsche, Oxford: Wiley Blackwell.

Taylor, Gabriele, 2006, Deadly Vices, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Taylor, Jacqueline, 2015, "Hume", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 155-164.

Tessman, Lisa, 2005, Burdened Virtues, New York: Oxford University Press. [And see 2008,Hypatia, 23 (3) for her "Reply to Critics": 205-216.]

Timpe, Kevin and Craig Boyd (eds), 2014, Virtues and Their Vices, New York: Oxford University Press.

Toner, Christopher, 2006, "The Self-Centeredness Objection to Virtue Ethics", Philosophy, 81: 595-618.

---, 2010, "Virtue Ethics and The Nature and Forms of Egoism", Journal of Philosophical Research, 35: 323-52.

Upton, Candace (ed.), 2009, Virtue Ethics and Moral Psychology: The Situationism Debate, a pair of special issues ofThe Journal of Ethics, 13 (2/3).

---, 2016, "The Empirical Argument Against Virtue", Journal of Ethics, 20: 335-371.

van Hooft, Stan (ed.), 2014, The Handbook of Virtue Ethics, Durham: Acumen.

van Zyl, Liezl, 2009, "Agent-Based Virtue Ethics and the Problem of Action Guidance", Journal of Moral Philosophy, 6 (1): 50-69.

---, 2010, "Right Action and the Non-Virtuous Agent", Journal of Applied Philosophy, 28 (1): 80-92.

---, 2014, "Right Action and the Targets of Virtue", in van Hooft (2014), pp. 118-129.

Walker, Rebecca L. and Philip J. Ivanhoe (eds.), 2007, Working Virtue, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Watson, Gary, 1990, "On the Primacy of Character", in Flanagan and Rorty, pp. 449-83, reprinted in Statman, 1997.

Welchman, Jennifer (ed.), 2006, The Practice of Virtue: Classic and Contemporary Readings in Virtue Ethics, Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company.

White, Nicholas, 2015, "Plato and the Ethics of Virtue", in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 3-15.

Williams, Bernard, 1985, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

---, 2002, Truth and Truthfulness, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Yu, Jiyuan, 2007, The Ethics of Confucius and Aristotle: Mirrors of Virtue, New York: Routledge.

Zagzebski, Linda, 1996, Virtues of the Mind, New York: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1998, "The Virtues of God and the Foundations of Ethics", Faith and Philosophy, 15 (4): 538-553.

---, 2004, Divine Motivation Theory, New York: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2010, "Exemplarist Virtue Theory", Metaphilosophy, 41(1/2): 41-57.

Zwolinski, Matt and David Schmidtz, 2013, "Environmental Virtue Ethics", in Russell (2013), pp. 221-239.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In the West, virtue ethics' founding fathers are Plato and Aristotle, and in the East it can be traced back to Mencius and Confucius. It persisted as the dominant approach in Western moral philosophy until at least the Enlightenment, suffered a momentary eclipse during the nineteenth century, but re-emerged in Anglo-American philosophy in the late 1950s.

# data[].attributes.body
This book tackles key concepts in moral questioning, such as birth, death, happiness, desire, and freedom, and how to think about the meaning of life.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
4.9 Metaethics: Crash Course Philosophy #32

# data[].attributes.subject
4.9 Metaethics: Crash Course Philosophy #32

# data[].attributes.body
This video exlpains three forms of moral realism – moral absolutism, cultural relativism (including the difference between descriptive and normative cultural relativism), and moral subjectivism (a form of moral antirealism).

# data[].attributes.headline
4.10 Having a Rough Story about What Moral Philosophy Is

# data[].attributes.subject
4.10 Having a Rough Story about What Moral Philosophy Is

# data[].attributes.body
This paper discusses metaethics in a narrative way, without using much technical jargon.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Having a Rough Story about What Moral Philosophy Is on JSTOR

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Cora Diamond, Having a Rough Story about What Moral Philosophy Is, New Literary History, Vol. 15, No. 1, Literature and/as Moral Philosophy (Autumn, 1983), pp. 155-169

# data[].attributes.headline
4.11 An Introduction to Normative Ethics

# data[].attributes.subject
4.11 An Introduction to Normative Ethics

# data[].attributes.body
This video introduces the concept of normative ethics as well as three "umbrella theories" (consequentialism, deontology, and virtue ethics), with clear examples for each.

# data[].attributes.body
This paper introduces deontological, teleological, consequential and character-based ethical theories.

# data[].attributes.headline
4.13 How to Defend a Normative Ethical Theory

# data[].attributes.subject
4.13 How to Defend a Normative Ethical Theory

# data[].attributes.body
This paper begins with an introduction to normative ethical theories, and moves on to explain how to partially or completely defend a normative ethical theory.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Introduction

There is more than one theory about how we should act.... What's more, these different theories are genuine rivals; they are not merely alternative ways of saying the very same thing. They disagree-not always, to be sure, but sometimes-about precisely which acts are morally permitted, required, or forbidden. Since they disagree, they cannot all be right: we must choose between them. But what is to guide our choice? On what grounds are we to accept or reject a normative theory? How can a moral claim be defended? ( Kagan, 1998: p. 11 [italics in original]).

Shelly Kagan's questions presuppose answers to several others. For example: What is a theory? What types of theory are there? Do different types of theory have a common (or single) purpose? If so, what is it? How does one go about defending a theory? Are there different types of defense for different types of theory? Are there different types of defense for a given type of theory? If so, what are they?

The purpose of this article is to explain how one goes about defending a normative ethical theory. During the course of this explanation, I answer all of the questions just posed. Specifically, I explain how to provide (what I call) "a complete defense" of a normative ethical theory. I shall use as my example the theory known as "ethical egoism" (hereafter "egoism"). ¹ This theory may not have as many adherents as other theories (such as utilitarianism, Kantianism, and contractarianism), but it has an ancient and respectable lineage. Most contemporary textbooks on ethics discuss it, if only to find fault with it. Scholarly monographs and articles continue to be written about it, some glowingly and some vituperatively. (One philosopher goes so far as to call the theory-and, by implication, those who subscribe to it-"pernicious" and "wicked" [Rachels, 1974: pp. 297, 298].) Almost nobody is indifferent to it.

2. What Is a Theory?

[A] moral theory involves the attempt to explain the nature of morality. More precisely, that part of a moral theory concerned with right and wrong action-its theory of right conduct-attempts to explain the nature of right and wrong action by locating those features of actions, persons, and situations that make an act right or wrong ( Timmons, 2002: p. 246 [italics in original]).

Let us begin at the beginning, by answering the questions posed in the first paragraph of the article. A theory, in simple terms, is an explanation (or account) of why things are as they are. ² The things in question may be of any sort. A physical theory is an account of physical objects as such-of why they possess the properties and relations they do. A biological theory is an account of living organisms as such-of how and why they develop as they do, behave as they do, and possess the properties they do. An economic theory is an account of economic phenomena, such as wages, prices, unemployment, and currency inflation. A psychological theory is an account of psychological phenomena, such as belief, intention, motivation, learning, and emotion. A normative ethical theory is an explanation, or account, of why concrete acts ³ possess the properties they do-properties such as rightness, fairness, goodness, justice, and praiseworthiness. (A given act may be right or wrong; fair or unfair; good, bad, or indifferent; just or unjust; praiseworthy or blameworthy.)

Theories are Janus-faced, in that they are both backward-looking and forward-looking. A scientific theory, whether natural or social, both explains what is (including how it came to be) and serves as the basis for predicting and controlling events (including human actions). These events are necessarily in the future. A normative ethical theory provides an account of right-making characteristics, but also provides a reason for action. To someone who is motivated to do the right thing, but who doesn't know what the right thing is, an account of what makes an act right (as opposed to wrong) is useful knowledge. For example, if what makes an act right is that it maximizes overall happiness, and I know this, then, to the extent that I desire to act rightly, I will strive to maximize overall happiness. This, incidentally, is what it means to say that a theory is normative (as opposed to positive). It identifies norms or standards by which, or in accordance with which, one may guide one's behavior.

A person can be interested in the backward-looking aspect of a theory without being interested in its forward-looking aspect. In physical theory, for example, one may have no interest in predicting the behavior of physical objects (although, as a matter of fact, most physicists are interested in prediction). In economic theory, one may have no interest in controlling economic events (although, as a matter of fact, most economists are interested in control). By the same token, a normative ethical theorist may have no interest in using the theory to guide action. He or she may simply want to understand what it is that makes right acts right and wrong acts wrong. The interest of such a person is theoretical rather than practical. The theorist seeks a criterion (of rightness) rather than a decision-making procedure.

3. Normative Ethical Theories

Moral philosophy has a rich and fascinating history. A great many thinkers have approached the subject from a wide variety of perspectives, producing theories that both attract and repel the thoughtful reader. Almost all the classical theories contain plausible elements, which is hardly surprising, considering that they were devised by philosophers of undoubted genius. Yet the various theories are not consistent with one another, and most are vulnerable to crippling objections. After reviewing them, one is left wondering what to believe. What, in the final analysis, is the truth? (Rachels & Rachels, 2007: p. 191).

Now that we have identified the common feature of theories, or that which makes them theories and not something else, let us focus in the remainder of this article on normative ethical theories. Ultimately, we want to know how one goes about defending a theory of that sort.

A normative ethical theory is a statement of necessary and sufficient conditions for moral rightness. A condition is necessary when it must be satisfied in order for a particular act to be right. A condition is sufficient when its satisfaction is enough (i.e., all it takes) for the act in question to be right. Think of a normative ethical theory as a sorting device. It sorts concrete acts into two jointly exhaustive and mutually exclusive categories: "right" (i.e., permissible) and "wrong" (impermissible). Different theories sort acts differently. This doesn't mean that there is no overlap between the theories, for two or more theories may sort the same act as "right" (or "wrong"). What it means is that no two theories sort acts in exactly the same way. If they did, they would be one theory and not two. ⁴

Normative ethical theories are rivals for allegiance. Think of the various theories as contending (or competing) for adherents (or subscribers). For any two normative ethical theories, it is logically impossible for both to be true, but logically possible for both to be false. For example, egoism and act utilitarianism cannot both be true, because they provide different criteria for moral rightness. But both can be false. Kantianism or contractarianism (or some other theory) may be the true or correct account of moral rightness. Propositions that cannot both be true, but can both be false, are said to be contraries (as opposed to contradictories, which cannot both be true and cannot both be false). ⁵ Normative ethical theories are contraries (of one another). It could turn out that all extant normative ethical theories are false. Perhaps the true or correct account of moral rightness has yet to be discovered (or formulated).

4. Defending a Normative Ethical Theory

If one holds a view in moral philosophy, how is it to be supported? Basically, there are two ways. One is to argue in favor of one's own position either positively by stating reasons for holding it or defensively by answering objections to it. The other is to show that there are problems with alternative views (West, 2004: p. 28).

A complete defense of a normative ethical theory has five components, which I call "underpinning," "undermining," "countermining," "attacking," and "repelling." As may be surmised, these terms are drawn from warfare. (Philosophy may be thought of as cognitive warfare.) For purposes of illustration, let egoism be our theory. Egoism has been formulated in different ways by different people (including by its opponents), ⁶ so let us pick a formulation that is clear and simple. According to textbook author Fred Feldman, egoism is the theory (or principle) that "an act is morally right if and only if no alternative to that act has higher agent utility than it has" (Feldman, 1978: p. 82). Agent utility is "the result of subtracting the sum of the doloric values of all the episodes of pain felt by the agent of the act as a result of the act, from the sum of the hedonic values of all the episodes of pleasure felt by the agent of the act as a result of the act" (Feldman, 1978: p. 82). Egoism may be thought of as the identification of morality with enlightened (i.e., long-term, rational) self-interest.

4.1. Underpinning ⁷

The first component of a complete defense is underpinning. This consists in providing reasons for the truth of one's theory (in this case, egoism). The idea is that the theory needs support (underpinning). I don't merely assert egoism, or claim that it is true; I argue for it. I provide reasons why others should believe it, accept it, adhere to it, subscribe to it, and (ultimately) act on it. Ideally, I, an egoist, would make every plausible argument for the truth of my theory.

How do I argue for (i.e., underpin) egoism? In his textbook entitled Introductory Ethics, Feldman asks, "What reason is there to believe that egoism is true? What arguments have been given in favor of this normative theory?" (Feldman, 1978: p. 86). He proceeds to discuss two arguments, which he calls "Closet Utilitarian Argument" and "Motivation Argument." Each of these arguments has as its conclusion the theory that we are calling egoism (formulated as above). Here, for example, is the Motivation Argument (Feldman, 1978: p. 89):

1) A person can perform an act only if that act has at least as much agent utility as any alternative.

2) A person is morally obligated to perform an act only if he can perform it.

3) If a person can perform an act only if that act has at least as much agent utility as any alternative, and if a person is morally obligated to perform an act only if he can perform it, then it is right for a person to perform an act if and only if it has at least as much agent utility as any alternative.

Therefore,

4) It is right for a person to perform an act if and only if it has at least as much agent utility as any alternative; in other words, egoism is true (from 1, 2, and 3).

Feldman concludes-after careful analysis-that the Motivation Argument is unsound, but that is neither here nor there as far as our discussion is concerned. My point in quoting the argument is simply to show the reader how one goes about underpinning a theory.

It must be kept in mind that while I am underpinning my theory (egoism), other theorists (act utilitarians and Kantians, for example) are underpinning their theories. Imagine a valley in which there are several fortifications, each of which represents a normative ethical theory. Those who inhabit the fortifications are at war with (and, as a result, wary of) each other. Each vies for the support not only of those who enter the valley from outside, but of those who inhabit other fortifications. There is a sense, therefore, in which the inhabitants of the various fortifications are rivals. They are competing with one another for adherents. To win adherents, they must remain viable. The stronger my fortification, the more likely it is to withstand assault from my (our) enemies. Underpinning is therefore best thought of as a defensive measure. As we shall see, some of the components of a complete defense of a normative ethical theory are defensive measures and some are offensive measures. A "complete defense" (as I call it) is neither purely defensive nor purely offensive; it is a mixture of the two.

4.2. Undermining ⁸

Here is an example of undermining. In his book Utilitarianism (1861), John Stuart Mill (1957) made a famous argument in favor of act utilitarianism (which he called, simply, "utilitarianism"). Feldman reconstructs "Mill's Proof" as follows: ⁹

1) Each person desires his own happiness.

2) If each person desires his own happiness, then each person can desire his own happiness.

3) If each person can desire his own happiness, then each person's happiness is desirable for that person.

4) If each person's happiness is desirable for that person, then each person's happiness is a good to that person.

Therefore,

5) Each person's happiness is a good to that person (from 1 through 4).

6) If each person's happiness is a good to that person, then the general happiness is a good to the aggregate of people.

7) If the general happiness is a good to the aggregate of people, then the general happiness is a criterion of morality.

Therefore,

8) The general happiness is a criterion of morality (from 5 through 7).

9) People can desire nothing other than parts of or means to happiness.

10) If people can desire nothing other than parts of or means to happiness, then nothing other than happiness is a criterion of morality.

Therefore,

11) Nothing other than happiness is a criterion of morality (from 9 and 10).

Therefore,

12) Happiness is the sole criterion of morality (from 8 and 11).

According to Feldman, the grand conclusion of this argument, proposition 12, is a paraphrase of act utilitarianism, which says that "[a]n act is right if and only if there is no other act the agent could have done instead that has higher utility than it has" (Feldman, 1978: p. 26). The argument, therefore, is an argument for (i.e., in support of) act utilitarianism. It is an attempt-by Mill-to underpin his theory.

Feldman is not impressed by Mill's argument. He says that it has several defects, including committing the fallacy of equivocation (by "fail[ing] to distinguish between two different senses of the word 'desirable'"), committing the fallacy of composition ("inferring from the fact that all the members of a group have a certain property, that the group as a whole has that property"), and being intolerably obscure ("What does Mill mean when he speaks of 'the general happiness'?"). Feldman's verdict is that Mill has produced "an extremely weak argument" (Feldman, 1978: p. 46).

If Feldman's verdict is correct, then he has undermined act utilitarianism. Metaphorically speaking, he has dug or excavated beneath the fortification (theory) so as to make it collapse. (We might say that the underpinning of the theory, by Mill, failed to support it.) In doing this, Feldman helps the egoist, the contractarian, the Kantian, and every other rival theorist. Ideally, as we saw earlier, I, an egoist, would criticize (find fault with) every argument for the truth of every rival theory. This is only an ideal, for, given various practical limitations (such as having a finite amount of time), no theorist could possibly find fault with more than a handful of arguments for each significant rival theory. I shall return to the divergence between the ideal and the non-ideal, or between theory and practice, in a subsequent section of the article.

Before leaving the topic of undermining, let me dispel a potential confusion. Suppose Jones shows that a particular argument for a particular rival theory is defective. Jones has undermined the theory by destroying one of its pins or pillars. This does not mean that Jones has proved the theory false. It may well be true. All Jones has done is destroy one of the theory's supports, or one reason for thinking the theory true. "Very well," Jones might say; "suppose I destroy all the theory's supports, i.e., all known arguments for the truth of the theory. Haven't I proved the theory false?" The answer is no. There may, despite Jones's best efforts, be an argument that proves the theory true. Creativity in philosophy consists largely in devising new arguments for and against various theories or theses.

We saw earlier that, while I am busy underpinning my theory, each rival theorist is doing the same with respect to his or her theory. The same phenomenon applies here. While I, an egoist, am undermining other theories (such as act utilitarianism), my rivals-act utilitarians, Kantians, contractarians, and others-are attempting to undermine my theory. Everyone is trying to undermine everyone else's theory! What, if anything, can I do about this?

4.3. Countermining ¹⁰

Let us turn to our second defensive measure. (The first was underpinning.) The third component of a complete defense is countermining, or countering an attempt to undermine. This consists in replying to the objections raised (by rival theorists) against my supporting arguments. Ideally, I, an egoist, would reply to every criticism of every argument for the truth of my theory. You may recall that I used Feldman's Motivation Argument as an example of underpinning. Feldman himself objects to this argument, claiming that two of its three premises-1 and 3-are false. In doing so, Feldman tries to undermine one of the supports for the theory (egoism).

It might be wondered whether I am the only theorist engaged in countermining. The answer is no. Recall that, in addition to underpinning and countermining, I am busy trying to undermine rival theories. As I do this, the proponents of those theories are doing their best to countermine my attempts to undermine. That is to say, they are busy replying to my objections to their arguments. Must I stand by as they do this? Of course not. I can (and should) try to find fault with their replies. I have not given a name to this strategy (of thwarting a countermine). Perhaps we could call it a "counter-countermining." In general, every strategy deployed in normative ethics can be met with a counter-strategy. I have arbitrarily limited the number of strategies to five, but I could just as easily have expanded the number to eight or 10 or more. Philosophical argumentation is like a tennis match. The ball goes from one side of the court to the other until someone either fails to hit it back (signifying defeat) or gets tired of playing (signifying boredom).

4.4. Attacking ¹¹

Let us turn to our second offensive measure. (The first was undermining.) The fourth component of a complete defense is attacking. This consists in constructing an argument for the falsity of a rival theory. Ideally, I, an egoist, would make every plausible argument for the falsity of every rival theory. The greater the number of sound arguments there are for the falsity of each rival theory, the better it is for my own theory. It must be borne in mind that no argument for the falsity of a rival theory, even if sound, shows that egoism is true. We saw earlier that rival theories are contraries, not contradictories (of one another). This means that they cannot all be true but may all be false. Even if I show that every rival of egoism is false, therefore, I do nothing to show that egoism is true. Egoism may be as false as its rivals.

What would an attack on a rival theory look like? Act utilitarianism is a rival of egoism, so let us use it as our example. To show that act utilitarianism is false (or, what comes to the same thing, not true), I argue as follows ( Feldman, 1978: p. 60 [not verbatim]):

1) If act utilitarianism is true, then the only moral reason for preferring one distribution of goods over another is that the one would produce more utility than the other.

2) It is not the case that the only moral reason for preferring one distribution of goods over another is that it would produce more utility than the other; another reason is that one might be more just than the other.

Therefore,

3) Act utilitarianism is not true (from 1 and 2).

Attacking is a way of eliminating rivals. I will need to make as many arguments as there are rivals, so as to eliminate all of them and leave my own theory, egoism, as the only one standing. Indeed, I will need to do more than this. I will need to make every (plausible) argument I can think of for the falsity of each rival. Egoism's rivals include act utilitarianism, rule utilitarianism, Kantianism, conventionalism, Hobbesian contractarianism, Rawlsian contractarianism, theological voluntarism, natural law, the Golden Rule, virtue theory, and Rossian pluralism. That is a lot of arguments! But remember: a complete defense is an (unattainable) ideal. In the real world, we will have to make do with less than the best. I will say more about this in the next section (Section 5) of the article.

4.5. Repelling ¹²

Let us turn to our third defensive measure. (The first two were underpinning and countermining.) Ideally, I, an egoist, would criticize (find fault with) every argument for the falsity of my theory. Feldman presents an argument that he believes "refutes" egoism. His argument makes reference to a hypothetical case, so, to understand the argument, we must recite the facts of the case:

A man is the treasurer of a large pension fund. He is entrusted with the job of keeping track of and investing the money deposited by the workers. When a worker retires, the worker is entitled to draw a weekly sum from the fund. Suppose the treasurer discovers that it will be possible for him to use all the money for his own selfish pleasure without being caught. Perhaps he wants to buy a large yacht and sail to a South Sea island, there to live out his days in idleness, indulgence, procreation, and, in a word, enjoyment. Since there is no extradition treaty between the South Sea island and the United States, he can get away with it (Feldman, 1978: p. 95).

Feldman continues:

Let us also suppose that if the treasurer does abscond with the funds, hundreds of old people will be deprived of their pensions. They will be heartbroken to discover that instead of living comfortably on the money they had put into the pension fund, they will have to suffer the pain and indignity of poverty (Feldman, 1978: p. 95).

The treasurer can perform either of two acts: first, steal the money, which (we will suppose) has agent utility of +10,000; second, leave the money where it is, which (we will suppose) has agent utility of −3. Since no alternative to the first act has higher agent utility than it has, the first act is right, according to egoism. Here is Feldman's argument ("Pension Argument") for the falsity (i.e., non-truth) of egoism ( Feldman, 1978: p. 96 [not verbatim]):

1) If egoism is true, then stealing the money (in the hypothetical case) is morally right.

2) Stealing the money (in the hypothetical case) is not morally right.

Therefore,

3) Egoism is not true (from 1 and 2).

Feldman concludes that "[t]his argument decisively refutes egoism, as do an enormous number of other arguments along the same lines" (Feldman, 1978: p. 96).

Can the egoist repel Feldman's attack? The Pension Argument is an instance of a valid argument form (namely, Modus Tollens), so it, too, is valid. ¹³ This means that the egoist has only two available strategies: first, reject the first premise; second, reject the second premise. The first premise says, in effect, that egoism implies that it's right for the treasurer to steal the money. The egoist can reply that this proposition is false: the theory has no such implication.

Instead of rejecting the first premise (which is called "grasping the bull by the horn"), the egoist might reject the second. ¹⁴ This would mean asserting that stealing the money is morally right. It may be painful for an egoist to assert this (which is why it's called "biting the bullet"), but it can be done. It amounts to sticking with one's theory even when the theory has disturbing ("painful") implications. Act utilitarians such as J. J. C. Smart (1980) and Peter Singer are notorious bullet biters; there is no reason why an egoist cannot adopt the same strategy. Either every theorist gets to bite bullets or no theorist gets to bite bullets. ¹⁵

We have now discussed-and illustrated-the five components of a complete defense of a normative ethical theory. The discussion has been somewhat abstract. It is time to bring it down to earth.

5. The Ideal and the Non-Ideal

We might therefore do well to consider how a philosophical judge might develop, in appropriate cases, theories of what legislative purpose and legal principles require.... I have invented, for this purpose, a lawyer of superhuman skill, learning, patience, and acumen, whom I shall call Hercules (Dworkin, 1978: p. 105).

I have used the words "ideal" or "ideally" many times in this article, as in, "Ideally, I, an egoist, would criticize (find fault with) every argument for the truth of every rival theory." My aim in using these words is to describe a perfect world, one in which there are no limitations of time, energy, imagination, or understanding. More precisely, it is to describe a perfect normative ethical theorist, one who, like Ronald Dworkin's (1978) imaginary judge Hercules, has "superhuman skill, learning, patience, and acumen."

Obviously, ours is not such a world, and there is (alas) no superhuman normative ethical theorist (though Henry Sidgwick comes close). We live in the real world, which is one of many possible non-ideal worlds. In the real world, time is short (we have much to do besides philosophize, thank goodness), energy limited (we are biological organisms with physical needs and frailties), imagination impoverished (or altogether lacking), and understanding deficient (even geniuses are not omniscient). If we cannot attain the Herculean ideal, what can we attain, or hope to attain?

We can attain the following. Instead of making every plausible argument for the truth of one's theory, which is beyond one's all-too-human capacities, one can make at least one plausible argument for the truth of one's theory (or perhaps a few of what one considers the strongest arguments: those that are least likely to be undermined by the theory's critics). Instead of criticizing (finding fault with) every argument for the truth of every rival theory, one can criticize (find fault with) at least one argument for the truth of at least one rival theory (or perhaps some arguments-the strongest ones-for the truth of each of the main rival theories). Instead of replying to every criticism of every argument for the truth of one's theory, one can reply to at least one criticism of at least one argument for the truth of one's theory (or perhaps the strongest criticisms of some subset of those arguments [preferably the strongest ones]). Instead of making every plausible argument for the falsity of every rival theory, one can make at least one plausible argument for the falsity of at least one rival theory (or perhaps each of the main rival theories). Instead of criticizing (finding fault with) every argument for the falsity of one's theory, one can criticize (find fault with) at least one argument for the falsity of one's theory (or perhaps the strongest arguments).

Think of this as theoretical defense for humans, as opposed to superhumans. Obviously, the more time, energy, and resourcefulness one has at one's disposal, the greater the number of arguments one can make and the greater the number of criticisms one can offer. Does this mean that the ideal of a complete defense is unimportant? No. Ideals are important even if (or even though) they are unattainable. First, they inspire. Knowing that my defense of my theory falls short of what it might be (as described by the ideal), I redouble my efforts. Second, they provide benchmarks. My defense of my theory may be better today than it was a year ago, or five years ago, and it may be better next year than it is today. Perhaps I could think of only three plausible arguments for my theory at some time in the past. I may now have four or five plausible arguments. This is progress. The ideal helps me measure it.

The reverse is also true. Suppose I have what I consider to be three plausible arguments for my theory. I may be persuaded by a critic that one of them is weak. This may cause me to delete it from my inventory (i.e., to stop making that argument). While this may seem like regression, it is actually progress, because it's not just the quantity of arguments that one has for one's theory that matters; it's their quality. Two strong arguments are better than two strong arguments and one weak argument. Two strong arguments are better than three weak(er) arguments.

6. The Complete and the Incomplete

I think that I was too optimistic in the past in thinking that people would reject utilitarianism only if they were not benevolent on the one hand, or philosophically confused on the other hand. I think that all one can do is to present the act utilitarian system, refute various specious objections which have been and still are being brought against it, and see whether any of one's audience find it attractive. If some of them do not, I do not now think that it follows that they must be lacking in benevolence (Smart, 1980: pp. 120-121).

A complete defense, whether ideal or non-ideal, has, as we have seen, five components. An incomplete (i.e., partial) defense has fewer than five components. An example of the latter is provided by J. J. C. Smart in the quotation preceding this paragraph. Smart gives an incomplete defense of act utilitarianism not because he is lazy or unimaginative, but because he is a non-cognitivist. His view is that normative ethical theories such as act utilitarianism are neither true nor false. They are not truth-apt. Since he doesn't claim that his theory is true, he doesn't argue for its truth. That is, he doesn't underpin it. Since he doesn't claim that rival theories are false, he doesn't attack them. Since he doesn't argue for his theory, there are no arguments for others to undermine, and hence nothing for him to countermine. All he can do, given his non-cognitivism, is undermine (i.e., find fault with arguments for the truth of rival theories) and repel (find fault with arguments for the falsity of act utilitarianism).

Should we say that Smart's defense of his theory (act utilitarianism) is a failure? We should not. It is merely incomplete. An incomplete (partial) defense is still a defense. In some cases, the reason why a theorist provides only a partial defense is that he or she is still working on other components of the defense. I may begin my defense of my theory by underpinning it. Later, once this task is accomplished, I may commence my attacks on rival theories. When this is done, I may proceed to undermine, countermine, and repel. As this shows, a complete defense may be provided all at once (in the form of a monograph, for example) or seriatim (as a series of articles or reviews). When we combine this distinction (between complete and incomplete defenses) with the distinction drawn in Section 5 (between ideal and non-ideal defenses), we get four possibilities, as represented in the following diagram:

Another example of a non-ideal defense (besides that of Smart) may be instructive. Here, once again, is the quotation from Henry West that served as the epigraph of Section 4:

If one holds a view in moral philosophy, how is it to be supported? Basically, there are two ways. One is to argue in favor of one's own position either positively by stating reasons for holding it or defensively by answering objections to it. The other is to show that there are problems with alternative views (West, 2004: p. 28).

Let us assume that by "supported," West means "defended." The first thing the theorist does is "stat[e] reasons for holding" his or her theory. This is what I call underpinning. The second thing the theorist does is "answer[] objections" to his or her theory. This is what I call repelling. (If the objections in question go to the arguments I make in support of my theory, as opposed to the theory itself, then West is describing what I call countermining.) The third thing the theorist does is "show that there are problems with alternative views." This is what I call attacking. (If the problems are with the rival theorists' arguments for their theories, as opposed to the theories themselves, then West is describing what I call undermining.)

Depending on how we interpret "answering objections" and "show[ing] that there are problems," West is providing either a complete non-ideal defense or a partial non-ideal defense. There are many other examples of partial defenses in the literature of normative ethics, but this is enough to make the point. Let us now turn to a third distinction.

7. The Successful and the Unsuccessful

success word A word whose application entails the truth of an embedded clause, or the achievement of some result. 'I remember, know, realize, perceive that p' all imply the truth of p. Many words describing our knowledge of things presuppose success or achievement. We can only know what is true, remember what happened, or perceive what is there. Other words have to be found for illusions of knowing, remembering, or perceiving, suggesting that success is a kind of default state ( Blackburn, 2008: p. 353 [boldface and italics in original]).

Many people use the word "refute" when they mean "rebut," and "rebut" when they mean "refute." The difference is that "refute" is a success word, while "rebut" is not. One can try to refute (i.e., disprove) and fail to do so, but if one refutes, then one necessarily succeeds (in disproving). This is not the case with "rebut." If one rebuts (i.e., claims to disprove), then one does not necessarily succeed (in disproving).

The title of this article is "How to Defend a Normative Ethical Theory." Is "defend" a success word, like "refute," or does it function like "rebut"? The answer is that it is not a success word. A given defense can be successful or unsuccessful. In a court of law, for example, some insanity defenses succeed and some fail. It makes perfect sense for a defense attorney to say to a colleague, "I thought the insanity defense was my best option, but it failed." In a military situation, my attempt to defend my fortification from attack may succeed or fail. If my compatriots and I are overwhelmed by the enemy, then our defense, however spirited, failed. If we repulse the enemy, then we have succeeded-at least for the time being. ¹⁶

A defense of a normative ethical theory can either succeed or fail. The first component of a complete defense, as we saw in Section 4, is underpinning, which means making every plausible argument for the truth of my theory. My "plausible argument" may, unbeknownst to me, be unsound, either because it is invalid or because it has a false premise. (I may have confused Modus Ponens with the Fallacy of Affirming the Consequent; or I may have made an honest mistake about the facts.) The second component of a complete defense is undermining, which means criticizing (finding fault with) every argument for the truth of every rival theory. My "criticism" of a particular argument may, despite my best efforts, be ineffective in showing that the argument is unsound. Perhaps I think that the argument commits a fallacy, when in fact it does not. Similar things can be said about the other three components of a complete defense.

Since a complete defense of a normative ethical theory may either succeed or fail, we must be prepared to say such things as, "Smith's complete defense of theory T was unsuccessful [a failure]," or "Smith's complete defense of theory T was successful [a success]," or "Smith's complete defense of theory T was partially successful; while Smith succeeded in attacking rival theory U, her attempt to underpin her theory was a failure." Obviously, it is better to succeed than to fail, at least when it comes to defending something valuable (such as a theory that one believes to be true). The purpose of this article is not to provide tips on how to increase the likelihood of success in such an endeavor, but to explain how one goes about defending a normative ethical theory. The purpose, in other words, is to describe five things that must be done successfully in order to succeed in providing a complete defense.

8. Conclusion

Believing that the major task of ethics is to delineate the correct or best justified principle or set of principles for distinguishing right from wrong, moral philosophers have advanced an impressively diverse array of normative theories. Kantians, social contract theorists such as Rawls, utilitarians, commonsense pluralists, and others less easily categorized have put forward a plethora of rival principles, intended to guide our moral decision-making and to explain why certain acts are right and others wrong. Much of academic moral philosophy consists in dialogue and argument among and between representatives of these different camps (Shaw, 1999: p. 246).

The purpose of this article is to make explicit and systematic what philosophers do implicitly and haphazardly. When philosophers defend normative ethical theories such as Kantianism, egoism, contractarianism, and act utilitarianism, they do several different things. First, they support their theories. I call this "underpinning." Second, they criticize (find fault with) the arguments that other theorists (their rivals) advance for their theories. I call this "undermining." Third, they reply to objections to their own supporting arguments. I call this "countermining." Fourth, they argue that rival theories are false. I call this "attacking." Fifth, they reply to arguments that their own theories are false. I call this "repelling." I have argued that a "complete defense" of a normative ethical theory combines all five of these components. ¹⁷

Having identified the five components of a complete defense, I distinguished between those that are ideal (aspirational) and those that are non-ideal. I then distinguished between complete and incomplete (partial) defenses. A partial defense is better than no defense at all, but not as good as a complete defense, even if the complete defense is non-ideal. Finally, I distinguished between successful and unsuccessful defenses. "Defend," unlike "refute," is not a success word. In this respect it is like "rebut." Some rebuttals succeed (in disproving); some do not. Some defenses succeed (in protecting); some do not. Whether a given defense succeeds depends on the soundness of the arguments being advanced or criticized. A complete defense of a normative ethical theory that is both ideal and successful may be beyond human capabilities, but it is not on that account useless. It has the same status as the New Testament dictum, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." ¹⁸

Acknowledgements

This article is dedicated to the memory of Leslie Howard ("Les") Kutinsky (1933-2019), who took a chance on me.

Appendix

Suppose I wish to provide a complete defense of theory T. I have five tasks (as explained in the main body of the article):

1) Make every plausible argument for the truth of T. ("Underpinning.")

2) Criticize (find fault with) every argument for the truth of every rival theory. ("Undermining.")

3) Reply to every criticism of every argument for the truth of T. ("Countermining.")

4) Make every plausible argument for the falsity of every rival theory. ("Attacking.")

5) Criticize (find fault with) every argument for the falsity of T. ("Repelling.")

Suppose I wish to provide a complete defense of thesis T. I have three tasks:

1) Make every plausible argument for the truth of T. ("Underpinning.")

2) Reply to every criticism of every argument for the truth of T. ("Countermining.")

3) Criticize (find fault with) every argument for the falsity of T. ("Repelling.")

Why (it will be asked) are there only three tasks, rather than five? What happened to undermining and attacking? The answer is that undermining and attacking are offensive maneuvers. Their object is not to defend (protect) one's theory, but to destroy rival theories. In the case of a thesis, there are no rivals. There is only the contradictory (negation, denial) of the thesis, T, which may be represented as ~T.

Suppose I set out to undermine ~T. To undermine ~T is (by definition) to criticize (find fault with) every argument for the truth of ~T. Criticizing (finding fault with) every argument for the truth of ~T is logically equivalent to criticizing (finding fault with) every argument for the falsity of T. But that is precisely what repelling amounts to. Since repelling is already on the list of three tasks, undermining the contradictory of one's thesis is otiose.

Suppose I set out to attack ~T. To attack ~T is (by definition) to make every plausible argument for the falsity of ~T. Making every plausible argument for the falsity of ~T is logically equivalent to making every plausible argument for the truth of T. But that is precisely what underpinning amounts to. Since underpinning is already on the list of three tasks, attacking the contradictory of one's thesis is otiose.

To make the discussion concrete, let the proposition "God exists" be our thesis. A complete defense of this thesis requires that I perform the following tasks:

1) Make every plausible argument for the truth of "God exists."

2) Reply to every criticism of every argument for the truth of "God exists."

3) Criticize (find fault with) every argument for the falsity of "God exists."

I perform task 1 by making arguments such as the Ontological Argument, the Cosmological Argument, the Teleological Argument, and the Moral Argument. I perform task 2 by replying to criticisms of these arguments. I perform task 3 by criticizing (finding fault with) arguments such as the Argument from Evil.

NOTES

¹Ethical egoism is not to be confused with either psychological egoism or rational egoism. Ethical egoism (see Burgess-Jackson, 2013b) is a normative ethical theory. Psychological egoism (see Burgess-Jackson, 2013c) is a testable scientific theory about human motivation. The consensus among philosophers is that, depending on how it is interpreted, psychological egoism is either false or trivially true. Rational egoism is a normative theory of rationality. It says that it is rational for an agent to perform an act if and only if that act maximizes the agent's utility (or expectable utility) in the long run.

²The fourth definition of the word "theory" in the Oxford English Dictionary (1971) is as follows: "A scheme or system of ideas or statements held as an explanation or account of a group of facts or phenomena; a hypothesis that has been confirmed or established by observation or experiment, and is propounded or accepted as accounting for the known facts; a statement of what are known to be the general laws, principles, or causes of something known or observed."

³A concrete act (i.e., an act token) is a unique, unrepeatable act (informally, a "one-off"), such as my writing this sentence at this moment. A generic act (i.e., an act type) is a kind of act, such as my writing, my writing a philosophical article, or my writing a philosophical article on an ethical topic. As this second example shows, generic acts can be more or less specific. Concrete acts are particulars.

⁴ They would be extensionally (though not intensionally) equivalent.

⁵ For further discussion of these points, see the Appendix.

⁶For some of the varieties (formulations) of egoism, see Burgess-Jackson, 2003: pp. 359-362.

⁷"Underpin" (verb) means "support (a building or other structure) from below by laying a solid foundation below ground level or by substituting stronger for weaker materials" (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 1884).

⁸"Undermine" (verb) means "dig or excavate beneath (a building or fortification) so as to make it collapse" ( New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 1883 [first definition]).

⁹ Feldman presents the argument in three stages, on pages 42 through 44 of his textbook. I combine the stages. I also tinkered with the wording, changing "for" to "to" on two occasions (for the sake of consistency).

¹⁰"Countermine" (verb) means "dig a countermine against" (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 396). A countermine is "an excavation dug to intercept another dug by an enemy" (ibid.).

¹¹"Attack" (verb) means "take aggressive action against (a place or enemy forces) with weapons or armed force, typically in a battle or war" (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 103).

¹²"Repel" (verb) means "drive or force (an attack or attacker) back or away" ( New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 1479 [first definition]).

¹³ Any argument that has a valid form is a valid argument.

¹⁴The premises of a Modus Tollens argument form are subcontraries. This means that, while it is logically possible for both premises to be true, it is logically impossible for both to be false. It would be irrational, therefore, for someone to reject both premises. One may reject the first premise (while accepting the second); one may reject the second premise (while accepting the first); but one may not reject both premises.

¹⁵See Burgess-Jackson, 2013a.

¹⁶Here is an alternative explanation. "Refute" (verb) means "prove (a statement or theory) to be wrong or false; disprove" (New Oxford American Dictionary, 2010: p. 1468). By definition (literally!), if I refute theory T, then I succeed in proving T to be false. "Rebut" (verb) means "claim or prove that (evidence or an accusation) is false" (ibid., p. 1455 [first definition]). By definition, if I rebut theory T, then I succeed in claiming that T is false, but may or may not succeed in proving that T is false. "Defend" (verb) means "resist an attack made on (someone or something); protect from harm or danger" (ibid., p. 454). "Resist" (verb) means "try to prevent by action or argument" (ibid., p. 1485). By definition, if I defend theory T, then I succeed in trying to prevent an attack on T, but may or may not succeed in preventing an attack on T. "Defend," in short, does not have success built into it, as "refute" does.

¹⁷ My hope is that "a complete defense" becomes a term of art in the discipline.

¹⁸ Matthew 22:39 (NRSV).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to Defend a Normative Ethical Theory

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Learn how to defend a normative ethical theory with a complete defense. Explore the components and distinctions using egoism as an example. Ideal vs. non-ideal, complete vs. incomplete, successful vs. unsuccessful defenses.

# data[].attributes.body
A very brief introduction on what moral psychology is, and its difference from moral philosophy.

# data[].attributes.headline
4.15 Moral Psychology: Empirical Approaches

# data[].attributes.subject
4.15 Moral Psychology: Empirical Approaches

# data[].attributes.body
This article discusses several topics that illustrate this type of inquiry: thought experiments, responsibility, character, egoism vs. altruism, and moral disagreement.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Moral psychology investigates human functioning in moral contexts, and asks how these results may impact debate in ethical theory. This work is necessarily interdisciplinary, drawing on both the empirical resources of the human sciences and the conceptual resources of philosophical ethics. The present article discusses several topics that illustrate this type of inquiry: thought experiments, responsibility, character, egoism v. altruism, and moral disagreement.

1. Introduction: What is Moral Psychology?

Contemporary moral psychology-the study of human thought and behavior in ethical contexts-is resolutely interdisciplinary: psychologists freely draw on philosophical theories to help structure their empirical research, while philosophers freely draw on empirical findings from psychology to help structure their theories.

While this extensive interdisciplinarity is a fairly recent development (with few exceptions, most of the relevant work dates from the past quarter century), it should not be a surprising development. From antiquity to the present, philosophers have not been bashful about making empirical claims, and many of these empirical claims have been claims about human psychology (Doris & Stich 2005). It is therefore unremarkable that, with the emergence of scientific psychology over the past century and a half, some of these philosophers would think to check their work against the systematic findings of psychologists (hopefully, while taking special care to avoid being misled by scientific controversy; see Doris 2015, Chapter 3; Machery & Doris forthcoming).

Similarly, at least since the demise of behaviorism, psychologists have been keenly interested in normative phenomena in general and ethical phenomena in particular. It is therefore unremarkable that some of these psychologists would seek to enrich their theoretical frameworks with the conceptual resources of a field intensively focused on normative phenomena: philosophical ethics. As a result, the field demarcated by "moral psychology", routinely involves an admixture of empirical and normative inquiry, pursued by both philosophers and psychologists-increasingly, in the form of collaborative efforts involving practitioners from both fields.

For philosophers, the special interest of this interdisciplinary inquiry lies in the ways moral psychology may help adjudicate between competing ethical theories. The plausibility of its associated moral psychology is not, of course, the only dimension on which an ethical theory may be evaluated; equally important are normative questions having to do with how well a theory fares when compared to important convictions about such things as justice, fairness, and the good life. Such questions have been, and will continue to be, of central importance for philosophical ethics. Nonetheless, it is commonly supposed that an ethical theory committed to an impoverished or inaccurate conception of moral psychology is at a serious competitive disadvantage. As Bernard Williams (1973, 1985; cf. Flanagan 1991) forcefully argued, an ethical conception that commends relationships, commitments, or life projects that are at odds with the sorts of attachments that can be reasonably expected to take root in and vivify actual human lives is an ethical conception with-at best-a very tenuous claim to our assent.

With this in mind, problems in ethical theory choice making reference to moral psychology can be framed by two related inquiries:

1. What empirical claims about human psychology do advocates of competing perspectives on ethical theory assert or presuppose?

2. How empirically well supported are these claims?

The first question is one of philosophical scholarship: what are the psychological commitments of various positions in philosophical ethics? The second question takes us beyond the corridors of philosophy departments and to the sorts of questions asked, and sometimes answered, by the human sciences, including psychology, anthropology, sociology, history, cognitive science, linguistics and neuroscience. Thus, contemporary moral psychology is methodologically pluralistic: it aims to answer philosophical questions, but in an empirically responsible way.

However, it will sometimes be difficult to tell which claims in philosophical ethics require empirical substantiation. Partly, this is because it is sometimes unclear whether, and to what extent, a contention counts as empirically assessable. Consider questions regarding "normal functioning" in mental health care: are the answers to these questions statistical, or evaluative (Boorse 1975; Fulford 1989; Murphy 2006)? For example, is "normal" mental health simply the psychological condition of most people, or is it good mental health? If the former, the issue is, at least in principle, empirically decidable. If the latter, the issues must be decided, if they can be decided, by arguments about value.

Additionally, philosophers have not always been explicit about whether, and to what extent, they are making empirical claims. For example, are their depictions of moral character meant to identify psychological features of actual persons, or to articulate ideals that need not be instantiated in actual human psychologies? Such questions will of course be complicated by the inevitable diversity of philosophical opinion.

In every instance, therefore, the first task is to carefully document a theory's empirically assessable claims, whether they are explicit or, as may often be the case, tacit. Once claims apt for empirical assessment have been located, the question becomes one of identifying any relevant empirical literatures. The next job is to assess those literatures, in an attempt to determine what conclusions can be responsibly drawn from them. Science, particularly social science, being what it is, many conclusions will be provisional; the philosophical moral psychologist must be prepared to adjudicate controversies in other fields, or offer informed conjecture regarding future findings. Often, the empirical record will be crucially incomplete. In such cases, philosophers may be forced to engage in empirically disciplined conjecture, or even to engage in their own empirical work, as some philosophers are beginning to do.

When the philosophical positions have been isolated, and putatively relevant empirical literatures assessed, we can begin to evaluate the plausibility of the philosophical moral psychology: Is the speculative picture of psychological functioning that informs some region of ethical theory compatible with the empirical picture that emerges from systematic observation? In short, is the philosophical picture empirically adequate? If it is determined that the philosophical conception is empirically adequate, the result is vindicatory. Conversely, if the philosophical moral psychology in question is found to be empirically inadequate, the result is revisionary, compelling alteration, or even rejection, of those elements of the philosophical theory presupposing the problematic moral psychology. The process will often be comparative. Theory choice in moral psychology, like other theory choice, involves tradeoffs, and while an empirically undersupported approach may not be decisively eliminated from contention on empirical grounds alone, it may come to be seen as less attractive than theoretical options with firmer empirical foundations.

The winds driving the sort of disciplinary cross-pollination we describe do not blow in one direction. As philosophers writing for an encyclopedia of philosophy, we are naturally concerned with the ways empirical research might shape, or re-shape, philosophical ethics. But philosophical reflection may likewise influence empirical research, since such research is often driven by philosophical suppositions that may be more or less philosophically sound. The best interdisciplinary conversations, then, should benefit both parties. To illustrate the dialectical process we have described, we will consider a variety of topics in moral psychology. Our primary concerns will be philosophical: What are some of the most central problems in philosophical moral psychology, and how might they be resolved? However, as the hybrid nature of our topic invites us to do, we will pursue these questions in an interdisciplinary spirit, and are hopeful that our remarks will also engage interested scientists. Hopefully, the result will be a broad sense of the problems and methods that will structure research on moral psychology during the 21 st century.

2. Thought Experiments and the Methods of Ethics

"Intuition pumps" or "thought experiments" have long been well-used items in the philosopher's toolbox (Dennett 1984: 17-18; Stuart et al. 2018). Typically, a thought experiment presents an example, often a hypothetical example, in order to elicit some philosophically telling response. If a thought experiment is successful, it may be concluded that competing theories must account for the resulting response. These responses are supposed to serve an evidential role in philosophical theory choice; if you like, they can be understood as data competing theories must accommodate. If an appropriate audience's ethical responses to a thought experiment conflict with the response a theory prescribes for the case, the theory has suffered a counterexample.

The question of whose responses "count" philosophically (or, who is the "appropriate" audience) has been answered in a variety of ways, but for many philosophers, the intended audience for thought experiments seems to be some species of "ordinary folk" (see Jackson 1998: 118, 129; Jackson & Pettit 1995: 22-9; Lewis 1989: 126-9). Of course, the relevant folk must possess such cognitive attainments as are required to understand the case at issue; very young children are probably not an ideal audience for thought experiments. Accordingly, some philosophers may insist that the relevant responses are the considered judgments of people with the training required to see "what is at stake philosophically". But if the responses are to help adjudicate between competing theories, the responders must be more or less theoretically neutral, and this sort of neutrality is rather likely to be vitiated by philosophical education. A dilemma emerges. On the one hand, philosophically naïve subjects may be thought to lack the erudition required to grasp the philosophical stakes. On the other, with increasing philosophical sophistication comes, very likely, philosophical partiality; one audience is naïve, and the other prejudiced.

However exactly the philosophically relevant audience is specified, there are empirical questions that must be addressed in determining the philosophical potency of a thought experiment. In particular, when deciding what philosophical weight to give a response, philosophers need to determine its origins. What features of the example are implicated in a given judgment-are people reacting to the substance of the case, or the style of exposition? What features of the audience are implicated in their reaction-do different demographic groups respond to the example differently? Are there factors in the environment that are affecting people's intuitive judgments? Does the order in which people consider examples affect their judgments? Such questions raise the following concern: judgments about thought experiments dealing with moral issues might be strongly influenced by ethically irrelevant characteristics of the example or the audience or the environment or the order of presentation. Whether a characteristic is ethically relevant is a matter for philosophical discussion, but determining the status of a particular thought experiment also requires empirical investigation of its causally relevant characteristics. We'll now describe some examples of such investigation.

As part of their famous research on the "heuristics and biases" that underlie human reasoning, Tversky and Kahneman (1981) presented subjects with the following problem:

Imagine that the U.S. is preparing for the outbreak of an unusual Asian disease, which is expected to kill 600 people. Two alternative programs to combat the disease have been proposed. Assume that the exact scientific estimate of the consequences of the programs are as follows:

If Program A is adopted, 200 people will be saved.

If Program B is adopted, there is a 1/3 probability that 600 people will be saved, and a 2/3 probability that no people will be saved.

A second group of subjects was given an identical problem, except that the programs were described as follows:

If Program C is adopted, 400 people will die.

If Program D is adopted, there is a 1/3 probability that nobody will die and a 2/3 probability that 600 people will die.

On the first version of the problem, most subjects thought that Program A should be adopted. But on the second version, most chose Program D, despite the fact that the outcome described in A is identical to the one described in C. The disconcerting implication of this study is that ethical responses may be strongly influenced by the manner in which cases are described or framed. It seems that such framing sensitivities constitute ethically irrelevant influences on ethical responses. Unless this sort of possibility can be confidently eliminated, one should hesitate to rely on responses to a thought experiment for adjudicating theoretical controversies. Such possibilities can only be eliminated through systematic empirical work.

While a relatively small percentage of empirical work on "heuristics and biases" directly addresses moral reasoning, numerous philosophers who have addressed the issue (Horowitz 1998; Doris & Stich 2005; Sinnott-Armstrong 2005; Sunstein 2005) agree that phenomena like framing effects are likely to be pervasively implicated in responses to ethically freighted examples, and argue that this state of affairs should cause philosophers to view the thought-experimental method with considerable concern.

We turn now to order effects. In a pioneering study, Petrinovich and O'Neill (1996) found that participants' moral intuitions varied with the order in which the thought experiments were presented. Similar findings have been reported by Liao et al. (2012), Wiegman et al. (2012), and Schwitzgebel & Cushman (2011, 2015). The Schwitzgebel and Cushman studies are particularly striking, since they set out to explore whether order effects in moral intuitions were smaller or non-existent in professional philosophers. Surprisingly, they found that professional philosophers were also subject to order effects, even though the thought experiments used are well known in the field. Schwitzgebel and Cushman also report that in some cases philosophers intuitions show substantial order effects when the intuitions of non-philosophers don't.

Audience characteristics may also affect the outcome of thought experiments. Haidt and associates (1993: 613) presented stories about "harmless yet offensive violations of strong social norms" to men and women of high and low socioeconomic status (SES) in Philadelphia (USA), Porto Alegre, and Recife (both in Brazil). For example:

A man goes to the supermarket once a week and buys a dead chicken. But before cooking the chicken, he has sexual intercourse with it. Then he cooks it and eats it. (Haidt et al. 1993: 617)

Lower SES subjects tended to "moralize" harmless and offensive behaviors like that in the chicken story. These subjects were more inclined than their high SES counterparts to say that the actor should be "stopped or punished", and more inclined to deny that such behaviors would be "OK" if customary in a given country (Haidt et al. 1993: 618-19). The point is not that lower SES subjects are mistaken in their moralization of such behaviors while the urbanity of higher SES subjects represents a more rationally defensible response. The difficulty is deciding which-if any-of the conflicting responses is fit to serve as a constraint on ethical theory, when both may equally be the result of more or less arbitrary cultural factors.

Philosophical audiences typically decline to moralize the offensive behaviors, and we ourselves share their tolerant attitude. But of course these audiences-by virtue of educational attainments, if not stock portfolios-are overwhelmingly high SES. Haidt's work suggests that it is a mistake for a philosopher to say, as Jackson (1998: 32n4; cf. 37) does, that "my intuitions reveal the folk conception in as much as I am reasonably entitled, as I usually am, to regard myself as typical". The question is: typical of what demographic? Are philosophers' ethical responses determined by the philosophical substance of the examples, or by cultural idiosyncrasies that are very plausibly thought to be ethically irrelevant? Once again, until such possibilities are ruled out by systematic empirical investigation, the philosophical heft of a thought experiment is open to question.

In recent years there has been a growing body of research reporting that judgments evoked by moral thought experiments are affected by environmental factors that look to be completely irrelevant to the moral issue at hand. The presence of dirty pizza boxes and a whiff of fart spray (Schnall et al. 2008a), the use of soap (Schnall et al. 2008b) or an antiseptic handwipe (Zhong et al. 2010), or even the proximity of a hand sanitizer dispenser (Helzer & Pizarro 2011) have all been reported to influence moral intuitions. Tobia et al. (2013) found that the moral intuitions of both students and professional philosophers are affected by spraying the questionnaire with a disinfectant spray. Valdesolo and DeSteno (2006) reported that viewing a humorous video clip can have a substantial impact on participant's moral intuitions. And Strohminger et al. (2011) have shown that hearing different kinds of audio clips (stand-up comedy or inspirational stories from a volume called Chicken Soup for the Soul) has divergent effects on moral intuitions.

How should moral theorists react to findings like these? One might, of course, eschew thought experiments in ethical theorizing. While this methodological austerity is not without appeal, it comes at a cost. Despite the difficulties, thought experiments are a window, in some cases the only accessible window, into important regions of ethical experience. In so far as it is disconnected from the thoughts and feels of the lived ethical life, ethical theory risks being "motivationally inaccessible", or incapable of engaging the ethical concern of agents who are supposed to live in accordance with the normative standards of the theory. Fortunately, there is another possibility: continue pursuing the research program that systematically investigates responses to intuition pumps. In effect, the idea is to subject philosophical thought experiments to the critical methods of experimental social psychology. If investigations employing different experimental scenarios and subject populations reveal a clear trend in responses, we can begin to have some confidence that we are identifying a deeply and widely shared moral conviction. Philosophical discussion may establish that convictions of this sort should serve as a constraint on moral theory, while responses to thought experiments that empirical research determines to lack such solidity, such as those susceptible to order, framing or environmental effects, or those admitting of strong cultural variation, may be ones that ethical theorists can safely disregard.

3. Moral Responsibility

A philosophically informed empirical research program akin to the one just described is more than a methodological fantasy. This approach accurately describes a number of research programs aimed at informing philosophical debates through interdisciplinary research.

One of the earliest examples of this kind of work was inspired in large part by the work of Knobe (2003a,b, 2006) and addressed questions surrounding "folk morality" on issues ranging from intentional action to causal responsibility (see Knobe 2010 for review and discussion). This early work helped to spur the development of a truly interdisciplinary research program with both philosophers and psychologists investigating the folk morality of everyday life. (See the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on Experimental Moral Philosophy for a more complete treatment of this research.)

Another related philosophical debate concerns the compatibility of free will and moral responsibility with determinism. On the one hand, incompatibilists insist that determinism (the view that all events are jointly determined by antecedent events as governed by laws of nature), is incompatible with moral responsibility. Typically, these accounts also go on to specify what particular capacity is required to be responsible for one's own behavior (e.g., that agents have alternate possibilities for behavior, or are the "ultimate" source of their behavior, or both (Kane 2002: 5; Haji 2002: 202-3). On the other hand, compatibilists argue that determinism and responsibility are compatible, often by denying that responsible agency requires that the actor have genuinely open alternatives, or rejecting the ultimacy condition that requires indeterminism (or impossible demands for self-creation). In short, compatibilists hold that people may legitimately be held responsible even though there is some sense in which they "could not have done otherwise" or are not the "ultimate source" of their behavior. Incompatibilists deny that this is the case. Proponents of these two opposing positions have remained relatively entrenched, and some participants have raised fears of a "dialectical stalemate" (Fischer 1994: 83-5).

A critical issue in these debates has been the claim that the incompatibilist position better captures folk moral judgments about agents whose actions have been completely determined (e.g., G. Strawson 1986: 88; Smilansky 2003: 259; Pereboom 2001: xvi; O'Connor 2000: 4; Nagel 1986: 113, 125; Campbell 1951: 451; Pink 2004: 12). For example, Robert Kane (1999: 218; cf. 1996: 83-5), a leading incompatibilist, reports that in his experience "most ordinary persons start out as natural incompatibilists", and "have to be talked out of this natural incompatibilism by the clever arguments of philosophers".

Unsurprisingly, some compatibilists have been quick to assert the contrary. For example, Peter Strawson (1982) famously argued that in the context of "ordinary interpersonal relationships", people are not haunted by the specter of determinism; such metaphysical concerns are irrelevant to their experience and expression of the "reactive attitudes"-anger, resentment, gratitude, forgiveness, and the like-associated with responsibility assessment. Any anxiety about determinism, Strawson insisted, is due to the "panicky metaphysics" of philosophers, not incompatibilist convictions on the part of ordinary people. However, incompatibilists have historically been thought to have ordinary intuitions on their side; even some philosophers with compatibilist leanings are prepared to concede the incompatibilist point about "typical" response tendencies (e.g., Vargas 2005a,b).

Neither side, so far as we are aware, has offered much in the way of systematic evidence of actual patterns of folk moral judgments. Recently however, a now substantial research program has begun to offer empirical evidence on the relationship between determinism and moral responsibility in folk moral judgments.

Inspired by the work of Frankfurt (1988) and others, Woolfolk, Doris, and Darley (2006) hypothesized that observers may hold actors responsible even when the observers judge that the actors could not have done otherwise, if the actors appear to "identify" with their behavior. Roughly, the idea is that the actor identifies with a behavior-and is therefore responsible for it-to the extent that she "embraces" the behavior, or performs it "wholeheartedly" regardless of whether genuine alternatives for behavior are possible. Woolfolk et al.'s suspicion was, in effect, that people's (presumably tacit) theory of responsibility is compatibilist.

To test this, subjects were asked to read a story about an agent who was forced by a group of armed hijackers to kill a man who had been having an affair with his wife. In the "low identification" condition, the man was described as being horrified at being forced to kill his wife's lover, and as not wanting to do so. In the "high identification" condition, the man is instead described as welcoming the opportunity and wanting to kill his wife's lover. In both cases, the man is not given a choice, and does kill his wife's lover.

Consistent with Woolfolk and colleagues' hypothesis, subjects judged that the highly identifying actor was more responsible, more appropriately blamed, and more properly subject to guilt than the low identification actor. This pattern in folk moral judgments seems to suggest that participants were not consistently incompatibilist in their responsibility attributions, because the lack of alternatives available to the actor was not alone sufficient to rule out such attributions.

In response to these results, those who believe that folk morality is incompatibilist may be quick to object that the study merely suggests that responsibility attributions are influenced by identification, but says nothing about incompatibilist commitments or the lack thereof. Subjects still may have believed that the actor could have done otherwise. To address this concern, Woolfolk and colleagues also conducted a version of the study in which the man acted under the influence of a "compliance drug". In this case, participants were markedly less likely to agree that the man "was free to behave other than he did" and yet they still held the agent who identified with the action as more responsible than the agent who did not. These results look to pose a clear challenge to the view that ordinary folk are typically incompatibilists.

A related pattern of responses was obtained by Nahmias, Morris, Nadelhoffer and Turner (2009) who instead described agents preforming immoral behaviors in a "deterministic world" of the sort often described in philosophy classrooms. One variation read as follows:

Imagine that in the next century we discover all the laws of nature, and we build a supercomputer which can deduce from these laws of nature and from the current state of everything in the world exactly what will be happening in the world at any future time. It can look at everything about the way the world is and predict everything about how it will be with 100% accuracy. Suppose that such a supercomputer existed, and it looks at the state of the universe at a certain time on March 25th, 2150 C.E., twenty years before Jeremy Hall is born. The computer then deduces from this information and the laws of nature that Jeremy will definitely rob Fidelity Bank at 6:00 PM on January 26th, 2195. As always, the supercomputer's prediction is correct; Jeremy robs Fidelity Bank at 6:00 PM on January 26th, 2195.

Subjects were then asked whether Jeremy was morally blameworthy. Most said yes, indicating that they thought an agent could be morally blameworthy even if his behaviors were entirely determined by natural laws. Consistent with the Woolfolk et al. results, it appears that the subjects' judgments, at least those having to do with moral blameworthiness, were not governed by a commitment to incompatibilism.

This emerging picture was complicated, however, by Nichols and Knobe (2007), which argued that the ostensibly compatibilist responses were performance errors driven by an affective response to the agents' immoral actions. To demonstrate this, all subjects were asked to imagine two universes-a universe completely governed by deterministic laws (Universe A) and a universe (Universe B) in which everything is determined except for human decisions which are not completely determined by deterministic laws and what has happened in the past. In Universe B, but not Universe A, "each human decision does not have to happen the way it does". Some subjects were assigned to a concrete condition, and asked to make a judgment about a specific individual in specific circumstances, while others were assigned to an abstract condition, and asked to make a more general judgment, divorced from any particular individual. The hypothesis was that the difference between these two conditions would generate different responses regarding the relationship between determinism and moral responsibility. Subjects in the concrete condition read a story about a man, "Bill", in the deterministic universe who murders his wife and children in a particularly ghastly manner, and were asked whether Bill was morally responsible for what he had done. By contrast, subjects in the abstract condition were asked "In Universe A, is it possible for a person to be fully morally responsible for their actions?" Seventy-two percent of subjects in the concrete condition gave a compatibilist response, holding Bill responsible in Universe A, whereas less than fifteen percent of subjects in the abstract condition gave a compatibilist response, allowing that people could be fully morally responsible in the deterministic Universe A.

In line with previous experimental work demonstrating that increased affective arousal amplified punitive responses to wrongdoing (Lerner, Goldberg, & Tetlock 1998), Nichols and Knobe hypothesized that previously observed compatibilist responses were the result of the affectively laden nature of the stimulus materials. When this affective element was eliminated from the materials (as in the abstract condition), participants instead exhibited an incompatibilist pattern of responses.

More recently, Nichols and Knobe's line of reasoning has come under fire from two directions. First, a number of studies have now tried to systematically manipulate how affectively arousing the immoral behavior performed is, but have not found that these changes significantly alter participants' judgments of moral responsibility in deterministic scenarios. Rather, the differences seem to be best explained simply by whether the case was described abstractly or concretely (see Cova et al. 2012 for work with patients who have frontotemporal dementia, and see Feltz & Cova 2014 for a meta-analysis). Second, a separate line of studies from Murray and Nahmias (2014) argued that participants who exhibited the apparently incompatibilist pattern of responses were making a critical error in how they understood the deterministic scenario. In particular, they argued these participants mistakenly took the agents, or their mental states, in these deterministic scenarios to be "bypassed" in the causal chain leading up to their behavior. In support of their argument, Murray and Nahmias (2014) demonstrated that when analyses were restricted to the participants who clearly did not take the agent to be bypassed, these participants judged the agent to be morally responsible (blameworthy, etc.) despite being in a deterministic universe. Unsurprisingly, this line of argument has, in turn, inspired a number of further counter-responses, both empirical (Rose & Nichols 2013) and theoretical (Björnsson & Pereboom 2016), which caution against the conclusions of Murray and Nahmias.

While the debate continues over whether the compatibilist or incompatibilist position better captures folk moral judgments of agents in deterministic universes, a related line of research has sprung up around what is widely taken to be the most convincing contemporary form of argument for incompatibilism: manipulation arguments (e.g., Mele 2006, 2013, Pereboom 2001, 2014). Pereboom's Four-Case version, for example, begins with the case of an agent named Plum who is manipulated by neuroscientists who use a radio-like technology to change Plum's neural states, which results in him wanting and then deciding to kill a man named White. In this case, it seems clear that Plum did not freely decide to kill White. Compare this case to a second one, in which the team of neuroscientists programmed Plum at the beginning of his life in a way that resulted in him developing the desire (and making the decision) to kill White. The incompatibilist argues that these two cases do not differ in a way that is relevant for whether Plum acted freely, and so, once again, it seems that Plum did not freely decide to kill White. Now compare this to a third case, in which Plum's desire and decision to kill White were instead determined by his cultural and social milieu, rather than by a team of neuroscientists. Since the only difference between the second and third case is the particular technological process through which Plum's mental states were determined, he would again seem to not have freely decided to kill White. Finally, in a fourth and final case, Plum's desire and decision to kill White was determined jointly by the past states and the laws of nature in our own deterministic universe. Regarding these four cases, Pereboom argues that, since there is no difference between any of the four cases that is relevant to free will, if Plum was not morally responsible in the first case, then he was not morally responsible in the fourth.

In response to this kind of manipulation-based argument for incompatibilism, a number of researchers have taken aim at painting a better empirical picture of ordinary moral judgments concerning manipulated agents. This line of inquiry has been productive on two levels. First, a growing number of empirical studies have investigated moral responsibility judgments about cases of manipulation, and now provide a clearer psychological picture for why manipulated agents are judged to lack free will and moral responsibility. Second, continuing theoretical work, informed by this empirical picture, has provided new reasons for doubting that manipulation based arguments actually provide evidence against compatibilism.

One line of empirical research, led by Chandra Sripada (2012) has asked whether manipulated agents are perceived to be unfree because (a) they lack ultimate control over their actions (a capacity incompatibilists take to be essential for moral responsibility) or instead because (b) their psychological or volitional capacities (the capacities focused on by compatibilists) have been damaged. Using a statistical approach called Structural Equation Modeling (or SEM), Sripada found that participants' moral responsibility judgments were best explained by whether they believed the psychological and volitional capacities of the agent were damaged by manipulation and not whether the agent lacked control over her actions. This finding suggests that patterns of judgment in cases of manipulation are more consistent with the predictions of compatibilism than with incompatibilism.

Taking a different approach, Phillips and Shaw (2014) demonstrated that the reduction of moral responsibility that is typically observed in cases of manipulation depends critically on the role of an intentional manipulator. In particular, ordinary people were shown to distinguish between (1) the moral responsibility of agents who are made to do a particular act by features of the situation they are in (i.e., situational determinism), and (2) the moral responsibility of agents who are made to do that same act by another intentional agent (i.e., manipulation). This work suggests that the ordinary practice of assessing freedom and responsibility is likely to clearly distinguish between cases that do and do not involve a manipulator who intervenes with the intention of causing the manipulated agent to do the immoral action. A series of studies by Murray and Lombrozo (2016) further elaborates these findings by providing evidence that the specific reduction of moral responsibility that results from being manipulated arises from the perception that the agent's mental states are bypassed.

Collectively, two lessons have come out of this work on the ordinary practice of assessing the moral responsibility of manipulated agents: (1) folk morality provides a natural way of distinguishing between the different cases used in manipulation-based arguments (those that do involve the intentional intervention of a manipulator vs. those that don't) and (2) folk morality draws an intimate link between the moral responsibility of an agent and that agent's mental and volitional capacities. Building on this increasingly clear empirical picture, Deery and Nahmias (2017) formalized these basic principles in theoretical work that argues for a principled way of distinguishing between the moral responsibility of determined and manipulated agents.

While the majority of evidence may currently be in favor of the view that folk morality adheres to a kind of "natural compatibilism" (Cova & Kitano 2013), this remains a contentious topic, and new work is continually emerging on both sides of the debate (Andow & Cova 2016; Bear & Knobe 2016; Björnsson 2014; Feltz & Millan 2013; Figdor & Phelan 2015; Knobe 2014). One thing that has now been agreed on by parties on both sides of this debate, however, is a critical role for careful empirical studies (Björnsson & Pereboom 2016; Knobe 2014; Nahmias 2011).

4. Virtue Ethics and Skepticism About Character

To date, empirically informed approaches to moral psychology have been most prominent in discussions of moral character and virtue. The focus is decades of experimentation in "situationist" social psychology: unobtrusive features of situations have repeatedly been shown to impact behavior in seemingly arbitrary, and sometimes alarming, ways. Among the findings that have most interested philosophers:

The Phone Booth Study (Isen & Levin (1972: 387): people who had just found a dime in a payphone's coin return were 22 times more likely than those who did not find a dime to help a woman who had dropped some papers (88% v. 4%).

The Good Samaritan Study (Darley & Batson 1973: 105): unhurried passersby were 6 times more likely than hurried passersby to help an unfortunate who appeared to be in significant distress (63% v. 10%).

The Obedience Experiments (Milgram 1974) subjects repeatedly punished a screaming victim with realistic (but simulated) electric shocks at the polite request of an experimenter.

The Stanford Prison Study (Zimbardo 2007): college students role-playing as "guards" in a simulated prison subjected student "prisoners" to grotesque verbal and emotional abuse.

These experiments are part of an extensive empirical literature, where social psychologists have time and again found that disappointing omissions and appalling actions are readily induced by apparently minor situational features. The striking fact is not that people fail standards for good conduct, but that they can be so easily induced to do so.

Exploiting this observation, "character skeptics" contend that if moral conduct varies so sharply, often for the worse, with minor perturbations in circumstance, ostensibly good character provides very limited assurance of good conduct. In addition to this claim in descriptive psychology, concerning the fragility of moral character, some character skeptics also forward a thesis in normative ethics, to the effect that character merits less attention in ethical thought than it traditionally gets.

Character skepticism contravenes the influential program of contemporary virtue ethics, which maintains that advancing ethical theory requires more attention to character, and virtue ethicists offer vigorous resistance. Discussion has sometimes been overheated, but it has resulted in a large literature in a vibrantly interdisciplinary field of "character studies" (e.g., Miller et al. 2015). The literature is too extensive for the confines of this entry, but we will endeavor to outline some of the main issues.

The first thing to observe is that the science which inspires the character skeptics may itself be subject to skepticism. Given the uneven history of the human sciences, it might be argued that the relevant findings are too uncertain to stand as a constraint on philosophical theorizing. This contention is potentially buttressed by recent prominent replication failures in social psychology.

The psychology at issue is, like much of science, unfinished business. But the replication controversy, and the attendant suspicion of science, is insufficient grounds for dismissing the psychology out of hand. Philosophical conclusions should not be based on a few studies; the task of the philosophical consumer of science is to identify trends in convergent strands of evidence (Doris 2015: 49, 56; Machery & Doris forthcoming). The observation that motivates character skepticism-the surprising situational sensitivity of behavior-is supported by a wide range of scientific findings, as well as by recurring themes in history and biography (Doris 2002, 2005). The strong situational discriminativeness of behavior is accepted as fact by high proportion of involved scientists; accordingly, it is not much contested in debates about character skepticism.

But the philosophical implications of this fact remain, after considerable debate, a contentious issue. The various responses to character skepticism need not be forwarded in isolation, and some of them may be combined as part of a multi-pronged defense. Different rejoinders have differing strengths and weaknesses, particularly with respect to the differing pieces of evidence on which character skeptics rely; the phenomena are not unitary, and accommodating them all may preclude a unitary response.

One way of defusing empirically motivated skepticism-dubbed by Alfano (2013) "the dodge"-is simply to deny that virtue ethics makes empirical claims. On this understanding, virtue ethics is cast as a "purely normative" endeavor aiming at erecting ethical ideals in complete absence of empirical commitments regarding actual human psychologies. This sort of purity is perhaps less honored than honored in the breach: historically, virtue ethics has been typified by an interest in how actual people become good. Aristotle ( Nicomachean Ethics, 1099b18-19) thought that anyone not "maimed" with regard to the capacity for virtue may acquire it "by a certain kind of study and care", and contemporary Aristotelians have emphasized the importance of moral education and development (e.g., Annas 2011). More generally, virtue-based approaches have been claimed to have an advantage over major Kantian and consequentialist competitors with respect to "psychological realism"-the advantage of a more lifelike moral psychology (see Anscombe 1958: 1, 15; Williams 1985; Flanagan 1991: 182; Hursthouse 1999: 19-20).

To be sure, eschewing empirical commitment allows virtue ethics to escape empirical threat: obviously, empirical evidence cannot be used to undermine a theory that makes no empirical claims. However, it is not clear such theories could claim advantages traditionally claimed for virtue theories with regard to moral development and psychological realism. In any event, they are not contributions to empirical moral psychology, and needn't be further discussed here.

Before seeing how the debate in moral psychology might be advanced, it is necessary to correct a mischaracterization that serves to arrest progress. It is too often said, particularly in reference to Doris (1998, 2002) and Harman (1999, 2000), that character skepticism comes to the view that character traits "do not exist" (e.g., Flanagan 2009: 55). Frequently, this attribution is made without documentation, but when documentation is provided, it is typically in reference to some early, characteristically pointed, remarks of Harman (e.g., 1999). Yet in his most recent contribution, Harman (2009: 241) says, "I do not think that social psychology demonstrates there are no character traits". For his part, Doris has repeatedly asserted that traits exist, and has repeatedly drawn attention to such assertions (Doris 1998: 507-509; 2002: 62-6; 2005: 667; 2010: 138-141; Doris & Stich 2005: 119-20; Doris & Prinz 2009).

With good reason, to say "traits do not exist" is tantamount to denying that there are individual dispositional differences, an unlikely view that character skeptics and antiskeptics are united in rejecting. Quite unsurprisingly, this unlikely view is seriously undersubscribed in both philosophy and psychology. It is endorsed by neither the most aggressive critics of personality, situationists in social psychology such as Ross and Nisbett (1991), nor by the patron saint of situationism in personality psychology: Mischel (1999: 45). Mischel disavows a trait-based approach, but his skepticism concerns a particular approach to traits, not individual dispositional differences more generally.

Then the question of whether or not traits exist is emphatically not the issue dividing more and less skeptical approaches to character. Today, all mainstream parties to the debate are "interactionist", treating behavioral outcomes as the function of a (complex) person by situation interaction (Mehl et al. 2015)-and it's likely most participants have always been so (Doris 2002: 25-6). Contemporary research programs in personality and social psychology freely deploy both personal and situational variables (e.g., Cameron, Payne, & Doris 2013; Leikas, Lönnqvist, & Verkasalo 2012; Sherman, Nave, & Funder 2010). The issue worth discussing is not whether individual dispositional differences exist, but how these differences should be characterized, and how (or whether) these individual differences, when appropriately characterized, should inform ethical thought.

An important feature of early forays into character skepticism was that skeptics tended to focus on behavioral implications of traits rather than the psychological antecedents of behavior (Doris 2015: 15). Defenders of virtue ethics observe that character skeptics have had much to say about situational variation in behavior and little to say about the psychological processes underlying it, with the result that they overlook the rational order in people's lives (Adams 2006: 115-232). These virtue ethicists maintain that the behavioral variation provoking character skepticism evinces not unreliability, but rationally appropriate sensitivity to differing situations (Adams 2006; Kamtekar 2004). The virtuous person, such as Aristotle's exemplary phronimos ("man of practical wisdom") may sometimes come clean, and sometimes dissemble, or sometimes fight, and sometimes flee, depending on the particular ethical demands of his circumstances.

For example, in the Good Samaritan Study, the hurried passersby was on the way to an appointment where they had agreed to give a presentation; perhaps these people made a rational determination-perhaps even an ethically defensible determination-to weigh the demands of punctuality and professionalism over ethical requirement to check on the welfare of a stranger in apparent distress. However attractive one finds such accounting for this case (note that some of Darley and Batson's [1973] hurried passersby failed to notice the victim, which strains explanations in terms of their rational discriminations), there are other cases where the "rationality response" seems plainly unattractive. These are cases of ethically irrelevant influences ( Sec. 2 above; Doris & Stich 2005), where it seems unlikely the influence could be cited as part of a rationalizing explanation of the behavior: it's odd to cite failing to find a dime as justification for failing to help-or for that matter, finding a dime as justification for doing so.

It is certainly appropriate for virtue ethicists to emphasize practical rationality in their accounts of character. This is a central theme in the tradition going back to Aristotle himself, who is probably the most oft-cited canonical philosopher in contemporary virtue ethics. But while the rationality response may initially accommodate some of the troubling behavioral evidence, it encounters further empirical difficulty. There is an extensive empirical literature problematizing familiar conceptions of rationality: psychologists have endlessly documented a dispiriting range of reasoning errors (Baron 1994, 2001; Gilovich et al. 2002; Kahneman et al. 1982; Tversky & Kahneman 1973; Kruger & Dunning 1999; Nisbett & Borgida 1975; Nisbett & Ross 1980; Stich 1990; Tversky & Kahneman 1981). In light of this evidence, character skeptics claim that the vagaries afflicting behavior also afflict reasoning (Alfano 2013; Olin & Doris 2014).

Research supporting this discouraging assessment of human rationality is controversial, and not all psychologists think things are so bleak (Gigerenzer 2000; Gigerenzer et al. 1999; for philosophical commentary see Samuels & Stich 2002). Nevertheless, if virtue ethics is to have an empirically credible moral psychology, it needs to account for the empirical challenges to practical reasoning: how can the relevant excellence in practical reasoning be developed?

Faced with the challenge to practical rationality, virtue ethicists may respond that their theories concern excellent reasoning, not the ordinary reasoning studied in psychology. Practical wisdom, and the ethical virtue it supports, are expected to be rare, and not widely instantiated. This state of affairs, it is said, is quite compatible with the disturbing, but not exceptionlessly disturbing, behavior in experiments like Milgram's (see Athanassoulis 1999: 217-219; DePaul 1999; Kupperman 2001: 242-3). If this account is supposed to be part of an empirically contentful moral psychology, rather than unverified speculation, we require a detailed and empirically substantiated account of how the virtuous few get that way-remember that an emphasis on moral development is central to the virtue ethics tradition. Moreover, if virtue ethics is supposed to have widespread practical implications-as opposed to being merely a celebration of a tiny "virtue elite"-it should have an account of how the less-than-virtuous-many may at least tolerably approximate virtue.

This point is underscored by the fact that for some of the troubling evidence, as in the Stanford Prison Study, the worry is not so much that people fail standards of virtue, but that they fail standards of minimal decency. Surely an approach to ethics that celebrates moral development, even one that acknowledges (or rather, insists) that most people will not attain its ideal, might be expected to have an account of how people can become minimally decent.

Recently, proponents of virtue ethics have been increasingly proposing a suggestive solution to this problem: virtue is a skill acquired through effortful practice, so virtue is a kind of expertise (Annas 2011; Bloomfield 2000, 2001, 2014; Jacobson 2005; Russell 2015; Snow 2010; Sosa 2009; Stichter 2007, 2011; for reservations, see Doris, in preparation). The virtuous are expert at morality and-given the Aristotelian association of virtue and happiness-expert at life.

An extensive scientific literature indicates that developing expert skill requires extensive preparation, whether the practitioner is a novelist, doctor, or chess master-around 10,000 hours of "deliberate practice", according to a popular generalization (Ericsson 2014; Ericsson et al. 1993). The "10,000-hour rule" is likely an oversimplification, but there is no doubt that attaining expertise requires intensive training. Because of this, people rarely achieve eminence in more than one area; for instance, "baseball trivia" experts display superior recall for baseball-related material, but not for non-baseball material (Chiesi et al. 1979). Conversely, becoming expert at morality, or (even more ambitiously) expert at the whole of life, would apparently require a highly generalized form of expertise: to be good, there's a lot to be good at. Moreover, it's quite unclear what deliberate practice at life involves; how exactly does one get better at being good?

One obvious problem concerns specifying the "good" in question. Expertises like chess have been effectively studied in part because there are accepted standards of excellence (the "ELO" score used for ranking chess players; Glickman 1995). To put it blithely, there aren't any chess skeptics. But there have, historically, been lots of moral skeptics. And if there's not moral knowledge, how could there be moral experts? And even if there are moral experts, there's the problem of how are they to be identified, since it is not clear we are possessed of standard independent of expert opinion itself (like winning chess matches) for doing so (for the "metaethics of expertise", see McGrath 2008, 2011).

Even if these notorious philosophical difficulties can be resolved-as defenders of expertise approaches to virtue must think they can-matters remain complicated, because if moral expertise is like other expertises, practice alone-assuming we have a clear notion of what "moral practice" entails-will be insufficient. While practice matters in attaining expertise, other factors, such as talent, also matter (Hambrick et al. 2014; Macnamara et al. 2014). And some of the required endowments may be quite unequally distributed across populations: practice cannot make a jockey into an NFL lineman, or an NFL lineman into a jockey.

What are the natural endowments required for moral expertise, and how widely are they distributed in the population? If they are rare, like the skill of a chess master or the strength of an NFL lineman, virtue will also be rare. Some virtue ethicists believe virtue should be widely attainable, and they will resist this result (Adams 2006: 119-123, and arguably Aristotle Nicomachean Ethics 1099b15-20). But even virtue ethicists who embrace the rarity of virtue require an account of what the necessary natural endowments are, and if they wish to also have an account of how the less well-endowed may achieve at least minimal decency, they should have something to say about how moral development will proceed across a population with widely varying endowments.

What is needed, for the study of moral character research to advance, is an account of the biological, psychological, and social factors requisite for successful moral development-on the expertise model, the conditions conducive to developing "moral skill". This, quite obviously, is a tall order, and the research needed to systematically address these issue is in comparative infancy. Yet the expertise model, in exploiting connections with areas in which skill acquisition has been well studied, such as music and sport, provides a framework for moving discussion of character beyond the empirically under-informed conjectures and assumptions about "habituation" that have been too frequent in previous literature (Doris 2015: 128).

5. Egoism vs. Altruism

People often behave in ways that benefit others, and they sometimes do this knowing that it will be costly, unpleasant or dangerous. But at least since Plato's classic discussion in the second Book of the Republic, debate has raged over why people behave in this way. Are their motives altruistic, or is their behavior ultimately motivated by self-interest? Famously, Hobbes gave this answer:

No man giveth but with intention of good to himself, because gift is voluntary; and of all voluntary acts, the object is to every man his own good; of which, if men see they shall be frustrated, there will be no beginning of benevolence or trust, nor consequently of mutual help. (1651 [1981: Ch. 15])

Views like Hobbes' have come to be called egoism, and this rather depressing conception of human motivation has any number of eminent philosophical advocates, including Bentham, J.S. Mill and Nietzsche. Dissenting voices, though perhaps fewer in number, have been no less eminent. Butler, Hume, Rousseau and Adam Smith have all argued that, sometimes at least, human motivation is genuinely altruistic.

Though the issue that divides egoistic and altruistic accounts of human motivation is largely empirical, it is easy to see why philosophers have thought that the competing answers will have important consequences for moral theory. For example, Kant famously argued that a person should act "not from inclination but from duty, and by this would his conduct first acquire true moral worth" (1785 [1949: Sec. 1, parag. 12]). But egoism maintains that all human motivation is ultimately self-interested, and thus people can't act "from duty" in the way that Kant urged. Thus if egoism is true, Kant's account would entail that no conduct has "true moral worth". Additionally, if egoism is true, it would appear to impose a strong constraint on how a moral theory can answer the venerable question "Why should I be moral?" since, as Hobbes clearly saw, the answer will have to ground the motivation to be moral in the agent's self-interest.

While the egoism vs. altruism debate has historically been of great philosophical interest, the issue centrally concerns psychological questions about the nature of human motivation, so it's not surprise that psychologists have done a great deal of empirical research aimed at determining which view is correct. Some of the most influential and philosophically sophisticated empirical work on this issue has been done by Daniel Batson and his associates. The conclusion Batson draws from this work is that people do sometimes behave altruistically, and that the emotion of empathy plays an important role in generating altruistic motivation. Others are not convinced. For a discussion of Batson's experiments, the conclusion he draws from them, and some reasons for skepticism about that conclusion, see sections 5 and 6 of the entry "Empirical Approaches to Altruism" in this encyclopedia. In this section, we'll focus on some of the philosophical spadework that is necessary before plunging into the empirical literature.

A crucial question that needs to be addressed is: What, exactly, is the debate about; what is altruism? Unfortunately, there is no uncontroversial answer to this question, since researchers in many disciplines, including philosophy, biology, psychology, sociology, economics, anthropology and primatology, have written about altruism, and authors in different disciplines tend to use the term "altruism" in quite different ways. Even among philosophers the term has been used with importantly different meanings. There is, however, one account of altruism-actually a cluster closely related accounts-that plays a central role both in philosophy and in a great deal of psychology, including Batson's work. We'll call it "the standard account". That will be our focus in the remainder of this section.

According to the standard account, an action is altruistic if it is motivated by an ultimate desire for the well-being of another person. This formulation invites questions about (1) what it is for a behavior to be motivated by an ultimate desire, and (2) the distinction between desires that are self-interested and desires that are for the well-being of others.

Although the second question will need careful consideration in any comprehensive treatment, a few rough and ready examples of the distinction will suffice here. Desires to save someone else's life, to alleviate someone else's suffering, or to make someone else happy are paradigm cases of desires for the well-being of others, while desires to experience pleasure, get rich, and become famous are typical examples of self-interested desires. The self-interested desires to experience pleasure and to avoid pain have played an especially prominent role in the debate, since one version of egoism, often called hedonism, maintains that these are our only ultimate desires.

The first question, regarding ultimate desires, requires a fuller exposition; it can be usefully explicated with the help of a familiar account of practical reasoning. On this account, practical reasoning is a causal process via which a desire and a belief give rise to or sustain another desire. For example, a desire to drink an espresso and a belief that the best place to get an espresso is at the espresso bar on Main Street may cause a desire to go to the espresso bar on Main Street. This desire can then join forces with another belief to generate a third desire, and so on. Sometimes this process will lead to a desire to perform a relatively simple or "basic" action, and that desire, in turn, will cause the agent to perform the basic action without the intervention of any further desires. Desires produced or sustained by this process of practical reasoning are instrumental desires-the agent has them because she thinks that satisfying them will lead to something else that she desires. But not all desires can be instrumental desires. If we are to avoid circularity or an infinite regress there must be some desires that are not produced because the agent thinks that satisfying them will facilitate satisfying some other desire. These desires that are not produced or sustained by practical reasoning are the agent's ultimate desires, and the objects of ultimate desires, the states of affairs desired, are desired for their own sake. A behavior is motivated by a specific ultimate desire when that desire is part of the practical reasoning process that leads to the behavior.

If people do sometimes have ultimate desires for the well-being of others, and these desires motivate behavior, then altruism is the correct view, and egoism is false. However, if all ultimate desires are self-interested, then egoism is the correct view, and altruism is false. The effort to establish one or the other of these options has given rise to a vast and enormously sophisticated empirical literature. For an overview of that literature, see the empirical approaches to altruism entry.

6. Moral Disagreement

Given that moral disagreement-about abortion, say, or capital punishment-so often seems intractable, is there any reason to think that moral problems admit objective resolutions? While this difficulty is of ancient coinage, contemporary philosophical discussion was spurred by Mackie's (1977: 36-8) "argument from relativity" or, as it is called by later writers, the "argument from disagreement" (Brink 1989: 197; Loeb 1998). Such "radical" differences in moral judgment as are frequently observed, Mackie (1977: 36) argued, "make it difficult to treat those judgments as apprehensions of objective truths".

Mackie supposed that his argument undermines moral realism, the view that, as Smith (1994: 9, cf. 13) puts it,

moral questions have correct answers, that the correct answers are made correct by objective moral facts ... and ... by engaging in moral argument, we can discover what these objective moral facts are.

This notion of objectivity, as Smith recognizes, requires convergence in moral views-the right sort of argument, reflection and discussion is expected to result in very substantial moral agreement (Smith 1994: 6).

While moral realists have often taken pretty optimistic positions on the extent of actual moral agreement (e.g., Sturgeon 1988: 229; Smith 1994: 188), there is no denying that there is an abundance of persistent moral disagreement; on many moral issues there is a striking failure of convergence even after protracted argument. Anti-realists like Mackie have a ready explanation for this phenomenon: Moral judgment is not objective in Smith's sense, and moral argument cannot be expected to accomplish what Smith and other realists think it can. Conversely, the realist's task is to explain away failures of convergence; she must provide an explanation of the phenomena consistent with it being the case that moral judgment is objective and moral argument is rationally resolvable. Doris and Plakias (2008) call these "defusing explanations". The realist's strategy is to insist that the preponderance of actual moral disagreement is due to limitations of disputants or their circumstances, and insist that (very substantial, if not unanimous) moral agreement would emerge in ideal conditions, when, for example, disputants are fully rational and fully informed of the relevant non-moral facts.

It is immediately evident that the relative merits of these competing explanations cannot be fairly determined without close discussion of the factors implicated in actual moral disagreements. Indeed, as acute commentators with both realist (Sturgeon 1988: 230) and anti-realist (Loeb 1998: 284) sympathies have noted, the argument from disagreement cannot be evaluated by a priori philosophical means alone; what's needed, as Loeb observes, is "a great deal of further empirical research into the circumstances and beliefs of various cultures". This research is required not only to accurately assess the extent of actual disagreement, but also to determine why disagreement persists or dissolves. Only then can realists' attempts to "explain away" moral disagreement be fairly assessed.

Richard Brandt, who was a pioneer in the effort to integrate ethical theory and the social sciences, looked primarily to anthropology to help determine whether moral attitudes can be expected to converge under idealized circumstances. It is of course well known that anthropology includes a substantial body of work, such as the classic studies of Westermarck (1906) and Sumner (1908 [1934]), detailing the radically divergent moral outlooks found in cultures around the world. But as Brandt (1959: 283-4) recognized, typical ethnographies do not support confident inferences about the convergence of attitudes under ideal conditions, in large measure because they often give limited guidance regarding how much of the moral disagreement can be traced to disagreement about factual matters that are not moral in nature, such as those having to do with religious or cosmological views.

With this sort of difficulty in mind, Brandt (1954) undertook his own anthropological study of Hopi people in the American southwest, and found issues for which there appeared to be serious moral disagreement between typical Hopi and white American attitudes that could not plausibly be attributed to differences in belief about nonmoral facts. A notable example is the Hopi attitude toward animal suffering, an attitude that might be expected to disturb many non-Hopis:

[Hopi children] sometimes catch birds and make "pets" of them. They may be tied to a string, to be taken out and "played" with. This play is rough, and birds seldom survive long. [According to one informant:] "Sometimes they get tired and die. Nobody objects to this". (Brandt 1954: 213)

Brandt (1959: 103) made a concerted effort to determine whether this difference in moral outlook could be traced to disagreement about nonmoral facts, but he could find no plausible explanation of this kind; his Hopi informants didn't believe that animals lack the capacity to feel pain, for example, nor did they have cosmological beliefs that would explain away the apparent cruelty of the practice, such as beliefs to the effect that animals are rewarded for martyrdom in the afterlife. The best explanation of the divergent moral judgments, Brandt (1954: 245, 284) concluded, is a "basic difference of attitude", since "groups do sometimes make divergent appraisals when they have identical beliefs about the objects".

Moody-Adams argues that little of philosophical import can be concluded from Brandt's-and indeed from much-ethnographic work. Deploying Gestalt psychology's doctrine of "situational meaning" (e.g., Dunker 1939), Moody-Adams (1997: 34-43) contends that all institutions, utterances, and behaviors have meanings that are peculiar to their cultural milieu, so that we cannot be certain that participants in cross-cultural disagreements are talking about the same thing. The problem of situational meaning, she thinks, threatens "insuperable" methodological difficulty for those asserting the existence of intractable intercultural disagreement (1997: 36). Advocates of ethnographic projects will likely respond-not unreasonably, we think-that judicious observation and interview, such as that to which Brandt aspired, can motivate confident assessments of evaluative diversity. Suppose, however, that Moody-Adams is right, and the methodological difficulties are insurmountable. Now, there's an equitable distribution of the difficulty: if observation and interview are really as problematic as Moody-Adams suggests, neither the realists' nor the anti-realists' take on disagreement can be supported by appeal to empirical evidence. We do not think that such a stalemate obtains, because we think the implicated methodological pessimism excessive. Serious empirical work can, we think, tell us a lot about cultures and the differences between them. The appropriate way of proceeding is with close attention to particular studies, and what they show and fail to show.

As Brandt (1959: 101-2) acknowledged, the anthropological literature of his day did not always provide as much information on the exact contours and origins of moral attitudes and beliefs as philosophers wondering about the prospects for convergence might like. However, social psychology and cognitive science have recently produced research which promises to further discussion; during the last 35 years, there has been an explosion of "cultural psychology" investigating the cognitive and emotional processes of different cultures (Shweder & Bourne 1982; Markus & Kitayama 1991; Ellsworth 1994; Nisbett & Cohen 1996; Nisbett 1998, 2003; Kitayama & Markus 1999; Heine 2008; Kitayama & Cohen 2010; Henrich 2015). Here we will focus on some cultural differences found close to (our) home, differences discovered by Nisbett and his colleagues while investigating regional patterns of violence in the American North and South. We argue that these findings support Brandt's pessimistic conclusions regarding the likelihood of convergence in moral judgment.

The Nisbett group's research can be seen as applying the tools of cognitive social psychology to the "culture of honor", a phenomenon that anthropologists have documented in a variety of groups around the world. Although these groups differ in many respects, they manifest important commonalities:

A key aspect of the culture of honor is the importance placed on the insult and the necessity to respond to it. An insult implies that the target is weak enough to be bullied. Since a reputation for strength is of the essence in the culture of honor, the individual who insults someone must be forced to retract; if the instigator refuses, he must be punished-with violence or even death. (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: 5)

According to Nisbett and Cohen (1996: 5-9), an important factor in the genesis of southern honor culture was the presence of a herding economy. Honor cultures are particularly likely to develop where resources are liable to theft, and where the state's coercive apparatus cannot be relied upon to prevent or punish thievery. These conditions often occur in relatively remote areas where herding is a main form of subsistence; the "portability" of herd animals makes them prone to theft. In areas where farming rather than herding dominates, cooperation among neighbors is more important, stronger government infrastructures are more common, and resources-like decidedly unportable farmland-are harder to steal. In such agrarian social economies, cultures of honor tend not to develop. The American South was originally settled primarily by peoples from remote areas of Britain. Since their homelands were generally unsuitable for farming, these peoples have historically been herders; when they emigrated from Britain to the American South, they initially sought out remote regions suitable for herding, and in such regions, the culture of honor flourished.

In the contemporary South, police and other government services are widely available and herding has all but disappeared as a way of life, but certain sorts of violence continue to be more common than they are in the North. Nisbett and Cohen (1996) maintain that patterns of violence in the South, as well as attitudes toward violence, insults, and affronts to honor, are best explained by the hypothesis that a culture of honor persists among contemporary white non-Hispanic southerners. In support of this hypothesis, they offer a compelling array of evidence, including:

demographic data indicating that (1) among southern whites, homicides rates are higher in regions more suited to herding than agriculture, and (2) white males in the South are much more likely than white males in other regions to be involved in homicides resulting from arguments, although they are not more likely to be involved in homicides that occur in the course of a robbery or other felony (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: Ch. 2)

survey data indicating that white southerners are more likely than northerners to believe that violence would be "extremely justified" in response to a variety of affronts, and that if a man failed to respond violently to such affronts, he was "not much of a man" (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: Ch. 3)

legal scholarship indicating that southern states "give citizens more freedom to use violence in defending themselves, their homes, and their property" than do northern states (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: Ch. 5, p. 63)

Two experimental studies-one in the field, the other in the laboratory-are especially striking.

In the field study (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: 73-5), letters of inquiry were sent to hundreds of employers around the United States. The letters purported to be from a hardworking 27-year-old Michigan man who had a single blemish on his otherwise solid record. In one version, the "applicant" revealed that he had been convicted for manslaughter. The applicant explained that he had been in a fight with a man who confronted him in a bar and told onlookers that "he and my fiancée were sleeping together. He laughed at me to my face and asked me to step outside if I was man enough". According to the letter, the applicant's nemesis was killed in the ensuing fray. In the other version of the letter, the applicant revealed that he had been convicted of motor vehicle theft, perpetrated at a time when he needed money for his family. Nisbett and his colleagues assessed 112 letters of response, and found that southern employers were significantly more likely to be cooperative and sympathetic in response to the manslaughter letter than were northern employers, while no regional differences were found in responses to the theft letter. One southern employer responded to the manslaughter letter as follows:

As for your problems of the past, anyone could probably be in the situation you were in. It was just an unfortunate incident that shouldn't be held against you. Your honesty shows that you are sincere.... I wish you the best of luck for your future. You have a positive attitude and a willingness to work. These are qualities that businesses look for in employees. Once you are settled, if you are near here, please stop in and see us. (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: 75)

No letters from northern employers were comparably sympathetic.

In the laboratory study (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: 45-8) subjects-white males from both northern and southern states attending the University of Michigan-were told that saliva samples would be collected to measure blood sugar as they performed various tasks. After an initial sample was collected, the unsuspecting subject walked down a narrow corridor where an experimental confederate was pretending to work on some filing. The confederate bumped the subject and, feigning annoyance, called him an "asshole". A few minutes after the incident, saliva samples were collected and analyzed to determine the level of cortisol-a hormone associated with high levels of stress, anxiety and arousal, and testosterone-a hormone associated with aggression and dominance behavior. As Figure 1 indicates, southern subjects showed dramatic increases in cortisol and testosterone levels, while northerners exhibited much smaller changes.

The two studies just described suggest that southerners respond more strongly to insult than northerners, and take a more sympathetic view of others who do so, manifesting just the sort of attitudes that are supposed to typify honor cultures. We think that the data assembled by Nisbett and his colleagues make a persuasive case that a culture of honor persists in the American South. Apparently, this culture affects people's judgments, attitudes, emotion, behavior, and even their physiological responses. Additionally, there is evidence that child rearing practices play a significant role in passing the culture of honor on from one generation to the next, and also that relatively permissive laws regarding gun ownership, self-defense, and corporal punishment in the schools both reflect and reinforce southern honor culture (Nisbett & Cohen 1996: 60-63, 67-9). In short, it seems to us that the culture of honor is deeply entrenched in contemporary southern culture, despite the fact that many of the material and economic conditions giving rise to it no longer widely obtain.

We believe that the North/South cultural differences adduced by Nisbett and colleagues support Brandt's conclusion that moral attitudes will often fail to converge, even under ideal conditions. The data should be especially troubling for the realist, for despite the differences that we have been recounting, contemporary northern and southern Americans might be expected to have rather more in common-from circumstance to language to belief to ideology-than do, say, Yanomamö and Parisians. So if there is little ground for expecting convergence in the case at hand, there is probably little ground in a good many others.

Fraser and Hauser (2010) are not convinced by our interpretation of Nisbett and Cohen's data. They maintain that while those data do indicate that northerners and southerners differ in the strength of their disapproval of insult-provoked violence, they do not show that northerners and southerners have a real moral disagreement. They go on to argue that the work of Abarbanell and Hauser (2010) provides a much more persuasive example of a systematic moral disagreement between people in different cultural groups. Abarbanell and Hauser focused on the moral judgments of rural Mayan people in the Mexican state of Chiapas. They found that people in that community do not judge actions causing harms to be worse than omissions (failures to act) which cause identical harms, while nearby urban Mayan people and Western internet users judge actions to be substantially worse than omissions.

Though we are not convinced by Fraser and Hauser's interpretation of the Nisbett and Cohen data, we agree that the Abarbanell and Hauser study provides a compelling example of a systematic cultural difference in moral judgement. Barrett et al. (2016) provides another example. That study looked at the extent to which an agent's intention affected the moral judgments of people in eight traditional small-scale societies and two Western societies, one urban, one rural. They found that in some of these societies, notably including both Western groups, the agent's intention had a major effect, while in other societies agent intention had little or no effect.

As we said at the outset, realists defending conjectures about convergence may attempt to explain away evaluative diversity by arguing that the diversity is to be attributed to shortcomings of discussants or their circumstances. If this strategy can be made good, moral realism may survive an empirically informed argument from disagreement: so much the worse for the instance of moral reflection and discussion in question, not so much the worse for the objectivity of morality. While we cannot here canvass all the varieties of this suggestion, we will briefly remark on some of the more common forms. For concreteness, we will focus on Nisbett and Cohen's study.

Impartiality. One strategy favored by moral realists concerned to explain away moral disagreement is to say that such disagreement stems from the distorting effects of individual interest (see Sturgeon 1988: 229-230; Enoch 2009: 24-29); perhaps persistent disagreement doesn't so much betray deep features of moral argument and judgment as it does the doggedness with which individuals pursue their perceived advantage. For instance, seemingly moral disputes over the distribution of wealth may be due to perceptions-perhaps mostly inchoate-of individual and class interests rather than to principled disagreement about justice; persisting moral disagreement in such circumstances fails the impartiality condition, and is therefore untroubling to the moral realist. But it is rather implausible to suggest that North/South disagreements as to when violence is justified will fail the impartiality condition. There is no reason to think that southerners would be unwilling to universalize their judgments across relevantly similar individuals in relevantly similar circumstances, as indeed Nisbett and Cohen's "letter study" suggests. One can advocate a violent honor code without going in for special pleading. We do not intend to denigrate southern values; our point is that while there may be good reasons for criticizing the honor-bound southerner, it is not obvious that the reason can be failure of impartiality, if impartiality is (roughly) to be understood along the lines of a willingness to universalize one's moral judgments.

Full and vivid awareness of relevant nonmoral facts. Moral realists have argued that moral disagreements very often derive from disagreement about nonmoral issues. According to Boyd (1988: 213; cf. Brink 1989: 202-3; Sturgeon 1988: 229),

careful philosophical examination will reveal ... that agreement on nonmoral issues would eliminate almost all disagreement about the sorts of moral issues which arise in ordinary moral practice.

Is this a plausible conjecture for the data we have just considered? We find it hard to imagine what agreement on nonmoral facts could do the trick, for we can readily imagine that northerners and southerners might be in full agreement on the relevant nonmoral facts in the cases described. Members of both groups would presumably agree that the job applicant was cuckolded, for example, or that calling someone an "asshole" is an insult. We think it much more plausible to suppose that the disagreement resides in differing and deeply entrenched evaluative attitudes regarding appropriate responses to cuckolding, challenge, and insult.

Savvy philosophical readers will be quick to observe that terms like "challenge" and "insult" look like "thick" ethical terms, where the evaluative and descriptive are commingled (see Williams 1985: 128-30); therefore, it is very difficult to say what the extent of the factual disagreement is. But this is of little help for the expedient under consideration, since the disagreement-in-nonmoral-fact response apparently requires that one can disentangle factual and moral disagreement.

It is of course possible that full and vivid awareness of the nonmoral facts might motivate the sort of change in southern attitudes envisaged by the (at least the northern) moral realist. Were southerners to become vividly aware that their culture of honor was implicated in violence, they might be moved to change their moral outlook. (We take this way of putting the example to be the most natural one, but nothing philosophical turns on it. If you like, substitute the possibility of northerners endorsing honor values after exposure to the facts.) On the other hand, southerners might insist that the values of honor should be nurtured even at the cost of promoting violence; the motto "death before dishonor", after all, has a long and honorable history. The burden of argument, we think, lies with the realist who asserts- culture and history notwithstanding -that southerners would change their mind if vividly aware of the pertinent facts.

Freedom from "Abnormality". Realists may contend that much moral disagreement may result from failures of rationality on the part of discussants (Brink 1989: 199-200). Obviously, disagreement stemming from cognitive impairments is no embarrassment for moral realism; at the limit, that a disagreement persists when some or all disputing parties are quite insane shows nothing deep about morality. But it doesn't seem plausible that southerners' more lenient attitudes towards certain forms of violence are readily attributed to widespread cognitive disability. Of course, this is an empirical issue, but we don't know of any evidence suggesting that southerners suffer some cognitive impairment that prevents them from understanding demographic and attitudinal factors in the genesis of violence, or any other matter of fact. What is needed to press home a charge of irrationality is evidence of cognitive impairment independent of the attitudinal differences, and further evidence that this impairment is implicated in adherence to the disputed values. In this instance, as in many others, we have difficulty seeing how charges of abnormality or irrationality can be made without one side begging the question against the other.

Nisbett and colleagues' work may represent a potent counterexample to any theory maintaining that rational argument tends to convergence on important moral issues; the evidence suggests that the North/South differences in attitudes towards violence and honor might well persist even under the sort of ideal conditions under consideration. Admittedly, such conclusions must be tentative. On the philosophical side, not every plausible strategy for "explaining away" moral disagreement and grounding expectations of convergence has been considered. On the empirical side, this entry has reported on but a few studies, and those considered, like any empirical work, might be criticized on either conceptual or methodological grounds. Finally, it should be clear what this entry is not claiming: any conclusions here-even if fairly earned-are not a "refutation" of all versions of moral realism, since there are versions of moral realism that do not require convergence (Bloomfield 2001; Shafer-Landau 2003). Rather, this discussion should give an idea of the empirical work philosophers must encounter, if they are to make defensible conjectures regarding moral disagreement.

7. Conclusion

Progress in ethical theorizing often requires progress on difficult psychological questions about how human beings can be expected to function in moral contexts. It is no surprise, then, that moral psychology is a central area of inquiry in philosophical ethics. It should also come as no surprise that empirical research, such as that conducted in psychology departments, may substantially abet such inquiry. Nor then, should it surprise that research in moral psychology has become methodologically pluralistic, exploiting the resources of, and endeavoring to contribute to, various disciplines. Here, we have illustrated how such interdisciplinary inquiry may proceed with regard to central problems in philosophical ethics.

Bibliography

Abarbanell, Linda and Marc D. Hauser, 2010, "Mayan Morality: An Exploration of Permissible Harms", Cognition, 115(2): 207-224. doi:10.1016/j.cognition.2009.12.007

Adams, Robert Merrihew, 2006, A Theory of Virtue: Excellence in Being for the Good, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199207510.001.0001

Alfano, Mark, 2013, Character as Moral Fiction, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9781139208536

---, 2016, Moral Psychology: An Introduction, Cambridge: Polity Press.

Andow, James and Florian Cova, 2016, "Why Compatibilist Intuitions Are Not Mistaken: A Reply to Feltz and Millan", Philosophical Psychology, 29(4): 550-566. doi:10.1080/09515089.2015.1082542

Annas, Julia, 2005, "Comments on John Doris' Lack of Character", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 71(3): 636-642. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2005.tb00476.x

---, 2011, Intelligent Virtue, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199228782.001.0001

Anscombe, G.E.M., 1958, "Modern Moral Philosophy", Philosophy, 33(124): 1-19. doi:10.1017/S0031819100037943

Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 2008, Experiments in Ethics, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics, in The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by J. Barnes, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984.

Arpaly, Nomy, 2005, "Comments on Lack of Character by John Doris",Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 71(3): 643-647. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2005.tb00477.x

Athanassoulis, Nafsika, 1999, "A Response to Harman: Virtue Ethics and Character Traits", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 100(1): 215-222. doi:10.1111/j.0066-7372.2003.00012.x

Badhwar, Neera K., 2009, "The Milgram Experiments, Learned Helplessness, and Character Traits", The Journal of Ethics, 13(2-3): 257-289. doi:10.1007/s10892-009-9052-4

Baron, Jonathan, 1994, "Nonconsequentialist Decisions", Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 17(1): 1-42. doi:10.1017/S0140525X0003301X

---, 2001, Thinking and Deciding, 3rd edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Barrett, H.C., A. Bolyanatz, A. Crittenden, D.M.T. Fessler, S. Fitzpatrick, M. Gurven, J. Henrich, M. Kanovsky, G. Kushnick, A. Pisor, B. Scelza, S. Stich, C. von Rueden, W. Zhao and S. Laurence, 2016, "Small-Scale Societies Exhibit Fundamental Variation in the Role of Intentions in Moral Judgment", Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 113(17): 4688-4693. doi:10.1073/pnas.1522070113

Batson, C. Daniel, 1991, The Altruism Question: Toward a Social-Psychological Answer, Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

---, 2011, Altruism in Humans, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195341065.001.0001

Bear, Adam and Joshua Knobe, 2016, "What Do People Find Incompatible With Causal Determinism?" Cognitive Science, 40(8): 2025-2049. doi:10.1111/cogs.12314

Besser-Jones, Lorraine, 2008, "Social Psychology, Moral Character, and Moral Fallibility", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 76(2): 310-332. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2007.00134.x

Björnsson, Gunnar, 2014, "Incompatibilism and 'Bypassed' Agency", in Alfred R. Mele (ed.), Surrounding Free Will, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 95-112. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199333950.003.0006

Björnsson, Gunnar and Derk Pereboom, 2016, "Traditional and Experimental Approaches to Free Will and Moral Responsibility", in Sytsma and Buckwalter 2016: 142-157. doi:10.1002/9781118661666.ch9

Bloomfield, Paul, 2000, "Virtue Epistemology and the Epistemology of Virtue", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 60(1): 23-43. doi:10.2307/2653426

---, 2001, Moral Reality, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195137132.001.0001

---, 2014, "Some Intellectual Aspects of the Cardinal Virtues", in Oxford Studies in Normative Ethics, volume 3, Mark Timmons (ed.), pp. 287-313. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199685905.003.0013

Boorse, Christopher, 1975, "On the Distinction between Disease and Illness", Philosophy and Public Affairs, 5(1): 49-68.

Boyd, Richard, 1988, "How to Be a Moral Realist", in Sayre-McCord 1988b: 181-228.

Brandt, Richard B., 1954, Hopi Ethics: A Theoretical Analysis, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

---, 1959, Ethical Theory: The Problems of Normative and Critical Ethics, Englewood Cliff, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Bratman, Michael E., 1996, "Identification, Decision, and Treating as a Reason", Philosophical Topics, 24(2): 1-18. doi:10.5840/philtopics19962429

Brink, David Owen, 1989, Moral Realism and the Foundations of Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511624612

Broad, C.D., 1930, Five Types of Ethical Theory, New York: Harcourt, Brace.

---, 1950, "Egoism as a Theory of Human Motives", The Hibbert Journal, 48: 105-114. Reprinted in hisEthics and the History of Philosophy: Selected Essays, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1952, 218-231.

Cameron, C. Daryl, B. Keith Payne, and John M. Doris, 2013, "Morality in High Definition: Emotion Differentiation Calibrates the Influence of Incidental Disgust on Moral Judgments", Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 49(4): 719-725. doi:10.1016/j.jesp.2013.02.014

Campbell, C.A., 1951, "Is 'Freewill' a Pseudo-problem?" Mind, 60(240): 441-465. doi:10.1093/mind/LX.240.441

Cappelen, Herman, 2012, Philosophy Without Intuitions, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199644865.001.0001

Cervone, Daniel and Yuichi Shoda (eds.), 1999, The Coherence of Personality: Social-Cognitive Bases of Consistency, Variability, and Organization, New York and London: Guilford Press.

Chiesi, Harry L., George J. Spilich, and James F. Voss, 1979, "Acquisition of domain-related information in relation to high and low domain knowledge", Journal of verbal learning and verbal behavior, 18(3): 257-273. doi:10.1016/S0022-5371(79)90146-4

Cialdini, Robert B., Stephanie L. Brown, Brian P. Lewis, Carol Luce and Stephen L. Neuberg, 1997, "Reinterpreting the Empathy-Altruism Relationship: When One into One Equals Oneness", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 73(3), 481- 494. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.73.3.481

Cova, Florian and Yasuko Kitano, 2013, "Experimental Philosophy and the Compatibility of Free Will and Determinism: A Survey", Annals of the Japan Association for Philosophy of Science, 22: 17-37. doi:10.4288/jafpos.22.0_17

Cova, Florian, Maxime Bertoux, Sacha Bourgeois-Gironde, and Bruno Dubois, 2012, "Judgments about Moral Responsibility and Determinism in Patients with Behavioural Variant of Frontotemporal Dementia: Still Compatibilists", Consciousness and Cognition, 21(2): 851-864. doi:10.1016/j.concog.2012.02.004

Cuneo, Terence, 2014, Speech and Morality: On the Metaethical Implications of Speaking, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198712725.001.0001

Darley, John M. and C. Daniel Batson, 1973, "'From Jerusalem to Jericho': A Study of Situational and Dispositional Variables In Helping Behavior", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 27(1): 100-108. doi:10.1037/h0034449

Decety, Jean and Thalia Wheatley (eds.), 2015, The Moral Brain: A Multidisciplinary Perspective, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Deery, Oisin and Eddy Nahmias, 2017, "Defeating Manipulation Arguments: Interventionist Causation and Compatibilist Sourcehood", Philosophical Studies, 174(5): 1255-1276. doi:10.1007/s11098-016-0754-8.

Dennett, Daniel C., 1984, Elbow Room: The Varieties of Free Will Worth Wanting, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

DePaul, Michael, 1999, "Character Traits, Virtues, and Vices: Are There None?" in Proceedings of the 20th World Congress of Philosophy, v. 1, Bowling Green, OH: Philosophy Documentation Center, pp. 141-157.

Deutsch, Max, 2015, The Myth of the Intuitive: Experimental Philosophy and Philosophical Method, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. doi:10.7551/mitpress/9780262028950.001.0001

Dixon, Thomas, 2008, The Invention of Altruism: Making Moral Meanings in Victorian Britain, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.5871/bacad/9780197264263.001.0001

Donnellan, M. Brent, Richard E. Lucas, and William Fleeson (eds.), 2009, "Personality and Assessment at Age 40: Reflections on the Past Person-Situation Debate and Emerging Directions of Future Person-Situation Integration and Assessment at Age 40", Journal of Research in Personality, special issue, 43(2): 117-290.

Doris, John M., 1998, "Persons, Situations, and Virtue Ethics", Noûs, 32(4): 504-530. doi:10.1111/0029-4624.00136

---, 2002, Lack of Character: Personality and Moral Behavior, New York: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9781139878364

---, 2005, "Précis" and "Replies: Evidence and Sensibility", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 71(3): 632-5, 656-77. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2005.tb00479.x

---, 2006, "Out of Character: On the Psychology of Excuses in the Criminal Law", in H. LaFollette (ed.), Ethics in Practice, third edition, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

---, 2010, "Heated Agreement: Lack of Character as Being for the Good",Philosophical Studies, 148(1): 135-46. doi:10.1007/s11098-010-9507-2

---, 2015, Talking to Our Selves: Reflection, Ignorance, and Agency, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199570393.001.0001

---, forthcoming, Character Trouble: Undisciplined Essays on Personality and Agency, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, in preparation, "Making Good: In Search of Moral Expertise".

Doris, John M. and Alexandra Plakias, 2008, "How to Argue about Disagreement: Evaluative Diversity and Moral Realism", in Sinnott-Armstrong 2008b: 303-353.

Doris, John M. and Jesse J. Prinz, 2009, "Review of K. Anthony Appiah, Experiments in Ethics", Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews, 2009-10-03. URL = <http://ndpr.nd.edu/news/experiments-in-ethics/>

Doris, John M. and The Moral Psychology Research Group (eds.)., 2010, The Moral Psychology Handbook, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199582143.001.0001

Doris, John M. and Stephen P. Stich, 2005, "As a Matter of Fact: Empirical Perspectives on Ethics", in Frank Jackson and Michael Smith (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Contemporary Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Dunker, Karl, 1939, "Ethical Relativity? (An Enquiry into the Psychology of Ethics)", Mind, 48(189): 39-53. doi:10.1093/mind/XLVIII.189.39

Ellsworth, Phoebe C., 1994, "Sense, Culture, and Sensibility", in Shinobu Kitayama and Hazel Rose Markus (eds.), Emotion and Culture: Empirical Studies of Mutual Influence, Washington: American Psychological Association.

Enoch, David, 2009, "How is Moral Disagreement a Problem for Realism?" The Journal of Ethics, 13(1): 15-50. doi:10.1007/s10892-008-9041-z.

---, 2011, Taking Morality Seriously: A Defense of Robust Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199579969.001.0001

Ericsson, K. Anders, 2014, "Why Expert Performance Is Special and Cannot Be Extrapolated From Studies of Performance in the General Population: A Response to Criticisms", Intelligence, 45: 81-103. doi:10.1016/j.intell.2013.12.001

Ericsson, K. Anders, Ralf Th. Krampe, and Clemens Tesch-Römer, 1993, "The Role of Deliberate Practice in the Acquisition of Expert Performance", Psychological Review, 100(3): 363-406. doi:10.1037/0033-295X.100.3.363

Feinberg, Joel, 1965 [1999], "Psychological Egoism", in Reason and Responsibility, Joel Feinberg (ed.), Belmont, CA: Dickenson Publishing. Reprinted in various editions including the tenth, co-edited with Russ Shafer-Landau, Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1999. Based on materials composed for philosophy students at Brown University, 1958.

Feltz, Adam and Florian Cova, 2014, "Moral Responsibility and Free Will: A Meta-Analysis", Consciousness and Cognition, 30: 234-246. doi:10.1016/j.concog.2014.08.012

Feltz, Adam and Melissa Millan, 2013, "An Error Theory for Compatibilist Intuitions", Philosophical Psychology, 28(4): 529-555. doi:10.1080/09515089.2013.865513

Figdor, Carrie and Mark Phelan, 2015, "Is Free Will Necessary for Moral Responsibility? A Case for Rethinking Their Relationship and the Design of Experimental Studies in Moral Psychology", Mind and Language, 30(5): 603-627. doi:10.1111/mila.12092

Fischer, John Martin, 1994, The Metaphysics of Free Will, Oxford: Blackwell.

Flanagan, Owen, 1991, Varieties of Moral Personality: Ethics and Psychological Realism, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

---, 2009, "Moral Science? Still Metaphysical After All These Years", in Darcia Narvaez and Daniel K. Lapsley (eds.), Personality, Identity, and Character, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 52-78.

Frankfurt, Harry, 1988, The Importance of What We Care About, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Fraser, Ben and Marc Hauser, 2010, "The Argument from Disagreement and the Role of Cross-Cultural Empirical Data", Mind and Language, 25(5): 541-560. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0017.2010.01400.x

Fulford, K.W.M., 1989, Moral Theory and Medical Practice, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Gigerenzer, Gerd, 2000, Adaptive Thinking: Rationality in the Real World, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195153729.001.0001

Gigerenzer, Gerd, Peter M. Todd, and the ABC Research Group., 1999, Simple Heuristics that Make Us Smart, New York: Oxford University Press.

Gilovich, Thomas, Dale W. Griffin, and Daniel Kahneman (eds.), 2002, Heuristics and Biases: The Psychology of Intuitive Judgment, New York: Cambridge University Press.

Glickman, Mark E., 1995, "A Comprehensive Guide to Chess Ratings", American Chess Journal, 3: 59-102.

Goldman, Alvin I., 1970, A Theory of Human Action, Englewood-Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Haidt, Jonathan, Silvia Helena Koller, and Maria G. Dias, 1993, "Affect, Culture, and Morality, Or Is It Wrong to Eat Your Dog?" Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 65(4): 613-28. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.65.4.613

Haji, Ishtiyaque, 2002, "Compatiblist Views of Freedom and Responsibility", in Robert Kane (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Free Will, New York: Oxford University Press.

Hambrick, David Z., Frederick L. Oswald, Erik M. Altmann, Elizabeth J. Meinz, Fernand Gobet, and Guillermo Campitelli, 2014, "Deliberate Practice: Is That All It Takes to Become an Expert?" Intelligence, 45: 34-45. doi:10.1016/j.intell.2013.04.001

Harman, Gilbert, 1999, "Moral Philosophy Meets Social Psychology: Virtue Ethics and the Fundamental Attribution Error", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 99: 315-331.

---, 2000, "The Nonexistence of Character Traits", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 100: 223-226. doi:10.1111/j.0066-7372.2003.00013.x

---, 2009, "Skepticism about Character Traits", The Journal of Ethics, 13(2-3): 235-242. doi:10.1007/s10892-009-9050-6

Heine, Steven J., 2008, Cultural Psychology, New York: W.W. Norton.

Helzer, Erik G. and David A. Pizarro, 2011, "Dirty Liberals! Reminders of Physical Cleanliness Influence Moral and Political Attitudes", Psychological Science, 22(4): 517-522. doi:10.1177/0956797611402514

Henrich, Joseph, 2015, The Secret of Our Success: How Culture Is Driving Human Evolution, Domesticating Our Species, and Making Us Smarter, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Hobbes, Thomas, 1651 [1981], Leviathan: Edited with an Introduction by C.B. Macpherson, London: Penguin Books.

Horowitz, Tamara, 1998, "Philosophical Intuitions and Psychological Theory", in Michael R. DePaul and William Ramsey (eds.), Rethinking Intuition: The Psychology of Intuition and its Role in Philosophical Inquiry, Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield.

Hursthouse, Rosalind, 1999, On Virtue Ethics, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199247994.001.0001

Isen, Alice M. and Paula F. Levin, 1972, "Effect of Feeling Good on Helping: Cookies and Kindness", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 21(3): 384-388. doi:10.1037/h0032317

Jackson, Frank, 1998, From Metaphysics to Ethics: A Defense of Conceptual Analysis, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0198250614.001.0001

Jackson, Frank and Philip Pettit, 1995, "Moral Functionalism and Moral Motivation", Philosophical Quarterly, 45(178): 20-40. doi:10.2307/2219846

Jacobson, Daniel, 2005, "Seeing By Feeling: Virtues, Skills, and Moral Perception", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 8(4): 387-409. doi:10.1007/s10677-005-8837-1

Joyce, Richard, 2006, The Evolution of Morality, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Kahneman, Daniel, 2011, Thinking, Fast and Slow, New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Kahneman, Daniel, Paul Slovic, and Amos Tversky, 1982, Judgment Under Uncertainty: Heuristics and Biases, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511809477

Kamtekar, Rachana, 2004, "Situationism and Virtue Ethics on the Content of Our Character", Ethics, 114(3): 458-91. doi:10.1086/381696

Kane, Robert, 1996, The Significance of Free Will, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195126564.001.0001

---, 1999, "Responsibility, Luck, and Chance: Reflections on Free Will and Indeterminism", Journal of Philosophy, 96(5): 217-240. doi:10.5840/jphil199996537

---, 2002, "Introduction: The Contours of Contemporary Free Will Debates", in Robert Kane (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Free Will, New York: Oxford University Press.

Kant, Immanuel, 1785 [1949], Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals, Translated by Thomas K. Abbott. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall / Library of Liberal Arts.

Kitayama, Shinobu and Hazel Rose Markus, 1999, "Yin and Yang of the Japanese Self: The Cultural Psychology of Personality Coherence", in Cervone and Shoda 1999: ch. 8.

Kitayama, Shinobu and Dov Cohen, 2010, Handbook of Cultural Psychology, New York: Guilford Press.

Kitcher, Philip, 2010, "Varieties of Altruism", Economics and Philosophy, 26(2): 121-148. doi:10.1017/S0266267110000167

---, 2011, The Ethical Project, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Knobe, Joshua, 2003a, "Intentional Action and Side Effects in Ordinary Language", Analysis, 63(279): 190-193. doi:10.1111/1467-8284.00419

---, 2003b, "Intentional Action in Folk Psychology: An Experimental Investigation", Philosophical Psychology, 16(2): 309-324. doi:10.1080/09515080307771

---, 2006, "The Concept of Intentional Action: A Case Study in the Uses of Folk Psychology", Philosophical Studies, 130(2): 203-231. doi:10.1007/s11098-004-4510-0

---, 2010, "Person as Scientist, Person as Moralist", Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 33(4): 315-329. doi:10.1017/S0140525X10000907

---, 2014, "Free Will and the Scientific Vision", in Edouard Machery and Elizabeth O'Neill (eds.), Current Controversies in Experimental Philosophy, New York and London: Routledge.

Knobe, Joshua and Brian Leiter, 2007, "The Case for Nietzschean Moral Psychology", in Brian Leiter and Neil Sinhababu (eds.) Nietzsche and Morality, Oxford: Oxford University Press. 83-109.

Kruger, Justin and David Dunning, 1999, "Unskilled and Unaware of It: How Difficulties in Recognizing One's Own Incompetence Lead to Inflated Self-Assessments", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 77(6): 1121-1134. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.77.6.1121

Kupperman, Joel J., 2001, "The Indispensability of Character", Philosophy, 76(02): 239-50. doi:10.1017/S0031819101000250

Ladd, John, 1957, The Structure of a Moral Code: A Philosophical Analysis of Ethical Discourse Applied to the Ethics of the Navaho Indians, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

LaFollette, Hugh (ed.), 2000, The Blackwell Guide to Ethical Theory, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

Leikas, Sointu, Jan-Erik Lönnqvist, and Markku Verkasalo, 2012, "Persons, Situations, and Behaviors: Consistency and Variability of Different Behaviors in Four Interpersonal Situations", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 103(6): 1007-1022. doi:10.1037/a0030385

Lerner, Jennifer S., Julie H. Goldberg, and Philip E. Tetlock, 1998, "Sober Second Thought: The Effects of Accountability, Anger, and Authoritarianism on Attributions of Responsibility", Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 24(6): 563-574. doi:10.1177/0146167298246001

Lewis, David, 1989, "Dispositional Theories of Value", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 63 (supp): 113-37.

Liao, S. Matthew, Alex Wiegmann, Joshua Alexander, and Gerard Vong, 2012, "Putting the Trolley in Order: Experimental Philosophy and the Loop Case", Philosophical Psychology, 25(5): 661-671. doi:10.1080/09515089.2011.627536

Loeb, Don., 1998, "Moral Realism and the Argument from Disagreement", Philosophical Studies, 90(3): 281-303. doi:10.1023/A:1004267726440

Machery, Edouard, 2010, "The Bleak Implications of Moral Psychology", Neuroethics, 3(3): 223-231. doi:10.1007/s12152-010-9063-7

Machery, Edouard and John M. Doris, forthcoming, "An Open Letter to Our Students: Going Interdisciplinary", in Voyer and Tarantola forthcoming.

MacIntyre, Alasdair, 1967, "Egoism and Altruism", in Paul Edwards (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 2, first edition, New York: Macmillan, pp. 462-466.

Mackie, J.L., 1977, Ethics: Inventing Right and Wrong, New York: Penguin Books.

Macnamara, Brooke N., David Z. Hambrick, and Frederick L. Oswald, 2014, "Deliberate Practice and Performance in Music, Games, Sports, Education, and Professions: A Meta-Analysis", Psychological Science, 25(8): 1608-1618. doi:10.1177/0956797614535810

Markus, Hazel R. and Shinobu Kitayama, 1991, "Culture and the Self: Implications for Cognition, Emotion, and Motivation", Psychological Review, 98(2): 224-253. doi:10.1037/0033-295X.98.2.224

May, Joshua, 2011a, "Psychological Egoism", Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.. URL = <https://www.iep.utm.edu/psychego/>

---, 2011b, "Egoism, Empathy, and Self-Other Merging", Southern Journal of Philosophy, 49(s1): 25-39. doi:10.1111/j.2041-6962.2011.00055.x

---, 2011c, "Relational Desires and Empirical Evidence against Psychological Egoism: On Psychological Egoism", European Journal of Philosophy, 19(1): 39-58. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0378.2009.00379.x

McGrath, Sarah, 2008, "Moral Disagreement and Moral Expertise", in Oxford Studies in Metaethics, volume 3, Russ Shafer-Landau (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 87-108.

---, 2011, "Skepticism about Moral Expertise as a Puzzle for Moral Realism", Journal of Philosophy, 108(3): 111-137. doi:10.5840/jphil201110837

Mehl, Matthias R., Kathryn L. Bollich, John M. Doris, and Simine Vazire, 2015, "Character and Coherence: Testing the Stability of Naturalistically Observed Daily Moral Behavior", in Miller et al. 2015: 630-51. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190204600.003.0030

Mele, Alfred R., 2006, Free Will and Luck, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195305043.001.0001

---, 2013, "Manipulation, Moral Responsibility, and Bullet Biting", Journal of Ethics, 17(3): 167-84. doi:10.1007/s10892-013-9147-9

Merritt, Maria W., 2000, "Virtue Ethics and Stuationist Personality Psychology", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 3(4): 365-83. doi:10.1023/A:1009926720584

---, 2009, "Aristotelean Virtue and the Interpersonal Aspect of Ethical Character", Journal of Moral Philosophy, 6(1): 23-49. doi:10.1163/174552409X365919

Meritt, Maria W., John M. Doris, and Gilbert Harman, 2010, "Character", in Doris et al. 2010: 355-401.

Milgram, Stanley, 1974, Obedience to Authority, New York: Harper and Row.

Miller, Christian B., 2003, "Social Psychology and Virtue Ethics", The Journal of Ethics, 7(4): 365-92. doi:10.1023/A:1026136703565

---, 2013, Moral Character: An Empirical Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199674350.001.0001

---, 2014, Character and Moral Psychology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199674367.001.0001

Miller, Christian B., R. Michael Furr, Angela Knobel, and William Fleeson (eds.), 2015, Character: New Directions from Philosophy, Psychology, and Theology, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190204600.001.0001

Mischel, Walter, 1968, Personality and Assessment, New York: John J. Wiley and Sons.

---, 1999, "Personality Coherence and Dispositions in a Cognitive-Affective Personality System (CAPS) Approach", in Cervone and Shoda 1999: ch. 2.

Montmarquet, James, 2003, "Moral Character and Social Science Research", Philosophy, 78(03): 355-368. doi:10.1017/S0031819103000342

Moody-Adams, Michele M., 1997, Fieldwork in Familiar Places: Morality, Culture, and Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Murphy, Dominic, 2006, Psychiatry in the Scientific Image, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Murray, Dylan and Eddy Nahmias, 2014, "Explaining Away Incompatibilist Intuitions", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 88(2): 434-467. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2012.00609.x

Murray, Dylan and Tania Lombrozo, 2016, "Effects of Manipulation on Attributions of Causation, Free Will, and Moral Responsibility", Cognitive Science, 41(2): 447-481. doi: 10.1111/cogs.12338.

Nado, Jennifer, 2016, "The Intuition Deniers", Philosophical Studies, 173(3): 781-800. doi:10.1007/s11098-015-0519-9.

Nagel, Thomas, 1970, The Possibility of Altruism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1986, The View From Nowhere, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Nahmias, Eddy, 2011, "Intuitions about Free Will, Determinism, and Bypassing", in Robert Kane (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Free Will, second edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Nahmias, Eddy, Stephen G. Morris, Thomas Nadelhoffer, and Jason Turner, 2009, "Is Incompatiblism Intuitive?" Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 73(1): 28-53. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2006.tb00603.x

Nichols, Shaun and Joshua Knobe, 2007, "Moral Responsibility and Determinism: The Cognitive Science of Folk Intuitions", Noûs, 41(4): 663-685. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0068.2007.00666.x

Nisbett, Richard E., 1998, "Essence and Accident", in John M. Darley and Joel Cooper (eds.), Attribution and Social Interaction: The Legacy of Edward E. Jones, Washington: American Psychological Association.

---, 2003, The Geography of Thought: How Asians and Westerners Think Differently ... and Why, New York: Free Press.

Nisbett, Richard E. and Eugene Borgida, 1975, "Attribution and the psychology of prediction", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 32(5): 932-943. doi:10.1037/0022-3514.32.5.932

Nisbett, Richard E. and Dov Cohen, 1996, Culture of Honor: The Psychology of Violence in the South, Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

Nisbett, Richard E. and Lee Ross, 1980, Human Inference: Strategies and Shortcomings of Social Judgment, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

O'Connor, Timothy, 2000, Persons and Causes: The Metaphysics of Free Will, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/019515374X.001.0001

Olin, Lauren and John M. Doris, 2014, "Vicious Minds: Virtue Epistemology, Cognition, and Skepticism", Philosophical Studies, 168(3): 665-92. doi:10.1007/s11098-013-0153-3

Pereboom, Derk, 2001, Living Without Free Will, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511498824

---, 2014, Free Will, Agency, and Meaning in Life, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199685516.001.0001

Petrinovich, Lewis and Patricia O'Neill, 1996, "Influence of Wording and Framing Effects on Moral Intuitions", Ethology and Sociobiology, 17(3): 145-171. doi:10.1016/0162-3095(96)00041-6

Phillips, Jonathan and Alex Shaw, 2014, "Manipulating Morality: Third-Party Intentions Alter Moral Judgments by Changing Causal Reasoning", Cognitive Science, 39(6): 1320-47. doi:10.1111/cogs.12194

Pink, Thomas, 2004, Free Will: A Very Short Introduction, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/actrade/9780192853585.001.0001

Prinz, Jesse J., 2009, "The Normativity Challenge: Cultural Psychology Provides the Real Threat to Virtue Ethics", The Journal of Ethics, 13(2-3): 117-144. doi:10.1007/s10892-009-9053-3

Pust, Joel, 2000, Intuitions as Evidence, New York: Garland Publishing.

Rachels, James, 2000, "Naturalism", in LaFollette 2000: 74-91.

---, 2003, The Elements of Moral Philosophy, fourth edition, New York: McGraw-Hill.

Railton, Peter, 1986a, "Facts and Values", Philosophical Topics, 14(2): 5-31. doi:10.5840/philtopics19861421

---, 1986b, "Moral Realism", Philosophical Review, 95(2): 163-207. doi:10.2307/2185589

Rawls, John, 1951, "Outline of a Decision Procedure for Ethics", Philosophical Review, 60(2): 177-97. doi:10.2307/2181696

---, 1971, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Rosati, Connie S., 1995, "Persons, Perspectives, and Full Information Accounts of the Good", Ethics, 105(2): 296-325. doi:10.1086/293702

Rose, David and Shaun Nichols, 2013, "The Lesson of Bypassing", Review of Philosophy and Psychology, 4(4): 599-619. doi:10.1007/s13164-013-0154-3

Ross, Lee and Richard E. Nisbett, 1991, The Person and the Situation: Perspectives of Social Psychology, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Russell, Daniel C., 2009, Practical Intelligence and the Virtues, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199565795.001.0001

---, 2015, "From Personality to Character to Virtue", in Mark Alfano (ed.), Current Controversies in Virtue Theory, New York: Routledge, pp. 91-106.

Samuels, Richard and Stephen Stich, 2002, "Rationality", Encyclopedia of Cognitive Science, Chichester: Wiley. doi:10.1002/0470018860.s00171

Samuels, Steven M. and William D. Casebeer, 2005, "A social psychological view of morality: Why knowledge of situational influences on behaviour can improve character development practices", Journal of Moral Education, 34(1): 73-87. doi:10.1080/03057240500049349

Sarkissian, Hagop, 2010, "Minor Tweaks, Major Payoffs: The Problems and Promise of Situationism in Moral Philosophy", Philosophers' Imprint, 10(9). URL = <http://hdl.handle.net/2027/spo.3521354.0010.009>

Sarkissian, Hagop and Jennifer Cole Wright (eds.)., 2014, Advances in Experimental Moral Psychology, London: Bloomsbury Press.

Sayre-McCord, Geoffrey, 1988a, "Introduction: The Many Moral Realisms", in Sayre-McCord 1988b: 1-24.

--- (ed.), 1988b, Essays in Moral Realism, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press.

---, 2015, "Moral Realism", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2015 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2015/entries/moral-realism/>

Schnall, Simone, Jonathan Haidt, Gerald L. Clore, and Alexander H. Jordan, 2008a, "Disgust as Embodied Moral Judgment", Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 34(8): 1069-1109. doi:10.1177/0146167208317771

Schnall, Simone, Jennifer Benton, and Sophie Harvey, 2008b, "With a Clean Conscience: Cleanliness Reduces the Severity of Moral Judgments", Psychological Science, 19(12): 1219-1222. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9280.2008.02227.x

Schwitzgebel, Eric and Fiery Cushman, 2011, "Expertise in Moral Reasoning? Order Effects on Moral Judgment in Professional Philosophers and Non-Philosophers", Mind and Language, 27(2): 135-153. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0017.2012.01438.x.

---, 2015, "Philosophers' Biased Judgments Persist Despite Training, Expertise, and Reflection", Cognition, 141: 127-137. doi:10.1016/j.cognition.2015.04.015

Shafer-Landau, R., 2003, Moral Realism: A Defence, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0199259755.001.0001

Sherman, Ryne A., Christopher S. Nave, and David C. Funder, 2010, "Situational Similarity and Personality Predict Behavioral Consistency", Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 99(2): 330-343. doi:10.1037/a0019796

Shweder, Richard A., and Edmund J. Bourne, 1982, "Does the Concept of the Person Vary Cross-Culturally?" in Anthony J. Marsella and Geoffrey M. White (eds.), Cultural Conceptions of Mental Health and Therapy, Boston, MA: D. Reidel Publishing.

Singer, Peter, 1974, "Sidgwick and Reflective Equilibrium", Monist, 58(3): 490-517. doi:10.5840/monist197458330

Sinnott-Armstrong, Walter P., 2005, "Moral Intuitionism Meets Empirical Psychology", in Terry Horgan and Mark Timmons (eds.), Metaethics After Moore, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199269914.003.0016

--- (ed.), 2008a, Moral Psychology, Vol. 1, The Evolution of Morality: Adaptations and Innateness, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

--- (ed.), 2008b, Moral Psychology, Vol. 2, The Cognitive Science of Morality: Intuition and Diversity, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

--- (ed.), 2008c, Moral Psychology, Vol.3, The Neuroscience of Morality: Emotion, Brain Disorders, and Development, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

--- (ed.), 2014, Moral Psychology, Vol.4, Free Will and Moral Responsibility, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Slote, Michael Anthony, 2013, "Egoism and Emotion", Philosophia, 41(2): 313-335. doi:10.1007/s11406-013-9434-5

Smilansky, Saul, 2003, "Compatibilism: the Argument from Shallowness", Philosophical Studies, 115(3): 257-282. doi:10.1023/A:1025146022431

Smith, Adam, 1759 [1853], The Theory of Moral Sentiments, London: Henry G. Bohn. Originally published 1759,

Smith, Michael, 1994, The Moral Problem, Cambridge: Basil Blackwell.

Snare, F.E., 1980, "The Diversity of Morals" Mind, 89(355): 353-369. doi:10.1093/mind/LXXXIX.355.353

Snow, Nancy E., 2010, Virtue as Social Intelligence: An Empirically Grounded Theory, London and New York: Routledge.

Sober, Elliott and David Sloan Wilson, 1998, Unto Others: The Evolution and Psychology of Unselfish Behavior, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Solomon, Robert C., 2003, "Victims of Circumstances? A Defense of Virtue Ethics in Business", Business Ethics Quarterly, 13(1): 43-62. doi:10.5840/beq20031314

---, 2005, "'What's Character Got to Do with It?'", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 71(3): 648-655. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2005.tb00478.x

Sosa, Ernest, 2007, "Intuitions: Their Nature and Epistemic Efficacy", Grazer Philosophische Studien, 74(1): 51-67. doi:10.1163/9789401204651_004

---, 2009, "Situations Against Virtues: The Situationist Attack on Virtue Theory", in Chrysostomos Mantzavinos (ed.), Philosophy of the Social Sciences: Philosophical Theory and Scientific Practice, New York: Cambridge University Press. 274-290. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511812880.021

Sreenivasan, Gopal, 2002, "Errors about errors: Virtue theory and trait attribution", Mind, 111(441): 47-68. doi:10.1093/mind/111.441.47

Sripada, Chandra Sekhar, 2012, "What Makes a Manipulated Agent Unfree?" Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 85(3): 563-93. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2011.00527.x

Stich, Stephen, 1990, The Fragmentation of Reason: Preface to a Pragmatic Theory of Cognitive Evaluation, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

Stich, Stephen, John M. Doris, and Erica Roedder, 2010, "Altruism", in Doris et al. 2010: 147-205.

Stich, Stephen and Kevin P. Tobia, 2016, "Experimental Philosophy and the Philosophical Tradition", in Sytsma and Buckwalter 2016: 3-21. doi:10.1002/9781118661666.ch1

---, 2018, "Intuition and Its Critics", in Stuart, Fehige, and Brown 2018: ch. 21.

Stichter, Matt, 2007, "Ethical Expertise: The Skill Model of Virtue", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 10(2): 183-194. doi:10.1007/s10677-006-9054-2

---, 2011, "Virtues, Skills, and Right Action", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 14(1): 73-86. doi:10.1007/s10677-010-9226-y

Strawson, P.F., 1982, "Freedom and Resentment", in Gary Watson (ed.), Free Will, New York: Oxford University Press. Originally published, 1962,

Strawson, Galen, 1986, Freedom and Belief, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199247493.001.0001

Strohminger, Nina, Richard L. Lewis and David E. Meyer, 2011, "Divergent Effects of Different Positive Emotions on Moral Judgment", Cognition, 119(2): 295-300. doi:10.1016/j.cognition.2010.12.012

Stuart, Michael T., Yiftach Fehige, and James Robert Brown (eds.), 2018, The Routledge Companion to Thought Experiments, New York: Routledge.

Sturgeon, Nicholas L., 1988, "Moral Explanations", in Sayre-McCord 1988b: 229-255.

Sumner, William Graham, 1908 [1934], Folkways, Boston: Ginn and Company.

Sunstein, Cass R., 2005, "Moral Heuristics", Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 28(4): 531-42. doi:10.1017/S0140525X05000099

Swanton, Christine, 2003, Virtue Ethics: A Pluralistic View, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199253889.001.0001

Sytsma, Justin and Wesley Buckwalter (eds.), 2016, A Companion to Experimental Philosophy, Oxford: Blackwell.

Tetlock, Philip E., 1999, "Review of Culture of Honor: The Psychology of Violence in the South by Robert Nisbett and Dov Cohen",Political Psychology, 20(1): 211-13. doi:10.1111/0162-895X.t01-1-00142

Tiberius, Valerie, 2015, Moral Psychology: A Contemporary Introduction, New York: Routledge.

Tobia, Kevin Patrick, Gretchen B. Chapman, and Stephen Stich, 2013, "Cleanliness is Next to Morality, Even for Philosophers", Journal of Consciousness Studies, 20(11 and 12): 195-204.

Tversky, Amos and Daniel Kahneman, 1973, "Availability: A heuristic for judging frequency and probability", Cognitive Psychology, 5(2): 207-232. doi:10.1016/0010-0285(73)90033-9

---, 1981, "The Framing of Decisions and the Psychology of Choice", Science, 211(4481): 453-463. doi:10.1126/science.7455683

Upton, Candace L., 2009, Situational Traits of Character: Dispositional Foundations and Implications for Moral Psychology and Friendship, Lanham, Maryland: Lexington Books.

Vargas, Manuel, 2005a, "The Revisionist's Guide to Responsibility", Philosophical Studies, 125(3): 399-429. doi:10.1007/s11098-005-7783-z

---, 2005b, "Responsibility and the Aims of Theory: Strawson and Revisionism", Pacific Philosophical Quarterly, 85(2): 218-241. doi:10.1111/j.0279-0750.2004.00195.x

Valdesolo, Piercarlo and David DeSteno, 2006, "Manipulations of Emotional Context Shape Moral Judgment", Psychological Science, 17(6): 476-477. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9280.2006.01731.x

Velleman, J. David, 1992, "What Happens When Someone Acts?" Mind, 101(403): 461-81. doi:10.1093/mind/101.403.461

Voyer, Benjamin G. and Tor Tarantola (eds.), forthcoming, Moral Psychology: A Multidisciplinary Guide, Springer.

Vranas, Peter B.M., 2005, "The Indeterminacy Paradox: Character Evaluations and Human Psychology", Noûs, 39(1): 1-42.

Watson, Gary, 1996, "Two Faces of Responsibility", Philosophical Topics 24(2): 227-48. doi: 10.5840/philtopics199624222

Webber, Jonathan, 2006a, "Character, Consistency, and Classification", Mind, 115(459): 651-658. doi:10.1093/mind/fzl651

---, 2006b, "Virtue, Character and Situation", Journal of Moral Philosophy, 3(2): 193-213. doi:10.1177/1740468106065492

---, 2007a, "Character, Common-Sense, and Expertise", Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 10(1): 89-104. doi:10.1007/s10677-006-9041-7

---, 2007b, "Character, Global and Local", Utilitas, 19(04): 430-434. doi:10.1017/S0953820807002725

Westermarck, Edvard, 1906, Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, 2 volumes, New York: MacMillian.

Wiegmann, Alex, Yasmina Okan, and Jonas Nagel, 2012, "Order Effects in Moral Judgment", Philosophical Psychology, 25(6): 813-836. doi:10.1080/09515089.2011.631995

Williams, Bernard, 1973, "A Critique of Utilitarianism", in Utilitarianism: For and Against, by J.J.C. Smart and Bernard Williams, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1985, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Woolfolk, Robert L., John M. Doris and John M. Darley, 2006, "Identification, Situational Constraint, and Social Cognition: Studies in the Attribution of Moral Responsibility", Cognition, 100(2), 283-301. doi:10.1016/j.cognition.2005.05.002

Zhong, Chen-Bo, Brendan Strejcek, and Niro Sivanathan, 2010, "A Clean Self Can Render Harsh Moral Judgment", Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 46(5): 859-862. doi:10.1016/j.jesp.2010.04.003

Zimbardo, Philip G., 2007, The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Moral psychology investigates human functioning in moral contexts, and asks how these results may impact debate in ethical theory. This work is necessarily interdisciplinary, drawing on both the empirical resources of the human sciences and the conceptual resources of philosophical ethics. The present article discusses several topics that illustrate this type of inquiry: thought experiments, responsibility, character, egoism v.

# data[].attributes.headline
5.1 Introduction: What is Political Philosophy?

# data[].attributes.subject
5.1 Introduction: What is Political Philosophy?

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses the nature and scope of "political philosophy," with an in-depth examination of the fundamental concepts and categories of the study of politics. The questions "which regimes are best?" and "what constitutes good citizenship?" are posed and discussed in the context of Plato's "Apology."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
1.  Introduction: What is Political Philosophy?

# data[].attributes.body
This paper introduces political philosophy in a problem-solution format, with an overview of dominant political philosophy theories.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Leo Strauss, What is Political Philosophy?, The Journal of Politics, Vol. 19, No. 3 (Aug., 1957), pp. 343-368

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the field of political philosophy, focusing on its methodology, the ethical foundations underlying political theories, and the distinctions between political philosophy and political science.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Political philosophy begins with the question: what ought to be a person's relationship to society? The subject seeks the application of ethical concepts to the social sphere and thus deals with the variety of forms of government and social existence that people could live in - and in so doing, it also provides a standard by which to analyze and judge existing institutions and relationships.

Although the two are intimately linked by a range of philosophical issues and methods, political philosophy can be distinguished from political science. Political science predominantly deals with existing states of affairs, and insofar as it is possible to be amoral in its descriptions, it seeks a positive analysis of social affairs - for example, constitutional issues, voting behavior, the balance of power, the effect of judicial review, and so forth. Political philosophy generates visions of the good social life: of what ought to be the ruling set of values and institutions that combine men and women together. The subject matter is broad and connects readily with various branches and sub-disciplines of philosophy including philosophy of law and of economics. This introduction skims the most relevant theories that the student of political philosophy is likely to encounter. The article covers Liberalism, Conservativism, Socialism, Anarchism, and Environmentalism.

Table of Contents

1. Ethical Foundations

Political philosophy has its beginnings in ethics: in questions such as what kind of life is the good life for human beings. Since people are by nature sociable - there being few proper anchorites who turn from society to live alone - the question follows as to what kind of life is proper for a person amongst people. The philosophical discourses concerning politics thus develop, broaden and flow from their ethical underpinnings.

To take a few examples: the ethical utilitarian claims that the good is characterized by seeking (that is, attempting to bring about) the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest number of people (see consequentialism). Accordingly, in the political realm, the utilitarian will support the erection of those institutions whose purpose is to secure the greatest happiness for the greatest number. In contrast, an ethical deontologist, who claims that the highest good is served by our application of duties (to the right or to others), will acknowledge the justification of those institutions that best serve the employment of duties. This is a recognizable stance that merges with human rights theorists' emphasis on the role of rights (to or from actions and/or things). In turn an ethical relativist will advocate a plurality of institutions (within a nation or around the world), whereas an ethical objectivist will condemn those that are seen to be lacking a universally morally proper purpose (for example, those that support certain inalienable rights).

As ethics is also underpinned by metaphysical and epistemological theories, so too can political philosophy be related to such underlying theories: theorizing on the nature of reality and of how we know things logically relates to how we do things and how we interact with others. The greatest and most persistent ethical-political issue that divides philosophers into a host of schools of thought is that concerning the status of the individual: the ethical 'person'. Although the variety and subtleties of this area of thought cannot be examined here, suffice it to say that philosophers divide between those who deem the individual person as sacrosanct (that is, ethically and thus politically so) and those who consider the individual to be a member of a group (and accordingly for whom the group takes on a sacred status). Others consider political institutions to be sacred in their own right but this is hardly a tenable position: if humanity did not exist such institutions would be meaningless and hence can only gain their meaning from our existence. The key question that divides political philosophers returns to whether it is the group or the individual that should be the political unit of analysis.

The language used by the opposing thinkers to describe the political primacy of their entity (that is, individual or group) alters throughout history depending on other competing or complementing concepts; but today the division is best characterized by the "rights of the individual" versus the "rights of the group." Other appropriate terms include: the dignity of the individual; the duties and obligations owing to the group; the autonomy or self-determination of the group or individual - and these in turn resolve into particular and applied issues concerning the role of cultural, racial, religious, and sexual orientations. In political theory courses, the debate proceeds today between communitarians and liberals who debate the middle ground of rights and obligations as they stretch between groups and individuals.

This caricature of extremes enables us to consider the differences and the points of agreement between the several schools of political philosophy in a better light. But as with generalizations made of historical events, the details are much more complicated and subtle. This is because the application of philosophy in the political realm necessarily deals with social institutions, and since people are sociable - indeed could hardly be said to be human if we possessed no society or culture - both extremes must examine and evaluate the social-ethical realms of selfhood, friendship, family, property, exchange, money (that is, indirect exchange), community, tribe, race, association, and the state (and its various branches) - and accordingly the individual's relationship with each.

2. Methodological Issues

In pursuing a philosophical examination of political activity, philosophers also divide between those who are methodological individualists and those who are methodological holists. Methodological individualists seek to explain social actions and behavior in terms of individual action - and politically are known as individualists, whereas holists seek to explain behavior by considering the nature of the group. The bifurcation results from a metaphysical division on the appropriate unit of study. In contrast to methodological individualists, who claim that a society (or culture, people, nation) is no more than the sum of its living members, holists argue that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, which in the political realm is translated into the state being greater than the citizenry, or the race, folk, or people being greater than the individual; politically, holism translates into the general theory known as "collectivism," and all collectivist theories deny or lessen the value and authority of the individual in relation to the higher status accorded a collective entity. Methodological individualism translates into political individualism, in which the individual's cultural or group membership is either rejected completely as not worthy of study or its causal or scientific relationship is deemed too amorphous or pluralistic and changing to provide anything by qualitative assessments of social affairs.

Simmering in the background, it must also be noted, are theological-political philosophies that deny any primacy to the individual or to the group in favor of the supreme status of the divine realm. Yet these too must also split between individualist and holist conceptions of the individual (or of the soul) and for our purposes here can be said to follow the same dialogue as secular oriented political philosophers. Once theologians admit to having to have some kind of government or rule for the living on earth, the general debate of political philosophy can be admitted and expounded upon to define the good life for people amongst people.

A second important methodological issue that relates both to epistemology as well as to ethics is the role that reason plays in social affairs. The extreme positions may be characterized as rationalism and irrationalism, but the descriptions are not necessarily logical opposites. A rationalist may declare his belief in rationalism to be ultimately irrational (for example, Karl Popper), and an irrationalist may act rationally.

Political rationalism emphasizes the employment of reason in social affairs: that is, individuals ought to submit to the logic and universality of reason rather than their own subjective or cultural preconceptions. Rationalists argue that reason unifies humanity politically and hence is a conducive vehicle to peace. Irrationalists, on the other hand, downplay the efficacy of reason in our human affairs or more particularly in our social affairs. In turn, a broad range of alternatives are put forward in reason's stead: emotions; cultural, religious, or class expectations; atavistic symbols; or mystical forms of intuition or knowledge. Irrationalists of all hues can also criticize rationalists for ignoring the subtle wisdom of intellectual and social heritage that often lies beneath contemporary society or which is deemed necessary for the reasoning mind; politically, they consider the demands of reason to be rationalizations of a particular culture (usually the criticism is leveled against the West) rather than demands that are universal or universalizable claiming that political solutions that appear rational to one group cannot necessarily be translated as solutions for another group.

Some irrationalists uphold polylogism - the theory that there are (or ought to be) more than one form of logic, which ultimately collapses into an epistemological subjectivism. That is, tribal logic is predicated on the separateness or distinctiveness of particular groups' logic or methods of discourse and thinking. However, other irrationalists deny that the human mind develops alternative logics around the world, but that human action does develop alternative methods of living in different places and from different historical circumstances. Politically this stance translates into conservativism, a philosophical stance that is skeptical of rationalist designs (say to overthrow all political institutions so as to begin 'afresh' according to some utopian blueprint) and which emphasizes the continuity of wisdom - as contained in institutions and the language of politics - over the generations and in specific localities.

To return to the epistemological problems facing holism, the existence of overlapping loyalties that often characterize groups presents a strong criticism against collectivist doctrines: which group ought to be the subject of analysis when an individual belongs to more than one sociological entity? (Marx, for instance, based his philosophy on class analysis but did not give any precision to the term 'class'.) If an epistemological relativism is permitted, say in the field of logic ("European logic is different from American"), further analysis must permit more particular gradations ("German logic is different from French logic" and "Bavarian logic is different from Schleswig-Holstein logic") until one reaches the final thinking agent - the individual ("Franz's logic is different from Katja's"). The rationalist aspires to avoid such fractional implications of polylogism by maintaining the unity of human logic. Yet, if the rationalist is also an individualist, the paradox arises that individuals are united into the collective whole of rational beings (all individuals share reason), whereas irrationalism collapses into a plurality of individualistic epistemologies (all groups are ultimately composed of subjectivists).

Nonetheless, between individualists (who emphasize the sacred status of the individual) and collectivists (who emphasize the sacred status of the group) exist a panoply of schools of thought that derive their impetus from the philosophical shades - the gray overlapping areas, which are today found in the perpetual disputes between individualists and communitarians.

3. Political Schools of Thought

Having illuminated some of the extremes that characterize political philosophy with regards to method and terminology, the major schools of thought can be introduced. What will be noted is not just to which end of the methodological spectrum the school leans, but also its implied connections to ethics. Similarly, other aspects need to be elucidated: does the school emphasize the primacy of reason in social affairs, or does it underplay the role of reason in political affairs in favor of the forces of history, heritage, emotional or tribal predispositions?

a. Liberalism

The term "liberalism" conveys two distinct positions in political philosophy, the one a pro-individualist theory of people and government, the second a pro-statist or what is better termed a "social democratic" conception. Students of political philosophy ought to be aware of the two schools of thought that reside under the same banner to avoid philosophical confusions that can be resolved by a clarification of terms. The "Great Switch," as cultural historian Jacques Barzun notes, took place in the late Nineteenth Century, a switch which was the product of shifting the political ground towards socialist or social democratic policies under the banner of liberal parties and politics.

Etymologically, the former is the sounder description since liberalism is derived from the word "liberty," that is, freedom and toleration rather than notions of justice and intervention that took on board in the Twentieth Century. Yet, the pro-statist connotation pervades modern thinking so much so that it is difficult to separate its notions from the previous meanings without re-classifying one or the other. The former is often referred to as 'classical liberalism' leaving the latter unchanged or adapted to "social democratic liberalism," which is a rather confusing mouthful; "modern liberalism" is an easier term to wield and shall be used unless the emphasis is laid upon the socialist leanings of such modern liberals.

In the broadest, presently popularly accepted term the modern liberal accepts rights against the person and rights to entitlements such as health care and education. The two positions do not sit well philosophically however, for they produce a host of potential and recurrent inconsistencies and contradictions that can only be resolved by stretching the definition of freedom to include the freedom to succeed (or freedom to resources) rather than the freedom to try. This sometimes generates difficult and perhaps insurmountable problems for those who seek to merge the classical and modern doctrines; nonetheless, the (modern) liberal project is actively pursued by modern thinkers such as J.S. Mill, John Rawls, Will Kymlicka, Ronald Dworkin and others. For these writers, the historical emphasis on toleration, plurality and justice underscore their work; they differ on their interpretation of toleration, public and private roles, and the perceived need for opportunities to be created or not. Some modern liberals, however, do try to remove themselves from classical liberalism (for example, Kymlicka) and therefore become more like 'social democrats', that is, humanitarians of a socialist bent who assert the primacy of minorities and even individuals to partake freely in the democratic processes and political dialogues, or whose emphasis on equality demands an active and interventionist state that classical liberals would reject.

Dworkin, for example, claims justice is the essential motif of liberalism and that the state's duty is to ensure a just and fair opportunity for all to compete and flourish in a civil society. That may require active state intervention in some areas - areas that classical liberals would reject as being inadmissible in a free economy. Dworkin's position emanates from Aristotle 's ethical argument that for a person to pursue the good life he requires a certain standard of living. Poverty is not conducive to pursuing the contemplative life, hence many modern liberals are attracted to redistributive or welfare policies. Such fairness in opportunity to create equal opportunities underpins John Stuart Mill's liberalism for example. However, the modern liberal's emphasis on equality is criticized by classical liberals who argue that people are neither born equal nor can be made equal: talents (and motivation) are distributed unequally across a population, which means that attempts to reduce men and women to the same status will imply a reduction in the ability (or freedom) of the more talented to act and to strive for their own progression. Similarly, the modern liberal's criticism of inherited wealth is chastised as being misplaced: although the policy connects well to the desire to ensure an equal start for all, not all parents' gifts to their children are monetary in nature. Indeed, some, following Andrew Carnegie's self-help philosophy, may contend that monetary inheritances can be counter-productive, fostering habits of dependency.

Both modern and classical liberals may refer to the theory of a social contract to justify either their emphasis on the free realm of the individual or the fostering of those conditions liberals in general deem necessary for human flourishing. Classical liberals derive their theory of the social contract initially from Thomas Hobbes's model (in Leviathan) in which individuals in a state of nature would come together to form a society. Liberals of both variations have never believed such a contract ever took place, but use the model to assess the present status of society according to criteria they believe the contract should include. Hobbes leaned towards a more authoritarian version of the contract in which individuals give up all political rights (except that of self-preservation which he sees as a natural, inalienable right) to the sovereign political body whose primary duty is to ensure the peace; John Locke leaned towards a more limited government (but one that could justly take the alienable life of an aggressor); Rousseau sought a thoroughly democratic vision of the social contract; and more recently Rawls has entertained what rights and entitlements a social contract committee would allot themselves if they had no knowledge and hence prejudices of each other.

Both classical and modern liberals agree that the government has a strict duty towards impartiality and hence to treating people equally, and that it should also be neutral in its evaluation of what the good life is. This neutrality is criticized by non-liberals who claim that the assumed neutrality is in fact a reflection of a specific vision of human nature or progress, and although critics disagree what that vision may entail, their claim prompts liberals to justify the underlying assumption that promotes them to accept such issues as: equal treatment by the law and by the state; liberty to pursue one's life as one sees fit; the right to private property, and so on.

Nonetheless, broad liberalism accepts and emphasizes that people ought to be tolerant towards their fellow men and women. The modern importance of toleration stems from the Renaissance and post-Reformation reactions to the division in the Church and the ensuing persecutions against heterodoxy. Freedom in religious belief extends to other realms of human activity that do not negatively affect neighbors, for example in sexual or romantic activities, the consumption of narcotics, and the perusal of pornography. But what is philosophically more important is that the liberal doctrine of toleration permits the acceptance of errors - that in pursuing the ethical good life and hence the appropriate political life, people may make mistakes and should be permitted to learn and adapt as they see fit; or, alternatively, that people have a right to live in ignorance or to pursue knowledge as they think best. This is held in common with political conservatives who are somewhat more pessimistic and skeptical of our abilities than most liberals. Classical and modern liberals do unite in expressing a skepticism towards experts knowing what is in the best interest of others, and thus liberals tend to reject any interference in people's lives as unjustifiable and, from utilitarian point of view, counter-productive. Life, for the liberal, should be led from the inside (self-oriented) rather than outside (other- imposed); but modern liberals add that individuals ought to be provided with the resources to ensure that they can live the good life as they see fit. The classical liberal retort is who will provide those resources and to what age should people be deemed incapable of learning or striving by themselves?

Despite such differences over policy, liberals - of both the social democratic and classical strain - predominantly hold an optimistic view of human nature. In modern philosophy the position is derived from Locke's psychological theory from An Essay on Human Understanding that people are born without innate ideas and hence his environment, upbringing, and experiences fashion him: for classical liberals this implies a thorough rejection of inherited elitism and hence of supposed natural political hierarchies in which power resided with dynasties; for modern liberals this implies the potential for forging appropriate conditions for any individual to gain a proper education and opportunities.

Liberals applaud those institutions that reason sustains as being conducive to human freedoms: classical liberals emphasizing those institutions that protect the negative freedoms (rights against aggression and theft) and social democratic liberals the positive freedoms (rights to a certain standard of living). If an institution is lacking according to a critical and rational analysis - failing in its duty to uphold a certain liberal value - then it is to be reorganized for the empowerment of humanity. At this juncture, liberals also divide between deontological (Rawls) and utilitarian theorists (Mill). Most classical liberals ascribe to a general form of utilitarianism in which social institutions are to be reorganized along lines of benefiting the greatest number. This attracts criticism from conservatives and deontologists - according to what ends? - according to whose analysis? - comprising which people? and so on. Deontologists are not precluded from supporting liberalism ( Immanuel Kant is the most influential thinker in that regard), for they hold that the proper society and hence political institutions should generate those rules and institutions that are right in themselves, regardless of the particular presumed ends we are seeking (for example, happiness).

Modern liberals lean towards a more interventionist government, and as such they place more emphasis on the ability of the state to produce the right political sphere for humanity and thusly emphasize reform projects more than classical liberals or conservatives. Peace, to choose one example, could be brought to warring peoples or natives if only they admit to the clearly defined and rational proposals of the liberal creed - that is, they should release themselves from parochial prejudices and superstitions and submit to the cosmopolitanism of liberal toleration and peace. The variants here - as in the host of applied subjects - are broad ranging: some liberals espouse the need to secure peace through the provision of a healthy standard of living (effected by appropriate redistribution policies from rich countries to poor); others promote the free market as a necessary condition for the growth of the so-called "soft morals" of commerce; while others emphasize the need for dialogue and mutual understanding through multi-cultural educational programs. These kind of programs, the modern liberals argue, ideally should be implemented by the world community through international bodies such as the UN rather than unilaterally which could arouse complaints against imperialist motives; however, once the beneficial classical or modern liberal framework is created, the state and political institutions ought to remain ethically neutral and impartial: the state is to be separated from imposing itself on or subsidizing any belief system, cultural rites, forms of behavior or consumption (so long as they do not interfere in the lives of others).

The liberal seeks the best form of government which will permit the individual to pursue life as he or she sees fit within a neutral framework, and it is the possibility of a neutral framework that critics challenge the liberal ideal.

b. Conservatism

This approach plays down the unifying or omniscient implications of liberalism and its unifying rationalism and thus accords institutions or modes of behavior that have weathered the centuries a greater respect than liberals. Politically, philosophical conservatives are cautious in tampering with forms of political behavior and institutions and they are especially skeptical of whole scale reforms; they err on the side of tradition, but not for tradition's sake, but from a skeptical view of our human ability to redesign whole ranges of social values that have evolved over and adapted to many generations; detrimental values will, conservatives reason, fall into disuses of their own accord.

The first issue facing the conservative is: what ought to be secured (against, say, a popular but misguided temporary rebellion)? How long does an institution have to exist before it gains the respect of the philosophical conservative? Here, the philosopher must refer to a deeper level of analysis and proceed to question the nature and purpose of the institution in light of some standard. Liberalism turns to reason, which is broadly accepted as the unifying element to human societies, but conservatives believe that reason can be highly overestimated for it belongs to single individuals and hence to their own political motives, errors, prejudices and so on.

Conservatives typically possess a pessimistic vision of human nature, drawing on the modern tradition, on Hobbes's belief, that were it not for strong institutions, men would be at each others' throats and would constantly view one another with deep suspicion. (Their emphasis is thus not on the ensuing hypothetical pacifying social contract but on the prevalence of fear in human society). Conservatives are highly skeptical of power and man's desire to use it, for they believe that in time it corrupts even the most freedom loving wielders: hence, the potential accession to any position of supreme power over others, whether in the guise of a national or international chamber, is to be rejected as being just as dangerous a state as Hobbes's vision of the anarchic state of nature. Conservatives thus applaud those institutions that check the propensity for the stronger or the megalomaniacal to command power: conservatives magnify the suspicion one may hold of one's neighbor. Critics - for example, of an anarchist or socialist strain - claim that such fears are a product of the presiding social environment and its concomitant values and are not the product of human nature or social intercourse per se. Such opponents emphasize the need to reform society to release people from a life of fear, which conservatives in turn consider a utopian pipe dream unbefitting a realistic political philosophy.

For conservatives, the value of institutions cannot always be examined according to the rational analysis of the present generation. This imposes a demand on conservatism to explain or justify the rationale of supporting historical institutions. Previously, conservatives implicitly or explicitly reverted to the myths of our human or of a particular culture's origins to give present institutions a sacred status - or at least a status worthy of respect; however, evolutionary thinkers from the Scottish Enlightenment (for example, Adam Ferguson), whose insights noted the trial and error nature of cultural (and hence moral and institutional) developments generated a more precise and historically ratifiable examination of institutions and morals - see the work of Friedrich Hayek especially.

Accordingly, in contrast to many liberals, conservatives decry the notion of a social contract - or even its possibility in a modern context. Since societies evolve and develop through time, present generations possess duties and responsibilities whose origins and original reasons may now be lost to us, but which, for some thinkers, still require our acceptance. Justifying this is problematic for the conservative: present cultural xenophobia may emanate from past aggressions against the nation's territory and may not serve any present purpose in a more commercial atmosphere; or present racism may emerge from centuries of fearful mythologies or again violent incursions that no longer are appropriate. But conservatives reply that since institutions and morals evolve, their weaknesses and defects will become apparent and thereby will gradually be reformed (or merely dropped) as public pressure against them changes. What the conservative opposes is the potential absolutist position of either the liberal or the socialist who considers a form of behavior or an institution to be valid and hence politically binding for all time.

Conservatives thus do not reject reform but are thoroughly skeptical of any present generation's or present person's ability to understand and hence to reshape the vast edifices of behavior and institutions that have evolved with the wisdom of thousands of generations. They are thus skeptical of large scale planning, whether it be constitutional or economical or cultural. Against socialists who become impatient with present defects, the conservatives counsel patience: not for its own sake, but because the vast panoply of institutions that are rallied against - including human nature - cannot be reformed without the most detrimental effects. Conservatives - following Edmund Burke - thus typically condemn revolutions and coups as leading to more bloodshed and violence than that which the old regime produced.

Some conservatives argue that a modicum of redistribution is required to ensure a peaceful non-revolutionary society. Whereas modern liberals justify redistribution on the grounds of providing an initial basis for human development, conservatives possess a pragmatic fear of impoverished masses rising up to overthrow the status quo and its hierarchy stems from the conservative reaction to the French Revolution. The conservative critique by Edmund Burke was particularly accurate and prescient, yet the Revolution also served to remind the political hierarchy of its obligations ( noblesse oblige) to the potentially violent masses that the revolt had stirred up. The lesson has not been lost on modern conservative thinkers who claim that the state has certain obligations to the poor - including perhaps the provision of education and health facilities, or at least the means to secure them. In contrast to socialists though (with whom some conservatives may agree with a socialized system of poor relief), conservatives generally prefer to emphasize local and delegated redistribution schemes (perhaps even of a wholly voluntary nature) rather than central, state directed schemes.

In affinity with classical liberals, conservatives often emphasize the vital importance of property rights in social relations. Liberals tend to lean towards the utilitarian benefits that accrue from property rights (for example, a better distribution of resources than common ownership or a method of providing incentives for further innovation and production), whereas conservatives stress the role private property in terms of its ability to check the power of the state or any other individual who seeks power. Conservatives see private property as a sacred, intrinsically valuable cornerstone to a free and prosperous society.

The broad distribution of private property rights complements the conservative principle that individuals and local communities are better assessors of their own needs and problems than distant bureaucrats. Since conservatives are inherently skeptical of the state, they prefer alternative social associations to support, direct, and assist the maturation of civilized human beings, for example, the family, private property, religion, as well as the individual's freedom to make his own mistakes.

Conservatives of the English Whig tradition (Locke, Shaftesbury) have much in common with classical liberals, whereas conservatives of the English Tory tradition have more in common with modern liberals, agreeing to some extent with the need for state intervention but on pragmatic rather than necessary grounds. Those of the Whig tradition accordingly ally themselves more with individualism and rationalism than Tory conservatives, who emphasize community and 'one-nation' politics and its corresponding duties and responsibilities for the individual. The two, initially opposing doctrines, merged politically in the late Nineteenth Century as liberalism shifted its ground to incorporate socialist policies: the two sides of conservativism enjoyed a particularly visible and vocal clash in the late Twentieth Century in the political reign of Margaret Thatcher in the United Kingdom.

c. Socialism

The term "socialist" describes a broad range of ideas and proposals that are held together by a central overarching tenet: the central ownership and control of the means of production - either because central ownership is deemed more efficient and/or more moral. Secondly, socialists agree that capitalism (free-market conservativism or liberalism) is morally and hence politically flawed. Thirdly, some socialists of the Marxist persuasion argue that socialism is the final historical era that supplants capitalism before proper communism emerges (that is, a "historicist" conception). This section will focus on the first two claims.

i. Central Ownership

Politically, socialists claim that the free market system (capitalism) should be replaced or reformed, with most arguing for a radical redistribution of resources (usually to "workers" - that is, those socialists deem who do not presently own anything) and for the state or some form of democratic institution to take over the running of the economy. In the aftermath of Communism's collapse - which is a point of conjecture amongst the historicist Marxist wing as to whether the Soviet system was truly communist or socialist - many socialists abandoned state ownership and control of economic resources in favor of alternative projects that proposed to be more flexible, democratic and decentralized. Economists of the Austrian school (notably Ludwig Mises and Friedrich Hayek) had long predicted the inexorable collapse of socialism because of its inability in the absence of market generated price mechanisms to plan resource distribution and consumption efficiently or effectively. Socialist economists such as Oskar Lange accepted the important critique and challenge but pushed on with state controlled policies in the belief that theoretically the markets' prioritization of values through prices could by replaced by complex economic modeling: for example, Leontieff input-output models in which priorities are given values by either the central authorities, or in more modern turns with the socialist movement, by more decentralized institutions such as worker co-operatives.

Despite the empirical challenge of the collapse of the Soviet system - and more importantly the failure of centrally controlled economies throughout the West and the Third World, socialists have rallied to parade alternative conceptions of the communal ownership and control of resources. Market socialism, for instance, tolerates a predominantly market system but demands that certain 'essential' resources be controlled by the state. These may then act to direct the general economy along politically desirable roads: for example, expanding technology companies, educational and health services, or the economic and physical infrastructure of the nation. Others argue that while markets should predominate, the state should control only the investment industry. However, the economists' critique that state intervention produces not only an inefficient outcome but also an outcome that the planners themselves do not desire is extendable to all instances of intervention - and especially any interventions in investment, where the complexity of the price mechanism deals not just with consumers' and producers' present preferences but also their more subtle intertemporal preferences for present and future consumption.

In the face of a growing indictment (and unpopularity) of central planning, many socialists have preferred instead to concentrate on altering the presiding property relationships demanding that companies be given over to the workers rather the assumed exploitative capitalist classes. Resources, most socialists claim, need to be radically redistributed.

Worker control socialism (worker control capitalism) sees the way forward through worker owned and operated businesses, usually small-scale and run on a democratic basis. Legislative proposals that demand more discussion and agreement between management and staff are a reflection of such beliefs. However, the policy to give control to the workers presumes (a) the workers are a definable class deserving of a greater moral and hence political status than presently they are assumed to enjoy (which ethically would have to be established) and (b) that the workers are permanently in a condition of being either employed or exploited (perhaps by the same commercial concerns) and that they themselves do not wish to or actually do set up their own businesses or move between employees. An individual can at the same time be an employer, an employee, a worker and a capitalist and since individuals can move between the economic classes scientific precision is reduced and even abandoned.

The strongest critique of socialist plans for the redistribution of income - coming from within and without the camp's discussions - is on what moral or political criteria resources ought to be distributed. The pervading clarion call of Marx that resources ought to be distributed from each according to his ability to each according to his need does not offer any guide as to what should constitute a need. Social democrats may point to the disabled as deserving resources they are not in a position - through no fault of their own - to attain; but psychological disorders can be just as debilitating. Others generate more complex arguments. For example, the deserving are those who have historically been persecuted. But this raises the problem of how far back in history one ought to proceed as well as a host of ethical ramifications of being born either guilty (and somehow deserving moral and economic reprobation) or needy (and somehow deserving unearned resources - which certainly presents a paradox for most socialists, who in Nineteenth Century Europe castigated the aristocratic classes for their unearned incomes).

The gravest criticism leveled against all arguments for a redistribution of resources, even assuming that the criteria could be agreed upon, is that, in the absence of perpetual and strict controls resources will eventually become unevenly distributed; Robert Nozick presents a strong challenge to socialists in his Anarchy, State, and Utopia, asking what would be wrong with a voluntary redistribution in favor of say, supporting an excellent basketball player, which would result in an uneven distribution. Socialists may thus either have to accept the persistence of continual redistribution of incomes and resources within a given band of tolerance, or to accept a permanent inequality of income and resource ownership once voluntary exchanges are allowed. Faced with such criticisms, socialists can resort to arguments against the morality of capitalism or the free market.

ii. The Moral Critique of Capitalism

The initial unequal distribution of talent, energy, skills, and resources is not something that socialists usually focus their moral critique upon. Rather they comment on the historical developments that led to an unequal distribution of wealth in favor of some individuals or nations. War and exploitation by the powerful, they argue, unfurled an immoral distribution, which reformers would prefer to correct so as to build society on a more moral basis: not all would claim that socialism then becomes necessary (or that socialism provides the only evaluation of historical injustices); but socialists often refer to the historical injustices that have kept the down trodden and meek poor and oppressed as a justification for present reforms or critique of the status quo. Proposals are wide-ranging on how a society should redistribute resources as are the proposals to ensure present and future generations are permitted at least equal access to a specified standard of living or opportunities - here moderates overlap with left wing or social democratic liberals and pragmatic conservatives, who believe in the primacy of freedom but with a modicum of redistribution to ensure that all children get a fair start in life.

Defining fairness, however, is problematic for all socialists: it brings to the fore the issues outlined above - of what standards and policies and justifications are appropriate. If socialists depart from such intricacies they can assert that capitalism is morally flawed at its core - say, from its motivational or ethical underpinnings. The most popular criticism leveled against capitalism (or classical liberalism) is the unethical or selfish material pursuit of wealth and riches. Socialists often decry the ethical paucity of material values or those values that are assumed to characterize the capitalist world: competition and profit seeking and excessive individualism. Socialists prefer collective action over individual action, or at least individual action that is supportive of group rather than personal or selfish values. Nonetheless, most socialists shy away from espousing an anti-materialist philosophy; unlike environmentalists (see below): most support the pursuit of wealth but only when created by and for the working class (or in less Marxist terminology, the underrepresented, the underdog, the oppressed, or the general "poor"). They are often driven by a vision of a new golden age of riches that pure socialism will generate (how that will be so without the price mechanism is the subject of socialist economics). Some, however, do desire a lower standard of living for all - for the return to a simpler, collective life of earlier days; these socialists perceive a better life to be held in a medieval socialism of local trade patterns and guilds. Such ascetically leaning socialists have much in common with environmentalism.

Regardless of the moral problem of perpetual unequal distributions, socialists have an optimistic vision of what we can be - perhaps not what he now is (exploitative or oppressed), but of what he is capable of once society is reformed along socialist lines. Marxists, for example, assume that inconsistent or hypocritical bourgeois values will disappear; in their stead, any class-based morality will disappear (for class distinctions will disappear) but the particularities of what will guide ethical behavior is not readily explored - Marx avoided the topic, except to say that men will consider each other as men and not as working class or bourgeois. Most assume that socialism will end the need for family, religion, private property and selfishness - all opiates of the unawakened masses that keep them in a state of false consciousness: accordingly, free love, resources, food for all, unhindered talent and personal development, and enlightened collectivism will rule. The rejection of all authority that some in the socialist camp foresee is something they have in common with anarchists.

d. Anarchism

Anarchy stems from the Greek word, anarkos, meaning "without a chief." Its political meaning is a social and political system without a state or more broadly a society that is characterized by a lack of any hierarchical or authoritarian structures. The general approach of the anarchist is to emphasize that the good life can only be lived without constraining or limiting structures. Any institution or morality that is inconsistent with the life freely chosen is to be attacked, criticized, and rejected. What is therefore the crucial issue for anarchists is defining what constitutes genuinely artificial impediments and structures from those that are the product of nature or of voluntary activities.

Major anarchist thinkers include William Godwin, Max Stirner, Leo Tolstoy, Proudhon, Bakunin, Kropotkin, and recent libertarian and conservative thinkers who lean to anarchism such as Hans Hermann Hoppe and Murray Rothbard.

Various branches of anarchism emphasize different aspects of the protracted leaderless society: utopian versions look forward to a universal egalitarianism in which each is to count for one and no more than one, and accordingly each person's values are of equal moral and political weighting. (Utopian anarchists in the Nineteenth Century experimented with a variety of small communities that on the whole had short lives.) But the notion of egalitarianism is rejected by those anarchists who are more sympathetic to the rugged individualism of the American frontier and of the individual who seeks the quiet, private life of seclusion living close to nature.

Max Stirner, for example, rejects any kind of limitation on the action of the individual, including social structures that may evolve spontaneously - for example, parental authority, money, legal institutions (for example, common law), and property rights; Proudhon, on the other hand, argues for a society of small enterprising co-operatives. The co-operative movement often attracts those with collectivist leanings but who seek to move away from the potentially authoritarian model of typical socialism. In contrast, libertarian thinkers who support the free market have proposed anarchic solutions to economic and political problems: they stress the voluntaristic nature of the market system as a moral as well as an efficient means of distributing resources and accordingly condemn state failure to provide adequate resources (health care and education but also police and defense services); the so-called public goods and services, they assert, ought to be provided privately through the free market.

Regardless of the political direction that the anarchist leans towards (collectivism or individualism), how the anarchic community is to be secured presents philosophical problems that demand a close regard to possible inconsistencies. Historicist anarchists believe that anarchy is the ultimate state that humanity is (inevitably) ascending towards - they agree with Marx's general theory of history that history (and the future) divides into convenient eras which are characterized by a movement towards less authority in life (that is, the gradual displacement of authoritarian or socially divisive structures), and that this movement is inexorable. Radical anarchists claim that the future can only be fought for, and any imposition of authority on an individual's actions is to be defended against - their calls extend to anarchists actively undermining, disrupting and dismantling the apparatus of the coercive state; those on the libertarian wing stress that only government coerces whereas those more sympathetic to socialism's moral critique of capitalism emphasize the oppressive nature of multinational companies and of global capitalism. While some anarchists are pacifistic in their rejection of authority (drawing on Gandhi's conduct against British rule in India), others condone the use of violence to secure their freedom from external coercion. In common with modern liberal and with some socialists and conservatives, some branches of anarchism reject the material world and economic progress as being innately valuable. Anarchists who rail against economic progress (or "global capitalism") as somehow limiting their choices seek alternative ends to their political utopia, one which has much in common with the final political theory examined: environmentalism.

e. Environmentalism

Beyond the traditional ethical disputes concerning the good life for human beings and what political situation would best suit our development, others take up an alternative conception of humanity and its relationship with the living world. Broadly termed " environmentalist," this political philosophy does not concern itself with the rights of people or of society, but of the rights of the planet and other species.

The political philosophies of liberalism, socialism, conservativism and anarchism - and all of their variants - agree that the good life sought by political philosophy ought to be the good life for human beings. Their respective criticism of political practice and mores stem from a competing standard of what ought to constitute the good life for us. Feminists, for example, within the four man pro-human political theories argue for more (or different) rights and duties towards women; resident interventionists in the liberal and conservative clubs claim that political control over some means of production may enhance the opportunities for some hitherto underrepresented or disempowered folk; similarly, welfarists propose universal standards of living for all, to be secured by the their respective beliefs in collective or voluntaristic associations. However, environmentalism starts on a different premise: human beings are not the center of our politics - nature is.

At the beginning, it was noted that for argument's sake that theologically based political philosophies must come to terms or propose standards by which to judge a person's life on earth. Hence they enter the traditional debates of how people (Christian, Muslim, Jew, Sikh, Hindu, and so forth) ought to relate to his fellow human being and through what kind of institutions. Environmentalism, however, considers our place on earth to be of secondary importance to that of the natural world. In its weaker forms, environmentalism claims that human beings are custodians of nature, to whom we must show respect and perhaps even certain ethical and political obligations (obligations akin to those some theological positions hold of people to their God) to the natural world. This implies that people are accorded an equal ethical status as that of other living species - he is seen as a primus inter pares. In its stronger form, however, environmentalism condemns the very existence of humanity as a blot on the landscape - as the perennial destroyer of all that is good, for all that is good cannot, according to this position, be a product of human beings; people are the source of unending evils committed against the world. In terms of the grand vista of intellectual history, environmentalism stems from several anti-human or anti-secular traditions that reach back three millennia. Eastern religions developed theories of innate human wickedness (or nature's innate goodness) that filtered through to the West via Pythagorean mysticism and later Christian asceticism and Franciscan variations on a pro-nature theme. Applied issues that provoke its ire include pollution, vivisection, hunting, the domestication of animals, the eating of meat, and the desecration of the landscape.

Generally, environmentalists distinguish themselves from conservationists who, from various positions along the spectrum of political theory, argue that landscapes or animals ought to be protected from extinction only if they are beneficial or pleasing to humanity in some form or other. Environmentalists reject such human-centered utilitarianism in favor of a broad ethical intrinsicism - the theory that all species possess an innate value independent of any other entity's relationship to them. Criticisms leveled against this argument begin with asking what the moral relationship between a predator and its victim is or ought to be - does the mouse have a right not to be caught by the cat and is the cat a murderer for killing the mouse? And if this cannot be justified or even ethically explained does it not follow that when people stand in an analogous relationship to the animals we hunt and domesticate then we too should not be judged as a murderer for eating meat and wearing fur? The central issue for environmentalists and their animal rights supporting brethren is to explain the moral relationship between human and beast and the resulting asymmetrical justifications and judgments leveled against humanity: that is, according to the environmentalists' general ethical position, it is morally appropriate, so to speak, for the lion to hunt the gazelle or the ant to milk the caterpillar, but not for people to hunt the fox or milk the cow - and likewise, it can be asked whether it is morally appropriate for the wild-cat or bear to attack people but not for people to defend themselves?

The political philosophy of environmentalism then turns on creating the proper structures for human social life in this context. The weaker form demands, for example, that he stops pillaging the earth's resources by either prohibiting further exploitation or at least slowing the rate at which he is presently doing so: sustainable resource management is at the center of such environmentalism, although it is a political-economic theory that is also picked up by the other pro-human philosophies. Environmentalists theoretically can differ on what political-economic system can best fit their demands, but one advocate (Stewart Brand writing in The Whole Earth Catalogue) argues that people should return to a "Stone Age, where we might live like Indians in our valley, with our localism, our appropriate technology, our gardens, our homemade religion." However, the demographic and economic implications are apparently missed by such advocates: to return to a Neolithic state, humanity would have to divest itself of the complex division of labor it has produced with the expansion of its population and education. Effectively, this would imply a reduction in the human population to Neolithic numbers of a million or so for the entire planet. The fact that this would require the demise of five billion people should be addressed: what would justify the return to the supposed Eden and what methods would be appropriate? Brand begins his argument thus: "We have wished...for a disaster or for a social change to come and bomb us into the Stone Age..." Genocidal campaigns are justifiable according to those who assert that their population (culture, nation, race, religion) ought to be the sole residing group on the planet - an assertion hotly contended by other groups of course and those who expound the rights of individuals to pursue a life free of coercion, which leaves environmentalism to explain why people must suffer and even die for its ends. The proffered justifications often stem from a rejection of any rights for human beings.

Environmentalism extends rights to - or duties towards - other species which range extended beyond those animals closest to natural and cultural human sympathies. Rats, insects, and snails have been championed by various lobbies seeking to protect animals from human incursions. Utilitarians of the traditional political schools may agree with such proposals as being useful for humanity (say for future generations), but environmentalists prefer to remove 'human beings' from the equation and deposit inalienable rights on such non-human entities regardless of their relationship to humanity. Since animals are not ethical beings, environmentalists have a difficult task explaining why a snail darter possesses a greater right to live on the planet over a human. A solution is that our ethical and political capacities in fact negate our moral status: the fact that we can reason and hence comprehend the import of our actions implies that we are not to be trusted for we can willingly commit evil. An animal is a-moral in that regard: it kills, eats other entities, adapts to and changes its environment, breeds and pollutes, but it possesses no conception of what it does. For the environmentalist this accords non-human species a higher moral status. Animals act and react and there is no evil in this, but people think and therein lies the source of our immorality. From this premise, all human creations can be universally condemned as unethical.

4. Conclusion

The main political theories assume the ethical and hence political primacy of humanity - at least on this planet - and accordingly proceed to define what they consider the most appropriate institutions for human survival, development, morality and happiness. Environmentalism differs from this approach but all the political theories sketched out in this article are governed by and are dependent on ethical theories of human nature as it relates to the world and to others. Because political theory predominantly deals with human social nature, it must also deal with human individuality as well as our relationships to groups - with one's sense of self as a political and ethical entity as well as one's need and sense to belong to overarching identities. The major theories provoke in turn a vast range of discussion and debate on the subtleties of such issues as the law, economy, freedom, gender, nationality, violence, war, rebellion and sacrifice, as well as on the grander visions of our proper political realm (utopianism) and the criticism of present institutions from the local to the international level. The present mainstream debate between communitarianism and liberalism certainly offers the student a fertile ground for examining the nuances generated in the clash between collectivism and individualism, but alternative as well as historical political theories ought not to be ignored: they too still provoke and attract debate.

Author Information

Alexander Moseley
Email: alex@classical-foundations.com
United Kingdom

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Political philosophy begins with the question: what ought to be a person's relationship to society? The subject seeks the application of ethical concepts to the social sphere and thus deals with the variety of forms of government and social existence that people could live in - and in so doing, it also provides a standard by which to analyze and judge existing institutions and relationships.

# data[].attributes.headline
5.4 Political Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
5.4 Political Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
This book introduces key concepts to political philosophy such as authority, democracy, freedom and its limits, justice, feminism, multiculturalism, and nationality.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
This book introduces readers to the concepts of political philosophy. It starts by explaining why the subject is important and how it tackles basic ethical questions such as 'how should we live together in society?' It looks at political authority, the reasons why we need politics at all, the limitations of politics, and whether there are areas of life that shouldn't be governed by politics. It explores the connections between political authority and justice, a constant theme in political philosophy, and the ways in which social justice can be used to regulate rather than destroy a market economy. David Miller discusses why nations are the natural units of government and whether the rise of multiculturalism and transnational co-operation will change this: will we ever see the formation of a world government?

About the Series: The Very Short Introductions series from Oxford University Press contains hundreds of titles in almost every subject area. These pocket-sized books are the perfect way to get ahead in a new subject quickly. Our expert authors combine facts, analysis, perspective, new ideas, and enthusiasm to make interesting and challenging topics highly readable.

This book introduces readers to the concepts of political philosophy. It starts by explaining why the subject is important and how it tackles basic ethical questions such as 'how should we live together in society?' It looks at political authority, the reasons why we need politics at all, the limitations of politics, and whether there are areas of life that shouldn't be governed by politics. It explores the connections between political authority and justice, a constant theme in political philosophy, and the ways in which social justice can be used to regulate rather than destroy a market economy. David Miller discusses why nations are the natural units of government and whether the rise of multiculturalism and transnational co-operation will change this: will we ever see the formation of a world government?

About the Series: The Very Short Introductions series from Oxford University Press contains hundreds of titles in almost every subject area. These pocket-sized books are the perfect way to get ahead in a new subject quickly. Our expert authors combine facts, analysis, perspective, new ideas, and enthusiasm to make interesting and challenging topics highly readable.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores various theories of justice, just distribution, and different approaches to punishment.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What Is Justice?: Crash Course Philosophy #40

# data[].attributes.body
This is a video playlist of a series of lectures exploring the question of what is justice and fairness, and how we apply them in the real world.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Instructor Michael Sandel JUSTICE is the first Harvard course to be made freely available online and on public television. Nearly a thousand students pack Ha...

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the evolution and application of Western philosophical conceptions of justice, tracing ideas from ancient Greece through to contemporary philosophers, examining how justice is seen both as a moral virtue and a necessary quality for a stable society, and how it has been applied to social issues across history.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Western philosophers generally regard justice as the most fundamental of all virtues for ordering interpersonal relations and establishing and maintaining a stable political society. By tracking the historical interplay of these theories, what will be advocated is a developing understanding of justice in terms of respecting persons as free, rational agents.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the distinctions and implications between positive liberty, the control over one's life to fulfill one's purposes, and negative liberty, the absence of external constraints on action, as conceptual frameworks within political philosophy.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Imagine you are driving a car through town, and you come to a fork in the road. You turn left, but no one was forcing you to go one way or the other. Next you come to a crossroads. You turn right, but no one was preventing you from going left or straight on. There is no traffic to speak of and there are no diversions or police roadblocks. So you seem, as a driver, to be completely free. But this picture of your situation might change quite dramatically if we consider that the reason you went left and then right is that you're addicted to cigarettes and you're desperate to get to the tobacconists before it closes. Rather than driving, you feel you are being driven, as your urge to smoke leads you uncontrollably to turn the wheel first to the left and then to the right. Moreover, you're perfectly aware that your turning right at the crossroads means you'll probably miss a train that was to take you to an appointment you care about very much. You long to be free of this irrational desire that is not only threatening your longevity but is also stopping you right now from doing what you think you ought to be doing.

This story gives us two contrasting ways of thinking of liberty. On the one hand, one can think of liberty as the absence of obstacles external to the agent. You are free if no one is stopping you from doing whatever you might want to do. In the above story you appear, in this sense, to be free. On the other hand, one can think of liberty as the presence of control on the part of the agent. To be free, you must be self-determined, which is to say that you must be able to control your own destiny in your own interests. In the above story you appear, in this sense, to be unfree: you are not in control of your own destiny, as you are failing to control a passion that you yourself would rather be rid of and which is preventing you from realizing what you recognize to be your true interests. One might say that while on the first view liberty is simply about how many doors are open to the agent, on the second view it is more about going through the right doors for the right reasons.

In a famous essay first published in 1958, Isaiah Berlin called these two concepts of liberty negative and positive respectively (Berlin 1969). The reason for using these labels is that in the first case liberty seems to be a mere absence of something (i.e. of obstacles, barriers, constraints or interference from others), whereas in the second case it seems to require the presence of something (i.e. of control, self-mastery, self-determination or self-realization). In Berlin's words, we use the negative concept of liberty in attempting to answer the question "What is the area within which the subject - a person or group of persons - is or should be left to do or be what he is able to do or be, without interference by other persons?", whereas we use the positive concept in attempting to answer the question "What, or who, is the source of control or interference that can determine someone to do, or be, this rather than that?" (1969, pp. 121-22).

It is useful to think of the difference between the two concepts in terms of the difference between factors that are external and factors that are internal to the agent. While theorists of negative freedom are primarily interested in the degree to which individuals or groups suffer interference from external bodies, theorists of positive freedom are more attentive to the internal factors affecting the degree to which individuals or groups act autonomously. Given this difference, one might be tempted to think that a political philosopher should concentrate exclusively on negative freedom, a concern with positive freedom being more relevant to psychology or individual morality than to political and social institutions. This, however, would be premature, for among the most hotly debated issues in political philosophy are the following: Is the positive concept of freedom a political concept? Can individuals or groups achieve positive freedom through political action? Is it possible for the state to promote the positive freedom of citizens on their behalf? And if so, is it desirable for the state to do so? The classic texts in the history of western political thought are divided over how these questions should be answered: theorists in the classical liberal tradition, like Constant, Humboldt, Spencer and Mill, are typically classed as answering 'no' and therefore as defending a negative concept of political freedom; theorists that are critical of this tradition, like Rousseau, Hegel, Marx and T.H. Green, are typically classed as answering 'yes' and as defending a positive concept of political freedom.

In its political form, positive freedom has often been thought of as necessarily achieved through a collectivity. Perhaps the clearest case is that of Rousseau's theory of freedom, according to which individual freedom is achieved through participation in the process whereby one's community exercises collective control over its own affairs in accordance with the 'general will'. Put in the simplest terms, one might say that a democratic society is a free society because it is a self-determined society, and that a member of that society is free to the extent that he or she participates in its democratic process. But there are also individualist applications of the concept of positive freedom. For example, it is sometimes said that a government should aim actively to create the conditions necessary for individuals to be self-sufficient or to achieve self-realization. The welfare state has sometimes been defended on this basis, as has the idea of a universal basic income. The negative concept of freedom, on the other hand, is most commonly assumed in liberal defences of the constitutional liberties typical of liberal-democratic societies, such as freedom of movement, freedom of religion, and freedom of speech, and in arguments against paternalist or moralist state intervention. It is also often invoked in defences of the right to private property. This said, some philosophers have contested the claim that private property necessarily enhances negative liberty (Cohen 1991, 1995), and still others have tried to show that negative liberty can ground a form of egalitarianism (Steiner 1994).

After Berlin, the most widely cited and best developed analyses of the negative concept of liberty include Hayek (1960), Day (1971), Oppenheim (1981), Miller (1983) and Steiner (1994). Among the most prominent contemporary analyses of the positive concept of liberty are Milne (1968), Gibbs (1976), C. Taylor (1979) and Christman (1991, 2005).

Many liberals, including Berlin, have suggested that the positive concept of liberty carries with it a danger of authoritarianism. Consider the fate of a permanent and oppressed minority. Because the members of this minority participate in a democratic process characterized by majority rule, they might be said to be free on the grounds that they are members of a society exercising self-control over its own affairs. But they are oppressed, and so are surely unfree. Moreover, it is not necessary to see a society as democratic in order to see it as self-controlled; one might instead adopt an organic conception of society, according to which the collectivity is to be thought of as a living organism, and one might believe that this organism will only act rationally, will only be in control of itself, when its various parts are brought into line with some rational plan devised by its wise governors (who, to extend the metaphor, might be thought of as the organism's brain). In this case, even the majority might be oppressed in the name of liberty.

Such justifications of oppression in the name of liberty are no mere products of the liberal imagination, for there are notorious historical examples of their endorsement by authoritarian political leaders. Berlin, himself a liberal and writing during the cold war, was clearly moved by the way in which the apparently noble ideal of freedom as self-mastery or self-realization had been twisted and distorted by the totalitarian dictators of the twentieth century - most notably those of the Soviet Union - so as to claim that they, rather than the liberal West, were the true champions of freedom. The slippery slope towards this paradoxical conclusion begins, according to Berlin, with the idea of a divided self. To illustrate: the smoker in our story provides a clear example of a divided self, for she is both a self that desires to get to an appointment and a self that desires to get to the tobacconists, and these two desires are in conflict. We can now enrich this story in a plausible way by adding that one of these selves - the keeper of appointments - is superior to the other: the self that is a keeper of appointments is thus a 'higher' self, and the self that is a smoker is a 'lower' self. The higher self is the rational, reflecting self, the self that is capable of moral action and of taking responsibility for what she does. This is the true self, for rational reflection and moral responsibility are the features of humans that mark them off from other animals. The lower self, on the other hand, is the self of the passions, of unreflecting desires and irrational impulses. One is free, then, when one's higher, rational self is in control and one is not a slave to one's passions or to one's merely empirical self. The next step down the slippery slope consists in pointing out that some individuals are more rational than others, and can therefore know best what is in their and others' rational interests. This allows them to say that by forcing people less rational than themselves to do the rational thing and thus to realize their true selves, they are in fact liberating them from their merely empirical desires. Occasionally, Berlin says, the defender of positive freedom will take an additional step that consists in conceiving of the self as wider than the individual and as represented by an organic social whole - "a tribe, a race, a church, a state, the great society of the living and the dead and the yet unborn". The true interests of the individual are to be identified with the interests of this whole, and individuals can and should be coerced into fulfilling these interests, for they would not resist coercion if they were as rational and wise as their coercers. "Once I take this view", Berlin says, "I am in a position to ignore the actual wishes of men or societies, to bully, oppress, torture in the name, and on behalf, of their 'real' selves, in the secure knowledge that whatever is the true goal of man ... must be identical with his freedom" (Berlin 1969, pp. 132-33).

Those in the negative camp try to cut off this line of reasoning at the first step, by denying that there is any necessary relation between one's freedom and one's desires. Since one is free to the extent that one is externally unprevented from doing things, they say, one can be free to do what one does not desire to do. If being free meant being unprevented from realizing one's desires, then one could, again paradoxically, reduce one's unfreedom by coming to desire fewer of the things one is unfree to do. One could become free simply by contenting oneself with one's situation. A perfectly contented slave is perfectly free to realize all of her desires. Nevertheless, we tend to think of slavery as the opposite of freedom. More generally, freedom is not to be confused with happiness, for in logical terms there is nothing to stop a free person from being unhappy or an unfree person from being happy. The happy person might feel free, but whether they are free is another matter (Day, 1970). Negative theorists of freedom therefore tend to say not that having freedom means being unprevented from doing as one desires, but that it means being unprevented from doing whatever one might desire to do (Steiner 1994. Cf. Van Parijs 1995; Sugden 2006).

Some theorists of positive freedom bite the bullet and say that the contented slave is indeed free - that in order to be free the individual must learn, not so much to dominate certain merely empirical desires, but to rid herself of them. She must, in other words, remove as many of her desires as possible. As Berlin puts it, if I have a wounded leg 'there are two methods of freeing myself from pain. One is to heal the wound. But if the cure is too difficult or uncertain, there is another method. I can get rid of the wound by cutting off my leg' (1969, pp. 135-36). This is the strategy of liberation adopted by ascetics, stoics and Buddhist sages. It involves a 'retreat into an inner citadel' - a soul or a purely noumenal self - in which the individual is immune to any outside forces. But this state, even if it can be achieved, is not one that liberals would want to call one of freedom, for it again risks masking important forms of oppression. It is, after all, often in coming to terms with excessive external limitations in society that individuals retreat into themselves, pretending to themselves that they do not really desire the worldly goods or pleasures they have been denied. Moreover, the removal of desires may also be an effect of outside forces, such as brainwashing, which we should hardly want to call a realization of freedom.

Because the concept of negative freedom concentrates on the external sphere in which individuals interact, it seems to provide a better guarantee against the dangers of paternalism and authoritarianism perceived by Berlin. To promote negative freedom is to promote the existence of a sphere of action within which the individual is sovereign, and within which she can pursue her own projects subject only to the constraint that she respect the spheres of others. Humboldt and Mill, both advocates of negative freedom, compared the development of an individual to that of a plant: individuals, like plants, must be allowed to grow, in the sense of developing their own faculties to the full and according to their own inner logic. Personal growth is something that cannot be imposed from without, but must come from within the individual.

Critics, however, have objected that the ideal described by Humboldt and Mill looks much more like a positive concept of liberty than a negative one. Positive liberty consists, they say, in exactly this growth of the individual: the free individual is one that develops, determines and changes her own desires and interests autonomously and from within. This is not liberty as the mere absence of obstacles, but liberty as autonomy or self-realization. Why should the mere absence of state interference be thought to guarantee such growth? Is there not some third way between the extremes of totalitarianism and the minimal state of the classical liberals - some non-paternalist, non-authoritarian means by which positive liberty in the above sense can be actively promoted?

Much of the more recent work on positive liberty has been motivated by a dissatisfaction with the ideal of negative liberty combined with an awareness of the possible abuses of the positive concept so forcefully exposed by Berlin. John Christman (1991, 2005, 2009), for example, has argued that positive liberty concerns the ways in which desires are formed - whether as a result of rational reflection on all the options available, or as a result of pressure, manipulation or ignorance. What it does not regard, he says, is the content of an individual's desires. The promotion of positive freedom need not therefore involve the claim that there is only one right answer to the question of how a person should live, nor need it allow, or even be compatible with, a society forcing its members into given patterns of behavior. Take the example of a Muslim woman who claims to espouse the fundamentalist doctrines generally followed by her family and the community in which she lives. On Christman's account, this person is positively unfree if her desire to conform was somehow oppressively imposed upon her through indoctrination, manipulation or deceit. She is positively free, on the other hand, if she arrived at her desire to conform while aware of other reasonable options and she weighed and assessed these other options rationally. Even if this woman seems to have a preference for subservient behavior, there is nothing necessarily freedom-enhancing or freedom-restricting about her having the desires she has, since freedom regards not the content of these desires but their mode of formation. On this view, forcing her to do certain things rather than others can never make her more free, and Berlin's paradox of positive freedom would seem to have been avoided.

It remains to be seen, however, just what a state can do, in practice, to promote positive liberty in Christman's sense without encroaching on any individual's sphere of negative liberty: the conflict between the two ideals seems to survive his alternative analysis, albeit in a milder form. Even if we rule out coercing individuals into specific patterns of behavior, a state interested in promoting autonomy in Christman's sense might still be allowed considerable space for intervention of an informative and educational nature, perhaps subsidizing some activities (in order to encourage a plurality of genuine options) and financing this through taxation. Liberals might criticize this on anti-paternalist grounds, objecting that such measures will require the state to use resources in ways that the supposedly heteronomous individuals, if left to themselves, might have chosen to spend in other ways. Some liberals will make an exception in the case of the education of children (in such a way as to cultivate open minds and rational reflection), but even here other liberals will object that the right to negative liberty includes the right to decide how one's children should be educated.

Other theorists of liberty have remained closer to the negative concept but have attempted to go beyond it, saying that liberty is not merely the enjoyment of a sphere of non-interference but the enjoyment of certain conditions in which such non-interference is guaranteed (see especially Pettit 1997, 2001, 2014, and Skinner 1998, 2002). These conditions may include the presence of a democratic constitution and a series of safeguards against a government wielding power arbitrarily, including the separation of powers and the exercise of civic virtues on the part of citizens. As Berlin admits, on the negative view, I am free even if I live in a dictatorship just as long as the dictator happens, on a whim, not to interfere with me (see also Hayek 1960). There is no necessary connection between negative liberty and any particular form of government. On the alternative view sketched here, I am free only if I live in a society with the kinds of political institutions that guarantee the independence of each citizen from exercises of arbitrary power. Quentin Skinner has called this view of freedom 'neo-Roman', invoking ideas about freedom both of the ancient Romans and of a number of Renaissance and early modern writers. Philip Pettit has called the same view 'republican', and this label has tended to dominate in the recent literature (Weinstock and Nadeau 2004; Larmore 2004; Laborde and Maynor 2008).

Republican freedom can be thought of as a kind of status: to be a free person is to enjoy the rights and privileges attached to the status of republican citizenship, whereas the paradigm of the unfree person is the slave. Freedom is not simply a matter of non-interference, for a slave may enjoy a great deal of non-interference at the whim of her master. What makes her unfree is her status, such that she is permanently liable to interference of any kind. Even if the slave enjoys non-interference, she is, as Pettit puts it, 'dominated', because she is permanently subject to the arbitrary power of her owner.

Contemporary republicans therefore claim that their view of freedom is quite distinct from the negative view of freedom. As we have seen, one can enjoy non-interference without enjoying non-domination; conversely, according to Pettit, one can enjoy non-domination while nevertheless being interfered with, just as long as the interference in question is constrained, through republican power structures, to track one's interests. Only arbitrary power is inimical to freedom, not power as such. On the other hand, republican freedom is also distinct from positive freedom as expounded and criticized by Berlin. First, republican freedom does not consist in the activity of virtuous political participation; rather, that participation is seen as instrumentally related to freedom as non-domination. Secondly, the republican concept of freedom cannot lead to anything like the oppressive consequences feared by Berlin, because it has a commitment to non-domination and to liberal-democratic institutions already built into it.

It remains to be seen, however, whether the republican concept of freedom is ultimately distinguishable from the negative concept, or whether republican writers on freedom have not simply provided good arguments to the effect that negative freedom is best promoted, on balance and over time, through certain kinds of political institutions rather than others. While there is no necessary connection between negative liberty and democratic government, there may nevertheless be a strong empirical correlation between the two. Ian Carter (1999, 2008), Matthew H. Kramer (2003, 2008), and Robert Goodin and Frank Jackson (2007) have argued, along these lines, that republican policies are best defended empirically on the basis of the standard negative ideal of freedom, rather than on the basis of a conceptual challenge to that ideal. An important premise in such an argument is that the extent of a person's negative freedom is a function not simply of how many single actions are prevented, but of how many different act-combinations are prevented. On this basis, people who can achieve their goals only by bowing and scraping to their masters must be seen as less free than people who can achieve those goals unconditionally. Another important premise is that the extent to which a person is negatively free depends, in part, on the probability with which he or she will be constrained from performing future acts or act-combinations. People who are subject to arbitrary power can be seen as less free in the negative sense even if they do not actually suffer interference, because the probability of their suffering constraints is always greater ( ceteris paribus, as a matter of empirical fact) than it would be if they were not subject to that arbitrary power. Perhaps this non-trivial probability is sufficient to explain the sense of exposure and precariousness of the 'dominated'. In reply, Pettit (2008a, 2008b) and Skinner (2008) have insisted that what matters for an agent's freedom is the impossibility of others interfering with impunity, not the improbability of their doing so.

Much of the most recent literature on political and social freedom has concentrated on the above debate over the differences between the republican and liberal (i.e. negative) conceptions of freedom. Critiques of the republican conception that build on, or are otherwise sympathetic to, those of Carter and Kramer, can be found in Bruin (2009), Lang (2012) and Shnayderman (2012). Pettit himself has continued to refine his position, and has further discussed its relation to that of Berlin (Pettit 2011). Berlin's own conception of negative liberty, he argues, occupies an inherently unstable position between the more restrictive Hobbesian view and the more expansive view of freedom as non-domination.

Pettit's analysis of freedom has inspired a number of recent works by political theorists sympathetic to the republican tradition. Frank Lovett has developed an account of domination as a descriptive concept, and of justice as the minimization of domination (Lovett 2010). Several other authors have made use of the concept of domination in addressing more specific problems in normative political theory, such as disability rights, workplace democracy, social equality, and education policy (De Wispelaere and Casassas 2014; Breen and McBride 2015).

The two sides identified by Berlin disagree over which of two different concepts best deserves the name of 'liberty'. Does this fact not denote the presence of some more basic agreement between the two sides? How, after all, could they see their disagreement as one about the definition of liberty if they did not think of themselves as in some sense talking about the same thing? In an influential article, the American legal philosopher Gerald MacCallum (1967) put forward the following answer: there is in fact only one basic concept of freedom, on which both sides in the debate converge. What the so-called negative and positive theorists disagree about is how this single concept of freedom should be interpreted. Indeed, in MacCallum's view, there are a great many different possible interpretations of freedom, and it is only Berlin's artificial dichotomy that has led us to think in terms of there being two.

MacCallum defines the basic concept of freedom - the concept on which everyone agrees - as follows: a subject, or agent, is free from certain constraints, or preventing conditions, to do or become certain things. Freedom is therefore a triadic relation - that is, a relation between three things: an agent, certain preventing conditions, and certain doings or becomings of the agent. Any statement about freedom or unfreedom can be translated into a statement of the above form by specifying what is free or unfree, from what it is free or unfree, and what it is free or unfree to do or become. Any claim about the presence or absence of freedom in a given situation will therefore make certain assumptions about what counts as an agent, what counts as a constraint or limitation on freedom, and what counts as a purpose that the agent can be described as either free or unfree to carry out.

The definition of freedom as a triadic relation was first put forward in the seminal work of Felix Oppenheim in the 1950s and 60s. Oppenheim saw that an important meaning of 'freedom' in the context of political and social philosophy was as a relation between two agents and a particular (impeded or unimpeded) action. This interpretation of freedom remained, however, what Berlin would call a negative one. What MacCallum did was to generalize this triadic structure so that it would cover all possible claims about freedom, whether of the negative or the positive variety. In MacCallum's framework, unlike in Oppenheim's, the interpretation of each of the three variables is left open. In other words, MacCallum's position is a meta-theoretical one: his is a theory about the differences between theorists of freedom.

To illustrate MacCallum's point, let us return to the example of the smoker driving to the tobacconists. In describing this person as either free or unfree, we shall be making assumptions about each of MacCallum's three variables. If we say that the driver is free, what we shall probably mean is that an agent, consisting in the driver's empirical self, is free from external (physical or legal) obstacles to do whatever he or she might want to do. If, on the other hand, we say that the driver is unfree, what we shall probably mean is that an agent, consisting in a higher or rational self, is made unfree by internal, psychological constraints to carry out some rational, authentic or virtuous plan. Notice that in both claims there is a negative element and a positive element: each claim about freedom assumes both that freedom is freedom from something (i.e., preventing conditions) and that it is freedom to do or become something. The dichotomy between 'freedom from' and 'freedom to' is therefore a false one, and it is misleading to say that those who see the driver as free employ a negative concept and those who see the driver as unfree employ a positive one. What these two camps differ over is the way in which one should interpret each of the three variables in the triadic freedom-relation. More precisely, we can see that what they differ over is the extension to be assigned to each of the variables.

Thus, those whom Berlin places in the negative camp typically conceive of the agent as having the same extension as that which it is generally given in ordinary discourse: they tend to think of the agent as an individual human being and as including all of the empirical beliefs and desires of that individual. Those in the so-called positive camp, on the other hand, often depart from the ordinary notion, in one sense imagining the agent as more extensive than in the ordinary notion, and in another sense imagining it as less extensive: they think of the agent as having a greater extension than in ordinary discourse in cases where they identify the agent's true desires and aims with those of some collectivity of which she is a member; and they think of the agent as having a lesser extension than in ordinary discourse in cases where they identify the true agent with only a subset of her empirical beliefs and desires - i.e., with those that are rational, authentic or virtuous. Secondly, those in Berlin's positive camp tend to take a wider view of what counts as a constraint on freedom than those in his negative camp: the set of relevant obstacles is more extensive for the former than for the latter, since negative theorists tend to count only external obstacles as constraints on freedom, whereas positive theorists also allow that one may be constrained by internal factors, such as irrational desires, fears or ignorance. And thirdly, those in Berlin's positive camp tend to take a narrower view of what counts as a purpose one can be free to fulfill. The set of relevant purposes is less extensive for them than for the negative theorists, for we have seen that they tend to restrict the relevant set of actions or states to those that are rational, authentic or virtuous, whereas those in the negative camp tend to extend this variable so as to cover any action or state the agent might desire.

On MacCallum's analysis, then, there is no simple dichotomy between positive and negative liberty; rather, we should recognize that there is a whole range of possible interpretations or 'conceptions' of the single concept of liberty. Indeed, as MacCallum says and as Berlin seems implicitly to admit, a number of classic authors cannot be placed unequivocally in one or the other of the two camps. Locke, for example, is normally thought of as one of the fathers or classical liberalism and therefore as a staunch defender of the negative concept of freedom. He indeed states explicitly that '[to be at] liberty is to be free from restraint and violence from others'. But he also says that liberty is not to be confused with 'license', and that "that ill deserves the name of confinement which hedges us in only from bogs and precipices" ( Second Treatise, parags. 6 and 57). While Locke gives an account of constraints on freedom that Berlin would call negative, he seems to endorse an account of MacCallum's third freedom-variable that Berlin would call positive, restricting this to actions that are not immoral (liberty is not license) and to those that are in the agent's own interests (I am not unfree if prevented from falling into a bog). A number of contemporary libertarians have provided or assumed definitions of freedom that are similarly morally loaded (e.g. Nozick 1974; Rothbard 1982). This would seem to confirm MacCallum's claim that it is conceptually and historically misleading to divide theorists into two camps - a negative liberal one and a positive non-liberal one.

To illustrate the range of interpretations of the concept of freedom made available by MacCallum's analysis, let us now take a closer look at his second variable - that of constraints on freedom.

Advocates of negative conceptions of freedom typically restrict the range of obstacles that count as constraints on freedom to those that are brought about by other agents. For theorists who conceive of constraints on freedom in this way, I am unfree only to the extent that other people prevent me from doing certain things. If I am incapacitated by natural causes - by a genetic handicap, say, or by a virus or by certain climatic conditions - I may be rendered unable to do certain things, but I am not, for that reason, rendered unfree to do them. Thus, if you lock me in my house, I shall be both unable and unfree to leave. But if I am unable to leave because I suffer from a debilitating illness or because a snow drift has blocked my exit, I am nevertheless not unfree, to leave. The reason such theorists give, for restricting the set of relevant preventing conditions in this way, is that they see unfreedom as a social relation - a relation between persons (see Oppenheim 1961; Miller 1983; Steiner 1983; Kristjánsson 1996; Kramer 2003; Morriss 2012; Shnayderman 2013; Schmidt forthcoming). Unfreedom as mere inability is thought by such authors to be more the concern of engineers and medics than of political and social philosophers. (If I suffer from a natural or self-inflicted inability to do something, should we to say that I remain free to do it, or should we say that the inability removes my freedom to do it while nevertheless not implying that I am un free to do it? In the latter case, we shall be endorsing a 'trivalent' conception, according to which there are some things that a person is neither free nor unfree to do. Kramer 2003 endorses a trivalent conception according to which freedom is identified with ability and unfreedom is the prevention (by others) of outcomes that the agent would otherwise be able to bring about.)

In attempting to distinguish between natural and social obstacles we shall inevitably come across gray areas. An important example is that of obstacles created by impersonal economic forces. Do economic constraints like recession, poverty and unemployment merely incapacitate people, or do they also render them unfree? Libertarians and egalitarians have provided contrasting answers to this question by appealing to different conceptions of constraints. Thus, one way of answering the question is by taking an even more restrictive view of what counts as a constraint on freedom, so that only a subset of the set of obstacles brought about by other persons counts as a restriction of freedom: those brought about intentionally. In this case, impersonal economic forces, being brought about unintentionally, do not restrict people's freedom, even though they undoubtedly make many people unable to do many things. This last view has been taken by a number of market-oriented libertarians, including, most famously, Friedrich von Hayek (1960, 1982), according to whom freedom is the absence of coercion, where to be coerced is to be subject to the arbitrary will of another. (Notice the somewhat surprising similarity between this conception of freedom and the republican conception discussed earlier, in section 3.2) Critics of libertarianism, on the other hand, typically endorse a broader conception of constraints on freedom that includes not only intentionally imposed obstacles but also unintended obstacles for which someone may nevertheless be held responsible (for Miller and Kristjánsson and Shnayderman this means morally responsible; for Oppenheim and Kramer it means causally responsible), or indeed obstacles created in any way whatsoever, so that unfreedom comes to be identical to inability (see Crocker 1980; Cohen 1988; Sen 1992; Van Parijs 1995).

This analysis of constraints helps to explain why socialists and egalitarians have tended to claim that the poor in a capitalist society are as such unfree, or that they are less free than the rich, whereas libertarians have tended to claim that the poor in a capitalist society are no less free than the rich. Egalitarians typically (though not always) assume a broader notion than libertarians of what counts as a constraint on freedom. Although this view does not necessarily imply what Berlin would call a positive notion of freedom, egalitarians often call their own definition a positive one, in order to convey the sense that freedom requires not merely the absence of certain social relations of prevention but the presence of abilities, or what Amartya Sen has influentially called 'capabilities' (Sen 1985, 1988, 1992). (Important exceptions to this egalitarian tendency to broaden the relevant set of constraints include Waldron (1993) and Cohen (2011), who demonstrate, for the sake of argument, that relative poverty is in fact empirically inseparable from, and indeed proportional to, the imposition of physical barriers by other agents, and Steiner (1994), who grounds a left-libertarian theory of justice in the idea of an equal distribution of social freedom.)

We have seen that advocates of a negative conception of freedom tend to count only obstacles that are external to the agent. Notice, however, that the term 'external' is ambiguous in this context, for it might be taken to refer either to the location of the causal source of an obstacle or to the location of the obstacle itself. Obstacles that count as 'internal' in terms of their own location include psychological phenomena such as ignorance, irrational desires, illusions and phobias. Such constraints can be caused in various ways: for example, they might have a genetic origin, or they might be brought about intentionally by others, as in the case of brainwashing or manipulation. In the first case we have an internal constraint brought about by natural causes; in the second, an internal constraint intentionally imposed by another human agent.

More generally, we can now see that there are in fact two different dimensions along which one's notion of a constraint might be broader or narrower. A first dimension is that of the source of a constraint - in other words, what it is that brings about a constraint on freedom. We have seen, for example, that some theorists include as constraints on freedom only obstacles brought about by human action, whereas others also include obstacles with a natural origin. A second dimension is that of the type of constraint involved, where constraint-types include the types of internal constraint just mentioned, but also various types of constraint located outside the agent, such as physical barriers that render an action impossible, obstacles that render the performance of an action more or less difficult, and costs attached to the performance of a (more or less difficult) action. The two dimensions of type and source are logically independent of one another. Given this independence, it is theoretically possible to combine a narrow view of what counts as a source of a constraint with a broad view of what types of obstacle count as unfreedom-generating constraints, or vice versa. As a result, it is not clear that theorists who are normally placed in the 'negative' camp need deny the existence of internal constraints on freedom (see Kramer 2003; Garnett 2007).

To illustrate the independence of the two dimensions of type and source, consider the case of the unorthodox libertarian Hillel Steiner (1974-5, 1994). On the one hand, Steiner has a much broader view than Hayek of the possible sources of constraints on freedom: he does not limit the set of such sources to intentional human actions, but extends it to cover all kinds of human cause, whether or not any humans intend such causes and whether or not they can be held morally accountable for them, believing that any restriction of such non-natural sources can only be an arbitrary stipulation, usually arising from some more or less conscious ideological bias. On the other hand, Steiner has an even narrower view than Hayek about what type of obstacle counts as a constraint on freedom: for Steiner, an agent only counts as unfree to do something if it is physically impossible for her to do that thing. Any extension of the constraint variable to include other types of obstacle, such as the costs anticipated in coercive threats, would, in his view, necessarily involve a reference to the agent's desires, and we have seen (in sec. 2) that for those liberals in the negative camp there is no necessary relation between an agent's freedom and her desires. Consider the coercive threat 'Your money or your life!'. This does not make it impossible for you to refuse to hand over your money, only much less desirable for you to do so. If you decide not to hand over the money, you will suffer the cost of being killed. That will count as a restriction of your freedom, because it will render physically impossible a great number of actions on your part. But it is not the issuing of the threat that creates this unfreedom, and you are not unfree until the sanction (described in the threat) is carried out. For this reason, Steiner excludes threats - and with them all other kinds of imposed costs - from the set of obstacles that count as freedom-restricting. This conception of freedom derives from Hobbes ( Leviathan, chs. 14 and 21), and its defenders often call it the 'pure' negative conception (M. Taylor 1982; Steiner 1994; Carter and Kramer 2008) to distinguish it from those 'impure' negative conceptions that make at least minimal references to the agent's beliefs, desires or values.

Steiner's account of the relation between freedom and coercive threats might be thought to have counterintuitive implications, even from the liberal point of view. Many laws that are normally thought to restrict negative freedom do not physically prevent people from doing what is prohibited, but deter them from doing so by threatening punishment. Are we to say, then, that these laws do not restrict the negative freedom of those who obey them? A solution to this problem may consist in saying that although a law against doing some action, x, does not remove the freedom to do x, it nevertheless renders physically impossible certain combinations of actions that include doing x and doing what would be precluded by the punishment. There is a restriction of the person's overall negative freedom - i.e. a reduction in the overall number of act-combinations available to her - even though she does not lose the freedom to do any specific thing taken in isolation (Carter 1999).

The concept of overall freedom appears to play an important role both in everyday discourse and in contemporary political philosophy. It is only recently, however, that philosophers have stopped concentrating exclusively on the meaning of a particular freedom - the freedom to do or become this or that particular thing - and have started asking whether we can also make sense of descriptive claims to the effect that one person or society is freer than another or of liberal normative claims to the effect that freedom should be maximized or that people should enjoy equal freedom or that they each have a right to a certain minimum level of freedom. The literal meaningfulness of such claims depends on the possibility of gauging degrees of overall freedom, sometimes comparatively, sometimes absolutely.

Theorists disagree, however, about the importance of the notion of overall freedom. For some libertarian and liberal egalitarian theorists, freedom is valuable as such. This suggests that more freedom is better than less (at least ceteris paribus), and that freedom is one of those goods that a liberal society ought to distribute in a certain way among individuals. For other liberal theorists, like Ronald Dworkin (1977, 2011) and the later Rawls (1991), freedom is not valuable as such, and all claims about maximal or equal freedom ought to be interpreted not as literal references to a quantitative good called 'liberty' but as elliptical references to the adequacy of lists of certain particular liberties, or types of liberties, selected on the basis of values other than liberty itself. Generally speaking, only the first group of theorists finds the notion of overall freedom interesting.

The theoretical problems involved in measuring overall freedom include that of how an agent's available actions are to be individuated, counted and weighted, and that of comparing and weighting different types (but not necessarily different sources) of constraints on freedom (such as physical prevention, punishability, threats and manipulation). How are we to make sense of the claim that the number of options available to a person has increased? Should all options count for the same in terms of degrees of freedom, or should they be weighted according to their importance in terms of other values? In the latter, does the notion of overall freedom really add anything of substance to the idea that people should be granted those specific freedoms that are valuable? Should the degree of variety among options also count? And how are we to compare the unfreedom created by the physical impossibility of an action with, say, the unfreedom created by the difficulty or costliness or punishability of an action? It is only by comparing these different kinds of actions and constraints that we shall be in a position to compare individuals' overall degrees of freedom. These problems have been addressed, with differing degrees of optimism, not only by political philosophers (Steiner 1983; Carter 1999; Kramer 2003; Garnett 2016) but also, and increasingly, by social choice theorists interested in finding a freedom-based alternative to the standard utilitarian or 'welfarist' framework that has tended to dominate their discipline (e.g. Pattanaik and Xu 1991, 1998; Hees 2000; Sen 2002; Sugden 1998, 2003, 2006; Bavetta 2004; Bavetta and Navarra 2012, 2014).

MacCallum's framework is particularly well suited to the clarification of such issues. For this reason, theorists working on the measurement of freedom tend not to refer a great deal to the distinction between positive and negative freedom. This said, most of them are concerned with freedom understood as the availability of options. And the notion of freedom as the availability of options is unequivocally negative in Berlin's sense at least where two conditions are met: first, the source of unfreedom-creating constraints is limited to the actions of other agents, so that natural or self-inflicted obstacles are not seen as decreasing an agent's freedom; second, the actions one is free or unfree to perform are weighted in some value-neutral way, so that one is not seen as freer simply because the options available to one are more valuable or conducive to one's self-realization. Of the above-mentioned authors, only Steiner embraces both conditions explicitly. Sen rejects both of them, despite not endorsing anything like positive freedom in Berlin's sense.

We began with a simple distinction between two concepts of liberty, and have progressed from this to the recognition that liberty might be defined in any number of ways, depending on how one interprets the three variables of agent, constraints, and purposes. Despite the utility of MacCallum's triadic formula and its strong influence on analytic philosophers, however, Berlin's distinction remains an important point of reference for discussions about the meaning and value of political and social freedom. Are these continued references to positive and negative freedom philosophically well-founded?

It might be claimed that MacCallum's framework is less than wholly inclusive of the various possible conceptions of freedom. In particular, it might be said, the concept of self-mastery or self-direction implies a presence of control that is not captured by MacCallum's explication of freedom as a triadic relation. MacCallum's triadic relation indicates mere possibilities. If one thinks of freedom as involving self-direction, on the other hand, one has in mind an exercise-concept of freedom as opposed to an opportunity-concept (this distinction comes from C. Taylor 1979). If interpreted as an exercise concept, freedom consists not merely in the possibility of doing certain things (i.e. in the lack of constraints on doing them), but in actually doing certain things in certain ways - for example, in realizing one's true self or in acting on the basis of rational and well-informed decisions. The idea of freedom as the absence of constraints on the realization of given ends might be criticised as failing to capture this exercise concept of freedom, for the latter concept makes no reference to the absence of constraints.

However, this defence of the positive-negative distinction as coinciding with the distinction between exercise- and opportunity-concepts of freedom has been challenged by Eric Nelson (2005). As Nelson points out, most of the theorists that are traditionally located in the positive camp, such as Green or Bosanquet, do not distinguish between freedom as the absence of constraints and freedom as the doing or becoming of certain things. For these theorists, freedom is the absence of any kind of constraint whatsoever on the realization of one's true self (they adopt a maximally extensive conception of constraints on freedom), and the absence of all factors that could prevent the action x is, quite simply, equivalent to the realization of x. In other words, if there really is nothing stopping me from doing x - if I possess all the means to do x, and I have a desire to do x, and no desire, irrational or otherwise, not to do x - then I do x. An equivalent way to characterize the difference between such positive theorists and the so-called negative theorists of freedom lies in the degree of specificity with which they describe x. For those who adopt a narrow conception of constraints, x is described with a low degree of specificity ( x could be exemplified by the realization of any of a large array of options); for those who adopt a broad conception of constraints, x is described with a high degree of specificity ( x can only be exemplified by the realization of a specific option, or of one of a small group of options).

What perhaps remains of the distinction is a rough categorization of the various interpretations of freedom that serves to indicate their degree of fit with the classical liberal tradition. There is indeed a certain family resemblance between the conceptions that are normally seen as falling on one or the other side of Berlin's divide, and one of the decisive factors in determining this family resemblance is the theorist's degree of concern with the notion of the self. Those on the 'positive' side see questions about the nature and sources of a person's beliefs, desires and values as relevant in determining that person's freedom, whereas those on the 'negative' side, being more faithful to the classical liberal tradition, tend to consider the raising of such questions as in some way indicating a propensity to violate the agent's dignity or integrity (Carter 2011a). One side takes a positive interest in the agent's beliefs, desires and values, while the other recommends that we avoid doing so.

Feinberg, J., 1973, Social Philosophy, New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, ch. 1 [article-length general introduction].

Flickschuh, K., 2007, Freedom. Contemporary Liberal Perspectives, Cambridge: Polity [introduction to Berlin and MacCallum together with analysis of the conceptions of freedom of Nozick, Steiner, Dworkin and Raz].

Carter, I., Kramer, M. H. and Steiner, H. (eds.), 2007, Freedom: A Philosophical Anthology, Oxford: Blackwell [large number of excerpts from all the major contemporary contributions to the interpretation of freedom, with editorial introductions. The first of its nine sections is specifically on positive vs negative liberty].

Gray, T., 1991, Freedom, London: Macmillan [comprehensive book-length introduction].

Kukathas, C., 1993, Liberty, in R. Goodin and P. Pettit (eds.),A Companion to Contemporary Political Philosophy, Oxford: Blackwell [article-length general introduction].

Pelczynski, Z. and Gray, J. (eds.), 1984, Conceptions of Liberty in Political Philosophy, London: Athlone Press [collection of essays on single authors, mostly historical].

Miller, D. (ed.), 1991, Liberty, Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2nd ed.,The Liberty Reader, Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2006 [representative collection of contemporary essays, including Berlin and his critics, with editorial introduction and a guide to further reading].

Plant, R., 1991, Modern Political Thought, Oxford: Blackwell, ch 1 [article-length general introduction].

Schmidtz, D. (ed.), 2017, The Oxford Handbook of Freedom, New York: Oxford University Press [collection of up-to-date essays by major contemporary authors].

Arneson, R. J., 1985, 'Freedom and Desire', Canadian Journal of Philosophy, 3: 425-48.

Baum, B. and Nichols, R. (eds.), 2013, Isaiah Berlin and the Politics of Freedom. "Two Concepts of Liberty" 50 Years Later, London: Routledge.

Bavetta, S., 2004, 'Measuring Freedom of Choice: An Alternative View of a Recent Literature', Social Choice and Welfare, 22: 29-48.

Bavetta, S. and Navarra, P., 2012, The Economics of Freedom. Theory, Measurement, and Policy Implications, New York: Cambridge University Press.

Bavetta, S., Navarra, P. and Maimone, D., 2014, Freedom and the Pursuit of Happiness. An Economic and Political Perspective, New York: Cambridge University Press.

Berlin, I., 1969, 'Two Concepts of Liberty', in I. Berlin, Four Essays on Liberty, London: Oxford University Press. New ed. in Berlin 2002.

---, 1978, 'From Hope and Fear Set Free', in I. Berlin, Concepts and Categories. Philosophical Essays, ed. H. Hardy, London: Hogarth Press; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980. Reprinted in Berlin 2002.

---, 2002, Liberty, ed. H. Hardy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Bobbio, N., 1955, 'La libertà dei moderni comparata a quella dei posteri', in N. Bobbio, Politica e cultura, Turin: Einaudi.

Bosanquet, B., 1899, The Philosophical Theory of the State, London: Macmillan.

Breen, K. and McBride, C. (eds.), 2015, 'Freedom and Domination: Exploring Republican Freedom', Special Issue of Critical Review of International Social and Political Philosophy, 18: 349-485.

Bruin, B. de, 2009, 'Liberal and Republican Freedom', Journal of Political Philosophy, 17: 418-39.

Carter, I., 1999, A Measure of Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2004, 'Choice, Freedom and Freedom of Choice', Social Choice and Welfare, 22: 61-81.

---, 2008, 'How are Power and Unfreedom Related?', in Laborde and Maynor 2008.

---, 2011a, 'Respect and the Basis of Equality', Ethics, 121: 538-71.

---, 2011b, 'The Myth of "Merely Formal Freedom"', Journal of Political Philosophy, 19: 486-95, Reprinted in S. Cahn and R. B. Talisse (eds.),Political Philosophy in the Twenty-first Century. Essential Essays, Boulder CO.: Westview Press, 2013.

---, 2015, 'Value-freeness and Value-neutrality in the Analysis of Political Concepts', in D. Sobel, P. Vallentyne and S. Wall (eds.), Oxford Studies in Political Philosophy (Volume 1), 279-305.

Carter, I. and Kramer, M. H., 2008, 'How Changes in One's Preferences Can Affect One's Freedom (and How They Cannot): A Reply to Dowding and van Hees', Economics and Philosophy, 2008.

Christman, J., 1991, 'Liberalism and Individual Positive Freedom', Ethics, 101: 343-59.

---, 2005, 'Saving Positive Freedom', Political Theory, 33: 79-88.

---, 2009, The Politics of Persons. Individual Autonomy and Socio-historical Selves, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Christman, J. (ed.), 1989, The Inner Citadel: Essays on Individual Autonomy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Cohen, G. A., 1988, History, Labour and Freedom: Themes from Marx, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1991, Capitalism, Freedom and the Proletariat, in Miller 1991.

---, 1995, Self-Ownership, Freedom and Equality, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2011, 'Freedom and Money', in G. A. Cohen, On the Currency of Egalitarian Justice and Other Essays in Political Philosophy, ed. M. Otsuka, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press.

Cohen, M., 1960, 'Berlin and the Liberal Tradition', Philosophical Quarterly, 10, pp. 216-27.

Crocker, L., 1980, Positive Liberty, London: Nijhoff.

Day, J. P., 1970, 'On Liberty and the Real Will', Philosophy, 45: 177-92, reprinted in Day 1987.

---, 1987, Liberty and Justice, London: Croom Helm.

De Wispelaere, J. and Casassas, D., 2014, 'A Life of One's Own: Republican Freedom and Disability', Disability and Society, 29: 402-16.

Dimova-Cookson, M., 2003, 'A New Scheme of Positive and Negative Freedom: Reconstructing T. H. Green on Freedom', Political Theory, 31: 508-32.

Dowding, K. and van Hees, M., 2007, 'Counterfactual Success and Negative Freedom', Economics and Philosophy, 23: 141-162.

Dworkin, G., 1988, The Theory and Practice of Autonomy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Dworkin, R., 1977, Taking Rights Seriously, London: Duckworth.

---, 2011, Justice for Hedgehogs, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Flathman, R., 1987, The Philosophy and Politics of Freedom, Chicago: Chicago University Press.

Garnett, M., 2007, 'Ignorance, Incompetence and the Concept of Liberty', Journal of Political Philosophy, 15: 428-46.

---, 2016, 'Value-neutrality and the Ranking of Opportunity Sets', Economics and Philosophy, 32: 99-119.

Gibbs, B., 1976, Freedom and Liberation, London: Chatto and Windus.

Goodin, R. E. and Jackson, F., 2007, 'Freedom from Fear', Philosophy and Public Affairs, 35: 249-65

Gorr, M., 1989, Coercion, Freedom and Exploitation, New York: Peter Lang.

Grant, C., 2013, 'Freedom and Oppression', Politics, Philosophy and Economics, 12: 413-25.

Gray, J., 1980, 'On Negative and Positive Liberty', Political Studies, 28: 507-26.

---, 1995, Isaiah Berlin, London: HarperCollins.

Green, T. H., 1895, Lectures on the Principles of Political Obligation, London: Longmans, Green.

Hayek, F. A. von, 1960, The Constitution of Liberty, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

---, 1982, Law, Legislation and Liberty, London: Routledge.

Hees, M. van, 2000, Legal Reductionism and Freedom, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Hindricks, F., 2008, 'The Freedom of Collective Agents', Journal of Political Philosophy, 16: 165-83.

Hirschmann, N. J., 2003, The Subject of Liberty: Toward a Feminist Theory of Freedom, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press.

Kramer, M. H., 2003, The Quality of Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2008, 'Liberty and Domination', in Laborde and Maynor 2008.

Kristjánsson, K., 1996, Social Freedom: The Responsibility View, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Laborde, C. and Maynor, J. (eds.), 2008, Republicanism and Political Theory, Oxford: Blackwell.

Lang, G., 2012, 'Invigilating Republican Liberty', Philosophical Quarterly, 62: 273-93.

Larmore, C., 2004, 'Liberal and Republican Conceptions of Freedom', in Weinstock and Nadeau 2004.

Lovett, F., 2010, A General Theory of Domination and Justivce, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

List, C. and Valentini, L., 2016, 'Freedom as Independence', Ethics, 126: 1043-74.

MacCallum, G. C. Jr., 1967, 'Negative and Positive Freedom', Philosophical Review, 76: 312-34, reprinted in Miller 1991.

Macpherson, C. B., 1973, Berlin's Division of Liberty, in C. B. Macpherson,Democratic Theory: Essays in Retrieval, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Miller, D., 1983, 'Constraints on Freedom', Ethics, 94: 66-86. Partial reprint in 2nd ed. of Miller 1991.

Milne, A. J. M., 1968, Freedom and Rights, London: George Allen and Unwin.

Morriss, P., 2012, 'What is Freedom if it is Not Power?', Theoria, 59: 1-25.

Nelson, E., 2005, 'Liberty: One Concept Too Many?', Political Theory, 33: 58-78.

Nozick, R., 1974, Anarchy, State and Utopia, New York: Basic Books.

Oppenheim, F. E., 1961, Dimensions of Freedom: An Analysis, New York: St. Martin's Press.

---, 1981, Political Conceps: A Reconstruction, Oxford, Blackwell.

Pansardi, P., 2012, 'Power and Freedom: Opposite or Equivalent Concepts?', Theoria, 59: 26-44.

Pattanaik, P. and Xu, Y., 1990, 'On Ranking Opportunity Sets in Terms of Freedom of Choice', Recherches Economiques de Louvain, 56: 383-90.

---, 1998, 'On Preference and Freedom', Theory and Decision, 44: 173-98.

Pettit, P., 1997, Republicanism: A Theory of Freedom and Government, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2001, A Theory of Freedom, Cambridge: Polity Press.

---, 2008a, 'Freedom and Probability. A Comment on Goodin and Jackson', Philosophy and Public Affairs, 36: 206-20.

---, 2008b, 'Republican Freedom: Three Axioms, Four Theorems', in Laborde and Maynor 2008.

---, 2011, 'The Instability of Freedom as Non-Interference. The Case of Isaiah Berlin', Ethics, 121: 693-716.

---, 2012, On the People's Terms. A Republican Theory and Model of Democracy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2014, Just Freedom. A Moral Compass for a Complex World, New York: Norton.

Pitkin, H., 1988, 'Are Freedom and Liberty Twins?', Political Theory, 16: 523-52.

Plamenatz, J., 1938, Consent, Freedom and Political Obligation, London: Oxford University Press.

Rawls, J., 1971, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press.

---, 1991, Political Liberalism, New York: Columbia University Press.

Ricciardi, M., 2007, 'Berlin on Liberty', in G. Crowder and H. Hardy (eds.), The One and the Many. Reading Isaiah Berlin, Amherst NY: Prometheus Books.

Rothbard, M. N., 1982, The Ethics of Liberty, Atlantic Highlands: Humanities Press.

Ruggiero, G. de, 1925, Storia del liberalismo europeo, Bari: Laterza, English R. G. Collingwood,The History of European Liberalism, London: Oxford University Press 1927.

Sen, A., 1985, 'Well-being, Agency and Freedom', Journal of Philosophy, 82: 169-221.

---, 1988, 'Freedom of Choice: Concept and Content', European Economic Review, 32: 269-94.

---, 1992, Inequality Reexamined, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2002, Rationality and Freedom, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Schmidt, A., 2015, 'Why Animals have an Interest in Freedom', Historical Social Research, 40: 92-109.

Sharon, A., 2016, 'Domination and the Rule of Law', in D. Sobel, P. Vallentyne and S. Wall (eds.), Oxford Studies in Political Philosophy (Volume 2), New York: Oxford University Press.

---, forthcoming, 'Abilities and the Sources of Unfreedom', Ethics, 126.

Shnayderman, R., 2012, 'Liberal vs. Republican Notions of Freedom', Political Studies, 60: 44-58.

---, 2013, 'Social Freedom, Moral Responsibility, Actions and Omissions', Philosophical Quarterly, 63: 716-39.

---, 2016, 'Ian Carter's Non-evaluative Theory of Freedom and Diversity. A Critique', Social Choice and Welfare, 46: 39-55.

Skinner, Q., 1998, Liberty before Liberalism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2002, 'A Third Concept of Liberty', Proceedings of the British Academy, 117(237): 237-68.

---, 2008, 'Freedom as the Absence of Arbitrary Power', in Laborde and Maynor 2008.

Steiner, H., 1974-5, 'Individual Liberty', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 75: 33-50, reprinted in Miller 1991.

---, 1983, 'How Free: Computing Personal Liberty', in A. Phillips Griffiths, Of Liberty, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1994, An Essay on Rights, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2001, 'Freedom and Bivalence', in Carter and Ricciardi 2001.

Sugden, R., 1998, 'The Metric of Opportunity', Economics and Philosophy, 14: 307-337.

---, 2003, 'Opportunity as a Space for Individuality: its Value, and the Impossibility of Measuring it', Ethics, 113(4): 783-809.

---, 2006, 'What We Desire, What We Have Reason to Desire, Whatever We Might Desire: Mill and Sen on the Value of Opportunity', Utilitas, 18: 33-51.

Taylor, C., 1979, 'What's Wrong with Negative Liberty', in A. Ryan (ed.), The Idea of Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press, reprinted in Miller 1991.

Taylor, M., 1982, Community, Anarchy and Liberty, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Van Parijs, P., 1995, Real Freedom for All, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Waldron, J., 1993, 'Homelessness and the Issue of Freedom', in J. Waldron, Liberal Rights. Collected Papers 1981-1991, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Weinstock, D. and Nadeau, C. (eds.), 2004, Republicanism: History, Theory and Practice, London: Frank Cass.

Wendt, F., 2011, 'Slaves, Prisoners, and Republican Freedom', Res Publica, 17: 175-92.

Williams, B., 2001, 'From Freedom to Liberty: The Construction of a Political Value', Philosophy and Public Affairs, 30: 3-26.

Young, R., 1986, Autonomy. Beyond Negative and Positive Liberty, New York: St. Martin's Press.

Zimmerman, D., 2002, 'Taking Liberties: the Perils of "Moralizing" Freedom and Coercion in Social Theory and Practice', Social Theory and Practice, 28: 577-609.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Imagine you are driving a car through town, and you come to a fork in the road. You turn left, but no one was forcing you to go one way or the other. Next you come to a crossroads. You turn right, but no one was preventing you from going left or straight on.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the concept of rights as entitlements to perform actions or be in certain states, and their central role in shaping modern governance, laws, and moral perspectives.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Categories of Rights

A right to life, a right to choose; a right to vote, to work, to strike; a right to one phone call, to dissolve parliament, to operate a forklift, to asylum, to equal treatment before the law, to feel proud of what one has done; a right to exist, to sentence an offender to death, to launch a nuclear first strike, to castle kingside, to a distinct genetic identity; a right to believe one's eyes, to pronounce the couple husband and wife, to be left alone, to go to hell in one's own way.

We encounter assertions of rights as we encounter sounds: persistently and in great variety. To make sense of this profusion of assertions we can class rights together by common attributes. Rights can be categorized, for example, according to:

Who is alleged to have the right: Children's rights, animal rights, workers' rights, states' rights, the rights of peoples.

What actions or states or objects the asserted right pertains to: Rights of free expression, to pass judgment; rights of privacy, to remain silent; property rights, bodily rights.

Why the rightholder (allegedly) has the right: Moral rights are grounded in moral reasons, legal rights derive from the laws of the society, customary rights exist by local convention.

How the asserted right can be affected by the rightholder's actions: The inalienable right to life, the forfeitable right to liberty, and the waivable right that a promise be kept.

Many of these categories have sub-categories. For instance, natural rights are the sub-class of moral rights that humans have because of their nature. Or again, the rights of political speech are a subclass of the rights of free expression.

The study of particular rights is primarily an investigation into how such categories and sub-categories overlap. There has been much discussion, for example, of whether human rights are natural rights, whether the right to privacy is a legal right, and whether the legal right to life is a forfeitable right. (For the central jurisprudential debate over the relation between legal and moral rights, see legal positivism, natural law theories, and the nature of law.) Sometimes theorists will also do analytical work on a single subcategory: for example, Steiner (2013) questions whether inalienable or unwaivable rights are logically possible, and Andersson (2013) discusses who moral rightholders are.

2. The Analysis of Rights

Categorization sorts the profusion of rights assertions. To understand the exact meaning of any assertion of a right, we need to understand more precisely how rights are constructed and what they do.

An analysis of rights has two parts: a description of the internal structure of rights (their form), and a description of what rights do for those who hold them (their function). The Hohfeldian system for describing the form of rights is widely accepted, although there are scholarly quarrels about its details. Which theory gives the best account of the function of rights has been much more contentious; we turn to that debate in section 3.

2.1 The Form of Rights: The Hohfeldian Analytical System

Analysis reveals that most familiar rights, such as the right to free expression or the right of private property, have a complex internal structure. Such rights are ordered arrangements of basic components, much in the same way that most molecules are ordered arrangements of chemical elements. The four basic components of rights are known as "the Hohfeldian incidents" after Wesley Hohfeld (1879-1918), the American legal theorist who discovered them. These four basic "elements" are the privilege, the claim, the power, and the immunity. Each of these Hohfeldian incidents has a distinctive logical form, and the incidents fit together in characteristic ways to create complex "molecular" rights. Once one knows the Hohfeldian system, one can analyze precisely what any assertion of a right might mean.

2.1.1 Privileges (or Liberties)

You have a right to pick up a shell that you find on the beach. This right is a privilege:

A has a privilege to φ if and only if A has no duty not to φ.

To say that you have a right to pick up the shell is to say that you have no duty not to pick it up. You will not be violating any duty not to pick up the shell should you decide to do so. Similarly your right to sit in an empty seat in the cinema, and your right to paint your bedroom red, are also privileges. Privilege-rights mark out what their bearer has no duty not to do. When US Presidents invoke "executive privilege," they deny an assertion that they have a duty not to withhold evidence: they assert a Hohfeldian privilege. Similarly, a license (to drive, to perform surgery, to kill) endows its holder with a privilege to engage in the licensed activity. Someone with a license to drive has no duty not to operate (specified kinds of) motor vehicles (in particular ways).

(Some writers on rights have preferred to speak of "liberties" instead of "privileges" (e.g., Steiner 1994, 59-60). Others have given these two terms different definitions (e.g., Thomson 1990, 53-55). To avoid confusion, this entry will always use "privilege" and never "liberty" to refer to the incident defined above.)

2.1.2 Claims

A contract between employer and employee confers on the employee a right to be paid her wages. This right is a claim:

The employee has a claim that the employer pays her her wages, which means that the employer has a duty to the employee to pay those wages. As seen in the definition and the example, every claim-right correlates to a duty in (at least) one duty-bearer. What is distinctive about the claim-right is that a duty-bearer's duty is "directed at" or "owed to" the right-holder. What explains the "direction" of directed duties has been the subject of controversy, discussed in section 2.2.3.

Some claim-rights exist independently of voluntary actions like signing a contract; and some claim-rights correspond to duties in more than one agent. For example, a child's claim-right against abuse exists independently of anyone's actions, and the child's claim-right correlates to a duty in every other person not to abuse him (in legal terms, the claim right is in rem). This example of the child's right also illustrates how some claim-rights can require duty-bearers to refrain from performing some action (i.e., that "phi" can be a negative verb such as "not abuse him"). Bodily rights and property rights are paradigmatic rights with claim-rights at their core.

2.1.3 Powers

Privileges and claims define what Hart called "primary rules": rules requiring that people perform or refrain from performing particular actions (Hart 1961). Indeed the primary rules for all physical actions are properly analyzed as privileges and claims. Were we to know all privileges and claims concerning physical actions, we would know for every possible physical action whether that action was permitted, required, or forbidden.

Two further Hohfeldian incidents define what Hart called "secondary rules": rules that specify how agents can introduce and change primary rules.

The Hohfeldian power is the incident that enables agents to alter primary rules:

A has a power if and only if A has the ability to alter her own or another's Hohfeldian incidents.

A ship's captain has the power-right to order a midshipman to scrub the deck. The captain's exercise of this power changes the sailor's normative situation: it imposes a new duty upon the sailor and so annuls one of the sailor's Hohfeldian privileges (not to scrub the deck). Similarly, a promisor exercises a power-right to create in the promisee a claim that the promisor will perform a certain action. The promisor's exercise of her power-right to promise creates in the promisee a claim that the promisor do what she promised to do. Or again, a neighbor waives his claim that you not enter his property by inviting you into his home, thus endowing you with a corresponding privilege. Ordering, promising, waiving, abandoning, consenting, selling, and sentencing are all examples of acts by which a rightholder exercises a power to change his own Hohfeldian incidents or those of another.

Powers can alter not only "first-order" privileges and claims, but "higher-order" incidents as well (Sumner 1987, 31). An admiral, for example, has the power-right to relieve a captain of her power-right to command a ship. Power-rights to alter the authority of others are, as we will see, definitive of all developed legal and political systems.

2.1.4 Immunities

The fourth and final Hohfeldian incident is the immunity. When A has the ability to alter B's Hohfeldian incidents, then A has a power. When A lacks the ability to alter B 's Hohfeldian incidents, then B has an immunity:

B has an immunity if and only if A lacks the ability to alter B 's Hohfeldian incidents.

The United States Congress lacks the ability within the Constitution to impose upon American citizens a duty to kneel daily before a cross. Since the Congress lacks a power, the citizens have an immunity. This immunity is a core element of an American citizen's right to religious freedom. Similarly, witnesses in court have a right not to be ordered to incriminate themselves, and civil servants have a right not to be dismissed when a new government comes to power. All of these rights are immunities, corresponding to an absence of a power in some other party to alter the rightholder's normative situation in some way.

2.1.5 Opposites and Correlatives

Hohfeld arranged the four incidents in tables of "opposites" and "correlatives" so as to display the logical structure of his system. In order to fill out the tables he added some further terminology. For instance, if a person A has a claim, then A lacks a "no-claim" (a no-claim is the opposite of a claim). And if a person A has a power, then some person B has a "liability" (a liability is the correlative of a power).

2.1.6 Molecular Rights

Each of the "atomic" incidents-the privilege, claim, power, and immunity-can be a right when it occurs in isolation. And as mentioned above these atomic incidents also bond together in characteristic ways to form complex rights. Following, for example, is part of the "molecular" structure of the property right that you have over your computer:

Part of the "Molecular" Structure of a Property Right

In the figure, the "first-order" rights are your legal rights directly over your property-in this case, your computer. The privilege on this first level entitles you to use your computer. The claim correlates to a duty in every other person not to use your computer.

The "second-order" rights are your legal rights concerning the alteration of these first-order rights. You have several powers with respect to your claim-you may waive the claim (granting others permission to touch the computer), annul the claim (abandoning the computer as your property), or transfer the claim (making the computer into someone else's property). Also on the second order, your immunity prevents others from altering your first-order claim over your computer. Your immunity, that is, prevents others from waiving, annulling, or transferring your claim over your computer. The four incidents together constitute a significant portion of your property right.

Of course all of these incidents are qualified: you have no privilege to use your computer as a weapon, or to use your computer to hack into someone else's machine; and your immunity may not entirely block out the state's power of expropriation (if for example the computer becomes evidence in a criminal case). These qualifications to the incidents carve the contours of your property right, but they do not affect its basic shape.

There may also be more incidents associated with ownership than shown in the figure above. Wellman (1985, 1995) describes each right as having a "defining core" surrounded by "associated elements" which may be present or absent in a particular case. Your property right, for instance, may also be protected by a qualified third-order immunity against the government altering your second-order rights over your property (for example, under the "Takings Clause" of the Fifth Amendment to the US Constitution the government cannot simply annul your right to sell a parcel of your land).

2.1.7 Active and Passive Rights

The distinction between active and passive rights (Lyons 1970) maps neatly onto the Hohfeldian incidents. The privilege and the power are "active" rights that concern their holders' own actions. The claim and the immunity are "passive" rights that regulate the actions of others. Active rights are signaled by statements of the form " A has a right to φ"; while passive rights are signaled by statements of the form " A has a right that B φ" (in both of these formulas, "φ" is an active verb).

A naval captain has an (active) privilege-right to walk the decks and an (active) power-right to order that the ship set sail. A player in a chess tournament has a (passive) claim-right that his opponent not distract him, and a professor has a (passive) immunity-right that her university not fire her for publishing unpopular views.

2.1.8 Negative and Positive Rights

A distinction between negative and positive rights is popular among some normative theorists, especially those with a bent toward libertarianism. The holder of a negative right is entitled to non-interference, while the holder of a positive right is entitled to provision of some good or service. A right against assault is a classic example of a negative right, while a right to welfare assistance is a prototypical positive right (Narveson 2001).

Since both negative and positive rights are passive rights, some rights are neither negative nor positive. Privileges and powers cannot be negative rights; and privileges, powers, and immunities cannot be positive rights. The (privilege-) right to enter a building, and the (power-) right to enter into a binding agreement, are neither negative nor positive.

It is sometimes said that negative rights are easier to satisfy than positive rights. Negative rights can be respected simply by each person refraining from interfering with each other, while it may be difficult or even impossible to fulfill everyone's positive rights if the sum of people's claims outstrips the resources available.

However, when it comes to the enforcement of rights, this difference disappears. Funding a legal system that enforces citizens' negative rights against assault may require more resources than funding a welfare system that realizes citizens' positive rights to assistance. As Holmes and Sunstein (1999, 43) put it, in the context of citizens' rights to state enforcement, all rights are positive. Moreover, the point is often made that the moral urgency of securing positive rights may be just as great as the moral urgency of securing negative rights (Shue 1996). Whatever is the justificatory basis for ascribing rights-autonomy, need, or something else-there might be just as strong a moral case for fulfilling a person's right to adequate nutrition as there is for protecting that person's right not to be assaulted.

2.2 The Function of Rights: The Will Theory and the Interest Theory

2.2.1 Conceptual Analysis versus Definitional Stipulation

All rights can be represented by Hohfeldian diagrams, like the diagram of the property right "molecule" above. (Halpin 2017) However, some diagrams of Hohfeldian incidents that we can construct do not correspond to any right. To take a simple example from Hart (1982, 191-92), your city council lacks the Hohfeldian power to award you a pension; so by definition you have a Hohfeldian immunity against your city council awarding you a pension. Yet it would be odd to say that you have a right against your city council awarding you a pension. You thus have an immunity, but not a right. Not all (collections of) Hohfeldian incidents are rights; it is only those (collections of) Hohfeldian incidents that have a certain function (or perhaps certain functions) that are rights. To take an analogy: all engagement rings are rings, but only rings with a certain function are engagement rings. What, then, is the function of rights?

The question of the function of rights is the question of what rights do for those who hold them. Before discussing the two major positions on this issue, we can survey some statements that theorists have made that may appear to be describing which Hohfeldian incidents are rights:

To have a right is to have a "valid claim." (Feinberg 1970, 257)

"In the strictest sense" all rights are claims. (Hohfeld 1919, 36)

"Rights are built around the claims of patients on an agent." (Walen 2019, 58)

"A right, in the most important sense, is the conjunction of a [privilege] and a claim-right." (Mackie 1979, 169)

"Rights are permissions rather than requirements. Rights tell us what the bearer is at liberty to do." (Louden 1983, 95)

"No one ever has a right to do something; he only has a right that some one else shall do (or refrain from doing) something." (Williams 1968, 125)

"A person who says to another 'I have a right to do it' is not saying that ... it is not wrong to do it. He is claiming that the other has a duty not to interfere." (Raz 1994, 275)

"A right is an established way of acting." (Martin 1993, 1)

"It is hard to think of rights except as capable of exercise." (Hart 1982, 185)

"A right is a power which a creature ought to possess." (Plamenatz 1938, 82)

"All rights are essentially property rights." (Steiner 1994, 93)

"Rights are themselves property, things we own." (Feinberg 1973, 75)

At first, this survey might remind one the proverb of the blind men, each of whom is feeling a different part of an elephant. However, we should distinguish between two different aims that a theorist might have when she makes a statement of the form "All rights are x." A theorist may be attempting to analyze the meaning of our ordinary concept of rights, or she may be stipulating a definition of "rights" within her own ethical, political or legal theory.

Consider, for example, Mill's famous assertion in Utilitarianism:

When we call anything a person's right, we mean that he has a valid claim on society to protect him in the possession of it, either by the force of law, or by that of education and opinion... To have a right, then, is, I conceive, to have something which society ought to defend me in the possession of. (Mill 1861, 54)

As an analysis of the everyday concept of a right, Mill's assertion would be weak. For example, for centuries many people have asserted that God has the right to command man; yet presumably no one who asserts such a right would commit to the idea that society ought to defend God in the possession of the power to command. To take another example, there seems nothing incoherent in the thought that individuals have a right not to be protected by society; yet this thought could not make sense on Mill's characterization of what rights are. (On Mill, see also Hart 1982, 100-04.)

Mill's statement is better seen not as an analysis of the everyday concept, but as a stipulative definition of the term "right." Mill stipulates this particular definition because the idea of "those possessive relations that are valuable enough that it is worthwhile for society to institute sanctions to protect them" is an idea that works well within his larger utilitarian theory. So where Mill's statement departs from the common understanding of rights, we should charitably read Mill as prescribing, instead of describing, usage. Many authors' pronouncements about rights are charitably interpreted as these kinds of exercises in stipulation, rather than as attempts to analyze the ordinary concept of rights.

To take an example from the scholarly literature, it is not uncommon to encounter a general statement that all rights are (or at least include) claim-rights (see, e.g., Raz 1986, 166, 173-75; Steiner, 1994, 55; Kramer, Steiner and Simmonds 1999, 9-14). These "all rights are claims" statements are better interpreted as stipulative, rather than as analyses of common usage. "All rights are claims" positions cannot recognize, for example, the rights in the Hobbesian state of nature, in which each person has unlimited privilege-rights of self-defense yet no claim-rights against attack. Neither could an "all rights are claims" theory recognize that the US Constitution gives Congress the sole (power-) right to declare war. The statement that rights are claims is prescriptive for, not descriptive of, usage.

Occasionally a theorist will say that she is presenting neither an analysis of the ordinary concept of a right, nor merely stipulating a new meaning for the term "right," but is rather offering some third type of characterization. For instance, Wellman (1995, 136) says that his narrow specification of "a right" is needed to provide "a clearer and more revealing map of the law." Raz (1986, 166) frames a contrasting "philosophical definition" that, he says, "illuminates a tradition of political and moral discourse in which different theories offer incompatible views of what rights there are and why." Whether there is room for such a third category of "philosophical definition," which goes beyond both ordinary analysis and stipulation, is contested (Wenar 2008).

2.2.2 The Will Theory and the Interest Theory

There are two main theories of the function of rights: the will theory and the interest theory. Each theory presents itself as capturing an ordinary understanding of what rights do for those who hold them. Which theory offers the better account of the functions of rights has been the subject of spirited dispute, literally for ages.

Will theorists maintain that a right makes the rightholder "a small scale sovereign" (Hart 1982, 183). More specifically, a will theorist asserts that the function of a right is to give its holder control over another's duty. Your property right diagrammed in the figure above is a right, says the will theorist, because it contains a power to waive (or annul, or transfer) others' duties. You are the "sovereign" of your computer, in that you may permit others to touch it or not at your discretion. Similarly a promisee is "sovereign" over the action of the promisor: a promisee has a right because she has the power to waive (or annul) the promisor's duty to keep the promise. In Hohfeldian terms, will theorists assert that every right includes a Hohfeldian power over a claim. In colloquial terms, will theorists believe that all rights confer control over others' duties to act in particular ways.

Interest theorists disagree. Interest theorists maintain that the function of a right is to further the right-holder's interests. An owner has a right, according to the interest theorist, not because owners have choices, but because the ownership makes owners better off. A promisee has a right because promisees have some interest in the performance of the promise, or (alternatively) some interest in being able to form voluntary bonds with others. Your rights, the interest theorist says, are the Hohfeldian incidents you have that are good for you.

The contest between will-based and interest-based theories of the function of rights has been waged for hundreds of years. Influential will theorists include Kant, Savigny, Hart, Kelsen, Wellman, and Steiner. Important interest theorists include Bentham, Ihering, Austin, Lyons, MacCormick, Raz, and Kramer. Each theory has stronger and weaker points as an account of what rights do for rightholders.

The will theory captures the powerful link between rights and normative control. To have a right is to have the ability to determine what others may and may not do, and so to exercise authority over a certain domain of affairs. The resonant connection between rights and authority (the authority to control what others may do) is for will theorists a matter of definition.

However, the will theory's account of the function of rights struggles to explain many rights that most think there are. Within the will theory, there can be no such thing as an unwaivable right: a right over which its holder has no power. Yet intuitively it would appear that unwaivable rights are some of the most important rights that we have: consider, for example, the unwaivable right not to be enslaved (MacCormick 1977, 197). Moreover, since the will theorist holds that all rights confer sovereignty, she cannot acknowledge that beings incapable of exercising sovereignty have rights. Within the will theory, it is impossible for incompetents like infants, animals, and comatose adults to have rights. Yet we ordinarily would not doubt that these incompetents can have rights, for example the right not to be tortured (MacCormick 1982, 154-66). Will theories also have difficulties explaining bare privilege-rights (such as in the Hobbesian state of nature), which are not rights of authority over others.

The interest theory is more capacious than the will theory. It can accommodate both unwaivable rights (the possession of which may be good for their holders) and the rights of incompetents (who have interests that rights can protect). The interest theory also taps into the deeply plausible connection between holding rights and being better off.

However, the interest theory is also misaligned with any ordinary understanding of rights. We commonly accept that people can have interests in x without having a right to x; and contrariwise that people can have a right to x without having interests sufficient to explain this. In the first category are "third party beneficiaries" (Lyons 1994, 36-46). You may have a powerful interest in the lottery paying out for your spouse's winning ticket, but you have no right that the lottery pays out to your spouse. In the second category are many of the rights of office-holders and role-bearers (Jones 1994, 31-32; Wenar 2013b). Whatever interest a judge may have in sentencing a convict to life in prison, the judge's interests cannot justify ascribing to her the power to make such a dramatic change in the convict's normative situation.

The difficulties of the interest theory have often been noted in Raz's version, which is perhaps the most prominent. In Raz's account, "X has a right if X can have rights, and, other things being equal, an aspect of X's well-being (his interest) is a sufficient reason for holding some other person(s) to be under a duty" (Raz 1986, 166).

Yet there appear to be many rights for which the interests of the putative right-holder are not sufficient to hold other person(s) to be under a duty. For example, Raz himself notices that the interest of a journalist in protecting his sources is not itself sufficient reason to hold others to be under a duty not to pressure the journalist to reveal his sources (Raz 1986, 179, 247-8). Raz says that it is rather the interests of the general public in an active and independent media that grounds the journalist's right to protect his sources. Yet as Kamm then objects to Raz, "If the satisfaction of the interests of others is the reason why the journalist gets a right to have his interest protected, his interest is not sufficient to give rise to the duty of noninterference with his speech" (Kamm 2002, 485; for a defense of Raz, see Pallikkathayil 2016).

Nor does this difficulty only affect the rights of office-holders like journalists; Raz admits that weighty rights such as the rights of free expression and freedom of contract are not justified solely by the interests of the individual citizens who hold them, but also by the ways that these rights further the common good (Raz 1995, 30-43, 131). Or again, parents may have the right to receive child benefit payments from the state, but here only the interests of the children, and not the interests of the parents, could be sufficient to hold the state to be under a duty.

Raz's version of the interest theory continues to be the most widely-cited account of the function of rights, despite such concerns that are now commonplace in the specialist literature. Kramer's version of the interest theory, which specifies necessary conditions for holding a legal right, is the major contemporary alternative (Kramer 2013, 2017).

Will theorists and interest theorists have developed their positions with increasing technical sophistication. The issues that divide the two camps are clearly defined, and the debates between them are often intense. (Kramer, Simmonds, and Steiner 1998, Van Duffel 2012a, Kramer 2013, McBride 2017, Frydrych 2018) The seemingly interminable debate between these two major theories has driven some to conclude that the debate itself rests on the mistaken premise that there is a single concept of a right for which these theories provide rival analyses (Van Duffel 2012b, Hayward 2013). The deadlock has encouraged other theorists to develop alternative positions on the function of rights.

"Demand" theories fill out the idea that, as Feinberg (1973, 58-59) puts it, "A right is something a man can stand on, something that can be demanded or insisted upon without embarrassment or shame." For Darwall (2006, 18), to have a claim-right, "includes a second-personal authority to resist, complain, remonstrate, and perhaps use coercive measures of other kinds, including, perhaps, to gain compensation if the right is violated." On Skorupski's account (2010, XII.6, XIV.2-3) rights specify what the right-holder may demand of others, where "demand" implies the permissibility of compelling performance or exacting compensation for non-performance. Like the will theory, these demand theories center on the agency of the right-holder. They do not turn on the right-holder's power over the duty of another, so they do not share the will theory's difficulty with unwaivable rights. They may, however, have more difficulties in explaining power-rights. Demand theories also share the will-theory's challenges in explaining the rights of incompetents, and in explaining privilege-rights.

Gilbert (2018) develops not a demand theory of rights, but a theory of a special class of rights that she calls "demand-rights." In her formulation, "X has a demand-right against Y if and only if X has the standing to demand of Y that Y φ." (2018, 70) Gilbert's paradigm of a demand-right is a promissory right: the promisee has the standing to demand performance from the promisor, meaning that the promisee has the authority to demand that the promisor do what she promised to do. Gilbert explains this standing to demand in terms of her theory of joint commitment (2013).

Other analyses of what rights do for rightholders are varied. Scanlon (2003, 2013) defends the position that rights are constraints on the discretion of individuals or institutions to act. Sreenivasan (2005, 2010) puts forward a "hybrid" analysis of the claim-right that grafts the interest theory onto the will theory: here the function of the claim-right is to endow the right-holder with the amount of control over another's duty that advances her interests. Wenar (2005) abandons the idea that all rights have any single function, and sets out a "several functions" theory on which rights perform six distinct functions. Wenar (2013b) then sets out a "kind desire" theory of claim-rights, which turns on what role-bearers like journalists and parents want as such, and more generally on what beings (like humans) want qua the kinds of beings that they are.

Scanlon's analysis is criticized in Gilbert (2004), Wenar (2013a); Sreenivasan's and Wenar's analyses are critiqued in Kramer and Steiner (2007), May (2012). Kramer's, Sreenivasan's and Wenar's theories are criticized and developed in essays by Kramer, May, Penner, Sreenivasan, McBride, and Cruft in McBride (2017); Kramer's theory is modified in Kurki (2018); Wenar's theory is defended in Schaab (2018).

2.2.3 The Direction of a Duty

Recently, theorists have attempted to make progress on the question of the function of rights by scrutinizing the claim-right in particular, and by shifting attention onto the duty that corresponds to it. As above, on the standard account what is distinctive about the claim-right is that a duty-bearer's duty is "directed at" or "owed to" the right-holder. (The promisor, for example, owes a duty of performance to the promisee.) Yet what could account for the directionality of such "directed duties"? (May 2015)

After all, not all duties are directed to specific others. For example, the moral duty of affluent people to give some of their wealth to charity is not owed to any specific person. And "directed duties" appear to have special normative significance. The violation of any duty may be wrong (it may be wrong for a rich person to give nothing to charity). But the violation of a directed duty is more than just a wrong: it is a wronging of the being to whom the duty is owed (Thompson 2004). And unlike a mere wrong, the wronging of some being calls, ceteris paribus, for apology and compensation. Cruft (2013) further argues that the violation of any duty owed to a being is disrespectful of that being. The question is what could possibly account for the extra significance of the duties that have direction. (Cornell 2015 argues against the thesis that one can wrong only those to whom one has directed duties.)

Darwall (2012) argues that his second-personal theory of morality best explains the relation between duty-bearer and right-holder. (Yet see Vankieken 2019.) Cruft (2019) agrees that the directed duty-bearer is required by the nature of her duty to conceive of the right-holder second-personally, as "you, on whom I act." Cruft then distinguishes natural and human rights, which are grounded largely by the good of the right-holder, from conventional rights, which are grounded by how they serve people or values besides the right-holder. Cruft argues that most property rights are conventional, yet seem to be natural in such a dangerously ideological way that we should speak of them as not rights at all, but rather merely as involving certain controllable duties of others.

3. The History of the Language of Rights

Intellectual historians have disputed the origins of rights. These debates are sometimes framed in terms of when "the concept of a right" emerged. Yet insofar as it is really the emergence of the concept of a right that is at issue, the answer lies beyond the competence of the intellectual historian and within the domain of the anthropologist. Even the most primitive social order must include rules specifying that certain individuals or groups have special permission to perform certain actions. Moreover, even the most rudimentary human communities must have rules specifying that some are entitled to tell others what they must do. Such rules ascribe rights. The genesis of the concept of a right was simultaneous with reflective awareness of such social norms, however our forebears decided to describe those norms.

The more productive characterization of the debate within intellectual history concerns when a word (or phrase) appeared that has a meaning close to the meaning of our modern word. This debate turns on when in history the pre-modern "objective" sense of "right" came also to bear our modern, "subjective" sense of "a right."

"Right" in its older, objective sense means "what is just" or "what is fair" (Finnis 1980, 206). Aristotle uses dikaion, for example, to indicate that a society is "rightly ordered": that it displays the correct structure of human relationships. "Right" in this objective sense can also be attributed to individuals. The Roman jurist Ulpian, for instance, held that justice means rendering each his right ( ius). In this sense, a person's "right" is what is due to him given his role or status. This objective sense of "right" is not the same as our modern idea of "a right." For instance, Ulpian noted that the ius of a parricide was to be sewn into a sack of snakes and tossed into the Tiber (Tierney 1997, 16).

There has been a long and divisive scholarly inquiry into when our modern, subjective sense of "a right" became established as a meaning of some word or phrase. The history is uncertain partly because the ancient authors often used words imprecisely, and smeared their meanings across and beyond the Hohfeldian categories. The intellectual historians themselves have occasionally congested the discussion by taking different features of rights as definitive of the modern concept. Moreover, the scholarly debate has sometimes accepted over-optimistic assumptions about the sharpness of conceptual boundaries.

Nevertheless, two broad trends in the scholarly discussions have emerged. The first is to push the origins of a term indicating a modern, subjective sense of "a right" back further into history: from Locke to Hobbes to Grotius in the seventeenth century, then to Gerson in the fifteenth century, then to Ockham in the fourteenth, perhaps even to Gratian in the twelfth (Brett 1997, Tierney 1997, Siedentop 2014, Lisska and Tierney 2015). Donohue (2010) even argues that ius is used in a subjective sense throughout the works of the classical Roman jurists in the first century BCE to the third century CE.

The second and related trend has been to establish that terms referring to active rights (what we would call privilege-rights and power-rights) predate terms referring to passive rights (what we would call claim-rights and immunity-rights). It appears that the earliest medieval debates using recognizably modern rights-language, for instance, concerned topics such as whether the pope has a (power-) right to rule an earthly empire, and whether the poor have a (privilege-) right to take what they need from the surplus of the rich.

4. Rights and Freedom

Most rights entitle their holders to freedom in some sense; indeed holding a right can entail that one is free in one or more of a variety of senses. In the most general terms, the active incidents-the privilege and the power-entitle their holders to freedom to act in certain ways. The passive incidents-the claim and the immunity-often entitle their holders to freedom from undesirable actions or states.

We can be more specific. A single privilege-right makes its holder "free to" in the sense of non-forbiddenness. A spy with a security clearance, for instance, may have a privilege-right that means she is free to enter a highly classified facility of her own government. One can be free in this non-forbidden way without having the physical ability to do what one is free to do. The spy, for instance, still has "no duty not" to enter the classified facility even when she is languishing in a distant foreign prison. The actions that one is free to do in this sense may or may not be physically possible for one at the moment, but at least they are not disallowed by the relevant norms.

Someone who has a pair of privilege rights-no duty to perform the action, no duty not to perform the action-is free in an additional sense of having discretion over whether to perform the action or not. For example, you may be free to join a protest march, or not, as you like. This dual non-forbiddenness again does not imply physical ability. A rightholder may be permitted to perform or not perform some action, but this still does not mean that she is capable of performing the action that she is free to perform.

In contrast, the holder of a power-right does have an ability. This is the normative ability to exercise authority in a certain way. (Sumner 1987, 28) This normative ability confers freedom in a different sense. A judge is free to sentence a convicted criminal to prison. The judge is not merely allowed to sentence the prisoner: her power-right gives her the ability-that is, the authority-to do so. Her (power-) right makes her free to sentence in a way that non-judges are not free to sentence.

As for the passive rights, many claim-rights entitle their holders to be free from the physical interference or surveillance of others. Other claim-rights entitle their holders to be free from undesirable conditions like hunger or fear. Immunity-rights parallel claim-rights one level up. Immunity-rights make their holders free from the authority of others, and so entitle their holders to be free from conditions like tyranny or exploitation.

A legal system can be seen as a distribution of all of these varieties of freedom. Any legal system will set out rules specifying who is free to act in which ways, and who should be free from which unwanted actions and conditions. A developed legal system will also determine who has the authority (and so who is free) to interpret and enforce these rules.

More generally, any political constitution can be seen as a multi-leveled structure of rights that distributes authority over rules of conduct in a distinctive way. A democratic constitution, for example, may give voters the power to elect legislators, who have certain powers to enact laws, which the judiciary has certain powers to interpret, and the police have certain powers to enforce, leaving certain courses of conduct open as legal for citizens to pursue. The facts about who should be free to do what within any legal or political system, as well as the facts about who should be free from which actions and conditions, can be represented as complex, layered structures of rights-exponentially more complex than in the diagram of the property right above.

5. Rights and Reasons

5.1 Rights as Trumps

Though there are disputes over the function of rights and the history of rights language, most agree that rights have special normative force. The reasons that rights provide are particularly powerful or weighty reasons, which override reasons of other sorts. Dworkin's metaphor is of rights as "trumps" (Dworkin 1984). Rights permit their holders to act in certain ways, or give reasons to treat their holders in certain ways or permit their holders to act in certain ways, even if some social aim would be served by doing otherwise. As Mill wrote of the trumping power of the right to free expression: "If all mankind minus one were of one opinion, mankind would be no more justified in silencing that one person than he, if he had the power, would be in silencing mankind" (Mill 1859, 20).

How rights become imbued with this special normative force is a matter of ongoing scholarly inquiry. As Sreenivasan (2010) notes, a Hohfeldian claim-right in itself only entails the existence of a duty with a certain structure, and not a duty with a certain force. A has a claim against B if and only if B has a duty to A: in this definition it is the "direction" of B's duty (that it is owed to A) which correlates B's duty to A 's right; nothing is said in the definition about the duty's strength. Why "directed duties"-as above, those owed to an entity-have greater normative priority remains an open question: the only broad consensus is that they do. (See Thompson 2004 on "bipolar" judgments.)

Dworkin's metaphor suggests that rights trump non-right objectives, such as increasing national wealth. What of the priority of one right with respect to another? We can keep to the trumps metaphor while recognizing that some rights have a higher priority than others. Within the trump suit, a jack still beats a seven or a three. Your right of way at a flashing yellow light has priority over the right of way of the driver facing a flashing red; and the right of way of an ambulance with sirens on trumps you both.

This metaphor of trumps leads naturally to the question of whether there is any right that has priority to absolutely all other normative considerations: whether there is an "ace of rights." Gewirth (1981) asserts that there is at least one such absolute right: the right of all persons not to be made the victim of a homicidal project. For such a right to be absolute, it would have to trump every other consideration whatsoever: other rights, economic efficiency, saving lives, everything. Not all would agree with Gewirth that even this very powerful right overrides every conceivable normative concern. Some would think it might be justifiable to infringe even this right were this somehow necessary, for example, to prevent the deaths of a great many people. If it is permissible to kill one in order to save a billion, then not even Gewirth's right is absolute.

5.2 Conflicts of Rights?

Most theorists would agree that A's claim-right gives B what Raz (1975, 35-48) calls an exclusionary reason: a second-order reason not to act on some first-order reason. Dworkin's trumping metaphor makes it tempting to characterize the normative force of rights in the stronger terms of conclusive reasons. We could indeed attempt to define the Hohfeldian incidents in these terms. A's having a claim-right that B φ would imply that B has a conclusive reason to φ, and A's having a privilege-right to φ would imply that A has no conclusive reason not to φ. Powers and immunities would then determine the ways in which agents were and were not able to alter the patterns of conclusive reasons in the world.

Were we to go this route, we would need to temper the "conclusiveness" of the conclusive reasons implied by rights assertions to accommodate the facts that some rights have priority to others, and that few if any rights outweigh absolutely all non-right considerations in all circumstances. If we associate rights with conclusive reasons, then for at least most rights these reasons can only be conclusive with respect to some but not all competing considerations.

This line of thought can be developed by saying that the reasons associated with rights are conclusive within the area covered by the right, but are not conclusive outside of that area. Each right trumps competing considerations in most circumstances, but there are certain circumstances in which another right with higher priority-or a pressing non-right consideration-determines what may or should be done. From this perspective, the conclusive reasons implied by rights assertions really are conclusive, but only within certain circumstances. Every right is absolute, within a precisely delimited space. (Contrast this position with Gewirth's defense of a single, unqualified absolute right.)

The theoretical position at the end of this line of thought is called "specificationism" (Shafer-Landau 1995, Oberdiek 2008). The specificationist holds that each right is defined by an elaborate set of qualifications that specify when it does and when it does not apply: a set of qualifications that define the right's "space."

The test of specificationism is how convincingly it can explain what occurs when rights appear to conflict. Rights do often appear to conflict. (Sinnott-Armstrong 1996; Kamm 2007, 262-301) For example, on a certain day it may seem that the public's right to protest is conflicting with the government's right to keep order on public property. When confronted with a case like this one, we will judge that one or the other (say, the public's) right should prevail. However, we do not believe that one of these rights is always stronger than the other. Given different circumstances, our judgment might favor the other (in this case, the government's) right. When rights appear to conflict like this, the usefulness of the image of rights as trumps begins to dim. Both of these rights are trump cards, yet it does not appear that one right always trumps the other.

A specificationist will attempt to dispel any appearance of conflict of rights. For example, a specificationist will say that what is colloquially referred to as "the public's right to protest" is actually, on closer examination, "the public's right to protest, unless the protest would cause serious risk to life or property, or would lead to the spread of a deadly disease, or..." Similarly, the government's right should really be specified more fully as the right: "to control what happens on public property, but not to the extent of stopping peaceful protest, unless the protest would lead to the spread of deadly disease, but not..." On the specificationist view, rights never do conflict in the sense of overlapping in a given case. Rather, rights fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, so that in each circumstance there is only one right which determines what is permitted, forbidden or required. Every right is absolute within its own area, but the area in which each right prevails is elaborately gerrymandered. Rights never conflict: they are always, to use Steiner's phrase, "compossible" (Steiner 1994).

Feinberg (1980, 221-51) and Thomson (1990, 82-104) object to this specificationist view of rights. First, fully specified rights would be unknowable: no one could set out all of the qualifications that define even the simplest right. Second, rights so understood lose their explanatory force: for the specificationist rights can only be the conclusions, not the premises, of arguments concerning which side in any dispute should prevail. Third, specificationists cannot explain the "moral residue" of a "defeated" right. For instance, consider a case in which your property right in the pie cooling on your window sill conflicts with John's right to do what he must do to keep from starving. John's right may prevail in this case: John may have a right to eat your pie. Still, after John rightfully eats your pie he should apologize to you, and compensate you if he can.

Thomson alleges that specificationists cannot explain the requirements that John apologizes to and compensates you, since on the specificationist view there is no right of yours that he has violated when he consumes your food. Thomson prefers the view that there really are conflicts of rights, and suggests that we should speak of a "defeated" right as being permissibly "infringed" (instead of "violated"), leaving residual obligations on the infringer. Frederick (2014) chases down some specificationist replies to these objections, and concludes that although moral rights are strong moral considerations, they are only pro tanto. Liberto (2014) develops a more sophisticated specificationist position, which is critiqued by Montague (2015). Mullins (forthcoming) offers a logical framework of practical reasoning that claims to capture the dynamics of the debate over specification.

5.3 Support among Rights

Philosophers have discussed not only how rights can conflict, but how they sometimes support one another. For example, Henry Shue has argued that both rights of security and rights of subsistence are "basic rights" because they are indispensable for the full enjoyment of all other rights-while other rights are non-basic because they are not indispensable for the enjoyment of these two. If the enjoyment or realization of a controversial right is an important precondition for the enjoyment of an uncontroversial right, one can defend the controversial right by documenting its strong supporting role. Such a "linkage argument" is used by Shue to defend the right to subsistence as a basic right, and by Sen to defend rights to democracy and freedom of the press as supportive of the right to adequate nutrition in developing countries (Shue 1996, Sen 1999). Shue's and Sen's assertions have been criticized as exaggerated (Nickel 2008, Myhvold-Hanssen 2003 (in the Other Internet Resources)).

Nickel (2008, 2010, 2016) develops a sophisticated typology of supporting relations between rights (see also Gilabert 2010). One right strongly supports another when it is logically or practically inconsistent to endorse the implementation of the second right without endorsing the simultaneous implementation of the first. For example, the right to bodily security strongly supports the right to freedom of assembly. One right weakly supports another when it is useful but not essential to it. The right to education, for example, weakly supports the right to a fair trial. Nickel argues that the strength of supporting relations between rights varies with quality of implementation. Poorly implemented rights provide little support to other rights, while ones that are more effectively implemented tend to provide greater support to other rights. The right to due process supports the right to equal treatment for members of different racial and ethnic groups-but the support will be soft if the right to due process is only weakly implemented.

Rights that weakly support each other are interdependent. Rights that strongly support each other are indivisible. Beginning with the 1968 Proclamation of Tehran, the United Nations has promoted the idea that "Since human rights and fundamental freedoms are indivisible, the full realization of civil and political rights without the enjoyment of economic, social and cultural rights is impossible" (see Whelan 2010). Nickel holds that this indivisibility thesis exaggerates the density and strength of supporting relations among human rights. He allows, however, that many supporting relations exist between rights-particularly under high-quality implementation-and endorses the use of linkage arguments when indispensability can be shown.

5.4 Rights to Do Wrong

Are there rights to do wrong? Many have thought so. Waldron (1993, 63) gives the example of antiwar protesters organizing a rowdy demonstration near a Remembrance Day service; Wellman (1997, 33) offers the illustration of edging into a checkout line with a full cart, just ahead of a tired woman carrying triplets. The puzzle is how the positive normative force of "a right" can exist so close to an opposed negative normative pole, "wrong." In Hohfeldian terms, how can there be a right (no duty not) to do what it is wrong (duty not) to do? (Similar questions arise about "the abuse of rights" (Schauer 1984).)

There are two main readings of rights to do wrong. The first reading characterizes most rights as furthering the holder's autonomy. Rights entitle their holders to make choices, and as Waldron (1993) says the importance of a person's having choices would be diminished if she were forced to do the right thing. Even though the person has no (privilege-) right to perform an action that is wrong, it would nevertheless violate an important (claim-) right of hers for others to compel her not to do that thing. To take the speech example, we respect the autonomy of speakers when we allow them to speak unmolested-even when they do wrong by expressing themselves in disrespectful ways. (For a defense of this reading against objections from Galston and George, see Herstein 2012. On the existence and value of legal rights to do legal wrongs, see Herstein 2013.)

The second reading of rights to do wrong sees them as involving a mid-sentence shift in domains of reasons. There is no mystery, after all, in having a legal right to do something morally wrong. The potential for a legal right to do a moral wrong arises from the fact that the domains of legal and moral reasons are not perfectly overlapped. One has a legal privilege to edge in front of the tired mother in the check-out line, but this is something that one has a moral duty not to do. Similarly, one might have a moral privilege to do what one has no customary privilege to do (a moral right to do a customary wrong), and so on. Each domain of reasons is distinct, and however conclusive are the reasons that any particular rights-assertion implies, these are only reasons within a single domain of reasons (moral, or legal, or customary). Osiel (2019) examines the sociology of stigmatization that encourages individuals and states not to exercise their legal rights in ways that violate moral norms.

A related question concerns how it can come to be permissible to treat A in certain ways that would, but for the actions or situation of A, be wrong. For example, it is wrong purposefully to impose a hardship on another person, unless that person has acted in a way that merits punishment. Wellman (2017) makes a close study of how it can be permissible to punish, concluding that the best explanation is that the wrongdoer has forfeited her right against hard treatment. A separate line of scholarship running through work by Thomson, McMahan, Otsuka, Frowe, and Lazar debates how it can be permissible to attack innocents during war (see Walen 2019, 2-8).

5.5 Rights to Believe, Feel, and Want

Moral rights, legal rights, and customary rights all define domains of rights within the realm of rights of conduct: rights concerning how agents may and should act. When our reasons within these three different domains conflict, we may have reasons of different kinds to act in different ways. Yet there are also rights entirely beyond the realm of conduct. These are rights to believe, to feel and to want. For example, the prime minister asserts that he had a right to believe what his advisors told him. The artist says she has a right to feel angry at her critics. The frustrated suburbanite complains he has a right to want more out of life.

The realm of rights of rights to believe, to feel, and to want are the realms of epistemic, of affective, and of conative rights. Together with the realm of rights of conduct, these are the four realms of rights. Each of these four realms of rights defines a separate conceptual space: there are no epistemic rights to act, and no affective rights to believe. What is distinctive about the three realms of rights beyond the rights of conduct is that they seem only to contain only privilege-rights (Wenar 2003). One may, for example, have a privilege-right to believe what one's eyes tell one, and a privilege-right to feel proud of what one has done. It is interesting to consider why these epistemic, affective, and conative realms contain no claims, powers, or immunities.

Philosophers have long been interested in epistemic rights in particular (Altschul 2010 (Other Internet Resources), Graham and Pedersen 2012), though there is also skepticism about this category (Glick 2010). William James, for instance, calls The Will to Believe, "an essay in justification of faith, a defense of our right to adopt a believing attitude in religious matters, in spite of the fact that our merely logical intellect may not have been coerced." James's "radical" conclusion in the essay is that "we have the right to believe at our own risk any hypothesis that is live enough to tempt our will" (James 1897, 2, 29). Similarly, the deepest questions in Kant's philosophy are framed in terms of rights. In the Critique of Pure Reason, the Transcendental Deduction of the Categories aims to prove the validity of the employment of the concepts of pure understanding. In the Critique of Practical Reason, the Deduction of Freedom aims to demonstrate our entitlement to regard ourselves as free. In both Deductions, the central question is a quaestio iuris: "By what right?" Kant's questions are: By what right do we employ the categories; and by what right do we think of ourselves as free?

6. Three Approaches to the Justification of Rights

There are two leading philosophical approaches to explaining which fundamental rights of conduct there are, and why these rights should be respected. These two approaches are broadly identifiable as deontological and consequentialist. Status theories hold that human beings have attributes that make it fitting to ascribe certain rights to them, and make respect for these rights appropriate. Instrumental theories hold that respect for particular rights is a means for bringing about some optimal distribution of advantages. Each approach has characteristic strengths and weaknesses; the long-running contest between them is ongoing.

Quinn (1993, 170) sketches a modern status theory this way:

A person is constituted by his body and his mind. They are parts or aspects of him. For that very reason, it is fitting that he have primary say over what may be done to them-not because such an arrangement best promotes overall human welfare, but because any arrangement that denied him that say would be a grave indignity. In giving him this authority, morality recognizes his existence as an individual with ends of his own-an independent being. Since that is what he is, he deserves this recognition.

Quinn claims that there is some attribute of the person-here, being "an individual with ends of his own"-that merits recognition from others. The recognition that is due to each individual can be accorded to that individual by respecting his fundamental rights.

Quinn contrasts his status approach to rights with one that ascribes rights "because such an arrangement best promotes overall human welfare." His target is consequentialist theories of rights, the paradigm of which are utilitarian theories. We met such a utilitarian theory of rights above in John Stuart Mill's conceptualization of rights as "something which society ought to defend me in the possession of." Mill believed that society ought to defend the individual in possession of her rights because doing so would bring about the greatest utility summed across the members of that society. For Mill, as for other instrumental theorists, rights are a tool for producing an optimal distribution of interests across some group.

The two approaches differ sharply over the role of consequences in the justification of ascribing rights. Status theorists hold that rights should be respected because it is fitting to do so, and not because of the good consequences that will flow from so doing. By contrast, within an instrumental theory good consequences are the justification for promulgating and enforcing rights. As Quinn (1993, 173) says about the status approach:

It is not that we think it fitting to ascribe rights because we think it is a good thing that rights be respected. Rather we think respect for rights a good thing precisely because we think people actually have them-and... that they have them because it is fitting that they should.

Within a status approach, rights are not means for the promotion of good consequences. They are rather, in Nozick's phrase, side constraints on the pursuit of good consequences (Nozick 1974, 29). A status approach frowns on any rights violation, even for the sake of maximizing the non-violation of rights overall (as in a "utilitarianism of rights"). Such an approach emphasizes the "agent-relative" reasons that each person has to avoid violating the rights of others.

A status-based justification thus begins with the nature of the rightholder and arrives immediately at the right. The instrumental approach starts with the desired consequences (like maximum utility) and works backward to see which rights-ascriptions will produce those consequences.

6.1 Status-Based Rights

Status theories belong to the tradition of natural rights theories. All natural rights theories fix upon features that humans have by their nature, which make respect for certain rights appropriate. The theories differ over precisely which attributes of humans give rise to rights, although non-religious theories tend to fix upon the same sorts of attributes described in more or less metaphysical or moralized terms: free will, rationality, autonomy, or the ability to regulate one's life in accordance with one's chosen conception of the good life. Natural rights theorists agree that human reason can grasp the fact that it is appropriate to treat beings with such attributes in certain ways, although they disagree on whether such facts are self-evident.

Natural rights theory reached its high point in the early modern era, in the work of Grotius, Hobbes, Pufendorf, and especially Locke. Locke argued that men have rights to "life, liberty, and estate" in a pre-political state of nature, and that these natural rights put limits on the legitimate authority of the state. Locke's influence can be seen in the revolutionary American and French political documents of the eighteenth century, and especially in Jefferson's Declaration of Independence (1776): "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness."

The revival of status theory within contemporary philosophy began with Nozick's Anarchy State and Utopia (1974). While Nozick does acknowledge a debt to Locke's theory of property, his work belongs within the Kantian tradition of natural rights theorizing. Nozick centers his explanation of the moral force of individual rights on the Kantian imperative against treating humanity merely as a means to an end. Each person's rights impose side-constraints on others' pursuit of their goals, Nozick says, because each person possesses an inviolability that all others must respect. "Individuals have rights," he wrote, "and there are things no person or group may do to them (without violating their rights)" (Nozick 1974, ix).

Many find this approach of grounding of rights in individual dignity appealing. There is a directness and clarity to status explanations of fundamental rights. For example, Kamm (2007, 247) explains the right of free expression as follows:

The right to speak may simply be the only appropriate way to treat people with minds of their own and the capacity to use means to express it... Not recognizing a person's option of speaking is to fail to respect him... To say that any given person is not entitled to the strong right to free speech is... a way of saying that certain crucial features of human nature are not sufficient to generate the right in anyone. And this seems to be a mistake.

Moreover, status-based rights are attractively robust. While the justifications of instrumental rights are always contingent on calculations concerning consequences, status-based rights are anchored firmly in individual dignity. This makes it easy to explain why status-based rights are strong, almost unqualified rights, and this is a position which many believe properly expresses the great value of each person.

However, the strength of status-based rights can also be seen as a weakness of the theory. One does not wish to be carried from the great importance of each individual to the implausible position that all fundamental rights are absolute. As Nagel (2002, 36) allows while defending a status view, "there are evils great enough so that one would be justified in murdering or torturing an innocent person to prevent them." Consequences, if bad enough, do justify the qualification of individual rights, which leaves the status theorist needing to explain how a theory which rejects consequences so resolutely at the outset can concede their importance later on.

Moreover, the simplicity of the status approach to rights can also appear to be a liability. On close examination, the fundamental rights that most people believe in are intricately "shaped." For example, consider the widely-accepted right to free expression. This right includes the right to make damning personal attacks on others. Yet the right is much more permissive about attacking public figures than it is about assailing private citizens. How could a status approach explain this distinction between public figures and private citizens? Or again: the right to free speech sometimes contains a right to say what the speaker knows to be untrue. Yet we tend to be more tolerant of deceitful speech in political campaigns than we are of deceitful speech in advertising or in the courtroom. It is an open question whether status theory has the conceptual resources to explain why individual rights should be shaped in these specific ways.

Status theory also faces the challenge of vindicating its foundations and its scope. Why after all is it "fitting" to ascribe individuals rights? The Kantian value of inviolability can look puzzling when presented independently of a metaphysical grounding. As Nagel (2002, 34) admits, "it has proven extremely difficult to account for such a basic, individualized value such that it becomes morally intelligible." This is a quiet echo of Bentham's protest that the doctrine of natural rights "is from beginning to end so much flat assertion: it lays down as a fundamental and inviolable principle whatever is in dispute" (Bentham 1796, 66). Cruft (2010, 451) has attempted to deepen the theory of the non-instrumental value of basic rights, by showing that such rights are constitutive of "relationships that bind all humans together in fellowship as members of a shared-proto-community."

Even so, status theorists must also resolve an internal debate over exactly which rights should be thought to express an individual's inviolability. Nozick holds that status-based rights include rights to whatever property one has acquired, while other status theorists reject the "right libertarianism" to which Nozick's position leads. The resolution of this debate became more urgent when a group of neo-Kantian and neo-Lockean "left libertarian" theorists have advanced the view that the status of individuals requires that each be accorded strong rights to self-ownership, and also initially equal shares of "world-ownership" (Vallentyne and Steiner 2000, Otsuka 2003). Status theories also need to pay particular attention to the rights that society should enforce in cases of widespread non-compliance with "ideal" rights. (Quong and Stone 2015).

6.2 Instrumental Rights

Instrumental theories see rights as instruments for achieving an optimal distribution of advantages. The archetypal instrumental theory is some form of two-level consequentialism, such as rule utilitarianism. Within such a theory, rights are rules the general observance of which will lead to an optimal distribution of advantages. In rule utilitarianism, the optimal distribution is the one that contains the greatest aggregate utility.

The most common objection to grounding rights in such a theory is that the resulting rights will be too flimsy. If rights are justified only insofar as they generate good consequences, it may seem that the theory will need to prune its rights, perhaps severely, whenever maximum utility lies elsewhere. Why is it not a rule in a two-level system, for example, that one should frame an innocent man if this would prevent a major riot? Why should it not be a rule that one should "violate" the right of an innocent not to be killed if this would prevent the killings of two innocents elsewhere? While status-based rights can appear to be too strong, instrumental rights can appear to be too weak. (See Pettit 1988 for a counter-argument.)

Weak rights are a problem for utilitarianism because its focus on maximization makes it indifferent to certain facts about how utility is distributed across individuals. However, utilitarianism is not the only kind of instrumental theory.

For example, a pure egalitarian theory will portray rights as instruments for achieving a more equal distribution of advantages. A prioritarian theory will define an optimal distribution in a manner similar to egalitarianism, except that it will give extra weight to the interests of those worse off. Other instrumental theories characterize "optimal distribution" in other ways (Sumner 1987, 171). Instrumental theories that do not define an optimal distribution in terms of maximization may face less pressure than utilitarianism does from concerns about weak rights (Scanlon 1977).

Instrumental theories differ over how they define what counts as an optimal distribution (maximization, equality, etc.). They also differ in how they measure individual advantage. For instance, a utilitarian's metric is utility, Sen works with a metric of capabilities, Dworkin with resources, and so on.

Whatever metric they use, all instrumental theorists will have to address longstanding questions about the commensurability and interpersonal comparison of interests. Since instrumental theorists work with overall evaluations of how well off individuals would be were certain rights ascribed, they must explain how distinct categories of interests (e.g., health, income, opportunities for self-expression, social recognition) trade off against one another. They must also explain why they believe that these interests are similar enough across persons that it makes sense to use the same scales of measurement for different persons (Griffin 1989).

Status theories are subject to the objection that they lack the conceptual resources to explain why the rights we believe in are intricately "shaped" to accommodate the particularities of different contexts and different rightholders. Instrumental theories are vulnerable to the mirror-image objection. An instrumental theorist can appeal to any number of distinct interests, which are at stake for any number of differently-situated individuals, to explain why a certain right should be held only by certain persons or only in certain circumstances. The danger for such a theorist is that the wealth of normative resources at her command will permit the ascription of whatever rights she favors. The theorist begins with the rights that she wants to justify, then gives a "just so" story in terms of an optimal distribution of interests that leads to exactly those rights (Tushnet 1984, Frey 1985). Moreover all instrumental justifications rely on empirical predictions concerning which ascriptions of rights would produce which consequences, and there will typically be enough slack in these empirical predictions for instrumental theorists to fudge their derivations in order to reach the desired rights.

Both status theories and instrumental theories of rights have held a perennial attraction. Because of this, many have been tempted to search for a hybrid approach that would combine what is plausible in each (e.g., Sen, 1982).

6.3 Contractual and Justificatory Rights

A third approach to the justification of rights might be called "contractual." Here rights are characterized neither as naturally fitting for independent beings nor as tools to promote the best state of affairs. Rather, rights define principles that would be chosen by properly situated and motivated agents agreeing to the basic terms of their relations (e.g., principles chosen in Rawls's original position, or principles within Scanlon's contractualism that no one could reasonably reject). The fact that these principles would be agreed to under the specified conditions is their justification.

The rights that define fundamental principles within these theories are phrased in terms of what the theories' agents have strong reason to want. So, for example, Rawls states that the role of a citizen's right of personal property "is to allow a sufficient material basis for a sense of personal independence and self-respect, both of which are essential for the development and exercise of the two moral powers" (Rawls 1993, 298). And Scanlon says that reasonable individuals "have reason to insist ... on basic rights, which give them important forms of protection and control over their own lives" (Scanlon 2003, 4).

Forst (2012, 2014, 2016) combines critical and contractualist theory into a sophisticated account of rights. Beginning with a status-based fundamental right to justification, he shows how suitably idealized demands for justification from individuals subordinated within real relations of power can ground specific rights to relief from and redress for actual injustices. Forst's framework shows the enduring theoretical appeal and practical potential of the Kantian tradition of understanding rights.

7. Critiques of Rights

Critiques of rights come in two forms. The first is an attack on the substance of doctrines that give rights a central place. These critiques allege that the content of such doctrines is, in one way or other, malformed or unjustified. Here we find, for example, the criticism that natural rights doctrines are "so much flat assertion," or that utilitarian rights tend to be implausibly weak. The second form of critique attacks the language of rights itself. The objection here is that it is inappropriate or counterproductive to express at least some kinds of normative concerns in terms of rights. We should, according to the second form of critique, reduce or avoid "rights talk."

7.1 Critiques of Rights Doctrine

Marx attacked the substance of the revolutionary eighteenth century American and French political documents that proclaimed the fundamental "rights of man": liberty, equality, security, property, and the free exercise of religion. Marx objected that these alleged rights derive from a false conception of the human individual as unrelated to others, as having interests can be defined without reference to others, and as always potentially in conflict with others. The rights-bearing individual is an "isolated monad... withdrawn behind his private interests and whims and separated from the community" (Marx 1844, 146).

The right of property, Marx asserted, exemplifies the isolating and anti-social character of these alleged rights of man. On the one hand, the right of property is the right to keep others at a distance: the legal equivalent of a barbed wire fence. On the other hand, the right of property allows an owner to transfer his resources at his own pleasure and for his own gain, without regard even for the desperate need for those resources elsewhere.

Similarly, Marx held that the much-celebrated individual right to liberty reinforces selfishness. Those who are ascribed the right to do what they wish so long as they do not hurt others will perpetuate a culture of egoistic obsession. As for equality, the achievement of equal rights in a liberal state merely distracts people from noticing that their equality is purely formal: a society with formally equal rights will continue to be divided by huge inequalities in economic and political power. Finally, these so-called "natural" rights are in fact not natural to humans at all. They are simply the defining elements of the rules of the modern mode of production, perfectly suited to fit each individual into the capitalist machine.

Communitarians (Taylor, Walzer, MacIntyre, Sandel) sound several of the same themes in their criticisms of contemporary liberal and libertarian theories. The communitarians object that humans are not, as such theories assume, "antecedently individuated." Nozick's "state of nature" theorizing, for example, errs in presuming that individuals outside of a stable, state-governed social order will develop the autonomous capacities that make them deserving of rights. Nor should we attempt, as in Rawls's original position, to base an argument for rights on what individuals would choose in abstraction from their particular identities and community attachments. There is no way to establish a substantive political theory on what all rational agents want in the abstract. Rather, theorists should look at the particular social contexts in which real people live their lives, and to the meanings that specific goods carry within different cultures. This communitarian critique continues by accusing liberal and libertarian theories of being falsely universalistic, in insisting that all societies should bend themselves to fit within a standard-sized grid of rights. Insofar as we should admit rights into our understanding of the world at all, communitarians say, we should see them as part of ongoing practices of social self-interpretation and negotiation- and so as rules that can vary significantly between cultures.

These kinds of criticisms have been discussed in detail (e.g., Gutmann 1985, Waldron 1987b, Mulhall and Swift 1992). Their validity turns on weighty issues in moral and political theory. What can be said here is that a common theme in most of these criticisms-that prominent rights doctrines are in some way excessively individualistic or "atomistic"-need not cut against any theory merely because it uses the language of rights. Ignatieff (2003, 67) errs, for example, when he charges that "rights language cannot be parsed or translated into a nonindividualistic, communitarian framework. It presumes moral individualism and is nonsensical outside that assumption."

As we saw above, the language of rights is able to accommodate rightholders who are individuals as such, but also individuals considered as members of groups, as well as groups themselves, states, peoples, and so on. Indeed the non-individualistic potential of rights-language is more than a formal possibility. The doctrine of international human rights-the modern cousin of eighteenth century natural rights theory-ascribes several significant rights to groups. The international Convention against Genocide, for example, forbids actions intending to destroy any national, ethnic, racial or religious group; and both of the human rights Covenants ascribe to peoples the right to self-determination. Such examples show that the language of rights is not individualistic in its essence.

7.2 Critiques of the Language of Rights

The language of rights can resist the charge that it is necessarily complicit with individualism. However, critics have accused rights talk of impeding social progress:

Our rights talk, in its absoluteness promotes unrealistic expectations, heightens social conflict, and inhibits dialogue that might lead toward consensus, accommodation, or at least the discovery of common ground. In its silence concerning responsibilities, it seems to condone acceptance of the benefits of living in a democratic social welfare state, without accepting the corresponding personal and civic obligations.... In its insularity, it shuts out potentially important aids to the process of self-correcting learning. All of these traits promote mere assertion over reason-giving.

Glendon (1991, 14) here draws out some of the detrimental practical consequences of the connection between rights and conclusive reasons that we saw above. Since rights assertions suggest conclusive reasons, people can be tempted to assert rights when they want to end a discussion instead of continuing it. One plays a right as a trump card when one has run out of arguments. Similarly, the ready availability of rights language may lead parties initially at odds with each other toward confrontation instead of negotiation, as each side escalates an arms-race of rights assertions that can only be resolved by a superior authority like a court. One line of feminist theory has picked up on this line of criticism, identifying the peremptory and rigidifying discourse of rights with the confrontational masculine "voice." (Gilligan 1993)

It is not inevitable that these unfortunate tendencies will afflict those who make use of the language of rights. As we have seen, it may be plausible to hold that each right is "absolute" only within an elaborately gerrymandered area. And it may be possible to produce deep theories to justify why one has the rights that one asserts. However, it is plausible that the actual use of rights talk does have the propensities that Glendon suggests. It seems no accident that America, "the land of rights," is also the land of litigation.

Another deleterious consequence of rights talk that Glendon picks out is its tendency to move the moral focus toward persons as rightholders, instead of toward persons as bearers of responsibilities. This critique is developed by O'Neill (1996, 127-53; 2002, 27-34). A focus on rightholders steers moral reasoning toward the perspective of recipience, instead of toward the traditional active ethical questions of what one ought to do and how one ought to live. Rights talk also leads those who use it to neglect important virtues such as courage and beneficence, which are duties to which no rights correspond. Finally, the use of rights language encourages people to make impractical demands, since one can assert a right without attending to the desirability or even the possibility of burdening others with the corresponding obligations.

Criticisms such as O'Neill's do not target the language of rights as a whole. They aim squarely at the passive rights, and especially at claim-rights, instead of at the active privileges and powers. Nevertheless, it is again plausible that the spread of rights talk has encouraged the tendencies that these criticisms suggest. The modern discourse of rights is characteristically deployed by those who see themselves or others as potential recipients, entitled to insist on certain benefits or protections.

Describing fundamental norms in terms of rights has benefits as well as dangers (Schneider 1986, Ackerly 2013). The language of rights can give precise expression to elaborate structures of freedom and authority. When embodied in particular doctrines, such as in the international human rights documents, the language of rights can express in accessible terms the standards for minimally acceptable treatment that individuals can demand from those with power over them. Rights are also associated with historical movements for greater liberty and equality, so assertions of rights in pursuit of justice can carry a resonance that other appeals lack. Whether these benefits of using rights language overbalance the hazards remains a live question in moral, political, and legal theory.

Bibliography

Ackerly, B., 2013, "Feminist and Activist Approaches to Human Rights," in M. Goodhart (ed.), Human Rights: Politics and Practice, Second ed., Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 28-43.

Andersson, A-K., 2013, "Choices, Interests, and Potentiality: What Distinguishes Bearers of Rights?" Journal of Value Inquiry, 47: 175-90.

Bentham, J., 1796, Anarchical Fallacies, in Waldron 1987a, pp. 46-76.

Brett, A., 1997, Liberty, Right, and Nature, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Campbell, T., 2006, Rights: A Critical Introduction, London: Routledge.

Cornell, N., 2015, "Wrongs, Rights, and Third Parties," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 43: 109-143.

Cruft, R., 2004, "Why is it Disrespectful to Violate Rights?" Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 113: 201-24.

---, 2010, "On the Non-Instrumental Value of Basic Rights," Journal of Moral Philosophy, 7: 441-61.

---, 2019, Human Rights, Ownership, and the Individual, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Darwall, S., 2006, The Second-Person Standpoint, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

---, 2012, "Bipolar Obligation," in R. Shafer-Landau (ed.), Oxford Studies in Metaethics, 7: 333-357.

Donahue, Jr., Charles, 2010, "Ius in Roman Law," in J. Witte, Jr. and F. Alexander (eds.),Christianity and Human Rights, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 64-80.

Dworkin, R., 1984, "Rights as Trumps," in Waldron 1984, pp. 153-67.

Edmundson, W., 2012, An Introduction to Rights, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2nd edition.

Enoch, D., 2002, "A Right to Violate One's Duty," Law and Philosophy, 21: 376-78.

Feinberg, J., 1970, "The Nature and Value of Rights," Journal of Value Inquiry, 4: 243-257.

---, 1973, Social Philosophy, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

---, 1980, Rights, Justice, and the Bounds of Liberty, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Finnis, J., 1980, Natural Law and Natural Right, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Forst, R., 2012, The Right to Justification: Elements of a Constructivist Theory of Justice, J. Flynn (trans.), New York: Columbia University Press.

---, 2014, Justice, Democracy and the Right to Justification: Rainer Forst in Dialogue, London: Bloomsbury.

---, 2016, "The Justification of Basic Rights: A Discourse-Theoretical Approach," Netherlands Journal of Legal Philosophy, 45: 7-28

Frederick, D., 2014, "Pro-Tanto Versus Absolute Rights," Philosophical Forum, 45: 275-94.

Frey R., 1985, "Act-Utilitarianism, Consequentialism, and Moral Rights," in R. Frey (ed.), Utility and Rights, Oxford, Basil Blackwell, pp. 61-85.

Frydrych, D., 2018, "The Theories of Rights Debate," Jurisprudence, 9(3): 566-588.

Gewirth, A., 1981, "Are There any Absolute Rights?" in Waldron 1984, pp. 81-109.

Gilabert, P., 2010, "The Importance of Linkage Arguments for the Theory and Practice of Human Rights: A Response to James Nickel," Human Rights Quarterly, 32: 425-38.

Gilbert, M., 2004, "Scanlon on Promissory Obligation: The Problem of Promisees' Rights," The Journal of Philosophy, 101: 83-109.

---, 2013, Joint Commitment: How We Make the Social World, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2018, Rights and Demands: A Foundational Inquiry, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Gilligan, C., 1993, In a Different Voice, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Glendon, M., 1991, Rights Talk: The Impoverishment of Political Discourse, New York: Free Press.

Glick, J., 2010, "Justification and the Right to Believe," Philosophical Quarterly, 60: 532-44.

Graham, P. and N. Pedersen (eds.), 2012, Epistemic Entitlement, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Griffin, J., 1989, Well-Being: Its Meaning, Measurement, and Moral Importance, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Gutmann, A., 1985, "Communitarian Critics of Liberalism," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 14: 308-322.

Halpin, A., 2017, "The Value of Hohfeldian Neutrality when Theorising about Legal Rights," in McBride (ed.) 2017, pp. 1-30.

Harel, A., 2005, "Theories of Rights," in M. Golding and W. Edmundson (eds.), Blackwell's Guide to the Philosophy of Law and Legal Theory, pp. 191-206.

Hart, H., 1961, The Concept of Law, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1982, Essays on Bentham: Studies in Jurisprudence and Political Theory, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Hayward, T., 2013, "On Prepositional Duties," Ethics, 123: 264-91.

Herstein, O., 2012, "Defending a Right to Do Wrong," Law and Philosophy, 31: 343-65.

---, 2013, "A Legal Right to Do Legal Wrong," Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 34: 1-25.

Hohfeld, W., 1919, Fundamental Legal Conceptions, W. Cook (ed.), New Haven: Yale University Press.

Holmes, S., and C. Sunstein, 1999, The Costs of Rights, New York: W.W. Norton.

Ignatieff, M., 2003, "Human Rights, Sovereignty, and Intervention," in N. Owen (ed.), Human Rights and Human Wrongs: The Oxford Amnesty Lectures 2001, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ivison, D., 2007, Rights, Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press.

James, W., 1897, The Will to Believe; page references in the text are to W. James,The Will to Believe and Human Immortality, New York: Dover, 1956.

Jones, P., 1994, Rights, New York: St. Martin's Press.

Kamm, F., 1992, "Non-Consequentialism, the Person as an End-in-Itself, and the Significance of Status", Philosophy and Public Affairs, 21: 354-89.

---, 2002, "Rights," in J. Coleman and S. Shapiro (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Jurisprudence and Philosophy of Law, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 486-513.

---, 2007, Intricate Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kramer, M., 2001, "Getting Rights Right", in M. Kramer (ed.), Rights, Wrongs, and Responsibilities, London: Macmillan, pp. 28-95.

---, 2013, "Some Doubts about Alternatives to the Interest Theory," Ethics, 123: 245-63.

---, 2017, "In Defence of the Interest Theory of Right-Holding: Rejoinders to Leif Wenar on Rights," in McBride (ed.) 2017, pp. 49-84.

Kramer, M., N. Simmonds, and H. Steiner, 1998, A Debate Over Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kramer, M., and H. Steiner, 2007, "Theories of Rights: Is There a Third Way?" Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 27: 281-310.

Kurki, V., 2018, "Rights, Harming, and Wronging: A Restatement of the Interest Theory," Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 38: 430-50.

Liberto, H., 2014, "The Moral Specification of Rights: A Restricted Account," Law and Philosophy, 33: 175-206.

Lisska, A. and B. Tierney, 2015, "Philosophy of Law in the Later Middle Ages," in F. Miller and C.-A. Biondi (eds.), A History of the Philosophy of Law from the Ancient Greeks to the Scholastics, second edition, Dordrecht: Springer, pp. 311-33.

Louden, R., 1983, "Rights Infatuation and the Impoverishment of Moral Theory," Journal of Value Inquiry, 17: 87-102.

Lyons, D., 1970, "The Correlativity of Rights and Duties," Noûs, 4: 45-57.

---, 1994, Rights, Welfare and Mill's Moral Theory, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

MacCormick, N., 1977, "Rights in Legislation", in P. Hacker and J. Raz, (eds.), Law, Morality and Society: Essays in Honour of H.L.A Hart, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977, pp. 189-209.

---, 1982, Legal Right and Social Democracy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Mackie, J., 1979, "Can There be a Rights-Based Moral Theory?" in Waldron 1984, pp. 168-81.

Martin, R., 1993, A System of Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1985, Rawls and Rights, Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of Kansas.

Marx, K., 1844, "On the Jewish Question"; page reference in the text is to the reprint in Waldron 1987a, pp. 137-50.

May, S., 2012, "Moral Status and the Direction of Duties," Ethics, 123: 113-28.

---, 2015, "Directed Duties," Philosophy Compass, 10: 523-32.

McBride, M. (ed.), 2017, New Essays on the Nature of Rights, London: Bloomsbury.

Mill, J., 1859, On Liberty; page reference in the text is to the reprint in J. Mill,On Liberty and Other Essays, S. Collini (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989.

---, 1861, Utilitarianism; page reference in the text is to the reprint in J. Mill,Utilitarianism, G. Sher (ed.), Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002.

Montague, P., 2015, "Specification and Moral Rights," Law and Philosophy, 34: 241-56.

Mulhall, S., and Swift, A., 1992, Liberals and Communitarians, Oxford: Blackwell.

Mullins, R., forthcoming, "Moral Conflict and the Logic of Rights," Philosophical Studies, first online 14 November 2018. doi.org/10.1007/s11098-018-1197-1

Nagel, T., 2002, Concealment and Exposure, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Narveson, J., 2001, The Libertarian Idea, Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview.

Nickel, J., 2008, "Rethinking Indivisibility: Towards a Theory of Supporting Relations between Human Rights," Human Rights Quarterly 30: 984-1001.

---, 2010, "Indivisibility and Linkage Arguments: A Reply to Gilabert,", Human Rights Quarterly, 32: 439-46.

---, 2016, "Can a Right to Health Care be Justified by Linkage Arguments?" Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics, 37: 293-306.

Oberdiek, J., 2008 "Specifying Rights Out of Necessity," Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 28: 127-46.

O'Neill, O., 1996, Toward Justice and Virtue: A Constructive Account of Practical Reasoning, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2002, A Question of Trust, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Osiel, M., 2019, The Right to Do Wrong: Morality and the Limits of Law, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Otsuka, M., 2003, Libertarianism Without Inequality, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Pallikkathayil, J., 2016, "Revisiting the Interest Theory of Rights: Discussion of The Morality of Freedom," Jerusalem Review of Legal Studies, 14: 147-57.

Pettit, P., 1988, "The Consequentialist can Recognize Rights," Philosophical Quarterly, 38: 42-55.

Plamenatz, J., 1938, Consent, Freedom, and Political Obligation, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Quinn, W., 1993, Morality and Action, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Quong, J. and R. Stone, 2015, "Rules and Rights," in D. Sobel, P. Vallentyne, and S. Wall (eds.), Oxford Studies in Political Philosophy (Volume 1), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Rainbolt, G., 2006, The Concept of Rights, Dordrecht: Springer.

Rawls, J., 1971, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Raz, J., 1975, Practical Reason and Norms, London: Hutchinson.

---, 1986, The Morality of Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1995, Ethics in the Public Domain, (Revised Edition), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Sandel, M., 1982, Liberalism and the Limits of Justice, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Scanlon, T., 1977, "Rights, Goals, and Fairness," in Waldron 1984, pp. 137-52.

---, 2003, The Difficulty of Tolerance, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2013, "Reply to Leif Wenar", Journal of Moral Philosophy, 10: 400-05.

Schaab, J., 2018, "Why is it Disrespectful to Violate Rights: Contractualism and the Kind-Desire Theory," Philosophical Studies, 175: 97-116.

Schauer, F., 1984, "Can Rights Be Abused?" Philosophical Quarterly, 31: 225-30.

Schneider, E., 1986, "The Dialectic of Rights and Politics: Perspectives from the Women's Movement," New York University Law Review, 14: 589-652.

Sen, A., 1982, "Rights and Agency," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 11: 3-39.

Sen, A., 1999, Development as Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Shafer-Landau, R., 1995, "Specifying Absolute Rights," Arizona Law Review, 37: 209-24.

Shapiro, I., 1986, The Evolution of Rights in Liberal Theory: An Essay in Critical Theory, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Shue, H., 1996, Basic Rights: Subsistence, Affluence, and U.S. Foreign Policy, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Siedentop, L., 2014, Inventing the Individual, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Sinnott-Armstrong, W., 1996, "Moral Dilemmas and Rights", in H. E. Mason (ed.), Moral Dilemmas and Moral Theory, New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 48-65.

Skorupski, J., 2010, The Domain of Reasons, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Sreenivasan, G., 2005, "A Hybrid Theory of Claim-Rights," Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 25: 257-74.

---, 2010, "Duties and Their Direction," Ethics, 120 (3): 465-494.

Steiner, H., 1994, An Essay on Rights, Oxford, Blackwell.

---, 2013, "Directed Duties and Inalienable Rights," Ethics, 123: 230-44.

Sumner, L., 1987, The Moral Foundations of Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Taylor, C., 1979, "Atomism," in A. Kontos (ed.), Powers, Possessions, and Freedom, Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Thompson, M., 2004, "What is It to Wrong Someone? A Puzzle About Justice," in R.J. Wallace, P. Pettit, S., Scheffler, and M. Smith (eds.), Reason and Value: Themes from the Moral Philosophy of Joseph Raz, Oxford: Clarendon.

Thomson, J., 1990, The Realm of Rights, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Tierney, B., 1997, The Idea of Natural Rights, Atlanta: Scholars Press.

Tushnet, M., 1984, "An Essay on Rights," Texas Law Review, 62: 1363-1403.

Vallentyne, P., and H. Steiner (eds.), 2000, Left Libertarianism and its Critics: The Contemporary Debate, New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Van Duffel, S., 2012a, "In Defense of the Will Theory of Rights," Res Publica, 18: 231-31.

---, 2012b, "The Nature of Rights Debate Rests on a Mistake," Philosophical Quarterly, 93: 104-23.

Waldron, J. (ed.), 1984, Theories of Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, (ed.), 1987a, Nonsense Upon Stilts: Bentham, Burke, and Marx on the Rights of Man, London: Methuen.

---, 1987b, "Nonsense Upon Stilts?-A Reply," in Waldron 1987a, pp. 151-209.

---, 1993, Liberal Rights: Collected Papers 1981-1991, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Walen, A., 2019, The Mechanics of Claims and Permissible Killing in War, New York: Oxford University Press.

Wellman, C., 1985, A Theory of Rights, Totowa, NJ: Rowman & Allanheld.

---, 1995, Real Rights, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1997, An Approach to Rights, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Wellman, C. H., 2017, Rights, Forfeiture, and Punishment, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Wenar, L., 2003, "Legal Rights and Epistemic Rights," Analysis, 63: 142-46.

---, 2005, "The Nature of Rights," Philosophy and Public Affairs, 33: 223-53.

---, 2008, "The Analysis of Rights," in M. Kramer, C. Grant, B. Colburn, and A. Hatzistavrou (eds.), The Legacy of H. L. A. Hart, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 251-73.

---, 2013a, "Rights and What We Owe to Each Other," Journal of Moral Philosophy, 10: 375-99.

---, 2013b, "The Nature of Claim-Rights," Ethics, 123: 202-29.

Whelan, D., 2010, Indivisible Human Rights: A History, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Williams, G., 1968, "The Concept of a Legal Liberty", in R. Summers (ed.), Essays in Legal Philosophy, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 121-44.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
A right to life, a right to choose; a right to vote, to work, to strike; a right to one phone call, to dissolve parliament, to operate a forklift, to asylum, to equal treatment before the law, to feel proud of what one has done; a right to exist, to sentence an offender to death, to launch a nuclear first strike, to castle kingside, to a distinct genetic identity; a right to believe one's eyes, to pronounce the couple husband and wife, to be left alone, to go to hell in one's own way.

# data[].attributes.body
This video is an introduction to the political philosophy of John Stuart Mill, covering issues such as women's rights, liberty, freedom, and representative government.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
John Stuart Mill - On Liberty | Political Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses questions like can science discover all truths? Are there truths beyond science? Is science a process or a way of thinking?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
What is Philosophy of Science? | Episode 1611 | Closer To Truth

# data[].attributes.headline
6.2 Philosophy of Science: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
6.2 Philosophy of Science: A Very Short Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
This short book explores how much faith one should place in the words of scientists, questions the possibility for scientific knowledge to be "objective" and what really is science all about.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
6.3 LSE Research: Science and Philosophy of Science

# data[].attributes.subject
6.3 LSE Research: Science and Philosophy of Science

# data[].attributes.body
This video argues that all science is the result of a particular philosophical attitude. One of the tasks of philosophers of science, therefore, is to analyse science in light of these attitudes.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
LSE Research: Science and Philosophy of Science

# data[].attributes.headline
6.4 Introduction to the Philosophy of Science

# data[].attributes.subject
6.4 Introduction to the Philosophy of Science

# data[].attributes.body
A very comprehensive article covering the most important theories and developments in the philosophy of science, from romanticism to positivism, to pragmatism, realism, causality, institutional change, and more.

# data[].attributes.body
This article provides an overview of how scientific methods evolve.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
This entry could have been given the title Scientific Methods and gone on to fill volumes, or it could have been extremely short, consisting of a brief summary rejection of the idea that there is any such thing as a unique Scientific Method at all. Both unhappy prospects are due to the fact that scientific activity varies so much across disciplines, times, places, and scientists that any account which manages to unify it all will either consist of overwhelming descriptive detail, or trivial generalizations.

The choice of scope for the present entry is more optimistic, taking a cue from the recent movement in philosophy of science toward a greater attention to practice: to what scientists actually do. This "turn to practice" can be seen as the latest form of studies of methods in science, insofar as it represents an attempt at understanding scientific activity, but through accounts that are neither meant to be universal and unified, nor singular and narrowly descriptive. To some extent, different scientists at different times and places can be said to be using the same method even though, in practice, the details are different.

Whether the context in which methods are carried out is relevant, or to what extent, will depend largely on what one takes the aims of science to be and what one's own aims are. For most of the history of scientific methodology the assumption has been that the most important output of science is knowledge and so the aim of methodology should be to discover those methods by which scientific knowledge is generated.

Science was seen to embody the most successful form of reasoning (but which form?) to the most certain knowledge claims (but how certain?) on the basis of systematically collected evidence (but what counts as evidence, and should the evidence of the senses take precedence, or rational insight?) Section 2 surveys some of the history, pointing to two major themes. One theme is seeking the right balance between observation and reasoning (and the attendant forms of reasoning which employ them); the other is how certain scientific knowledge is or can be.

Section 3 turns to 20 th century debates on scientific method. In the second half of the 20 th century the epistemic privilege of science faced several challenges and many philosophers of science abandoned the reconstruction of the logic of scientific method. Views changed significantly regarding which functions of science ought to be captured and why. For some, the success of science was better identified with social or cultural features. Historical and sociological turns in the philosophy of science were made, with a demand that greater attention be paid to the non-epistemic aspects of science, such as sociological, institutional, material, and political factors. Even outside of those movements there was an increased specialization in the philosophy of science, with more and more focus on specific fields within science. The combined upshot was very few philosophers arguing any longer for a grand unified methodology of science. Sections 3 and 4 surveys the main positions on scientific method in 20 th century philosophy of science, focusing on where they differ in their preference for confirmation or falsification or for waiving the idea of a special scientific method altogether.

In recent decades, attention has primarily been paid to scientific activities traditionally falling under the rubric of method, such as experimental design and general laboratory practice, the use of statistics, the construction and use of models and diagrams, interdisciplinary collaboration, and science communication. Sections 4-6 attempt to construct a map of the current domains of the study of methods in science.

As these sections illustrate, the question of method is still central to the discourse about science. Scientific method remains a topic for education, for science policy, and for scientists. It arises in the public domain where the demarcation or status of science is at issue. Some philosophers have recently returned, therefore, to the question of what it is that makes science a unique cultural product. This entry will close with some of these recent attempts at discerning and encapsulating the activities by which scientific knowledge is achieved.

Attempting a history of scientific method compounds the vast scope of the topic. This section briefly surveys the background to modern methodological debates. What can be called the classical view goes back to antiquity, and represents a point of departure for later divergences.

We begin with a point made by Laudan (1968) in his historical survey of scientific method:

Perhaps the most serious inhibition to the emergence of the history of theories of scientific method as a respectable area of study has been the tendency to conflate it with the general history of epistemology, thereby assuming that the narrative categories and classificatory pigeon-holes applied to the latter are also basic to the former. (1968: 5)

To see knowledge about the natural world as falling under knowledge more generally is an understandable conflation. Histories of theories of method would naturally employ the same narrative categories and classificatory pigeon holes. An important theme of the history of epistemology, for example, is the unification of knowledge, a theme reflected in the question of the unification of method in science. Those who have identified differences in kinds of knowledge have often likewise identified different methods for achieving that kind of knowledge (see the entry on the unity of science).

Different views on what is known, how it is known, and what can be known are connected. Plato distinguished the realms of things into the visible and the intelligible ( The Republic, 510a, in Cooper 1997). Only the latter, the Forms, could be objects of knowledge. The intelligible truths could be known with the certainty of geometry and deductive reasoning. What could be observed of the material world, however, was by definition imperfect and deceptive, not ideal. The Platonic way of knowledge therefore emphasized reasoning as a method, downplaying the importance of observation. Aristotle disagreed, locating the Forms in the natural world as the fundamental principles to be discovered through the inquiry into nature ( Metaphysics Z, in Barnes 1984).

Aristotle is recognized as giving the earliest systematic treatise on the nature of scientific inquiry in the western tradition, one which embraced observation and reasoning about the natural world. In the Prior and Posterior Analytics, Aristotle reflects first on the aims and then the methods of inquiry into nature. A number of features can be found which are still considered by most to be essential to science. For Aristotle, empiricism, careful observation (but passive observation, not controlled experiment), is the starting point. The aim is not merely recording of facts, though. For Aristotle, science ( epistêmê) is a body of properly arranged knowledge or learning-the empirical facts, but also their ordering and display are of crucial importance. The aims of discovery, ordering, and display of facts partly determine the methods required of successful scientific inquiry. Also determinant is the nature of the knowledge being sought, and the explanatory causes proper to that kind of knowledge (see the discussion of the four causes in the entry on Aristotle on causality).

In addition to careful observation, then, scientific method requires a logic as a system of reasoning for properly arranging, but also inferring beyond, what is known by observation. Methods of reasoning may include induction, prediction, or analogy, among others. Aristotle's system (along with his catalogue of fallacious reasoning) was collected under the title the Organon. This title would be echoed in later works on scientific reasoning, such as Novum Organon by Francis Bacon, and Novum Organon Restorum by William Whewell (see below). In Aristotle's Organon reasoning is divided primarily into two forms, a rough division which persists into modern times. The division, known most commonly today as deductive versus inductive method, appears in other eras and methodologies as analysis/​synthesis, non-ampliative/​ampliative, or even confirmation/​verification. The basic idea is there are two "directions" to proceed in our methods of inquiry: one away from what is observed, to the more fundamental, general, and encompassing principles; the other, from the fundamental and general to instances or implications of principles.

The basic aim and method of inquiry identified here can be seen as a theme running throughout the next two millennia of reflection on the correct way to seek after knowledge: carefully observe nature and then seek rules or principles which explain or predict its operation. The Aristotelian corpus provided the framework for a commentary tradition on scientific method independent of science itself (cosmos versus physics.) During the medieval period, figures such as Albertus Magnus (1206-1280), Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), Robert Grosseteste (1175-1253), Roger Bacon (1214/1220-1292), William of Ockham (1287-1347), Andreas Vesalius (1514-1546), Giacomo Zabarella (1533-1589) all worked to clarify the kind of knowledge obtainable by observation and induction, the source of justification of induction, and best rules for its application. Many of their contributions we now think of as essential to science (see also Laudan 1968). As Aristotle and Plato had employed a framework of reasoning either "to the forms" or "away from the forms", medieval thinkers employed directions away from the phenomena or back to the phenomena. In analysis, a phenomena was examined to discover its basic explanatory principles; in synthesis, explanations of a phenomena were constructed from first principles.

During the Scientific Revolution these various strands of argument, experiment, and reason were forged into a dominant epistemic authority. The 16 th-18 th centuries were a period of not only dramatic advance in knowledge about the operation of the natural world-advances in mechanical, medical, biological, political, economic explanations-but also of self-awareness of the revolutionary changes taking place, and intense reflection on the source and legitimation of the method by which the advances were made. The struggle to establish the new authority included methodological moves. The Book of Nature, according to the metaphor of Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) or Francis Bacon (1561-1626), was written in the language of mathematics, of geometry and number. This motivated an emphasis on mathematical description and mechanical explanation as important aspects of scientific method. Through figures such as Henry More and Ralph Cudworth, a neo-Platonic emphasis on the importance of metaphysical reflection on nature behind appearances, particularly regarding the spiritual as a complement to the purely mechanical, remained an important methodological thread of the Scientific Revolution (see the entries on Cambridge platonists; Boyle; Henry More; Galileo).

In Novum Organum (1620), Bacon was critical of the Aristotelian method for leaping from particulars to universals too quickly. The syllogistic form of reasoning readily mixed those two types of propositions. Bacon aimed at the invention of new arts, principles, and directions. His method would be grounded in methodical collection of observations, coupled with correction of our senses (and particularly, directions for the avoidance of the Idols, as he called them, kinds of systematic errors to which naïve observers are prone.) The community of scientists could then climb, by a careful, gradual and unbroken ascent, to reliable general claims.

Bacon's method has been criticized as impractical and too inflexible for the practicing scientist. Whewell would later criticize Bacon in his System of Logic for paying too little attention to the practices of scientists. It is hard to find convincing examples of Bacon's method being put in to practice in the history of science, but there are a few who have been held up as real examples of 16 th century scientific, inductive method, even if not in the rigid Baconian mold: figures such as Robert Boyle (1627-1691) and William Harvey (1578-1657) (see the entry on Bacon).

It is to Isaac Newton (1642-1727), however, that historians of science and methodologists have paid greatest attention. Given the enormous success of his Principia Mathematica and Opticks, this is understandable. The study of Newton's method has had two main thrusts: the implicit method of the experiments and reasoning presented in the Opticks, and the explicit methodological rules given as the Rules for Philosophising (the Regulae) in Book III of the Principia. Newton's law of gravitation, the linchpin of his new cosmology, broke with explanatory conventions of natural philosophy, first for apparently proposing action at a distance, but more generally for not providing "true", physical causes. The argument for his System of the World ( Principia, Book III) was based on phenomena, not reasoned first principles. This was viewed (mainly on the continent) as insufficient for proper natural philosophy. The Regulae counter this objection, re-defining the aims of natural philosophy by re-defining the method natural philosophers should follow. (See the entry on Newton's philosophy.)

To his list of methodological prescriptions should be added Newton's famous phrase " hypotheses non fingo" (commonly translated as "I frame no hypotheses".) The scientist was not to invent systems but infer explanations from observations, as Bacon had advocated. This would come to be known as inductivism. In the century after Newton, significant clarifications of the Newtonian method were made. Colin Maclaurin (1698-1746), for instance, reconstructed the essential structure of the method as having complementary analysis and synthesis phases, one proceeding away from the phenomena in generalization, the other from the general propositions to derive explanations of new phenomena. Denis Diderot (1713-1784) and editors of the Encyclopédie did much to consolidate and popularize Newtonianism, as did Francesco Algarotti (1721-1764). The emphasis was often the same, as much on the character of the scientist as on their process, a character which is still commonly assumed. The scientist is humble in the face of nature, not beholden to dogma, obeys only his eyes, and follows the truth wherever it leads. It was certainly Voltaire (1694-1778) and du Chatelet (1706-1749) who were most influential in propagating the latter vision of the scientist and their craft, with Newton as hero. Scientific method became a revolutionary force of the Enlightenment. (See also the entries on Newton, Leibniz, Descartes, Boyle, Hume, enlightenment, as well as Shank 2008 for a historical overview.)

Not all 18 th century reflections on scientific method were so celebratory. Famous also are George Berkeley's (1685-1753) attack on the mathematics of the new science, as well as the over-emphasis of Newtonians on observation; and David Hume's (1711-1776) undermining of the warrant offered for scientific claims by inductive justification (see the entries on: George Berkeley; David Hume; Hume's Newtonianism and Anti-Newtonianism). Hume's problem of induction motivated Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) to seek new foundations for empirical method, though as an epistemic reconstruction, not as any set of practical guidelines for scientists. Both Hume and Kant influenced the methodological reflections of the next century, such as the debate between Mill and Whewell over the certainty of inductive inferences in science.

The debate between John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) and William Whewell (1794-1866) has become the canonical methodological debate of the 19 th century. Although often characterized as a debate between inductivism and hypothetico-deductivism, the role of the two methods on each side is actually more complex. On the hypothetico-deductive account, scientists work to come up with hypotheses from which true observational consequences can be deduced-hence, hypothetico-deductive. Because Whewell emphasizes both hypotheses and deduction in his account of method, he can be seen as a convenient foil to the inductivism of Mill. However, equally if not more important to Whewell's portrayal of scientific method is what he calls the "fundamental antithesis". Knowledge is a product of the objective (what we see in the world around us) and subjective (the contributions of our mind to how we perceive and understand what we experience, which he called the Fundamental Ideas). Both elements are essential according to Whewell, and he was therefore critical of Kant for too much focus on the subjective, and John Locke (1632-1704) and Mill for too much focus on the senses. Whewell's fundamental ideas can be discipline relative. An idea can be fundamental even if it is necessary for knowledge only within a given scientific discipline (e.g., chemical affinity for chemistry). This distinguishes fundamental ideas from the forms and categories of intuition of Kant. (See the entry on Whewell.)

Clarifying fundamental ideas would therefore be an essential part of scientific method and scientific progress. Whewell called this process "Discoverer's Induction". It was induction, following Bacon or Newton, but Whewell sought to revive Bacon's account by emphasising the role of ideas in the clear and careful formulation of inductive hypotheses. Whewell's induction is not merely the collecting of objective facts. The subjective plays a role through what Whewell calls the Colligation of Facts, a creative act of the scientist, the invention of a theory. A theory is then confirmed by testing, where more facts are brought under the theory, called the Consilience of Inductions. Whewell felt that this was the method by which the true laws of nature could be discovered: clarification of fundamental concepts, clever invention of explanations, and careful testing. Mill, in his critique of Whewell, and others who have cast Whewell as a fore-runner of the hypothetico-deductivist view, seem to have under-estimated the importance of this discovery phase in Whewell's understanding of method (Snyder 1997a,b, 1999). Down-playing the discovery phase would come to characterize methodology of the early 20 th century (see section 3).

Mill, in his System of Logic, put forward a narrower view of induction as the essence of scientific method. For Mill, induction is the search first for regularities among events. Among those regularities, some will continue to hold for further observations, eventually gaining the status of laws. One can also look for regularities among the laws discovered in a domain, i.e., for a law of laws. Which "law law" will hold is time and discipline dependent and open to revision. One example is the Law of Universal Causation, and Mill put forward specific methods for identifying causes-now commonly known as Mill's methods. These five methods look for circumstances which are common among the phenomena of interest, those which are absent when the phenomena are, or those for which both vary together. Mill's methods are still seen as capturing basic intuitions about experimental methods for finding the relevant explanatory factors ( System of Logic (1843), see Mill entry). The methods advocated by Whewell and Mill, in the end, look similar. Both involve inductive generalization to covering laws. They differ dramatically, however, with respect to the necessity of the knowledge arrived at; that is, at the meta-methodological level (see the entries on Whewell and Mill entries).

The quantum and relativistic revolutions in physics in the early 20 th century had a profound effect on methodology. Conceptual foundations of both theories were taken to show the defeasibility of even the most seemingly secure intuitions about space, time and bodies. Certainty of knowledge about the natural world was therefore recognized as unattainable. Instead a renewed empiricism was sought which rendered science fallible but still rationally justifiable.

Analyses of the reasoning of scientists emerged, according to which the aspects of scientific method which were of primary importance were the means of testing and confirming of theories. A distinction in methodology was made between the contexts of discovery and justification. The distinction could be used as a wedge between the particularities of where and how theories or hypotheses are arrived at, on the one hand, and the underlying reasoning scientists use (whether or not they are aware of it) when assessing theories and judging their adequacy on the basis of the available evidence. By and large, for most of the 20 th century, philosophy of science focused on the second context, although philosophers differed on whether to focus on confirmation or refutation as well as on the many details of how confirmation or refutation could or could not be brought about. By the mid-20 th century these attempts at defining the method of justification and the context distinction itself came under pressure. During the same period, philosophy of science developed rapidly, and from section 4 this entry will therefore shift from a primarily historical treatment of the scientific method towards a primarily thematic one.

Advances in logic and probability held out promise of the possibility of elaborate reconstructions of scientific theories and empirical method, the best example being Rudolf Carnap's The Logical Structure of the World (1928). Carnap attempted to show that a scientific theory could be reconstructed as a formal axiomatic system-that is, a logic. That system could refer to the world because some of its basic sentences could be interpreted as observations or operations which one could perform to test them. The rest of the theoretical system, including sentences using theoretical or unobservable terms (like electron or force) would then either be meaningful because they could be reduced to observations, or they had purely logical meanings (called analytic, like mathematical identities). This has been referred to as the verifiability criterion of meaning. According to the criterion, any statement not either analytic or verifiable was strictly meaningless. Although the view was endorsed by Carnap in 1928, he would later come to see it as too restrictive (Carnap 1956). Another familiar version of this idea is operationalism of Percy William Bridgman. In The Logic of Modern Physics (1927) Bridgman asserted that every physical concept could be defined in terms of the operations one would perform to verify the application of that concept. Making good on the operationalisation of a concept even as simple as length, however, can easily become enormously complex (for measuring very small lengths, for instance) or impractical (measuring large distances like light years.)

Carl Hempel's (1950, 1951) criticisms of the verifiability criterion of meaning had enormous influence. He pointed out that universal generalizations, such as most scientific laws, were not strictly meaningful on the criterion. Verifiability and operationalism both seemed too restrictive to capture standard scientific aims and practice. The tenuous connection between these reconstructions and actual scientific practice was criticized in another way. In both approaches, scientific methods are instead recast in methodological roles. Measurements, for example, were looked to as ways of giving meanings to terms. The aim of the philosopher of science was not to understand the methods per se, but to use them to reconstruct theories, their meanings, and their relation to the world. When scientists perform these operations, however, they will not report that they are doing them to give meaning to terms in a formal axiomatic system. This disconnect between methodology and the details of actual scientific practice would seem to violate the empiricism the Logical Positivists and Bridgman were committed to. The view that methodology should correspond to practice (to some extent) has been called historicism, or intuitionism. We turn to these criticisms and responses in section 3.4.

Positivism also had to contend with the recognition that a purely inductivist approach, along the lines of Bacon-Newton-Mill, was untenable. There was no pure observation, for starters. All observation was theory laden. Theory is required to make any observation, therefore not all theory can be derived from observation alone. (See the entry on theory and observation in science.) Even granting an observational basis, Hume had already pointed out that one could not deductively justify inductive conclusions without begging the question by presuming the success of the inductive method. Likewise, positivist attempts at analyzing how a generalization can be confirmed by observations of its instances were subject to a number of criticisms. Goodman (1965) and Hempel (1965) both point to paradoxes inherent in standard accounts of confirmation. Recent attempts at explaining how observations can serve to confirm a scientific theory are discussed in section 4 below.

The standard starting point for a non-inductive analysis of the logic of confirmation is known as the Hypothetico-Deductive (H-D) method. In its simplest form, a sentence of a theory which expresses some hypothesis is confirmed by its true consequences. As noted in section 2, this method had been advanced by Whewell in the 19 th century, as well as Nicod (1924) and others in the 20 th century. Often, Hempel's (1966) description of the H-D method, illustrated by the case of Semmelweiss' inferential procedures in establishing the cause of childbed fever, has been presented as a key account of H-D as well as a foil for criticism of the H-D account of confirmation (see, for example, Lipton's (2004) discussion of inference to the best explanation; also the entry on confirmation). Hempel described Semmelsweiss' procedure as examining various hypotheses explaining the cause of childbed fever. Some hypotheses conflicted with observable facts and could be rejected as false immediately. Others needed to be tested experimentally by deducing which observable events should follow if the hypothesis were true (what Hempel called the test implications of the hypothesis), then conducting an experiment and observing whether or not the test implications occurred. If the experiment showed the test implication to be false, the hypothesis could be rejected. If the experiment showed the test implications to be true, however, this did not prove the hypothesis true. The confirmation of a test implication does not verify a hypothesis, though Hempel did allow that "it provides at least some support, some corroboration or confirmation for it" (Hempel 1966: 8). The degree of this support then depends on the quantity, variety and precision of the supporting evidence.

Another approach that took off from the difficulties with inductive inference was Karl Popper's critical rationalism or falsificationism (Popper 1959, 1963). Falsification is deductive and similar to H-D in that it involves scientists deducing observational consequences from the hypothesis under test. For Popper, however, the important point was not the degree of confirmation that successful prediction offered to a hypothesis. The crucial thing was the logical asymmetry between confirmation, based on inductive inference, and falsification, which can be based on a deductive inference. (This simple opposition was later questioned, by Lakatos, among others. See the entry on historicist theories of scientific rationality.)

Popper stressed that, regardless of the amount of confirming evidence, we can never be certain that a hypothesis is true without committing the fallacy of affirming the consequent. Instead, Popper introduced the notion of corroboration as a measure for how well a theory or hypothesis has survived previous testing-but without implying that this is also a measure for the probability that it is true.

Popper was also motivated by his doubts about the scientific status of theories like the Marxist theory of history or psycho-analysis, and so wanted to demarcate between science and pseudo-science. Popper saw this as an importantly different distinction than demarcating science from metaphysics. The latter demarcation was the primary concern of many logical empiricists. Popper used the idea of falsification to draw a line instead between pseudo and proper science. Science was science because its method involved subjecting theories to rigorous tests which offered a high probability of failing and thus refuting the theory.

A commitment to the risk of failure was important. Avoiding falsification could be done all too easily. If a consequence of a theory is inconsistent with observations, an exception can be added by introducing auxiliary hypotheses designed explicitly to save the theory, so-called ad hoc modifications. This Popper saw done in pseudo-science where ad hoc theories appeared capable of explaining anything in their field of application. In contrast, science is risky. If observations showed the predictions from a theory to be wrong, the theory would be refuted. Hence, scientific hypotheses must be falsifiable. Not only must there exist some possible observation statement which could falsify the hypothesis or theory, were it observed, (Popper called these the hypothesis' potential falsifiers) it is crucial to the Popperian scientific method that such falsifications be sincerely attempted on a regular basis.

The more potential falsifiers of a hypothesis, the more falsifiable it would be, and the more the hypothesis claimed. Conversely, hypotheses without falsifiers claimed very little or nothing at all. Originally, Popper thought that this meant the introduction of ad hoc hypotheses only to save a theory should not be countenanced as good scientific method. These would undermine the falsifiabililty of a theory. However, Popper later came to recognize that the introduction of modifications (immunizations, he called them) was often an important part of scientific development. Responding to surprising or apparently falsifying observations often generated important new scientific insights. Popper's own example was the observed motion of Uranus which originally did not agree with Newtonian predictions. The ad hoc hypothesis of an outer planet explained the disagreement and led to further falsifiable predictions. Popper sought to reconcile the view by blurring the distinction between falsifiable and not falsifiable, and speaking instead of degrees of testability (Popper 1985: 41f.).

From the 1960s on, sustained meta-methodological criticism emerged that drove philosophical focus away from scientific method. A brief look at those criticisms follows, with recommendations for further reading at the end of the entry.

Thomas Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962) begins with a well-known shot across the bow for philosophers of science:

History, if viewed as a repository for more than anecdote or chronology, could produce a decisive transformation in the image of science by which we are now possessed. (1962: 1)

The image Kuhn thought needed transforming was the a-historical, rational reconstruction sought by many of the Logical Positivists, though Carnap and other positivists were actually quite sympathetic to Kuhn's views. (See the entry on the Vienna Circle.) Kuhn shares with other of his contemporaries, such as Feyerabend and Lakatos, a commitment to a more empirical approach to philosophy of science. Namely, the history of science provides important data, and necessary checks, for philosophy of science, including any theory of scientific method.

The history of science reveals, according to Kuhn, that scientific development occurs in alternating phases. During normal science, the members of the scientific community adhere to the paradigm in place. Their commitment to the paradigm means a commitment to the puzzles to be solved and the acceptable ways of solving them. Confidence in the paradigm remains so long as steady progress is made in solving the shared puzzles. Method in this normal phase operates within a disciplinary matrix (Kuhn's later concept of a paradigm) which includes standards for problem solving, and defines the range of problems to which the method should be applied. An important part of a disciplinary matrix is the set of values which provide the norms and aims for scientific method. The main values that Kuhn identifies are prediction, problem solving, simplicity, consistency, and plausibility.

An important by-product of normal science is the accumulation of puzzles which cannot be solved with resources of the current paradigm. Once accumulation of these anomalies has reached some critical mass, it can trigger a communal shift to a new paradigm and a new phase of normal science. Importantly, the values that provide the norms and aims for scientific method may have transformed in the meantime. Method may therefore be relative to discipline, time or place

Feyerabend also identified the aims of science as progress, but argued that any methodological prescription would only stifle that progress (Feyerabend 1988). His arguments are grounded in re-examining accepted "myths" about the history of science. Heroes of science, like Galileo, are shown to be just as reliant on rhetoric and persuasion as they are on reason and demonstration. Others, like Aristotle, are shown to be far more reasonable and far-reaching in their outlooks then they are given credit for. As a consequence, the only rule that could provide what he took to be sufficient freedom was the vacuous "anything goes". More generally, even the methodological restriction that science is the best way to pursue knowledge, and to increase knowledge, is too restrictive. Feyerabend suggested instead that science might, in fact, be a threat to a free society, because it and its myth had become so dominant (Feyerabend 1978).

An even more fundamental kind of criticism was offered by several sociologists of science from the 1970s onwards who rejected the methodology of providing philosophical accounts for the rational development of science and sociological accounts of the irrational mistakes. Instead, they adhered to a symmetry thesis on which any causal explanation of how scientific knowledge is established needs to be symmetrical in explaining truth and falsity, rationality and irrationality, success and mistakes, by the same causal factors (see, e.g., Barnes and Bloor 1982, Bloor 1991). Movements in the Sociology of Science, like the Strong Programme, or in the social dimensions and causes of knowledge more generally led to extended and close examination of detailed case studies in contemporary science and its history. (See the entries on the social dimensions of scientific knowledge and social epistemology.) Well-known examinations by Latour and Woolgar (1979/1986), Knorr-Cetina (1981), Pickering (1984), Shapin and Schaffer (1985) seem to bear out that it was social ideologies (on a macro-scale) or individual interactions and circumstances (on a micro-scale) which were the primary causal factors in determining which beliefs gained the status of scientific knowledge. As they saw it therefore, explanatory appeals to scientific method were not empirically grounded.

A late, and largely unexpected, criticism of scientific method came from within science itself. Beginning in the early 2000s, a number of scientists attempting to replicate the results of published experiments could not do so. There may be close conceptual connection between reproducibility and method. For example, if reproducibility means that the same scientific methods ought to produce the same result, and all scientific results ought to be reproducible, then whatever it takes to reproduce a scientific result ought to be called scientific method. Space limits us to the observation that, insofar as reproducibility is a desired outcome of proper scientific method, it is not strictly a part of scientific method. (See the entry on reproducibility of scientific results.)

By the close of the 20 th century the search for the scientific method was flagging. Nola and Sankey (2000b) could introduce their volume on method by remarking that "For some, the whole idea of a theory of scientific method is yester-year's debate ...".

Despite the many difficulties that philosophers encountered in trying to providing a clear methodology of conformation (or refutation), still important progress has been made on understanding how observation can provide evidence for a given theory. Work in statistics has been crucial for understanding how theories can be tested empirically, and in recent decades a huge literature has developed that attempts to recast confirmation in Bayesian terms. Here these developments can be covered only briefly, and we refer to the entry on confirmation for further details and references.

Statistics has come to play an increasingly important role in the methodology of the experimental sciences from the 19 th century onwards. At that time, statistics and probability theory took on a methodological role as an analysis of inductive inference, and attempts to ground the rationality of induction in the axioms of probability theory have continued throughout the 20 th century and in to the present. Developments in the theory of statistics itself, meanwhile, have had a direct and immense influence on the experimental method, including methods for measuring the uncertainty of observations such as the Method of Least Squares developed by Legendre and Gauss in the early 19 th century, criteria for the rejection of outliers proposed by Peirce by the mid-19 th century, and the significance tests developed by Gosset (a.k.a. "Student"), Fisher, Neyman & Pearson and others in the 1920s and 1930s (see, e.g., Swijtink 1987 for a brief historical overview; and also the entry on C.S. Peirce).

These developments within statistics then in turn led to a reflective discussion among both statisticians and philosophers of science on how to perceive the process of hypothesis testing: whether it was a rigorous statistical inference that could provide a numerical expression of the degree of confidence in the tested hypothesis, or if it should be seen as a decision between different courses of actions that also involved a value component. This led to a major controversy among Fisher on the one side and Neyman and Pearson on the other (see especially Fisher 1955, Neyman 1956 and Pearson 1955, and for analyses of the controversy, e.g., Howie 2002, Marks 2000, Lenhard 2006). On Fisher's view, hypothesis testing was a methodology for when to accept or reject a statistical hypothesis, namely that a hypothesis should be rejected by evidence if this evidence would be unlikely relative to other possible outcomes, given the hypothesis were true. In contrast, on Neyman and Pearson's view, the consequence of error also had to play a role when deciding between hypotheses. Introducing the distinction between the error of rejecting a true hypothesis (type I error) and accepting a false hypothesis (type II error), they argued that it depends on the consequences of the error to decide whether it is more important to avoid rejecting a true hypothesis or accepting a false one. Hence, Fisher aimed for a theory of inductive inference that enabled a numerical expression of confidence in a hypothesis. To him, the important point was the search for truth, not utility. In contrast, the Neyman-Pearson approach provided a strategy of inductive behaviour for deciding between different courses of action. Here, the important point was not whether a hypothesis was true, but whether one should act as if it was.

Similar discussions are found in the philosophical literature. On the one side, Churchman (1948) and Rudner (1953) argued that because scientific hypotheses can never be completely verified, a complete analysis of the methods of scientific inference includes ethical judgments in which the scientists must decide whether the evidence is sufficiently strong or that the probability is sufficiently high to warrant the acceptance of the hypothesis, which again will depend on the importance of making a mistake in accepting or rejecting the hypothesis. Others, such as Jeffrey (1956) and Levi (1960) disagreed and instead defended a value-neutral view of science on which scientists should bracket their attitudes, preferences, temperament, and values when assessing the correctness of their inferences. For more details on this value-free ideal in the philosophy of science and its historical development, see Douglas (2009) and Howard (2003). For a broad set of case studies examining the role of values in science, see e.g. Elliott & Richards 2017.

In recent decades, philosophical discussions of the evaluation of probabilistic hypotheses by statistical inference have largely focused on Bayesianism that understands probability as a measure of a person's degree of belief in an event, given the available information, and frequentism that instead understands probability as a long-run frequency of a repeatable event. Hence, for Bayesians probabilities refer to a state of knowledge, whereas for frequentists probabilities refer to frequencies of events (see, e.g., Sober 2008, chapter 1 for a detailed introduction to Bayesianism and frequentism as well as to likelihoodism). Bayesianism aims at providing a quantifiable, algorithmic representation of belief revision, where belief revision is a function of prior beliefs (i.e., background knowledge) and incoming evidence. Bayesianism employs a rule based on Bayes' theorem, a theorem of the probability calculus which relates conditional probabilities. The probability that a particular hypothesis is true is interpreted as a degree of belief, or credence, of the scientist. There will also be a probability and a degree of belief that a hypothesis will be true conditional on a piece of evidence (an observation, say) being true. Bayesianism proscribes that it is rational for the scientist to update their belief in the hypothesis to that conditional probability should it turn out that the evidence is, in fact, observed (see, e.g., Sprenger & Hartmann 2019 for a comprehensive treatment of Bayesian philosophy of science). Originating in the work of Neyman and Person, frequentism aims at providing the tools for reducing long-run error rates, such as the error-statistical approach developed by Mayo (1996) that focuses on how experimenters can avoid both type I and type II errors by building up a repertoire of procedures that detect errors if and only if they are present. Both Bayesianism and frequentism have developed over time, they are interpreted in different ways by its various proponents, and their relations to previous criticism to attempts at defining scientific method are seen differently by proponents and critics. The literature, surveys, reviews and criticism in this area are vast and the reader is referred to the entries on Bayesian epistemology and confirmation.

Attention to scientific practice, as we have seen, is not itself new. However, the turn to practice in the philosophy of science of late can be seen as a correction to the pessimism with respect to method in philosophy of science in later parts of the 20 th century, and as an attempted reconciliation between sociological and rationalist explanations of scientific knowledge. Much of this work sees method as detailed and context specific problem-solving procedures, and methodological analyses to be at the same time descriptive, critical and advisory (see Nickles 1987 for an exposition of this view). The following section contains a survey of some of the practice focuses. In this section we turn fully to topics rather than chronology.

A problem with the distinction between the contexts of discovery and justification that figured so prominently in philosophy of science in the first half of the 20 th century (see section 2) is that no such distinction can be clearly seen in scientific activity (see Arabatzis 2006). Thus, in recent decades, it has been recognized that study of conceptual innovation and change should not be confined to psychology and sociology of science, but are also important aspects of scientific practice which philosophy of science should address (see also the entry on scientific discovery). Looking for the practices that drive conceptual innovation has led philosophers to examine both the reasoning practices of scientists and the wide realm of experimental practices that are not directed narrowly at testing hypotheses, that is, exploratory experimentation.

Examining the reasoning practices of historical and contemporary scientists, Nersessian (2008) has argued that new scientific concepts are constructed as solutions to specific problems by systematic reasoning, and that of analogy, visual representation and thought-experimentation are among the important reasoning practices employed. These ubiquitous forms of reasoning are reliable-but also fallible-methods of conceptual development and change. On her account, model-based reasoning consists of cycles of construction, simulation, evaluation and adaption of models that serve as interim interpretations of the target problem to be solved. Often, this process will lead to modifications or extensions, and a new cycle of simulation and evaluation. However, Nersessian also emphasizes that

creative model-based reasoning cannot be applied as a simple recipe, is not always productive of solutions, and even its most exemplary usages can lead to incorrect solutions. (Nersessian 2008: 11)

Thus, while on the one hand she agrees with many previous philosophers that there is no logic of discovery, discoveries can derive from reasoned processes, such that a large and integral part of scientific practice is

the creation of concepts through which to comprehend, structure, and communicate about physical phenomena .... (Nersessian 1987: 11)

Similarly, work on heuristics for discovery and theory construction by scholars such as Darden (1991) and Bechtel & Richardson (1993) present science as problem solving and investigate scientific problem solving as a special case of problem-solving in general. Drawing largely on cases from the biological sciences, much of their focus has been on reasoning strategies for the generation, evaluation, and revision of mechanistic explanations of complex systems.

Addressing another aspect of the context distinction, namely the traditional view that the primary role of experiments is to test theoretical hypotheses according to the H-D model, other philosophers of science have argued for additional roles that experiments can play. The notion of exploratory experimentation was introduced to describe experiments driven by the desire to obtain empirical regularities and to develop concepts and classifications in which these regularities can be described (Steinle 1997, 2002; Burian 1997; Waters 2007)). However the difference between theory driven experimentation and exploratory experimentation should not be seen as a sharp distinction. Theory driven experiments are not always directed at testing hypothesis, but may also be directed at various kinds of fact-gathering, such as determining numerical parameters. Vice versa, exploratory experiments are usually informed by theory in various ways and are therefore not theory-free. Instead, in exploratory experiments phenomena are investigated without first limiting the possible outcomes of the experiment on the basis of extant theory about the phenomena.

The development of high throughput instrumentation in molecular biology and neighbouring fields has given rise to a special type of exploratory experimentation that collects and analyses very large amounts of data, and these new 'omics' disciplines are often said to represent a break with the ideal of hypothesis-driven science (Burian 2007; Elliott 2007; Waters 2007; O'Malley 2007) and instead described as data-driven research (Leonelli 2012; Strasser 2012) or as a special kind of "convenience experimentation" in which many experiments are done simply because they are extraordinarily convenient to perform (Krohs 2012).

The field of omics just described is possible because of the ability of computers to process, in a reasonable amount of time, the huge quantities of data required. Computers allow for more elaborate experimentation (higher speed, better filtering, more variables, sophisticated coordination and control), but also, through modelling and simulations, might constitute a form of experimentation themselves. Here, too, we can pose a version of the general question of method versus practice: does the practice of using computers fundamentally change scientific method, or merely provide a more efficient means of implementing standard methods?

Because computers can be used to automate measurements, quantifications, calculations, and statistical analyses where, for practical reasons, these operations cannot be otherwise carried out, many of the steps involved in reaching a conclusion on the basis of an experiment are now made inside a "black box", without the direct involvement or awareness of a human. This has epistemological implications, regarding what we can know, and how we can know it. To have confidence in the results, computer methods are therefore subjected to tests of verification and validation.

The distinction between verification and validation is easiest to characterize in the case of computer simulations. In a typical computer simulation scenario computers are used to numerically integrate differential equations for which no analytic solution is available. The equations are part of the model the scientist uses to represent a phenomenon or system under investigation. Verifying a computer simulation means checking that the equations of the model are being correctly approximated. Validating a simulation means checking that the equations of the model are adequate for the inferences one wants to make on the basis of that model.

A number of issues related to computer simulations have been raised. The identification of validity and verification as the testing methods has been criticized. Oreskes et al. (1994) raise concerns that "validiation", because it suggests deductive inference, might lead to over-confidence in the results of simulations. The distinction itself is probably too clean, since actual practice in the testing of simulations mixes and moves back and forth between the two (Weissart 1997; Parker 2008a; Winsberg 2010). Computer simulations do seem to have a non-inductive character, given that the principles by which they operate are built in by the programmers, and any results of the simulation follow from those in-built principles in such a way that those results could, in principle, be deduced from the program code and its inputs. The status of simulations as experiments has therefore been examined (Kaufmann and Smarr 1993; Humphreys 1995; Hughes 1999; Norton and Suppe 2001). This literature considers the epistemology of these experiments: what we can learn by simulation, and also the kinds of justifications which can be given in applying that knowledge to the "real" world. (Mayo 1996; Parker 2008b). As pointed out, part of the advantage of computer simulation derives from the fact that huge numbers of calculations can be carried out without requiring direct observation by the experimenter/​simulator. At the same time, many of these calculations are approximations to the calculations which would be performed first-hand in an ideal situation. Both factors introduce uncertainties into the inferences drawn from what is observed in the simulation.

For many of the reasons described above, computer simulations do not seem to belong clearly to either the experimental or theoretical domain. Rather, they seem to crucially involve aspects of both. This has led some authors, such as Fox Keller (2003: 200) to argue that we ought to consider computer simulation a "qualitatively different way of doing science". The literature in general tends to follow Kaufmann and Smarr (1993) in referring to computer simulation as a "third way" for scientific methodology (theoretical reasoning and experimental practice are the first two ways.). It should also be noted that the debates around these issues have tended to focus on the form of computer simulation typical in the physical sciences, where models are based on dynamical equations. Other forms of simulation might not have the same problems, or have problems of their own (see the entry on computer simulations in science).

In recent years, the rapid development of machine learning techniques has prompted some scholars to suggest that the scientific method has become "obsolete" (Anderson 2008, Carrol and Goodstein 2009). This has resulted in an intense debate on the relative merit of data-driven and hypothesis-driven research (for samples, see e.g. Mazzocchi 2015 or Succi and Coveney 2018). For a detailed treatment of this topic, we refer to the entry scientific research and big data.

Despite philosophical disagreements, the idea of the scientific method still figures prominently in contemporary discourse on many different topics, both within science and in society at large. Often, reference to scientific method is used in ways that convey either the legend of a single, universal method characteristic of all science, or grants to a particular method or set of methods privilege as a special 'gold standard', often with reference to particular philosophers to vindicate the claims. Discourse on scientific method also typically arises when there is a need to distinguish between science and other activities, or for justifying the special status conveyed to science. In these areas, the philosophical attempts at identifying a set of methods characteristic for scientific endeavors are closely related to the philosophy of science's classical problem of demarcation (see the entry on science and pseudo-science) and to the philosophical analysis of the social dimension of scientific knowledge and the role of science in democratic society.

One of the settings in which the legend of a single, universal scientific method has been particularly strong is science education (see, e.g., Bauer 1992; McComas 1996; Wivagg & Allchin 2002). Often, 'the scientific method' is presented in textbooks and educational web pages as a fixed four or five step procedure starting from observations and description of a phenomenon and progressing over formulation of a hypothesis which explains the phenomenon, designing and conducting experiments to test the hypothesis, analyzing the results, and ending with drawing a conclusion. Such references to a universal scientific method can be found in educational material at all levels of science education (Blachowicz 2009), and numerous studies have shown that the idea of a general and universal scientific method often form part of both students' and teachers' conception of science (see, e.g., Aikenhead 1987; Osborne et al. 2003). In response, it has been argued that science education need to focus more on teaching about the nature of science, although views have differed on whether this is best done through student-led investigations, contemporary cases, or historical cases (Allchin, Andersen & Nielsen 2014)

Although occasionally phrased with reference to the H-D method, important historical roots of the legend in science education of a single, universal scientific method are the American philosopher and psychologist Dewey's account of inquiry in How We Think (1910) and the British mathematician Karl Pearson's account of science in Grammar of Science (1892). On Dewey's account, inquiry is divided into the five steps of

(i) a felt difficulty, (ii) its location and definition, (iii) suggestion of a possible solution, (iv) development by reasoning of the bearing of the suggestions, (v) further observation and experiment leading to its acceptance or rejection. (Dewey 1910: 72)

Similarly, on Pearson's account, scientific investigations start with measurement of data and observation of their correction and sequence from which scientific laws can be discovered with the aid of creative imagination. These laws have to be subject to criticism, and their final acceptance will have equal validity for "all normally constituted minds". Both Dewey's and Pearson's accounts should be seen as generalized abstractions of inquiry and not restricted to the realm of science-although both Dewey and Pearson referred to their respective accounts as 'the scientific method'.

Occasionally, scientists make sweeping statements about a simple and distinct scientific method, as exemplified by Feynman's simplified version of a conjectures and refutations method presented, for example, in the last of his 1964 Cornell Messenger lectures. However, just as often scientists have come to the same conclusion as recent philosophy of science that there is not any unique, easily described scientific method. For example, the physicist and Nobel Laureate Weinberg described in the paper "The Methods of Science ... And Those By Which We Live" (1995) how

The fact that the standards of scientific success shift with time does not only make the philosophy of science difficult; it also raises problems for the public understanding of science. We do not have a fixed scientific method to rally around and defend. (1995: 8)

Interview studies with scientists on their conception of method shows that scientists often find it hard to figure out whether available evidence confirms their hypothesis, and that there are no direct translations between general ideas about method and specific strategies to guide how research is conducted (Schickore & Hangel 2019, Hangel & Schickore 2017)

Reference to the scientific method has also often been used to argue for the scientific nature or special status of a particular activity. Philosophical positions that argue for a simple and unique scientific method as a criterion of demarcation, such as Popperian falsification, have often attracted practitioners who felt that they had a need to defend their domain of practice. For example, references to conjectures and refutation as the scientific method are abundant in much of the literature on complementary and alternative medicine (CAM)-alongside the competing position that CAM, as an alternative to conventional biomedicine, needs to develop its own methodology different from that of science.

Also within mainstream science, reference to the scientific method is used in arguments regarding the internal hierarchy of disciplines and domains. A frequently seen argument is that research based on the H-D method is superior to research based on induction from observations because in deductive inferences the conclusion follows necessarily from the premises. (See, e.g., Parascandola 1998 for an analysis of how this argument has been made to downgrade epidemiology compared to the laboratory sciences.) Similarly, based on an examination of the practices of major funding institutions such as the National Institutes of Health (NIH), the National Science Foundation (NSF) and the Biomedical Sciences Research Practices (BBSRC) in the UK, O'Malley et al. (2009) have argued that funding agencies seem to have a tendency to adhere to the view that the primary activity of science is to test hypotheses, while descriptive and exploratory research is seen as merely preparatory activities that are valuable only insofar as they fuel hypothesis-driven research.

In some areas of science, scholarly publications are structured in a way that may convey the impression of a neat and linear process of inquiry from stating a question, devising the methods by which to answer it, collecting the data, to drawing a conclusion from the analysis of data. For example, the codified format of publications in most biomedical journals known as the IMRAD format (Introduction, Method, Results, Analysis, Discussion) is explicitly described by the journal editors as "not an arbitrary publication format but rather a direct reflection of the process of scientific discovery" (see the so-called "Vancouver Recommendations", ICMJE 2013: 11). However, scientific publications do not in general reflect the process by which the reported scientific results were produced. For example, under the provocative title "Is the scientific paper a fraud?", Medawar argued that scientific papers generally misrepresent how the results have been produced (Medawar 1963/1996). Similar views have been advanced by philosophers, historians and sociologists of science (Gilbert 1976; Holmes 1987; Knorr-Cetina 1981; Schickore 2008; Suppe 1998) who have argued that scientists' experimental practices are messy and often do not follow any recognizable pattern. Publications of research results, they argue, are retrospective reconstructions of these activities that often do not preserve the temporal order or the logic of these activities, but are instead often constructed in order to screen off potential criticism (see Schickore 2008 for a review of this work).

Philosophical positions on the scientific method have also made it into the court room, especially in the US where judges have drawn on philosophy of science in deciding when to confer special status to scientific expert testimony. A key case is Daubert vs Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals (92-102, 509 U.S. 579, 1993). In this case, the Supreme Court argued in its 1993 ruling that trial judges must ensure that expert testimony is reliable, and that in doing this the court must look at the expert's methodology to determine whether the proffered evidence is actually scientific knowledge. Further, referring to works of Popper and Hempel the court stated that

ordinarily, a key question to be answered in determining whether a theory or technique is scientific knowledge ... is whether it can be (and has been) tested. (Justice Blackmun, Daubert v. Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals; see Other Internet Resources for a link to the opinion)

But as argued by Haack (2005a,b, 2010) and by Foster & Hubner (1999), by equating the question of whether a piece of testimony is reliable with the question whether it is scientific as indicated by a special methodology, the court was producing an inconsistent mixture of Popper's and Hempel's philosophies, and this has later led to considerable confusion in subsequent case rulings that drew on the Daubert case (see Haack 2010 for a detailed exposition).

The difficulties around identifying the methods of science are also reflected in the difficulties of identifying scientific misconduct in the form of improper application of the method or methods of science. One of the first and most influential attempts at defining misconduct in science was the US definition from 1989 that defined misconduct as

fabrication, falsification, plagiarism, or other practices that seriously deviate from those that are commonly accepted within the scientific community. (Code of Federal Regulations, part 50, subpart A., August 8, 1989, italics added)

However, the "other practices that seriously deviate" clause was heavily criticized because it could be used to suppress creative or novel science. For example, the National Academy of Science stated in their report Responsible Science (1992) that it

wishes to discourage the possibility that a misconduct complaint could be lodged against scientists based solely on their use of novel or unorthodox research methods. (NAS: 27)

This clause was therefore later removed from the definition. For an entry into the key philosophical literature on conduct in science, see Shamoo & Resnick (2009).

The question of the source of the success of science has been at the core of philosophy since the beginning of modern science. If viewed as a matter of epistemology more generally, scientific method is a part of the entire history of philosophy. Over that time, science and whatever methods its practitioners may employ have changed dramatically. Today, many philosophers have taken up the banners of pluralism or of practice to focus on what are, in effect, fine-grained and contextually limited examinations of scientific method. Others hope to shift perspectives in order to provide a renewed general account of what characterizes the activity we call science.

One such perspective has been offered recently by Hoyningen-Huene (2008, 2013), who argues from the history of philosophy of science that after three lengthy phases of characterizing science by its method, we are now in a phase where the belief in the existence of a positive scientific method has eroded and what has been left to characterize science is only its fallibility. First was a phase from Plato and Aristotle up until the 17 th century where the specificity of scientific knowledge was seen in its absolute certainty established by proof from evident axioms; next was a phase up to the mid-19 th century in which the means to establish the certainty of scientific knowledge had been generalized to include inductive procedures as well. In the third phase, which lasted until the last decades of the 20 th century, it was recognized that empirical knowledge was fallible, but it was still granted a special status due to its distinctive mode of production. But now in the fourth phase, according to Hoyningen-Huene, historical and philosophical studies have shown how "scientific methods with the characteristics as posited in the second and third phase do not exist" (2008: 168) and there is no longer any consensus among philosophers and historians of science about the nature of science. For Hoyningen-Huene, this is too negative a stance, and he therefore urges the question about the nature of science anew. His own answer to this question is that "scientific knowledge differs from other kinds of knowledge, especially everyday knowledge, primarily by being more systematic" (Hoyningen-Huene 2013: 14). Systematicity can have several different dimensions: among them are more systematic descriptions, explanations, predictions, defense of knowledge claims, epistemic connectedness, ideal of completeness, knowledge generation, representation of knowledge and critical discourse. Hence, what characterizes science is the greater care in excluding possible alternative explanations, the more detailed elaboration with respect to data on which predictions are based, the greater care in detecting and eliminating sources of error, the more articulate connections to other pieces of knowledge, etc. On this position, what characterizes science is not that the methods employed are unique to science, but that the methods are more carefully employed.

Another, similar approach has been offered by Haack (2003). She sets off, similar to Hoyningen-Huene, from a dissatisfaction with the recent clash between what she calls Old Deferentialism and New Cynicism. The Old Deferentialist position is that science progressed inductively by accumulating true theories confirmed by empirical evidence or deductively by testing conjectures against basic statements; while the New Cynics position is that science has no epistemic authority and no uniquely rational method and is merely just politics. Haack insists that contrary to the views of the New Cynics, there are objective epistemic standards, and there is something epistemologically special about science, even though the Old Deferentialists pictured this in a wrong way. Instead, she offers a new Critical Commonsensist account on which standards of good, strong, supportive evidence and well-conducted, honest, thorough and imaginative inquiry are not exclusive to the sciences, but the standards by which we judge all inquirers. In this sense, science does not differ in kind from other kinds of inquiry, but it may differ in the degree to which it requires broad and detailed background knowledge and a familiarity with a technical vocabulary that only specialists may possess.

Aikenhead, G.S., 1987, "High-school graduates' beliefs about science-technology-society. III. Characteristics and limitations of scientific knowledge", Science Education, 71(4): 459-487.

Allchin, D., H.M. Andersen and K. Nielsen, 2014, "Complementary Approaches to Teaching Nature of Science: Integrating Student Inquiry, Historical Cases, and Contemporary Cases in Classroom Practice", Science Education, 98: 461-486.

Anderson, C., 2008, "The end of theory: The data deluge makes the scientific method obsolete", Wired magazine, 16(7): 16-07

Arabatzis, T., 2006, "On the inextricability of the context of discovery and the context of justification", in Revisiting Discovery and Justification, J. Schickore and F. Steinle (eds.), Dordrecht: Springer, pp. 215-230.

Barnes, J. (ed.), 1984, The Complete Works of Aristotle, Vols I and II, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Barnes, B. and D. Bloor, 1982, "Relativism, Rationalism, and the Sociology of Knowledge", in Rationality and Relativism, M. Hollis and S. Lukes (eds.), Cambridge: MIT Press, pp. 1-20.

Bauer, H.H., 1992, Scientific Literacy and the Myth of the Scientific Method, Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Bechtel, W. and R.C. Richardson, 1993, Discovering complexity, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Berkeley, G., 1734, The Analyst in De Motu and The Analyst: A Modern Edition with Introductions and Commentary, D. Jesseph (trans. and ed.), Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1992.

Blachowicz, J., 2009, "How science textbooks treat scientific method: A philosopher's perspective", The British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 60(2): 303-344.

Bloor, D., 1991, Knowledge and Social Imagery, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2nd edition.

Boyle, R., 1682, New experiments physico-mechanical, touching the air, Printed by Miles Flesher for Richard Davis, bookseller in Oxford.

Bridgman, P.W., 1927, The Logic of Modern Physics, New York: Macmillan.

---, 1956, "The Methodological Character of Theoretical Concepts", in The Foundations of Science and the Concepts of Science and Psychology, Herbert Feigl and Michael Scriven (eds.), Minnesota: University of Minneapolis Press, pp. 38-76.

Burian, R., 1997, "Exploratory Experimentation and the Role of Histochemical Techniques in the Work of Jean Brachet, 1938-1952", History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences, 19(1): 27-45.

---, 2007, "On microRNA and the need for exploratory experimentation in post-genomic molecular biology", History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences, 29(3): 285-311.

Carnap, R., 1928, Der logische Aufbau der Welt, Berlin: Bernary, transl. by R.A. George,The Logical Structure of the World, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967.

---, 1956, "The methodological character of theoretical concepts", Minnesota studies in the philosophy of science, 1: 38-76.

Carrol, S., and D. Goodstein, 2009, "Defining the scientific method", Nature Methods, 6: 237.

Churchman, C.W., 1948, "Science, Pragmatics, Induction", Philosophy of Science, 15(3): 249-268.

Cooper, J. (ed.), 1997, Plato: Complete Works, Indianapolis: Hackett.

Darden, L., 1991, Theory Change in Science: Strategies from Mendelian Genetics, Oxford: Oxford University Press

Dewey, J., 1910, How we think, New York: Dover Publications (reprinted 1997).

Douglas, H., 2009, Science, Policy, and the Value-Free Ideal, Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press.

Dupré, J., 2004, "Miracle of Monism ", in Naturalism in Question, Mario De Caro and David Macarthur (eds.), Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, pp. 36-58.

Elliott, K.C., 2007, "Varieties of exploratory experimentation in nanotoxicology", History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences, 29(3): 311-334.

Elliott, K. C., and T. Richards (eds.), 2017, Exploring inductive risk: Case studies of values in science, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Falcon, Andrea, 2005, Aristotle and the science of nature: Unity without uniformity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Feyerabend, P., 1978, Science in a Free Society, London: New Left Books

---, 1988, Against Method, London: Verso, 2nd edition.

Fisher, R.A., 1955, "Statistical Methods and Scientific Induction", Journal of The Royal Statistical Society. Series B (Methodological), 17(1): 69-78.

Foster, K. and P.W. Huber, 1999, Judging Science. Scientific Knowledge and the Federal Courts, Cambridge: MIT Press.

Fox Keller, E., 2003, "Models, Simulation, and 'computer experiments'", in The Philosophy of Scientific Experimentation, H. Radder (ed.), Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh University Press, 198-215.

Gilbert, G., 1976, "The transformation of research findings into scientific knowledge", Social Studies of Science, 6: 281-306.

Gimbel, S., 2011, Exploring the Scientific Method, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Goodman, N., 1965, Fact, Fiction, and Forecast, Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill.

Haack, S., 1995, "Science is neither sacred nor a confidence trick", Foundations of Science, 1(3): 323-335.

---, 2003, Defending science-within reason, Amherst: Prometheus.

---, 2005a, "Disentangling Daubert: an epistemological study in theory and practice", Journal of Philosophy, Science and Law, 5,Haack 2005a available online. doi:10.5840/jpsl2005513

---, 2005b, "Trial and error: The Supreme Court's philosophy of science", American Journal of Public Health, 95: S66-S73.

---, 2010, "Federal Philosophy of Science: A Deconstruction-and a Reconstruction", NYUJL & Liberty, 5: 394.

Hangel, N. and J. Schickore, 2017, "Scientists' conceptions of good research practice", Perspectives on Science, 25(6): 766-791

Harper, W.L., 2011, Isaac Newton's Scientific Method: Turning Data into Evidence about Gravity and Cosmology, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hempel, C., 1950, "Problems and Changes in the Empiricist Criterion of Meaning", Revue Internationale de Philosophie, 41(11): 41-63.

---, 1951, "The Concept of Cognitive Significance: A Reconsideration", Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, 80(1): 61-77.

---, 1965, Aspects of scientific explanation and other essays in the philosophy of science, New York-London: Free Press.

---, 1966, Philosophy of Natural Science, Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.

Holmes, F.L., 1987, "Scientific writing and scientific discovery", Isis, 78(2): 220-235.

Howard, D., 2003, "Two left turns make a right: On the curious political career of North American philosophy of science at midcentury", in Logical Empiricism in North America, G.L. Hardcastle & A.W. Richardson (eds.), Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 25-93.

Hoyningen-Huene, P., 2008, "Systematicity: The nature of science", Philosophia, 36(2): 167-180.

---, 2013, Systematicity. The Nature of Science, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Howie, D., 2002, Interpreting probability: Controversies and developments in the early twentieth century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hughes, R., 1999, "The Ising Model, Computer Simulation, and Universal Physics", in Models as Mediators, M. Morgan and M. Morrison (eds.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 97-145

Hume, D., 1739, A Treatise of Human Nature, D. Fate Norton and M.J. Norton (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.

Humphreys, P., 1995, "Computational science and scientific method", Minds and Machines, 5(1): 499-512.

ICMJE, 2013, "Recommendations for the Conduct, Reporting, Editing, and Publication of Scholarly Work in Medical Journals", International Committee of Medical Journal Editors, available online, accessed August 13 2014

Jeffrey, R.C., 1956, "Valuation and Acceptance of Scientific Hypotheses", Philosophy of Science, 23(3): 237-246.

Kaufmann, W.J., and L.L. Smarr, 1993, Supercomputing and the Transformation of Science, New York: Scientific American Library.

Knorr-Cetina, K., 1981, The Manufacture of Knowledge, Oxford: Pergamon Press.

Krohs, U., 2012, "Convenience experimentation", Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and BiomedicalSciences, 43: 52-57.

Kuhn, T.S., 1962, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago: University of Chicago Press

Latour, B. and S. Woolgar, 1986, Laboratory Life: The Construction of Scientific Facts, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2nd edition.

Laudan, L., 1968, "Theories of scientific method from Plato to Mach", History of Science, 7(1): 1-63.

Lenhard, J., 2006, "Models and statistical inference: The controversy between Fisher and Neyman-Pearson", The British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 57(1): 69-91.

Leonelli, S., 2012, "Making Sense of Data-Driven Research in the Biological and the Biomedical Sciences", Studies in the History and Philosophy of the Biological and Biomedical Sciences, 43(1): 1-3.

Levi, I., 1960, "Must the scientist make value judgments?", Philosophy of Science, 57(11): 345-357

Lindley, D., 1991, Theory Change in Science: Strategies from Mendelian Genetics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lipton, P., 2004, Inference to the Best Explanation, London: Routledge, 2nd edition.

Marks, H.M., 2000, The progress of experiment: science and therapeutic reform in the United States, 1900-1990, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Mazzochi, F., 2015, "Could Big Data be the end of theory in science?", EMBO reports, 16: 1250-1255.

Mayo, D.G., 1996, Error and the Growth of Experimental Knowledge, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

McComas, W.F., 1996, "Ten myths of science: Reexamining what we think we know about the nature of science", School Science and Mathematics, 96(1): 10-16.

Medawar, P.B., 1963/1996, "Is the scientific paper a fraud", in The Strange Case of the Spotted Mouse and Other Classic Essays on Science, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 33-39.

Mill, J.S., 1963, Collected Works of John Stuart Mill, J. M. Robson (ed.), Toronto: University of Toronto Press

NAS, 1992, Responsible Science: Ensuring the integrity of the research process, Washington DC: National Academy Press.

Nersessian, N.J., 1987, "A cognitive-historical approach to meaning in scientific theories", in The process of science, N. Nersessian (ed.), Berlin: Springer, pp. 161-177.

---, 2008, Creating Scientific Concepts, Cambridge: MIT Press.

Newton, I., 1726, Philosophiae naturalis Principia Mathematica (3rd edition), in The Principia: Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy: A New Translation, I.B. Cohen and A. Whitman (trans.), Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999.

---, 1704, Opticks or A Treatise of the Reflections, Refractions, Inflections & Colors of Light, New York: Dover Publications, 1952.

Neyman, J., 1956, "Note on an Article by Sir Ronald Fisher", Journal of the Royal Statistical Society. Series B (Methodological), 18: 288-294.

Nickles, T., 1987, "Methodology, heuristics, and rationality", in Rational changes in science: Essays on Scientific Reasoning, J.C. Pitt (ed.), Berlin: Springer, pp. 103-132.

Nicod, J., 1924, Le problème logique de l'induction, Paris: Alcan. (Engl. transl. "The Logical Problem of Induction", inFoundations of Geometry and Induction, London: Routledge, 2000.)

Nola, R. and H. Sankey, 2000a, "A selective survey of theories of scientific method", in Nola and Sankey 2000b: 1-65.

---, 2000b, After Popper, Kuhn and Feyerabend. Recent Issues in Theories of Scientific Method, London: Springer.

---, 2007, Theories of Scientific Method, Stocksfield: Acumen.

Norton, S., and F. Suppe, 2001, "Why atmospheric modeling is good science", in Changing the Atmosphere: Expert Knowledge and Environmental Governance, C. Miller and P. Edwards (eds.), Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 88-133.

O'Malley, M., 2007, "Exploratory experimentation and scientific practice: Metagenomics and the proteorhodopsin case", History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences, 29(3): 337-360.

O'Malley, M., C. Haufe, K. Elliot, and R. Burian, 2009, "Philosophies of Funding", Cell, 138: 611-615.

Oreskes, N., K. Shrader-Frechette, and K. Belitz, 1994, "Verification, Validation and Confirmation of Numerical Models in the Earth Sciences", Science, 263(5147): 641-646.

Osborne, J., S. Simon, and S. Collins, 2003, "Attitudes towards science: a review of the literature and its implications", International Journal of Science Education, 25(9): 1049-1079.

Parascandola, M., 1998, "Epidemiology-2nd-Rate Science",Public Health Reports, 113(4): 312-320.

Parker, W., 2008a, "Franklin, Holmes and the Epistemology of Computer Simulation", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 22(2): 165-83.

---, 2008b, "Computer Simulation through an Error-Statistical Lens", Synthese, 163(3): 371-84.

Pearson, K. 1892, The Grammar of Science, London: J.M. Dents and Sons, 1951

Pearson, E.S., 1955, "Statistical Concepts in Their Relation to Reality", Journal of the Royal Statistical Society, B, 17: 204-207.

Pickering, A., 1984, Constructing Quarks: A Sociological History of Particle Physics, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Popper, K.R., 1959, The Logic of Scientific Discovery, London: Routledge, 2002

---, 1963, Conjectures and Refutations, London: Routledge, 2002.

---, 1985, Unended Quest: An Intellectual Autobiography, La Salle: Open Court Publishing Co..

Rudner, R., 1953, "The Scientist Qua Scientist Making Value Judgments", Philosophy of Science, 20(1): 1-6.

Rudolph, J.L., 2005, "Epistemology for the masses: The origin of 'The Scientific Method' in American Schools", History of Education Quarterly, 45(3): 341-376

Schickore, J., 2008, "Doing science, writing science", Philosophy of Science, 75: 323-343.

Schickore, J. and N. Hangel, 2019, "'It might be this, it should be that...' uncertainty and doubt in day-to-day science practice", European Journal for Philosophy of Science, 9(2): 31. doi:10.1007/s13194-019-0253-9

Shamoo, A.E. and D.B. Resnik, 2009, Responsible Conduct of Research, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Shank, J.B., 2008, The Newton Wars and the Beginning of the French Enlightenment, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Shapin, S. and S. Schaffer, 1985, Leviathan and the air-pump, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Smith, G.E., 2002, "The Methodology of the Principia", in The Cambridge Companion to Newton, I.B. Cohen and G.E. Smith (eds.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 138-173.

Snyder, L.J., 1997a, "Discoverers' Induction", Philosophy of Science, 64: 580-604.

---, 1997b, "The Mill-Whewell Debate: Much Ado About Induction", Perspectives on Science, 5: 159-198.

---, 1999, "Renovating the Novum Organum: Bacon, Whewell and Induction", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 30: 531-557.

Sober, E., 2008, Evidence and Evolution. The logic behind the science, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

Sprenger, J. and S. Hartmann, 2019, Bayesian philosophy of science, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Steinle, F., 1997, "Entering New Fields: Exploratory Uses of Experimentation", Philosophy of Science (Proceedings), 64: S65-S74.

---, 2002, "Experiments in History and Philosophy of Science", Perspectives on Science, 10(4): 408-432.

Strasser, B.J., 2012, "Data-driven sciences: From wonder cabinets to electronic databases", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part C: Studies in History and Philosophy of Biological and Biomedical Sciences, 43(1): 85-87.

Succi, S. and P.V. Coveney, 2018, "Big data: the end of the scientific method?", Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A, 377: 20180145. doi:10.1098/rsta.2018.0145

Suppe, F., 1998, "The Structure of a Scientific Paper", Philosophy of Science, 65(3): 381-405.

Swijtink, Z.G., 1987, "The objectification of observation: Measurement and statistical methods in the nineteenth century", in The probabilistic revolution. Ideas in History, Vol. 1, L. Kruger (ed.), Cambridge MA: MIT Press, pp. 261-285.

Waters, C.K., 2007, "The nature and context of exploratory experimentation: An introduction to three case studies of exploratory research", History and Philosophy of the Life Sciences, 29(3): 275-284.

Weinberg, S., 1995, "The methods of science... and those by which we live", Academic Questions, 8(2): 7-13.

Weissert, T., 1997, The Genesis of Simulation in Dynamics: Pursuing the Fermi-Pasta-Ulam Problem, New York: Springer Verlag.

William H., 1628, Exercitatio Anatomica de Motu Cordis et Sanguinis in Animalibus, in On the Motion of the Heart and Blood in Animals, R. Willis (trans.), Buffalo: Prometheus Books, 1993.

Winsberg, E., 2010, Science in the Age of Computer Simulation, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Wivagg, D. & D. Allchin, 2002, "The Dogma of the Scientific Method", The American Biology Teacher, 64(9): 645-646

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
This entry could have been given the title Scientific Methods and gone on to fill volumes, or it could have been extremely short, consisting of a brief summary rejection of the idea that there is any such thing as a unique Scientific Method at all.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the question: what is meant by progress in science?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The idea that science is a collective enterprise of researchers in successive generations is characteristic of the Modern Age (Nisbet 1980). Classical empiricists (Francis Bacon) and rationalists (René Descartes) of the seventeenth century urged that the use of proper methods of inquiry guarantees the discovery and justification of new truths. This cumulative view of scientific progress was an important ingredient in the optimism of the eighteenth century Enlightenment, and it was incorporated in the 1830s in Auguste Comte's program of positivism: by accumulating empirically certified truths science also promotes progress in society. Other influential trends in the nineteenth century were the Romantic vision of organic growth in culture, Hegel's dynamic account of historical change, and the theory of evolution. They all inspired epistemological views (e.g., among Marxists and pragmatists) which regarded human knowledge as a process. Philosopher-scientists with an interest in the history of science (William Whewell, Charles Peirce, Ernst Mach, Pierre Duhem) gave interesting analyses of some aspects of scientific change.

In the early twentieth century, analytic philosophers of science started to apply modern logic to the study of science. Their main focus was the structure of scientific theories and patterns of inference (Suppe 1977). This "synchronic" investigation of the "finished products" of scientific activities was questioned by philosophers who wished to pay serious attention to the "diachronic" study of scientific change. Among these contributions one can mention N.R. Hanson's Patterns of Discovery (1958), Karl Popper's The Logic of Scientific Discovery (1959) and Conjectures and Refutations (1963), Thomas Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962), Paul Feyerabend's incommensurability thesis (Feyerabend 1962), Imre Lakatos' methodology of scientific research programmes (Lakatos and Musgrave 1970), and Larry Laudan's Progress and Its Problems (1977). Darwinist models of evolutionary epistemology were advocated by Popper's Objective Knowledge: An Evolutionary Approach (1972) and Stephen Toulmin's Human Understanding (1972). These works challenged the received view about the development of scientific knowledge and rationality. Popper's falsificationism, Kuhn's account of scientific revolutions, and Feyerabend's thesis of meaning variance shared the view that science does not grow simply by accumulating new established truths upon old ones. Except perhaps during periods of Kuhnian normal science, theory change is not cumulative or continuous: the earlier results of science will be rejected, replaced, and reinterpreted by new theories and conceptual frameworks. Popper and Kuhn differed, however, in their definitions of progress: the former appealed to the idea that successive theories may approach towards the truth, while the latter characterized progress in terms of the problem-solving capacity of theories.

Since the mid-1970s, a great number of philosophical works have been published on the topics of change, development, and progress in science (Harré 1975; Stegmüller 1976; Howson 1976; Rescher 1978; Radnitzky and Andersson 1978, 1979; Niiniluoto and Tuomela 1979; Dilworth 1981; Smith 1981; Hacking 1981; Schäfer 1983; Niiniluoto 1984; Laudan 1984a; Rescher 1984; Pitt 1985; Radnitzky and Bartley 1987; Callebaut and Pinxten 1987; Balzer et al. 1987; Hull 1988; Gavroglu et al. 1989; Kitcher 1993; Pera 1994; Chang 2004; Maxwell 2017). These studies have also led to many important novelties being added to the toolbox of philosophers of science. One of them is the systematic study of inter-theory relations, such as reduction (Balzer et al. 1984; Pearce 1987; Balzer 2000; Jonkisz 2000; Hoyningen-Huene and Sankey 2001), correspondence (Krajewski 1977; Nowak 1980; Pearce and Rantala 1984; Nowakowa and Nowak 2000; Rantala 2002), and belief revision (Gärdenfors, 1988; Aliseda, 2006). Another was the recognition that, besides individual statements and theories, there is also a need to consider temporally developing units of scientific activity and achievement: Kuhn's paradigm-directed normal science, Lakatos' research programme, Laudan's research tradition, Wolfgang Stegmüller's (1976) dynamic theory evolution, Philip Kitcher's (1993) consensus practice. A new tool that is employed in many defenses of realist views of scientific progress (Niiniluoto 1980, 2014; Aronson, Harré, and Way 1994; Kuipers 2000, 2019) is the notion of truthlikeness or verisimilitude (Popper 1963, 1970).

Lively interest about the development of science promoted close co-operation between historians and philosophers of science. For example, case studies of historical examples (e.g., the replacement of Newton's classical mechanics by quantum theory and theory of relativity) have inspired many philosophical treatments of scientific revolutions. Historical case studies were important for philosophers who started to study scientific discovery (Hanson 1958; Nickles 1980). Historically oriented philosophers have shown how instruments and measurements have promoted the progress of physics and chemistry (Chang 2004). Experimental psychologists have argued that the strive for broad and simple explanations shapes learning and inference (Lombrozo 2016). Further interesting material for philosophical discussions about scientific progress is provided by quantitative approaches in the study of the growth of scientific publications (de Solla Price 1963; Rescher 1978) and science indicators (Elkana et al. 1978). Sociologists of science have studied the dynamic interaction between the scientific community and other social institutions. With their influence, philosophers have analyzed the role social and cultural values in the development of science (Longino 2002). One of the favorite topics of sociologists has been the emergence of new scientific specialties (Mulkay 1975; Niiniluoto 1995b). Sociologists are also concerned with the pragmatic problem of progress: what is the best way of organizing research activities in order to promote scientific advance. In this way, models of scientific change turn out to be relevant to issues of science policy (Böhme 1977; Schäfer 1983).

Science is a multi-layered complex system involving a community of scientists engaged in research using scientific methods in order to produce new knowledge. Thus, the notion of science may refer to a social institution, the researchers, the research process, the method of inquiry, and scientific knowledge. The concept of progress can be defined relative to each of these aspects of science. Hence, different types of progress can be distinguished relative to science: economical (the increased funding of scientific research), professional (the rising status of the scientists and their academic institutions in the society), educational (the increased skill and expertise of the scientists), methodical (the invention of new methods of research, the refinement of scientific instruments), and cognitive (increase or advancement of scientific knowledge). These types of progress have to be conceptually distinguished from advances in other human activities, even though it may turn out that scientific progress has at least some factual connections with technological progress (increased effectiveness of tools and techniques) and social progress (economic prosperity, quality of life, justice in society).

All of these aspects of scientific progress may involve different considerations, so that there is no single concept that would cover all of them. For our purposes, it is appropriate here to concentrate only on cognitive progress, i.e., to give an account of advances of science in terms of its success in knowledge-seeking or truth-seeking.

"Progress" is an axiological or a normative concept, which should be distinguished from such neutral descriptive terms as "change" and "development" (Niiniluoto 1995a). In general, to say that a step from stage \(A\) to stage \(B\) constitutes progress means that \(B\) is an improvement over \(A\) in some respect, i.e., \(B\) is better than \(A\) relative to some standards or criteria. In science, it is a normative demand that all contributions to research should yield some cognitive profit, and their success in this respect can be assessed before publication by referees (peer review) and after publication by colleagues. Hence, the theory of scientific progress is not merely a descriptive account of the patterns of developments that science has in fact followed. Rather, it should give a specification of the values or aims that can be used as the constitutive criteria for "good science."

The "naturalist" program in science studies suggests that normative questions in the philosophy of science can be reduced to historical and sociological investigations of the actual practice of science. In this spirit, Laudan has defended the project of testing philosophical models of scientific change by the history of science: such models, which are "often couched in normative language," can be recast "into declarative statements about how science does behave" (Laudan et al. 1986; Donovan et al. 1988). It may be the case that most scientific work, at least the best science of each age, is also good science. But it is also evident that scientists often have different opinions about the criteria of good science, and rival researchers and schools make different choices in their preference of theories and research programs. Therefore, it can be argued against the naturalists that progress should not be defined by the actual developments of science: the definition of progress should give us a normative standard for appraising the choices that the scientific communities have made, could have made, are just now making, and will make in the future. The task of finding and defending such standards is a genuinely philosophical one which can be enlightened by history and sociology but which cannot be reduced to empirical studies of science. For the same reason, Mizrahi's (2013) empirical observation that scientists talk about the aim of science in terms of knowledge rather than merely truth cannot settle the philosophical debate about scientific progress (cf. Bird, 2007, Niiniluoto, 2014).

For many goal-directed activities it is important to distinguish between quality and progress. Quality is primarily an activity-oriented concept, concerning the skill and competence in the performance of some task. Progress is a result-oriented concept, concerning the success of a product relative to some goal. All acceptable work in science has to fulfill certain standards of quality. But it seems that there are no necessary connections between quality and progress in science. Sometimes very well-qualified research projects fail to produce important new results, while less competent but more lucky works lead to success. Nevertheless, the skillful use of the methods of science will make progress highly probable. Hence, the best practical strategy in promoting scientific progress is to support high-quality research.

The failure of science indicators to function as definitions of scientific progress is due to the fact that they do not take into account the semantic content of scientific publications. To determine whether a work \(W\) gives a contribution to scientific progress, we have to specify what \(W\) says (alternatively: what problems \(W\) solves) and then relate this content of \(W\) to the knowledge situation of the scientific community at the time of the publication of \(W\). For the same reason, research assessment exercises may use science indicators as tools, but ultimately they have to rely on the judgment of peers who have substantial knowledge in the field.

The classical sceptic argument against science, repeated by Laudan (1984a), is that knowing the truth is a utopian task. Kant's answer to this argument was to regard truth as a regulative principle for science. Charles S. Peirce, the founder of American pragmatism, argued that the access to the truth as the ideal limit of scientific inquiry is "destined" or guaranteed in an "indefinite" community of investigators. Almeder's (1983) interpretation of Peirce's view of scientific progress is that there is only a finite number of scientific problems and they will all be solved in a finite time. However, there does not seem to be any reason to think that truth is generally accessible in this strong sense. Therefore, the crucial question is whether it is possible to make rational appraisals that we have made progress in the direction of the truth (see Section 3.4).

A goal is effectively recognizable if there are routine or mechanical tests for showing that the goal has been reached or approached. If the defining criteria of progress are not recognizable in this strong sense, we have to distinguish true or real progress from our perceptions or estimations of progress. In other words, claims of the form 'The step from stage \(A\) to stage \(B\) is progressive' have to be distinguished from our appraisals of the form 'The step from stage \(A\) to stage \(B\) seems progressive on the available evidence'. The latter appraisals, as our own judgments, are recognizable, but the former claims may be correct without our knowing it. Characteristics and measures that help us to make such appraisals are then indicators of progress.

Laudan requires that a rational goal for science should be accessible and effectively recognizable (Laudan 1977, 1984a). This requirement, which he uses to rule out truth as a goal of science, is very strong. The demands of rationality cannot dictate that a goal has to be given up, if there are reasonable indicators of progress towards it.

A goal may be backward-looking or forward-looking: it may refer to the starting point or to the destination point of an activity. If my aim is to travel as far from home as possible, my success is measured by my distance from Helsinki. If I wish to become ever better and better piano player, my improvement can be assessed relative to my earlier stages, not to any ideal Perfect Pianist. But if I want to travel to San Francisco, my progress is a function of my distance from the destination. Only in the special case, where there is only one way from \(A\) to \(B\), the backward-looking and the forward-looking criteria (i.e., distance from \(A\) and distance to \(B)\) determine each other.

Kuhn and Stegmüller were advocating backward-looking criteria of progress. In arguing against the view that "the proper measure of scientific achievement is the extent to which it brings us closer to" the ultimate goal of "one full, objective true account of nature," Kuhn suggested that we should "learn to substitute evolution-from-what-we-know for evolution-toward-what-we-wish-to-know" (Kuhn 1970, p. 171). In the same spirit, Stegmüller (1976) argued that we should reject all variants of "a teleological metaphysics" defining progress in terms of "coming closer and closer to the truth."

A compromise between forward-looking and backward-looking criteria can be proposed in the following way. If science is viewed as a knowledge-seeking activity, it is natural to define real progress in forward-looking terms: the cognitive aim of science is to know something that is still unknown, and our real progress depends on our distance from this destination. But, as this goal is unknown to us, our estimates or perceptions of progress have to be based on backward-looking evidential considerations. This kind of view of the aims of science does not presuppose the existence of one unique ultimate goal. To use Levi's words, our goals may be "myopic" rather than "messianic" (Levi 1985): the particular target that we wish to hit in the course of our inquiry has to be redefined "locally," relative to each cognitive problem situation. Furthermore, in addition to the multiplicity of the possible targets, there may be several roads that lead to the same destination. The forward-looking character of the goals of inquiry does not exclude what Stegmüller calls "progress branching." This is analogous to the simple fact that we may approach San Francisco from New York along two different ways-via Chicago or St Louis.

Some philosophers use the concepts of progress and rationality as synonyms: progressive steps in science are precisely those that are based upon the scientists' rational choices. One possible objection is that scientific discoveries are progressive when they introduce novel ideas, even though they cannot be fully explained in rational terms (Popper 1959; cf. Hanson 1958; Kleiner 1993). However, another problem is more relevant here: By whose lights should such steps be evaluated? This question is urgent especially if we acknowledge that standards of good science have changed in history (Laudan 1984a).

A major controversy among philosophers of science is between instrumentalist and realist views of scientific theories (Leplin 1984; Psillos 1999; Niiniluoto 1999a; Saatsi 2018). The instrumentalists follow Duhem in thinking that theories are merely conceptual tools for classifying, systematizing and predicting observational statements, so that the genuine content of science is not to be found on the level of theories (Duhem 1954). Scientific realists, by contrast, regard theories as attempts to describe reality even beyond the realm of observable things and regularities, so that theories can be regarded as statements having a truth value. Excluding naive realists, most scientists are fallibilists in Peirce's sense: scientific theories are hypothetical and always corrigible in principle. They may happen to be true, but we cannot know this for certain in any particular case. But even when theories are false, they can be cognitively valuable if they are closer to the truth than their rivals (Popper 1963). Theories should be testable by observational evidence, and success in empirical tests gives inductive confirmation (Hintikka 1968; Kuipers 2000) or non-inductive corroboration to the theory (Popper 1959).

It might seem natural to expect that the main rival accounts of scientific progress would be based upon the positions of instrumentalism and realism. But this is only partly true. To be sure, naive realists as a rule hold the accumulation-of-truths view of progress, and many philosophers combine the realist view of theories with the axiological thesis that truth is an important goal of scientific inquiry. A non-cumulative version of the realist view of progress can be formulated by using the notion of truthlikeness. But there are also philosophers who accept the possibility of a realist treatment of theories, but still deny that truth is a relevant value of science which could have a function in the characterization of scientific progress. Bas van Fraassen's (1980) constructive empiricism takes the desideratum of science to be empirical adequacy: what a theory says about the observable should be true. The acceptance of a theory involves only the claim that it is empirically adequate, not its truth on the theoretical level. Van Fraassen has not developed an account of scientific progress in terms of his constructive empiricism, but presumably such an account would be close to empiricist notions of reduction and Laudan's account of problem-solving ability (see Section 3.2).

An instrumentalist who denies that theories have truth values usually defines scientific progress by referring to other virtues theories may have, such as their increasing empirical success. In 1906 Duhem expressed this idea by a simile: scientific progress is like a mounting tide, where waves rise and withdraw, but under this to-and-fro motion there is a slow and constant progress. However, he gave a realist twist to his view by assuming that theories classify experimental laws, and progress means that the proposed classifications approach a "natural classification" (Duhem 1954).

Evolutionary epistemology is open to instrumentalist (Toulmin 1972) and realist (Popper 1972) interpretations (Callebaut and Pinxten 1987; Radnitzky and Bartley 1987). A biological approach to human knowledge naturally gives emphasis to the pragmatist view that theories function as instruments of survival. Darwinist evolution in biology is not goal-directed with a fixed forward-looking goal; rather, species adapt themselves to an ever changing environment. In applying this account to the problem of knowledge-seeking, the fitness of a theory can be taken to mean that the theory is accepted by members of the scientific community. But a realist can reinterpret the evolutionary model by taking fitness to mean the truth or truthlikeness of a theory (Niiniluoto 1984).

For a constructive empiricist, it would be natural to think that among empirically adequate theories one theory \(T_{2}\) is better than another theory \(T_{1}\) if \(T_{2}\) entails more true observational statements than \(T_{1}\). Such a comparison makes sense at least if the observation statements entailed by \(T_{1}\) are a proper subset of those entailed by \(T_{2}\). Kemeny and Oppenheim (1956) gave a similar condition in their definition of reduction: \(T_{1}\) is reducible to \(T_{2}\) if and only if \(T_{2}\) is at least as well systematized as \(T_{1}\) and \(T_{2}\) is observationally stronger than \(T_{1}\), i.e., all observational statements explained by \(T_{1}\) are also consequences of \(T_{2}\). Variants of such an empirical reduction relation has been given by the structuralist school in terms of set-theoretical structures (Stegmüller 1976; Scheibe 1986; Balzer et al. 1987; Moulines 2000). A similar idea, but applied to cases where the first theory \(T_{1}\) has been falsified by some observational evidence, was used by Lakatos in his definition of empirically progressive research programmes: the new superseding theory \(T_{2}\) should have corroborated excess content relative to \(T_{1}\) and \(T_{2}\) should contain all the unrefuted content of \(T_{1}\) (Lakatos and Musgrave 1970). The definition of Kuipers (2000) allows that even the new theory \(T_{2}\) is empirically refuted: \(T_{2}\) should have (in the sense of set-theoretical inclusion) more empirical successes, but fewer empirical counter-examples than \(T_{1}\).

Against these cumulative definitions it has been argued that definitions of empirical progress have to take into account an important complication. A new theory often corrects the empirical consequences of the previous one, i.e., \(T_{2}\) entails observational statements \(e_{2}\) which are in some sense close to the corresponding consequences \(e_{1}\) of \(T_{1}\). Various models of approximate explanation and approximate reduction have been introduced to handle these situations. An important special case is the limiting correspondence relation: theory \(T_{2}\) approaches theory \(T_{1}\) (or the observational consequences of \(T_{2}\) approach those of \(T_{1})\) when some parameter in its laws approaches a limit value (e.g., theory of relativity approaches classical mechanics when the velocity of light c grows without limit). Here \(T_{2}\) is said to be a concretization of the idealized theory \(T_{1}\) (Nowak 1980; Nowakowa and Nowak 2000). However, these models do not automatically guarantee that the step from an old theory to a new one is progressive. For example, classical mechanics can be related by the correspondence condition to an infinite number of alternative and mutually incompatible theories, and some additional criteria are needed to pick out the best among them.

Kuhn's (1962) strategy was to avoid the notion of truth and to understand science as an activity of making accurate predictions and solving problems or "puzzles". Paradigm-based normal science is cumulative in terms of the problems solved, and even paradigm-changes or revolutions are progressive in the sense that "a relatively large part" of the problem-solving capacity of the old theory is preserved in the new paradigm. But, as Kuhn argued, it may happen that some problems solved by the old theory are no longer relevant or meaningful for the new theory. These cases are called "Kuhn-losses." A more systematic account of these ideas is given by Laudan (1977): the problem-solving effectiveness of a theory is defined by the number and importance of solved empirical problems minus the number and importance of the anomalies and conceptual problems that the theory generates. Here the concept of anomaly refers to a problem that a theory fails to solve, but is solved by some of its rivals. For Laudan the solution of a problem by a theory \(T\) means that the "statement of the problem" is deduced from \(T\). A good theory is thus empirically adequate, strong in its empirical content, and-Laudan adds-avoids conceptual problems.

One difficulty for the problem-solving account is to find a proper framework for identifying and counting problems (Rescher 1984; Kleiner 1993). When Newton's mechanics is applied to determine the orbit of the planet Mars, this can be counted as one problem. But, given an initial position of Mars, the same theory entails a solution to an infinite number of questions concerning the position of Mars at time \(t\). Perhaps the most important philosophical issue is whether one may consistently hold that the notion of problem-solving may be entirely divorced from truth and falsity: the realist may admit that science is a problem-solving activity, if this means the attempt to find true solutions to predictive and explanatory questions (Popper, 1972; Niiniluoto 1984). Bird's (2007) main criticism against the "functional account" of Kuhn and Laudan is its consequence that the cumulation of false solutions from an entirely false theory counts as scientific progress (e.g. Oresme in the fourteenth century believed that hot goat's blood could split diamonds).

According to Shan (2019), "science progresses if more useful research problems and their corresponding solutions are proposed". This definition involves both problem-defining and problem-solving, as illustrated by the development of early genetics from Darwin to Bateson. Shan gives up the typical Kuhn-Laudan assumption that the scientific community is able to know whether it makes progress or not, and is open to the introduction of the notions of know-how and perspectival truth, so that his "new functional approach" is a compromise with what Bird (2007) calls the "epistemic view" of progress.

A different view of problem-solving is involved in those theories which discuss problems of decision and action. A radical pragmatist view treats science as a systematic method of solving such decision problems relative to various kinds of practical utilities. According to the view called behavioralism by the statistician L J. Savage, science does not produce knowledge, but rather recommendations for actions: to accept a hypothesis is always a decision to act as if that hypothesis were true. Progress in science can then be measured by the achievement of the practical utilities of the decision maker. An alternative methodological version of pragmatism is defended by Rescher (1977) who accepts the realist view of theories with some qualifications, but argues that the progress of science has to be understood as "the increasing success of applications in problem-solving and control." Similarly, Douglas (2014), after suggesting that the distinction between pure and applied science should be relinquished, defines progress "in terms of the increased capacity to predict, control, manipulate, and intervene in various contexts." In this view, the notion of scientific progress is in effect reduced to science-based technological progress (cf. Niiniluoto 1984).

Already the ancient philosophers regarded explanation as an important function of science. The status of explanatory theories was interpreted either in an instrumentalist or realist way: Plato's school started the tradition of "saving the appearances" in astronomy, while Aristotle took theories to be necessary truths. Both parties can take explanatory power to be a criterion of a good theory, as shown by van Fraassen's (1980) constructive empiricism and Wilfrid Sellars' scientific realism (Pitt 1981; Tuomela 1985). When it is added that a good theory should also yield true empirical predictions, the notions of explanatory and predictive power can be combined within the notion of systematic power (Hempel 1965). If the demand of systematic power simply means that a theory has many true deductive consequences in the observational language, this concept is essentially equivalent to the notion of empirical success and empirical problem-solving ability discussed in Section 3.2, but normally explanation is taken to include additional structural conditions besides mere deduction (Aliseda 2006). Inductive systematization should also be taken into account (Hempel 1965; Niiniluoto and Tuomela 1973).

One important idea regarding systematization is that a good theory should unify empirical data and laws from different domains (Kitcher 1993; Schurz 2015). For Whewell, the paradigm case of such "consilience" was the successful unification of Kepler's laws and Galileo's laws by means of Newton's theory.

On the other hand, instead of requiring consensus on a single unifying theory, many philosophers have defended pluralist approaches by arguing that scientific progress needs a variety of conceptual classifications (Dupré 1993; Kitcher 2001), a non-fundamentalist patchwork of laws for "a dappled world" (Cartwright 1999), and different perspectives and values (Longino 2002).

After Hempel's pioneering work in 1948, various probabilistic measures of explanatory power have been proposed (Hempel 1965; Hintikka 1968). Most of them demand that the explanatory theory \(h\) should be positively relevant to the empirical data \(e\). This is the case also with the particular proposal \[ \frac{P(h\mid e) - P(h\mid\neg e)}{P(h\mid e) + P(h\mid\neg e)} \] defended by Schupbach and Sprenger (2011) as the unique measure which satisfies seven intuitively plausible adequacy conditions.

Realist theories of scientific progress take truth to be an important goal of inquiry. This view is built into the classical definition of knowledge as justified true belief: if science is a knowledge-seeking activity, then it is also a truth-seeking activity. However, truth cannot be the only relevant epistemic utility of inquiry. This is shown in a clear way by cognitive decision theory (Levi 1967; Niiniluoto 1987).

Let us denote by \(B = \{h_{1}, \ldots ,h_{n}\}\) a set of mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive hypotheses. Here the hypotheses in \(B\) may be the most informative descriptions of alternative states of affairs or possible worlds within a conceptual framework \(L\). For example, they may be complete theories expressible in a finite first-order language. If \(L\) is interpreted on a domain \(U\), so that each sentence of \(L\) has a truth value (true or false), it follows that there is one and only one true hypothesis (say \(h^*\)) in \(B\). Our cognitive problem is to identify the target \(h^*\) in \(B\). The elements \(h_{i}\) of \(B\) are the (potential) complete answers to the problem. The set \(D(B)\) of partial answers consists of all non-empty disjunctions of complete answers. The trivial partial answer in \(D(B)\), corresponding to 'I don't know', is represented by a tautology, i.e., the disjunction of all complete answers.

For any \(g\) in \(D(B)\), we let \(u(g, h_{j})\) be the epistemic utility of accepting \(g\) if \(h_{j}\) is true. We also assume that a rational probability measure \(P\) is associated with language \(L\), so that each \(h_{j}\) can be assigned with its epistemic probability \(P(h_{j}\mid e)\) given evidence \(e\). Then the best hypothesis in \(D(B)\) is the one \(g\) which maximizes the expected epistemic utility

\[\tag{1} U(g\mid e) = \sum_{i=1}^{n} P(h_j \mid e)u(g, h_j) \]

For comparative purposes, we may say that one hypothesis is better than another if it has a higher expected utility than the other by formula (1).

If truth is the only relevant epistemic utility, all true answers are equally good and all false answers are equally bad. Then we may take \(u(g, h_{j})\) simply to be the truth value of \(g\) relative to \(h_{j}\):

\[ u(g, h_j) = \begin{cases} 1 \text{ if } h_j \text { is in } g \\ 0 \text{ otherwise.} \end{cases} \]

Hence, \(u(g, h^*)\) is the real truth value \(tv(g)\) of \(g\) relative to the domain \(U\). It follows from (1) that the expected utility \(U(g\mid e)\) equals the posterior probability \(P(g\mid e)\) of \(g\) on \(e\). In this sense, we may say that posterior probability equals expected truth value. The rule of maximizing expected utility leads now to an extremely conservative policy: the best hypotheses \(g\) on \(e\) are those that satisfy \(P(g\mid e) = 1\), i.e., are completely certain on \(e\) (e.g. \(e\) itself, logical consequences of \(e\), and tautologies). On this account, if we are not certain of the truth, then it is always progressive to change an uncertain answer to a logically weaker one.

The argument against using high probability as a criterion of theory choice was made already by Popper in 1934 (see Popper 1959). He proposed that good theories should be bold or improbable. This idea has been made precise in the theory of semantic information.

Levi (1967) measures the information content \(I(g)\) of a partial answer \(g\) in \(D(B)\) by the number of complete answers it excludes. With a suitable normalization, \(I(g) = 1\) if and only if \(g\) is one of the complete answers \(h_{j}\) in \(B\), and \(I(g) = 0\) for a tautology. If we now choose \(u(g, h_{j}) = I(g)\), then \(U(g\mid e) = I(g)\), so that all the complete answers in B have the same maximal expected utility 1. This measure favors strong hypotheses, but it is unable to discriminate between the strongest ones. For example, the step from a false complete answer to the true one does not count as progress. Therefore, information cannot be the only relevant epistemic utility.

Another measure of information content is \(cont(g) = 1 - P(g)\) (Hintikka 1968). If we choose \(u(g, h_{j}) = cont(g)\), then the expected utility \(U(g\mid e) = 1 - P(g)\) is maximized by a contradiction, as the probability of a contradictory sentence is zero. Any false theory can be improved by adding new falsities to it. Again we see that information content alone does not give a good definition of scientific progress. The same remark can be made about explanatory and systematic power.

Levi's (1967) proposal for epistemic utility is the weighted combination of the truth value \(tv(g)\) of \(g\) and the information content \(I(g)\) of \(g\):

\[\tag{2} aI(g) + (1 - a)tv(g), \]

where \(0 \lt a \lt \bfrac{1}{2}\) is an "index of boldness," indicating how much the scientist is willing to risk error, or to "gamble with truth," in her attempt to be relieved from agnosticism. The expected epistemic utility of \(g\) is then

\[\tag{3} aI(g) + (1 - a)P(g\mid e). \]

A comparative notion of progress '\(g_{1}\) is better than \(g_{2}\)' could be defined by requiring that both \(I(g_{1}) \gt I(g_{2})\) and \(P(g_{1}\mid e) \gt P(g_{2}\mid e)\), but most hypotheses would be incomparable by this requirement. By using the weight \(a\), formula (3) expresses a balance between two mutually conflicting goals of inquiry. It has the virtue that all partial answers \(g\) in \(D(B)\) are comparable with each other: \(g\) is better than \(g'\) if and only if the value of (3) is larger for \(g\) than for \(g'\).

If epistemic utility is defined by information content cont(g) in a truth-dependent way, so that

\[ U(g,e) = \begin{cases} cont(g) \text{ if } g \text{ is true}\\ -cont(\neg g) \text{ if } g \text{ is false}, \end{cases} \]

(i,e., in accepting hypothesis \(g\), we gain the content of \(g\) if \(g\) is true, but we lose the content of the true hypothesis \(\neg g\) if \(g\) is false), then the expected utility \(U(g\mid e)\) is equal to

\[\tag{4} P(g\mid e) - P(g) \]

This measure combines the criteria of boldness (small prior probability \(P(g))\) and high posterior probability \(P(g\mid e)\). Similar results can be obtained if \(cont(g)\) is replaced by Hempel's (1965) measure of systematic power \(syst(g, e) = P(\neg g\mid \neg e)\).

For Levi, the best hypothesis in \(D(B)\) is the complete true answer. But his utility assignment also makes assumptions that may seem problematic: all false hypotheses (even those that make a very small error) are worse than all truths (even the uninformative tautology); all false complete answers have the same utility (see, however, the modified definition in Levi, 1980); among false hypotheses utility covaries with logical strength (i.e. if \(h\) and \(h'\) are false and \(h\) entails \(h'\), then \(h\) has greater utility than \(h')\). These features are motivated by Levi's project of using epistemic utility as a basis of acceptance rules. But if such utilities are used for ordering rival theories, then the theory of truthlikeness suggests other kinds of principles.

Popper's notion of truthlikeness is also a combination of truth and information (Popper 1963, 1972). For him, verisimilitude represents the idea of "approaching comprehensive truth." Popper's explication used the cumulative idea that the more truthlike theory should have (in the sense of set-theoretical inclusion) more true consequences and less false consequences, but it turned out that this comparison is not applicable to pairs of false theories. An alternative method of defining verisimilitude, initiated in 1974 by Pavel Tichy and Risto Hilpinen, relies essentially on the concept of similarity.

In the similarity approach, as developed in Niiniluoto (1987), closeness to the truth is explicated "locally" by means of the distances of partial answers \(g\) in \(D(B)\) to the target \(h^*\) in a cognitive problem \(B\). For this purpose, we need a function \(d\) which expresses the distance \(d(h_{i}, h_{j}) =: d_{ij}\) between two arbitrary elements of \(B\). By normalization, we may choose \(0 \le d_{ij} \le 1\). The choice of \(d\) depends on the cognitive problem \(B\), and makes use of the metric structure of \(B\) (e.g., if \(B\) is a subspace of the real numbers \(\Re)\) or the syntactic similarity between the statements in \(B\). Then, for a partial answer \(g\), we let \(D_{\min}(h_{i}, g)\) be the minimum distance of the disjuncts in \(g\) from \(h_{i}\), and \(D_{\rmsum}(h_{i}, g)\) the normalized sum of the distances of the disjuncts of \(g\) from \(h_{i}\). Then \(D_{\min}(h_{i}, g)\) tells how close to \(h_{i}\) hypothesis \(g\) is, so that the degree of approximate truth of \(g\) (relative to the target \(h^*\)) is \(1 - D_{\min}(h^*, g)\). On the other hand, \(D_{\rmsum}(h_{i}, g)\) includes a penalty for all the mistakes that \(g\) allows relative to \(h_{i}\). The min-sum measure

\[\tag{5} D_{\rmms}(h_{i},g) = aD_{\min}(h_{i},g) + bD_{\rmsum}(h_{i},g), \]

where \(a \gt 0\) and \(b \gt 0\), combines these two aspects. Then the degree of truthlikeness of \(g\) is

\[\tag{6} Tr(g, h^*) = 1 - D_{\rmms}(h^*, g). \]

Thus, parameter \(a\) indicates our cognitive interest in hitting close to the truth, and parameter \(b\) indicates our interest in excluding falsities that are distant from the truth. In many applications, choosing \(a\) to be equal to \(2b\) gives intuitively reasonable results.

If the distance function \(d\) on \(B\) is trivial, i.e., \(d_{ij} = 1\) if and only if \(i = j\), and otherwise 0, then \(Tr(g, h^*)\) reduces to the variant (2) of Levi's definition of epistemic utility.

Obviously \(Tr(g, h^*)\) takes its maximum value 1 if and only if \(g\) is equivalent to \(h^*\). If \(g\) is a tautology, i.e., the disjunction of all elements \(h_{i}\) of \(B\), then \(Tr(g,h^*) = 1 - b\). If \(Tr(g, h^*) \lt 1 - b\), \(g\) is misleading in the strong sense that its cognitive value is smaller than that of complete ignorance.

Oddie (1986) has continued to favor the average function instead of the min-sum measure. An alternative account of truth approximation is given by Kuipers (2019).

When \(h^*\) is unknown, the degree of truthlikeness (6) cannot be calculated. But the expected degree of verisimilitude of a partial answer \(g\) given evidence \(e\) is given by

\[\tag{7} ver(g\mid e) = \sum_{i=1}^n P(h_i \mid e) Tr(g, h_i) \]

If evidence \(e\) entails some \(h_{j}\) in \(B\), or makes \(h_{j}\) completely certain (i.e., \(P(h_{j}\mid e) = 1)\), then \(ver(g\mid e)\) reduces to \(Tr(g,h_{j})\). If all the complete answers \(h_{i}\) in \(B\) are equally probable on \(e\), then \(ver(h_{i}\mid e)\) is also constant for all \(h_{i}\).

The truthlikeness function \(Tr\) allows us to define an absolute concept of real progress:

(RP) Step from \(g\) to \(g'\) is progressive if and only if \(Tr(g, h^*) \lt Tr(g', h^*)\),

and the expected truthlikeness function \(ver\) gives the relative concept of estimated progress:

(EP) Step from \(g\) to \(g'\) seems progressive on evidence \(e\) if and only if \(ver(g\mid e) \lt ver(g'\mid e)\).

(Cf. Niiniluoto 1980.) According to definition RP, it is meaningful to say that one theory \(g'\) satisfies better the cognitive goal of answering problem \(B\) than another theory \(g\). This is an absolute standard of scientific progress in the sense of Section 2.5. Definition EP shows how claims of progress can be fallibly evaluated on the basis of evidence: if \(ver(g\mid e) \lt ver(g'\mid e)\), it is rational to claim on evidence \(e\) that the step from \(g\) to \(g'\) in fact is progressive. This claim may of course be mistaken, since estimation of progress is relative to two factors: the available evidence \(e\) and the probability measure \(P\) employed in the definition of \(ver\). Both evidence \(e\) and the epistemic probabilities \(P(h_{i}\mid e)\) may mislead us. In this sense, the problem of estimating verisimilitude is as difficult as the problem of induction.

Rowbottom (2015) argues against RP and EP that scientific progress is possible in the absence of increasing verisimilitude. He asks us to imagine that the scientists in a specific area of physics have found the maximally truthlike theory C*. Yet this general true theory could be used for further predictions and applications. This is indeed the case if we do not make the idealized assumption that the scientists know all the logical consequences of their theories. Then the explanations and predictions from C* constitute new cognitive problems. Moreover, in Rowbottom's thought experiment further progress is possible by expanding the conceptual framework in order to consider as a target a deeper truth than C* (Niiniluoto 2017).

The measure of expected truthlikeness can be used for retrospective comparisons of past theories \(g\), if evidence \(e\) is taken to include our currently accepted theory \(T\), i.e., the truthlikeness of \(g\) is estimated by \(ver(g\mid e \amp T)\) (Niiniluoto, 1984, 171). In the same spirit, Barrett (2008) has proposed that-assuming that science makes progress toward the truth through the elimination of descriptive error-the "probable approximate truth" of Newtonian gravitation can be warranted by its "nesting relations" to the General Theory of Relativity.

The definition of progress by RP can be contrasted with the model of belief revision (Gärdenfors, 1988). The simplest case of revision is expansion: a theory \(T\) is conjoined by an input statement \(A\), so that the new theory is \(T \amp A\). According to the min-sum measure, if \(T\) and \(A\) are true, then the expansion \(T \amp A\) is at least as truthlike as \(T\). But if \(T\) is false and \(A\) is true, then \(T \amp A\) may be less truthlike than \(T\). For example, let the false theory \(T\) state that the number of planets is 9 or 20, and let \(A\) be the true sentence that this number is 8 or 20. Then \(T \amp A\) states that the number of planets is 20, but this is clearly less truthlike than \(T\) itself. Similar examples show that the AGM revision of a false theory by true input need not increase truthlikeness (Niiniluoto 2011).

Bird (2007) has defended the epistemic definition of progress (accumulation of knowledge) against the semantic conception (accumulation of true beliefs or succession of theories with increasing verisimilitude). Here knowledge is not defined as justified true belief, but still it is taken to entail truth and justification, so that Bird's epistemic view in fact returns to the old cumulative model of progress. According to Bird, an accidentally true or truthlike belief reached by irrational methods without any justification does not constitute progress. This kind of thought experiment may seem artificial, since there is always some sort of justification for any hypothetical theory which is accepted or at least seriously considered by the scientific community. But Bird's argument raises the important question whether justification is merely instrumental for progress (Rowbottom, 2008) or necessary for progress (Bird, 2008). Another interesting question is whether the rejection of unfounded but accidentally true beliefs is regressive. The truthlikeness approach replies to these problems by distinguishing real progress RP and estimated progress EP: justification is not constitutive of progress in the sense of RP, but claims of real progress can be justified by appealing to expected verisimilitude (Cevolani and Tambolo, 2013). On the other hand, the notion of progress explicated by EP (or by the combination of RP and EP) is relative to evidence and justification but at the same time non-cumulative.

Bird (2015) can reformulate his initial example by assuming that an accidentally true or truthlike theory \(H\) has been obtained by scientific but yet unreliable means, perhaps by derivation from an accepted theory which turns out to be false. Does such application of mistaken reasoning constitute progress? The interplay of RP and EP allows several possibilities here. Later evidence might show that the initial estimate \(ver(H\mid e)\) was too high. Or the Tr-value was in fact high but initially the ver-value was low (e.g. Aristarchus on heliocentric system, Wegener on continental drift) and only later it was increased by new evidence.

Most accounts of truthlikeness satisfy the principle that among true theories truthlikeness covaries with logical strength (for an exception, see Oddie, 1986). So accumulation of knowledge is a special case of increasing verisimilitude, but it does not cover the case of progress by successive false theories. In his attempt to rehabilitate the cumulative knowledge model of scientific progress, Bird admits that there are historical sequences of theories none of which are "fully true" (e.g. Ptolemy-Copernicus-Kepler or Galileo-Newton-Einstein). As knowledge entails truth, Bird tries to save his epistemic account by reformulating past false theories as true ones. He proposes that if \(g\) is approximately true, then the proposition "approximately \(g\)" is true, so that "the improving precision of approximations can be an object of knowledge". One problem with this treatment is that scientists typically formulate their theories as exact statements, and at the time of their proposal it is not known how large margins of errors would be needed to transform them into true theories. With reference to Barrett (2008), Saatsi (2019) argues that the approximate truth of Newtonian mechanics can be assessed only from the vantage point of General Theory of Relativity, so that this knowledge was not epistemically accessible to Newton at his time. Further, many past theories were radically false rather than approximately true or truthlike, but still they could be improved by more truthlike successors. Ptolemy's geocentric theory was rejected in the Copernican revolution, not retained in the form "approximately Ptolemy". Indeed, the progressive steps from Ptolemy to Copernicus or from Newton to Einstein are not only matters of improved precision but involve changes in theoretical postulates and laws. A further problem for Bird's proposal is the question whether his approximation propositions are able to distinguish between progress and regress in science (Niiniluoto, 2014).

In Section 3.5., we made a distinction between real and estimated progress in terms of the truthlikeness measures. A similar distinction can be made in connection with measures of empirical success. For example, one may distinguish two notions of the problem-solving ability of a theory: the number of problems solved so far, and the number of solvable problems. Real progress could be defined by the latter, while the former gives us an estimate of progress.

The scientific realist may continue this line of thought by arguing that all measures of empirical success in fact are at best indicators of real cognitive progress, measured in terms of truth or truthlikeness. For example, if \(T\) explains \(e\), then it can be shown that \(e\) also confirms \(T\), or increases the probability of \(T\) (Niiniluoto 1999b). A similar reasoning can be employed to give the so-called "ultimate argument" or "no miracle argument"for scientific realism: theoretical realism is the only assumption that does not make the empirical success of science a miracle (Putnam, 1978; Psillos 1999; Niiniluoto 2017; Kuipers 2019; cf. criticism in Laudan 1984b). This means that the best explanation of the empirical progress of science is the hypothesis that science is also progressive on the level of theories.

The thesis that science is progressive is an overall claim about scientific activities. It does not imply that each particular step in science has in fact been progressive: individual scientists make mistakes, and even the scientific community is fallible in its collective judgments. For this reason, we should not propose such a definition that the thesis about the progressive nature of science becomes a tautology or an analytic truth. This undesirable consequence follows if we define truth as the limit of scientific inquiry (this is sometimes called the consensus theory of truth), as then it is a mere tautology that the limit of scientific research is the truth (Laudan 1984a). But this "trivialization of the self-corrective thesis" cannot be attributed to Peirce who realized that truth and the limit of inquiry coincide at best with probability one (Niiniluoto 1980). The notion of truthlikeness allows us to make sense of the claim that science converges towards the truth. But the characterization of progress as increasing truthlikeness, given in Section 3.5, does not presuppose "teleological metaphysics" (Stegmüller 1976), "convergent realism" (Laudan 1984), or "scientific eschatology" (Moulines 2000), as it does not rely on any assumption about the future behavior of science.

The claim about scientific progress can still be questioned by the theses that observations and ontologies are relative to theories. If this is true, the comparison of rival theories appears to be impossible on cognitive or rational grounds. Kuhn (1962) compared paradigm-changes to Gestalt switches (Dilworth 1981). Feyerabend (1984) concluded from his methodological anarchism that the development of science and art resemble each other.

Hanson, Popper, Kuhn, and Feyerabend agreed that all observation is theory-laden, so that there is no theory-neutral observational language. Accounts of reduction and progress, which take for granted the preservation of some observational statements within theory-change, thus run into troubles. Even though Laudan's account of progress allows Kuhn-losses, it can be argued that the comparison of the problem-solving capacity of two rival theories presupposes some kind of correlation or translation between the statements of these theories (Pearce 1987). Various replies have been proposed to this issue. One is the movement from language to structures (Stegmüller 1976; Moulines 2000), but it turns out that a reduction on the level structures already guarantees commensurability, since it induces a translation between conceptual frameworks (Pearce 1987). Another has been the point that an evidence statement \(e\) may happen to be neutral with respect to rival theories \(T_{1}\) and \(T_{2}\), even though it is laden with some other theories. The realist may also point that the theory-ladenness of observations concerns at most the estimation of progress (EP), but the definition of real progress (RP) as increasing truthlikeness does not mention the notion of observation at all.

Even though Popper accepted the theory-ladenness of observations, he rejected the more general thesis about incommensurability as "the myth of the framework" (Lakatos and Musgrave 1970). Popper insisted that the growth of knowledge is always revolutionary in the sense that the new theory contradicts the old one by correcting it, but there is still continuity in theory-change, as the new theory should explain why the old theory was successful to some extent. Feyerabend tried to claim that successive theories are both inconsistent and incommensurable with each other, but this combination makes little sense. Kuhn argued against the possibility of finding complete translations between the languages of rival theories, but in his later work he admitted the possibility that a scientist may learn different theoretical languages (Hoyningen-Huene 1993). Kuhn kept insisting that there is "no theory-independent way to reconstruct phrases like 'really there'," i.e., each theory has its own ontology. Convergence to the truth seems to be impossible, if ontologies change with theories. The same idea has been formulated by Putnam (1978) and Laudan (1984a) in the so-called "pessimistic meta-induction": as many past theories in science have turned out to be non-referring, there is all reason to expect that even the future theories fail to refer-and thus also fail to be approximately true or truthlike. But the optimistic reply by comparative realists points out that for all rejected theories in Laudan's list the scientists have been able to find a better, more truthlike alternative (Niiniluoto 2017; Kuipers 2019).

The difficulties for realism seem to be reinforced by the observation that measures of truthlikeness are relative to languages. The choice of conceptual frameworks cannot be decided by means of the notion of truthlikeness, but needs additional criteria. In defense of the truthlikeness approach, one may point to the fact that the comparison of two theories is relevant only in those cases where they are considered (perhaps via a suitable translation) as rival answers to the same cognitive problem. It is interesting to compare Newton's and Einstein's theories for their truthlikeness, but not Newton's and Darwin's theories. When definitions RP and EP are applied to rival theories in different languages, they have to be translated into a common conceptual framework.

Another line is to appeal to theories of reference in order to show that rival theories can after all be regarded as speaking about the same entities (Psillos 1999). For example, Thompson, Bohr, and later physicists are talking about the same electrons, even though their theories of the electron differ from each other. This is not possible on the standard descriptive theory of reference: a theory \(T\) can only refer to entities about which it gives a true description. Kuhn's and Feyerabend's meaning holism, with devastating consequences for realism, presupposes this account of reference. A similar argument is used by Moulines (2000), who denies that progress could be understood as "knowing more about the same," but his own structuralist reconstruction of progress with "partial incommensurability" assumes that rival theories share some intended applications. Causal theories of reference allow that reference is preserved even within changes of theories (Kitcher 1993). The same result is obtained if the descriptive account is modified by introducing a Principle of Charity (Putnam 1975; Smith 1981; Niiniluoto 1999a): a theory refers to those entities about which it gives the most truthlike description. An alternative account, illustrated by the relation of phlogiston theory and oxygen theory, is given by Schurz (2011) by his notion of structural correspondence. This makes it possible that even false theories are referring. Moreover, there can be reference invariance between two successive theories, even though both of them are false; progress means then that the latter theory gives a more truthlike description about their common domain than the old theory.

Aliseda, A., 2006, Abductive Reasoning, Dordrecht: Springer.

Almeder, R., 1983, "Scientific Progress and Peircean Utopian Realism," Erkenntnis, 20: 253-280.

Aronson, J.L., Harré, R. and Way, E.C., 1994, Realism Rescued: How Scientific Progress is Possible, London: Duckworth.

Balzer, W., 2000, "On Approximate Reduction," in: Jonkisz and Koj (2000), pp. 153-170.

Balzer, W., Pearce, D., and Schmidt, H.J. (eds.), 1984, Reduction in Science: Structure, Examples, Philosophical Problems, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Balzer, W., Moulines, C.U., and Sneed, J.D., 1987, An Architectonic for Science, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Barrett, J. A., 2008, "Approximate Truth and Descriptive Nesting," Erkenntnis, 68: 213-224.

Bird, A., 2007, "What Is Scientific Progress?" Noûs, 41: 92-117.

---, 2008, "Scientific Progress as Accumulation of Knowledge: A Reply to Rowbottom," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 39: 279-281.

---, 2015, "Scientific Progress," in P. Humphreys (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Science, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 544-563.

Böhme, G., 1977, "Models for the Development of Science," in I. Spiegel-Rösing and D. de Solla Price (eds.), Science, Technology, and Society, London: Sage Publications, pp. 319-351.

Callebaut, W. and Pinxten, R. (eds.), 1987, Evolutionary Epistemology, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Cartwright, N., 1999, The Dappled World: A Study of the Boundaries of Science, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Chang, H., 2004, Inventing Temperature: Measurement and Scientific Progress, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Cevolani, G. and Tambolo, L., 2013. "Progress as Approximation to the Truth: A Defence of the Verisimilitudinarian Approach," Erkenntnis, 78: 921- 935.

Chotkowski La Follette, M. (ed.), 1982, Quality in Science, Cambridge, Mass.: The MIT Press.

Dilworth, C., 1981, Scientific Progress: A Study Concerning the Nature of the Relation Between Successive Scientific Theories, Dordrecht: Reidel.

Dellsén, F., 2016, "Scientific Progress: Knowledge versus Understanding," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 56: 72-83.

---, 2018a, "Scientific Progress, Understanding, and Knowledge: Reply to Park," Journal ofr General Philosophy of Science, 49: 451-459.

---, 2018b, "Scientific Progress: Four Accounts," Philosophy Compass, 13: e12525.

Donovan, A., Laudan, L., and Laudan, R. (eds.), 1988, Scrutinizing Science: Empirical Studies of Scientific Change, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Doppelt, G., 1983, "Relativism and Recent Pragmatic Conceptions of Scientific Rationality," in: N. Rescher (ed.), Scientific Explanation and Understanding, Lanham: University Press of America, pp. 107-142.

Douglas, H., 2014, "Pure Science and the Problem of Progress," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science (Part A), 46: 55-63.

Duhem, P., 1954, The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Dupré, J., 1993, The Disorder of Things: Metaphysical Foundations of the Disunity of Science, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Elkana, Y., et al. (eds.), 1978, Toward a Metric of Science: The Advent of Science Indicators, New York: Wiley and Sons.

Feyerabend, P., 1962, "Explanation, Reduction, and Empiricism," in: H. Feigl and G. Maxwell (eds.), Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, vol. II. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 28-97.

---, 1984, Wissenschaft als Kunst, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp

Foster, M.H.; Martin, M.L. (eds.), 1966, Probability, Confirmation,and Simplicity, New York: The Odyssey Press.

Gärdenfors, P., 1988, Knowledge in Flux: Modelling the Dynamics of Epistemic States, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

Gavroglu, K., Goudaroulis, Y. and Nicolacopoulos, P. (eds.), 1989, Imre Lakatos and Theories of Scientific Change, Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers.

Hacking, I. (ed.), 1981, Scientific Revolutions, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hanson, N.R., 1958, Patterns of Discovery, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Harré, R. (ed.), 1975, Problems of Scientific Revolutions: Progress and Obstacles to Progress in the Sciences, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hempel, C.G., 1965, Aspects of Scientific Explanation, New York: The Free Press.

Hintikka, J., 1968, "The Varieties of Information and Scientific Explanation," in B. van Rootselaar and J.E. Staal (eds.), Logic, Methodology and Philosophy of Science III, Amsterdam: North-Holland, pp. 151-171.

Howson, C. (ed.), 1976, Method and Appraisal in the Physical Sciences: The Critical Background to Modern Science, 1800-1905, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hoyningen-Huene, P. and Sankey, H. (eds.), 2001, Incommensurability and Related Matters, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Hull, D.L., 1988, Science as a Process: Evolutionary Account of the Social and Conceptual Development of Science, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Jonkisz, A., 2000, "On Relative Progress in Science," in Jonkisz and Koj (2000), pp. 199-234.

Jonkisz, A. and Koj, L. (eds.), 2000, On Comparing and Evaluating Scientific Theories, Amsterdam: Rodopi.

Kaila, E., 2014, Human Knowledge: A Classic Statement of Logical Empiricism, Chicago: Open Court

Kemeny, J. and Oppenheim, P., 1956, "On Reduction," Philosophical Studies, 7: 6-19.

Kitcher, P., 1993, The Advancement of Science: Science without Legend, Objectivity without Illusions, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kitcher, P., 2001, Science, Truth, and Democracy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kleiner, S.A., 1993, The Logic of Discovery: A Theory of the Rationality of Scientific Research, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Krajewski, W., 1977, Correspondence Principle and the Growth of Knowledge, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Kuhn, T.S., 1970, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962. 2nd enlarged ed.

---, 1977, The Essential Tension, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Kuipers, T., 2000, From Instrumentalism to Constructive Realism, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

---, 2019, Nomic Truth Approximation Revisited, Cham: Springer.

Lakatos, I. and Musgrave, A. (eds.), 1970, Criticism and the Growth of Knowledge, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Laudan, L., 1977, Progress and Its Problems: Toward a Theory of Scientific Growth, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

---, 1984a, Science and Values: The Aims of Science and Their Role in Scientific Debate, Berkeley: University of California Press.

---, 1984b, "Explaining the Success of Science: Beyond Epistemic Realism and Relativism," in J.T. Cushing, C.F. Delaney, and G.M. Gutting (eds.), Science and Reality, Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, pp. 83-105.

---, 1987, "Progress or Rationality? The Prospects for Normative Naturalism," American Philosophical Quarterly 24, 19-31.

---, 1990, Science and Relativism, Berkeley: The University of California Press.

Laudan, L., et al., 1986, "Scientific Change: Philosophical Models and Historical Research," Synthese, 69: 141-224.

Leplin, J. (ed.), 1984, Scientific Realism, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Levi, I., 1967, Gambling With Truth: An Essay on Induction and the Aims of Science, New York: Harper & Row; 2nd edition, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1973.

---, 1980, The Enterprise of Knowledge, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.

---, 1985, "Messianic vs Myopic Realism," in P.D. Asquith and P. Kitcher (eds.), PSA 1984 (Volume 2), East Lansing, MI: Philosophy of Science Association, pp. 617-636.

Lombrozo, T., 2016, "Explanatory Preference Shape Learning and Inference," Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 20: 748-759.

Longino, H., 2002, The Fate of Knowledge, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Martin, B. and Irvine, J., 1983, "Assessing Basic Research: Some Partial Indicators of Scientific Progress in Radio Astronomy," Research Policy, 12: 61-90.

Maxwell, N., 2017, Understanding Scientific Progress: Aim-Oriented Empiricism, St. Paul, MN: Paragon House.

Mizrahi, M., 2013, "What is Scientific Progress? Lessons from Scientific Practice," Journal of General Philosophy of Science, 44: 375-390.

Moulines, C.U., 2000, "Is There Genuinely Scientific Progress?," in: Jonkisz and Koj, 173-197.

Mulkay, M., 1975, "Three Models of Scientific Development," The Sociological Review, 23: 509-526.

Nickles, T. (ed.), 1999, Scientific Discovery: Case Studies, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Niiniluoto, I., 1980, "Scientific Progress," Synthese, 45: 427-464.

---, 1984, Is Science Progressive? Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

---, 1987, Truthlikeness, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

---, 1995a, "Is There Progress in Science?," in H. Stachowiak (ed.), Pragmatik, Handbuch pragmatischen Denkens, Band V, Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag, pp. 30-58.

---, 1995b, "Emergence of Scientific Specialties: Six Models," in W. Herfel et al. (eds.), Theories and Models in Scientific Processes, Amsterdam: Rodopi pp. 21-223.

---, 1999a, Critical Scientific Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1999b, "Defending Abduction," Philosophy of Scince (Proceedings), 66: S436-S451.

---, 2011, "Revising Beliefs Towards the Truth," Erkenntis, 75: 165-181.

---, 2014, "Scientific Progress as Increasing Verisimilitude," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science (Part A), 75: 73-77.

---, 2017, "Optimistic Realism about Scientific Progress," Synthese, 194: 3291-3309.

Niiniluoto, I. and Tuomela, R. (eds.), 1979, The Logic and Epistemology of Scientific Change, Helsinki: Acta Philosophica Fennica (Volume 30).

Nisbet, R., 1980, History of the Idea of Progress, London: Heinemann.

Nowak, L., 1980, The Structure of Idealization: Towards a Systematic Interpretation of the Marxian Idea of Science, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Nowakowa, I. and Nowak, L., 2000, The Richness of Idealization, Amsterdam: Rodopi.

Oddie, G., 1986, Likeness to Truth, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Park, S., 2017, "Does Scientific Progress Consist in Increasing Knoweledge or Understanding?," Journal for General Philosophy of Science, 48: 569-579.

Pearce, D., 1987, Roads to Commensurability, Dordrecht: Reidel.

Pearce, D. and Rantala, V., 1984, "A Logical Study of the Correspondence Relation," Journal of Philosophical Logic, 13: 47-84.

Pera, M., 1994, The Discourse of Science, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Pitt, J.C., 1981, "Pictures, Images, and Conceptual Change: An Analysis of Wilfrid Sellars," Philosophy of Science, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

---, (ed.), 1985, Change and Progress in Modern Science, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Popper, K., 1959, The Logic of Scientific Discovery, London: Hutchinson.

---, 1963, Conjectures and Refutations: The Growth of Scientific Knowledge, London: Hutchinson.

---, 1972, Objective Knowledge: An Evolutionary Approach, Oxford: Oxford University Press; 2nd enlarged edition, 1979.

Price, D. de Solla, 1963, Little Science, Big Science, New York: Columbia University Press.

Psillos, S., 1999, Scientific Realism: How Science Tracks Truth, London: Routledge.

Putnam, H., 1975, Mind. Language, and Reality, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1978, Meaning and the Moral Sciences, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Radnitzky, G.; Andersson, G. (eds.), 1978 Progress and Rationality in Science, Dordrecht-Boston: Reidel.

---, (eds.), 1979, The Structure and Development of Science, Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Radnitzky, G. and Bartley, W.W. III (eds.), 1987, Evolutionary Epistemology, Rationality, and the Sociology of Knowledge, Open Court, La Salle, Illinois.

Rantala, V., 2002, Explanatory Translation: Beyond the Kuhnian Model of Conceptual Change, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Rescher, N., 1977, Methodological Pragmatism, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 1978, Scientific Progress: A Philosophical Essay on the Economics of Research in Natural Science, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 1984, The Limits of Science, Berkeley: The University of California Press.

Rowbottom, D. P., 2008, "N-rays and the Semantic View of Progress," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 39: 277-278.

---, 2015, "Scientific Progress without Increasing Verisimilitude: In Response to Niiniluoto," Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 51: 100-104.

Saatsi, J. (ed.), 2018, The Routledge Handbook of Scientific Realism, London: Routledge,

---, 2019, "What is Theoretical Progress in Science," Synthese, 196: 611-631.

Sarton, G., 1936, The Study of the History of Science, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Schäfer, W. (ed.), 1983, Finalization in Science: The Social Orientation of Scientific Progress, Dordrecht: Reidel.

Scheibe, E., 1976, "Conditions of Progress and Comparability of Theories," in R.S. Cohen et al. (ed.), Essays on Memory of Imre Lakatos, D. Reidel, Dordrecht, pp. 547-568.

Schupbach, J. N. and Sprenger, J., 2011, "The Logic of Explanatory Power," Philosophy of Science, 78: 105-127.

Schurz, G., 2011, "Structural Correspondence, Indirect Reference, and Partial Truth: Phlogiston Theory and Newtonian Mechanics," Synthese, 180: 103-120.

---, 2015, "Causality and Unification: How Causality Unifies Statistical Regularities," Theoria, 30: 73-95.

Shan, Y., 2019, "A New Functional Approach to Scientific Progress," Philosophy of Science. 86: 739-758

Sintonen, M., 1984, The Pragmatics of Scientific Explanation, Helsinkki: Acta Philosophica Fennica (Volume 37).

Smith, P., 1981, Realism and the Progress of Science, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Stegmüller, W., 1976, The Structure and Dynamics of Theories, New York-Heidelberg-Berlin: Springer-Verlag.

Suppe, F. (ed.), 1977, The Structure of Scientific Theories, 2nd ed. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Toulmin, S., 1972, Human Understanding, vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Tuomela, R., 1985, Science, Action, and Reality, Dordrecht: Reidel.

van Fraassen, B., 1980, The Scientific Image, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Wachbroit, R., 1986, "Progress: Metaphysical and Otherwise," Philosophy of Science, 53: 354-371.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The idea that science is a collective enterprise of researchers in successive generations is characteristic of the Modern Age (Nisbet 1980). Classical empiricists (Francis Bacon) and rationalists (René Descartes) of the seventeenth century urged that the use of proper methods of inquiry guarantees the discovery and justification of new truths.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the evolution and debates about the use of models for scientific explanation, and the philosophical challenges in defining and understanding the nature of explanations in science.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Scientific Explanation (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
As will become apparent, "scientific explanation" is a topic that raises a number of interrelated issues. Some background orientation will be useful before turning to the details of competing models.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores scientific realism, i.e. are our scientific explanations for the unobservable actual descriptions of reality or a useful fiction for understanding? This article will explore the variants schools of thought on the matter, and arguments for/against this position.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Debates about scientific realism are closely connected to almost everything else in the philosophy of science, for they concern the very nature of scientific knowledge. Scientific realism is a positive epistemic attitude toward the content of our best theories and models, recommending belief in both observable and unobservable aspects of the world described by the sciences. This epistemic attitude has important metaphysical and semantic dimensions, and these various commitments are contested by a number of rival epistemologies of science, known collectively as forms of scientific antirealism. This article explains what scientific realism is, outlines its main variants, considers the most common arguments for and against the position, and contrasts it with its most important antirealist counterparts.

1. What is Scientific Realism?

1.1 Epistemic Achievements versus Epistemic Aims

It is perhaps only a slight exaggeration to say that scientific realism is characterized differently by every author who discusses it, and this presents a challenge to anyone hoping to learn what it is. Fortunately, underlying the many idiosyncratic qualifications and variants of the position, there is a common core of ideas, typified by an epistemically positive attitude toward the outputs of scientific investigation, regarding both observable and unobservable aspects of the world. The distinction here between the observable and the unobservable reflects human sensory capabilities: the observable is that which can, under favorable conditions, be perceived using the unaided senses (for example, planets and platypuses); the unobservable is that which cannot be detected this way (for example, proteins and protons). This is to privilege vision merely for terminological convenience, and differs from scientific conceptions of observability, which generally extend to things that are detectable using instruments (Shapere 1982). The distinction itself has been problematized (Maxwell 1962; Churchland 1985; Musgrave 1985; Dicken & Lipton 2006) and defended (Muller 2004, 2005; cf. Turner 2007 regarding the distant past). If it is problematic, this is arguably a concern primarily for certain forms of antirealism, which adopt an epistemically positive attitude only with respect to the observable. It is not ultimately a concern for scientific realism, which does not discriminate epistemically between observables and unobservables per se.

Before considering the nuances of what scientific realism entails, it is useful to distinguish between two different kinds of definition in this context. Most commonly, the position is described in terms of the epistemic achievements constituted by scientific theories (and models-this qualification will be taken as given henceforth). On this approach, scientific realism is a position concerning the actual epistemic status of theories (or some components thereof), and this is described in a number of ways. For example, most people define scientific realism in terms of the truth or approximate truth of scientific theories or certain aspects of theories. Some define it in terms of the successful reference of theoretical terms to things in the world, both observable and unobservable. (A note about the literature: "theoretical term", prior to the 1980s, was standardly used to denote terms for unobservables, but will be used here to refer to any scientific term, which is now the more common usage.) Others define scientific realism not in terms of truth or reference, but in terms of belief in the ontology of scientific theories. What all of these approaches have in common is a commitment to the idea that our best theories have a certain epistemic status: they yield knowledge of aspects of the world, including unobservable aspects. (For definitions along these lines, see Smart 1963; Boyd 1983; Devitt 1991; Kukla 1998; Niiniluoto 1999; Psillos 1999; and Chakravartty 2007a.)

Another way to think about scientific realism is in terms of the epistemic aims of scientific inquiry (van Fraassen 1980: 8; Lyons 2005). That is, some think of the position in terms of what science aims to do: the scientific realist holds that science aims to produce true descriptions of things in the world (or approximately true descriptions, or ones whose central terms successfully refer, and so on). There is a weak implication here to the effect that if science aims at truth, and scientific practice is at all successful, the characterization of scientific realism in terms of aim may then entail some form of characterization in terms of achievement. But this is not a strict implication, since defining scientific realism in terms of aiming at truth does not, strictly speaking, suggest anything about the success of scientific practice in this regard. For this reason, some take the aspirational characterization of scientific realism to be too weak (Kitcher 1993: 150; Devitt 2005: n. 10; Chakravartty 2007b: 197; for skepticism about scientific aim-talk more generally, see Rowbottom 2014)-it is compatible with the sciences never actually achieving, and even the impossibility of their achieving, their aim as conceived on this view of scientific realism. Most scientific realists commit to something more in terms of achievement, and this is assumed in what follows.

1.2 The Three Dimensions of Realist Commitment

The description of scientific realism as a positive epistemic attitude toward theories, including parts putatively concerning the unobservable, is a kind of shorthand for more precise commitments (Kukla 1998: ch. 1; Niiniluoto 1999: ch. 1; Psillos 1999: Introduction; Chakravartty 2007a: ch. 1). Traditionally, realism more generally is associated with any position that endorses belief in the reality of something. Thus, one might be a realist about one's perceptions of tables and chairs (sense datum realism), or about tables and chairs themselves (external world realism), or about mathematical entities such as numbers and sets (mathematical realism), and so on. Scientific realism is a realism about whatever is described by our best scientific theories-from this point on, "realism" here denotes scientific realism. But what, more precisely, is that? In order to be clear about what realism in the context of the sciences amounts to, and to differentiate it from some important antirealist alternatives, it is useful to understand it in terms of three dimensions: a metaphysical (or ontological) dimension; a semantic dimension; and an epistemological dimension.

Metaphysically, realism is committed to the mind-independent existence of the world investigated by the sciences. This idea is best clarified in contrast with positions that deny it. For instance, it is denied by any position that falls under the traditional heading of "idealism", including some forms of phenomenology, according to which there is no world external to and thus independent of the mind. This sort of idealism, however, though historically important, is rarely encountered in contemporary philosophy of science. More common rejections of mind-independence stem from neo-Kantian views of the nature of scientific knowledge, which deny that the world of our experience is mind-independent, even if (in some cases) these positions accept that the world in itself does not depend on the existence of minds. The contention here is that the world investigated by the sciences-as distinct from "the world in itself" (assuming this to be a coherent distinction)-is in some sense dependent on the ideas one brings to scientific investigation, which may include, for example, theoretical assumptions and perceptual training; this proposal is detailed further in section 4. It is important to note in this connection that human convention in scientific taxonomy is compatible with mind-independence. For example, though Psillos (1999: xix) ties realism to a "mind-independent natural-kind structure" of the world, Chakravartty (2007a: ch. 6) argues that mind-independent properties are often conventionally grouped into kinds (see also Boyd 1999; Humphreys 2004: 22-25, 35-36, and cf. the "promiscuous realism" of Dupré 1993).

Semantically, realism is committed to a literal interpretation of scientific claims about the world. In common parlance, realists take theoretical statements at "face value". According to realism, claims about scientific objects, events, processes, properties, and relations (I will use the term "scientific entity" as a generic term for these sorts of things henceforth), whether they be observable or unobservable, should be construed literally as having truth values, whether true or false. This semantic commitment contrasts primarily with those of certain "instrumentalist" epistemologies of science, which interpret descriptions of unobservables simply as instruments for the prediction of observable phenomena, or for systematizing observation reports. Traditionally, instrumentalism holds that claims about unobservable things have no literal meaning at all (though the term is often used more liberally in connection with some antirealist positions today). Some antirealists contend that claims involving unobservables should not be interpreted literally, but as elliptical for corresponding claims about observables. These positions are described in more detail in section 4.

Epistemologically, realism is committed to the idea that theoretical claims (interpreted literally as describing a mind-independent reality) constitute knowledge of the world. This contrasts with skeptical positions which, even if they grant the metaphysical and semantic dimensions of realism, doubt that scientific investigation is epistemologically powerful enough to yield such knowledge, or, as in the case of some antirealist positions, insist that it is only powerful enough to yield knowledge regarding observables. The epistemological dimension of realism, though shared by realists generally, is sometimes described more specifically in contrary ways. For example, while many realists subscribe to the truth (or approximate truth) of theories understood in terms of some version of the correspondence theory of truth (as suggested by Fine 1986a and contested by Ellis 1988), some prefer a truthmaker account (Asay 2013) or a deflationary account of truth (Giere 1988: 82; Devitt 2005; Leeds 2007). Though most realists marry their position to the successful reference of theoretical terms, including those for unobservable entities (Boyd 1983, and as described by Laudan 1981), some deny that this is a requirement (Cruse & Papineau 2002; Papineau 2010). Amidst these differences, however, a general recipe for realism is widely shared: our best scientific theories give true or approximately true descriptions of observable and unobservable aspects of a mind-independent world.

1.3 Qualifications and Variations

The general recipe for realism just described is accurate so far as it goes, but still falls short of the degree of precision offered by most realists. The two main sources of imprecision thus far are found in the general recipe itself, which makes reference to the idea of "our best scientific theories" and the notion of "approximate truth". The motivation for these qualifications is perhaps clear. If one is to defend a positive epistemic attitude regarding scientific theories, it is presumably sensible to do so not merely in connection with any theory (especially when one considers that, over the long history of the sciences up to the present, some theories were not or are not especially successful), but rather with respect to theories (or aspects of theories, as we will see momentarily) that would appear, prima facie, to merit such a defense, viz. our best theories (or aspects thereof). And it is widely held, not least by realists, that even many of our best scientific theories are likely false, strictly speaking, hence the importance of the notion that theories may be "close to" the truth (that is, approximately true) even though they are false. The challenge of making these qualifications more precise, however, is significant, and has generated much discussion.

Consider first the issue of how best to identify those theories that realists should be realists about. A general disclaimer is in order here: realists are generally fallibilists, holding that realism is appropriate in connection with our best theories even though they likely cannot be proven with absolute certainty; some of our best theories could conceivably turn out to be significantly mistaken, but realists maintain that, granting this possibility, there are grounds for realism nonetheless. These grounds are bolstered by restricting the domain of theories suitable for realist commitment to those that are sufficiently mature and non- ad hoc (Worrall 1989: 153-154; Psillos 1999: 105-108). Maturity may be thought of in terms of the well established nature of the field in which a theory is developed, or the duration of time a theory has survived, or its survival in the face of significant testing; and the condition of being non- ad hoc is intended to guard against theories that are "cooked up" (that is, posited merely) in order to account for some known observations in the absence of rigorous testing. On these construals, however, both the notion of maturity and the notion of being non- ad hoc are admittedly vague. One strategy for adding precision here is to attribute these qualities to theories that make successful, novel predictions. The ability of a theory to do this, it is commonly argued, marks it as genuinely empirically successful, and the sort of theory to which realists should be more inclined to commit (Musgrave 1988; Lipton 1990; Leplin 1997; White 2003; Hitchcock & Sober 2004; Barnes 2008; for a dissenting view, see Harker 2008; cf. Alai 2014).

The idea that with the development of the sciences over time, theories are converging on ("moving in the direction of", "getting closer to") the truth, is a common theme in realist discussions of theory change (for example, Hardin & Rosenberg 1982 and Putnam 1982). Talk of approximate truth is often invoked in this context and has produced a significant amount of often highly technical work, conceptualizing the approximation of truth as something that can be quantified, such that judgments of relative approximate truth (of one proposition or theory in comparison to another) can be formalized and given precise definitions. This work provides one possible means by which to consider the convergentist claim that theories can be viewed as increasingly approximately true over time, and this possibility is further considered in section 3.4.

A final and especially important qualification to the general recipe for realism described above comes in the form of a number of variations. These species of generic realism can be viewed as falling into three families or camps: explanationist realism; entity realism; and structural realism. There is a shared principle of speciation here, in that all three approaches are attempts to identify more specifically the component parts of scientific theories that are most worthy of epistemic commitment. Explanationism recommends realist commitment with respect to those parts of our best theories-regarding (unobservable) entities, laws, etc.-that are in some sense indispensable or otherwise important to explaining their empirical success-for instance, components of theories that are crucial in order to derive successful, novel predictions. Entity realism is the view that under conditions in which one can demonstrate impressive causal knowledge of a putative (unobservable) entity, such as knowledge that facilitates the manipulation of the entity and its use so as to intervene in other phenomena, one has good reason for realism regarding it. Structural realism is the view that one should be a realist, not in connection with descriptions of the natures of things (like unobservable entities) found in our best theories, but rather with respect to their structure. All three of these positions adopt a strategy of selectivity, and this and the positions themselves are considered further in section 2.3.

Arguably, the fact that realists have endeavored to qualify their view and propose variations of it, as described above, suggests a collective moral: though some (especially earlier) discussions of realism give the impression that it is an attitude pertaining to science across the board, this is likely too coarse a way to understand the position. Adopting a realist attitude toward the content of scientific theories does not entail that one believes all such content, but rather that one believes those aspects, including unobservable aspects, regarding which one takes such belief to be warranted, thus indicating a realism about those things more specifically. In a similar spirit, some argue for another sort of specificity, suggesting that the best (or only good) arguments for realism are formulated by concentrating on the details of specific cases-the so-called "first-order evidence" of scientific investigation itself. For example, leveraging a case study of Jean Perrin's argument in 1908 for the reality of unobservable molecules, Achinstein (2002: 491-495) contends that even taking certain realist-friendly assumptions for granted, a compelling argument for realism about any given entity can only be given in terms of the empirical evidence concerning that entity, not by means of more general philosophical arguments. (For similar views, see Magnus & Callender 2004: 333-336 and Saatsi 2010; for skepticism about this, see Dicken 2013 and Park 2016.)

2. Considerations in Favor of Scientific Realism (and Responses)

2.1 The Miracle Argument

The most powerful intuition motivating realism is an old idea, commonly referred to in recent discussions as the "miracle argument" or "no miracles argument", after Putnam's (1975a: 73) claim that realism "is the only philosophy that doesn't make the success of science a miracle". The argument begins with the widely accepted premise that our best theories are extraordinarily successful: they facilitate empirical predictions, retrodictions, and explanations of the subject matters of scientific investigation, often marked by astounding accuracy and intricate causal manipulations of the relevant phenomena. What explains this success? One explanation, favored by realists, is that our best theories are true (or approximately true, or correctly describe a mind-independent world of entities, laws, etc.). Indeed, if these theories were far from the truth, so the argument goes, the fact that they are so successful would be miraculous. And given the choice between a straightforward explanation of success and a miraculous explanation, clearly one should prefer the non-miraculous explanation, viz. that our best theories are approximately true (etc.). (For elaborations of the miracle argument, see J. Brown 1982; Boyd 1989; Lipton 1994; Psillos 1999: ch. 4; Barnes 2002; Lyons 2003; Busch 2008; Frost-Arnold 2010; and Dellsén 2016.)

Though intuitively powerful, the miracle argument is contestable in a number of ways. One skeptical response is to question the very need for an explanation of the success of science in the first place. For example, van Fraassen (1980: 40; see also Wray 2007, 2010) suggests that successful theories are analogous to well-adapted organisms-since only successful theories (organisms) survive, it is hardly surprising that our theories are successful, and therefore, there is no demand here for an explanation of success. It is not entirely clear, however, whether the evolutionary analogy is sufficient to dissolve the intuition behind the miracle argument. One might wonder, for instance, why a particular theory is successful (as opposed to why theories in general are successful), and the explanation sought may turn on specific features of the theory itself, including its descriptions of unobservables. Whether such explanations need be true, though, is a matter of debate. While most theories of explanation require that the explanans be true, pragmatic theories of explanation do not (van Fraassen 1980: ch. 5). More generally, any epistemology of science that does not accept one or more of the three dimensions of realism-commitment to a mind-independent world, literal semantics, and epistemic access to unobservables-will thereby present a putative reason for resisting the miracle argument. These positions are considered in section 4.

Some authors contend that the miracle argument is, in fact, an instance of fallacious reasoning called the base rate fallacy (Howson 2000: ch. 3; Lipton [1991] 2004: 196-198; Magnus & Callender 2004). Consider the following illustration. There is a test for a disease for which the rate of false negatives (negative results in cases where the disease is present) is zero, and the rate of false positives (positive results in cases where the disease is absent) is one in ten (that is, disease-free individuals test positive 10% of the time). If one tests positive, what are the chances that one has the disease? It would be a mistake to conclude that, based on the rate of false positives, the probability is 90%, for the actual probability depends on some further, crucial information: the base rate of the disease in the population (the proportion of people having it). The lower the incidence of the disease at large, the lower the probability that a positive result signals the presence of the disease.

By analogy, using the success of a scientific theory as an indicator of its approximate truth (assuming a low rate of false positives-cases in which theories far from the truth are nonetheless successful) is arguably, likewise, an instance of the base rate fallacy. The success of a theory does not by itself suggest that it is likely approximately true, and since there is no independent way of knowing the base rate of approximately true theories, the chances of it being approximately true cannot be assessed. Worrall (unpublished, Other Internet Resources) maintains that these contentions are ineffective against the miracle argument because they crucially depend on a misleading formalization of it in terms of probabilities (cf. Menke 2014; for a criticism of the miracle argument based on a different probabilistic framing in terms of likelihoods, see Sober 2015: 912-915).

2.2 Corroboration

One motivation for realism in connection with at least some unobservables comes by way of "corroboration". If an unobservable entity is putatively capable of being detected by means of a scientific instrument or experiment, this may well form the basis of a defeasible argument for realism concerning it. If, however, that same entity is putatively capable of being detected by not just one, but rather two or more different means of detection-forms of detection that are distinct with respect to the apparatuses they employ and the causal mechanisms and processes they are described as exploiting in the course of detection-this may serve as the basis of a significantly enhanced argument for realism (cf. Eronen 2015). Hacking (1983: 201; see also Hacking 1985: 146-147) gives the example of dense bodies in red blood platelets that can be detected using different forms of microscopy. Different techniques of detection, such as those employed in light microscopy and transmission electron microscopy, make use of very different sorts of physical processes, and these operations are described theoretically in terms of correspondingly different causal mechanisms. (For similar examples, see Salmon 1984: 217-219 and Franklin 1986: 166-168, 1990: 103-115.)

The argument from corroboration thus runs as follows. The fact that one and the same thing is apparently revealed by distinct modes of detection suggests that it would be an extraordinary coincidence if the supposed target of these revelations did not, in fact, exist. The greater the extent to which detections can be corroborated by different means, the stronger the argument for realism regarding their putative target. The argument here can be viewed as resting on an intuition similar to that underlying the miracle argument: realism based on apparent detection may be only so compelling, but if different, theoretically independent means of detection produce the same result, suggesting the existence of one and the same unobservable, then realism provides a good explanation of the consilient evidence, in contrast with the arguably miraculous state of affairs in which theoretically independent techniques produce the same result in the absence of a shared target. The idea that techniques of (putative) detection are often constructed or calibrated precisely with the intention of reproducing the outputs of others, however, may stand against the argument from corroboration. Additionally, van Fraassen (1985: 297-298) argues that scientific explanations of evidential consilience may be accepted without the explanations themselves being understood as true, which once again raises questions about the nature of scientific explanation.

2.3 Selective Optimism/Skepticism

In section 1.3, the notion of selectivity was introduced as a general strategy for maximizing the plausibility of realism, particularly with respect to scientific unobservables. This strategy is adopted in part to square realism with the widely accepted view that most if not all of even our best theories are false, strictly speaking. If, nevertheless, there are aspects of these theories that are true (or close to the truth) and one is able to identify these aspects, one might then plausibly cast one's realism in terms of an epistemically positive attitude toward those aspects of theories that are most worthy of epistemic commitment. The most important variants of realism to implement this strategy are explanationism, entity realism, and structural realism. (For related work pertaining to the notion of selectivity more generally, see R. Miller 1987: chs. 8-10; Fine 1991; Jones 1991; Musgrave 1992; Harker 2013; and Peters 2014.)

Explanationists hold that a realist attitude can be justified in connection with unobservables described by our best theories precisely when appealing to those unobservables is indispensable or otherwise important to explaining why these theories are successful. For example, if one takes successful novel prediction to be a hallmark of theories worthy of realist commitment generally, then explanationism suggests that, more specifically, those aspects of the theory that are essential to the derivation of such novel predictions are the parts of the theory most worthy of realist commitment. In this vein, Kitcher (1993: 140-149) draws a distinction between the "presuppositional posits" or "idle parts" of theories, and the "working posits" to which realists should commit. Psillos (1999: chs. 5-6) argues that realism can be defended by demonstrating that the success of past theories did not depend on their false components:

it is enough to show that the theoretical laws and mechanisms which generated the successes of past theories have been retained in our current scientific image. (1999: 108)

The immediate challenge to explanationism is to furnish a method with which to identify precisely those aspects of theories that are required for their success, in a way that is objective or principled enough to withstand the charge that realists are merely rationalizing post hoc, identifying the explanatorily crucial parts of past theories with aspects that have been retained in our current best theories. (For discussions, see Chang 2003; Stanford 2003a,b; Elsamahi 2005; Saatsi 2005a; Lyons 2006; Harker 2010; Cordero 2011; Votsis 2011; and Vickers 2013.)

Another version of realism that adopts the strategy of selectivity is entity realism. On this view, realist commitment is based on a putative ability to causally manipulate unobservable entities (like electrons or gene sequences) to a high degree-for example, to such a degree that one is able to intervene in other phenomena so as to bring about certain effects. The greater the ability to exploit one's apparent causal knowledge of something so as to bring about (often extraordinarily precise) outcomes, the greater the warrant for belief (Hacking 1982, 1983; cf. B. Miller 2016; Cartwright 1983: ch. 5; Giere 1988: ch. 5; on causal warrant more generally, see Egg 2012). Belief in scientific unobservables thus described is here partnered with a degree of skepticism about scientific theories more generally, and this raises questions about whether believing in entities while withholding belief with respect to the theories that describe them is a coherent or practicable combination (Morrison 1990; Elsamahi 1994; Resnik 1994; Chakravartty 1998; Clarke 2001; Massimi 2004). Entity realism is especially compatible with and nicely facilitated by the causal theory of reference associated with Kripke (1980) and Putnam ([1975b] 1985: ch. 12), according to which one can successfully refer to an entity despite significant or even radical changes in theoretical descriptions of its properties; this allows for stability of epistemic commitment when theories change over time. Whether the causal theory of reference can be applied successfully in this context, however, is a matter of dispute (see Hardin & Rosenberg 1982; Laudan 1984; Psillos 1999: ch. 12; McLeish 2005, 2006; Chakravartty 2007a: 52-56; and Landig 2014; see Weber 2014 for a case study on genes).

Structural realism is another view promoting selectivity, but in this case it is the natures of unobservable entities that are viewed skeptically, with realism reserved for the structure of the unobservable realm, as represented by certain relations described by our best theories. All of the many versions of this position fall into one of two camps: the first emphasizes an epistemic distinction between notions of structure and nature; the second emphasizes an ontological thesis. The epistemic view holds that our best theories likely do not correctly describe the natures of unobservable entities, but do successfully describe certain relations between them. The ontic view suggests that the reason realists should aspire only to knowledge of structure is that the traditional concept of entities that stand in relations is metaphysically problematic-there are, in fact, no such things, or if there are such things, they are in some sense emergent from or dependent on their relations. One challenge facing the epistemic version is that of articulating a concept of structure that makes knowledge of it effectively distinct from that of the natures of entities. The ontological version faces the challenge of clarifying the relevant notions of emergence and/or dependence. (On epistemic structural realism, see Worrall 1989; Psillos 1995, 2006; Votsis 2003; and Morganti 2004; regarding ontic structural realism, see French 1998, 2006, 2014; Ladyman 1998; Psillos 2001, 2006; Ladyman & Ross 2007; and Chakravartty 2007a: ch. 3. See Frigg & Votsis 2011 for an extensive critical survey).

3. Considerations Against Scientific Realism (and Responses)

3.1 The Underdetermination of Theory by Data

Lined up in opposition to the various motivations for realism presented in section 2 are a number of important antirealist arguments, all of which have pressed realists either to attempt their refutation, or to modify their realism accordingly. One of these challenges, the underdetermination of theory by data, has a storied history in twentieth century philosophy more generally, and is often traced to the work of Duhem ([1906] 1954: ch. 6; this is not an argument for underdetermination as such, but is regarded as sowing the seeds). In remarks concerning the confirmation of scientific hypotheses (in physics, which he contrasted with chemistry and physiology), Duhem noted that a hypothesis cannot be used to derive testable predictions in isolation. To derive predictions one also requires "auxiliary" assumptions, such as background theories, hypotheses about instruments and measurements, etc. If subsequent observation and experiment produces data that conflict with those predicted, one might think that this reflects badly on the hypothesis under test, but Duhem pointed out that given all of the assumptions required to derive predictions, it is no simple matter to identify where the error lies. Different amendments to one's overall set of beliefs regarding hypotheses and theories will be consistent with the data. A similar result is commonly associated with the later "confirmational holism" of Quine (1953), according to which experience (including, of course, that associated with scientific testing) does not confirm or disconfirm individual beliefs per se, but rather the set of one's beliefs taken as a whole. This sort of contention is now commonly referred to as the "Duhem-Quine thesis" (Quine 1975; see Ben-Menahem 2006 for a historical introduction).

How then does this give rise to underdetermination, a presumptive concern for realism? The argument from underdetermination proceeds as follows: let us call the relevant, overall sets of scientific beliefs "theories"; different, conflicting theories are consistent with the data; the data exhaust the evidence for belief; therefore, there is no evidential reason to believe one of these theories as opposed to another. Given that the theories differ precisely in what they say about the unobservable (their observable consequences-the data-are all shared), a challenge to realism emerges: the choice of which theory to believe is underdetermined by the data. In contemporary discussions, the challenge is usually presented using slightly different terminology. Every theory, it is said, has empirically equivalent rivals-that is, rivals that agree with respect to the observable, but differ with respect to the unobservable. This then serves as the basis of a skeptical argument regarding the truth of any particular theory the realist may wish to endorse. Various forms of antirealism then suggest that hypotheses and theories involving unobservables are endorsed, not merely on the basis of evidence that may be relevant to their truth, but also on the basis of other factors that are not indicative of truth as such (see sections 3.2, and 4.2 -4.4). (For recent explications, see van Fraassen 1980: ch. 3; Earman 1993; Kukla 1998: chs. 5-6; and Stanford 2001.)

The argument from underdetermination is contested in a number of ways. One might, for example, distinguish between underdetermination in practice (or at a time) and underdetermination in principle. In the former case, there is underdetermination only because the data that would support one theory or hypothesis at the expense of another is unavailable, pending foreseeable developments in experimental technique or instrumentation. Here, realism is arguably consistent with a "wait and see" attitude, though if the prospect of future discriminating evidence is poor, a commitment to future realism may be questioned thereby. In any case, most proponents of underdetermination insist on the idea of underdetermination in principle: the idea that there are always (plausible) empirically equivalent rivals no matter what evidence may come to light. In response, some argue that the principled worry cannot be established, since what counts as data is apt to change over time with the development of new techniques and instruments, and with changes in scientific background knowledge, which alter the auxiliary assumptions required to derive observable predictions (Laudan & Leplin 1991). Such arguments may rest, however, on a different conception of observation than that assumed by many antirealists (defined above, in terms of human sensory capacities). (For other responses, see Okasha 2002; van Dyck 2007; Busch 2009; and Worrall 2011.)

Stanford (2006, 2015) proposes a historicized version of the argument from underdetermination, suggesting that the history of science reveals a recurring "problem of unconceived alternatives": typically, at any given time, there are theories that do not occur to scientists but which are just as well confirmed by the available evidence as those that are, in fact, accepted; furthermore, over time, such unconceived theories often supplant the theories adopted by historical actors as the relevant science develops. (For discussions and evaluations of this challenge, see Chakravartty 2008; Godfrey-Smith 2008; Magnus 2010; Lyons 2013; Mizrahi 2015: 139-146; and Egg 2016; cf. Wray 2008 and Khalifa 2010 on the related notion of "underconsideration", as described by Lipton 1993, [1991] 2004: 151-163.)

3.2 Skepticism about Inference to the Best Explanation

One especially important reaction to concerns about the alleged underdetermination of theory by data gives rise to another leading antirealist argument. This reaction is to reject one of the key premises of the argument from underdetermination, viz. that evidence for belief in a theory is exhausted by the empirical data. Many realists contend that other considerations-most prominently, explanatory considerations-play an evidential role in scientific inference. If this is so, then even if one were to grant the idea that all theories have empirically equivalent rivals, this would not entail underdetermination, for the explanatory superiority of one in particular may determine a choice (Laudan 1990; Day & Botterill 2008). This is a specific exemplification of a form of reasoning by which "we infer what would, if true, provide the best explanation of [the] evidence" (Lipton [1991] 2004: 1). To put a realist-sounding spin on it:

one infers, from the premise that a given hypothesis would provide a "better" explanation for the evidence than would any other hypothesis, to the conclusion that the given hypothesis is true. (Harman 1965: 89)

Inference to the best explanation (as per Lipton's formulation) seems ubiquitous in scientific practice. The question of whether it can be expected to yield knowledge of the sort suggested by realism (as per Harman's formulation) is, however, a matter of dispute.

Two difficulties are immediately apparent regarding the realist aspiration to infer truth (approximate truth, existence of entities, etc.) from hypotheses or theories that are judged best on explanatory grounds. The first concerns the grounds themselves. In order to judge that one theory furnishes a better explanation of some phenomenon than another, one must employ some criterion or criteria on the basis of which the judgment is made. Many have been proposed: simplicity (whether of mathematical description or in terms of the number or nature of the entities involved); consistency and coherence (both internally, and externally with respect to other theories and background knowledge); scope and unity (pertaining to the domain of phenomena explained); and so on. One challenge here concerns whether virtues such as these can be defined precisely enough to permit relative rankings of explanatory goodness. Another challenge concerns the multiple meanings associated with some virtues (consider, for example, mathematical versus ontological simplicity). Another concerns the possibility that such virtues may not all favor any one theory in particular. Finally, there is the question of whether these virtues should be considered evidential or epistemic, as opposed to merely pragmatic. What reason is there to think, for instance, that simplicity is an indicator of truth? Thus, the ability to rank theories with respect to their likelihood of being true may be questioned.

A second difficulty facing inference to the best explanation concerns the pools of theories regarding which judgments of relative explanatory efficacy are made. Even if scientists are likely reliable rankers of theories with respect to truth, this will not lead to belief in a true theory (in some domain) unless that theory in particular happens to be among those considered. Otherwise, as van Fraassen (1989: 143) notes, one may simply end up with "the best of a bad lot". Given the widespread view, even among realists, that many and perhaps most of our best theories are false, strictly speaking, this concern may seem especially pressing. However, in just the way that the realist strategy of selectivity (see section 2.3) may offer responses to the question of what it could mean for a theory to be close to the truth without being true simpliciter, this same strategy may offer the beginnings of a response here. That is to say, the best theory of a bad lot may nonetheless describe unobservable aspects of the world in such a way as to meet the standards of variants of realism including explanationism, entity realism, and structural realism. (For a book-length treatment of inference to the best explanation, see Lipton [1991] 2004; for defenses, see Lipton 1993; Day & Kincaid 1994; and Psillos 1996, 2009: part III; for critiques, see van Fraassen 1989: chs. 6-7; Ladyman, Douven, Horsten, & van Fraassen 1997; Wray 2008; and Khalifa 2010.)

3.3 The Pessimistic Induction

Worries about underdetermination and inference to the best explanation are generally conceptual in nature, but the so-called pessimistic induction (also called the "pessimistic meta-induction", because it concerns the "ground level" inductive inferences that generate scientific theories and law statements) is intended as an argument from empirical premises. If one considers the history of scientific theories in any given discipline, what one typically finds is a regular turnover of older theories in favor of newer ones, as scientific knowledge develops. From the point of view of the present, most past theories must be considered false; indeed, this will be true from the point of view of most times. Therefore, by enumerative induction (that is, generalizing from these cases), surely theories at any given time will ultimately be replaced and regarded as false from some future perspective. Thus, current theories are also false. The general idea of the pessimistic induction has a rich pedigree. Though neither endorse the argument, Poincaré ([1905] 1952: 160), for instance, describes the seeming "bankruptcy of science" given the apparently "ephemeral nature" of scientific theories, which one finds "abandoned one after another", and Putnam (1978: 22-25) describes the challenge in terms of the failure of reference of terms for unobservables, with the consequence that theories incorporating them cannot be said to be true. (For a summary of different formulations, see Wray 2015.)

Contemporary discussion commonly focuses on Laudan's (1981) argument to the effect that the history of science furnishes vast evidence of empirically successful theories that were later rejected; from subsequent perspectives, their unobservable terms were judged not to refer and thus, they cannot not be regarded as true or even approximately true. (If one prefers to define realism in terms of scientific ontology rather than reference and truth, one may rephrase the worry in terms of the mistaken ontologies of past theories from later perspectives.) Responses to this argument generally take one of two forms, the first stemming from the qualifications to realism outlined in section 1.3, and the second from the forms of realist selectivity outlined in section 2.3-both can be understood as attempts to restrict the inductive basis of the argument in such a way as to foil the pessimistic conclusion. For example, one might contend that if only sufficiently mature and non- ad hoc theories are considered, the number whose central terms did not refer and/or that cannot be regarded as approximately true is dramatically reduced (see references, section 1.3). Or, the realist might grant that the history of science presents a record of significant referential discontinuity, but contend that, nevertheless, it also presents a record of impressive continuity regarding what is properly endorsed by realism, as recommended by explanationists, entity realists, or structural realists (see references, section 2.3). (For other responses, see Leplin 1981; McAllister 1993; Chakravartty 2007a: ch. 2; Doppelt 2007; Nola 2008; Roush 2010, 2015; and Fahrbach 2011. Hardin & Rosenberg 1982; Cruse & Papineau 2002; and Papineau 2010 explore the idea that reference is irrelevant to approximate truth).

In just the way that some authors suggest that the miracle argument is an instance of fallacious reasoning-the base rate fallacy (see section 2.1)-some suggest that the pessimistic induction is likewise flawed (Lewis 2001; Lange 2002; Magnus & Callender 2004). The argument is analogous: the putative failure of reference on the part of past successful theories, or their putative lack of approximate truth, cannot be used to derive a conclusion regarding the chances that our current best theories do not refer to unobservables, or that they are not approximately true, unless one knows the base rate of non-referring or non-approximately true theories in the relevant pools. And since one cannot know this independently, the pessimistic induction is fallacious. Again, analogously, one might argue that to formalize the argument in terms of probabilities, as is required in order to invoke the base rate fallacy, is to miss the more fundamental point underlying the pessimistic induction (Saatsi 2005b). One might read the argument simply as cutting a supposed link between the empirical success of scientific theories and successful reference or approximate truth, as opposed to relying on an inductive inference per se. If even a few examples from the history of science demonstrate that theories can be empirically successful and yet fail to refer to the central unobservables they invoke, or fail to be what realists would regard as approximately true, this constitutes a prima facie challenge to the notion that only realism can explain the success of science.

3.4 Skepticism about Approximate Truth

The regular appeal to the notion of approximate truth by realists has several motivations. The widespread use of abstraction (that is, incorporating some but not all of the relevant parameters into scientific descriptions) and idealization (distorting the natures of certain parameters) suggests that even many of our best theories and models are not strictly correct. The common realist contention that theories can be viewed as gradually converging on the truth as scientific inquiry advances suggests that such progress is amenable to assessment or measurement in some way, if only in principle. And even for realists who are not convergentists as such, the importance of cashing out the metaphor of theories being close to the truth is pressing in the face of antirealist assertions to the effect that the metaphor is empty. The challenge to make good on the metaphor and explicate, in precise terms, what approximate truth could be, is one source of skepticism about realism. Two broad strategies have emerged in response to this challenge: attempts to quantify approximate truth by formally defining the concept and the related notion of relative approximate truth; and attempts to explicate the concept informally.

The formal route was inaugurated by Popper (1972: 231-236), who defined relative orderings of "verisimilitude" (literally, "likeness to truth") between theories in a given domain over time by means of a comparison of their true and false consequences. D. Miller (1974) and Tichý (1974) proved that there is a technical problem with this account, however, yielding the consequence that in order for theory A to have greater verisimilitude than theory B, A must be true simpliciter, which leaves the realist desideratum of explaining how strictly false theories can differ with respect to approximate truth unsatisfied (see also Oddie 1986a). Another formal account is the possible worlds approach (also called the "similarity" approach), according to which the truth conditions of a theory are identified with the set of possible worlds in which it is true, and "truth-likeness" is calculated by means of a function that measures the average or some other mathematical "distance" between the actual world and the worlds in that set, thereby facilitating orderings of theories with respect to truth-likeness (Tichý 1976, 1978; Oddie 1986b; Niiniluoto 1987, 1998; for critiques, see D. Miller 1976 and Aronson 1990). One last attempt to formalize approximate truth is the type hierarchies approach, which analyzes truth-likeness in terms of similarity relationships between nodes in tree-structured graphs of types and subtypes representing scientific concepts on the one hand, and the entities in the world they putatively represent on the other (Aronson 1990; Aronson, Harré, & Way 1994: 15-49; for a critique, see Psillos 1999: 270-273).

Less formally and perhaps more typically, realists have attempted to explicate approximate truth in qualitative terms. One common suggestion is that a theory may be considered more approximately true than one that preceded it if the earlier theory can be described as a "limiting case" of the later one. The idea of limiting cases and inter-theory relations more generally is elaborated by Post (1971; see also French & Kamminga 1993), who argues that certain heuristic principles in science yield theories that "conserve" the successful parts of their predecessors. His "General Correspondence Principle" states that later theories commonly account for the successes of their predecessors by "degenerating" into earlier theories in domains in which the earlier ones are well confirmed. Hence, for example, the often cited claim that certain equations in relativistic physics degenerate into the corresponding equations in classical physics in the limit, as velocity tends to zero. The realist may then contend that later theories offer more approximately true descriptions of the relevant subject matter, and that the ways in which they do this can be illuminated in part by studying the ways in which they build on the limiting cases represented by their predecessors. (For further takes on approximate truth, see Leplin 1981; Boyd 1990; Weston 1992; Smith 1998; Chakravartty 2010, and Northcott 2013.)

4. Antirealism: Foils for Scientific Realism

4.1 Empiricism

The term "antirealism" (or "anti-realism") encompasses any position that is opposed to realism along one or more of the dimensions canvassed in section 1.2: the metaphysical commitment to the existence of a mind-independent reality; the semantic commitment to interpret theories literally or at face value; and the epistemological commitment to regard theories as furnishing knowledge of both observables and unobservables. As a result, and as one might expect, there are many different ways to be an antirealist, and many different positions qualify as antirealism (cf. Kitcher 2001: 161-163). In the historical development of realism, arguably the most important strains of antirealism have been varieties of empiricism which, given their emphasis on experience as a source and subject matter of knowledge, are naturally set against the idea of knowledge of unobservables. It is possible to be an empiricist more broadly speaking in a way that is consistent with realism-for example, one might endorse the idea that knowledge of the world stems from empirical investigation and contend that on this basis, one can justifiably infer certain things about unobservables. In the first half of the twentieth century, however, empiricism came predominantly in the form of varieties of "instrumentalism": the view that theories are merely instruments for predicting observable phenomena or systematizing observation reports.

According to the best known, traditional form of instrumentalism, terms for unobservables have no meaning all by themselves; construed literally, statements involving them are not even candidates for truth or falsity (cf. a more recent proposal in Rowbottom 2011). The most influential advocates of this view were the logical empiricists (or logical positivists), including Carnap and Hempel, famously associated with the Vienna Circle group of philosophers and scientists as well as important contributors elsewhere. In order to rationalize the ubiquitous use of terms which might otherwise be taken to refer to unobservables in scientific discourse, they adopted a non-literal semantics according to which these terms acquire meaning by being associated with terms for observables (for example, "electron" might mean "white streak in a cloud chamber"), or with demonstrable laboratory procedures (a view called "operationalism"). Insuperable difficulties with this semantics led ultimately (in large measure) to the demise of logical empiricism and the growth of realism. The contrast here is not merely in semantics and epistemology: a number of logical empiricists also held the neo-Kantian view that ontological questions "external" to the frameworks for knowledge represented by theories are also meaningless (the choice of a framework is made solely on pragmatic grounds), thereby rejecting the metaphysical dimension of realism (as in Carnap 1950). (Duhem [1906] 1954 was influential with respect to instrumentalism; for a critique of logical empiricist semantics, see H. Brown 1977: ch. 3; on logical empiricism more generally, see Giere & Richardson 1997 and Richardson & Uebel 2007; on the neo-Kantian reading, see Richardson 1998 and Friedman 1999.)

Van Fraassen (1980) reinvented empiricism in the scientific context, evading many of the challenges faced by logical empiricism by adopting a realist semantics. His position, "constructive empiricism", holds that the aim of science is empirical adequacy, where "a theory is empirically adequate exactly if what it says about the observable things and events in the world, is true" (1980: 12; p. 64 gives a more technical definition in terms of the embedding of observable structures in scientific models). Crucially, unlike logical empiricism, constructive empiricism interprets theories in precisely the same manner as realism. The antirealism of the position is due entirely to its epistemology-it recommends belief in our best theories only insofar as they describe observable phenomena, and is satisfied with an agnostic attitude regarding anything unobservable. The constructive empiricist thus recognizes claims about unobservables as true or false, but feels no need to believe or disbelieve them. In focusing on belief in the domain of the observable, the position is similar to traditional instrumentalism, and is for this reason sometimes described as a form of instrumentalism. (For elaborations of the view, see van Fraassen 1985, 2001 and Rosen 1994.) There are also affinities here with the idea of fictionalism, according to which things in the world are and behave as if our best scientific theories are true (Vaihinger [1911] 1923; Fine 1993).

4.2 Historicism

The collapse of the logical empiricist program was in part facilitated by a historical turn in the philosophy of science in the 1960s, associated with authors such as Kuhn, Feyerabend, and Hanson. Kuhn's highly influential work, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, played a significant role in establishing a lasting interest in a form of historicism about scientific knowledge, particularly among those interested in the nature of scientific practice. An underlying principle of the historical turn was to take the history of science and its practice seriously by furnishing descriptions of scientific knowledge in situ. Kuhn argued that the fruits of such history illuminate a recurring pattern: periods of so-called normal science, often fairly long in duration (consider, for example, the periods dominated by classical physics, or relativistic physics), punctuated by revolutions which lead scientific communities from one period of normal science into another. The implications for realism on this picture derive from Kuhn's characterization of knowledge on either side of a revolutionary divide. Two different periods of normal science, he said, are "incommensurable" with one another, in such a way as to render the world importantly different after a revolution (the phenomenon of "world change"). (Among the many detailed studies of these topics, see Horwich 1993; Hoyningen-Huene 1993; Sankey 1994; and Bird 2000.)

The notion of incommensurability applies to ( inter alia) a comparison of theories operative during different periods of normal science. Kuhn held that if two theories are incommensurable, they are not comparable in a way that would permit the judgment that one is epistemically superior to the other, because different periods of normal science are characterized by different "paradigms" (commitments to symbolic representations of the phenomena, metaphysical beliefs, values, and problem solving techniques). As a consequence, scientists in different periods of normal science generally employ different methods and standards, experience the world differently via "theory laden" perceptions, and most importantly for Kuhn (1983), differ with respect to the very meanings of their terms. This is a version of meaning holism or contextualism, according to which the meaning of a term or concept is exhausted by its connections to others within a paradigm. A change in any part of this network entails a change in meanings throughout-the term "mass", for instance, has different meanings in the contexts of classical physics and relativistic physics. Thus, any judgment to the effect that the latter's characterization of mass is closer to the truth, or even that the relevant theories describe the same property, is importantly confused: it equivocates between two different concepts which can only be understood in an appropriately historicized manner, from the perspectives of the paradigms in which they occur.

The changes in perception, conceptualization, and language that Kuhn associated with changes in paradigm also fuelled his notion of world change, which further extends the contrast of the historicist approach with realism. There is an important sense, Kuhn maintained, in which after a scientific revolution, scientists live in a different world. This is a famously cryptic remark in Structure ([1962] 1970: 111, 121, 150), but he (2000: 264) later gives it a neo-Kantian spin: paradigms function so as to create the reality of scientific phenomena, thereby allowing scientists to engage with this reality. On such a view, it would seem that not only the meanings but also the referents of terms are constrained by paradigmatic boundaries. And thus, reflecting an interesting parallel with neo-Kantian logical empiricism, the idea of a paradigm-transcendent world which is investigated by scientists, and about which one might have knowledge, has no obvious cognitive content. On this picture, empirical reality is structured by scientific paradigms, and this conflicts with the commitment of realism to knowledge of a mind-independent world.

4.3 Social Constructivism

One outcome of the historical turn in the philosophy of science and its emphasis on scientific practice was a focus on the complex social interactions that inevitably surround and infuse the generation of scientific knowledge. Relations between experts, their students, and the public, collaboration and competition between individuals and institutions, and social, economic, and political contexts became the subjects of an approach to studying the sciences known as the sociology of scientific knowledge, or SSK. Though in theory, a commitment to studying the sciences from a sociological perspective is interpretable in such a way as to be neutral with respect to realism (Lewens 2005; cf. Kochan 2010), in practice, most accounts of science inspired by SSK are implicitly or explicitly antirealist. This antirealism in practice stems from the common suggestion that once one appreciates the role that social factors (using this as a generic term for the sorts of interactions and contexts indicated above) play in the production of scientific knowledge, a philosophical commitment to some form of "social constructivism" is inescapable, and this latter commitment is inconsistent with various aspects of realism.

The term "social construction" refers to any knowledge-generating process in which what counts as a fact is substantively determined by social factors, and in which different social factors would likely generate facts that are inconsistent with what is actually produced. The important implication here is thus a counterfactual claim about the dependence of facts on social factors. There are numerous ways in which social determinants of facthood may be consistent with realism. For example, social factors might determine the directions and methodologies of research that are permitted, encouraged, and funded, but this by itself need not undermine a realist attitude with respect to the outputs of scientific work. Often, however, work in SSK takes the form of case studies that aim to demonstrate how particular decisions affecting scientific work were (or are) influenced by social factors which, had they been different, would have facilitated results that are inconsistent with those ultimately accepted as scientific fact. Some, including proponents of the so-called Strong Program in SSK, argue that for more general, principled reasons, such factual contingency is inevitable. (For a sample of influential approaches to social constructivism, see Latour & Woolgar [1979] 1986; Knorr-Cetina 1981; Pickering 1984; Shapin & Schaffer 1985; and Collins & Pinch 1993; on the Strong Program, see Barnes, Bloor, & Henry 1996; for a historical study of the transition from Kuhn to SSK and social constructivism, see Zammito 2004: chs. 5-7.)

By making social factors an inextricable, substantive determinant of what counts as true or false in the realm of the sciences (and elsewhere), social constructivism stands opposed to the realist contention that theories can be understood as furnishing knowledge of a mind-independent world. And as in the historicist approach, notions such as truth, reference, and ontology are here relative to particular contexts; they have no context-transcendent significance. The later work of Kuhn and Wittgenstein in particular were influential in the development of the Strong Program doctrine of "meaning finitism", according to which the meanings of terms are conceived as social institutions: the various ways in which they are used successfully in communication within a linguistic community. This theory of meaning forms the basis of an argument to the effect that the meanings of scientific (and other) terms are products of social negotiation and need not be fixed or determinate, which further conflicts with a number of realist notions, including the idea of convergence toward true theories, improvements with respect to ontology or approximate truth, and determinate reference to mind-independent entities. The subject of neo-Kantianism thus emerges here again, though its strength in constructivist doctrines varies significantly. (For a robustly finitist view, see Kusch 2002; for a more moderate constructivism, see Putnam's (1981: ch. 3) "internal realism" and cf. Ellis 1988).

4.4 Feminist Approaches

Feminist engagements with science are linked thematically to SSK and forms of social constructivism by their recognition of the role of social factors as determinants of scientific fact. That said, they extend the analysis in a more specific way, reflecting particular concerns about the marginalization of points of view based on gender, ethnicity, socio-economic status, and political status. Not all feminist approaches are antirealist, but nearly all are normative, offering prescriptions for revising both scientific practice and concepts such as objectivity and knowledge that have direct implications for realism. In this regard it is useful to distinguish (as originally proposed in Harding 1986) between three broad approaches. Feminist empiricism focuses on the possibility of warranted belief within scientific communities as a function of the transparency and consideration of biases associated with different points of view which enter into scientific work. Standpoint theory investigates the idea that scientific knowledge is inextricably linked to perspectives arising from differences in such points of view. Feminist postmodernism rejects traditional conceptions of universal or absolute objectivity and truth. (As one might expect, these views are not always neatly distinguishable; for some early, influential approaches, see Keller 1985; Harding 1986; Haraway 1988; Longino 1990, 2002; Alcoff & Potter 1993; and Nelson & Nelson 1996).

The notion of objectivity has a number of traditional connotations-including disinterest (detachment, lack of bias) and universality (independence from any particular perspective or viewpoint)-which are commonly associated with knowledge of a mind-independent world. Feminist critiques are almost unanimous in rejecting scientific objectivity in the sense of disinterest, offering case studies that aim to demonstrate how the presence of (for example) androcentric bias in a scientific community can lead to the acceptance of one theory at the expense of alternatives (Kourany 2010: chs. 1-3; for detailed cases, see Longino 1990: ch. 6 and Lloyd 2006). Arguably, the failure of objectivity in this sense is consistent with realism under certain conditions. For example, if the relevant bias is epistemically neutral (that is, if one's assessment of scientific evidence is not influenced by it one way or another), then realism may remain at least one viable interpretation of the outputs of scientific work. In the more interesting case where bias is epistemically consequential, the prospects for realism are diminished, but may be enhanced by a scientific infrastructure that functions to bring it under scrutiny (by means of, for example, effective peer review, genuine consideration of minority views, etc.), thus facilitating corrective measures where appropriate. The contention that the sciences do not generally exemplify such an infrastructure is one motivation for the normativity of much feminist empiricism.

The challenge to objectivity in the sense of universality or perspective-independence can be, in some cases, more difficult to square with the possibility of realism. In a Marxist vein, some standpoint theorists argue that certain perspectives are epistemically privileged in the realm of science: viz., subjugated perspectives are epistemically privileged in comparison to dominant ones in light of the deeper insight afforded the former (just as the proletariat has a deeper knowledge of human potential than the superficial knowledge typical of those in power). Others portray epistemic privilege in a more splintered or deflationary manner, suggesting that no one point of view can be established as superior to another by any overarching standard of epistemological assessment. This view is most explicit in feminist postmodernism, which embraces a thoroughgoing relativism with respect to truth (and presumably approximate truth, scientific ontology, and other notions central to various descriptions of realism). As in the case of Strong Program SSK, truth and epistemic standards are here defined only within the context of a perspective, and thus cannot be interpreted in any context-transcendent or mind-independent manner.

4.5 Pragmatism, Quietism, and Dialectical Paralysis

It is not uncommon to hear philosophers remark that the dialogue between the forms of realism and antirealism surveyed in this article shows every symptom of a perennial philosophical dispute. The issues contested range so broadly and elicit so many competing intuitions (about which, arguably, reasonable people may disagree) that some question whether a resolution is even possible. This prognosis of potentially irresolvable dialectical complexity is relevant to a number of further views in the philosophy of science, some of which arise as direct responses to it. For example, Fine ([1986b] 1996: chs. 7-8) argues that ultimately, neither realism nor antirealism is tenable, and recommends what he calls the "natural ontological attitude" (NOA) instead (see Rouse 1988, 1991 for detailed explorations of the view). NOA is intended to comprise a neutral, common core of realist and antirealist attitudes of acceptance of our best theories. The mistake that both parties make, Fine suggests, is to add further epistemological and metaphysical diagnoses to this shared position, such as pronouncements about which aspects of scientific ontology should be viewed as real, which are proper subjects of belief, and so on. Others contend that this sort of approach to scientific knowledge is non- or anti-philosophical, and defend philosophical engagement in debates about realism (Crasnow 2000, Mcarthur 2006). Musgrave (1989) argues that the view is either empty or collapses into realism.

The idea of putting the conflict between realist and antirealist approaches to science aside is also a recurring theme in some accounts of pragmatism, and quietism. Regarding the first, Peirce ([1992] 1998, in "How to Make Our Ideas Clear", for instance, originally published in 1878) holds that the content of a proposition should be understood in terms of (among other things) its "practical consequences" for human experience, such as implications for observation or problem-solving. For James ([1907] 1979), positive utility measured in these terms is the very marker of truth (where truth is whatever will be agreed in the ideal limit of scientific inquiry). Many of the points disputed by realists and antirealists-differences in epistemic commitment to scientific entities based on observability, for example-are effectively non-issues on this view (Almeder 2007; Misak 2010). It is nevertheless a form of antirealism on traditional readings of Peirce and James, since both suggest that truth in the pragmatist sense exhausts our conception of reality, thus running foul of the metaphysical dimension of realism. The notion of quietism is often associated with Wittgenstein's response to philosophical problems about which, he maintained, nothing sensible can be said. This is not to say that engaging with such a problem is not to one's taste, but rather that quite independently of one's interest or lack thereof, the dispute itself concerns a pseudo-problem. Blackburn (2002) suggests that disputes about realism may have this character.

One last take on the putative irresolvability of debates concerning realism focuses on certain meta-philosophical commitments adopted by the interlocutors. Wylie (1986: 287), for instance, claims that

the most sophisticated positions on either side now incorporate self-justifying conceptions of the aim of philosophy and of the standards of adequacy appropriate for judging philosophical theories of science.

Different assumptions ab initio regarding what sorts of inferences are legitimate, what sorts of evidence reasonably support belief, whether there is a genuine demand for the explanation of observable phenomena in terms of underlying realities, and so on, may render some arguments between realists and antirealists question-begging. This diagnosis is arguably facilitated by van Fraassen's (1989: 170-176, 1994: 182) intimation that neither realism nor antirealism (in his case, empiricism) is ruled out by plausible canons of rationality; each is sustained by a different conception of how much epistemic risk one should take in forming beliefs on the basis of one's evidence. An intriguing question then emerges as to whether disputes surrounding realism and antirealism are resolvable in principle, or whether, ultimately, internally consistent and coherent formulations of these positions should be regarded as irreconcilable but nonetheless permissible interpretations of scientific knowledge (Chakravartty 2017; Forbes forthcoming).

Bibliography

Achinstein, Peter, 2002, "Is There a Valid Experimental Argument for Scientific Realism?", Journal of Philosophy, 99(9): 470-495. doi:10.2307/3655684

Alai, Mario, 2014, "Novel Predictions and the No Miracle Argument", Erkenntnis, 79(2): 297-326. doi:10.1007/s10670-013-9495-7

Alcoff, Linda and Elizabeth Potter (eds.), 1993, Feminist Epistemologies, London: Routledge.

Almeder, Robert, 2007, "Pragmatism and Philosophy of Science: A Critical Survey", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 21(2): 171-195. doi:10.1080/02698590701498100

Aronson, Jerrold L., 1990, "Verisimilitude and Type Hierarchies", Philosophical Topics, 18(2): 5-28. doi:10.5840/philtopics19901821

Aronson, Jerrold L., Rom Harré, and Eileen Cornell Way, 1994, Realism Rescued: How Scientific Progress is Possible, London: Duckworth.

Asay, Jamin, 2013, "Three Paradigms of Scientific Realism: A Truthmaking Account": International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 27(1): 1-21. doi:10.1080/02698595.2013.783971

Barnes, Barry, David Bloor and John Henry, 1996, Scientific Knowledge, London: Athlone.

Barnes, E.C., 2002, "The Miraculous Choice Argument for Realism", Philosophical Studies, 111(2): 97-120. doi:10.1023/A:1021204812809

---, 2008, The Paradox of Predictivism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ben-Menahem, Yemima, 2006, Conventionalism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Bird, Alexander, 2000, Thomas Kuhn, Chesham: Acumen.

Blackburn, Simon, 2002, "Realism: Deconstructing the Debate", Ratio, 15(2): 111-133. doi:10.1111/1467-9329.00180

Boyd, Richard N., 1983, "On the Current Status of the Issue of Scientific Realism", Erkenntnis, 19(1/3): 45-90. doi:10.1007/BF00174775

---, 1989, "What Realism Implies and What it Does Not", Dialectica, 43(1-2): 5-29. doi:10.1111/j.1746-8361.1989.tb00928.x

---, 1990, "Realism, Approximate Truth and Philosophical Method", in Savage 1990: 355-391.

---, 1999, "Kinds as the 'Workmanship of Men': Realism, Constructivism, and Natural Kinds", in J. Nida-Rümelin (ed.), Rationalität, Realismus, Revision: Proceedings of the Third International Congress, Gesellschaft für Analytische Philosophie, Berlin: de Gruyter, pp. 52-89.

Brown, Harold I., 1977, Perception, Theory and Commitment: The New Philosophy of Science, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Brown, James Robert, 1982, "The Miracle of Science", Philosophical Quarterly, 32(128): 232-244. doi:10.2307/2219325

Busch, Jacob, 2008, "No New Miracles, Same Old Tricks", Theoria, 74(2): 102-114. doi:10.1111/j.1755-2567.2008.00011.x

---, 2009, "Underdetermination and Rational Choice of Theories", Philosophia, 37(1): 55-65. doi:10.1007/s11406-008-9133-9

Carnap, Rudolf, 1950, "Empiricism, Semantics and Ontology", Revue Intérnationale de Philosophie, 4: 20-40. Reprinted in Rudolph Carnap, 1956,Meaning and Necessity: A Study in Semantic and Modal Logic, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Cartwright, Nancy, 1983, How the Laws of Physics Lie, Oxford: Clarendon. doi:10.1093/0198247044.001.0001

Chakravartty, Anjan, 1998, "Semirealism", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part A, 29: 391-408.

---, 2007a, A Metaphysics for Scientific Realism: Knowing the Unobservable, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2007b, "Six Degrees of Speculation: Metaphysics in Empirical Contexts", in Monton 2007: 183-208. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199218844.003.0010

---, 2008, "What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You: Realism and the Unconceived", Philosophical Studies, 137(1): 149-158. doi:10.1007/s11098-007-9173-1

---, 2010, "Truth and Representation in Science: Two Inspirations from Art", in Roman Frigg & Matthew Hunter (eds.), Beyond Mimesis and Convention: Representation in Art and Science, (Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science), Dordrecht: Springer, pp. 33-50.

---, 2017, Scientific Ontology: Integrating Naturalized Metaphysics and Voluntarist Epistemology, New York: Oxford University Press.

Chang, Hasok, 2003, "Preservative Realism and Its Discontents: Revisiting Caloric", Philosophy of Science, 70(5): 902-912. doi:10.1086/377376

Churchland, Paul M., 1985, "The Ontological Status of Observables: In Praise of the Superempirical Virtues", in Churchland & Hooker 1985: 35-47.

Churchland, Paul M. and Clifford A. Hooker (eds.), 1985, Images of Science: Essays on Realism and Empiricism, (with a reply from Bas C. van Fraassen), Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Clarke, Steve, 2001, "Defensible Territory for Entity Realism", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 52(4): 701-722. doi:10.1093/bjps/52.4.701

Collins, Harry and Trevor Pinch, 1993, The Golem: What Everyone Should Know About Science, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cordero, Alberto, 2011, "Scientific Realism and the Divide et Impera Strategy: The Ether Saga Revisited", Philosophy of Science, 78(5): 1120-1130. doi:0.1086/662566

Crasnow, Sharon L., 2000, "How Natural Can Ontology Be?", Philosophy of Science, 67(1): 114-132. doi:10.1086/392764

Cruse, Pierre and David Papineau, 2002, "Scientific Realism Without Reference", in Michele Marsonet (ed.), The Problem of Realism, London: Ashgate, pp. 174-189.

Day, Mark and George S. Botterill, 2008, "Contrast, Inference and Scientific Realism", Synthese, 160(2): 249-267. doi:10.1007/s11229-006-9117-x

Day, Timothy and Harold Kincaid, 1994, "Putting Inference to the Best Explanation in its Place", Synthese, 98(2): 271-295. doi:10.1007/BF01063944

Dellsén, Finnur, 2016, "Explanatory Rivals and the Ultimate Argument", Theoria, 82(3): 217-237. doi:10.1111/theo.12084

Devitt, Michael, 1991, Realism and Truth, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2005, "Scientific Realism", in Frank Jackson & Michael Smith (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Contemporary Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 767-791. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199234769.003.0026

Dicken, Paul, 2013, "Normativity, the Base-rate Fallacy, and Some Problems for Retail Realism", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science Part A, 44(4): 563-570.

Dicken, Paul and Peter Lipton, 2006, "What can Bas Believe? Musgrave and van Fraassen on Observability", Analysis, 66(291): 226-233. doi:10.1111/j.1467-8284.2006.00619.x

Doppelt, Gerald, 2007, "Reconstructing Scientific Realism to Rebut the Pessimistic Meta-Induction", Philosophy of Science, 74(1): 96-118. doi:10.1086/520685

Duhem, Pierre Maurice Marie, [1906] 1954, The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory, Philip P. Wiener (tr.), Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Dupré, John, 1993, The Disorder of Things: Metaphysical Foundations of the Disunity of Science. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Earman, John, 1993, "Underdetermination, Realism, and Reason", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 18: 19-38. doi:10.1111/j.1475-4975.1993.tb00255.x

Egg, Matthias, 2012, "Causal Warrant for Realism about Particle Physics", Journal for General Philosophy of Science, 43(2): 259-280. doi:10.1007/s10838-012-9202-4

---, 2016, "Expanding Our Grasp: Causal Knowledge and the Problem of Unconceived Alternatives", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 67(1): 115-141. doi:10.1093/bjps/axu025

Ellis, Brian, 1988, "Internal Realism", Synthese, 76(3): 409-434. doi:10.1007/BF00869609

Elsamahi, Mohamed, 1994, "Could Theoretical Entities Save Realism?", PSA: Proceedings of the Biennial Meeting, 1994(1): 173-180.

---, 2005, "A Critique of Localised Realism", Philosophy of Science, 72(5): 1350-1360. doi:10.1086/508973

Eronen, Markus I., 2015, "Robustness and Reality", Synthese, 192(12): 3961-3977. doi:10.1007/s11229-015-0801-6

Fahrbach, Ludwig, 2011, "How the Growth of Science Ends Theory Change", Synthese, 180(2): 139-155. doi:10.1007/s11229-009-9602-0

Fine, Arthur, 1986a, "Unnatural Attitudes: Realist and Antirealist Attachments to Science", Mind, 95(378): 149-177. doi:10.1093/mind/XCV.378.149

---, [1986b] 1996, The Shaky Game: Einstein, Realism and The Quantum Theory, 2nd edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

---, 1991, "Piecemeal Realism", Philosophical Studies, 61(1): 79-96. doi:10.1007/BF00385834

---, 1993, "Fictionalism", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 18: 1-18.

Forbes, Curtis, forthcoming, "A Pragmatic, Existentialist Approach to the Scientific Realism Debate", Synthese, first online: 12 February 2016. doi:10.1007/s11229-016-1015-2.

Franklin, Allan, 1986, The Neglect of Experiment, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1990, Experiment, Right or Wrong, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

French, Steven, 1998, "On the Withering Away of Physical Objects", in E. Castellani (ed.), Interpreting Bodies: Classical and Quantum Objects in Modern Physics, Princeton: Princeton University Press, pp. 93-113.

---, 2006, "Structure as a Weapon of the Realist", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 106(1): 170-187. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9264.2006.00143.x

---, 2014, The Structure of the World: Metaphysics and Representation. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

French, Steven and H. Kamminga (eds.), 1993, Correspondence, Invariance and Heuristics, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Friedman, Michael, 1999, Reconsidering Logical Positivism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Frigg, Roman and Ioannis Votsis, 2011, "Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Structural Realism but were Afraid to Ask", European Journal for Philosophy of Science, 1(2): 227-276. doi:10.1007/s13194-011-0025-7

Frost-Arnold, Greg, 2010, "The No-Miracles Argument for Realism: Inference to an Unacceptable Explanation", Philosophy of Science, 77(1): 35-58. doi:10.1086/650207

Giere, Ronald N., 1988, Explaining Science: A Cognitive Approach, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Giere, Ronald N. and Alan W. Richardson, 1997, Origins of Logical Empiricism (Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, vol. 16), Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Godfrey-Smith, Peter, 2008, "Recurrent Transient Underdetermination and the Glass Half Full", Philosophical Studies, 137(1): 141-148. doi:10.1007/s11098-007-9172-2

Hacking, Ian, 1982, "Experimentation and Scientific Realism", Philosophical Topics, 13(1): 71-87. doi:10.5840/philtopics19821314

---, 1983, Representing and Intervening, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1985, "Do We See Through a Microscope?", in Churchland & Hooker 1985: 132-152.

Haraway, Donna, 1988, "Situated Knowledges", Feminist Studies, 14(3): 575-600. doi:10.2307/3178066

Hardin, Clyde L. and Alexander Rosenberg, 1982, "In Defence of Convergent Realism", Philosophy of Science, 49(4): 604-615. doi:10.1086/289080

Harding, Sandra, 1986, The Science Question in Feminism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Harker, David, 2008, "On the Predilections for Predictions", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 59(3): 429-453. doi:10.1093/bjps/axn017

---, 2010, "Two Arguments for Scientific Realism Unified", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 41: 192-202.

---, 2013, "How to Split a Theory: Defending Selective Realism and Convergence without Proximity", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 64(1): 79-106. doi:10.1093/bjps/axr059

Harman, Gilbert H., 1965, "The Inference to the Best Explanation",Philosophical Review, 74(1): 88-95. doi:10.2307/2183532

Hitchcock, Christopher and Elliott Sober, 2004, "Prediction versus Accommodation and the Risk of Overfitting", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 55(1): 1-34. doi:10.1093/bjps/55.1.1

Horwich, Paul (ed.), 1993, World Changes: Thomas Kuhn and the Nature of Science, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Hoyningen-Huene, Paul, 1993, Reconstructing Scientific Revolutions: The Philosophy of Science of Thomas S. Kuhn, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Howson, Colin, 2000, Hume's Problem: Induction and the Justification of Belief, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0198250371.001.0001

Humphreys, Paul, 2004, Extending Ourselves: Computational Science, Empiricism, and Scientific Method, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195158709.001.0001

James, William, [1907] 1979, Pragmatism, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Jones, Roger, 1991, "Realism About What?", Philosophy of Science, 58(2): 185-202. doi:10.1086/289611

Keller, Evelyn Fox, 1985, Reflections on Gender and Science, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Khalifa, Kareem, 2010, "Default Privilege and Bad Lots: Underconsideration and Explanatory Inference", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 24(1): 91-105. doi:10.1080/02698590903467135

Kitcher, Philip, 1993, The Advancement of Science: Science Without Legend, Objectivity without Illusions, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2001, "Real Realism: The Galilean Strategy", The Philosophical Review, 110(2): 151-197. doi:10.2307/2693674

Kochan, Jeff, 2010, "Contrastive Explanation and the 'Strong Programme' in the Sociology of Scientific Knowledge", Social Studies of Science, 40(1): 127-144. doi:10.1177/0306312709104780

Knorr-Cetina, Karin D., 1981, The Manufacture of Knowledge, Oxford: Pergamon.

Kourany, Janet A., 2010, Philosophy of Science after Feminism. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kripke, Saul A., 1980, Naming and Necessity, Oxford: Blackwell.

Kuhn, Thomas S., [1962] 1970, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

---, 1983, "Commensurability, Comparability, Communicability", PSA: Proceedings of the Biennial Meeting, 1982(2): 669-688.

---, 2000, The Road Since Structure, J. Conant & J. Haugeland (eds.), Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Kukla, Andre, 1998, Studies in Scientific Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kusch, Martin, 2002, Knowledge by Agreement: the Programme of Communitarian Epistemology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199251223.001.0001

Ladyman, James, 1998, "What is Structural Realism?", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 29: 409-424.

Ladyman, James, Igor Douven, Leon Horsten, and Bas C. van Fraassen, 1997, "A Defence of van Fraassen's Critique of Abductive Inference: Reply to Psillos", Philosophical Quarterly, 47(188): 305-321.

Ladyman, James and Don Ross, 2007, Every Thing Must Go: Metaphysics Naturalized, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199276196.001.0001

Landig, Anders, 2014, "Partial Reference, Scientific Realism and Possible Worlds", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 47: 1-9.

Lange, Marc, 2002, "Baseball, Pessimistic Inductions and the Turnover Fallacy", Analysis, 62(276): 281-285. doi:10.1111/1467-8284.00368

Latour, Bruno and Steve Woolgar, [1979] 1986, Laboratory Life: The Construction of Scientific Facts, (2nd ed.), Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Laudan, Larry, 1981, "A Confutation of Convergent Realism", Philosophy of Science, 48: 19-48.

---, 1984, "Discussion: Realism Without the Real", Philosophy of Science, 51(1): 156-162. doi:10.1086/289171

---, 1990, "Demystifying Underdetermination", in Savage 1990: 267-297.

Laudan, Larry and Jarrett Leplin, 1991, "Empirical Equivalence and Underdetermination", Journal of Philosophy, 88(9): 449-472. doi:10.2307/2026601

Leeds, Stephen, 2007, "Correspondence Truth and Scientific Realism", Synthese, 159(1): 1-21. doi:10.1007/s11229-006-9064-6

Leplin, Jarrett, 1981, "Truth and Scientific Progress", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 12: 269-292.

---, 1997, A Novel Defence of Scientific Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lewens, Tim, 2005, "Realism and the Strong Program", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 56(3): 559-577. doi:10.1093/bjps/axi125

Lewis, Peter J., 2001, "Why the Pessimistic Induction is a Fallacy", Synthese, 129(3): 371-380. doi:10.1023/A:1013139410613

Lipton, Peter, 1990, "Prediction and Prejudice", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 4(1): 51-65. doi:10.1080/02698599008573345

---, [1991] 2004, Inference to the Best Explanation, 2nd edition. London: Routledge.

---, 1993, "Is the Best Good Enough?", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 93: 89-104.

---, 1994, "Truth, Existence, and the Best Explanation", in A. A. Derksen (ed.), The Scientific Realism of Rom Harré, Tilburg: Tilburg University Press, pp. 89-111.

Lloyd, Elisabeth A., 2006, The Case of the Female Orgasm: Bias in the Science of Evolution. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Longino, Helen, 1990, Science as Social Knowledge: Values and Objectivity in Scientific Inquiry, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

---, 2002, The Fate of Knowledge, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Lyons, Timothy D., 2003, "Explaining the Success of a Scientific Theory", Philosophy of Science, 70(5): 891-901. doi:10.1086/377375

---, 2005, "Towards a Purely Axiological Scientific Realism", Erkenntnis, 63(2): 167-204. doi:10.1007/s10670-005-3225-8

---, 2006, "Scientific Realism and the Stratagema de Divide et Impera", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 57(3): 537-560. doi:10.1093/bjps/axl021

---, 2013, "A Historically Informed Modus Ponens Against Scientific Realism: Articulation, Critique, and Restoration",International Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 27: 369-392.

Magnus, P.D., 2010, "Inductions, Red Herrings, and the Best Explanation for the Mixed Record of Science", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 61(4): 803-819. doi:10.1093/bjps/axq004

Magnus, P.D. and Jacob Busch (eds.), 2010, New Waves in Philosophy of Science. London: Palgrave Macmillan.

Magnus, P.D. and Craig Callender, 2004, "Realist Ennui and the Base Rate Fallacy", Philosophy of Science, 71(3): 320-338. doi:10.1086/421536

Massimi, Michela, 2004, "Non-Defensible Middle Ground for Experimental Realism: Why We are Justified to Believe in Colored Quarks", Philosophy of Science, 71(1): 36-60. doi:10.1086/381412

Maxwell, Grover, 1962, "On the Ontological Status of Theoretical Entities", in H. Feigl & G. Maxwell (eds.), Scientific Explanation, Space, and Time, (Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, vol. 3), Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, pp. 3-26.

McAllister, James W., 1993, "Scientific Realism and the Criteria for Theory-Choice", Erkenntnis, 38(2): 203-222. doi:10.1007/BF01128980

Mcarthur, Dan, 2006, "The Anti-Philosophical Stance, the Realism Question and Scientific Practice", Foundations of Science, 11(4): 369-397. doi:10.1007/s10699-005-3198-8

McLeish, Christina, 2005, "Realism Bit by Bit: Part I: Kitcher on Reference", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 36: 667-685.

---, 2006, "Realism Bit by Bit: Part 2: Disjunctive Partial Reference", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 37: 171-190.

Menke, Cornelia, 2014, "Does the Miracle Argument Embody a Base Rate Fallacy?", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 45: 103-108.

Miller, Boaz, 2016, "What is Hacking's Argument for Entity Realism?", Synthese, 193(3): 991-1006. doi:10.1007/s11229-015-0789-y

Miller, David, 1974, "Popper's Qualitative Theory of Verisimilitude", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 25(2): 166-177. doi:10.1093/bjps/25.2.166

---, 1976, "Verisimilitude Redeflated", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 27(4): 363-380. doi:10.1093/bjps/27.4.363

Miller, Richard W., 1987, Fact and Method: Explanation, Confirmation and Reality in the Natural and the Social Sciences, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Misak, Cheryl, 2010, "The Pragmatic Maxim: How to Get Leverage on a Concept", The Harvard Review of Philosophy, 17: 76-87. [Misak 2010 available online]

Mizrahi, Moti, 2015, "Historical Inductions: New Cherries, Same Old Cherry-picking", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 29(2): 129-148. doi:10.1080/02698595.2015.1119413

Monton, Bradley (ed.), 2007, Images of Empiricism: Essays on Science and Stances, with a Reply From Bas C. Van Fraassen. Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199218844.001.0001

Morganti, Matteo, 2004, "On the Preferability of Epistemic Structural Realism", Synthese, 142(1): 81-107. doi:10.1023/B:SYNT.0000047712.39407.c3

Morrison, Margaret, 1990, "Theory, Intervention and Realism", Synthese, 82(1): 1-22. doi:10.1007/BF00413667

Muller, F.A., 2004, "Can a Constructive Empiricist Adopt the Concept of Observability?", Philosophy of Science, 71(4): 637-654. doi:10.1093/phisci/axi103

---, 2005, "The Deep Black Sea: Observability and Modality Afloat", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 56(1): 61-99.

Musgrave, Alan, 1985, "Constructive Empiricism and Realism", in Churchland & Hooker 1985: 197-221.

---, 1988, "The Ultimate Argument for Scientific Realism", in Robert Nola (ed.), Relativism and Realism in Sciences, Dordrecht: Kluwer, pp. 229-252.

---, 1989, "Noa's Ark-Fine for Realism", Philosophical Quarterly, 39(157): 383-398. doi:10.2307/2219825

---, 1992, "Discussion: Realism About What?", Philosophy of Science, 59(4): 691-697. doi:10.1086/289702

Nelson, Lynn Harkinson and Jack Nelson (eds.), 1996, Feminism, Science, and the Philosophy of Science, Dordrecht: Kluwer.

Niiniluoto, Ilkka, 1987, Truthlikeness, Dordrecht: Reidel.

---, 1998, "Verisimilitude: The Third Period", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 49(1): 1-29. doi:10.1093/bjps/49.1.1

---, 1999, Critical Scientific Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Nola, Robert, 2008, "The Optimistic Meta-Induction and Ontological Continuity: The Case of the Electron", in L. Soler, H. Sankey, & P. Hoyningen-Huene (eds.), Rethinking Scientific Change and Theory Comparison: Stabilities, Ruptures, Incommensurabilities?, Dordrecht: Springer, pp. 159-202. doi:10.1007/978-1-4020-6279-7_12

Northcott, Robert, 2013, "Verisimilitude: A Causal Approach", Synthese, 190(9): 1471-1488. doi:10.1007/s11229-011-9895-7

Oddie, Graham, 1986a, "The Poverty of the Popperian Program for Truthlikeness", Philosophy of Science, 53(2): 163-178. doi:10.1086/289305

---, 1986b, Likeness to Truth, Dordrecht: Reidel.

Okasha, Samir, 2002, "Underdetermination, Holism and the Theory/Data Distinction", Philosophical Quarterly, 52(208): 302-319.

Papineau, David, 2010, "Realism, Ramsey Sentences and the Pessimistic Meta-Induction", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 41: 375-385.

Park, Seungbae, 2016, "Extensional Scientific Realism vs. Intensional Scientific Realism", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 59: 46-52.

Peirce, Charles S., [1992] 1998, The Essential Peirce, 2 volumes (volume 1 edited by N. Houser & C. Kloesel; volume 2 edited by the Peirce Edition Project), Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Peters, Dean, 2014, "What Elements of Successful Scientific Theories Are the Correct Targets for 'Selective' Scientific Realism?", Philosophy of Science, 81(3): 377-397. doi:10.1086/676537

Pickering, Andrew, 1984, Constructing Quarks: A Sociological History of Particle Physics, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Poincaré, Henri, [1905] 1952, Science and Hypothesis, New York: Dover.

Popper, Karl R., 1972, Conjectures and Refutations: The Growth of Knowledge, 4th edition, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Post, H.R., 1971, "Correspondence, Invariance and Heuristics: In Praise of Conservative Induction", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 2: 213-255.

Psillos, Stathis, 1995, "Is Structural Realism the Best of Both Worlds?", Dialectica, 49(1): 15-46. doi:10.1111/j.1746-8361.1995.tb00113.x

---, 1996, "On van Fraassen's Critique of Abductive Reasoning", Philosophical Quarterly, 46(182): 31-47. doi:10.2307/2956303

---, 1999, Scientific Realism: How Science Tracks Truth, London: Routledge.

---, 2001, "Is Structural Realism Possible?", Philosophy of Science, 68(S3): S13-S24. doi:10.1086/392894

---, 2006, "The, Structure, theWhole, Structure and Nothing But, the Structure?",Philosophy of Science, 73(5): 560-570. doi:10.1086/518326

---, 2009, Knowing the Structure of Nature: Essays on Realism and Explanation, London: Palgrave Macmillan.

Putnam, Hilary, 1975a, Mathematics, Matter and Method, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, [1975b] 1985, Philosophical Papers, vol. 2: Mind, Language and Reality, Cambridge University Press.

---, 1978, Meaning and the Moral Sciences, London: Routledge.

---, 1981, Reason, Truth and History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 1982, "Three Kinds of Scientific Realism", Philosophical Quarterly, 32(128): 195-200. doi:10.2307/2219323

Quine, W.V.O, 1953, "Two Dogmas of Empiricism", in From a Logical Point of View, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, pp. 20-46.

---, 1975, "On Empirically Equivalent Systems of the World", Erkenntnis, 9(3): 313-328. doi:10.1007/BF00178004

Resnik, David B., 1994, "Hacking's Experimental Realism", Canadian Journal of Philosophy, 24(3): 395-412. doi:10.1080/00455091.1994.10717376

Richardson, Alan W., 1998, Carnap's Construction of the World, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Richardson, Alan W. and Thomas Uebel (eds.), 2007, The Cambridge Companion to Logical Empiricism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Rosen, Gideon, 1994, "What is Constructive Empiricism?", Philosophical Studies, 74(2): 143-178. doi:10.1007/BF00989801

Rouse, Joseph, 1988, "Arguing for the Natural Ontological Attitude", PSA: Proceedings of the Biennial Meeting, 1988(1): 294-301.

---, 1991, "The Politics of Postmodern Philosophy of Science", Philosophy of Science, 58(4): 607-627. doi:10.1086/289643

Roush, Sherri, 2010, "Optimism about the Pessimistic Induction", in Magnus & Busch 2010: 29-58.

---, 2015, "The Rationality of Science in Relation to its History", in W. J. Devlin & A. Bokulich (eds.), Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions-50 Years On, (Boston Studies in the Philosophy and History of Science), Dordrecht: Springer, pp. 71-90.

Rowbottom, Darrell P., 2011, "The Instrumentalist's New Clothes", Philosophy of Science, 78(5): 1200-1211. doi:10.1086/662267

---, 2014, "Aimless Science", Synthese, 191(6): 1211-1221. doi:10.1007/s11229-013-0319-8

Saatsi, Juha T., 2005a, "Reconsidering the Fresnel-Maxwell Theory Shift: How the Realist Can Have Her Cake and EAT it Too", Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 36: 509-538.

---, 2005b, "On the Pessimistic Induction and Two Fallacies", Philosophy of Science, 72(5): 1088-1098. doi:10.1086/508959

---, 2010, "Form-driven vs. Content-driven Arguments for Realism", in Magnus & Busch 2010: 8-28.

Salmon, Wesley C., 1984, Scientific Explanation and the Causal Structure of the World, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Sankey, Howard, 1994, The Incommensurability Thesis, London: Ashgate.

Savage, C. Wade (ed.), 1990, Scientific Theories (Minnesota Studies in the Philosophy of Science, vol. 14), Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Shapere, Dudley, 1982, "The Concept of Observation in Science and Philosophy", Philosophy of Science, 49(4): 485-525. doi:10.1086/289075

Shapin, Steven and Simon Schaffer, 1985, Leviathan and the Air Pump, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Smart, J.J.C., 1963, Philosophy and Scientific Realism, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Smith, Peter, 1998, "Approximate Truth and Dynamical Theories", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 49(2): 253-277. doi:10.1093/bjps/49.2.253

Sober, Elliott, 2015, "Two Cornell Realisms: Moral and Scientific", Philosophical Studies, 172(4): 905-924. doi:10.1007/s11098-014-0300-5

Stanford, P. Kyle, 2001, "Refusing the Devil's Bargain: What Kind of Underdetermination Should We Take Seriously?", Philosophy of Science, 68(S3): S1-S12. doi:10.1086/392893

---, 2003a, "Pyrrhic Victories for Scientific Realism", Journal of Philosophy, 100(11): 553-572.

---, 2003b, "No Refuge for Realism: Selective Confirmation and the History of Science" , Philosophy of Science, 70(5): 913-925. doi:10.1086/377377

---, 2006, Exceeding Our Grasp: Science, History, and the Problem of Unconceived Alternatives, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2015, "Catastrophism, Uniformitarianism, and a Scientific Realism Debate that Makes a Difference", Philosophy of Science, 82(5): 867-878. doi:10.1086/683325

Tichý, Pavel, 1974, "On Popper's Definitions of Verisimilitude", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 25(2): 155-160. doi:10.1093/bjps/25.2.155

---, 1976, "Verisimilitude Redefined", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 27(1): 25-42. doi:10.1093/bjps/27.1.25

---, 1978, "Verisimilitude Revisited", Synthese, 38(2): 175-196. doi:10.1007/BF00486149

Turner, Derek, 2007, Making Prehistory: Historical Science and the Scientific Realism Debate. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Vaihinger, Hans, [1911] 1923, The Philosophy of "As If", C.K. Ogden (tr.), London: Kegan Paul.

van Dyck, Maarten, 2007, "Constructive Empiricism and the Argument from Underdetermination", in Monton 2007: 11-31. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199218844.003.0002

van Fraassen, Bas C., 1980, The Scientific Image, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1985, "Empiricism in the Philosophy of Science", in Churchland & Hooker 1985: 245-308.

---, 1989, Laws and Symmetry, Oxford: Clarendon.

---, 1994, "Gideon Rosen on Constructive Empiricism", Philosophical Studies, 74(2): 179-192. doi:10.1007/BF00989802

---, 2001, "Constructive Empiricism Now", Philosophical Studies, 106(1): 151-170. doi:10.1023/A:1013126824473

Vickers, Peter, 2013, "A Confrontation of Convergent Realism", Philosophy of Science, 80(2): 189-211. doi:10.1086/670297

Votsis, Ioannis, 2003, "Is Structure Not Enough?", Philosophy of Science, 70(5): 879-890. doi:10.1086/377374

---, 2011, "The Prospective Stance in Realism", Philosophy of Science, 78(5): 1223-1234. doi:10.1086/662535

Weber, Marcell, 2014, "Reference, Truth, and Biological Kinds", in J. Dutant, D. Fassio & A. Meylan (eds.) Liber Amicorum Pascal Engel, Geneva: Université de Genève, pp. 422-448.

Weston, Thomas, 1992, "Approximate Truth and Scientific Realism", Philosophy of Science, 59(1): 53-74. doi:10.1086/289654

White, Roger, 2003, "The Epistemic Advantage of Prediction Over Accommodation", Mind, 112(448): 654-683. doi:10.1093/mind/112.448.653

Worrall, John, 1989, "Structural Realism: The Best of Both Worlds?", Dialectica, 43(1-2): 99-124. doi:10.1111/j.1746-8361.1989.tb00933.x

---, 2011, "Underdetermination, Realism and Empirical Equivalence", Synthese, 180(2): 157-172. doi:10.1007/s11229-009-9599-4

Wray, K. Brad, 2007, "A Selectionist Explanation of the Success and Failures of Science", Erkenntnis, 67(1): 81-89. doi:10.1007/s10670-007-9046-1

---, 2008, "The Argument from Underconsideration as Grounds for Anti-Realism: A Defence", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 22(3): 317-326. doi:10.1080/02698590802567399

---, 2010, "Selection and Predictive Success", Erkenntnis, 72(3): 365-377. doi:10.1007/s10670-009-9206-6

---, 2015, "Pessimistic Inductions: Four Varieties", International Studies in the Philosophy of Science, 29(1): 61-73. doi:10.1080/02698595.2015.1071551

Wylie, Alison, 1986, "Arguments for Scientific Realism: The Ascending Spiral", American Philosophical Quarterly, 23(3): 287-298.

Zammito, John H., 2004, A Nice Derangement of Epistemes: Post-Positivism in the Study of Science from Quine to Latour, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Other Internet Resources

Boyd, Richard, "Scientific Realism", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2010 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2010/entries/scientific-realism/>. [This was the previous entry on scientific realism in theStanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy - see theversion history.]

Worrall, John, "Miracles, Pessimism, and Scientific Realism, unpublished manuscript.

Acknowledgments

For helpful comments on the whole or parts of this article, I am grateful to Matthew J. Brown, Jacob Busch, Arthur Fine, Gregory Frost-Arnold, David Harker, Christopher Hitchcock, Kareem Khalifa, Timothy D. Lyons, Ilkka Niiniluoto, Elliott Sober, Bas C. van Fraassen, and K. Brad Wray. For special assistance, many thanks are due to Jamee Elder, Alex Koo, and Dean Peters.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Debates about scientific realism are closely connected to almost everything else in the philosophy of science, for they concern the very nature of scientific knowledge. Scientific realism is a positive epistemic attitude toward the content of our best theories and models, recommending belief in both observable and unobservable aspects of the world described by the sciences.

# data[].attributes.headline
6.9 Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8

# data[].attributes.subject
6.9 Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses how the advancements in Western science during the early 1900s led Karl Popper to come up with a critical distinction between science and pseudoscience, emphasising that science seeks to disprove while pseudoscience seeks to confirm, reflecting on how these ideas fundamentally influence our approach to knowledge acquisition.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Karl Popper, Science, & Pseudoscience: Crash Course Philosophy #8

# data[].attributes.headline
6.10 The Scientific Revolution: Crash Course History of Science #12

# data[].attributes.subject
6.10 The Scientific Revolution: Crash Course History of Science #12

# data[].attributes.body
This video explains how science undergoes world-changing revolutions from time to time.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Scientific Revolution: Crash Course History of Science #12

# data[].attributes.headline
7.2 The Question Concerning Technology (& Social Media) - Heidegger

# data[].attributes.subject
7.2 The Question Concerning Technology (& Social Media) - Heidegger

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores Martin Heidegger's essay, "The Question Concerning Technology," and uses it to analyse and critique social media.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Question Concerning Technology (& Social Media) - Heidegger

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the philosophy of technology, addressing how technology profoundly intertwines with society and culture, its historical development from a humanities perspective, and the analytical philosophy that aims to understand technology itself, including the practice of designing and creating artifacts as well as their societal and ethical impacts​.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Historical Developments

1.1 The Greeks

Philosophical reflection on technology is about as old as philosophy itself. Our oldest testimony is from ancient Greece. There are four prominent themes. One early theme is the thesis that technology learns from or imitates nature (Plato, Laws X 899a ff.). According to Democritus, for example, house-building and weaving were first invented by imitating swallows and spiders building their nests and nets, respectively (Diels 1903 and Freeman 1948: 154). Perhaps the oldest extant source for the exemplary role of nature is Heraclitus (Diels 1903 and Freeman 1948: 112). Aristotle referred to this tradition by repeating Democritus' examples, but he did not maintain that technology can only imitate nature: "generally technè in some cases completes what nature cannot bring to a finish, and in others imitates nature" ( Physics II.8, 199a15; see also Physics II.2, and see Schummer 2001 and this encyclopedia's entry on for discussion).

A second theme is the thesis that there is a fundamental ontological distinction between natural things and artifacts. According to Aristotle ( Physics II.1), the former have their principles of generation and motion inside, whereas the latter, insofar as they are artifacts, are generated only by outward causes, namely human aims and forms in the human soul. Natural products (animals and their parts, plants, and the four elements) move, grow, change, and reproduce themselves by inner final causes; they are driven by purposes of nature. Artifacts, on the other hand, cannot reproduce themselves. Without human care and intervention, they vanish after some time by losing their artificial forms and decomposing into (natural) materials. For instance, if a wooden bed is buried, it decomposes to earth or changes back into its botanical nature by putting forth a shoot.

The thesis that there is a fundamental difference between man-made products and natural substances has had a long-lasting influence. In the Middle Ages, Avicenna criticized alchemy on the ground that it can never produce 'genuine' substances (Briffault 1930: 147). Even today, some still maintain that there is a difference between, for example, natural and synthetic vitamin C. The modern discussion of this theme is taken up in Section 2.5.

Aristotle's doctrine of the four causes-material, formal, efficient and final-can be regarded as a third early contribution to the philosophy of technology. Aristotle explained this doctrine by referring to technical artifacts such as houses and statues ( Physics II.3). The four causes are still very much present in modern discussions related to the metaphysics of artifacts. Discussions of the notion of function, for example, focus on its inherent teleological or 'final' character and the difficulties this presents to its use in biology. And the notorious case of the ship of Theseus-see this encyclopedia's entries on material constitution, identity over time, relative identity, and sortals -was introduced in modern philosophy by Hobbes as showing a conflict between unity of matter and unity of form as principles of individuation. This conflict is seen by many as characteristic of artifacts. David Wiggins (1980: 89) takes it even to be the defining characteristic of artifacts.

A fourth point that deserves mentioning is the extensive employment of technological images by Plato and Aristotle. In his Timaeus, Plato described the world as the work of an Artisan, the Demiurge. His account of the details of creation is full of images drawn from carpentry, weaving, ceramics, metallurgy, and agricultural technology. Aristotle used comparisons drawn from the arts and crafts to illustrate how final causes are at work in natural processes. Despite their negative appreciation of the life led by artisans, who they considered too much occupied by the concerns of their profession and the need to earn a living to qualify as free individuals, both Plato and Aristotle found technological imagery indispensable for expressing their belief in the rational design of the universe (Lloyd 1973: 61).

1.2 Later Developments; Humanities Philosophy of Technology

Although there was much technological progress in the Roman empire and during the Middle Ages, philosophical reflection on technology did not grow at a corresponding rate. Comprehensive works such as Vitruvius' De architectura (first century BC) and Agricola's De re metallica (1556) paid much attention to practical aspects of technology but little to philosophy.

In the realm of scholastic philosophy, there was an emergent appreciation for the mechanical arts. They were generally considered to be born of-and limited to-the mimicry of nature. This view was challenged when alchemy was introduced in the Latin West around the mid-twelfth century. Some alchemical writers such as Roger Bacon were willing to argue that human art, even if learned by imitating natural processes, could successfully reproduce natural products or even surpass them (Newman 2004). The result was a philosophy of technology in which human art was raised to a level of appreciation not found in other writings until the Renaissance. However, the last three decades of the thirteenth century witnessed an increasingly hostile attitude by religious authorities toward alchemy that culminated eventually in the denunciation Contra alchymistas, written by the inquisitor Nicholas Eymeric in 1396 (Newman 2004).

The Renaissance led to a greater appreciation of human beings and their creative efforts, including technology. As a result, philosophical reflection on technology and its impact on society increased. Francis Bacon is generally regarded as the first modern author to put forward such reflection. His view, expressed in his fantasy New Atlantis (1627), was overwhelmingly positive. This positive attitude lasted well into the nineteenth century, incorporating the first half-century of the industrial revolution. Karl Marx, for example, did not condemn the steam engine or the spinning mill for the vices of the bourgeois mode of production; he believed that ongoing technological innovation allowed for the necessary steps toward the more blissful stages of socialism and communism of the future. A discussion of different views on the role of technology in Marx's theory of historical development can be found in Bimber 1990. See Van der Pot 1985 [1994/2004] for an extensive historical overview of appreciations of the development of technology generally.

A turning point in the appreciation of technology as a socio-cultural phenomenon is marked by Samuel Butler's Erewhon (1872), written under the influence of the Industrial Revolution, and Darwin's On the Origin of Species (1859). Butler's book gave an account of a fictional country where all machines are banned and the possession of a machine or the attempt to build one is a capital crime. The people of this country had become convinced by an argument that ongoing technical improvements are likely to lead to a 'race' of machines that will replace mankind as the dominant species on earth. This introduced a theme that has remained influential in the perception of technology ever since.

During the last quarter of the nineteenth century and most of the twentieth century a critical attitude predominated in philosophical reflection on technology. The representatives of this attitude were, overwhelmingly, schooled in the humanities or the social sciences and had virtually no first-hand knowledge of engineering practice. Whereas Bacon wrote extensively on the method of science and conducted physical experiments himself, Butler, being a clergyman, lacked such first-hand knowledge. Ernst Kapp, who was the first to use the term 'philosophy of technology' in his book Eine Philosophie der Technik (1877 [2018]), was a philologist and historian. Most of the authors who wrote critically about technology and its socio-cultural role during the twentieth century were philosophers of a general outlook, such as Martin Heidegger (1954 [1977]), Hans Jonas (1979 [1984]), Arnold Gehlen (1957 [1980]), Günther Anders (1956), and Andrew Feenberg (1999). Others had a background in one of the other humanities or in social science, such as literary criticism and social research in the case of Lewis Mumford (1934), law in the case of Jacques Ellul (1954 [1964]), political science in the case of Langdon Winner (1977, 1980, 1983) and literary studies in the case of Albert Borgmann (1984). The form of philosophy of technology constituted by the writings of these and others has been called by Carl Mitcham (1994) "humanities philosophy of technology", because it takes its point of departure from the humanities and the social sciences rather than from the practices of science and engineering, and it approaches technology accepting "the primacy of the humanities over technologies" (1994: 39), since technology originates from the goals and values of humans.

Humanities philosophers of technology tend to take the phenomenon of technology itself largely for granted; they treat it as a 'black box', a given, a unitary, monolithic, inescapable phenomenon. Their interest is not so much to analyze and understand this phenomenon itself but to grasp its relations to morality (Jonas, Gehlen), politics (Winner), the structure of society (Mumford), human culture (Ellul), the human condition (Hannah Arendt), or metaphysics (Heidegger). In this, these philosophers are almost all openly critical of technology: all things considered, they tend to have a negative judgment of the way technology has affected human society and culture, or at least they single out for consideration the negative effects of technology on human society and culture. This does not necessarily mean that technology itself is pointed out as the principal cause of these negative developments. In the case of Heidegger, in particular, the paramount position of technology in modern society is rather a symptom of something more fundamental, namely a wrongheaded attitude towards Being which has been on the rise for almost 25 centuries. It is therefore questionable whether Heidegger should be considered as a philosopher of technology, although within the humanities view he is considered to be among the most important ones. Much the same could be said about Arendt, in particular her discussion of technology in The Human Condition (1958), although her position in the canon of humanities philosophy of technology is not as prominent as is Heidegger's.

To be sure, the work of these founding figures of humanities philosophy of technology has been taken further by a second and third generation of scholars-in particular the work of Heidegger remains an important source of inspiration-but who in doing so have adopted a more neutral rather than overall negative view of technology and its meaning for human life and culture. Notable examples are Ihde (1979, 1993) and Verbeek (2000 [2005]).

In its development, humanities philosophy of technology continues to be influenced not so much by developments in philosophy (e.g., philosophy of science, philosophy of action, philosophy of mind) but by developments in the social sciences and humanities. Although, for example, Ihde and those who take their point of departure with him, position their work as phenomenologist or postphenomenologist, there does not seem to be much interest in either the past or the present of this diffuse notion in philosophy, and in particular not much interest in the far from easy question to what extent Heidegger can be considered a phenomenologist. Of particular significance has been the emergence of 'Science and Technology Studies' (STS) in the 1980s, which studies from a broad social-scientific perspective how social, political, and cultural values affect scientific research and technological innovation, and how these in turn affect society, politics, and culture. We discuss authors from humanities philosophy of technology in Section 3 on 'Ethical and Social Aspects of Technology', but do not present separately and in detail the wide variety of views existing in this field. For a detailed treatment Mitcham's 1994 book still provides an excellent overview. A recent coverage of humanities philosophy of technology is available in Coeckelbergh's (2020a) textbook. Olsen, Selinger and Riis (2008) and Vallor (2022) offer wide-ranging collections of contributions; Scharff and Dusek (2003 [2014]) and Kaplan (2004 [2009]) present comprehensive anthologies of texts from this tradition.

1.3 A Basic Ambiguity in the Meaning of Technology

Mitcham contrasts 'humanities philosophy of technology' to 'engineering philosophy of technology', where the latter refers to philosophical views developed by engineers or technologists as "attempts ... to elaborate a technological philosophy" (1994: 17). Mitcham discusses only a handful of people as engineering philosophers of technology: Ernst Kapp, Peter Engelmeier, Friedrich Dessauer, and much more briefly Jacques Lafitte, Gilbert Simondon, Hendrik van Riessen, Juan David García Bacca, R. Buckminster Fuller and Mario Bunge. The label 'engineering philosophy of technology' raises serious questions: many of the persons discussed hardly classify as engineers or technologists. It is also not very clear how the notion of 'a technological philosophy' should be understood. As philosophers, these authors seem all to be rather isolated figures, whose work shows little overlap and who seem to be sharing mainly the absence of a 'working relation' with established philosophical disciplines. It is not so clear what sorts of questions and concerns underlie the notion of 'engineering philosophy of technology'. A larger role for systematic philosophy could bring it quite close to some examples of humanities philosophy of technology, for instance the work of Jacques Ellul, where the analyses would be rather similar and the remaining differences would be ones of attitude or appreciation.

In the next section we discuss in more detail a form of philosophy of technology that we consider to occupy, currently, the position of alternative to the humanities philosophy of technology. It emerged in the 1960s and gained momentum in the past twenty to twenty-five years. This form of the philosophy of technology, which may be called 'analytic', is not primarily concerned with the relations between technology and society but with technology itself. It expressly does not look upon technology as a 'black box' but as a phenomenon that should be studied in detail. It does not regard technology as such as a practice but as something grounded in a practice, basically the practice of engineering. It analyses this practice, its goals, its concepts and its methods, and it relates its findings to various themes from philosophy.

In seeing technology as grounded in a practice sustained by engineers, similar to the way philosophy of science focuses on the practice of science as sustained by scientists, analytic philosophy of technology could be thought to amount to the philosophy of engineering. Indeed many of the issues related to design, discussed below in Sections 2.3 and 2.4, could be singled out as forming the subject matter of a philosophy of engineering. The metaphysical issues discussed in Section 2.5 could not, however, and analytic philosophy of technology is therefore significantly broader than philosophy of engineering. The very title of Philosophy of Technology and Engineering Sciences (Meijers 2009), an extensive up-to-date overview, which contains contributions to all of the topics treated in the next section, suggests that technology and engineering do not coincide, but the book does not specifically address what distinguishes technology from engineering and how they are related. In fact, the existence of humanities philosophy of technology and analytic philosophy of technology next to one another reflects a basic ambiguity in the notion of technology that the philosophical work that has been going on has hardly succeeded in clarifying.

Technology can be said to have two aspects or dimensions, which can be referred to as instrumentality and productivity. Instrumentality covers the totality of human endeavours to control their lives and their environments by interfering with the world in an instrumental way, by using things in a purposeful and clever way. Productivity covers the totality of human endeavours to bring into existence new things through which certain things can be realized in a controlled and clever way. For the study of the dimension of instrumentality, it is in principle irrelevant whether the things that are made use of in controlling our lives and environments have been produced by us first; if we somehow could rely on natural objects to always be available to serve our purposes, the analysis of instrumentality and its consequences for how we live our lives would not necessarily be affected. Likewise, for the analysis of what is involved in the making of artifacts, and how the notion of artifact and of something new being brought into existence are to be understood, it is to a large extent irrelevant how human life, culture and society are changed as a result of the artifacts that are in fact produced. Notwithstanding its fundamental character, the ambiguity noted here seems hardly to be confronted directly in the literature. It is addressed by Lawson (2008, 2017) and by Franssen and Koller (2016).

Humanities philosophy of technology has been interested predominantly in the instrumentality dimension, whereas analytic philosophy of technology has focused on the productivity dimension. But technology as one of the basic phenomena of modern society, if not the most basic one, clearly is constituted by the processes centering on and involving both dimensions. It has proved difficult, however, to come to an overarching approach in which the interaction between these two dimensions of technology are adequately dealt with-no doubt partly due to the great differences in philosophical orientation and methodology associated with the two traditions and their separate foci. To improve this situation is arguably the most urgent challenge that the field of philosophy of technology as a whole is facing, since the continuation of the two orientations leading their separate lives threatens its unity and coherence as a discipline in the first place. Indeed, during the past ten to fifteen years the philosophy of engineering has established itself as a subdiscipline within the philosophy of technology, for which a comprehensive handbook was edited recently by Michelfelder and Doorn (2021).

After presenting the major issues of philosophical relevance in technology and engineering that are studied by analytic philosophers of technology in the next section, we discuss the problems and challenges that technology poses for the society in which it is practiced in the third and final section.

2. Analytic Philosophy of Technology

2.1 Introduction: Science and Technology's Different Relations to Philosophy

It may come as a surprise to those new to the topic that the fields of philosophy of science and philosophy of technology show such great differences, given that few practices in our society are as closely related as science and engineering. Experimental science is nowadays crucially dependent on technology for the realization of its research set-ups and for gathering and analyzing data. The phenomena that modern science seeks to study could never be discovered without producing them through technology.

Theoretical research within technology has come to be often indistinguishable from theoretical research in science, making engineering science largely continuous with 'ordinary' or 'pure' science. This is a relatively recent development, which started around the middle of the nineteenth century, and is responsible for great differences between modern technology and traditional, craft-like techniques. The educational training that aspiring scientists and engineers receive starts off being largely identical and only gradually diverges into a science or an engineering curriculum. Ever since the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century, characterized by its two major innovations, the experimental method and the mathematical articulation of scientific theories, philosophical reflection on science has focused on the method by which scientific knowledge is generated, on the reasons for thinking scientific theories to be true, or approximately true, and on the nature of evidence and the reasons for accepting one theory and rejecting another. Hardly ever have philosophers of science posed questions that did not have the community of scientists, their concerns, their aims, their intuitions, their arguments and choices, as a major target. In contrast it is only recently that the philosophy of technology has discovered the community of engineers.

It might be claimed that it is up to the philosophy of technology, and not the philosophy of science, to target first of all the impact of technology-and with it science-on society and culture, because science affects society only through being applied as technology. This, however, will not do. Right from the start of the scientific revolution, science affected human culture and thought fundamentally and directly, not with a detour through technology, and the same is true for later developments such as relativity, atomic physics and quantum mechanics, the theory of evolution, genetics, biochemistry, and the increasingly dominating scientific world view overall. All the same philosophers of science for a long time gave the impression that they left questions addressing the normative, social and cultural aspects of science gladly to other philosophical disciplines, or to historical studies. This has changed only during the past few decades, by scholars either focusing on these issues from the start (e.g. Longino 1990, 2002) or shifting their focus toward them (e.g. Kitcher 2001, 2011).

There is a major difference between the historical development of modern technology as compared to modern science which may at least partly explain this situation, which is that science emerged in the seventeenth century from philosophy itself. The answers that Galileo, Huygens, Newton, and others gave, by which they initiated the alliance of empiricism and mathematical description that is so characteristic of modern science, were answers to questions that had belonged to the core business of philosophy since antiquity. Science, therefore, kept the attention of philosophers. Philosophy of science can be seen as a transformation of epistemology in the light of the emergence of science. The foundational issues-the reality of atoms, the status of causality and probability, questions of space and time, the nature of the quantum world-that were so lively discussed during the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century are an illustration of this close relationship between scientists and philosophers. No such intimacy has ever existed between philosophers and engineers or technologists. Their worlds still barely touch. To be sure, a case can be made that, compared to the continuity existing between natural philosophy and science, a similar continuity exists between central questions in philosophy having to do with human action and practical rationality and the way technology approaches and systematizes the solution of practical problems. To investigate this connection may indeed be considered a major theme for philosophy of technology, and more is said on it in Sections 2.3 and 2.4. This continuity appears only by hindsight, however, and dimly, as the historical development is at most a slow convening of various strands of philosophical thinking on action and rationality, not a development into variety from a single origin. Significantly it is only the academic outsider Ellul who has, in his idiosyncratic way, recognized in technology the emergent single dominant way of answering all questions concerning human action, comparable to science as the single dominant way of answering all questions concerning human knowledge (Ellul 1954 [1964]). But Ellul was not so much interested in investigating this relationship as in emphasizing and denouncing the social and cultural consequences as he saw them. It is all the more important to point out that humanities philosophy of technology cannot be differentiated from analytic philosophy of technology by claiming that only the former is interested in the social context of technology. There are studies which are rooted in analytic philosophy of science but address in particular the relation of technology to society and culture, and equally the relevance of social relations to technological practices, without taking an evaluative stand with respect to technology; an example is Preston 2012.

2.2 The Relationship Between Technology and Science

The close relationship between the practices of engineering and science may easily keep the important differences between the technology and science from view. The predominant position of science in the philosophical field of vision made it difficult for philosophers to recognize that technology merits special attention for involving issues that do not emerge in science. This view resulting from this lack of recognition is often presented, perhaps somewhat dramatically, as coming down to a claim that technology is 'merely' applied science.

A questioning of the relation between science and technology was the central issue in one of the earliest discussions among analytic philosophers of technology. In 1966, in a special issue of the journal Technology and Culture, Henryk Skolimowski argued that technology is something quite different from science (Skolimowski 1966). As he phrased it, science concerns itself with what is, whereas technology concerns itself with what is to be. A few years later, in his well-known book The Sciences of the Artificial (1969), Herbert Simon emphasized this important distinction in almost the same words, stating that the scientist is concerned with how things are but the engineer with how things ought to be. Although it is difficult to imagine that earlier philosophers were blind to this difference in orientation, their inclination, in particular in the tradition of logical empiricism, to view knowledge as a system of statements may have led to a conviction that in technology no knowledge claims play a role that cannot also be found in science. The study of technology, therefore, was not expected to pose new challenges nor hold surprises regarding the interests of analytic philosophy.

In contrast, Mario Bunge (1966) defended the view that technology is applied science, but in a subtle way that does justice to the differences between science and technology. Bunge acknowledges that technology is about action, but an action heavily underpinned by theory-that is what distinguishes technology from the arts and crafts and puts it on a par with science. According to Bunge, theories in technology come in two types: substantive theories, which provide knowledge about the object of action, and operative theories, which are concerned with action itself. The substantive theories of technology are indeed largely applications of scientific theories. The operative theories, in contrast, are not preceded by scientific theories but are born in applied research itself. Still, as Bunge claims, operative theories show a dependence on science in that in such theories the method of science is employed. This includes such features as modeling and idealization, the use of theoretical concepts and abstractions, and the modification of theories by the absorption of empirical data through prediction and retrodiction.

In response to this discussion, Ian Jarvie (1966) proposed as important questions for a philosophy of technology what the epistemological status of technological statements is and how technological statements are to be demarcated from scientific statements. This suggests a thorough investigation of the various forms of knowledge occurring in either practice, in particular, since scientific knowledge has already been so extensively studied, of the forms of knowledge that are characteristic of technology and are lacking, or of much less prominence, in science. A distinction between 'knowing that'-traditional propositional knowledge-and 'knowing how'-non-articulated and even impossible-to-articulate knowledge-had been introduced by Gilbert Ryle (1949) in a different context. The notion of 'knowing how' was taken up by Michael Polanyi under the name of tacit knowledge and made a central characteristic of technology (Polanyi 1958); the current state of the philosophical discussion is presented in this encyclopedia's entry on knowledge how. However, emphasizing too much the role of unarticulated knowledge, of 'rules of thumb' as they are often called, easily underplays the importance of rational methods in technology. An emphasis on tacit knowledge may also be ill-fit for distinguishing the practices of science and engineering because the role of tacit knowledge in science may well be more important than current philosophy of science acknowledges, for example in concluding causal relationships on the basis of empirical evidence. This was also an important theme in the writings of Thomas Kuhn on theory change in science (Kuhn 1962).

2.3 The Centrality of Design to Technology

To claim, with Skolimowski and Simon, that technology is about what is to be or what ought to be rather than what is may serve to distinguish it from science but will hardly make it understandable why so much philosophical reflection on technology has taken the form of socio-cultural critique. Technology is an ongoing attempt to bring the world closer to the way one wishes it to be. Whereas science aims to understand the world as it is, technology aims to change the world. These are abstractions, of course. For one, whose wishes concerning what the world should be like are realized in technology? Unlike scientists, who are often personally motivated in their attempts at describing and understanding the world, engineers are seen, not in the least by engineers themselves, as undertaking their attempts to change the world as a service to the public. The ideas on what is to be or what ought to be are seen as originating outside of technology itself; engineers then take it upon themselves to realize these ideas. This view is a major source for the widely spread picture of technology as being instrumental, as delivering instruments ordered from 'elsewhere', as means to ends specified outside of engineering, a picture that has served further to support the claim that technology is neutral with respect to values, discussed in Section 3.3.1. This view involves a considerable distortion of reality, however. Many engineers are intrinsically motivated to change the world, in particular the world as shaped by past technologies. As a result, much technological development is 'technology-driven'.

To understand where technology 'comes from', what drives the innovation process, is of importance not only to those who are curious to understand the phenomenon of technology itself but also to those who are concerned about its role in society. Technology or engineering as a practice is concerned with the creation of artifacts and, of increasing importance, artifact-based services. The design process, the structured process leading toward that goal, forms the core of the practice of engineering. In the engineering literature, the design process is commonly represented as consisting of a series of translational steps; see for this, e.g., Suh 2001. At the start are the customer's needs or wishes. In the first step these are translated into a list of functional requirements, which then define the design task an engineer, or a team of engineers, has to accomplish. The functional requirements specify as precisely as possible what the device to be designed must be able to do. This step is required because customers usually focus on just one or two features and are unable to articulate the requirements that are necessary to support the functionality they desire. In the second step, the functional requirements are translated into design specifications, which the exact physical parameters of crucial components by which the functional requirements are going to be met. The design parameters chosen to satisfy these requirements are combined and made more precise such that a blueprint of the device results. The blueprint contains all the details that must be known such that the final step to the process of manufacturing the device can take place. It is tempting to consider the blueprint as the end result of a design process, instead of a finished copy being this result. However, actual copies of a device are crucial for the purpose of prototyping and testing. Prototyping and testing presuppose that the sequence of steps making up the design process can and will often contain iterations, leading to revisions of the design parameters and/or the functional requirements. Even though, certainly for mass-produced items, the manufacture of a product for delivery to its customers or to the market comes after the closure of the design phase, the manufacturing process is often reflected in the functional requirements of a device, for example in putting restrictions on the number of different components of which the device consists. The complexity of a device will affect how difficult it will be to maintain or repair it, and ease of maintenance or low repair costs are often functional requirements. An important modern development is that the complete life cycle of an artifact is now considered to be the designing engineer's concern, up till the final stages of the recycling and disposal of its components and materials, and the functional requirements of any device should reflect this. From this point of view, neither a blueprint nor a prototype can be considered the end product of engineering design.

The biggest idealization that this scheme of the design process contains is arguably located at the start. Only in a minority of cases does a design task originate in a customer need or wish for a particular artifact. First of all, as already suggested, many design tasks are defined by engineers themselves, for instance, by noticing something to be improved in existing products. Nevertheless design often starts with a problem pointed out by some societal agent, which engineers are then invited to solve. Many such problems, however, are ill-defined or wicked problems, meaning that it is not at all clear what the problem is exactly and what a solution to the problem would consist in. The 'problem' is a situation that people-not necessarily the people 'in' the situation-find unsatisfactory, but typically without being able to specify a situation that they find more satisfactory in other terms than as one in which the problem has been solved. In particular it is not obvious that a solution to the problem would consist in some artifact, or some artifactual system or process, being made available or installed. Engineering departments all over the world advertise that engineering is problem solving, and engineers easily seem confident that they are best qualified to solve a problem when they are asked to, whatever the nature of the problem. This has led to the phenomenon of a technological fix, the solution of a problem by a technical solution, that is, the delivery of an artifact or artifactual process, where it is questionable, to say the least, whether this solves the problem or whether it was the best way of handling the problem.

A candidate example of a technological fix for the problem of global warming would be the currently much debated option of injecting sulfate aerosols into the stratosphere to offset the warming effect of greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide and methane. Such schemes of geoengineering would allow us to avoid facing the-in all likelihood painful-choices that will lead to a reduction of the emission of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, but will at the same time allow the depletion of the Earth's reservoir of fossil fuels to continue. See for a discussion of technological fixing, e.g., Volti 2009: 26-32. Given this situation, and its hazards, the notion of a problem and a taxonomy of problems deserve to receive more philosophical attention than they have hitherto received.

These wicked problems are often broadly social problems, which would best be met by some form of 'social action', which would result in people changing their behavior or acting differently in such a way that the problem would be mitigated or even disappear completely. In defense of the engineering view, it could perhaps be said that the repertoire of 'proven' forms of social action is meager. The temptation of technical fixes could be overcome-at least that is how an engineer might see it-by the inclusion of the social sciences in the systematic development and application of knowledge to the solution of human problems. This however, is a controversial view. Social engineering is to many a specter to be kept at as large a distance as possible instead of an ideal to be pursued. Karl Popper referred to acceptable forms of implementing social change as 'piecemeal social engineering' and contrasted it to the revolutionary but completely unfounded schemes advocated by, e.g., Marxism. In the entry on Karl Popper, however, his choice of words is called 'rather unfortunate'. The notion of social engineering, and its cogency, deserves more attention that it is currently receiving.

An important input for the design process is scientific knowledge: knowledge about the behavior of components and the materials they are composed of in specific circumstances. This is the point where science is applied. However, much of this knowledge is not directly available from the sciences, since it often concerns extremely detailed behavior in very specific circumstances. This scientific knowledge is therefore often generated within technology, by the engineering sciences. But apart from this very specific scientific knowledge, engineering design involves various other sorts of knowledge. In his book What Engineers Know and How They Know It (Vincenti 1990), the aeronautical engineer Walter Vincenti gave a six-fold categorization of engineering design knowledge (leaving aside production and operation as the other two basic constituents of engineering practice). Vincenti distinguishes

1. Fundamental design concepts, including primarily the operational principle and the normal configuration of a particular device;

2. Criteria and specifications;

3. Theoretical tools;

4. Quantitative data;

5. Practical considerations;

6. Design instrumentalities.

The fourth category concerns the quantitative knowledge just referred to, and the third the theoretical tools used to acquire it. These two categories can be assumed to match Bunge's notion of substantive technological theories. The status of the remaining four categories is much less clear, however, partly because they are less familiar, or not at all, from the well-explored context of science. Of these categories, Vincenti claims that they represent prescriptive forms of knowledge rather than descriptive ones. Here, the activity of design introduces an element of normativity, which is absent from scientific knowledge. Take such a basic notion as 'operational principle', which refers to the way in which the function of a device is realized, or, in short, how it works. This is still a purely descriptive notion. Subsequently, however, it plays a role in arguments that seek to prescribe a course of action to someone who has a goal that could be realized by the operation of such a device. At this stage, the issue changes from a descriptive to a prescriptive or normative one. An extensive discussion of the various kinds of knowledge relevant to technology is offered by Houkes (2009).

Although the notion of an operational principle-a term that seems to originate with Polanyi (1958)-is central to engineering design, no single clear-cut definition of it seems to exist. The issue of disentangling descriptive from prescriptive aspects in an analysis of technical actions and their constituents is therefore a task that has hardly begun. This task requires a clear view on the extent and scope of technology. If one follows Joseph Pitt in his book Thinking About Technology (1999) and defines technology broadly as 'humanity at work', then to distinguish between technical action and action in general becomes difficult, and the study of action in technology must absorb all descriptive and normative theories of action, including the theory of practical rationality, and much of theoretical economics in its wake. There have indeed been attempts at such an encompassing account of human action, for example Tadeusz Kotarbinski's Praxiology (1965), but a perspective of such generality makes it difficult to arrive at results of sufficient depth. It would be a challenge for philosophy to specify the differences among action forms and the reasoning grounding them in, to single out three prominent fields of study, technology, organization and management, and economics.

A more restricted attempt at such an approach is Ilkka Niiniluoto's (1993). According to Niiniluoto, the theoretical framework of technology as an activity that is concerned with what the world should be like rather than is, the framework that forms the counterpoint to the descriptive framework of science, is design science. The content of design science, the counterpoint to the theories and explanations that form the content of descriptive science, would then be formed by technical norms, statements of the form 'If one wants to achieve X, one should do Y'. The notion of a technical norm derives from Georg Henrik von Wright's Norm and Action (1963). Technical norms need to be distinguished from anankastic statements expressing natural necessity, of the form 'If X is to be achieved, Y needs to be done'; the latter have a truth value but the former have not. Von Wright himself, however, wrote that he did not understand the mutual relations between these statements. Zwart, Franssen and Kroes (2018) present a detailed discussion. Ideas on what design science is and can and should be are evidently related to the broad problem area of practical rationality-see this encyclopedia's entries on practical reason and instrumental rationality -and also to means-ends reasoning, discussed in the next section.

2.4 Methodological Issues: Design as Decision Making

Design is an activity that is subject to rational scrutiny but in which creativity is considered to play an important role as well. Since design is a form of action, a structured series of decisions to proceed in one way rather than another, the form of rationality that is relevant to it is practical rationality, the rationality incorporating the criteria on how to act, given particular circumstances. This suggests a clear division of labor between the part to be played by rational scrutiny and the part to be played by creativity. Theories of rational action generally conceive their problem situation as one involving a choice among various course of action open to the agent. Rationality then concerns the question how to decide among given options, whereas creativity concerns the generation of these options. This distinction is similar to the distinction between the context of justification and the context of discovery in science. The suggestion that is associated with this distinction, however, that rational scrutiny only applies in the context of justification, is difficult to uphold for technological design. If the initial creative phase of option generation is conducted sloppily, the result of the design task can hardly be satisfactory. Unlike the case of science, where the practical consequences of entertaining a particular theory are not taken into consideration, the context of discovery in technology is governed by severe constraints of time and money, and an analysis of the problem how best to proceed certainly seems in order. There has been little philosophical work done in this direction; an overview of the issues is given in Kroes, Franssen, and Bucciarelli (2009).

The ideas of Herbert Simon on bounded rationality (see, e.g., Simon 1982) are relevant here, since decisions on when to stop generating options and when to stop gathering information about these options and the consequences when they are adopted are crucial in decision making if informational overload and calculative intractability are to be avoided. However, it has proved difficult to further develop Simon's ideas on bounded rationality since their conception in the 1950s. Another notion that is relevant here is means-ends reasoning. In order to be of any help here, theories of means-ends reasoning should then concern not just the evaluation of given means with respect to their ability to achieve given ends, but also the generation or construction of means for given ends. A comprehensive theory of means-ends reasoning, however, is not yet available; for a proposal on how to develop means-ends reasoning in the context of technical artifacts, see Hughes, Kroes, and Zwart 2007. In the practice of engineering, alternative proposals for the realization of particular functions are usually taken from 'catalogs' of existing and proven realizations. These catalogs are extended by ongoing research in technology rather than under the urge of particular design tasks.

When engineering design is conceived as a process of decision making, governed by considerations of practical rationality, the next step is to specify these considerations. Almost all theories of practical rationality conceive of it as a reasoning process where a match between beliefs and desires or goals is sought. The desires or goals are represented by their value or utility for the decision maker, and the decision maker's problem is to choose an action that realizes a situation that, ideally, has maximal value or utility among all the situations that could be realized. If there is uncertainty concerning the situations that will be realized by a particular action, then the problem is conceived as aiming for maximal expected value or utility. Now the instrumental perspective on technology implies that the value that is at issue in the design process viewed as a process of rational decision making is not the value of the artifacts that are created. Those values are the domain of the users of the technology so created. They are supposed to be represented in the functional requirements defining the design task. Instead the value to be maximized is the extent to which a particular design meets the functional requirements defining the design task. It is in this sense that engineers share an overall perspective on engineering design as an exercise in optimization. But although optimization is a value-orientated notion, it is not itself perceived as a value driving engineering design.

The functional requirements that define most design problems do not prescribe explicitly what should be optimized; usually they set levels to be attained minimally. It is then up to the engineer to choose how far to go beyond meeting the requirements in this minimal sense. Efficiency, in energy consumption and use of materials first of all, is then often a prime value. Under the pressure of society, other values have come to be incorporated, in particular safety and, more recently, sustainability. Sometimes it is claimed that what engineers aim to maximize is just one factor, namely market success. Market success, however, can only be assessed after the fact. The engineer's maximization effort will instead be directed at what are considered the predictors of market success. Meeting the functional requirements and being relatively efficient and safe are plausible candidates as such predictors, but additional methods, informed by market research, may introduce additional factors or may lead to a hierarchy among the factors.

Choosing the design option that maximally meets all the functional requirements (which may but need not originate with the prospective user) and all other considerations and criteria that are taken to be relevant, then becomes the practical decision-making problem to be solved in a particular engineering-design task. This creates several methodological problems. Most important of these is that the engineer is facing a multi-criteria decision problem. The various requirements come with their own operationalizations in terms of design parameters and measurement procedures for assessing their performance. This results in a number of rank orders or quantitative scales which represent the various options out of which a choice is to be made. The task is to come up with a final score in which all these results are 'adequately' represented, such that the option that scores best can be considered the optimal solution to the design problem. Engineers describe this situation as one where trade-offs have to be made: in judging the merit of one option relative to other options, a relative bad performance on one criterion can be balanced by a relatively good performance on another criterion. An important problem is whether a rational method for doing this can be formulated. It has been argued by Franssen (2005) that this problem is structurally similar to the well-known problem of social choice, for which Kenneth Arrow proved his notorious impossibility theorem in 1950. As a consequence, as long as we require from a solution method to this problem that it answers to some requirements that spell out its generality and rationality, no such solution method exists. In technical design, the role that individual voters play in situations of social choice is played by the various design criteria, which each have a say in what the resulting product comes to look like. This poses serious problems for the claims of engineers that their designs are optimal solutions in the sense of satisfying the totality of the design criteria best, since Arrow's theorem implies that in most multi-criteria problems this notion of 'optimal' cannot be rigorously defined, just as in most multi-voter situations the notion of a best or even adequate representation of what the voters jointly want cannot be rigorously defined.

This result seems to except a crucial aspect of engineering activity from philosophical scrutiny, and it could be used to defend the opinion that engineering is at least partly an art, not a science. Instead of surrendering to the result, however, which has a significance that extends much beyond engineering and even beyond decision making in general, we should perhaps conclude instead that there is still a lot of work to be done on what might be termed, provisionally, 'approximative' forms of reasoning. One form of reasoning to be included here is Herbert Simon's bounded rationality, plus the related notion of 'satisficing'. Since their introduction in the 1950s (Simon 1957) these two terms have found wide usage, but we are still lacking a general theory of bounded rationality. It may be in the nature of forms of approximative reasoning such as bounded rationality that a general theory cannot be had, but even a systematic treatment from which such an insight could emerge seems to be lacking.

Another problem for the decision-making view of engineering design is that in modern technology almost all design is done by teams. Such teams are composed of experts from many different disciplines. Each discipline has its own theories, its own models of interdependencies, its own assessment criteria, and so forth, and the professionals belonging to these disciplines must be considered as inhabitants of different object worlds, as Louis Bucciarelli (1994) phrases it. The different team members are, therefore, likely to disagree on the relative rankings and evaluations of the various design options under discussion. Agreement on one option as the overall best one can here be even less arrived at by an algorithmic method exemplifying engineering rationality. Instead, models of social interaction, such as bargaining and strategic thinking, are relevant here. An example of such an approach to an (abstract) design problem is presented by Franssen and Bucciarelli (2004).

To look in this way at technological design as a decision-making process is to view it normatively from the point of view of practical or instrumental rationality. At the same time it is descriptive in that it is a description of how engineering methodology generally presents the issue how to solve design problems. From that somewhat higher perspective there is room for all kinds of normative questions that are not addressed here, such as whether the functional requirements defining a design problem can be seen as an adequate representation of the values of the prospective users of an artifact or a technology, or by which methods values such as safety and sustainability can best be elicited and represented in the design process. These issues will be taken up in Section 3.

Understanding the process of designing artifacts is the theme in philosophy of technology that most directly touches on the interests of engineering practice. This is hardly true for another issue of central concern to analytic philosophy of technology, which is the status and the character of artifacts. This is perhaps not unlike the situation in the philosophy of science, where working scientists seem also to be much less interested in investigating the status and character of models and theories than philosophers are.

Artifacts are man-made objects: they have an author (see Hilpinen 1992 and Hilpinen's article artifact in this encyclopedia). The artifacts that are of relevance to technology are, additionally, made to serve a purpose. This excludes, within the set of all man-made objects, byproducts and waste products and equally, though controversially, works of art. Byproducts and waste products result from an intentional act to make something but just not precisely, although the author at work may be well aware of their creation. Works of art result from an intention directed at their creation (although in exceptional cases of conceptual art, this directedness may involve many intermediate steps) but it is contested whether artists include in their intentions concerning their work an intention that the work serves some purpose. Nevertheless, most philosophers of technology who discuss the metaphysics of artifacts exclude artworks from their analyses. A further discussion of this aspect belongs to the philosophy of art. An interesting general account which does not do so has been presented by Dipert (1993).

Technical artifacts, then, are made to serve some purpose, generally to be used for something or to act as a component in a larger artifact, which in its turn is either something to be used or again a component. Whether end product or component, an artifact is 'for something', and what it is for is called the artifact's function. Several researchers have emphasized that an adequate description of artifacts must refer both to their status as tangible physical objects and to the intentions of the people engaged with them. Kroes and Meijers (2006) have dubbed this view "the dual nature of technical artifacts"; its most mature formulation is Kroes 2012. They suggest that the two aspects are 'tied up', so to speak, in the notion of artifact function. This gives rise to several problems. One, which will be passed over quickly because little philosophical work seems to have been done concerning it, is that structure and function mutually constrain each other, but the constraining is only partial. It is unclear whether a general account of this relation is possible and what problems need to be solved to arrive there. There may be interesting connections with the issue of multiple realizability in the philosophy of mind and with accounts of reduction in science; an example where this is explored is Mahner and Bunge 2001.

It is equally problematic whether a unified account of the notion of function as such is possible, but this issue has received considerably more philosophical attention. The notion of function is of paramount importance for characterizing artifacts, but the notion is used much more widely. The notion of an artifact's function seems to refer necessarily to human intentions. Function is also a key concept in biology, however, where no intentionality plays a role, and it is a key concept in cognitive science and the philosophy of mind, where it is crucial in grounding intentionality in non-intentional, structural and physical properties. Up till now there is no accepted general account of function that covers both the intentionality-based notion of artifact function and the non-intentional notion of biological function-not to speak of other areas where the concept plays a role, such as the social sciences. The most comprehensive theory, that has the ambition to account for the biological notion, cognitive notion and the intentional notion, is Ruth Millikan's 1984; for criticisms and replies, see Preston 1998, 2003; Millikan 1999; Vermaas & Houkes 2003; and Houkes & Vermaas 2010. The collection of essays edited by Ariew, Cummins and Perlman (2002) presents an introduction to the topic of characterizing the notion of function, although the emphasis is on biological functions. This emphasis remains very strong in the literature, as can be judged from the most recent critical overview (Garson 2016), which explicitly refrains from discussing artifact functions.

Against the view that, at least in the case of artifacts, the notion of function refers necessarily to intentionality, it could be argued that in discussing the functions of the components of a larger device, and the interrelations between these functions, the intentional 'side' of these functions is of secondary importance only. This, however, would be to ignore the possibility of the malfunctioning of such components. This notion seems to be definable only in terms of a mismatch between actual behavior and intended behavior. The notion of malfunction also sharpens an ambiguity in the general reference to intentions when characterizing technical artifacts. These artifacts usually engage many people, and the intentions of these people may not all pull in the same direction. A major distinction can be drawn between the intentions of the actual user of an artifact for a particular purpose and the intentions of the artifact's designer. Since an artifact may be used for a purpose different from the one for which its designer intended it to be used, and since people may also use natural objects for some purpose or other, one is invited to allow that artifacts can have multiple functions, or to enforce a hierarchy among all relevant intentions in determining the function of an artifact, or to introduce a classification of functions in terms of the sorts of determining intentions. In the latter case, which is a sort of middle way between the two other options, one commonly distinguishes between the proper function of an artifact as the one intended by its designer and the accidental function of the artifact as the one given to it by some user on private considerations. Accidental use can become so common, however, that the original function drops out of memory.

Closely related to this issue to what extent use and design determine the function of an artifact is the problem of characterizing artifact kinds. It may seem that we use functions to classify artifacts: an object is a knife because it has the function of cutting, or more precisely, of enabling us to cut. On closer inspection, however, the link between function and kind-membership seems much less straightforward. The basic kinds in technology are, for example, 'knife', 'aircraft' and 'piston'. The members of these kinds have been designed in order to be used to cut something with, to transport something through the air and to generate mechanical movement through thermodynamic expansion, respectively. However, one cannot create a particular kind of artifact just by designing something with the intention that it be used for some particular purpose: a member of the kind so created must actually be useful for that purpose. Despite innumerable design attempts and claims, the perpetual motion machine is not a kind of artifact. A kind like 'knife' is defined, therefore, not only by the intentions of the designers of its members that they each be useful for cutting but also by a shared operational principle known to these designers, and on which they based their design. This is, in a different setting, also defended by Thomasson, who in her characterization of what she in general calls an artifactual kind says that such a kind is defined by the designer's intention to make something of that kind, by a substantive idea that the designer has of how this can be achieved, and by his or her largely successful achievement of it (Thomasson 2003, 2007). Qua sorts of kinds in which artifacts can be grouped, a distinction must therefore be made between a kind like 'knife' and a corresponding but different kind 'cutter'. A 'knife' indicates a particular way a 'cutter' can be made. One can also cut, however, with a thread or line, a welding torch, a water jet, and undoubtedly by other sorts of means that have not yet been thought of. A 'cutter' would then refer to a truly functional kind. As such, it is subject to the conflict between use and design: one could mean by 'cutter' anything than can be used for cutting or anything that has been designed to be used for cutting, by the application of whatever operational principle, presently known or unknown.

This distinction between artifact kinds and functional kinds is relevant for the status of such kinds in comparison to other notions of kinds. Philosophy of science has emphasized that the concept of natural kind, such as exemplified by 'water' or 'atom', lies at the basis of science. On the other hand it is generally taken for granted that there are no regularities that all knives or airplanes or pistons answer to. This, however, is loosely based on considerations of multiple realizability that fully apply only to functional kinds, not to artifact kinds. Artifact kinds share an operational principle that gives them some commonality in physical features, and this commonality becomes stronger once a particular artifact kind is subdivided into narrower kinds. Since these kinds are specified in terms of physical and geometrical parameters, they are much closer to the natural kinds of science, in that they support law-like regularities; see for a defense of this position (Soavi 2009). A recent collection of essays that discuss the metaphysics of artifacts and artifact kinds is Franssen, Kroes, Reydon and Vermaas 2014.

2.6 Other Topics

There is at least one additional technology-related topic that ought to be mentioned because it has created a good deal of analytic philosophical literature, namely Artificial Intelligence and related areas. A full discussion of this vast field is beyond the scope of this entry, however. Information is to be found in the entries on Turing machines, the Church-Turing thesis, computability and complexity, the Turing test, the Chinese room argument, the computational theory of mind, functionalism, multiple realizability, and the philosophy of computer science.

3. Ethical and Social Aspects of Technology

3.1 The Development of the Ethics of Technology

It was not until the twentieth century that the development of the ethics of technology as a systematic and more or less independent subdiscipline of philosophy started. This late development may seem surprising given the large impact that technology has had on society, especially since the industrial revolution.

A plausible reason for this late development of ethics of technology is the instrumental perspective on technology that was mentioned in Section 2.2. This perspective implies, basically, a positive ethical assessment of technology: technology increases the possibilities and capabilities of humans, which seems in general desirable. Of course, since antiquity, it has been recognized that the new capabilities may be put to bad use or lead to human hubris. Often, however, these undesirable consequences are attributed to the users of technology, rather than the technology itself, or its developers. This vision is known as the instrumental vision of technology resulting in the so-called neutrality thesis. The neutrality thesis holds that technology is a neutral instrument that can be put to good or bad use by its users. During the twentieth century, this neutrality thesis met with severe critique, most prominently by Heidegger and Ellul, who have been mentioned in this context in Section 2, but also by philosophers from the Frankfurt School, such as Horkheimer and Adorno (1947 [2002]), Marcuse (1964), and Habermas (1968 [1970]).

The scope and the agenda for ethics of technology to a large extent depend on how technology is conceptualized. The second half of the twentieth century has witnessed a richer variety of conceptualizations of technology that move beyond the conceptualization of technology as a neutral tool, as a world view or as a historical necessity. This includes conceptualizations of technology as a political phenomenon (Winner, Feenberg, Sclove), as a social activity (Latour, Callon, Bijker and others in the area of science and technology studies), as a cultural phenomenon (Ihde, Borgmann), as a professional activity (engineering ethics, e.g., Davis), and as a cognitive activity (Bunge, Vincenti). Despite this diversity, the development in the second half of the twentieth century is characterized by two general trends. One is a move away from technological determinism and the assumption that technology is a given self-contained phenomenon which develops autonomously to an emphasis on technological development being the result of choices (although not necessarily the intended result). The other is a move away from ethical reflection on technology as such to ethical reflection of specific technologies and to specific phases in the development of technology. Both trends together have resulted in an enormous increase in the number and scope of ethical questions that are asked about technology. The developments also imply that ethics of technology is to be adequately empirically informed, not only about the exact consequences of specific technologies but also about the actions of engineers and the process of technological development. This has also opened the way to the involvement of other disciplines in ethical reflections on technology, such as Science and Technology Studies (STS) and Technology Assessment (TA).

3.2 Approaches in the Ethics of Technology

Not only is the ethics of technology characterized by a diversity of approaches, it might even be doubted whether something like a subdiscipline of ethics of technology, in the sense of a community of scholars working on a common set of problems, exists. The scholars studying ethical issues in technology have diverse backgrounds (e.g., philosophy, STS, TA, law, political science, and STEM disciplines) and they do not always consider themselves (primarily) ethicists of technology. To give the reader an overview of the field, three basic approaches or strands that might be distinguished in the ethics of technology will be discussed.

3.2.1 Cultural and political approaches

Both cultural and political approaches build on the traditional philosophy and ethics of technology of the first half of the twentieth century. Whereas cultural approaches conceive of technology as a cultural phenomenon that influences our perception of the world, political approaches conceive of technology as a political phenomenon, i.e., as a phenomenon that is ruled by and embodies institutional power relations between people.

Cultural approaches are often phenomenological in nature or at least position themselves in relation to phenomenology as post-phenomenology. Examples of philosophers in this tradition are Don Ihde, Albert Borgmann, Peter-Paul Verbeek and Evan Selinger (e.g., Borgmann 1984; Ihde 1990; Verbeek 2000 [2005], 2011). The approaches are usually influenced by developments in STS, especially the idea that technologies contain a script that influences not only people's perception of the world but also human behavior, and the idea of the absence of a fundamental distinction between humans and non-humans, including technological artifacts (Akrich 1992; Latour 1992, 1993; Ihde & Selinger 2003). The combination of both ideas has led some to claim that technology has (moral) agency, a claim that is discussed below in Section 3.3.1.

Political approaches to technology mostly go back to Marx, who assumed that the material structure of production in society, in which technology is obviously a major factor, determined the economic and social structure of that society. Similarly, Langdon Winner has argued that technologies can embody specific forms of power and authority (Winner 1980). According to him, some technologies are inherently normative in the sense that they require or are strongly compatible with certain social and political relations. Railroads, for example, seem to require a certain authoritative management structure. In other cases, technologies may be political due to the particular way they have been designed. Some political approaches to technology are inspired by (American) pragmatism and, to a lesser extent, discourse ethics. A number of philosophers, for example, have pleaded for a democratization of technological development and the inclusion of ordinary people in the shaping of technology (Winner 1983; Sclove 1995; Feenberg 1999). Such ideas are also echoed in recent interdisciplinary approaches, such as Responsible Research and Innovation (RRI), that aim at opening up the innovation process to a broader range of stakeholders and concerns (Owen et al. 2013).

Although political approaches have obviously ethical ramifications, many philosophers who initially adopted such approaches do not engage in explicit ethical reflection. Also in political philosophy, technology does not seem to have been taken up as an important topic. Nevertheless, particularly in relation to digital technologies such as social media, algorithms and more generally Artificial Intelligence (AI), a range of political themes has recently been discussed, such as threats to democracy (from e.g. social media), the power of Big Tech companies, and new forms of exploitation, domination and colonialism that may come with AI (e.g., Coeckelbergh 2022; Susskind 2022; Zuboff 2017; Adams 2021). An important emerging theme is also justice, which does not just encompass distributive justice (Rawls 1999), but also recognition justice (Fraser and Honneth 2003) and procedural justice. Questions about justice have not only been raised by digital technologies, but also by climate change and energy technologies, leading to the coinage of new notions like climate justice (Caney 2014) and energy justice (Jenkins et al. 2016).

3.2.2 Engineering ethics

Engineering ethics started off in the 1980s in the United States, merely as an educational effort. Engineering ethics is concerned with "the actions and decisions made by persons, individually or collectively, who belong to the profession of engineering" (Baum 1980: 1). According to this approach, engineering is a profession, in the same way as medicine is a profession.

Although there is no agreement on how a profession exactly should be defined, the following characteristics are often mentioned:

A profession relies on specialized knowledge and skills that require a long period of study;

The occupational group has a monopoly on the carrying out of the occupation;

The assessment of whether the professional work is carried out in a competent way is done by, and it is accepted that this can only be done by, professional peers;

A profession provides society with products, services or values that are useful or worthwhile for society, and is characterized by an ideal of serving society;

The daily practice of professional work is regulated by ethical standards, which are derived from or relate to the society-serving ideal of the profession.

Typical ethical issues that are discussed in engineering ethics are professional obligations of engineers as exemplified in, for example, codes of ethics of engineers, the role of engineers versus managers, competence, honesty, whistle-blowing, concern for safety and conflicts of interest (Davis 1998, 2005). Over the years, the scope of engineering ethics has been broadened. Whereas it initially often focused on decisions of individual engineers and on questions like whistle-blowing and loyalty, textbooks now also discuss the wider context in which such decisions are made and pay attention to for example, the so-called problem of many hands (van de Poel and Royakkers 2011; Peterson 2020) (see also section 3.3.2). Initially, the focus was often primarily on safety concerns and issues like competence and conflicts of interests, but nowadays also issues of sustainability, social justice, privacy, global issues and the role of technology in society are discussed (Harris, Pritchard, and Rabins 2014; Martin and Schinzinger 2022; Taebi 2021; Peterson 2020; van de Poel and Royakkers 2011).

3.2.3 Ethics of specific technologies

The last decades have witnessed an enormous increase in ethical inquiries into specific technologies. This may now be the largest of the three strands discussed, especially given the rapid growth in technology-specific ethical inquiries in the last two decades. One of the most visible new fields nowadays is digital ethics, which evolved from computer ethics (e.g., Moor 1985; Floridi 2010; Johnson 2009; Weckert 2007; van den Hoven & Weckert 2008), with more recently a focus on robotics, artificial intelligence, machine ethics, and the ethics of algorithms (Lin, Abney, & Jenkins 2017; Nucci & Santoni de Sio 2016; Mittelstadt et al. 2016; Bostrom & Yudkowsky 2014; Wallach & Allen 2009, Coeckelbergh 2020b). Other technologies like biotechnology have also spurred dedicated ethical investigations (e.g., Sherlock & Morrey 2002; P. Thompson 2007). More traditional fields like architecture and urban planning have also attracted specific ethical attention (Fox 2000). Nanotechnology and so-called converging technologies have led to the establishment of what is called nanoethics (Allhoff et al. 2007). Other examples are the ethics of nuclear deterrence (Finnis et al. 1988), nuclear energy (Taebi & Roeser 2015) and geoengineering (Christopher Preston 2016).

Obviously the establishment of such new fields of ethical reflection is a response to social and technological developments. Still, the question can be asked whether the social demand is best met by establishing new fields of applied ethics. This issue is in fact regularly discussed as new fields emerge. Several authors have for example argued that there is no need for nanoethics because nanotechnology does not raise any really new ethical issues (e.g., McGinn 2010). The alleged absence of newness here is supported by the claim that the ethical issues raised by nanotechnology are a variation on, and sometimes an intensification of, existing ethical issues, but hardly really new, and by the claim that these issues can be dealt with the existing theories and concepts from moral philosophy. For an earlier, similar discussion concerning the supposed new character of ethical issues in computer engineering, see Tavani 2002.

The new fields of ethical reflection are often characterized as applied ethics, that is, as applications of theories, normative standards, concepts and methods developed in moral philosophy. For each of these elements, however, application is usually not straightforward but requires a further specification or revision. This is the case because general moral standards, concepts and methods are often not specific enough to be applicable in any direct sense to specific moral problems. 'Application' therefore often leads to new insights which might well result in the reformulation or at least refinement of existing normative standards, concepts and methods. In some cases, ethical issues in a specific field might require new standards, concepts or methods. Beauchamp and Childress for example have proposed a number of general ethical principles for biomedical ethics (Beauchamp & Childress 2001). These principles are more specific than general normative standards, but still so general and abstract that they apply to different issues in biomedical ethics. In computer ethics, existing moral concepts relating to for example privacy and ownership has been redefined and adapted to deal with issues which are typical for the computer age (Johnson 2003). An example is Nissenbaum's proposal to understand privacy in terms of contextual integrity (Nissenbaum 2010). New fields of ethical application might also require new methods for, for example, discerning ethical issues that take into account relevant empirical facts about these fields, like the fact that technological research and development usually takes place in networks of people rather than by individuals (Zwart et al. 2006). Another more general issue that applies to many new technologies is how to deal with the uncertainties about (potential) social and ethical impacts that typically surround new emerging technologies. Brey's (2012) proposal for an anticipatory ethics may be seen as a reply to this challenge. The issue of anticipation is also one of the central concerns in the more recent interdisciplinary field of Responsible Research and Innovation (RRI) (e.g., Owen et al. 2013).

Although different fields of ethical reflection on specific technologies might well raise their own philosophical and ethical issues, it can be questioned whether this justifies the development of separate subfields or even subdisciplines. One obvious argument might be that in order to say something ethically meaningful about new technologies, one needs specialized and detailed knowledge of a specific technology. Moreover such subfields allow interaction with relevant non-philosophical experts in for example law, psychology, economy, science and technology studies (STS) or technology assessment (TA), as well as the relevant STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Medicine) disciplines. On the other side, it could also be argued that a lot can be learned from interaction and discussion between ethicists specializing in different technologies, and a fruitful interaction with the two other strands discussed above (cultural and political approaches and engineering ethics). In particular more political approaches to technology can be complementary to approaches that focus on ethical issue of specific technologies (such as AI) by drawing attention to justice issues, power differences and the role of larger institutional and international contexts. Currently, such interaction in many cases seems absent, although there are of course exceptions.

3.3 Some Recurrent Themes in the Ethics of Technology

We now turn to the description of some specific themes in the ethics of technology. We focus on a number of general themes that provide an illustration of general issues in the ethics of technology and the way these are treated.

3.3.1 Neutrality versus moral agency

One important general theme in the ethics of technology is the question whether technology is value-laden. Some authors have maintained that technology is value-neutral, in the sense that technology is just a neutral means to an end, and accordingly can be put to good or bad use (e.g., Pitt 2000). This view might have some plausibility in as far as technology is considered to be just a bare physical structure. Most philosophers of technology, however, agree that technological development is a goal-oriented process and that technological artifacts by definition have certain functions, so that they can be used for certain goals but not, or far more difficulty or less effectively, for other goals. This conceptual connection between technological artifacts, functions and goals makes it hard to maintain that technology is value-neutral. Even if this point is granted, the value-ladenness of technology can be construed in a host of different ways. Some authors have maintained that technology can have moral agency. This claim suggests that technologies can autonomously and freely 'act' in a moral sense and can be held morally responsible for their actions.

The debate whether technologies can have moral agency started off in computer ethics (Bechtel 1985; Snapper 1985; Dennett 1997; Floridi & Sanders 2004) but has since broadened. Typically, the authors who claim that technologies (can) have moral agency often redefine the notion of agency or its connection to human will and freedom (e.g., Latour 1993; Floridi & Sanders 2004, Verbeek 2011). A disadvantage of this strategy is that it tends to blur the morally relevant distinctions between people and technological artifacts. More generally, the claim that technologies have moral agency sometimes seems to have become shorthand for claiming that technology is morally relevant. This, however, overlooks the fact technologies can be value-laden in other ways than by having moral agency (see, e.g., Johnson 2006; Radder 2009; Illies & Meijers 2009; Peterson & Spahn 2011; Miller 2020; Klenk 2021). One might, for example, claim that technology enables (or even invites) and constrains (or even inhibits) certain human actions and the attainment of certain human goals and therefore is to some extent value-laden, without claiming moral agency for technological artifacts. A good overview of the debate can be found in Kroes and Verbeek 2014.

The debate about moral agency and technology is now particularly salient with respect to the design of intelligent artificial agents. James Moor (2006) has distinguished between four ways in which artificial agents may be or become moral agents:

1. Ethical impact agents are robots and computer systems that ethically impact their environment; this is probably true of all artificial agents.

2. Implicit ethical agents are artificial agents that have been programmed to act according to certain values.

3. Explicit ethical agents are machines that can represent ethical categories and that can 'reason' (in machine language) about these.

4. Full ethical agents in addition also possess some characteristics we often consider crucial for human agency, like consciousness, free will and intentionality.

It might perhaps never be possible to technologically design full ethical agents, and if it were to become possible it might be questionable whether it is morally desirable to do so (Bostrom & Yudkowsky 2014; van Wynsberghe and Robbins 2019). As Wallach and Allen (2009) have pointed out, the main problem might not be to design artificial agents that can function autonomously and that can adapt themselves in interaction with the environment, but rather to build enough, and the right kind of, ethical sensitivity into such machines.

Apart from the question whether intelligent artificial agents can have moral agency, there are (broader) questions about their moral status; for example would they-and if so under what conditions-qualify as moral patients, to which humans have certain moral obligations. Traditionally, moral status is connected to consciousness, but a number of authors have proposed more minimal criteria for moral status, particularly for (social) robots. For example, Danaher (2020) has suggested that behaviouristic criteria might suffice whereas Coeckelbergh (2014) and Gunkel (2018) have suggested a relational approach. Mosakas (2021) has argued that such approaches do not ground moral status, and hence humans have no direct moral duties towards social robots (although they may still be morally relevant in other ways). Others have suggested that social robots sometimes may deceive us into believing they have certain cognitive and emotional capabilities (that may give them also moral status) while they have not (Sharkey and Sharkey 2021).

3.3.2 Responsibility

Responsibility has always been a central theme in the ethics of technology. The traditional philosophy and ethics of technology, however, tended to discuss responsibility in rather general terms and were rather pessimistic about the possibility of engineers to assume responsibility for the technologies they developed. Ellul, for example, has characterized engineers as the high priests of technology, who cherish technology but cannot steer it. Hans Jonas (1979 [1984]) has argued that technology requires an ethics in which responsibility is the central imperative because for the first time in history we are able to destroy the earth and humanity.

In engineering ethics, the responsibility of engineers is often discussed in relation to code of ethics that articulate specific responsibilities of engineers. Such codes of ethics stress three types of responsibilities of engineers: (1) conducting the profession with integrity and honesty and in a competent way, (2) responsibilities towards employers and clients and (3) responsibility towards the public and society. With respect to the latter, most US codes of ethics maintain that engineers 'should hold paramount the safety, health and welfare of the public'.

As has been pointed out by several authors (Nissenbaum 1996; Johnson & Powers 2005; Swierstra & Jelsma 2006), it may be hard to pinpoint individual responsibility in engineering. The reason is that the conditions for the proper attribution of individual responsibility that have been discussed in the philosophical literature (like freedom to act, knowledge, and causality) are often not met by individual engineers. For example, engineers may feel compelled to act in a certain way due to hierarchical or market constraints, and negative consequences may be very hard or impossible to predict beforehand. The causality condition is often difficult to meet as well due to the long chain from research and development of a technology till its use and the many people involved in this chain. Davis (2012) nevertheless maintains that despite such difficulties individual engineers can and do take responsibility.

One issue that is at stake in this debate is the notion of responsibility. Davis (2012), and also for example Ladd (1991), argue for a notion of responsibility that focuses less on blame and stresses the forward-looking or virtuous character of assuming responsibility. But many others focus on backward-looking notions of responsibility that stress accountability, blameworthiness or liability. Zandvoort (2000), for example has pleaded for a notion of responsibility in engineering that is more like the legal notion of strict liability, in which the knowledge condition for responsibility is seriously weakened. Doorn (2012) compares three perspectives on responsibility ascription in engineering-a merit-based, a right-based and a consequentialist perspective-and argues that the consequentialist perspective, which applies a forward-looking notion of responsibility, is most powerful in influencing engineering practice.

The difficulty of attributing individual responsibility may lead to the Problem of Many Hands (PMH). The term was first coined by Dennis Thompson (1980) in an article about the responsibility of public officials. The term is used to describe problems with the ascription of individual responsibility in collective settings. Doorn (2010) has proposed a procedurals approach, based on Rawls' reflective equilibrium model, to deal with the PMH; other ways of dealing with the PMH include the design of institutions that help to avoid it or an emphasis on virtuous behavior in organizations (van de Poel, Royakers, & Zwart 2015).

Whereas the PMH refers to the problem of attributing responsibility among a collective of human agents, technological developments have also made it possible to allocate tasks to self-learning and intelligent systems. Such systems may function and learn in ways that are hard to understand, predict and control for humans, leading to so-called 'responsibility gaps' (Matthias 2004). Since knowledge and control are usually seen as (essential) preconditions for responsibility, lack thereof may make it increasingly difficult to hold humans responsible for the actions and consequences of intelligent systems.

Initially, such responsibility gaps were mainly discussed in relation to autonomous weapon systems and self-driving cars (Sparrow 2007; Danaher 2016). As a possible solution, the notion of meaningful human control has been proposed as a precondition for the development and employment of such systems to ensure that human can retain control, and hence responsibility over these systems (Santoni de Sio and van den Hoven 2018). Nyholm (2018) has argued that many alleged cases of responsibility gaps are better understood in terms collaborative human-technology agency (with humans in a supervising role) rather than the technology taking over control. While responsibility gaps may not impossible, the more difficult issue may be to attribute responsibility to the various humans involved (which brings the PMH back on the table).

More recently, responsibility gaps have become a more general concern in relation to AI. Due to the advance of machine learning, AI systems may learn in ways that are hard, or almost impossible to understand for humans. Initially, the dominant notion of responsibility addressed in the literature on responsibility gaps was blameworthiness or culpability, but Santoni de Sio and Mecacci (2021) have recently proposed to distinguish between what they call culpability gaps, moral accountability gaps, public accountability gaps, and active responsibility gaps.

3.3.3 Design

In the last decades, increasingly attention is paid not only to ethical issues that arise during the use of a technology, but also during the design phase. An important consideration behind this development is the thought that during the design phase technologies, and their social consequences, are still malleable whereas during the use phase technologies are more or less given and negative social consequences may be harder to avoid or positive effects harder to achieve.

In computer ethics, an approach known as Value Sensitive Design (VSD) has been developed to explicitly address the ethical nature of design. VSD aims at integrating values of ethical importance in engineering design in a systematic way (Friedman & Hendry 2019). The approach combines conceptual, empirical and technical investigations. There is also a range of other approaches aimed at including values in design. 'Design for X' approaches in engineering aim at including instrumental values (like maintainability, reliability and costs) but they also include design for sustainability, inclusive design, and affective design (Holt & Barnes 2010). Inclusive design aims at making designs accessible to the whole population including, for example, handicapped people and the elderly (Erlandson 2008). Affective design aims at designs that evoke positive emotions with the users and so contributes to human well-being. Van de Hoven, Vermaas, and van de Poel 2015 gives a good overview of the state-of-the art of value sensitive design for various values and application domains.

If one tries to integrate values into design one may run into the problem of a conflict of values. The safest car is, due to its weight, not likely to be the most sustainability. Here safety and sustainability conflict in the design of cars. Traditional methods in which engineers deal with such conflicts and make trade-off between different requirements for design include cost-benefit analysis and multiple criteria analysis. Such methods are, however, beset with methodological problems like those discussed in Section 2.4 (Franssen 2005; Hansson 2007). Van de Poel (2009) discusses various alternatives for dealing with value conflicts in design including the setting of thresholds (satisficing), reasoning about values, innovation and diversity.

3.3.4 Technological risks

The risks of technology are one of the traditional ethical concerns in the ethics of technology. Risks raise not only ethical issues but other philosophical issues, such as epistemological and decision-theoretical issues as well (Roeser et al. 2012).

Risk is usually defined as the product of the probability of an undesirable event and the effect of that event, although there are also other definitions around (Hansson 2004b). In general it seems desirable to keep technological risks as small as possible. The larger the risk, the larger either the likeliness or the impact of an undesirable event is. Risk reduction therefore is an important goal in technological development and engineering codes of ethics often attribute a responsibility to engineers in reducing risks and designing safe products. Still, risk reduction is not always feasible or desirable. It is sometimes not feasible, because there are no absolutely safe products and technologies. But even if risk reduction is feasible it may not be acceptable from a moral point of view. Reducing risk often comes at a cost. Safer products may be more difficult to use, more expensive or less sustainable. So sooner or later, one is confronted with the question: what is safe enough? What makes a risk (un)acceptable?

The process of dealing with risks is often divided into three stages: risk assessment, risk evaluation and risk management. Of these, the second is most obviously ethically relevant. However, risk assessment already involves value judgments, for example about which risks should be assessed in the first place (Shrader-Frechette 1991). An important, and morally relevant, issue is also the degree of evidence that is needed to establish a risk. In establishing a risk on the basis of a body of empirical data one might make two kinds of mistakes. One can establish a risk when there is actually none (type I error) or one can mistakenly conclude that there is no risk while there actually is a risk (type II error). Science traditionally aims at avoiding type I errors. Several authors have argued that in the specific context of risk assessment it is often more important to avoid type II errors (Cranor 1990; Shrader-Frechette 1991). The reason for this is that risk assessment not just aims at establishing scientific truth but has a practical aim, i.e., to provide the knowledge on basis of which decisions can be made about whether it is desirable to reduce or avoid certain technological risks in order to protect users or the public.

Risk evaluation is carried out in a number of ways (see, e.g., Shrader-Frechette 1985). One possible approach is to judge the acceptability of risks by comparing them to other risks or to certain standards. One could, for example, compare technological risks with naturally occurring risks. This approach, however, runs the danger of committing a naturalistic fallacy: naturally occurring risks may (sometimes) be unavoidable but that does not necessarily make them morally acceptable. More generally, it is often dubious to judge the acceptability of the risk of technology A by comparing it to the risk of technology B if A and B are not alternatives in a decision (for this and other fallacies in reasoning about risks, see Hansson 2004a).

A second approach to risk evaluation is risk-cost benefit analysis, which is based on weighing the risks against the benefits of an activity. Different decision criteria can be applied if a (risk) cost benefit analysis is carried out (Kneese, Ben-David, and Schulze 1983). According to Hansson (2003: 306), usually the following criterion is applied:

... a risk is acceptable if and only if the total benefits that the exposure gives rise to outweigh the total risks, measured as the probability-weighted disutility of outcomes.

A third approach is to base risk acceptance on the consent of people who suffer the risks after they have been informed about these risks (informed consent). A problem of this approach is that technological risks usually affect a large number of people at once. Informed consent may therefore lead to a "society of stalemates" (Hansson 2003: 300).

Several authors have proposed alternatives to the traditional approaches of risk evaluation on the basis of philosophical and ethical arguments. Shrader-Frechette (1991) has proposed a number of reforms in risk assessment and evaluation procedures on the basis of a philosophical critique of current practices. Roeser (2012) argues for a role of emotions in judging the acceptability of risks. Hansson has proposed the following alternative principle for risk evaluation:

Exposure of a person to a risk is acceptable if and only if this exposure is part of an equitable social system of risk-taking that works to her advantage. (Hansson 2003: 305)

Hansson's proposal introduces a number of moral considerations in risk evaluation that are traditionally not addressed or only marginally addressed. These are the consideration whether individuals profit from a risky activity and the consideration whether the distribution of risks and benefits is fair.

Questions about acceptable risk may also be framed in terms of risk imposition. The question is then under what conditions it is acceptable for some agent A to impose a risk on some other agent B. The criteria for acceptable risk imposition are in part similar to the ones discussed above. A risk imposition may, for example, be (more) acceptable if agent B gave their informed consent, or if the risky activity that generates the risk is beneficial for agent B. However, other considerations come in as well, like the relation between agent A and agent B. It might perhaps be acceptable for parents to impose certain risks on their children, while it would be improper for the government to impose such risks on children.

Risk impositions may particularly be problematic if they lead to domination or domination-like effects (Maheshwari and Nyholm 2022). Domination is here understood in the republican sense proposed by philosophers like Pettit (2012). Freedom from domination does not just require people to have different options to choose from, but also to be free from the (potential) arbitrary interference in the (availability of) these options by others. Non-domination thus requires that others do not have the power to arbitrary interfere with one's options (whether that power is exercised or not). Risk imposition may lead to domination (or at least dominating-like effects) if agent A (the risk imposer) by imposing a risk on agent B (the risk bearer) can arbitrary affect the range of safe options available to agent B.

Some authors have criticized the focus on risks in the ethics of technology. One strand of criticism argues that we often lack the knowledge to reliably assess the risks of a new technology before it has come into use. We often do not know the probability that something might go wrong, and sometimes we even do not know, or at least not fully, what might go wrong and what possible negative consequences may be. To deal with this, some authors have proposed to conceive of the introduction of new technology in society as a social experiment and have urged to think about the conditions under which such experiments are morally acceptable (Martin & Schinzinger 2022; van de Poel 2016). Another strand of criticism states that the focus on risks has led to a reduction of the impacts of technology that are considered (Swierstra & te Molder 2012). Only impacts related to safety and health, which can be calculated as risks, are considered, whereas 'soft' impacts, for example of a social or psychological nature, are neglected, thereby impoverishing the moral evaluation of new technologies.

Bibliography

Adams, Rachel, 2021, "Can artificial intelligence be decolonized?", Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, 46(1-2): 176-197. doi: 10.1080/03080188.2020.1840225.

Agricola, Georgius, 1556 [1912], De re metallica, Translated and edited by Herbert Clark Hoover and Lou Henry Hoover, London: The Mining Magazine, 1912. [Agricola 1556 [1912] available online]

Akrich, Madeleine, 1992, "The Description of Technical Objects", in Bijker and Law (eds) 1992: 205-224.

Allhoff, Fritz, Patrick Lin, James H. Moor and John Weckert (eds), 2007, Nanoethics: The Ethical and Social Implications of Nanotechnology, Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Interscience.

Anders, Günther, 1956, Die Antiquiertheit des Menschen (Volume I: Über die Seele im Zeitalter der zweiten industriellen Revolution; Volume II: Über die Zerstörung des Lebens im Zeitalter der dritten industriellen Revolution), München: C.H. Beck.

Arendt, Hannah, 1958, The Human Condition, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Ariew, Andrew, Robert Cummins and Mark Perlman (eds), 2002, Functions: New Essays in the Philosophy of Psychology and Biology, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Aristotle, Physics, Translated in The Complete Works of Aristotle, Volume 1, The Revised Oxford Translation 2014, edited by Jonathan Barnes.

Bacon, Francis, 1627, New Atlantis: A Worke Vnfinished, in hisSylva Sylvarum: or a Naturall Historie, in Ten Centuries, London: William Lee.

Baum, Robert J., 1980, Ethics and Engineering Curricula, Hastings-on-Hudson: The Hastings Center.

Beauchamp, Tom L., 2003, "The Nature of Applied Ethics", in Frey and Wellman (eds) 2003: 1-16. doi:10.1002/9780470996621.ch1

Beauchamp, Tom L., and James F. Childress, 2001, Principles of Biomedical Ethics, fifth edition, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Bechtel, William, 1985, "Attributing Responsibility to Computer Systems", Metaphilosophy, 16(4): 296-306. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9973.1985.tb00176.x

Bijker, Wiebe E., and John Law (eds), 1992, Shaping Technology/Building Society: Studies in Sociotechnical Change, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Bimber, Bruce, 1990, "Karl Marx and the Three Faces of Technological Determinism", Social Studies of Science, 20(2): 333-351. doi:10.1177/030631290020002006

Borgmann, Albert, 1984, Technology and the Character of Contemporary Life: A Philosophical Inquiry, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press.

Bostrom, Nick, and Eliezer Yudkowsky, 2014, "The Ethics of Artificial Intelligence", in The Cambridge Handbook of Artificial Intelligence, edited by Keith Frankish and William M Ramsey, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 316-334. doi:10.1017/CBO9781139046855.020

Brey, Philip A.E., 2012, "Anticipatory Ethics for Emerging Technologies", NanoEthics, 6(1): 1-13. doi:10.1007/s11569-012-0141-7

Briffault, R., 1930, Rational Evolution (The Making of Humanity), New York: The Macmillan Company.

Bucciarelli, Louis L., 1994, Designing Engineers, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Bunge, Mario, 1966, "Technology as Applied Science", Technology and Culture, 7(3): 329-347. doi:10.2307/3101932

Butler, Samuel, 1872, Erewhon, London: Trubner and Co. [Butler 1872 available online]

Callon, Michel, 1986, "The Sociology of an Actor-Network: the Case of the Electric Vehicle", in Mapping the Dynamics of Science and Technology: Sociology of Science in the Real World, Michel Callon, John Law and Arie Rip (eds.), London: Macmillan, pp. 19-34.

Caney, Simon, 2014, "Two Kinds of Climate Justice: Avoiding Harm and Sharing Burdens", Journal of Political Philosophy 22(2): 125-149. doi:10.1111/jopp.12030

Coeckelbergh, Mark, 2014, "The Moral Standing of Machines: Towards a Relational and Non-Cartesian Moral Hermeneutics", Philosophy & Technology 27(1): 61-77. doi: 10.1007/s13347-013-0133-8.

---, 2020a, Introduction to Philosophy of Technology, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2020b, AI Ethics, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

---, 2022, The Political Philosophy of AI: An Introduction, Cambridge: Polity.

Cranor, Carl F., 1990, "Some Moral Issues in Risk Assessment", Ethics, 101(1): 123-143. doi:10.1086/293263

Danaher, John, 2016, "Robots, Law and the Retribution Gap", Ethics and Information Technology 18(4): 299-309. doi: 10.1007/s10676-016-9403-3.

---, 2020, "Welcoming Robots into the Moral Circle: A Defence of Ethical Behaviourism", Science and Engineering Ethics 26(4): 2023-2049. doi: 10.1007/s11948-019-00119-x.

Darwin, Charles R., 1859, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life, London: John Murray.

Davis, Michael, 1998, Thinking Like an Engineer: Studies in the Ethics of a Profession, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2005, Engineering Ethics, Aldershot/Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

---, 2012, "'Ain't No One Here But Us Social Forces': Constructing the Professional Responsibility of Engineers", Science and Engineering Ethics, 18(1): 13-34. doi:10.1007/s11948-010-9225-3

Dennett, Daniel C., 1997, "When HAL kills, who's to blame? Computer ethics", in HAL's Legacy: 2001's Computer as Dream and Reality, edited by David G. Stork. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 351-365.

Di Nucci, Ezio, and Filippo Santoni de Sio, 2016, Drones and Responsibility: Legal, Philosophical and Socio-Technical Perspectives on Remotely Controlled Weapons, Milton Park: Routledge.

Diels, Hermann, 1903, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, Berlin: Weidmann.

Dipert, Randall R., 1993, Artifacts, Art Works, and Agency, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Doorn, Neelke, 2010, "A Rawlsian Approach to Distribute Responsibilities in Networks", Science and Engineering Ethics, 16(2): 221-249. doi:10.1007/s11948-009-9155-0

---, 2012, "Responsibility Ascriptions in Technology Development and Engineering: Three Perspectives", Science and Engineering Ethics, 18(1): 69-90. doi:10.1007/s11948-009-9189-3

Ellul, Jacques, 1954 [1964], La technique ou L'enjeu du siècle, Paris: Armand Colin. Translated as The Technological Society, by John Wilkinson, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1964.

Erlandson, Robert F., 2008, Universal and Accessible Design for Products, Services, and Processes, Boca Raton, LA: CRC Press.

Feenberg, Andrew, 1999, Questioning Technology, London and New York: Routledge.

Finnis, John, Joseph Boyle and Germain Grisez, 1988, Nuclear Deterrence, Morality and Realism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Floridi, Luciano, 2010, The Cambridge Handbook of Information and Computer Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511845239

Floridi, Luciano, and J.W. Sanders, 2004, "On the Morality of Artificial Agents", Minds and Machines, 14(3): 349-379. doi:10.1023/B:MIND.0000035461.63578.9d

Fox, Warwick, 2000, Ethics and the Built Environment, (Professional Ethics), London and New York: Routledge.

Franssen, Maarten, 2005, "Arrow's Theorem, Multi-Criteria Decision Problems and Multi-Attribute Preferences in Engineering Design", Research in Engineering Design, 16(1-2): 42-56. doi:10.1007/s00163-004-0057-5

Franssen, Maarten, and Louis L. Bucciarelli, 2004, "On Rationality in Engineering Design", Journal of Mechanical Design, 126(6): 945-949. doi:10.1115/1.1803850

Franssen, Maarten, and Stefan Koller, 2016, "Philosophy of Technology as a Serious Branch of Philosophy: The Empirical Turn as a Starting Point", in Philosophy of Technology after the Empirical Turn, edited by Maarten Franssen, Pieter E. Vermaas, Peter Kroes, and Anthonie W.M. Meijers, Cham: Springer, 31-61. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-33717-3_3

Franssen, Maarten, Peter Kroes, Thomas A.C. Reydon and Pieter E. Vermaas (eds), 2014, Artefact Kinds: Ontology and the Human-Made World, Heidelberg/New York/Dordrecht/London: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-00801-1

Fraser, Nancy, and Axel Honneth, 2003, Redistribution or Recognition?: A Political-Philosophical Exchange, London and New York: Verso.

Freeman, K., 1948, Ancilla to the Pre-Socratic Philosophers (A complete translation of the Fragments in Diels, Fragmente der Vorsokratiker), Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Frey, R. G., and Christopher Heath Wellman (eds), 2003, A Companion to Applied Ethics, Oxford and Malden, MA: Blackwell. doi:10.1002/9780470996621

Friedman, Batya, and David Hendry, 2019, Value Sensitive Design: Shaping Technology with Moral Imagination, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Garson, Justin, 2016, A Critical Overview of Biological Functions, (SpringerBriefs in Philosophy), Cham: Springer International Publishing. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-32020-5.

Gehlen, Arnold, 1957, Die Seele im technischen Zeitalter, Hamburg: Rowohlt. Translated asMan in the Age of Technology, by Patricia Lipscomb, New York: Columbia University Press, 1980.

Gunkel, David J., 2018, Robot Rights, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Habermas, Jürgen, 1968 [1970], "Technik und Wissenschaft als 'Ideologie'" in an an anthology of the same name, Frankfurt: Suhrkamp Verlag. Translated as "Technology and Science as 'Ideology'", in Toward a Rational Society: Student Protest, Science, and Politics, by Jeremy J. Shapiro, Boston, MA: Beacon Press, pp. 81-122.

Hansson, Sven Ove, 2003, "Ethical Criteria of Risk Acceptance", Erkenntnis, 59(3): 291-309. doi:10.1023/A:1026005915919

---, 2004a, "Fallacies of Risk", Journal of Risk Research, 7(3): 353-360. doi:10.1080/1366987042000176262

---, 2004b, "Philosophical Perspectives on Risk", Techné, 8(1): 10-35. doi:10.5840/techne2004818

---, 2007, "Philosophical Problems in Cost-Benefit Analysis", Economics and Philosophy, 23(2): 163-183. doi:10.1017/S0266267107001356

Harris, Charles E., Michael S. Pritchard and Michael J. Rabins, 2014, Engineering Ethics: Concepts and Cases, fifth edition, Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.

Heidegger, Martin, 1954 [1977], "Die Frage nach der Technik", in Vorträge und Aufsätze, Pfullingen: Günther Neske. Translated as "The Question concerning Technology", inThe Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays, by William Lovitt, New York: Harper and Row, 1977, pp. 3-35.

Herkert, Joseph R., 2001, "Future Directions in Engineering Ethics Research: Microethics, Macroethics and the Role of Professional Societies", Science and Engineering Ethics, 7(3): 403-414. doi:10.1007/s11948-001-0062-2

Hilpinen, Risto, 1992, "Artifacts and Works of Art", Theoria, 58(1): 58-82. doi:10.1111/j.1755-2567.1992.tb01155.x

Holt, Raymond, and Catherine Barnes, 2010, "Towards an Integrated Approach to 'Design for X': An Agenda for Decision-Based DFX Research", Research in Engineering Design, 21(2): 123-136. doi:10.1007/s00163-009-0081-6

Horkheimer, Max, and Theodor W. Adorno, 1947 [2002], Dialektik der Aufklärung: Philosophische Fragmente, Amsterdam: Querido Verlag. Translated asDialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments, by Edmund Jephcott, and edited by Gunzelin Schmid Noerr, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2002.

Houkes, Wybo, 2009, "The Nature of Technological Knowledge", in Meijers 2009: 309-350. doi:10.1016/B978-0-444-51667-1.50016-1

Houkes, Wybo, and Pieter E. Vermaas, 2010, Technical Functions: On the Use and Design of Artefacts, Dordrecht/Heidelberg/London /New York: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-90-481-3900-2

Hughes, Jesse, Peter Kroes, and Sjoerd Zwart, 2007, "A Semantics for Means-End Relations", Synthese, 158(2): 207-231. doi:10.1007/s11229-006-9036-x

Ihde, Don, 1979, Technics and Praxis, Dordrecht/Boston/Lancaster: D. Reidel.

---, 1990, Technology and the Lifeworld: from Garden to Earth, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

---, 1993, Philosophy of Technology: An Introduction, New York: Paragon.

Ihde, Don, and Evan Selinger, 2003, Chasing Technoscience: Matrix for Materiality, Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Illies, Christian, and Anthonie Meijers, 2009, "Artefacts Without Agency", The Monist, 92(3): 420-440. doi:10.5840/monist200992324

Jarvie, Ian C., 1966, "The Social Character of Technological Problems: Comments on Skolimowski's Paper", Technology and Culture, 7(3): 384-390. doi:10.2307/3101936

Jenkins, Kirsten, Darren McCauley, Raphael Heffron, Hannes Stephan and Robert Rehner, 2016, "Energy Justice: A Conceptual Review", Energy Research & Social Science 11: 174-182. doi:10.1016/j.erss.2015.10.004

Johnson, Deborah G., 2003, "Computer Ethics", in Frey and Wellman 2003: 608-619. doi:10.1002/9780470996621.ch45

---, 2006, "Computer Systems: Moral Entities But Not Moral Agents", Ethics and Information Technology, 8(4): 195-205. doi:10.1007/s10676-006-9111-5

---, 2009, Computer Ethics, fourth edition. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.

Johnson, Deborah G., and Thomas M. Powers, 2005, "Computer Systems and Responsibility: A Normative Look at Technological Complexity", Ethics and Information Technology, 7(2): 99-107. doi:10.1007/s10676-005-4585-0

Jonas, Hans, 1979 [1984], Das Prinzip Verantwortung: Versuch einer Ethik für die technologische Zivilisation, Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp; extended English editionThe Imperative of Responsibility: in Search of An Ethics for the Technological Age, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1984.

Kaplan, David M. (ed.), 2004 [2009], Readings in the Philosophy of Technology, Lanham, MD and Oxford: Rowman and Littlefield, first edition 2004, second revised edition 2009.

Kapp, Ernst, 1877 [2018], Grundlinien Einer Philosophie Der Technik: Zur Entstehungsgeschichte Der Cultur Aus Neuen Gesichtspunkten, Braunschweig: Westermann [Kapp 1877 available online]. Translated asElements of a Philosophy of Technology: On the Evolutionary History of Culture, by Lauren K. Wolfe, and edited by Jeffrey West Kirkwood and Leif Weatherby, Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2018.

Kitcher, Philip, 2001, Science, Truth, and Democracy, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2011. The Ethical Project, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Klenk, Michael, 2021, "How Do Technological Artefacts Embody Moral Values?", Philosophy & Technology 34(3): 525-544. doi: 10.1007/s13347-020-00401-y.

Kneese, Allen V., Shaul Ben-David and William D. Schulze, 1983, "The Ethical Foundations of Benefit-Cost Analysis", in Energy and the Future, edited by Douglas E. MacLean and Peter G. Brown, Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littefield, pp. 59-74.

Kotarbinski, Tadeusz, 1965, Praxiology: An Introduction to the Sciences of Efficient Action, Oxford: Pergamon Press.

Kroes, Peter, 2012, Technical Artefacts: Creations of Mind and Matter, Dordrecht/Heidelberg/New York/London: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-3940-6

Kroes, Peter, and Anthonie Meijers (eds), 2006, "The Dual Nature of Technical Artifacts", Special issue of Studies in History and Philosophy of Science, 37(1): 1-158. doi:10.1016/j.shpsa.2005.12.001

Kroes, Peter, Maarten Franssen and Louis Bucciarelli, 2009, "Rationality in Design", in Meijers (ed.) 2009: 565-600. doi:10.1016/B978-0-444-51667-1.50025-2

Kroes, Peter, and Peter-Paul Verbeek (eds), 2014, The Moral Status of Technical Artefacts, Dordrecht: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-7914-3

Kuhn, Thomas S., 1962, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Ladd, John, 1991, "Bhopal: An Essay on Moral Responsibility and Civic Virtue", Journal of Social Philosophy, 22(1): 73-91. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9833.1991.tb00022.x

Latour, Bruno, 1992, "Where Are the Missing Masses?", in Bijker and Law (eds) 1992: 225-258.

---, 1993, We Have Never Been Modern, New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf.

---, 2005, Reassembling the Social: An Introduction to Actor-Network-Theory, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Lawson, Clive, 2008, "An Ontology of Technology: Artefacts, Relations and Functions", Technè, 12(1): 48-64. doi:10.5840/techne200812114

---, 2017, Technology and Isolation, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/9781316848319

Lin, Patrick, Keith Abney and Ryan Jenkins (eds), 2017, Robot Ethics 2.0: From Autonomous Cars to Artificial Intelligence, Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press.

Lloyd, G.E.R., 1973, "Analogy in Early Greek Thought", in The Dictionary of the History of Ideas, edited by Philip P. Wiener, New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, vol. 1 pp. 60-64. [Lloyd 1973 available online]

Lloyd, Peter A., and Jerry A. Busby, 2003, "'Things that Went Well-No Serious Injuries or Deaths': Ethical Reasoning in a Normal Engineering Design Process", Science and Engineering Ethics, 9(4): 503-516. doi:10.1007/s11948-003-0047-4

Longino, Helen, 1990, Science as Social Knowledge: Values and Objectivity in Scientific Inquiry, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

---, 2002, The Fate of Knowledge, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Maheshwari, Kritika, and Sven Nyholm, 2022, "Dominating Risk Impositions", The Journal of Ethics. doi: 10.1007/s10892-022-09407-4.

Mahner, Martin, and Mario Bunge, 2001, "Function and Functionalism: A Synthetic Perspective", Philosophy of Science, 68(1): 73-94. doi:10.1086/392867

Marcuse, Herbert, 1964, One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society, New York: Beacon Press, and London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Martin, Miles W., and Roland Schinzinger, 2022, Ethics in Engineering, fifth edition, Boston, MA: McGraw-Hill.

Matthias, Andreas, 2004, "The Responsibility Gap: Ascribing Responsibility for the Actions of Learning Automata", Ethics and Information Technology 6(3): 175-183. doi: 10.1007/s10676-004-3422-1.

McGinn, Robert E., 2010, "What's Different, Ethically, About Nanotechnology? Foundational Questions and Answers", NanoEthics, 4(2): 115-128. doi:10.1007/s11569-010-0089-4

Meijers, Anthonie (ed.), 2009, Philosophy of Technology and Engineering Sciences, (Handbook of the Philosophy of Science, volume 9), Amsterdam: North-Holland.

Michelfelder, Diane P., and Neelke Doorn (eds), 2021, The Routledge Handbook of the Philosophy of Engineering, New York and Milton Park, UK: Routledge.

Miller, Boaz, 2020, "Is Technology Value-Neutral?", Science, Technology & Human Values 46(1): 53-80. doi: 10.1177/0162243919900965.

Millikan, Ruth Garrett, 1999, "Wings, Spoons, Pills, and Quills: A Pluralist Theory of Function", The Journal of Philosophy, 96(4): 191-206. doi:10.5840/jphil199996428

Mitcham, Carl, 1994, Thinking Through Technology: The Path Between Engineering and Philosophy, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Mittelstadt, Brent Daniel, Patrick Allo, Mariarosaria Taddeo, Sandra Wachter and Luciano Floridi, 2016, "The Ethics of Algorithms: Mapping the Debate", Big Data & Society, 3(2): 1-21. doi:10.1177/2053951716679679

Moor, James H., 1985, "What is Computer Ethics?" Metaphilosophy, 16(4): 266-275. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9973.1985.tb00173.x

---, 2006, "The Nature, Importance, and Difficulty of Machine Ethics", IEEE Intelligent Systems, 21(4): 18-21. doi:10.1109/MIS.2006.80

Mosakas, Kestutis, 2021, "On the Moral Status of Social Robots: Considering the Consciousness Criterion", AI & Society 36(2): 429-443. doi: 10.1007/s00146-020-01002-1.

Mumford, Lewis, 1934, Technics and Civilization, New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, and London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Newman, William R., 2004, Promethean Ambitions: Alchemy and the Quest to Perfect Nature, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Niiniluoto, Ilkka, 1993, "The Aim and Structure of Applied Research", Erkenntnis, 38(1): 1-21. doi:10.1007/BF01129020

Nissenbaum, Helen, 1996, "Accountability in a Computerized Society", Science and Engineering Ethics, 2(1): 25-42. doi:10.1007/BF02639315

---, 2010, Privacy in Context: Technology, Policy, and the Integrity of Social Life, Stanford, CA: Stanford Law Books.

Nyholm, Sven, 2018, "Attributing Agency to Automated Systems: Reflections on Human-Robot Collaborations and Responsibility-Loci", Science and Engineering Ethics 24(4): 1201-1219. doi: 10.1007/s11948-017-9943-x.

Olsen, Jan Kyrre Berg, Evan Selinger and Søren Riis (eds), 2009, New Waves in Philosophy of Technology, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan. doi:10.1057/9780230227279

Owen, Richard, John Bessant, and Maggy Heintz, 2013, Responsible Innovation: Managing the Responsible Emergence of Science and Innovation in Society, Chichester: John Wiley. doi:10.1002/9781118551424

Peterson, Martin, 2020, Ethics for Engineers, New York: Oxford University Press.

Peterson, Martin, and Andreas Spahn, 2011, "Can Technological Artefacts be Moral Agents?" Science and Engineering Ethics, 17(3): 411-424. doi:10.1007/s11948-010-9241-3

Pettit, Philip, 2012, On the People's Terms: A Republican Theory and Model of Democracy, The Seeley lectures, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press.

Pitt, Joseph C., 1999, Thinking About Technology: Foundations of the Philosophy of Technology, New York: Seven Bridges Press.

Plato, Laws, 2016, M. Schofield (ed.), T. Griffith (tr.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, Timaeus and Critias, 2008, R. Waterfield (tr.), with introduction and notes by A. Gregory, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Polanyi, Michael, 1958, Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Preston, Beth, 1998, "Why is a Wing Like a Spoon? A Pluralist Theory of Function", The Journal of Philosophy, 95(5): 215-254. doi:10.2307/2564689

---, 2003, "Of Marigold Beer: A Reply to Vermaas and Houkes", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 54(4): 601-612. doi:10.1093/bjps/54.4.601

---, 2012, A Philosophy of Material Culture: Action, Function, and Mind, New York and Milton Park, UK: Routledge.

Preston, Christopher J. (ed.), 2016, Climate Justice and Geoengineering: Ethics and Policy in the Atmospheric Anthropocene, London/New York: Rowman & Littlefield International.

Radder, Hans, 2009, "Why Technologies Are Inherently Normative", in Meijers (ed.) 2009: 887-921. doi:10.1016/B978-0-444-51667-1.50037-9

Rawls, John, 1999, A Theory of Justice, Revised Edition, Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

Roeser, Sabine, 2012, "Moral Emotions as Guide to Acceptable Risk", in Roeser et al. 2012: 819-832. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-1433-5_32

Roeser, Sabine, Rafaela Hillerbrand, Per Sandin and Martin Peterson (eds), 2012, Handbook of Risk Theory: Epistemology, Decision Theory, Ethics, and Social Implications of Risk, Dordrecht/Heidelberg/London/New York: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-1433-5

Ryle, Gilbert, 1949, The Concept of Mind, London: Hutchinson.

Santoni de Sio, Filippo, and Giulio Mecacci, 2021, "Four Responsibility Gaps with Artificial Intelligence: Why they Matter and How to Address them", Philosophy & Technology 34(4): 1057-1084. doi: 10.1007/s13347-021-00450-x.

Santoni de Sio, Filippo, and Jeroen van den Hoven, 2018. "Meaningful Human Control over Autonomous Systems: A Philosophical Account", Frontiers in Robotics and AI. doi: 10.3389/frobt.2018.00015.

Scharff, Robert C., and Val Dusek (eds), 2003 [2014], Philosophy of Technology: The Technological Condition, Malden, MA and Oxford: Blackwell, first edition 2003, second [revised] edition 2014.

Schummer, Joachim, 2001, "Aristotle on Technology and Nature", Philosophia Naturalis, 38: 105-120.

Sclove, Richard E., 1995, Democracy and Technology, New York: The Guilford Press.

Sellars, Wilfrid, 1962, "Philosophy and the Scientific Image of Man", in Frontiers of Science and Philosophy, edited by R. Colodny, Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, pp. 35-78.

Sharkey, Amanda, and Noel Sharkey, 2021, "We Need to Talk about Deception in Social Robotics!", Ethics and Information Technology 23(3): 309-316. doi: 10.1007/s10676-020-09573-9.

Sherlock, Richard, and John D. Morrey (eds), 2002, Ethical Issues in Biotechnology, Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.

Shrader-Frechette, Kristen S., 1985, Risk Analysis and Scientific Method: Methodological and Ethical Problems with Evaluating Societal Hazards, Dordrecht and Boston: D. Reidel.

---, 1991, Risk and Rationality: Philosophical Foundations for Populist Reform, Berkeley etc.: University of California Press.

Simon, Herbert A., 1957, Models of Man, Social and Rational: Mathematical Essays on Rational Human Behavior in a Social Setting, New York: John Wiley.

---, 1969, The Sciences of the Artificial, Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press.

---, 1982, Models of Bounded Rationality, Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press.

Skolimowski, Henryk, 1966, "The Structure of Thinking in Technology", Technology and Culture, 7(3): 371-383. doi:10.2307/3101935

Snapper, John W., 1985, "Responsibility for Computer-Based Errors", Metaphilosophy, 16(4): 289-295. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9973.1985.tb00175.x

Soavi, Marzia, 2009, "Realism and Artifact Kinds", in Functions in Biological and Artificial Worlds: Comparative Philosophical Perspectives, edited by Ulrich Krohs and Peter Kroes. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 185-202. doi:10.7551/mitpress/9780262113212.003.0011

Sparrow, Robert, 2007, "Killer Robots", Journal of Applied Philosophy 24(1): 62-77. doi:10.1111/j.1468-5930.2007.00346.x

Suh, Nam Pyo, 2001, Axiomatic Design: Advances and Applications, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

Susskind, Jamie, 2022, The Digital Republic: On Freedom and Democracy in the 21st Century, London: Bloomsbury.

Swierstra, Tsjalling, and Jaap Jelsma, 2006, "Responsibility Without Moralism in Technoscientific Design Practice", Science, Technology & Human Values, 31(1): 309-332. doi:10.1177/0162243905285844

Swierstra, Tsjalling, and Hedwig te Molder, 2012, "Risk and Soft Impacts", in Roeser et al. (eds) 2012: 1049-1066. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-1433-5_42

Taebi, Behnam, 2021, Ethics and Engineering: An Introduction, Cambridge Applied Ethics series, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press.

Taebi, Behnam, and Sabine Roeser (eds), 2015, The Ethics of Nuclear Energy: Risk, Justice, and Democracy in the Post-Fukushima Era, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9781107294905

Tavani, Herman T., 2002, "The Uniqueness Debate in Computer Ethics: What Exactly is at Issue, and Why Does it Matter?" Ethics and Information Technology, 4(1): 37-54. doi:10.1023/A:1015283808882

Thomasson, Amie L., 2003, "Realism and Human Kinds", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 67(3): 580-609. doi:10.1111/j.1933-1592.2003.tb00309.x

---, 2007, "Artifacts and Human Concepts", in Creations of the Mind: Essays on Artifacts and Their Representation, edited by Eric Margolis and Stephen Laurence, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 52-73.

Thompson, Dennis F., 1980, "Moral Responsibility and Public Officials: The Problem of Many Hands", American Political Science Review, 74(4): 905-916. doi:10.2307/1954312

Thompson, Paul B., 2007, Food Biotechnology in Ethical Perspective, second edition, Dordrecht: Springer. doi:10.1007/1-4020-5791-1

Vallor, Shannon (ed.), 2022, The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Technology, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press.

van den Hoven, Jeroen, and John Weckert (eds), 2008, Information Technology and Moral Philosophy, Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press.

van den Hoven, Jeroen, Pieter E. Vermaas and Ibo van de Poel (eds), 2015, Handbook of Ethics and Values in Technological Design: Sources, Theory, Values and Application Domains, Dordrecht: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-6994-6

van de Poel, Ibo, 2009, "Values in Engineering Design", in Meijers (ed.) 2009: 973-1006. doi:10.1016/B978-0-444-51667-1.50040-9

---, 2016, "An Ethical Framework for Evaluating Experimental Technology", Science and Engineering Ethics, 22(3): 667-686. doi:10.1007/s11948-015-9724-3

van de Poel, Ibo, and Lambèr Royakkers, 2011, Ethics, Technology and Engineering, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.

van de Poel, Ibo, Lambèr Royakkers and Sjoerd D. Zwart, 2015, Moral Responsibility and the Problem of Many Hands, London: Routledge.

van der Pot, Johan Hendrik Jacob, 1985 [1994/2004], Die Bewertung des technischen Fortschritts: eine systematische Übersicht der Theorien, 2 volumes, Assen/Maastricht: Van Gorcum. Translated asSteward or Sorcerer's Apprentice? the Evaluation of Technical Progress: A Systematic Overview of Theories and Opinions, by Chris Turner, 2 volumes., Delft: Eburon, 1994, second edition, 2004, under the titleEncyclopedia of Technological Progress: A Systematic Overview of Theories and Opinions.

van Wynsberghe, Aimee, and Scott Robbins, 2019, "Critiquing the Reasons for Making Artificial Moral Agents", Science and Engineering Ethics 25(3): 719-735. doi: 10.1007/s11948-018-0030-8.

Verbeek, Peter-Paul, 2000 [2005], De daadkracht der Dingen: Over Techniek, Filosofie En Vormgeving, Amsterdam: Boom. Translated asWhat Things Do: Philosophical Reflections on Technology, Agency, and Design, by Robert P. Crease, University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2005.

---, 2011, Moralizing Technology: Understanding and Designing the Morality of Things, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press.

Vermaas, Pieter E., and Wybo Houkes, 2003, "Ascribing Functions to Technical Artefacts: A Challenge to Etiological Accounts of Functions", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 54(2): 261-289. doi:10.1093/bjps/54.2.261

Vincenti, Walter A., 1990, What Engineers Know and How They Know It: Analytical Studies from Aeronautical History, Baltimore, MD and London: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Vitruvius, De architecture, translated as The Ten Books on Architecture, by Morris H. Morgan. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1914. [Vitruvius Morgan's translation 1914 available online]

Volti, Rudi, 2009, Society and Technological Change, sixth edition, New York: Worth Publications.

Von Wright, Georg Henrik, 1963, Norm and Action: A Logical Enquiry, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Wallach, Wendell, and Colin Allen, 2009, Moral Machines: Teaching Robots Right from Wrong, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195374049.001.0001

Weckert, John, 2007, Computer Ethics, Aldershot and Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Wiggins, David, 1980, Sameness and Substance, Oxford: Blackwell.

Winner, Langdon, 1977, Autonomous Technology: Technics-out-of-Control as a Theme in Political Thought, Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press.

---, 1980, "Do Artifacts Have Politics?" Daedalus, 109(1): 121-136.

---, 1983, "Techné and Politeia: The Technical Constitution of Society", in Philosophy and Technology, edited by Paul T. Durbin and Friedrich Rapp, Dordrecht/Boston/Lancaster: D. Reidel, pp. 97-111. doi:10.1007/978-94-009-7124-0_7

Zandvoort, H., 2000, "Codes of Conduct, the Law, and Technological Design and Development", in The Empirical Turn in the Philosophy of Technology, edited by Peter Kroes and Anthonie Meijers, Amsterdam: JAI/Elsevier, pp. 193-205.

Zuboff, Shoshana, 2017, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, New York: Public Affairs.

Zwart, Sjoerd, Maarten Franssen and Peter Kroes, 2018, "Practical Inference-A Formal Approach", in The Future of Engineering: Philosophical Foundations, Ethical Problems and Application Cases, edited by Albrecht Fritzsche and Sascha Julian Oks, Cham: Springer, pp. 33-52. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-91029-1_3

Zwart, Sjoerd, Ibo van de Poel, Harald van Mil and Michiel Brumsen, 2006, "A Network Approach for Distinguishing Ethical Issues in Research and Development", Science and Engineering Ethics, 12(4): 663-684. doi:10.1007/s11948-006-0063-2

Journals

Encyclopedias

Encyclopedia of Science, Technology, and Ethics, 4 volumes, Carl Mitcham (ed.), Macmillan, 2005.

Encyclopedia of Applied Ethics, second edition, 4 volumes, Ruth Chadwick (editor-in-chief), Elsevier, 2012.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Philosophical reflection on technology is about as old as philosophy itself. Our oldest testimony is from ancient Greece. There are four prominent themes. One early theme is the thesis that technology learns from or imitates nature (Plato, Laws X 899a ff.).

# data[].attributes.body
This paper questions whether artifacts, i.e. things designed by humans, have embedded values or politics in them to influence other people and their behaviour.

# data[].attributes.body
This paper explores the development and impact of technology from ancient Greek philosophy to modern times, examining how technology has shaped societies, the differences in philosophical approaches to technology, and the contemporary debates about its role, autonomy, and values.

# data[].attributes.body
This article discusses how the integration of computing and technological artifacts into human actions complicates traditional notions of moral responsibility, highlighting the challenges of attributing responsibility in a technologically advanced society and the need to reconsider traditional conceptions of moral agency and responsibility.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Moral responsibility is about human action and its intentions and consequences (Fisher 1999, Eshleman 2016, Talbert 2022). Generally speaking a person or a group of people is morally responsible when their voluntary actions have morally significant outcomes that would make it appropriate to blame or praise them. Thus, we may consider it a person's moral responsibility to jump in the water and try to rescue another person, when she sees that person drowning. If she manages to pull the person from the water we are likely to praise her, whereas if she refuses to help we may blame her. Ascribing moral responsibility establishes a link between a person or a group of people and someone or something affected by the actions of this person or group. The person or group that performs the action and causes something to happen is often referred to as the agent. The person, group or thing that is affected by the action is referred to as the patient. Establishing a link in terms of moral responsibility between the agent and the patient can be done both retrospectively as well as prospectively. That is, sometimes ascriptions of responsibility involve giving an account of who was at fault for an accident and who should be punished. It can also be about prospectively determining the obligations and duties a person has to fulfill in the future and what she ought to do.

However, the circumstances under which it is appropriate to ascribe moral responsibility are not always clear. On the one hand the concept has varying meanings and debates continue on what sets moral responsibility apart from other kinds of responsibility (Hart 1968, Talbert 2022, Tigard 2021a). The concept is intertwined and sometimes overlaps with notions of accountability, liability, blameworthiness, role-responsibility and causality. Opinions also differ on which conditions warrant the attribution of moral responsibility; whether it requires an agent with free will or not and whether humans are the only entities to which moral responsibility can be attributed (see the entry on moral responsibility).

On the other hand, it can be difficult to establish a direct link between the agent and the patient because of the complexity involved in human activity, in particular in today's technological society. Individuals and institutions generally act with and in sociotechnical systems in which tasks are distributed among human and technological components, which mutually affect each other in different ways depending on the context (Bijker, Hughes and Pinch 1987, Felt et al. 2016). Increasingly complex technologies can exacerbate the difficulty of identifying who or what is 'responsible'. When something goes wrong, a retrospective account of what happened is expected and the more complex the system, the more challenging is the task of ascribing responsibility (Johnson and Powers 2005). Indeed, Matthias argues that there is a growing 'responsibility gap': the more complex computer technologies become and the less human beings can directly control or intervene in the behavior of these technologies, the less we can reasonably hold human beings responsible for these technologies (Matthias, 2004).

The increasing pervasiveness of computer technologies poses various challenges to figuring out what moral responsibility entails and how it should be properly ascribed. To explain how computing complicates the ascription of responsibility we have to consider the conditions under which it makes sense to hold someone responsible. Despite the ongoing philosophical debates on the issue, most analysis of moral responsibility share at least the following three conditions (Eshleman 2016; Jonas 1984):

1. There should be a causal connection between the person and the outcome of actions. A person is usually only held responsible if they had some control over the outcome of events.

2. The subject has to have knowledge of and be able to consider the possible consequences of her actions. We tend to excuse someone from blame if they could not have known that their actions would lead to a harmful event.

3. The subject has to be able to freely choose to act in certain way. That is, it does not make sense to hold someone responsible for a harmful event if her actions were completely determined by outside forces.

A closer look at these three conditions shows that computing can complicate the applicability of each of these conditions.

In order for a person to be held morally responsible for a particular event, she has to be able to exert some kind of influence on that event. It does not make sense to blame someone for an accident if she could not have avoided it by acting differently or if she had no control over the events leading up to the accident.

However, computer technologies can obscure the causal connections between a person's actions and the eventual consequences. Tracing the sequence of events that led to a computer-related catastrophic incident, such as a plane crash, usually leads in many directions, as such incidents are seldom the result of a single error or mishap. Technological accidents are commonly the product of an accumulation of mistakes, misunderstanding or negligent behavior of various individuals involved in the development, use and maintenance of computer systems, including designers, engineers, technicians, regulators, managers, users, manufacturers, sellers, resellers and even policy makers.

The involvement of multiple actors in the development and deployment of technologies gives rise to what is known as the problem of 'many hands': it is difficult to determine who was responsible for what when multiple individuals contributed to the outcome of events (Jonas 1984; Friedman 1990; Nissenbaum 1994; van de Poel et al. 2015). One classic example of the problem of many hands in computing is the case of the malfunctioning radiation treatment machine Therac-25 (Leveson and Turner 1993; Leveson 1995). This computer-controlled machine was designed for the radiation treatment of cancer patients as well as for X-rays. During a two-year period in the 1980s the machine massively overdosed six patients, contributing to the eventual death of three of them. These incidents were the result of the combination of a number of factors, including software errors, inadequate testing and quality assurance, exaggerated claims about the reliability, bad interface design, overconfidence in software design, and inadequate investigation or follow-up on accident reports. Nevertheless, in their analysis of the events Leveson and Turner conclude that it is hard to place the blame on a single person. The actions or negligence of all those involved might not have proven fatal were it not for the other contributing events. A more recent example of the problem of many hands is the crash of two 737 MAX passenger aircraft in late 2018 and early 2019. These crashes led to mulitple investigations that highlighted various factors that contributed to the tragic outcome, include design and human errors as well as organizational culture and lack of training (Heckert et al 2020). This is not to say that there is no moral responsibility in these case (Nissenbaum 1994; Gotterbarn 2001; Coeckelbergh 2012; Floridi 2013, Santonio De Sio et al, 2021), as many actors could have acted differently, but it makes it more difficult to retrospectively identify the appropriate person that can be called upon to answer and make amends for the outcome.

Adding to the problem of many hands is the temporal and physical distance that computing creates between a person and the consequences of her actions, as this distance can blur the causal connection between actions and events (Friedman 1990). Computational technologies extend the reach of human activity through time and space. With the help of social media and communication technologies people can interact with others on the other side of the world. Satellites and advanced communication technologies allow pilots to fly a remotely controlled drone from their ground-control station half way across the world. These technologies enable people to act over greater distances, but this remoteness can dissociate the original actions from its eventual consequences (Waelbers 2009; Polder-Verkiel 2012; Coeckelbergh 2013). When a person uses a technological artifact to perform an action thousands of miles a way, that person might not know the people that will be affected and she might not directly, or only partially, experience the consequences. This can reduce the sense of responsibility the person feels and it may interfere with her ability to fully comprehend the significance of her actions. Similarly, the designers of an automated decision-making system determine ahead of time how decisions should be made, but they will rarely see how these decisions will impact the individuals they affect. Their original actions in programming the system may have effects on people years later.

The problem of many hands and the distancing effects of the use of technology illustrate the mediating role of technological artifacts in the confusion about moral responsibility. Technological artifacts bring together the various different intentions of their creators and users. People create and deploy technologies with the objective of producing some effect in the world. Software developers develop an automated content moderation tool, often at the request of their managers or clients, with the aim of shielding particular content from users and influencing what these users can or cannot read. The software has inscribed in its design the various intentions of the developers, managers and clients; it is poised to behave, given a particular input, according to their ideas about which information is appropriate (Friedman 1997, Gorwa, Binns, & Katzenbach 2020). Moral responsibility can therefore not be attributed without looking at the causal efficacy of these artifacts and how they constrain and enable particular human activities.

However, although technological artefacts may influence and shape human action, they do not determine it. They are not isolated instruments that mean and work the same regardless of why, by whom, and in what context they are used; they have interpretive flexibility (Bijker et al. 1987) or multistability (Ihde 1990). Although the design of the technology provides a set of conditions for action, the form and meaning of these actions is the result of how human agents choose to use these technologies in particular contexts. People often use technologies in ways unforeseen by their designers. This interpretive flexibility makes it difficult for designers to anticipate all the possible outcomes of the use of their technologies. The mediating role of computer technologies complicates the effort of retrospectively tracing back the causal connection between actions and outcomes, but it also complicates forward-looking responsibility.

As computer technologies shape how people perceive and experience the world, they affect the second condition for attributing moral responsibility. In order to make appropriate decisions a person has to be able to consider and deliberate about the consequences of their actions. They have to be aware of the possible risks or harms that their actions might cause. It is unfair to hold someone responsible for something if they could not have reasonably known that their actions might lead to harm.

On the one hand, computer technologies can help users to think through what their actions or choices may lead to. They help the user to capture, store, organize and analyze data and information (Zuboff 1982). For example, one often-named advantage of remote-controlled robots used by the armed forces or rescue workers is that they enable their operators to acquire information that would not be able available without them. They allow their operators to look "beyond the next hill" or "around the next corner" and they can thus help operators to reflect on what the consequences of particular tactical decisions might be (US Department of Defense 2009). Similarly, data analysis tools can find patterns in large volumes of data that human data analysts cannot manually process (Boyd and Crawford 2012).

On the other hand the use of computers can constrain the ability of users to understand or consider the outcomes of their actions. These complex technologies, which are never fully free from errors, increasingly hide the automated processes behind the interface (Van den Hoven 2002). An example that illustrates how computer technologies can limit understanding of the outcomes are the controversial risk assessment tools used by judges in several states in the U.S. for parole decisions and sentencing. In 2016 a civil society organization found, based on an analysis of the risk scores of 7000 defendants produced by one particular algorithm, that the scores poorly reflected the actual recidivism rate and seemed to have a racial bias (Angwin et al. 2016). Regardless of whether its findings were correct or not, what is particularly relevant here is that the investigation also showed that judges did not have a full understanding of how the probabilities were calculated, in part because the algorithm was proprietary. The judges were basing their sentencing on the suggestion of an algorithm that they did not fully understand. This is the case for most computer technologies today. Users only see part of the many computations that a computer performs and are for the most part unaware of how it performs them; they usually only have a partial understanding of the assumptions, models and theories on which the information on their computer screen is based. The increasing complexity of computer systems and their reliance on opaque machine learning algorithms makes it even more difficult to understand what is happening behind the interface (Pasquale 2015, Diakopoulos 2020).

The opacity of many computer systems can get in the way of assessing the validity and relevance of the information and can prevent a user from making appropriate decisions. People have a tendency to either rely too much or not enough on the accuracy automated systems (Cummings 2004; Parasuraman & Riley 1997). This tendency is called automation bias. A person's ability to act responsibly, for example, can suffer when she distrust the automation as result of a high rate of false alarms. In the Therac 25 case, one of the machine's operators testified that she had become used to the many cryptic error messages the machine gave and most did not involve patient safety (Leveson and Turner 1993, p.24). She tended to ignore them and therefore failed to notice when the machine was set to overdose a patient. Too much reliance on automated systems can have equally disastrous consequences. In 1988 the missile cruiser U.S.S. Vincennes shot down an Iranian civilian jet airliner, killing all 290 passengers onboard, after it mistakenly identified the airliner as an attacking military aircraft (Gray 1997). The cruiser was equipped with an Aegis defensive system that could automatically track and target incoming missiles and enemy aircrafts. Analyses of the events leading up to the incident showed that overconfidence in the abilities of the Aegis system prevented others from intervening when they could have. Two other warships nearby had correctly identified the aircraft as civilian. Yet, they did not dispute the Vincennes' identification of the aircraft as a military aircraft. In a later explanation Lt. Richard Thomas of one of the nearby ships stated, "We called her Robocruiser... she always seemed to have a picture... She always seemed to be telling everybody to get on or off the link as though her picture was better" (as quoted in Gray 1997, p. 34). The captains of both ships thought that the sophisticated Aegis system provided the crew of Vincennes with information they did not have.

Considering the possible consequences of one's actions is further complicated as computer technologies make it possible for humans to do things that they could not do before. Several decades ago, the philosopher Ladd pointed out, "[C]omputer technology has created new modes of conduct and new social institutions, new vices and new virtues, new ways of helping and new ways of abusing other people" (Ladd 1989, p. 210-11). Computer technologies of today have had a similar effect. The social or legal conventions that govern what we can do with these technologies take some time to emerge and the initial absence of these conventions contributes to confusion about responsibilities (Taddeo and Floridi 2015). For example, the ability for users to upload and share text, videos and images publicly on the Internet raised a whole set of questions about who is responsible for the content of the uploaded material. Such questions were at the heart of the debate about the conviction of three Google executives in Italy for a violation of the data protection act (Sartor and Viola de Azevedo Cunha 2010). The case concerned a video on YouTube of four students assaulting a disabled person. In response to a request by the Italian Postal Police, Google, as owner of YouTube, took the video down two months after the students uploaded it. The judge, nonetheless, ruled that Google was criminally liable for processing the video without taking adequate precautionary measures to avoid privacy violations. The judge also held Google liable for failing to adequately inform the students, who uploaded the videos, of their data protection obligations (p. 367). In the ensuing debate about the verdict, those critical of the ruling insisted that it threatened the freedom of expression on the Internet and it sets a dangerous precedent that can be used by authoritarian regimes to justify web censorship (see also Singel 2010). Moreover, they claimed that platform providers could not be held responsible for the actions of their users, as they could not realistically approve every upload and it was not their job to censure. Yet, others instead argued that it would be immoral for Google to be exempt from liability for the damage that others suffered due to Google's profitable commercial activity. Cases like this one show that in the confusion about the possibilities and limitations of new technologies it can be difficult to determine one's moral obligations to others.

The lack of experience with new technological innovations can also affect what counts as negligent use of the technology. In order to operate a new computer system, users typically have to go through a process of training and familiarization with the system. It requires skill and experience to understand and imagine how the system will behave (Coeckelbergh and Wackers 2007). Friedman describes the case of a programmer who invented and was experimenting with a 'computer worm', a piece of code that can replicate itself. At the time this was a relatively new computational entity (1990). The programmer released the worm on the Internet, but the experiment quickly got out of the control when the code replicated much faster than he had expected (see also Denning 1989). Today we would not find this a satisfactory excuse, familiar as we have become with computer worms, viruses and other forms of malware. However, Friedman poses the question of whether the programmer really acted in a negligent way if the consequences were truly unanticipated. Does the computer community's lack of experience with a particular type of computational entity influence what we judge to be negligent behavior?

The freedom to act is probably the most important condition for attributing moral responsibility and also one of the most contested (Talbert 2022). We tend to excuse people from moral blame if they had no other choice but to act in the way that they did. We typically do not hold people responsible if they were coerced or forced to take particular actions. In moral philosophy, the freedom to act can also mean that a person has free will or autonomy (Fisher 1999). Someone can be held morally responsible because she acts on the basis of her own authentic thoughts and motivations and has the capacity to control her behavior (Johnson 2001). Note that this conception of autonomy is different from the way the term 'autonomy' is often used in computer science, where it tends to refer to the ability of a robot or computer system to independently perform (i.e. without the 'human in the loop') complex tasks in unpredictable environments for extended periods of time (Noorman 2009, Zerilli et al 2021).

Nevertheless, there is little consensus on what capacities human beings have, that other entities do not have, which enables them to act freely (see the entries on free will, autonomy in moral and political philosophy, personal autonomy and compatibilism). Does it require rationality, emotion, intentionality or cognition? Indeed, one important debate in moral philosophy centers on the question of whether human beings really have autonomy or free will? And, if not, can moral responsibility still be attributed (Talbert 2022)?

In practice, attributing autonomy or free will to humans on the basis of the fulfillment of a set of conditions turns out to be a less than straightforward endeavor. We attribute autonomy to persons in degrees. An adult is generally considered to be more autonomous than a child. As individuals in a society our autonomy is thought to vary because we are manipulated, controlled or influenced by forces outside of ourselves, such as by our parents or through peer pressure. Moreover, internal physical or psychological influences, such as addictions or mental problems, are perceived as further constraining the autonomy of a person.

Computing, like other technologies, adds an additional layer of complexity to determining whether someone is free to act, as it affects the choices that humans have and how they make them. One of the biggest application areas of computing is the automation of decision-making processes and control. Automation can help to centralize and increase control over multiple processes for those in charge, while it limits the discretionary power of human operators on the lower-end of the decision-making chain. An example is provided by the automation of decision-making in public administration (Bovens and Zouridis 2002). Large public sector organizations have over the last decades progressively standardized and formalized their production processes. In a number of countries, the process of issuing decisions about (student) loans, social benefits, speeding tickets or tax returns is carried out to a significant extent by computer systems. This has reduced the scope of the administrative discretion that many officials, such as tax inspectors, welfare workers, and policy officers, have in deciding how to apply formal policy rules in individual cases (Eubanks 2018). In some cases, citizens no longer interact with officials that have significant responsibility in applying their knowledge of the rules and regulations to decide what is appropriate (e.g., would it be better to let someone off with a warning or is a speeding ticket required?). Rather, decisions are pre-programmed in the algorithms that apply the same measures and rules regardless of the person or the context (e.g., a speeding camera does not care about the context or personal circumstances), and the human beings that citizens do interact with have little opportunity to interrogate or change decisions (Dignum 2020). Responsibility for decisions made, in these cases, has moved from 'street-level bureaucrats' to the 'system-level bureaucrats', such as managers and computer experts, that decide on how to convert policy and legal frameworks into algorithms and decision-trees (Bovens and Zouridis 2002).

The automation of bureaucratic processes illustrates that some computer technologies are intentionally designed to limit the discretion of some human beings. An example is the anti-alcohol lock that is already in use in a number of countries, including the USA, Canada, Sweden and the UK. It requires the driver to pass a breathing test before she can start the car. This technology forces a particular kind of action and leaves the driver with hardly any choice. Other technologies might have a more subtle way of steering behavior, by either persuading or nudging users (Verbeek 2016). For example, the onboard computer devices in some cars that show, in real-time, information about fuel consumption can encourage the driver to optimize fuel efficiency. Such technologies are designed with the explicit aim of making humans behave responsibly by limiting their options or persuading them to choose in a certain way.

Not all these technologies are designed to stimulate morally good behavior. Yeung notes that these kinds of decision-guidance techniques have become a key element of current day Big-Data analytic techniques, as used on social media and in advertising. She argues that these 'hyper nudges' are extremely powerful techniques to manipulate the behaviour of internet users and users of Internet of Things (IoT) devices due to their networked, continuously updated, dynamic and pervasive nature. As they gather data from a wide range of sources about users to continuously make predictions in real-time about the habits and preferences of users, they can target advertisement, information and price incentives to gently and unobtrusively nudge these users in directions preferred by the those that control the algorithms (Yeung, 2017). When these nudges are hardly noticeable and have a powerful effect, one can wonder how autonomous the decision making of these users is. This is the case, for example, with dark patterns, which use interfaces on websites or apps that are designed to trick users to do things that did not intend to do, such as purchasing additional expensive insurance (Ravenscraft 2020).

Verbeek notes that critics of the idea of intentionally developing technology to enforce morally desirable behavior have argued that it jettisons the democratic principles of our society and threatens human dignity. They argue that it deprives humans of their ability and rights to make deliberate decisions and to act voluntarily. In addition, critics have claimed that if humans are not acting freely, their actions cannot be considered moral. These objections can be countered, as Verbeek argues, by pointing to the rules, norms, regulations and a host of technological artifacts that already set conditions for actions that humans are able or allowed to perform. Moreover, he notes, technological artifacts, as active mediators, affect the actions and experiences of humans, but they do not determine them. Some people have creatively circumvented the strict morality of earlier versions of the alcohol lock by having an air pump in the car (Vidal 2004). Nevertheless, these critiques underline the issues at stake in automating decision-making processes: computing can set constraints on the freedom a person has to act and thus affects the extent to which she can be held morally responsible.

The challenges that computer technologies present with regard to the conditions for ascribing responsibility indicate the limitations of conventional ethical frameworks in dealing with the question of moral responsibility. Traditional models of moral responsibility seem to be developed for the kinds of actions performed by an individual that have directly visible consequences (Waelbers 2009, Coeckelbergh 2009). However, in today's society attributions of responsibility to an individual or a group of individuals are intertwined with the artifacts with which they interact as well as with intentions and actions of other human agents that these artifacts mediate. Acting with computer technologies may require a different kind of analysis of who can be held responsible and what it means to be morally responsible. Below I discuss two ways in which scholars have taken up this challenge: 1) reconsidering what it means to be a moral agent and 2) reconsidering the concept of moral responsibility.

Moral responsibility is generally attributed to moral agents and, at least in Western philosophical traditions, moral agency has been a concept exclusively reserved for human beings (Johnson 2001; Doorn and van de Poel 2012). Unlike animals or natural disasters, human beings in these traditions can be the originators of morally significant actions, as they can freely choose to act in one way rather than another way and deliberate about the consequences of this choice. And, although some people are inclined to anthropomorphize computers and treat them as if they were moral agents (Reeves and Nass 1996; Nass and Moon 2000; Rosenthal-von der Pütten 2013), most philosophers agree that current computer technologies should not be called moral agents, if that would mean that they could be held morally responsible. However, the limitations of traditional ethical vocabularies in thinking about the moral dimensions of computing have led some authors to rethink the concept of moral agency. It should be noted that some authors have also argued for a reconsideration of Western philosophical anthropocentric conceptions of moral patiency, in particular in regard to the question concerning the moral standing of artificial agents or robots (Floridi 2016, Gunkel 2020, Coeckelbergh 2020). The following will nevertheless focus on moral agency as these reflections on moral patiency tend to not address the challenges to moral responsibility.

The increasing complexity of computer technology and the advances in Artificial Intelligence (AI), challenge the idea that human beings are the only entities to which moral responsibility can or should be ascribed (Bechtel 1985; Kroes and Verbeek 2014). Dennett, for example, suggested that holding a computer morally responsible is possible if it concerned a higher-order intentional computer system (1997). An intentional system, according to him, is one that can be predicted and explained by attributing beliefs and desires to it, as well as rationality. In other words, its behavior can be described by assuming the systems has mental states and that it acts according what it thinks it ought to do, given its beliefs and desires. At the time, Dennett noted that many computers were already intentional systems, but they lacked the higher-order ability to reflect on and reason about their mental states. They did not have beliefs about their beliefs or thoughts about desires. Dennett suggested that the fictional HAL 9000 that featured in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey would qualify as a higher-order intentional system that can be held morally responsible. Although advances in AI might not lead to HAL, he did see the development of computers systems with higher-order intentionality as a real possibility.

Sullins argues in line with Dennett that moral agency is not restricted to human beings (2006). He proposes that computers systems or, more specifically, robots are moral agents when they have a significant level of autonomy and they can be regarded at an appropriate level of abstraction as exhibiting intentional behavior. A robot, according to Sullins, would be significantly autonomous if it was not under the direct control of other agents in performing its tasks. Note that Sullins interprets autonomy in a narrow sense in comparison to the conception of autonomy in moral philosophy as property of human beings. He adds as a third condition that a robot also has to be in a position of responsibility to be a moral agent. That is, the robot performs some social role that carries with it some responsibilities and in performing this role the robot appears to have 'beliefs' about and an understanding of its duties towards other moral agents (p. 28). To illustrate what kind of capabilities are required for "full moral agency", he draws an analogy with a human nurse. He argues that if a robot was autonomous enough to carry out the same duties as a human nurse and had an understanding of its role and responsibilities in the health care systems, then it would be a "full moral agent". Sullins maintains that it will be some time before machines with these kinds of capabilities will be available, but "even the modest robots of today can be seen to be moral agents of a sort under certain, but not all, levels of abstraction and are deserving of moral consideration" (p. 29).

Echoing objections to the early project of (strong) AI (Sack 1997), critics of analyses such as presented by Dennett and Sullins, have objected to the idea that computer technologies can have capacities that make human beings moral agents, such as mental states, intentionality, common sense, emotion or empathy (Johnson 2006; Kuflik 1999; Nyholm 2018). They, for instance, point out that it makes no sense to treat computer system as moral agents that can be held responsible, for they cannot suffer and thus cannot be punished (Sparrow 2007; Asaro 2011). Veliz argues that computers may act like moral agents, but they lack sentience and are therefore 'moral zombies' (2021). Hakli and Makela argue that computers cannot have the kind of autonomy required for moral agency, because their capacities are a result of engineering and programming which undermines the autonomy of robots and disqualifies them as moral agents (2019). Or they argue, as Stahl does, that computers are not capable of moral reasoning, because they do not have the capacity to understand the meaning of the information that they process (2006). In order to comprehend the meaning of moral statements an agent has to be part of the form of life in which the statement is meaningful; it has to be able to take part in moral discourses. Similar to the debates about AI, critics continue to draw a distinction between humans and computers by noting various capacities that computers do not, and cannot, have that would justify the attribution of moral agency.

Some other critics do not contest that human beings might be able to build computer systems with the required capacities for moral agency, but question whether it is ethically appropriate to do so. Bryson, for instance, argues that even if it was possible to create artifacts with such capacities - and she assumes this might very well be possible - human beings have a choice in the matter (2018). She defines a moral agent as "something deemed responsible by a society for its actions" (p. 16). Society can thus at one point deem it appropriate to view certain computer systems as moral agents, for instance as it would provide a short cut to figuring out how responsibility should be distributed. However, she argues that there is no necessary or predetermined position for these technologies in our society. This is because, she notes, computer technologies ethical frameworks are "artefacts of our societies, and therefore subject to human control" (p. 15). We can choose what capacities we equip these artefacts with, and she sees no coherent reason for creating artificial agents that human beings have to compete with in terms of moral agency or patiency.

In the absence of any definitive arguments for or against the possibility of future computer systems being morally responsible, researchers within the field of machine ethics aim to further develop the discussion by focusing instead on creating computer system that can behave as if they are moral agents (Moor 2006, C ervantes et al 2019 , Zoshak and Dew 2021). Research within this field has been concerned with the design and development of computer systems that can independently determine what the right thing to do would be in a given situation. According to Allen and Wallach, such autonomous moral agents (AMAs) would have to be capable of reasoning about the moral and social significance of their behavior and use their assessment of the effects their behavior has on sentient beings to make appropriate choices (2012; see also Wallach and Allen 2009 and Allen et al. 2000). Such abilities are needed, they argue, because computers are becoming more and more complex and capable of operating without direct human control in different contexts and environments. Progressively autonomous technologies already in development, such as military robots, driverless cars or trains and service robots in the home and for healthcare, will be involved in moral situations that directly affect the safety and well-being of humans. An autonomous bomb disposal robot might in the future be faced with the decision which bomb it should defuse first, in order to minimize casualties. Similarly, a moral decision that a driverless car might have to make is whether to break for a crossing dog or avoid the risk of causing injury to the driver behind him. Such decisions require judgment. Currently operators make such moral decisions, or the decision is already inscribed in the design of the computer system. Machine ethics, Wallach and Allen argue, goes one step beyond making engineers aware of the values they build into the design of their products, as it seeks to build ethical decision-making into the machines.

To further specify what it means for computers to make ethical decisions or to put 'ethics in the machine', Moor distinguished between three different kinds of ethical agents: implicit ethical agents, explicit ethical agents, and full ethical agents (2006). The first kind of agent is a computer that has the ethics of its developers inscribed in their design. These agents are constructed to adhere to the norms and values of the contexts in which they are developed or will be used. Thus, ATM tellers are designed to have a high level of security to prevent unauthorized people from drawing money from accounts. An explicit ethical agent is a computer that can 'do ethics'. In other words, it can on the basis of an ethical model determine what would be the right thing to do, given certain inputs. The ethical model can be based on ethical traditions, such as Kantian, Confucianism, Ubuntu, or utilitarian ethics-depending on the preferences of its creators. These agents would 'make ethical decisions' on behalf of its human users (and developers). Such agents are akin to the autonomous moral agents described by Allen and Wallach. Finally, Moor defined full ethical agents as entities that can make ethical judgments and can justify them, much like human beings can. He claimed that although at the time of his writing there were no computer technologies that could be called fully ethical, it is an empirical question whether or not it would be possible in the future. Few, if any, philosophers today would argue that this question has been answered in the postive.

The effort to build AMAs raises the question of how this effort affects the ascription of moral responsibility. As human beings would design these artificial agents to behave within pre-specified formalized ethical frameworks, it is likely that responsibility will still be ascribed to these human actors and those that deploy these technologies. However, as Allen and Wallach acknowledge, the danger of exclusively focusing on equipping robots with moral decision-making abilities, rather than also looking at the sociotechnical systems in which these robots are embedded, is that it may cause further confusion about the distribution of responsibility (2012). Robots with moral decision-making capabilities may present similar challenges to ascribing responsibility as other technologies, when they introduce new complexities that further obfuscate causal connections that lead back to their creators and users.

The prospect of increasingly autonomous and intelligent computer technologies and the growing difficulty of finding responsible human agents lead Floridi and Sanders to take a different approach (2004). They propose to extend the class of moral agents to include artificial agents, while disconnecting moral agency and moral accountability from the notion of moral responsibility. They contend that "the insurmountable difficulties for the traditional and now rather outdated view that a human can be found accountable for certain kinds of software and even hardware" demands a different approach (p. 372). Instead, they suggest that artificial agents should be acknowledged as moral agents that can be held accountable, but not responsible. To illustrate they draw a comparison between artificial agents and dogs as sources of moral actions. Dogs can be the cause of a morally charged action, like damaging property or helping to save a person's life, as in the case of search-and-rescue dogs. We can identify them as moral agents even though we generally do not hold them morally responsible, according to Floridi and Sanders: they are the source of a moral action and can be held morally accountable by correcting or punishing them.

Just like animals, Floridi and Sanders argue, artificial agents can be seen as sources of moral actions and thus can be held morally accountable when they can be conceived of as behaving like a moral agent from an appropriate level of abstraction. The notion of levels of abstraction refers to the stance one adopts towards and entity to predict and explain its behavior. At a low level of abstraction we would explain the behavior of a system in terms of its mechanical or biological processes. At a higher level of abstraction it can help to describe the behavior of a system in terms of beliefs, desires and thoughts. If at a high enough level a computational system can effectively be described as being interactive, autonomous and adaptive, then it can be held accountable according to Floridi and Sanders (p. 352). It, thus, does not require personhood or free will for an agent to be morally accountable; rather the agent has to act as if it had intentions and was able to make choices.

The advantage of disconnecting accountability from responsibility, according to Floridi and Sanders, is that it places the focus on moral agenthood, accountability and censure, instead of on figuring out which human agents are responsible. "We are less likely to assign responsibility at any cost, forced by the necessity to identify a human moral agent. We can liberate technological development of AAs [Artificial Agents] from being bound by the standard limiting view" (p. 376). When artificial agents 'behave badly' they can be dealt with directly, when their autonomous behavior and complexity makes it too difficult to distribute responsibility among human agents. Immoral agents can be modified or deleted. It is then possible to attribute moral accountability even when moral responsibility cannot be determined.

Critics of Floridi's and Sanders' view on accountability and moral agency argue that placing the focus of analysis on computational artifacts by treating them as moral agents will draw attention away from the humans that deploy and develop them. Johnson, for instance, makes the case that computer technologies remain connected to the intentionality of their creators and users (2006). She argues that although computational artifacts are a part of the moral world and should be recognized as entities that have moral relevance, they are not moral agents, for they are not intentional. They are not intentional, because they do not have mental states or a purpose that comes from the freedom to act. She emphasizes that although these artifacts are not intentional, they do have intentionality, but their intentionality is related to their functionality. They are human-made artifacts and their design and use reflect the intentions of designers and users. Human users, in turn, use their intentionality to interact with and through the software. In interacting with the artifacts they activate the inscribed intentions of the designers and developers. It is through human activity that computer technology is designed, developed, tested, installed, initiated and provided with input and instructions to perform specified tasks. Without this human activity, computers would do nothing. Attributing independent moral agency to computers, Johnson claims, disconnects them from the human behavior that creates, deploys and uses them. It turns the attention away from the forces that shape technological development and limits the possibility for intervention. For instance, it leaves the issue of sorting out who is responsible for dealing with malfunctioning or immoral artificial agents or who should make amends for the harmful events they may cause. It postpones the question of who has to account for the conditions under which artificial agents are allowed to operate (Noorman 2009).

Yet, technologies can still be part of moral action, without being a moral agent. Several philosophers have stressed that moral responsibility cannot be properly understood without recognizing the active role of technology in shaping human action (Jonas 1984; Verbeek 2006; Johnson and Powers 2005; Nyholm 2018). Johnson, for instance, claims that although computers are not moral agents, the artifact designer, the artifact, and the artifact user should all be the focus of moral evaluation as they are all at work in an action (Johnson 2006). Humans create these artifacts and inscribe in them their particular values and intentions to achieve particular effects in the world and in turn these technological artifacts influence what human beings can and cannot do and affect how they perceive and interpret the world.

Similarly, Verbeek maintains that technological artifacts alone do not have moral agency, but moral agency is hardly ever 'purely' human. Moral agency generally involves a mediating artifact that shapes human behavior, often in way not anticipated by the designer (2008). Moral decisions and actions are co-shaped by technological artifacts. He suggests that in all forms of human action there are three forms of agency at work: 1) the agency of the human performing the action; 2) the agency of the designer who helped shaped the mediating role of the artifacts and 3) the artifact mediating human action. The agency of artifacts is inextricably linked to the agency of its designers and users, but it cannot be reduced to either of them. For him, then, a subject that acts or makes moral decisions is a composite of human and technological components. Moral agency is not merely located in a human being, but in a complex blend of humans and technologies.

In later papers, Floridi explores the concept of distributed moral actions (2013, 2016). He argues that some moral significant outcomes cannot be reduced to the moral significant actions of some individuals. Morally neutral actions of several individuals can still result in morally significant events. Individuals might not have intended to cause harm, but nevertheless their combined actions may still result in moral harm to someone or something. In order to deal with the problem of subsequently assigning moral responsibility for such distributed moral actions, he argues that the focus of analysis should shift from the agents to the patients of moral actions. A moral action can then be evaluated in terms of the harm to the patient, regardless of the intentions of the agents involved. Assigning responsibility then focuses on whether or not an agent is causally accountable for the outcome and on adjusting their behavior to prevent harm. If the agents causally accountable - be they artificial or biological - are autonomous, can interact with each other and their environments and can learn from their interactions they can be held responsible for distributed moral actions, according to Floridi (2016).

In light of the noted difficulties in ascribing moral responsibility, several authors have critiqued the way in which the concept is used and interpreted in relation to computing. They claim that the traditional models or frameworks for dealing with moral responsibility fall short and propose different perspectives or interpretations to address some of the difficulties. Some of these will be discussed in this section.

One approach is to rethink how moral responsibility is assigned (Gotterbarn 2001; Waelbers 2009). When it comes to computing practitioners, Gotterbarn identifies a potential to side-step or avoid responsibility by looking for someone else to blame. He attributes this potential to two pervasive misconceptions about responsibility. The first misconception is that computing is an ethically neutral practice. That is, according to Gotterbarn, the misplaced belief that technological artifacts and the practices of building them are ethically neutral is often used to justify a narrow technology-centered focus on the development of computer system without taking the broader context in which these technologies operate into account. This narrow focus can have detrimental consequences. Gotterbarn gives the tragic case of a patient's death as a result of a faulty X-ray device as an example. A programmer was given the assignment to write a program that could lower or raise the X-ray device on a pole, after an X-ray technician set the required height. The programmer focused on solving the given puzzle, but failed to take account of the circumstances in which the device would be used and the contingencies that might occur. He, thus, did not consider the possibility that a patient could accidentally be in the way of the device moving up and down the pole. This oversight eventually resulted in a tragic accident. A patient was crushed by the device, when a technician set the device to tabletop height, not realizing that the patient was still underneath it. According to Gotterbarn, computer practitioners have a moral responsibility to consider such contingencies, even though they may not be legally required to do so. The design and use of technological artifacts is a moral activity and the choice for one particular design solution over another has real and material consequences.

The second misconception is that responsibility is only about determining blame when something goes wrong. Computer practitioners, according to Gotterbarn, have conventionally adopted a malpractice model of responsibility that focuses on determining the appropriate person to blame for harmful incidents (2001). This malpractice model leads to all sorts of excuses to shirk responsibility. In particular, the complexities that computer technologies introduce allow computer practitioners to side-step responsibility. The distance between developers and the effects of the use of the technologies they create can, for instance, be used to claim that there is no direct and immediate causal link that would tie developers to a malfunction. Developers can argue that their contribution to the chain of events was negligible, as they are part of a team or larger organization and they had limited opportunity to do otherwise. The malpractice model, according to Gotterbarn, entices computer practitioners to distance themselves from accountability and blame.

The two misconceptions are based on a particular retrospective view of responsibility that places the focus on that which exempts one from blame and liability. In reference to Ladd, Gotterbarn calls this negative responsibility and distinguishes it from positive responsibility (see also Ladd 1989). Positive responsibility emphasizes "the virtue of having or being obliged to have regard for the consequences that his or her actions have on others" (Gotterbarn 2001, p. 227). Positive responsibility entails that part of the professionalism of computer experts is that they strive to minimize foreseeable undesirable events. It focuses on what ought to be done rather than on blaming or punishing others for irresponsible behavior. Gotterbarn argues that the computing professions should adopt a positive concept of responsibility, as it emphasizes the obligations and duties of computer practitioners to have regard for the consequences of one's actions and to minimize the possibility of causing harm. Computer practitioners have a moral responsibility to avoid harm and to deliver a properly working product, according to him, regardless of whether they will be held accountable if things turn out differently.

The emphasis on the positive moral responsibility of computer practitioners raises the question of how far this responsibility reaches, in particular in light of systems that many hands help create and the difficulties involved in anticipating contingencies that might cause a system to malfunction (Stieb 2008; Miller 2008). To what extent can developers and manufacturers be expected to exert themselves to anticipate or prevent the consequences of the use of their technologies or possible 'bugs' in their code? Computer systems today are generally incomprehensible to any single programmer and it seems unlikely that complex computer systems can be completely error free. Martin argues in this respect that developers and the companies that decide to sell a computer technology into a particular context are responsible for the ethical implication of the use of these technologies in that context (2019). They are responsible for these implications because they are knowledgeable about the design decisions and are in a unique position to inscribe in the technology particular ideas (and biases) about what the technology should do and how it should do it. Thus, a company that creates and sells a risk-assessment system into the context of judicial decision-making is responsible for the ethical implications of biases resulting from its use and its opaqueness. The company willingly "takes on the obligation to understand the values of the decision to ensure the algorithms' ethical implications is congruent with the context" (p. 10). This, however, leaves open the question of what their responsibility is outside of that context. Should manufacturers of mobile phones have anticipated that their products would be used in roadside bombs? Manufacturers and their designers and engineers cannot foresee all the possible conditions under which their products will eventually operate. Moreover, how much control should a person have to be or feel responsible for the outcome of events? Such questions speak to what Santonio de Sio and Meccaci (2020) call the "active responsibility gap". They described active responsibility in much the same way as positive responsibility, in that it relates to the moral obligations of persons to ensure that the behavior of the systems they design, control, or use minimizes harm. A gap in this responsibility, according to them, results from these persons not being sufficiently aware, capable and motivated to see and act according to these obligations (p. 1059).

To address gaps in active responsibility (as well as backward-looking gaps in responsibility), Santonio de Sio and Meccaci suggest an approach that underlines the need to look at the broader sociotechnical system of human agents and technologies. Assigning responsibility requires looking at the whole chain of design, development and use from a social, technical as well as organizational perspective. Each element in this change can be adjusted in an effort to address responsibility gaps, including the design of the computer systems as well as the organization that uses it. They base their approach on the idea of designing sociotechnial systems for meaningful human control as developed by Santonio de Sio and van den Hoven (2018). Meaningful human control is a concept that originally gained currency in the context of autonomous lethal weapons as an approach to addressing responsibility gaps. The question of what it means to have control over a technological system becomes particularly pertinent in situations where weapon systems are delegated tasks involved in target selection and engagement (Ekelhof 2019). Santoni di Sio and van den Hoven (2018) developed their conception of meaningful human control to get a more 'actionable analysis of control' that can help engineers, computing professionals, policy makers and designers think about how to design sociotechnical systems with responsibility in mind.

Santonio de Sio and van den Hoven assume that technology is part of the decisional mechanisms through which human agents carry out actions in the world and these mechanisms should be responsive to moral reasons for an agent to have control. Meaningful human control is thus conditional on the extent to which an outcome can be connected to the decisional mechanisms of human agents. To elucidate these connections, they formulate two necessary conditions for meaningful control called tracking and tracing.

Tracking requires that the whole sociotechnical system of technical, human and organizational elements should be responsive to moral reasons of the relevant agents and to the relevant facts of the circumstances. That is, the behaviour of the system should reflect the reasons, values, and intentions of these actors given particular circumstances. For example, if a machine learning system is trained to distinguish huskies from wolves, the system should act according to the relevant reasons for doing this (e.g. alarming a farmer to the presence of a wolf). A machine learning system that is trained to make this distinction, but has only been shown pictures of wolves in the snow and huskies in more urban environments, it may deduce that the relevant distinguishing feature is snow. When shown a picture of a wolf in urban environment, it might subsequently misclassify the wolf as a husky. In this case, the system did not properly track the reasons of relevant human agents and the facts of the environment. Note that this tracking relation can involve multiple human agents along the chain. That is, the moral reasons do not necessarily have to come from the operator or user, they can also come from policy makers, designers or programmers.

Tracing requires that outcomes can be traced back to earlier decisions made by human agents that place them in the position resulting in the outcome. An example that the authors give is a drunk driver causing a serious accident. Even if the driver does not fulfill the conditions of responsibility at the time of the accident - because of mental incapacitation - the driver did make the earlier decision of drinking too much. The tracing condition, as Santoni di Sio and van den Hoven formulate it, assumes that it is possible that more than one human agent is involved in the actions that led to the outcome and that their actions are mediated by non-human systems. According to them, the tracing condition requires that the whole sociotechnical system is designed such that at least one human agent can have sufficient knowledge and moral awareness to be a potential target of legitimate response for the behavior of the system.

Santonio de Sio and van den Hoven's understanding of meaningful human control does not only have implications for the design of computer systems, but also for the design of the environment and the social and institutional practices. Tracking and tracing of relevant human moral reasons occurs on all these levels of design.

Santonio de Sio and van den Hoven's analysis of meaningful human control draws attention to the social function of moral responsibility, which provides yet another perspective on the issue (Stahl 2006; Tigard 2021b). Both prospectively and retrospectively, responsibility works to organize social relations between people and between people and institutions. It sets expectations between people for the fulfillment of certain obligations and duties and provides the means to correct or encourage certain behavior. For instance, a robotics company is expected to build in safeguards that prevent robots from harming humans. If the company fails to live up to this expectation, it will be held accountable and in some cases it will have to pay for damages or undergo some other kind of punishment. The punishment or prospect of punishment can encourage the company to have more regard for system safety, reliability, sound design and the risks involved in their production of robots. It might trigger the company to take actions to prevent future accidents. Yet, it might also encourage it to find ways to shift the blame. The idea that responsibility is about interpersonal relationships and expectations about duties and obligations places the focus on the practices of holding someone responsible (Strawson 1962, Talbert 2022).

The particular practices and social structures that are in place to ascribe responsibility and hold people accountable, have an influence on how we relate to technologies. Just before the turn of the century, Nissenbaum already noted that the difficulties in attributing moral responsibility can, to a large extent, be traced back to the particular characteristics of the organizational and cultural context in which computer technologies are embedded. She argued that how we conceive of the nature, capacities and limitations of computing is of influence on the answerability of those who develop and use computer technologies (1997). At the time, she observed a systematic erosion of accountability in our increasingly computerized society, where she conceived of accountability as a value and a practice that places an emphasis on preventing harm and risk. Accountability means there will be someone, or several people, to answer not only for the malfunctions in life-critical systems that cause or risk grave injuries and cause infrastructure and large monetary losses, but even for the malfunction that cause individual losses of time, convenience, and contentment (1994, p. 74). It can be used as "a powerful tool for motivating better practices, and consequently more reliable and trustworthy systems" (1997, p. 43). Holding people accountable for the harms or risks caused by computer systems provides a strong incentive to minimize them and can provide a starting point for assigning just punishment.

Cultural and organizational practices, at the time, however seemed to do the opposite, due to "the conditions under which computer technologies are commonly developed and deployed, coupled with popular conceptions about the nature, capacities and limitations of computing" (p. 43). Nissenbaum identified four barriers to accountability in society: (1) the problem of many hands, (2) the acceptance of computer bugs as an inherent element of large software systems, (3) using the computer as scapegoat and (4) ownership without liability. According to Nissenbaum people have a tendency to shirk responsibility and to shift the blame to others when accidents occur. The problem of many hands and the idea that software bugs are an inevitable by-product of complex computer systems are too easily accepted as excuses for not answering for harmful outcomes. People are also inclined to point the finger at the complexity of the computer and argue that "it was the computer's fault" when things go wrong. Finally, she perceived a tendency of companies to claim ownership of the software they developed, but to dismiss the responsibilities that come with ownership. To illustrate, she pointed to extended license agreements that assert a manufacturer's ownership of software, but disclaim any accountability for the quality or performance of the product.

These four barriers, Nissenbaum argued, stand in the way of a "culture of accountability" that is aimed at maintaining clear lines of accountability. Such a culture fosters a strong sense of responsibility as a virtue to be encouraged and everyone connected to an outcome of particular actions is answerable for it. Accountability, according to Nissenbaum, is different from liability. Liability is about looking for a person to blame and to compensate for damages suffered after the event. Once that person has been found, others can be let 'off the hook', which may encourage people to look for excuses, such as blaming the computer. Accountability, however, applies to all those involved. It requires a particular kind of organizational context, one in which answerability works to entice people to pay greater attention to system safety, reliability and sound design, in order to establish a culture of accountability (see also Martin 2019, Herkert et AL 2020) . An organization that places less value on accountability and that has little regards for responsibilities in organizing their production processes is more likely to allow their technological products to become incomprehensible. Nissenbaum's analysis illustrates that our practices of holding someone responsible - the established ways of holding people to account and of conveying expectations about duties and obligations - are continuously changing and negotiated, partly as a response to the introduction of new technologies (see also Noorman 2012).

A lack of such a culture of accountability can lead to responsibility being attributed to the wrong people. These people become, what Madeleine Clare Elish calls the moral crumple zone (2019). These human actors absorb responsibility, even though they only have very limited or no control over the systems they work with. Elish argues that, given the complexity of technological systems, the media and the public tend to blame accidents on human error and misattribute responsibility to the nearest human operator, such as a pilot or maintenance personnel, rather than the technological systems or the decision-makers higher up the chain.

Nissenbaum argued that the context in which technologies are developed and used has a significant influence on the ascription of moral responsibility, but several authors have stressed that moral responsibility cannot be properly understood without recognizing the active role of technology in shaping human action (Jonas 1984; Verbeek 2006; Johnson and Powers 2005; Waelbers 2009). According to Johnson and Powers it is not enough to just look at what humans intend and do. "Ascribing more responsibility to persons who act with technology requires coming to grips with the behavior of the technology" (2005, p. 107). One has to consider the various ways in which technological artifacts mediate human actions. Moral responsibility is, thus, not only about how the actions of a person or a group of people affect others in a morally significant way; it is also about how their actions are shaped by technology. Moral responsibility from this perspective is not located in an individual or an interpersonal relationship, but is distributed among humans and technologies.

Computer technologies have challenged conventional conceptions of moral responsibility and have raised questions about how to distribute responsibility appropriately. Can human beings still be held responsible for the behavior of complex computer technologies that they have limited control over or understanding of? Are human beings the only agents that can be held morally responsible or can the concept of moral agent be extended to include artificial computational entities? In response to such questions philosophers have reexamined the concepts of moral agency and moral responsibility. Although there is no clear consensus on what these concepts should entail in an increasingly digital society, what is clear from the discussions is that any reflection on these concepts will need to address how these technologies affect human action and where responsibility for action begins and ends.

Allen, C. & W. Wallach, 2012. "Moral Machines. Contradiction in Terms or Abdication of Human Responsibility?" in P. Lin, K. Abney, and G. Bekey (eds.), Robot ethics. The ethics and social implications of robotics. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.

Allen, C., G. Varner & J. Zinser, 2000. "Prolegomena to any Future Artificial Moral Agent," Journal of Experimental and Theoretical Artificial Intelligence, 12: 251-261.

Allen, C. W. Wallach & I. Smit, 2006. "Why Machine Ethics?" Intelligent Systems, IEEE , 21(4):12-17.

Angwin, J., J. Larson, S. Mattu & L. Kirchner, 2016. "Machine Bias. There is software that is used across the county to predict future criminals. And it is biased against blacks", ProPublica, May 23, 2016,Angwin et al. 2016 available online

Asaro, P., 2011. "A Body to Kick, But Still No Soul to Damn: Legal Perspectives on Robotics," in P. Lin, K. Abney, and G. Bekey (eds.) Robot Ethics: The Ethical and Social Implications of Robotics, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Bechtel, W., 1985. "Attributing Responsibility to Computer Systems," Metaphilosophy, 16(4): 296-306

Bijker, W. E., T. P. Hughes, & T. Pinch, 1987. The Social Construction of Technological Systems: New Directions in the Sociology and History of Technology, London, UK: The MIT Press.

Bovens, M. & S. Zouridis, 2002. "From street-level to system-level bureaucracies: how information and communication technology is transforming administrative discretion and constitutional control," Public Administration Review, 62(2):174-184.

Boyd, D. & K. Crawford, 2012. "Critical Questions for Big Data: Provocations for a Cultural, Technological, and Scholarly Phenomenon," Information, Communication, & Society 15(5): 662-679.

Bryson, J.J., 2018. "Patiency is not a virtue: the design of intelligent systems and systems of ethics," Ethics and Information Technology, 20(1): 15-26.

Cervantes, J.A., López, S., Rodríguez, L.F., Cervantes, S., Cervantes, F. and Ramos, F., 2020."Artificial moral agents: A survey of the current status," Science and Engineering Ethics, 26(2): 501-532.

Coeckelbergh, M., 2009. "Virtual moral agency, virtual moral responsibility: on the moral significance of the appearance, perception, and performance of artificial agents," AI & Society, 24: 181-189.

---, 2012. "Moral responsibility, technology, and experiences of the tragic: From Kierkegaard to offshore engineering," Science and Engineering Ethics, 18(1): 35-48.

---, 2013. "Drones, information technology, and distance: mapping the moral epistemology of remote fighting," Ethics and Information Technology, 15(2): 87-98.

Coeckelbergh, M., 2020. "Artificial intelligence, responsibility attribution, and a relational justification of explainability," Science and Engineering Ethics, 26(4): 2051-2068.

Coeckelbergh, M. & R. Wackers, 2007. "Imagination, Distributed Responsibility and Vulnerable Technological Systems: the Case of Snorre A," Science and Engineering Ethics, 13(2): 235-248.

Cummings, M. L., 2004. "Automation Bias in Intelligent Time Critical Decision Support Systems," published online: 19 Jun 2012, American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics. doi:10.2514/6.2004-6313

Diakopoulos, N., 2020. "Transparency". In M. Dubber, F. Pasquale, & S. Das (Eds.), Oxford handbook of ethics and AI (pp. 197-214). Oxford University Press.

Dennett, D. C., 1997. "When HAL Kills, Who's to Blame? Computer Ethics," in HAL's Legacy: 2001's Computer as Dream and Reality, D. G. Stork (ed.), Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Denning, P. J., 1989. "The Science of Computing: The Internet Worm," American Scientist, 77(2): 126-128.

Dignum, V., 2020. "Responsibility and artificial intelligence," The Oxford Handbook of Ethics of AI, Markus D. Drubber et al. (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 214-231.

Doorn, N. & van de Poel, I., 2012. "Editors Overview: Moral Responsibility in Technology and Engineering," Science and Engineering Ethics, 18: 1-11.

Ekelhof, M., 2019. "Moving beyond semantics on autonomous weapons: Meaningful human control in operation," Global Policy, 10(3): 343-348.

Elish, M.C., 2019. "Moral crumple zones: Cautionary tales in human-robot interaction," Engaging Science, Technology, and Society, 5: 40-60.

Eshleman, A., 2016. "Moral Responsibility," in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2016 Edition), E. N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/moral-responsibility/>

Eubanks, V., 2018. "Automating inequality: How high-tech tools profile, police, and punish the poor," New York: St. Martin's Press.

Felt, U., Fouché, R., Miller, C. A., & Smith-Doerr, L., 2016. The Handbook of Science and Technology Studies, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Fisher, J. M., 1999. "Recent work on moral responsibility," Ethics, 110(1): 93-139.>

Floridi, L., & J. Sanders, 2004. "On the Morality of Artificial Agents," Minds and Machines, 14(3): 349-379.

Floridi, L., 2013. "Distributed morality in an information society," Science and Engineering Ethics, 19(3): 727-743.

---, 2016. "Faultless responsibility: on the nature and allocation of moral responsibility for distributed moral actions," Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A (Mathematical Physical and Engineering Sciences), 374(2083); doi: 10.1098/rsta.2016.0112

Friedman, B., 1990. "Moral Responsibility and Computer Technology," Institute of Education Sciences ERIC Number ED321737, [Friedman 1990 available online].

--- (ed.), 1997. Human Values and the Design of Computer Technology, Stanford: CSLI Publications; New York: Cambridge University Press.

Gorwa, R., Binns, R., & Katzenbach, C., 2020. "Algorithmic content moderation: Technical and political challenges in the automation of platform governance," Big Data & Society, 7(1); first online 28 February 2020. doi:10.1177/2053951719897945

Gotterbarn D., 2001. "Informatics and professional responsibility," Science and Engineering Ethics, 7(2): 221-230.

Graubard, S. R., 1988. The Artificial Intelligence Debate: False Starts, Real Foundations, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Gray, C. H., 1997. "AI at War: The Aegis System in Combat," Directions and Implications of Advanced Computing, D. Schuler, (ed.), New York: Ablex, pp. 62-79.

Gunkel, D. J., 2020. "A vindication of the rights of machines," in Machine Ethics and Robot Ethics, W. Wallach and P. Asaro (eds.), London: Routledge, pp. 511-530.

Hakli, R. and Mäkelä, P., 2019. "Moral responsibility of robots and hybrid agents," The Monist, 102(2): 259-275.

Hart, H. L. A., 1968. Punishment and Responsibility, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Herkert, J., Borenstein, J., & Miller, K., 2020. "The Boeing 737 MAX: Lessons for engineering ethics". Science and engineering ethics, 26, 2957-2974.

Hughes, T.P., 1987. "The evolution of Large Technological System," in W. E. Bijker, T. P. Hughes, & T. Pinch (eds.), The Social Construction of Technological Systems, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, pp. 51-82.

IJsselsteijn, W., Y. de Korte, C. Midden, B. Eggen, & E. Hoven (eds.), 2006. Persuasive Technology, Berlin: Springer-Verlag.

Johnson, D. G., 2001. Computer Ethics, 3rd edition, Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice Hall.

---, 2006. "Computer Systems: Moral Entities but not Moral Agents," Ethics and Information Technology, 8: 195-204.

Johnson, D. G. & T. M. Power, 2005. "Computer systems and responsibility: A normative look at technological complexity," Ethics and Information Technology, 7: 99-107.

Jonas, H., 1984. The Imperative of Responsibility. In search of an Ethics for the Technological Age, Chicago: The Chicago University Press.

Kroes, P.& P.P. Verbeek (eds.), 2014. The Moral Status of Technical Artefacts, Dordrecht: Springer

Kuflik, A., 1999. "Computers in Control: Rational Transfer of Authority or Irresponsible Abdication of Authority?" Ethics and Information Technology, 1: 173-184.

Ladd. J., 1989. "Computers and Moral Responsibility. A Framework for an Ethical Analysis," in C.C. Gould (ed.), The Information Web. Ethical and Social Implications of Computer Networking, Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, pp. 207-228.

Latour, B., 1992. "Where are the Missing Masses? The Sociology of a Few Mundane Artefacts," in W. Bijker & J. Law (eds.), Shaping Technology/Building Society: Studies in Socio-Technical Change, Cambridge, Massachusetts: The MIT press, pp. 225-258.

Leveson, N. G. & C. S. Turner, 1993. "An Investigation of the Therac-25 Accidents," Computer, 26(7): 18-41.

Leveson, N., 1995. "Medical Devices: The Therac-25," in N. Leveson, Safeware. System, Safety and Computers, Boston: Addison-Wesley.

Martin, K., 2019. "Ethical implications and accountability of algorithms," Journal of Business Ethics, 160(4): 835-850.

Matthias, A., 2004. "The responsibility gap: Ascribing responsibility for the actions of learning automata," Ethics and Information Technology, 6: 175-183.

McCorduck, P., 1979. Machines Who Think, San Francisco: W.H. Freeman and Company.

Miller, K. W., 2008. "Critiquing a critique," Science and Engineering Ethics, 14(2): 245-249.

Moor, J.H., 2006. "The Nature, Importance, and Difficulty of Machine Ethics," Intelligent Systems (IEEE), 21(4): 18-21.

Nissenbaum, H., 1994. "Computing and Accountability," Communications of the Association for Computing Machinery, 37(1): 72-80.

---, 1997. "Accountability in a Computerized Society," in B. Friedman (ed.), Human Values and the Design of Computer Technology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 41-64.

Nass, C. & Y. Moon, 2000. "Machines and mindlessness: Social responses to computers," Journal of Social Issues, 56(1): 81-103.

Noorman, M., 2009. Mind the Gap: A Critique of Human/Technology Analogies in Artificial Agents Discourse, Maastricht: Universitaire Pers Maastricht.

---, 2012. "Responsibility Practices and Unmanned Military Technologies," Science and Engineering Ethics, 20(3): 809-826.

Nihlén Fahlquist, J., Doorn, N., &Van de Poel, I., 2015. "Design for the value of responsibility," in Handbook of ethics, values and technological design  : Sources, Theory, Values and Application Domains, Jeroen van den Hoven, Ibo van de Poel and Pieter Vermaas (eds.), Dordrecht: Springer.

Nyholm, S., 2018. "Attributing agency to automated systems: Reflections on human-robot collaborations and responsibility-loci," Science and engineering ethics, 24(4): 1201-1219.

Parasuraman, R. & V. Riley, 1997. "Humans and Automation: Use, Misuse, Disuse, Abuse," Human Factors: the Journal of the Human Factors Society, 39(2): 230-253.

Pasquale, F., 2015. The black box society: The secret algorithms that control money and information. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Polder-Verkiel, S. E., 2012. "Online responsibility: Bad samaritanism and the influence of internet mediation," Science and engineering ethics, 18(1): 117-141.

Ravenscraft, E., (2020). "How to Spot-and Avoid-Dark Patterns on the Web", Wired, July 29,Ravenscraft 2020 available online.

Reeves, B. & C. Nass, 1996. The Media Equation: How People Treat Computers, Television, and New Media Like Real People and Places, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Rosenthal-von der Pütten, A. M., Krämer, N. C., Hoffmann, L., Sobieraj, S., & Eimler, S. C., 2013. "An experimental study on emotional reactions towards a robot," International Journal of Social Robotics, 5(1): 17-34.

Sack, W., 1997. "Artificial Human Nature," Design Issues, 13: 55-64.

Santoni de Sio, F. and Van den Hoven, J., 2018. "Meaningful human control over autonomous systems: A philosophical account," Frontiers in Robotics and AI, 5, first online 28 February 2018. doi:10.3389/frobt.2018.00015

Santoni de Sio, F., & Mecacci, G., 2021. "Four responsibility gaps with artificial intelligence: Why they matter and how to address them," Philosophy & Technology, 34: 1057-1084.

Sartor, G. and M. Viola de Azevedo Cunha, 2010. "The Italian Google-Case: Privacy, Freedom of Speech and Responsibility of Providers for User-Generated Contents," International Journal of Law and Information Technology, 18(4): 356-378.

Searle, J. R., 1980. "Minds, brains, and programs" Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 3(3): 417-457.

Singel, R., 2010. "Does Italy's Google Conviction Portend More Censorship?" Wired (February 24th, 2010),Singel 2010 available online.

Sparrow, R., 2007. "Killer Robots," Journal of Applied Philosophy, 24(1): 62-77.

Stahl, B. C., 2004. "Information, Ethics, and Computers: The Problem of Autonomous Moral Agents," Minds and Machines, 14: 67-83.

---, 2006. "Responsible Computers? A Case for Ascribing Quasi-Responsibility to Computers Independent of Personhood or Agency," Ethics and Information Technology, 8: 205-213.

Stieb, J. A., 2008. "A Critique of Positive Responsibility in Computing," Science and Engineering Ethics, 14(2): 219-233.

Strawson, P., 1962. "Freedom and Resentment," in Proceedings of the British Academy, 48: 1-25.

Suchman, L., 1998. "Human/machine reconsidered," Cognitive Studies, 5(1): 5-13.

Sullins, J. P., 2006. "When is a Robot a Moral Agent?" International Review of Information Ethics, 6(12): 23-29.

Swierstra, T., Waelbers, K., 2012. "Designing a Good Life: A Matrix for the Technological Mediation of Morality," Science and Engineering Ethics, 18: 157-172. doi:10.1007/s11948-010-9251-1

Taddeo, M. and L. Floridi, 2015. "The Debate on the Moral Responsibilities of Online Service Providers," Science and Engineering Ethics, 22(6): 1575-1603.

Talbert, Matthew, 2022. "Moral Responsibility," The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2022 Edition), Edward N. Zalta & Uri Nodelman (eds.) URL = < href="https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/moral-responsibility/">https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/moral-responsibility/>.

Tigard, D. W., 2021a. "Responsible AI and moral responsibility: a common appreciation," AI and Ethics, 1(2): 113-117.

---, 2021b. "Artificial moral responsibility: How we can and cannot hold machines responsible," Cambridge Quarterly of Healthcare Ethics, 30(3): 435-447.

U.S. Department of Defense, 2009. "FY2009-2034 Unmanned Systems Integrated Roadmap," available online .

Van den Hoven, J., 2002. "Wadlopen bij Opkomend Tij: Denken over Ethiek en Informatiemaatschappij," in J. de Mul (ed.), Filosofie in Cyberspace, Kampen: Uitgeverij Klement, pp. 47-65.

Véliz, C., 2021. "Moral zombies: why algorithms are not moral agents," AI & Society, 36: 487-497. doi:10.1007/s00146-021-01189-x

Verbeek, P. P., 2006. "Materializing Morality: Design Ethics and Technological Mediation," Science, Technology and Human Values, 31(3): 361-380.

Verbeek, P. P., 2021. What Things Do, University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press.

Vidal, J., 2004. "The alco-lock is claimed to foil drink-drivers. Then the man from the Guardian had a go ...," The Guardian, August 5th, 2004.

Waelbers, K., 2009. "Technological Delegation: Responsibility for the Unintended," Science & Engineering Ethics, 15(1): 51-68.

Wallach, W. and C. Allen, 2009. Moral Machines. Teaching Robots Right from Wrong, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Whitby, B., 2008. "Sometimes it's hard to be a robot. A call for action on the ethics of abusing artificial agents," Interacting with Computers, 20(3): 326-333.

John Zerilli; John Danaher; James Maclaurin; Colin Gavaghan; Alistair Knott; Joy Liddicoat; Merel Noorman, 2021. "7 Autonomy," in A Citizens Guide to Artificial Intelligence, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 107-126.

Zuboff, S., 1982. "Automate/Informate: The Two Faces of Intelligent Technology," Organizational Dynamics, 14(2):5-18

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Moral responsibility is about human action and its intentions and consequences (Fisher 1999, Eshleman 2016, Talbert 2022). Generally speaking a person or a group of people is morally responsible when their voluntary actions have morally significant outcomes that would make it appropriate to blame or praise them.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores how risk assessment software used across the U.S. to predict future criminals exhibits bias against black people, leading to disparities in the criminal justice system

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
On a spring afternoon in 2014, Brisha Borden was running late to pick up her god-sister from school when she spotted an unlocked kid's blue Huffy bicycle and a silver Razor scooter. Borden and a friend grabbed the bike and scooter and tried to ride them down the street in the Fort Lauderdale suburb of Coral Springs.

Just as the 18-year-old girls were realizing they were too big for the tiny conveyances - which belonged to a 6-year-old boy - a woman came running after them saying, "That's my kid's stuff." Borden and her friend immediately dropped the bike and scooter and walked away.

But it was too late - a neighbor who witnessed the heist had already called the police. Borden and her friend were arrested and charged with burglary and petty theft for the items, which were valued at a total of $80.

Subscribe to the Series

Machine Bias: Investigating the algorithms that control our lives.

Compare their crime with a similar one: The previous summer, 41-year-old Vernon Prater was picked up for shoplifting $86.35 worth of tools from a nearby Home Depot store.

Prater was the more seasoned criminal. He had already been convicted of armed robbery and attempted armed robbery, for which he served five years in prison, in addition to another armed robbery charge. Borden had a record, too, but it was for misdemeanors committed when she was a juvenile.

Yet something odd happened when Borden and Prater were booked into jail: A computer program spat out a score predicting the likelihood of each committing a future crime. Borden - who is black - was rated a high risk. Prater - who is white - was rated a low risk.

Two years later, we know the computer algorithm got it exactly backward. Borden has not been charged with any new crimes. Prater is serving an eight-year prison term for subsequently breaking into a warehouse and stealing thousands of dollars' worth of electronics.

Scores like this - known as risk assessments - are increasingly common in courtrooms across the nation. They are used to inform decisions about who can be set free at every stage of the criminal justice system, from assigning bond amounts - as is the case in Fort Lauderdale - to even more fundamental decisions about defendants' freedom. In Arizona, Colorado, Delaware, Kentucky, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Virginia, Washington and Wisconsin, the results of such assessments are given to judges during criminal sentencing.

Rating a defendant's risk of future crime is often done in conjunction with an evaluation of a defendant's rehabilitation needs. The Justice Department's National Institute of Corrections now encourages the use of such combined assessments at every stage of the criminal justice process. And a landmark sentencing reform bill currently pending in Congress would mandate the use of such assessments in federal prisons.

In 2014, then U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder warned that the risk scores might be injecting bias into the courts. He called for the U.S. Sentencing Commission to study their use. "Although these measures were crafted with the best of intentions, I am concerned that they inadvertently undermine our efforts to ensure individualized and equal justice," he said, adding, "they may exacerbate unwarranted and unjust disparities that are already far too common in our criminal justice system and in our society."

The sentencing commission did not, however, launch a study of risk scores. So ProPublica did, as part of a larger examination of the powerful, largely hidden effect of algorithms in American life.

We obtained the risk scores assigned to more than 7,000 people arrested in Broward County, Florida, in 2013 and 2014 and checked to see how many were charged with new crimes over the next two years, the same benchmark used by the creators of the algorithm.

The score proved remarkably unreliable in forecasting violent crime: Only 20 percent of the people predicted to commit violent crimes actually went on to do so.

When a full range of crimes were taken into account - including misdemeanors such as driving with an expired license - the algorithm was somewhat more accurate than a coin flip. Of those deemed likely to re-offend, 61 percent were arrested for any subsequent crimes within two years.

We also turned up significant racial disparities, just as Holder feared. In forecasting who would re-offend, the algorithm made mistakes with black and white defendants at roughly the same rate but in very different ways.

The formula was particularly likely to falsely flag black defendants as future criminals, wrongly labeling them this way at almost twice the rate as white defendants.

White defendants were mislabeled as low risk more often than black defendants.

Could this disparity be explained by defendants' prior crimes or the type of crimes they were arrested for? No. We ran a statistical test that isolated the effect of race from criminal history and recidivism, as well as from defendants' age and gender. Black defendants were still 77 percent more likely to be pegged as at higher risk of committing a future violent crime and 45 percent more likely to be predicted to commit a future crime of any kind. ( Read our analysis.)

The algorithm used to create the Florida risk scores is a product of a for-profit company, Northpointe. The company disputes our analysis.

In a letter, it criticized ProPublica's methodology and defended the accuracy of its test: "Northpointe does not agree that the results of your analysis, or the claims being made based upon that analysis, are correct or that they accurately reflect the outcomes from the application of the model."

Northpointe's software is among the most widely used assessment tools in the country. The company does not publicly disclose the calculations used to arrive at defendants' risk scores, so it is not possible for either defendants or the public to see what might be driving the disparity. (On Sunday, Northpointe gave ProPublica the basics of its future-crime formula - which includes factors such as education levels, and whether a defendant has a job. It did not share the specific calculations, which it said are proprietary.)

Northpointe's core product is a set of scores derived from 137 questions that are either answered by defendants or pulled from criminal records. Race is not one of the questions. The survey asks defendants such things as: "Was one of your parents ever sent to jail or prison?" "How many of your friends/acquaintances are taking drugs illegally?" and "How often did you get in fights while at school?" The questionnaire also asks people to agree or disagree with statements such as "A hungry person has a right to steal" and "If people make me angry or lose my temper, I can be dangerous."

The appeal of risk scores is obvious: The United States locks up far more people than any other country, a disproportionate number of them black. For more than two centuries, the key decisions in the legal process, from pretrial release to sentencing to parole, have been in the hands of human beings guided by their instincts and personal biases.

If computers could accurately predict which defendants were likely to commit new crimes, the criminal justice system could be fairer and more selective about who is incarcerated and for how long. The trick, of course, is to make sure the computer gets it right. If it's wrong in one direction, a dangerous criminal could go free. If it's wrong in another direction, it could result in someone unfairly receiving a harsher sentence or waiting longer for parole than is appropriate.

The first time Paul Zilly heard of his score - and realized how much was riding on it - was during his sentencing hearing on Feb. 15, 2013, in court in Barron County, Wisconsin. Zilly had been convicted of stealing a push lawnmower and some tools. The prosecutor recommended a year in county jail and follow-up supervision that could help Zilly with "staying on the right path." His lawyer agreed to a plea deal.

But Judge James Babler had seen Zilly's scores. Northpointe's software had rated Zilly as a high risk for future violent crime and a medium risk for general recidivism. "When I look at the risk assessment," Babler said in court, "it is about as bad as it could be."

Then Babler overturned the plea deal that had been agreed on by the prosecution and defense and imposed two years in state prison and three years of supervision.

Criminologists have long tried to predict which criminals are more dangerous before deciding whether they should be released. Race, nationality and skin color were often used in making such predictions until about the 1970s, when it became politically unacceptable, according to a survey of risk assessment tools by Columbia University law professor Bernard Harcourt.

In the 1980s, as a crime wave engulfed the nation, lawmakers made it much harder for judges and parole boards to exercise discretion in making such decisions. States and the federal government began instituting mandatory sentences and, in some cases, abolished parole, making it less important to evaluate individual offenders.

But as states struggle to pay for swelling prison and jail populations, forecasting criminal risk has made a comeback.

Dozens of risk assessments are being used across the nation - some created by for-profit companies such as Northpointe and others by nonprofit organizations. (One tool being used in states including Kentucky and Arizona, called the Public Safety Assessment, was developed by the Laura and John Arnold Foundation, which also is a funder of ProPublica.)

There have been few independent studies of these criminal risk assessments. In 2013, researchers Sarah Desmarais and Jay Singh examined 19 different risk methodologies used in the United States and found that "in most cases, validity had only been examined in one or two studies" and that "frequently, those investigations were completed by the same people who developed the instrument."

Their analysis of the research through 2012 found that the tools "were moderate at best in terms of predictive validity," Desmarais said in an interview. And she could not find any substantial set of studies conducted in the United States that examined whether risk scores were racially biased. "The data do not exist," she said.

Since then, there have been some attempts to explore racial disparities in risk scores. One 2016 study examined the validity of a risk assessment tool, not Northpointe's, used to make probation decisions for about 35,000 federal convicts. The researchers, Jennifer Skeem at University of California, Berkeley, and Christopher T. Lowenkamp from the Administrative Office of the U.S. Courts, found that blacks did get a higher average score but concluded the differences were not attributable to bias.

The increasing use of risk scores is controversial and has garnered media coverage, including articles by the Associated Press, and the Marshall Project and FiveThirtyEight last year.

Most modern risk tools were originally designed to provide judges with insight into the types of treatment that an individual might need - from drug treatment to mental health counseling.

"What it tells the judge is that if I put you on probation, I'm going to need to give you a lot of services or you're probably going to fail," said Edward Latessa, a University of Cincinnati professor who is the author of a risk assessment tool that is used in Ohio and several other states.

But being judged ineligible for alternative treatment - particularly during a sentencing hearing - can translate into incarceration. Defendants rarely have an opportunity to challenge their assessments. The results are usually shared with the defendant's attorney, but the calculations that transformed the underlying data into a score are rarely revealed.

"Risk assessments should be impermissible unless both parties get to see all the data that go into them," said Christopher Slobogin, director of the criminal justice program at Vanderbilt Law School. "It should be an open, full-court adversarial proceeding."

Black Defendants' Risk Scores

White Defendants' Risk Scores

These charts show that scores for white defendants were skewed toward lower-risk categories. Scores for black defendants were not. (Source: ProPublica analysis of data from Broward County, Fla.)

Proponents of risk scores argue they can be used to reduce the rate of incarceration. In 2002, Virginia became one of the first states to begin using a risk assessment tool in the sentencing of nonviolent felony offenders statewide. In 2014, Virginia judges using the tool sent nearly half of those defendants to alternatives to prison, according to a state sentencing commission report. Since 2005, the state's prison population growth has slowed to 5 percent from a rate of 31 percent the previous decade.

In some jurisdictions, such as Napa County, California, the probation department uses risk assessments to suggest to the judge an appropriate probation or treatment plan for individuals being sentenced. Napa County Superior Court Judge Mark Boessenecker said he finds the recommendations helpful. "We have a dearth of good treatment programs, so filling a slot in a program with someone who doesn't need it is foolish," he said.

However, Boessenecker, who trains other judges around the state in evidence-based sentencing, cautions his colleagues that the score doesn't necessarily reveal whether a person is dangerous or if they should go to prison.

"A guy who has molested a small child every day for a year could still come out as a low risk because he probably has a job," Boessenecker said. "Meanwhile, a drunk guy will look high risk because he's homeless. These risk factors don't tell you whether the guy ought to go to prison or not; the risk factors tell you more about what the probation conditions ought to be."

"I'm surprised [my risk score] is so low. I spent five years in state prison in Massachusetts." (Josh Ritchie for ProPublica)

Sometimes, the scores make little sense even to defendants.

James Rivelli, a 54-year old Hollywood, Florida, man, was arrested two years ago for shoplifting seven boxes of Crest Whitestrips from a CVS drugstore. Despite a criminal record that included aggravated assault, multiple thefts and felony drug trafficking, the Northpointe algorithm classified him as being at a low risk of reoffending.

"I am surprised it is so low," Rivelli said when told by a reporter he had been rated a 3 out of a possible 10. "I spent five years in state prison in Massachusetts. But I guess they don't count that here in Broward County." In fact, criminal records from across the nation are supposed to be included in risk assessments.

Less than a year later, he was charged with two felony counts for shoplifting about $1,000 worth of tools from Home Depot. He said his crimes were fueled by drug addiction and that he is now sober.

Northpointe was founded in 1989 by Tim Brennan, then a professor of statistics at the University of Colorado, and Dave Wells, who was running a corrections program in Traverse City, Michigan.

Wells had built a prisoner classification system for his jail. "It was a beautiful piece of work," Brennan said in an interview conducted before ProPublica had completed its analysis. Brennan and Wells shared a love for what Brennan called "quantitative taxonomy" - the measurement of personality traits such as intelligence, extroversion and introversion. The two decided to build a risk assessment score for the corrections industry.

Brennan wanted to improve on a leading risk assessment score, the LSI, or Level of Service Inventory, which had been developed in Canada. "I found a fair amount of weakness in the LSI," Brennan said. He wanted a tool that addressed the major theories about the causes of crime.

Brennan and Wells named their product the Correctional Offender Management Profiling for Alternative Sanctions, or COMPAS. It assesses not just risk but also nearly two dozen so-called "criminogenic needs" that relate to the major theories of criminality, including "criminal personality," "social isolation," "substance abuse" and "residence/stability." Defendants are ranked low, medium or high risk in each category.

As often happens with risk assessment tools, many jurisdictions have adopted Northpointe's software before rigorously testing whether it works. New York State, for instance, started using the tool to assess people on probation in a pilot project in 2001 and rolled it out to the rest of the state's probation departments - except New York City - by 2010. The state didn't publish a comprehensive statistical evaluation of the tool until 2012. The study of more than 16,000 probationers found the tool was 71 percent accurate, but it did not evaluate racial differences.

A spokeswoman for the New York state division of criminal justice services said the study did not examine race because it only sought to test whether the tool had been properly calibrated to fit New York's probation population. She also said judges in nearly all New York counties are given defendants' Northpointe assessments during sentencing.

In 2009, Brennan and two colleagues published a validation study that found that Northpointe's risk of recidivism score had an accuracy rate of 68 percent in a sample of 2,328 people. Their study also found that the score was slightly less predictive for black men than white men - 67 percent versus 69 percent. It did not examine racial disparities beyond that, including whether some groups were more likely to be wrongly labeled higher risk.

Brennan said it is difficult to construct a score that doesn't include items that can be correlated with race - such as poverty, joblessness and social marginalization. "If those are omitted from your risk assessment, accuracy goes down," he said.

In 2011, Brennan and Wells sold Northpointe to Toronto-based conglomerate Constellation Software for an undisclosed sum.

Wisconsin has been among the most eager and expansive users of Northpointe's risk assessment tool in sentencing decisions. In 2012, the Wisconsin Department of Corrections launched the use of the software throughout the state. It is used at each step in the prison system, from sentencing to parole.

In a 2012 presentation, corrections official Jared Hoy described the system as a " giant correctional pinball machine " in which correctional officers could use the scores at every "decision point."

Wisconsin has not yet completed a statistical validation study of the tool and has not said when one might be released. State corrections officials declined repeated requests to comment for this article.

Some Wisconsin counties use other risk assessment tools at arrest to determine if a defendant is too risky for pretrial release. Once a defendant is convicted of a felony anywhere in the state, the Department of Corrections attaches Northpointe's assessment to the confidential presentence report given to judges, according to Hoy's presentation.

In theory, judges are not supposed to give longer sentences to defendants with higher risk scores. Rather, they are supposed to use the tests primarily to determine which defendants are eligible for probation or treatment programs.

Prediction Fails Differently for Black Defendants

Overall, Northpointe's assessment tool correctly predicts recidivism 61 percent of the time. But blacks are almost twice as likely as whites to be labeled a higher risk but not actually re-offend. It makes the opposite mistake among whites: They are much more likely than blacks to be labeled lower risk but go on to commit other crimes. (Source: ProPublica analysis of data from Broward County, Fla.)

But judges have cited scores in their sentencing decisions. In August 2013, Judge Scott Horne in La Crosse County, Wisconsin, declared that defendant Eric Loomis had been "identified, through the COMPAS assessment, as an individual who is at high risk to the community." The judge then imposed a sentence of eight years and six months in prison.

Loomis, who was charged with driving a stolen vehicle and fleeing from police, is challenging the use of the score at sentencing as a violation of his due process rights. The state has defended Horne's use of the score with the argument that judges can consider the score in addition to other factors. It has also stopped including scores in presentencing reports until the state Supreme Court decides the case.

"The risk score alone should not determine the sentence of an offender," Wisconsin Assistant Attorney General Christine Remington said last month during state Supreme Court arguments in the Loomis case. "We don't want courts to say, this person in front of me is a 10 on COMPAS as far as risk, and therefore I'm going to give him the maximum sentence."

That is almost exactly what happened to Zilly, the 48-year-old construction worker sent to prison for stealing a push lawnmower and some tools he intended to sell for parts. Zilly has long struggled with a meth habit. In 2012, he had been working toward recovery with the help of a Christian pastor when he relapsed and committed the thefts.

After Zilly was scored as a high risk for violent recidivism and sent to prison, a public defender appealed the sentence and called the score's creator, Brennan, as a witness.

Brennan testified that he didn't design his software to be used in sentencing. "I wanted to stay away from the courts," Brennan said, explaining that his focus was on reducing crime rather than punishment. "But as time went on I started realizing that so many decisions are made, you know, in the courts. So I gradually softened on whether this could be used in the courts or not."

"Not that I'm innocent, but I just believe people do change." (Stephen Maturen for ProPublica)

Still, Brennan testified, "I don't like the idea myself of COMPAS being the sole evidence that a decision would be based upon."

After Brennan's testimony, Judge Babler reduced Zilly's sentence, from two years in prison to 18 months. "Had I not had the COMPAS, I believe it would likely be that I would have given one year, six months," the judge said at an appeals hearing on Nov. 14, 2013.

Zilly said the score didn't take into account all the changes he was making in his life - his conversion to Christianity, his struggle to quit using drugs and his efforts to be more available for his son. "Not that I'm innocent, but I just believe people do change."

Florida's Broward County, where Brisha Borden stole the Huffy bike and was scored as high risk, does not use risk assessments in sentencing. "We don't think the [risk assessment] factors have any bearing on a sentence," said David Scharf, executive director of community programs for the Broward County Sheriff's Office in Fort Lauderdale.

Broward County has, however, adopted the score in pretrial hearings, in the hope of addressing jail overcrowding. A court-appointed monitor has overseen Broward County's jails since 1994 as a result of the settlement of a lawsuit brought by inmates in the 1970s. Even now, years later, the Broward County jail system is often more than 85 percent full, Scharf said.

In 2008, the sheriff's office decided that instead of building another jail, it would begin using Northpointe's risk scores to help identify which defendants were low risk enough to be released on bail pending trial. Since then, nearly everyone arrested in Broward has been scored soon after being booked. (People charged with murder and other capital crimes are not scored because they are not eligible for pretrial release.)

The scores are provided to the judges who decide which defendants can be released from jail. "My feeling is that if they don't need them to be in jail, let's get them out of there," Scharf said.

Scharf said the county chose Northpointe's software over other tools because it was easy to use and produced "simple yet effective charts and graphs for judicial review." He said the system costs about $22,000 a year.

In 2010, researchers at Florida State University examined the use of Northpointe's system in Broward County over a 12-month period and concluded that its predictive accuracy was "equivalent" in assessing defendants of different races. Like others, they did not examine whether different races were classified differently as low or high risk.

Scharf said the county would review ProPublica's findings. "We'll really look at them up close," he said.

Broward County Judge John Hurley, who oversees most of the pretrial release hearings, said the scores were helpful when he was a new judge, but now that he has experience he prefers to rely on his own judgment. "I haven't relied on COMPAS in a couple years," he said.

Hurley said he relies on factors including a person's prior criminal record, the type of crime committed, ties to the community, and their history of failing to appear at court proceedings.

ProPublica's analysis reveals that higher Northpointe scores are slightly correlated with longer pretrial incarceration in Broward County. But there are many reasons that could be true other than judges being swayed by the scores - people with higher risk scores may also be poorer and have difficulty paying bond, for example.

Most crimes are presented to the judge with a recommended bond amount, but he or she can adjust the amount. Hurley said he often releases first-time or low-level offenders without any bond at all.

However, in the case of Borden and her friend Sade Jones, the teenage girls who stole a kid's bike and scooter, Hurley raised the bond amount for each girl from the recommended $0 to $1,000 each.

Hurley said he has no recollection of the case and cannot recall if the scores influenced his decision.

Sade Jones, who had never been arrested before, was rated a medium risk. (Josh Ritchie for ProPublica)

The girls spent two nights in jail before being released on bond.

"We literally sat there and cried" the whole time they were in jail, Jones recalled. The girls were kept in the same cell. Otherwise, Jones said, "I would have gone crazy." Borden declined repeated requests to comment for this article.

Jones, who had never been arrested before, was rated a medium risk. She completed probation and got the felony burglary charge reduced to misdemeanor trespassing, but she has still struggled to find work.

"I went to McDonald's and a dollar store, and they all said no because of my background," she said. "It's all kind of difficult and unnecessary."

Julia Angwin is a senior reporter at ProPublica. From 2000 to 2013, she was a reporter at The Wall Street Journal, where she led a privacy investigative team that was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize in Explanatory Reporting in 2011 and won a Gerald Loeb Award in 2010.

Lauren Kirchner is a senior reporting fellow at ProPublica. Surya Mattu is a contributing researcher. Design and production by Rob Weychert and David Sleight.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
There's software used across the country to predict future criminals. And it's biased against blacks.

# data[].attributes.headline
7.8 Algorithmic Bias: On the Implicit Biases of Social Technology

# data[].attributes.subject
7.8 Algorithmic Bias: On the Implicit Biases of Social Technology

# data[].attributes.body
This paper explores the relationship between machine bias and human cognitive bias, and how algorithms amplify human biases.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Johnson, Gabbrielle (2020) Algorithmic Bias: On the Implicit Biases of Social Technology. [Preprint]

Abstract

Often machine learning programs inherit social patterns reflected in their training data without any directed effort by programmers to include such biases. Computer scientists call this algorithmic bias. This paper explores the relationship between machine bias and human cognitive bias. In it, I argue similarities between algorithmic and cognitive biases indicate a disconcerting sense in which sources of bias emerge out of seemingly innocuous patterns of information processing. The emergent nature of this bias obscures the existence of the bias itself, making it difficult to identify, mitigate, or evaluate using standard resources in epistemology and ethics. I demonstrate these points in the case of mitigation techniques by presenting what I call 'the Proxy Problem'. One reason biases resist revision is that they rely on proxy attributes, seemingly innocuous attributes that correlate with socially-sensitive attributes, serving as proxies for the socially-sensitive attributes themselves. I argue that in both human and algorithmic domains, this problem presents a common dilemma for mitigation: attempts to discourage reliance on proxy attributes risk a tradeoff with judgement accuracy. This problem, I contend, admits of no purely algorithmic solution.

Monthly Views for the past 3 years

Monthly Downloads for the past 3 years

Plum Analytics

Actions (login required)

View Item

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Algorithmic Bias: On the Implicit Biases of Social Technology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Johnson, Gabbrielle (2020) Algorithmic Bias: On the Implicit Biases of Social Technology. [Preprint] Often machine learning programs inherit social patterns reflected in their training data without any directed effort by programmers to include such biases. Computer scientists call this algorithmic bias. This paper explores the relationship between machine bias and human cognitive bias.

# data[].attributes.body
This talk explores algorithmic biases and how it may not be good for democracy.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Cathy O'Neil | Weapons of Math Destruction

# data[].attributes.headline
7.10 The Era of Blind Faith in Big Data Must End

# data[].attributes.subject
7.10 The Era of Blind Faith in Big Data Must End

# data[].attributes.body
Algorithms decide who gets a loan, who gets an interview, who gets insurance and more – but they do not automatically make things fair. This video explores how algorithms can be biased and unfair.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The era of blind faith in big data must end | Cathy O'Neil

# data[].attributes.headline
7.11 Artificial Intelligence & Personhood: Crash Course Philosophy #23

# data[].attributes.subject
7.11 Artificial Intelligence & Personhood: Crash Course Philosophy #23

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores artificial intelligence, including weak AI and strong AI, and its relation to personhood.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Artificial Intelligence & Personhood: Crash Course Philosophy #23

# data[].attributes.headline
7.12 Ethics of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics

# data[].attributes.subject
7.12 Ethics of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the profound ethical implications and dilemmas associated with the development and application of artificial intelligence (AI) and robotics, examining issues such as privacy, bias, autonomy, the role of AI as both tools and potential moral agents, and the challenges posed by the prospect of superintelligent AI systems, all within the context of their impact on humanity's future and the necessity for thoughtful policy development .

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Artificial intelligence (AI) and robotics are digital technologies that will have significant impact on the development of humanity in the near future. They have raised fundamental questions about what we should do with these systems, what the systems themselves should do, what risks they involve, and how we can control these.

After the Introduction to the field (§1), the main themes (§2) of this article are: Ethical issues that arise with AI systems as objects, i.e., tools made and used by humans. This includes issues of privacy (§2.1) and manipulation (§2.2), opacity (§2.3) and bias (§2.4), human-robot interaction (§2.5), employment (§2.6), and the effects of autonomy (§2.7). Then AI systems as subjects, i.e., ethics for the AI systems themselves in machine ethics (§2.8) and artificial moral agency (§2.9). Finally, the problem of a possible future AI superintelligence leading to a "singularity" (§2.10). We close with a remark on the vision of AI (§3).

For each section within these themes, we provide a general explanation of the ethical issues, outline existing positions and arguments, then analyse how these play out with current technologies and finally, what policy consequences may be drawn.

1. Introduction

1.1 Background of the Field

The ethics of AI and robotics is often focused on "concerns" of various sorts, which is a typical response to new technologies. Many such concerns turn out to be rather quaint (trains are too fast for souls); some are predictably wrong when they suggest that the technology will fundamentally change humans (telephones will destroy personal communication, writing will destroy memory, video cassettes will make going out redundant); some are broadly correct but moderately relevant (digital technology will destroy industries that make photographic film, cassette tapes, or vinyl records); but some are broadly correct and deeply relevant (cars will kill children and fundamentally change the landscape). The task of an article such as this is to analyse the issues and to deflate the non-issues.

Some technologies, like nuclear power, cars, or plastics, have caused ethical and political discussion and significant policy efforts to control the trajectory these technologies, usually only once some damage is done. In addition to such "ethical concerns", new technologies challenge current norms and conceptual systems, which is of particular interest to philosophy. Finally, once we have understood a technology in its context, we need to shape our societal response, including regulation and law. All these features also exist in the case of new AI and Robotics technologies-plus the more fundamental fear that they may end the era of human control on Earth.

The ethics of AI and robotics has seen significant press coverage in recent years, which supports related research, but also may end up undermining it: the press often talks as if the issues under discussion were just predictions of what future technology will bring, and as though we already know what would be most ethical and how to achieve that. Press coverage thus focuses on risk, security (Brundage et al. 2018, in the Other Internet Resources section below, hereafter [OIR]), and prediction of impact (e.g., on the job market). The result is a discussion of essentially technical problems that focus on how to achieve a desired outcome. Current discussions in policy and industry are also motivated by image and public relations, where the label "ethical" is really not much more than the new "green", perhaps used for "ethics washing". For a problem to qualify as a problem for AI ethics would require that we do not readily know what the right thing to do is. In this sense, job loss, theft, or killing with AI is not a problem in ethics, but whether these are permissible under certain circumstances is a problem. This article focuses on the genuine problems of ethics where we do not readily know what the answers are.

A last caveat: The ethics of AI and robotics is a very young field within applied ethics, with significant dynamics, but few well-established issues and no authoritative overviews-though there is a promising outline (European Group on Ethics in Science and New Technologies 2018) and there are beginnings on societal impact (Floridi et al. 2018; Taddeo and Floridi 2018; S. Taylor et al. 2018; Walsh 2018; Bryson 2019; Gibert 2019; Whittlestone et al. 2019), and policy recommendations (AI HLEG 2019 [OIR]; IEEE 2019). So this article cannot merely reproduce what the community has achieved thus far, but must propose an ordering where little order exists.

1.2 AI & Robotics

The notion of "artificial intelligence" (AI) is understood broadly as any kind of artificial computational system that shows intelligent behaviour, i.e., complex behaviour that is conducive to reaching goals. In particular, we do not wish to restrict "intelligence" to what would require intelligence if done by humans, as Minsky had suggested (1985). This means we incorporate a range of machines, including those in "technical AI", that show only limited abilities in learning or reasoning but excel at the automation of particular tasks, as well as machines in "general AI" that aim to create a generally intelligent agent.

AI somehow gets closer to our skin than other technologies-thus the field of "philosophy of AI". Perhaps this is because the project of AI is to create machines that have a feature central to how we humans see ourselves, namely as feeling, thinking, intelligent beings. The main purposes of an artificially intelligent agent probably involve sensing, modelling, planning and action, but current AI applications also include perception, text analysis, natural language processing (NLP), logical reasoning, game-playing, decision support systems, data analytics, predictive analytics, as well as autonomous vehicles and other forms of robotics (P. Stone et al. 2016). AI may involve any number of computational techniques to achieve these aims, be that classical symbol-manipulating AI, inspired by natural cognition, or machine learning via neural networks (Goodfellow, Bengio, and Courville 2016; Silver et al. 2018).

Historically, it is worth noting that the term "AI" was used as above ca. 1950-1975, then came into disrepute during the "AI winter", ca. 1975-1995, and narrowed. As a result, areas such as "machine learning", "natural language processing" and "data science" were often not labelled as "AI". Since ca. 2010, the use has broadened again, and at times almost all of computer science and even high-tech is lumped under "AI". Now it is a name to be proud of, a booming industry with massive capital investment (Shoham et al. 2018), and on the edge of hype again. As Erik Brynjolfsson noted, it may allow us to

virtually eliminate global poverty, massively reduce disease and provide better education to almost everyone on the planet. (quoted in Anderson, Rainie, and Luchsinger 2018)

While AI can be entirely software, robots are physical machines that move. Robots are subject to physical impact, typically through "sensors", and they exert physical force onto the world, typically through "actuators", like a gripper or a turning wheel. Accordingly, autonomous cars or planes are robots, and only a minuscule portion of robots is "humanoid" (human-shaped), like in the movies. Some robots use AI, and some do not: Typical industrial robots blindly follow completely defined scripts with minimal sensory input and no learning or reasoning (around 500,000 such new industrial robots are installed each year (IFR 2019 [OIR])). It is probably fair to say that while robotics systems cause more concerns in the general public, AI systems are more likely to have a greater impact on humanity. Also, AI or robotics systems for a narrow set of tasks are less likely to cause new issues than systems that are more flexible and autonomous.

Robotics and AI can thus be seen as covering two overlapping sets of systems: systems that are only AI, systems that are only robotics, and systems that are both. We are interested in all three; the scope of this article is thus not only the intersection, but the union, of both sets.

1.3 A Note on Policy

Policy is only one of the concerns of this article. There is significant public discussion about AI ethics, and there are frequent pronouncements from politicians that the matter requires new policy, which is easier said than done: Actual technology policy is difficult to plan and enforce. It can take many forms, from incentives and funding, infrastructure, taxation, or good-will statements, to regulation by various actors, and the law. Policy for AI will possibly come into conflict with other aims of technology policy or general policy. Governments, parliaments, associations, and industry circles in industrialised countries have produced reports and white papers in recent years, and some have generated good-will slogans ("trusted/responsible/humane/human-centred/good/beneficial AI"), but is that what is needed? For a survey, see Jobin, Ienca, and Vayena (2019) and V. Müller's list of PT-AI Policy Documents and Institutions.

For people who work in ethics and policy, there might be a tendency to overestimate the impact and threats from a new technology, and to underestimate how far current regulation can reach (e.g., for product liability). On the other hand, there is a tendency for businesses, the military, and some public administrations to "just talk" and do some "ethics washing" in order to preserve a good public image and continue as before. Actually implementing legally binding regulation would challenge existing business models and practices. Actual policy is not just an implementation of ethical theory, but subject to societal power structures-and the agents that do have the power will push against anything that restricts them. There is thus a significant risk that regulation will remain toothless in the face of economical and political power.

Though very little actual policy has been produced, there are some notable beginnings: The latest EU policy document suggests "trustworthy AI" should be lawful, ethical, and technically robust, and then spells this out as seven requirements: human oversight, technical robustness, privacy and data governance, transparency, fairness, well-being, and accountability (AI HLEG 2019 [OIR]). Much European research now runs under the slogan of "responsible research and innovation" (RRI), and "technology assessment" has been a standard field since the advent of nuclear power. Professional ethics is also a standard field in information technology, and this includes issues that are relevant in this article. Perhaps a "code of ethics" for AI engineers, analogous to the codes of ethics for medical doctors, is an option here (Véliz 2019). What data science itself should do is addressed in (L. Taylor and Purtova 2019). We also expect that much policy will eventually cover specific uses or technologies of AI and robotics, rather than the field as a whole. A useful summary of an ethical framework for AI is given in (European Group on Ethics in Science and New Technologies 2018: 13ff). On general AI policy, see Calo (2018) as well as Crawford and Calo (2016); Stahl, Timmermans, and Mittelstadt (2016); Johnson and Verdicchio (2017); and Giubilini and Savulescu (2018). A more political angle of technology is often discussed in the field of "Science and Technology Studies" (STS). As books like The Ethics of Invention (Jasanoff 2016) show, concerns in STS are often quite similar to those in ethics (Jacobs et al. 2019 [OIR]). In this article, we discuss the policy for each type of issue separately rather than for AI or robotics in general.

2. Main Debates

In this section we outline the ethical issues of human use of AI and robotics systems that can be more or less autonomous-which means we look at issues that arise with certain uses of the technologies which would not arise with others. It must be kept in mind, however, that technologies will always cause some uses to be easier, and thus more frequent, and hinder other uses. The design of technical artefacts thus has ethical relevance for their use (Houkes and Vermaas 2010; Verbeek 2011), so beyond "responsible use", we also need "responsible design" in this field. The focus on use does not presuppose which ethical approaches are best suited for tackling these issues; they might well be virtue ethics (Vallor 2017) rather than consequentialist or value-based (Floridi et al. 2018). This section is also neutral with respect to the question whether AI systems truly have "intelligence" or other mental properties: It would apply equally well if AI and robotics are merely seen as the current face of automation (cf. Müller forthcoming-b).

2.1 Privacy & Surveillance

There is a general discussion about privacy and surveillance in information technology (e.g., Macnish 2017; Roessler 2017), which mainly concerns the access to private data and data that is personally identifiable. Privacy has several well recognised aspects, e.g., "the right to be let alone", information privacy, privacy as an aspect of personhood, control over information about oneself, and the right to secrecy (Bennett and Raab 2006). Privacy studies have historically focused on state surveillance by secret services but now include surveillance by other state agents, businesses, and even individuals. The technology has changed significantly in the last decades while regulation has been slow to respond (though there is the Regulation (EU) 2016/679)-the result is a certain anarchy that is exploited by the most powerful players, sometimes in plain sight, sometimes in hiding.

The digital sphere has widened greatly: All data collection and storage is now digital, our lives are increasingly digital, most digital data is connected to a single Internet, and there is more and more sensor technology in use that generates data about non-digital aspects of our lives. AI increases both the possibilities of intelligent data collection and the possibilities for data analysis. This applies to blanket surveillance of whole populations as well as to classic targeted surveillance. In addition, much of the data is traded between agents, usually for a fee.

At the same time, controlling who collects which data, and who has access, is much harder in the digital world than it was in the analogue world of paper and telephone calls. Many new AI technologies amplify the known issues. For example, face recognition in photos and videos allows identification and thus profiling and searching for individuals (Whittaker et al. 2018: 15ff). This continues using other techniques for identification, e.g., "device fingerprinting", which are commonplace on the Internet (sometimes revealed in the "privacy policy"). The result is that "In this vast ocean of data, there is a frighteningly complete picture of us" (Smolan 2016: 1:01). The result is arguably a scandal that still has not received due public attention.

The data trail we leave behind is how our "free" services are paid for-but we are not told about that data collection and the value of this new raw material, and we are manipulated into leaving ever more such data. For the "big 5" companies (Amazon, Google/Alphabet, Microsoft, Apple, Facebook), the main data-collection part of their business appears to be based on deception, exploiting human weaknesses, furthering procrastination, generating addiction, and manipulation (Harris 2016 [OIR]). The primary focus of social media, gaming, and most of the Internet in this "surveillance economy" is to gain, maintain, and direct attention-and thus data supply. "Surveillance is the business model of the Internet" (Schneier 2015). This surveillance and attention economy is sometimes called "surveillance capitalism" (Zuboff 2019). It has caused many attempts to escape from the grasp of these corporations, e.g., in exercises of "minimalism" (Newport 2019), sometimes through the open source movement, but it appears that present-day citizens have lost the degree of autonomy needed to escape while fully continuing with their life and work. We have lost ownership of our data, if "ownership" is the right relation here. Arguably, we have lost control of our data.

These systems will often reveal facts about us that we ourselves wish to suppress or are not aware of: they know more about us than we know ourselves. Even just observing online behaviour allows insights into our mental states (Burr and Christianini 2019) and manipulation (see below section 2.2). This has led to calls for the protection of "derived data" (Wachter and Mittelstadt 2019). With the last sentence of his bestselling book, Homo Deus, Harari asks about the long-term consequences of AI:

What will happen to society, politics and daily life when non-conscious but highly intelligent algorithms know us better than we know ourselves? (2016: 462)

Robotic devices have not yet played a major role in this area, except for security patrolling, but this will change once they are more common outside of industry environments. Together with the "Internet of things", the so-called "smart" systems (phone, TV, oven, lamp, virtual assistant, home,...), "smart city" (Sennett 2018), and "smart governance", they are set to become part of the data-gathering machinery that offers more detailed data, of different types, in real time, with ever more information.

Privacy-preserving techniques that can largely conceal the identity of persons or groups are now a standard staple in data science; they include (relative) anonymisation , access control (plus encryption), and other models where computation is carried out with fully or partially encrypted input data (Stahl and Wright 2018); in the case of "differential privacy", this is done by adding calibrated noise to encrypt the output of queries (Dwork et al. 2006; Abowd 2017). While requiring more effort and cost, such techniques can avoid many of the privacy issues. Some companies have also seen better privacy as a competitive advantage that can be leveraged and sold at a price.

One of the major practical difficulties is to actually enforce regulation, both on the level of the state and on the level of the individual who has a claim. They must identify the responsible legal entity, prove the action, perhaps prove intent, find a court that declares itself competent ... and eventually get the court to actually enforce its decision. Well-established legal protection of rights such as consumer rights, product liability, and other civil liability or protection of intellectual property rights is often missing in digital products, or hard to enforce. This means that companies with a "digital" background are used to testing their products on the consumers without fear of liability while heavily defending their intellectual property rights. This "Internet Libertarianism" is sometimes taken to assume that technical solutions will take care of societal problems by themselves (Mozorov 2013).

2.2 Manipulation of Behaviour

The ethical issues of AI in surveillance go beyond the mere accumulation of data and direction of attention: They include the use of information to manipulate behaviour, online and offline, in a way that undermines autonomous rational choice. Of course, efforts to manipulate behaviour are ancient, but they may gain a new quality when they use AI systems. Given users' intense interaction with data systems and the deep knowledge about individuals this provides, they are vulnerable to "nudges", manipulation, and deception. With sufficient prior data, algorithms can be used to target individuals or small groups with just the kind of input that is likely to influence these particular individuals. A 'nudge' changes the environment such that it influences behaviour in a predictable way that is positive for the individual, but easy and cheap to avoid (Thaler & Sunstein 2008). There is a slippery slope from here to paternalism and manipulation.

Many advertisers, marketers, and online sellers will use any legal means at their disposal to maximise profit, including exploitation of behavioural biases, deception, and addiction generation (Costa and Halpern 2019 [OIR]). Such manipulation is the business model in much of the gambling and gaming industries, but it is spreading, e.g., to low-cost airlines. In interface design on web pages or in games, this manipulation uses what is called "dark patterns" (Mathur et al. 2019). At this moment, gambling and the sale of addictive substances are highly regulated, but online manipulation and addiction are not-even though manipulation of online behaviour is becoming a core business model of the Internet.

Furthermore, social media is now the prime location for political propaganda. This influence can be used to steer voting behaviour, as in the Facebook-Cambridge Analytica "scandal" (Woolley and Howard 2017; Bradshaw, Neudert, and Howard 2019) and-if successful-it may harm the autonomy of individuals (Susser, Roessler, and Nissenbaum 2019).

Improved AI "faking" technologies make what once was reliable evidence into unreliable evidence-this has already happened to digital photos, sound recordings, and video. It will soon be quite easy to create (rather than alter) "deep fake" text, photos, and video material with any desired content. Soon, sophisticated real-time interaction with persons over text, phone, or video will be faked, too. So we cannot trust digital interactions while we are at the same time increasingly dependent on such interactions.

One more specific issue is that machine learning techniques in AI rely on training with vast amounts of data. This means there will often be a trade-off between privacy and rights to data vs. technical quality of the product. This influences the consequentialist evaluation of privacy-violating practices.

The policy in this field has its ups and downs: Civil liberties and the protection of individual rights are under intense pressure from businesses' lobbying, secret services, and other state agencies that depend on surveillance. Privacy protection has diminished massively compared to the pre-digital age when communication was based on letters, analogue telephone communications, and personal conversation and when surveillance operated under significant legal constraints.

While the EU General Data Protection Regulation (Regulation (EU) 2016/679) has strengthened privacy protection, the US and China prefer growth with less regulation (Thompson and Bremmer 2018), likely in the hope that this provides a competitive advantage. It is clear that state and business actors have increased their ability to invade privacy and manipulate people with the help of AI technology and will continue to do so to further their particular interests-unless reined in by policy in the interest of general society.

2.3 Opacity of AI Systems

Opacity and bias are central issues in what is now sometimes called "data ethics" or "big data ethics" (Floridi and Taddeo 2016; Mittelstadt and Floridi 2016). AI systems for automated decision support and "predictive analytics" raise "significant concerns about lack of due process, accountability, community engagement, and auditing" (Whittaker et al. 2018: 18ff). They are part of a power structure in which "we are creating decision-making processes that constrain and limit opportunities for human participation" (Danaher 2016b: 245). At the same time, it will often be impossible for the affected person to know how the system came to this output, i.e., the system is "opaque" to that person. If the system involves machine learning, it will typically be opaque even to the expert, who will not know how a particular pattern was identified, or even what the pattern is. Bias in decision systems and data sets is exacerbated by this opacity. So, at least in cases where there is a desire to remove bias, the analysis of opacity and bias go hand in hand, and political response has to tackle both issues together.

Many AI systems rely on machine learning techniques in (simulated) neural networks that will extract patterns from a given dataset, with or without "correct" solutions provided; i.e., supervised, semi-supervised or unsupervised. With these techniques, the "learning" captures patterns in the data and these are labelled in a way that appears useful to the decision the system makes, while the programmer does not really know which patterns in the data the system has used. In fact, the programs are evolving, so when new data comes in, or new feedback is given ("this was correct", "this was incorrect"), the patterns used by the learning system change. What this means is that the outcome is not transparent to the user or programmers: it is opaque. Furthermore, the quality of the program depends heavily on the quality of the data provided, following the old slogan "garbage in, garbage out". So, if the data already involved a bias (e.g., police data about the skin colour of suspects), then the program will reproduce that bias. There are proposals for a standard description of datasets in a "datasheet" that would make the identification of such bias more feasible (Gebru et al. 2018 [OIR]). There is also significant recent literature about the limitations of machine learning systems that are essentially sophisticated data filters (Marcus 2018 [OIR]). Some have argued that the ethical problems of today are the result of technical "shortcuts" AI has taken (Cristianini forthcoming).

There are several technical activities that aim at "explainable AI", starting with (Van Lent, Fisher, and Mancuso 1999; Lomas et al. 2012) and, more recently, a DARPA programme (Gunning 2017 [OIR]). More broadly, the demand for

a mechanism for elucidating and articulating the power structures, biases, and influences that computational artefacts exercise in society (Diakopoulos 2015: 398)

is sometimes called "algorithmic accountability reporting". This does not mean that we expect an AI to "explain its reasoning"-doing so would require far more serious moral autonomy than we currently attribute to AI systems (see below §2.10).

The politician Henry Kissinger pointed out that there is a fundamental problem for democratic decision-making if we rely on a system that is supposedly superior to humans, but cannot explain its decisions. He says we may have "generated a potentially dominating technology in search of a guiding philosophy" (Kissinger 2018). Danaher (2016b) calls this problem "the threat of algocracy" (adopting the previous use of 'algocracy' from Aneesh 2002 [OIR], 2006). In a similar vein, Cave (2019) stresses that we need a broader societal move towards more "democratic" decision-making to avoid AI being a force that leads to a Kafka-style impenetrable suppression system in public administration and elsewhere. The political angle of this discussion has been stressed by O'Neil in her influential book Weapons of Math Destruction (2016), and by Yeung and Lodge (2019).

In the EU, some of these issues have been taken into account with the (Regulation (EU) 2016/679), which foresees that consumers, when faced with a decision based on data processing, will have a legal "right to explanation"-how far this goes and to what extent it can be enforced is disputed (Goodman and Flaxman 2017; Wachter, Mittelstadt, and Floridi 2016; Wachter, Mittelstadt, and Russell 2017). Zerilli et al. (2019) argue that there may be a double standard here, where we demand a high level of explanation for machine-based decisions despite humans sometimes not reaching that standard themselves.

2.4 Bias in Decision Systems

Automated AI decision support systems and "predictive analytics" operate on data and produce a decision as "output". This output may range from the relatively trivial to the highly significant: "this restaurant matches your preferences", "the patient in this X-ray has completed bone growth", "application to credit card declined", "donor organ will be given to another patient", "bail is denied", or "target identified and engaged". Data analysis is often used in "predictive analytics" in business, healthcare, and other fields, to foresee future developments-since prediction is easier, it will also become a cheaper commodity. One use of prediction is in "predictive policing" (NIJ 2014 [OIR]), which many fear might lead to an erosion of public liberties (Ferguson 2017) because it can take away power from the people whose behaviour is predicted. It appears, however, that many of the worries about policing depend on futuristic scenarios where law enforcement foresees and punishes planned actions, rather than waiting until a crime has been committed (like in the 2002 film "Minority Report"). One concern is that these systems might perpetuate bias that was already in the data used to set up the system, e.g., by increasing police patrols in an area and discovering more crime in that area. Actual "predictive policing" or "intelligence led policing" techniques mainly concern the question of where and when police forces will be needed most. Also, police officers can be provided with more data, offering them more control and facilitating better decisions, in workflow support software (e.g., "ArcGIS"). Whether this is problematic depends on the appropriate level of trust in the technical quality of these systems, and on the evaluation of aims of the police work itself. Perhaps a recent paper title points in the right direction here: "AI ethics in predictive policing: From models of threat to an ethics of care" (Asaro 2019).

Bias typically surfaces when unfair judgments are made because the individual making the judgment is influenced by a characteristic that is actually irrelevant to the matter at hand, typically a discriminatory preconception about members of a group. So, one form of bias is a learned cognitive feature of a person, often not made explicit. The person concerned may not be aware of having that bias-they may even be honestly and explicitly opposed to a bias they are found to have (e.g., through priming, cf. Graham and Lowery 2004). On fairness vs. bias in machine learning, see Binns (2018).

Apart from the social phenomenon of learned bias, the human cognitive system is generally prone to have various kinds of "cognitive biases", e.g., the "confirmation bias": humans tend to interpret information as confirming what they already believe. This second form of bias is often said to impede performance in rational judgment (Kahnemann 2011)-though at least some cognitive biases generate an evolutionary advantage, e.g., economical use of resources for intuitive judgment. There is a question whether AI systems could or should have such cognitive bias.

A third form of bias is present in data when it exhibits systematic error, e.g., "statistical bias". Strictly, any given dataset will only be unbiased for a single kind of issue, so the mere creation of a dataset involves the danger that it may be used for a different kind of issue, and then turn out to be biased for that kind. Machine learning on the basis of such data would then not only fail to recognise the bias, but codify and automate the "historical bias". Such historical bias was discovered in an automated recruitment screening system at Amazon (discontinued early 2017) that discriminated against women-presumably because the company had a history of discriminating against women in the hiring process. The "Correctional Offender Management Profiling for Alternative Sanctions" (COMPAS), a system to predict whether a defendant would re-offend, was found to be as successful (65.2% accuracy) as a group of random humans (Dressel and Farid 2018) and to produce more false positives and less false negatives for black defendants. The problem with such systems is thus bias plus humans placing excessive trust in the systems. The political dimensions of such automated systems in the USA are investigated in Eubanks (2018).

There are significant technical efforts to detect and remove bias from AI systems, but it is fair to say that these are in early stages: see UK Institute for Ethical AI & Machine Learning (Brownsword, Scotford, and Yeung 2017; Yeung and Lodge 2019). It appears that technological fixes have their limits in that they need a mathematical notion of fairness, which is hard to come by (Whittaker et al. 2018: 24ff; Selbst et al. 2019), as is a formal notion of "race" (see Benthall and Haynes 2019). An institutional proposal is in (Veale and Binns 2017).

2.5 Human-Robot Interaction

Human-robot interaction (HRI) is an academic fields in its own right, which now pays significant attention to ethical matters, the dynamics of perception from both sides, and both the different interests present in and the intricacy of the social context, including co-working (e.g., Arnold and Scheutz 2017). Useful surveys for the ethics of robotics include Calo, Froomkin, and Kerr (2016); Royakkers and van Est (2016); Tzafestas (2016); a standard collection of papers is Lin, Abney, and Jenkins (2017).

While AI can be used to manipulate humans into believing and doing things (see section 2.2), it can also be used to drive robots that are problematic if their processes or appearance involve deception, threaten human dignity, or violate the Kantian requirement of "respect for humanity". Humans very easily attribute mental properties to objects, and empathise with them, especially when the outer appearance of these objects is similar to that of living beings. This can be used to deceive humans (or animals) into attributing more intellectual or even emotional significance to robots or AI systems than they deserve. Some parts of humanoid robotics are problematic in this regard (e.g., Hiroshi Ishiguro's remote-controlled Geminoids), and there are cases that have been clearly deceptive for public-relations purposes (e.g. on the abilities of Hanson Robotics' "Sophia"). Of course, some fairly basic constraints of business ethics and law apply to robots, too: product safety and liability, or non-deception in advertisement. It appears that these existing constraints take care of many concerns that are raised. There are cases, however, where human-human interaction has aspects that appear specifically human in ways that can perhaps not be replaced by robots: care, love, and sex.

2.5.1 Example (a) Care Robots

The use of robots in health care for humans is currently at the level of concept studies in real environments, but it may become a usable technology in a few years, and has raised a number of concerns for a dystopian future of de-humanised care (A. Sharkey and N. Sharkey 2011; Robert Sparrow 2016). Current systems include robots that support human carers/caregivers (e.g., in lifting patients, or transporting material), robots that enable patients to do certain things by themselves (e.g., eat with a robotic arm), but also robots that are given to patients as company and comfort (e.g., the "Paro" robot seal). For an overview, see van Wynsberghe (2016); Nørskov (2017); Fosch-Villaronga and Albo-Canals (2019), for a survey of users Draper et al. (2014).

One reason why the issue of care has come to the fore is that people have argued that we will need robots in ageing societies. This argument makes problematic assumptions, namely that with longer lifespan people will need more care, and that it will not be possible to attract more humans to caring professions. It may also show a bias about age (Jecker forthcoming). Most importantly, it ignores the nature of automation, which is not simply about replacing humans, but about allowing humans to work more efficiently. It is not very clear that there really is an issue here since the discussion mostly focuses on the fear of robots de-humanising care, but the actual and foreseeable robots in care are assistive robots for classic automation of technical tasks. They are thus "care robots" only in a behavioural sense of performing tasks in care environments, not in the sense that a human "cares" for the patients. It appears that the success of "being cared for" relies on this intentional sense of "care", which foreseeable robots cannot provide. If anything, the risk of robots in care is the absence of such intentional care-because less human carers may be needed. Interestingly, caring for something, even a virtual agent, can be good for the carer themselves (Lee et al. 2019). A system that pretends to care would be deceptive and thus problematic-unless the deception is countered by sufficiently large utility gain (Coeckelbergh 2016). Some robots that pretend to "care" on a basic level are available (Paro seal) and others are in the making. Perhaps feeling cared for by a machine, to some extent, is progress for come patients.

2.5.2 Example (b) Sex Robots

It has been argued by several tech optimists that humans will likely be interested in sex and companionship with robots and be comfortable with the idea (Levy 2007). Given the variation of human sexual preferences, including sex toys and sex dolls, this seems very likely: The question is whether such devices should be manufactured and promoted, and whether there should be limits in this touchy area. It seems to have moved into the mainstream of "robot philosophy" in recent times (Sullins 2012; Danaher and McArthur 2017; N. Sharkey et al. 2017 [OIR]; Bendel 2018; Devlin 2018).

Humans have long had deep emotional attachments to objects, so perhaps companionship or even love with a predictable android is attractive, especially to people who struggle with actual humans, and already prefer dogs, cats, birds, a computer or a tamagotchi. Danaher (2019b) argues against (Nyholm and Frank 2017) that these can be true friendships, and is thus a valuable goal. It certainly looks like such friendship might increase overall utility, even if lacking in depth. In these discussions there is an issue of deception, since a robot cannot (at present) mean what it says, or have feelings for a human. It is well known that humans are prone to attribute feelings and thoughts to entities that behave as if they had sentience,even to clearly inanimate objects that show no behaviour at all. Also, paying for deception seems to be an elementary part of the traditional sex industry.

Finally, there are concerns that have often accompanied matters of sex, namely consent (Frank and Nyholm 2017), aesthetic concerns, and the worry that humans may be "corrupted" by certain experiences. Old fashioned though this may seem, human behaviour is influenced by experience, and it is likely that pornography or sex robots support the perception of other humans as mere objects of desire, or even recipients of abuse, and thus ruin a deeper sexual and erotic experience. In this vein, the "Campaign Against Sex Robots" argues that these devices are a continuation of slavery and prostitution (Richardson 2016).

2.6 Automation and Employment

It seems clear that AI and robotics will lead to significant gains in productivity and thus overall wealth. The attempt to increase productivity has often been a feature of the economy, though the emphasis on "growth" is a modern phenomenon (Harari 2016: 240). However, productivity gains through automation typically mean that fewer humans are required for the same output. This does not necessarily imply a loss of overall employment, however, because available wealth increases and that can increase demand sufficiently to counteract the productivity gain. In the long run, higher productivity in industrial societies has led to more wealth overall. Major labour market disruptions have occurred in the past, e.g., farming employed over 60% of the workforce in Europe and North-America in 1800, while by 2010 it employed ca. 5% in the EU, and even less in the wealthiest countries (European Commission 2013). In the 20 years between 1950 and 1970 the number of hired agricultural workers in the UK was reduced by 50% (Zayed and Loft 2019). Some of these disruptions lead to more labour-intensive industries moving to places with lower labour cost. This is an ongoing process.

Classic automation replaced human muscle, whereas digital automation replaces human thought or information-processing-and unlike physical machines, digital automation is very cheap to duplicate (Bostrom and Yudkowsky 2014). It may thus mean a more radical change on the labour market. So, the main question is: will the effects be different this time? Will the creation of new jobs and wealth keep up with the destruction of jobs? And even if it is not different, what are the transition costs, and who bears them? Do we need to make societal adjustments for a fair distribution of costs and benefits of digital automation?

Responses to the issue of unemployment from AI have ranged from the alarmed (Frey and Osborne 2013; Westlake 2014) to the neutral (Metcalf, Keller, and Boyd 2016 [OIR]; Calo 2018; Frey 2019) to the optimistic (Brynjolfsson and McAfee 2016; Harari 2016; Danaher 2019a). In principle, the labour market effect of automation seems to be fairly well understood as involving two channels:

(i) the nature of interactions between differently skilled workers and new technologies affecting labour demand and (ii) the equilibrium effects of technological progress through consequent changes in labour supply and product markets. (Goos 2018: 362)

What currently seems to happen in the labour market as a result of AI and robotics automation is "job polarisation" or the "dumbbell" shape (Goos, Manning, and Salomons 2009): The highly skilled technical jobs are in demand and highly paid, the low skilled service jobs are in demand and badly paid, but the mid-qualification jobs in factories and offices, i.e., the majority of jobs, are under pressure and reduced because they are relatively predictable, and most likely to be automated (Baldwin 2019).

Perhaps enormous productivity gains will allow the "age of leisure" to be realised, something (Keynes 1930) had predicted to occur around 2030, assuming a growth rate of 1% per annum. Actually, we have already reached the level he anticipated for 2030, but we are still working-consuming more and inventing ever more levels of organisation. Harari explains how this economic development allowed humanity to overcome hunger, disease, and war-and now we aim for immortality and eternal bliss through AI, thus his title Homo Deus (Harari 2016: 75).

In general terms, the issue of unemployment is an issue of how goods in a society should be justly distributed. A standard view is that distributive justice should be rationally decided from behind a "veil of ignorance" (Rawls 1971), i.e., as if one does not know what position in a society one would actually be taking (labourer or industrialist, etc.). Rawls thought the chosen principles would then support basic liberties and a distribution that is of greatest benefit to the least-advantaged members of society. It would appear that the AI economy has three features that make such justice unlikely: First, it operates in a largely unregulated environment where responsibility is often hard to allocate. Second, it operates in markets that have a "winner takes all" feature where monopolies develop quickly. Third, the "new economy" of the digital service industries is based on intangible assets, also called "capitalism without capital" (Haskel and Westlake 2017). This means that it is difficult to control multinational digital corporations that do not rely on a physical plant in a particular location. These three features seem to suggest that if we leave the distribution of wealth to free market forces, the result would be a heavily unjust distribution: And this is indeed a development that we can already see.

One interesting question that has not received too much attention is whether the development of AI is environmentally sustainable: Like all computing systems, AI systems produce waste that is very hard to recycle and they consume vast amounts of energy, especially for the training of machine learning systems (and even for the "mining" of cryptocurrency). Again, it appears that some actors in this space offload such costs to the general society.

2.7 Autonomous Systems

There are several notions of autonomy in the discussion of autonomous systems. A stronger notion is involved in philosophical debates where autonomy is the basis for responsibility and personhood (Christman 2003 [2018]). In this context, responsibility implies autonomy, but not inversely, so there can be systems that have degrees of technical autonomy without raising issues of responsibility. The weaker, more technical, notion of autonomy in robotics is relative and gradual: A system is said to be autonomous with respect to human control to a certain degree (Müller 2012). There is a parallel here to the issues of bias and opacity in AI since autonomy also concerns a power-relation: who is in control, and who is responsible?

Generally speaking, one question is the degree to which autonomous robots raise issues our present conceptual schemes must adapt to, or whether they just require technical adjustments. In most jurisdictions, there is a sophisticated system of civil and criminal liability to resolve such issues. Technical standards, e.g., for the safe use of machinery in medical environments, will likely need to be adjusted. There is already a field of "verifiable AI" for such safety-critical systems and for "security applications". Bodies like the IEEE (The Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers) and the BSI (British Standards Institution) have produced "standards", particularly on more technical sub-problems, such as data security and transparency. Among the many autonomous systems on land, on water, under water, in air or space, we discuss two samples: autonomous vehicles and autonomous weapons.

2.7.1 Example (a) Autonomous Vehicles

Autonomous vehicles hold the promise to reduce the very significant damage that human driving currently causes-approximately 1 million humans being killed per year, many more injured, the environment polluted, earth sealed with concrete and tarmac, cities full of parked cars, etc. However, there seem to be questions on how autonomous vehicles should behave, and how responsibility and risk should be distributed in the complicated system the vehicles operates in. (There is also significant disagreement over how long the development of fully autonomous, or "level 5" cars (SAE International 2018) will actually take.)

There is some discussion of "trolley problems" in this context. In the classic "trolley problems" (Thomson 1976; Woollard and Howard-Snyder 2016: section 2) various dilemmas are presented. The simplest version is that of a trolley train on a track that is heading towards five people and will kill them, unless the train is diverted onto a side track, but on that track there is one person, who will be killed if the train takes that side track. The example goes back to a remark in (Foot 1967: 6), who discusses a number of dilemma cases where tolerated and intended consequences of an action differ. "Trolley problems" are not supposed to describe actual ethical problems or to be solved with a "right" choice. Rather, they are thought-experiments where choice is artificially constrained to a small finite number of distinct one-off options and where the agent has perfect knowledge. These problems are used as a theoretical tool to investigate ethical intuitions and theories-especially the difference between actively doing vs. allowing something to happen, intended vs. tolerated consequences, and consequentialist vs. other normative approaches (Kamm 2016). This type of problem has reminded many of the problems encountered in actual driving and in autonomous driving (Lin 2016). It is doubtful, however, that an actual driver or autonomous car will ever have to solve trolley problems (but see Keeling 2020). While autonomous car trolley problems have received a lot of media attention (Awad et al. 2018), they do not seem to offer anything new to either ethical theory or to the programming of autonomous vehicles.

The more common ethical problems in driving, such as speeding, risky overtaking, not keeping a safe distance, etc. are classic problems of pursuing personal interest vs. the common good. The vast majority of these are covered by legal regulations on driving. Programming the car to drive "by the rules" rather than "by the interest of the passengers" or "to achieve maximum utility" is thus deflated to a standard problem of programming ethical machines (see section 2.9). There are probably additional discretionary rules of politeness and interesting questions on when to break the rules (Lin 2016), but again this seems to be more a case of applying standard considerations (rules vs. utility) to the case of autonomous vehicles.

Notable policy efforts in this field include the report (German Federal Ministry of Transport and Digital Infrastructure 2017), which stresses that safety is the primary objective. Rule 10 states

In the case of automated and connected driving systems, the accountability that was previously the sole preserve of the individual shifts from the motorist to the manufacturers and operators of the technological systems and to the bodies responsible for taking infrastructure, policy and legal decisions.

(See section 2.10.1 below). The resulting German and EU laws on licensing automated driving are much more restrictive than their US counterparts where "testing on consumers" is a strategy used by some companies-without informed consent of the consumers or their possible victims.

2.7.2 Example (b) Autonomous Weapons

The notion of automated weapons is fairly old:

For example, instead of fielding simple guided missiles or remotely piloted vehicles, we might launch completely autonomous land, sea, and air vehicles capable of complex, far-ranging reconnaissance and attack missions. (DARPA 1983: 1)

This proposal was ridiculed as "fantasy" at the time (Dreyfus, Dreyfus, and Athanasiou 1986: ix), but it is now a reality, at least for more easily identifiable targets (missiles, planes, ships, tanks, etc.), but not for human combatants. The main arguments against (lethal) autonomous weapon systems (AWS or LAWS), are that they support extrajudicial killings, take responsibility away from humans, and make wars or killings more likely-for a detailed list of issues see Lin, Bekey, and Abney (2008: 73-86).

It appears that lowering the hurdle to use such systems (autonomous vehicles, "fire-and-forget" missiles, or drones loaded with explosives) and reducing the probability of being held accountable would increase the probability of their use. The crucial asymmetry where one side can kill with impunity, and thus has few reasons not to do so, already exists in conventional drone wars with remote controlled weapons (e.g., US in Pakistan). It is easy to imagine a small drone that searches, identifies, and kills an individual human-or perhaps a type of human. These are the kinds of cases brought forward by the Campaign to Stop Killer Robots and other activist groups. Some seem to be equivalent to saying that autonomous weapons are indeed weapons ..., and weapons kill, but we still make them in gigantic numbers. On the matter of accountability, autonomous weapons might make identification and prosecution of the responsible agents more difficult-but this is not clear, given the digital records that one can keep, at least in a conventional war. The difficulty of allocating punishment is sometimes called the "retribution gap" (Danaher 2016a).

Another question is whether using autonomous weapons in war would make wars worse, or make wars less bad. If robots reduce war crimes and crimes in war, the answer may well be positive and has been used as an argument in favour of these weapons (Arkin 2009; Müller 2016a) but also as an argument against them (Amoroso and Tamburrini 2018). Arguably the main threat is not the use of such weapons in conventional warfare, but in asymmetric conflicts or by non-state agents, including criminals.

It has also been said that autonomous weapons cannot conform to International Humanitarian Law, which requires observance of the principles of distinction (between combatants and civilians), proportionality (of force), and military necessity (of force) in military conflict (A. Sharkey 2019). It is true that the distinction between combatants and non-combatants is hard, but the distinction between civilian and military ships is easy-so all this says is that we should not construct and use such weapons if they do violate Humanitarian Law. Additional concerns have been raised that being killed by an autonomous weapon threatens human dignity, but even the defenders of a ban on these weapons seem to say that these are not good arguments:

There are other weapons, and other technologies, that also compromise human dignity. Given this, and the ambiguities inherent in the concept, it is wiser to draw on several types of objections in arguments against AWS, and not to rely exclusively on human dignity. (A. Sharkey 2019)

A lot has been made of keeping humans "in the loop" or "on the loop" in the military guidance on weapons-these ways of spelling out "meaningful control" are discussed in (Santoni de Sio and van den Hoven 2018). There have been discussions about the difficulties of allocating responsibility for the killings of an autonomous weapon, and a "responsibility gap" has been suggested (esp. Rob Sparrow 2007), meaning that neither the human nor the machine may be responsible. On the other hand, we do not assume that for every event there is someone responsible for that event, and the real issue may well be the distribution of risk (Simpson and Müller 2016). Risk analysis (Hansson 2013) indicates it is crucial to identify who is exposed to risk, who is a potential beneficiary, and who makes the decisions (Hansson 2018: 1822-1824).

2.8 Machine Ethics

Machine ethics is ethics for machines, for "ethical machines", for machines as subjects, rather than for the human use of machines as objects. It is often not very clear whether this is supposed to cover all of AI ethics or to be a part of it (Floridi and Saunders 2004; Moor 2006; Anderson and Anderson 2011; Wallach and Asaro 2017). Sometimes it looks as though there is the (dubious) inference at play here that if machines act in ethically relevant ways, then we need a machine ethics. Accordingly, some use a broader notion:

machine ethics is concerned with ensuring that the behavior of machines toward human users, and perhaps other machines as well, is ethically acceptable. (Anderson and Anderson 2007: 15)

This might include mere matters of product safety, for example. Other authors sound rather ambitious but use a narrower notion:

AI reasoning should be able to take into account societal values, moral and ethical considerations; weigh the respective priorities of values held by different stakeholders in various multicultural contexts; explain its reasoning; and guarantee transparency. (Dignum 2018: 1, 2)

Some of the discussion in machine ethics makes the very substantial assumption that machines can, in some sense, be ethical agents responsible for their actions, or "autonomous moral agents" (see van Wynsberghe and Robbins 2019). The basic idea of machine ethics is now finding its way into actual robotics where the assumption that these machines are artificial moral agents in any substantial sense is usually not made (Winfield et al. 2019). It is sometimes observed that a robot that is programmed to follow ethical rules can very easily be modified to follow unethical rules (Vanderelst and Winfield 2018).

The idea that machine ethics might take the form of "laws" has famously been investigated by Isaac Asimov, who proposed "three laws of robotics" (Asimov 1942):

First Law-A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second Law-A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law. Third Law-A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.

Asimov then showed in a number of stories how conflicts between these three laws will make it problematic to use them despite their hierarchical organisation.

It is not clear that there is a consistent notion of "machine ethics" since weaker versions are in danger of reducing "having an ethics" to notions that would not normally be considered sufficient (e.g., without "reflection" or even without "action"); stronger notions that move towards artificial moral agents may describe a-currently-empty set.

2.9 Artificial Moral Agents

If one takes machine ethics to concern moral agents, in some substantial sense, then these agents can be called "artificial moral agents", having rights and responsibilities. However, the discussion about artificial entities challenges a number of common notions in ethics and it can be very useful to understand these in abstraction from the human case (cf. Misselhorn 2020; Powers and Ganascia forthcoming).

Several authors use "artificial moral agent" in a less demanding sense, borrowing from the use of "agent" in software engineering in which case matters of responsibility and rights will not arise (Allen, Varner, and Zinser 2000). James Moor (2006) distinguishes four types of machine agents: ethical impact agents (e.g., robot jockeys), implicit ethical agents (e.g., safe autopilot), explicit ethical agents (e.g., using formal methods to estimate utility), and full ethical agents (who "can make explicit ethical judgments and generally is competent to reasonably justify them. An average adult human is a full ethical agent".) Several ways to achieve "explicit" or "full" ethical agents have been proposed, via programming it in (operational morality), via "developing" the ethics itself (functional morality), and finally full-blown morality with full intelligence and sentience (Allen, Smit, and Wallach 2005; Moor 2006). Programmed agents are sometimes not considered "full" agents because they are "competent without comprehension", just like the neurons in a brain (Dennett 2017; Hakli and Mäkelä 2019).

In some discussions, the notion of "moral patient" plays a role: Ethical agents have responsibilities while ethical patients have rights because harm to them matters. It seems clear that some entities are patients without being agents, e.g., simple animals that can feel pain but cannot make justified choices. On the other hand, it is normally understood that all agents will also be patients (e.g., in a Kantian framework). Usually, being a person is supposed to be what makes an entity a responsible agent, someone who can have duties and be the object of ethical concerns. Such personhood is typically a deep notion associated with phenomenal consciousness, intention and free will (Frankfurt 1971; Strawson 1998). Torrance (2011) suggests "artificial (or machine) ethics could be defined as designing machines that do things that, when done by humans, are indicative of the possession of 'ethical status' in those humans" (2011: 116)-which he takes to be "ethical productivity and ethical receptivity " (2011: 117)-his expressions for moral agents and patients.

2.9.1 Responsibility for Robots

There is broad consensus that accountability, liability, and the rule of law are basic requirements that must be upheld in the face of new technologies (European Group on Ethics in Science and New Technologies 2018, 18), but the issue in the case of robots is how this can be done and how responsibility can be allocated. If the robots act, will they themselves be responsible, liable, or accountable for their actions? Or should the distribution of risk perhaps take precedence over discussions of responsibility?

Traditional distribution of responsibility already occurs: A car maker is responsible for the technical safety of the car, a driver is responsible for driving, a mechanic is responsible for proper maintenance, the public authorities are responsible for the technical conditions of the roads, etc. In general

The effects of decisions or actions based on AI are often the result of countless interactions among many actors, including designers, developers, users, software, and hardware.... With distributed agency comes distributed responsibility. (Taddeo and Floridi 2018: 751).

How this distribution might occur is not a problem that is specific to AI, but it gains particular urgency in this context (Nyholm 2018a, 2018b). In classical control engineering, distributed control is often achieved through a control hierarchy plus control loops across these hierarchies.

2.9.2 Rights for Robots

Some authors have indicated that it should be seriously considered whether current robots must be allocated rights (Gunkel 2018a, 2018b; Danaher forthcoming; Turner 2019). This position seems to rely largely on criticism of the opponents and on the empirical observation that robots and other non-persons are sometimes treated as having rights. In this vein, a "relational turn" has been proposed: If we relate to robots as though they had rights, then we might be well-advised not to search whether they "really" do have such rights (Coeckelbergh 2010, 2012, 2018). This raises the question how far such anti-realism or quasi-realism can go, and what it means then to say that "robots have rights" in a human-centred approach (Gerdes 2016). On the other side of the debate, Bryson has insisted that robots should not enjoy rights (Bryson 2010), though she considers it a possibility (Gunkel and Bryson 2014).

There is a wholly separate issue whether robots (or other AI systems) should be given the status of "legal entities" or "legal persons" in a sense natural persons, but also states, businesses, or organisations are "entities", namely they can have legal rights and duties. The European Parliament has considered allocating such status to robots in order to deal with civil liability (EU Parliament 2016; Bertolini and Aiello 2018), but not criminal liability-which is reserved for natural persons. It would also be possible to assign only a certain subset of rights and duties to robots. It has been said that "such legislative action would be morally unnecessary and legally troublesome" because it would not serve the interest of humans (Bryson, Diamantis, and Grant 2017: 273). In environmental ethics there is a long-standing discussion about the legal rights for natural objects like trees (C. D. Stone 1972).

It has also been said that the reasons for developing robots with rights, or artificial moral patients, in the future are ethically doubtful (van Wynsberghe and Robbins 2019). In the community of "artificial consciousness" researchers there is a significant concern whether it would be ethical to create such consciousness since creating it would presumably imply ethical obligations to a sentient being, e.g., not to harm it and not to end its existence by switching it off-some authors have called for a "moratorium on synthetic phenomenology" (Bentley et al. 2018: 28f).

2.10 Singularity

2.10.1 Singularity and Superintelligence

In some quarters, the aim of current AI is thought to be an "artificial general intelligence" (AGI), contrasted to a technical or "narrow" AI. AGI is usually distinguished from traditional notions of AI as a general purpose system, and from Searle's notion of "strong AI":

computers given the right programs can be literally said to understand and have other cognitive states. (Searle 1980: 417)

The idea of singularity is that if the trajectory of artificial intelligence reaches up to systems that have a human level of intelligence, then these systems would themselves have the ability to develop AI systems that surpass the human level of intelligence, i.e., they are "superintelligent" (see below). Such superintelligent AI systems would quickly self-improve or develop even more intelligent systems. This sharp turn of events after reaching superintelligent AI is the "singularity" from which the development of AI is out of human control and hard to predict (Kurzweil 2005: 487).

The fear that "the robots we created will take over the world" had captured human imagination even before there were computers (e.g., Butler 1863) and is the central theme in Čapek's famous play that introduced the word "robot" (Čapek 1920). This fear was first formulated as a possible trajectory of existing AI into an "intelligence explosion" by Irvin Good:

Let an ultraintelligent machine be defined as a machine that can far surpass all the intellectual activities of any man however clever. Since the design of machines is one of these intellectual activities, an ultraintelligent machine could design even better machines; there would then unquestionably be an "intelligence explosion", and the intelligence of man would be left far behind. Thus the first ultraintelligent machine is the last invention that man need ever make, provided that the machine is docile enough to tell us how to keep it under control. (Good 1965: 33)

The optimistic argument from acceleration to singularity is spelled out by Kurzweil (1999, 2005, 2012) who essentially points out that computing power has been increasing exponentially, i.e., doubling ca. every 2 years since 1970 in accordance with "Moore's Law" on the number of transistors, and will continue to do so for some time in the future. He predicted in (Kurzweil 1999) that by 2010 supercomputers will reach human computation capacity, by 2030 "mind uploading" will be possible, and by 2045 the "singularity" will occur. Kurzweil talks about an increase in computing power that can be purchased at a given cost-but of course in recent years the funds available to AI companies have also increased enormously: Amodei and Hernandez (2018 [OIR]) thus estimate that in the years 2012-2018 the actual computing power available to train a particular AI system doubled every 3.4 months, resulting in an 300,000x increase-not the 7x increase that doubling every two years would have created.

A common version of this argument (Chalmers 2010) talks about an increase in "intelligence" of the AI system (rather than raw computing power), but the crucial point of "singularity" remains the one where further development of AI is taken over by AI systems and accelerates beyond human level. Bostrom (2014) explains in some detail what would happen at that point and what the risks for humanity are. The discussion is summarised in Eden et al. (2012); Armstrong (2014); Shanahan (2015). There are possible paths to superintelligence other than computing power increase, e.g., the complete emulation of the human brain on a computer (Kurzweil 2012; Sandberg 2013), biological paths, or networks and organisations (Bostrom 2014: 22-51).

Despite obvious weaknesses in the identification of "intelligence" with processing power, Kurzweil seems right that humans tend to underestimate the power of exponential growth. Mini-test: If you walked in steps in such a way that each step is double the previous, starting with a step of one metre, how far would you get with 30 steps? (answer: almost 3 times further than the Earth's only permanent natural satellite.) Indeed, most progress in AI is readily attributable to the availability of processors that are faster by degrees of magnitude, larger storage, and higher investment (Müller 2018). The actual acceleration and its speeds are discussed in (Müller and Bostrom 2016; Bostrom, Dafoe, and Flynn forthcoming); Sandberg (2019) argues that progress will continue for some time.

The participants in this debate are united by being technophiles in the sense that they expect technology to develop rapidly and bring broadly welcome changes-but beyond that, they divide into those who focus on benefits (e.g., Kurzweil) and those who focus on risks (e.g., Bostrom). Both camps sympathise with "transhuman" views of survival for humankind in a different physical form, e.g., uploaded on a computer (Moravec 1990, 1998; Bostrom 2003a, 2003c). They also consider the prospects of "human enhancement" in various respects, including intelligence-often called "IA" (intelligence augmentation). It may be that future AI will be used for human enhancement, or will contribute further to the dissolution of the neatly defined human single person. Robin Hanson provides detailed speculation about what will happen economically in case human "brain emulation" enables truly intelligent robots or "ems" (Hanson 2016).

The argument from superintelligence to risk requires the assumption that superintelligence does not imply benevolence-contrary to Kantian traditions in ethics that have argued higher levels of rationality or intelligence would go along with a better understanding of what is moral and better ability to act morally (Gewirth 1978; Chalmers 2010: 36f). Arguments for risk from superintelligence say that rationality and morality are entirely independent dimensions-this is sometimes explicitly argued for as an "orthogonality thesis" (Bostrom 2012; Armstrong 2013; Bostrom 2014: 105-109).

Criticism of the singularity narrative has been raised from various angles. Kurzweil and Bostrom seem to assume that intelligence is a one-dimensional property and that the set of intelligent agents is totally-ordered in the mathematical sense-but neither discusses intelligence at any length in their books. Generally, it is fair to say that despite some efforts, the assumptions made in the powerful narrative of superintelligence and singularity have not been investigated in detail. One question is whether such a singularity will ever occur-it may be conceptually impossible, practically impossible or may just not happen because of contingent events, including people actively preventing it. Philosophically, the interesting question is whether singularity is just a "myth" (Floridi 2016; Ganascia 2017), and not on the trajectory of actual AI research. This is something that practitioners often assume (e.g., Brooks 2017 [OIR]). They may do so because they fear the public relations backlash, because they overestimate the practical problems, or because they have good reasons to think that superintelligence is an unlikely outcome of current AI research (Müller forthcoming-a). This discussion raises the question whether the concern about "singularity" is just a narrative about fictional AI based on human fears. But even if one does find negative reasons compelling and the singularity not likely to occur, there is still a significant possibility that one may turn out to be wrong. Philosophy is not on the "secure path of a science" (Kant 1791: B15), and maybe AI and robotics aren't either (Müller 2020). So, it appears that discussing the very high-impact risk of singularity has justification even if one thinks the probability of such singularity ever occurring is very low.

2.10.2 Existential Risk from Superintelligence

Thinking about superintelligence in the long term raises the question whether superintelligence may lead to the extinction of the human species, which is called an "existential risk" (or XRisk): The superintelligent systems may well have preferences that conflict with the existence of humans on Earth, and may thus decide to end that existence-and given their superior intelligence, they will have the power to do so (or they may happen to end it because they do not really care).

Thinking in the long term is the crucial feature of this literature. Whether the singularity (or another catastrophic event) occurs in 30 or 300 or 3000 years does not really matter (Baum et al. 2019). Perhaps there is even an astronomical pattern such that an intelligent species is bound to discover AI at some point, and thus bring about its own demise. Such a "great filter" would contribute to the explanation of the "Fermi paradox" why there is no sign of life in the known universe despite the high probability of it emerging. It would be bad news if we found out that the "great filter" is ahead of us, rather than an obstacle that Earth has already passed. These issues are sometimes taken more narrowly to be about human extinction (Bostrom 2013), or more broadly as concerning any large risk for the species (Rees 2018)-of which AI is only one (Häggström 2016; Ord 2020). Bostrom also uses the category of "global catastrophic risk" for risks that are sufficiently high up the two dimensions of "scope" and "severity" (Bostrom and Ćirković 2011; Bostrom 2013).

These discussions of risk are usually not connected to the general problem of ethics under risk (e.g., Hansson 2013, 2018). The long-term view has its own methodological challenges but has produced a wide discussion: (Tegmark 2017) focuses on AI and human life "3.0" after singularity while Russell, Dewey, and Tegmark (2015) and Bostrom, Dafoe, and Flynn (forthcoming) survey longer-term policy issues in ethical AI. Several collections of papers have investigated the risks of artificial general intelligence (AGI) and the factors that might make this development more or less risk-laden (Müller 2016b; Callaghan et al. 2017; Yampolskiy 2018), including the development of non-agent AI (Drexler 2019).

2.10.3 Controlling Superintelligence?

In a narrow sense, the "control problem" is how we humans can remain in control of an AI system once it is superintelligent (Bostrom 2014: 127ff). In a wider sense, it is the problem of how we can make sure an AI system will turn out to be positive according to human perception (Russell 2019); this is sometimes called "value alignment". How easy or hard it is to control a superintelligence depends significantly on the speed of "take-off" to a superintelligent system. This has led to particular attention to systems with self-improvement, such as AlphaZero (Silver et al. 2018).

One aspect of this problem is that we might decide a certain feature is desirable, but then find out that it has unforeseen consequences that are so negative that we would not desire that feature after all. This is the ancient problem of King Midas who wished that all he touched would turn into gold. This problem has been discussed on the occasion of various examples, such as the "paperclip maximiser" (Bostrom 2003b), or the program to optimise chess performance (Omohundro 2014).

Discussions about superintelligence include speculation about omniscient beings, the radical changes on a "latter day", and the promise of immortality through transcendence of our current bodily form-so sometimes they have clear religious undertones (Capurro 1993; Geraci 2008, 2010; O'Connell 2017: 160ff). These issues also pose a well-known problem of epistemology: Can we know the ways of the omniscient (Danaher 2015)? The usual opponents have already shown up: A characteristic response of an atheist is

People worry that computers will get too smart and take over the world, but the real problem is that they're too stupid and they've already taken over the world (Domingos 2015)

The new nihilists explain that a "techno-hypnosis" through information technologies has now become our main method of distraction from the loss of meaning (Gertz 2018). Both opponents would thus say we need an ethics for the "small" problems that occur with actual AI and robotics ( sections 2.1 through 2.9 above), and that there is less need for the "big ethics" of existential risk from AI ( section 2.10).

3. Closing

The singularity thus raises the problem of the concept of AI again. It is remarkable how imagination or "vision" has played a central role since the very beginning of the discipline at the "Dartmouth Summer Research Project" (McCarthy et al. 1955 [OIR]; Simon and Newell 1958). And the evaluation of this vision is subject to dramatic change: In a few decades, we went from the slogans "AI is impossible" (Dreyfus 1972) and "AI is just automation" (Lighthill 1973) to "AI will solve all problems" (Kurzweil 1999) and "AI may kill us all" (Bostrom 2014). This created media attention and public relations efforts, but it also raises the problem of how much of this "philosophy and ethics of AI" is really about AI rather than about an imagined technology. As we said at the outset, AI and robotics have raised fundamental questions about what we should do with these systems, what the systems themselves should do, and what risks they have in the long term. They also challenge the human view of humanity as the intelligent and dominant species on Earth. We have seen issues that have been raised and will have to watch technological and social developments closely to catch the new issues early on, develop a philosophical analysis, and learn for traditional problems of philosophy.

Bibliography

NOTE: Citations in the main text annotated "[OIR]" may be found in the Other Internet Resources section below, not in the Bibliography.

Abowd, John M, 2017, "How Will Statistical Agencies Operate When All Data Are Private?", Journal of Privacy and Confidentiality, 7(3): 1-15. doi:10.29012/jpc.v7i3.404

Allen, Colin, Iva Smit, and Wendell Wallach, 2005, "Artificial Morality: Top-down, Bottom-up, and Hybrid Approaches", Ethics and Information Technology, 7(3): 149-155. doi:10.1007/s10676-006-0004-4

Allen, Colin, Gary Varner, and Jason Zinser, 2000, "Prolegomena to Any Future Artificial Moral Agent", Journal of Experimental & Theoretical Artificial Intelligence, 12(3): 251-261. doi:10.1080/09528130050111428

Amoroso, Daniele and Guglielmo Tamburrini, 2018, "The Ethical and Legal Case Against Autonomy in Weapons Systems", Global Jurist, 18(1): art. 20170012. doi:10.1515/gj-2017-0012

Anderson, Janna, Lee Rainie, and Alex Luchsinger, 2018, Artificial Intelligence and the Future of Humans, Washington, DC: Pew Research Center.

Anderson, Michael and Susan Leigh Anderson, 2007, "Machine Ethics: Creating an Ethical Intelligent Agent", AI Magazine, 28(4): 15-26.

--- (eds.), 2011, Machine Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511978036

Aneesh, A., 2006, Virtual Migration: The Programming of Globalization, Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press.

Arkin, Ronald C., 2009, Governing Lethal Behavior in Autonomous Robots, Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press.

Armstrong, Stuart, 2013, "General Purpose Intelligence: Arguing the Orthogonality Thesis", Analysis and Metaphysics, 12: 68-84.

---, 2014, Smarter Than Us, Berkeley, CA: MIRI.

Arnold, Thomas and Matthias Scheutz, 2017, "Beyond Moral Dilemmas: Exploring the Ethical Landscape in HRI", in Proceedings of the 2017 ACM/IEEE International Conference on Human-Robot Interaction-HRI '17, Vienna, Austria: ACM Press, 445-452. doi:10.1145/2909824.3020255

Asaro, Peter M., 2019, "AI Ethics in Predictive Policing: From Models of Threat to an Ethics of Care", IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, 38(2): 40-53. doi:10.1109/MTS.2019.2915154

Asimov, Isaac, 1942, "Runaround: A Short Story", Astounding Science Fiction, March 1942. Reprinted in "I, Robot", New York: Gnome Press 1950, 1940ff.

Awad, Edmond, Sohan Dsouza, Richard Kim, Jonathan Schulz, Joseph Henrich, Azim Shariff, Jean-François Bonnefon, and Iyad Rahwan, 2018, "The Moral Machine Experiment", Nature, 563(7729): 59-64. doi:10.1038/s41586-018-0637-6

Baldwin, Richard, 2019, The Globotics Upheaval: Globalisation, Robotics and the Future of Work, New York: Oxford University Press.

Baum, Seth D., Stuart Armstrong, Timoteus Ekenstedt, Olle Häggström, Robin Hanson, Karin Kuhlemann, Matthijs M. Maas, James D. Miller, Markus Salmela, Anders Sandberg, Kaj Sotala, Phil Torres, Alexey Turchin, and Roman V. Yampolskiy, 2019, "Long-Term Trajectories of Human Civilization", Foresight, 21(1): 53-83. doi:10.1108/FS-04-2018-0037

Bendel, Oliver, 2018, "Sexroboter aus Sicht der Maschinenethik", in Handbuch Filmtheorie, Bernhard Groß and Thomas Morsch (eds.), (Springer Reference Geisteswissenschaften), Wiesbaden: Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden, 1-19. doi:10.1007/978-3-658-17484-2_22-1

Bennett, Colin J. and Charles Raab, 2006, The Governance of Privacy: Policy Instruments in Global Perspective, second edition, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Benthall, Sebastian and Bruce D. Haynes, 2019, "Racial Categories in Machine Learning", in Proceedings of the Conference on Fairness, Accountability, and Transparency - FAT* '19, Atlanta, GA, USA: ACM Press, 289-298. doi:10.1145/3287560.3287575

Bentley, Peter J., Miles Brundage, Olle Häggström, and Thomas Metzinger, 2018, "Should We Fear Artificial Intelligence? In-Depth Analysis", European Parliamentary Research Service, Scientific Foresight Unit (STOA), March 2018, PE 614.547, 1-40. [Bentley et al. 2018 available online]

Bertolini, Andrea and Giuseppe Aiello, 2018, "Robot Companions: A Legal and Ethical Analysis", The Information Society, 34(3): 130-140. doi:10.1080/01972243.2018.1444249

Binns, Reuben, 2018, "Fairness in Machine Learning: Lessons from Political Philosophy", Proceedings of the 1st Conference on Fairness, Accountability and Transparency, inProceedings of Machine Learning Research, 81: 149-159.

Bostrom, Nick, 2003a, "Are We Living in a Computer Simulation?", The Philosophical Quarterly, 53(211): 243-255. doi:10.1111/1467-9213.00309

---, 2003b, "Ethical Issues in Advanced Artificial Intelligence", in Cognitive, Emotive and Ethical Aspects of Decision Making in Humans and in Artificial Intelligence, Volume 2, Iva Smit, Wendell Wallach, and G.E. Lasker (eds), (IIAS-147-2003), Tecumseh, ON: International Institute of Advanced Studies in Systems Research and Cybernetics, 12-17. [Botstrom 2003b revised available online]

---, 2003c, "Transhumanist Values", in Ethical Issues for the Twenty-First Century, Frederick Adams (ed.), Bowling Green, OH: Philosophical Documentation Center Press.

---, 2012, "The Superintelligent Will: Motivation and Instrumental Rationality in Advanced Artificial Agents", Minds and Machines, 22(2): 71-85. doi:10.1007/s11023-012-9281-3

---, 2013, "Existential Risk Prevention as Global Priority", Global Policy, 4(1): 15-31. doi:10.1111/1758-5899.12002

---, 2014, Superintelligence: Paths, Dangers, Strategies, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Bostrom, Nick and Milan M. Ćirković (eds.), 2011, Global Catastrophic Risks, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bostrom, Nick, Allan Dafoe, and Carrick Flynn, forthcoming, "Policy Desiderata for Superintelligent AI: A Vector Field Approach (V. 4.3)", in Ethics of Artificial Intelligence, S Matthew Liao (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press. [Bostrom, Dafoe, and Flynn forthcoming - preprint available online]

Bostrom, Nick and Eliezer Yudkowsky, 2014, "The Ethics of Artificial Intelligence", in The Cambridge Handbook of Artificial Intelligence, Keith Frankish and William M. Ramsey (eds.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 316-334. doi:10.1017/CBO9781139046855.020 [Bostrom and Yudkowsky 2014 available online]

Bradshaw, Samantha, Lisa-Maria Neudert, and Phil Howard, 2019, "Government Responses to Malicious Use of Social Media", Working Paper 2019.2, Oxford: Project on Computational Propaganda. [Bradshaw, Neudert, and Howard 2019 available online/]

Brownsword, Roger, Eloise Scotford, and Karen Yeung (eds.), 2017, The Oxford Handbook of Law, Regulation and Technology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199680832.001.0001

Brynjolfsson, Erik and Andrew McAfee, 2016, The Second Machine Age: Work, Progress, and Prosperity in a Time of Brilliant Technologies, New York: W. W. Norton.

Bryson, Joanna J., 2010, "Robots Should Be Slaves", in Close Engagements with Artificial Companions: Key Social, Psychological, Ethical and Design Issues, Yorick Wilks (ed.), (Natural Language Processing 8), Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 63-74. doi:10.1075/nlp.8.11bry

---, 2019, "The Past Decade and Future of Ai's Impact on Society", in Towards a New Enlightenment: A Transcendent Decade, Madrid: Turner - BVVA. [Bryson 2019 available online]

Bryson, Joanna J., Mihailis E. Diamantis, and Thomas D. Grant, 2017, "Of, for, and by the People: The Legal Lacuna of Synthetic Persons", Artificial Intelligence and Law, 25(3): 273-291. doi:10.1007/s10506-017-9214-9

Burr, Christopher and Nello Cristianini, 2019, "Can Machines Read Our Minds?", Minds and Machines, 29(3): 461-494. doi:10.1007/s11023-019-09497-4

Butler, Samuel, 1863, "Darwin among the Machines: Letter to the Editor", Letter in The Press (Christchurch), 13 June 1863. [Butler 1863 available online]

Callaghan, Victor, James Miller, Roman Yampolskiy, and Stuart Armstrong (eds.), 2017, The Technological Singularity: Managing the Journey, (The Frontiers Collection), Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Berlin Heidelberg. doi:10.1007/978-3-662-54033-6

Calo, Ryan, 2018, "Artificial Intelligence Policy: A Primer and Roadmap", University of Bologna Law Review, 3(2): 180-218. doi:10.6092/ISSN.2531-6133/8670

Calo, Ryan, A. Michael Froomkin, and Ian Kerr (eds.), 2016, Robot Law, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar.

Čapek, Karel, 1920, R.U.R., Prague: Aventium. Translated by Peter Majer and Cathy Porter, London: Methuen, 1999.

Capurro, Raphael, 1993, "Ein Grinsen Ohne Katze: Von der Vergleichbarkeit Zwischen 'Künstlicher Intelligenz' und 'Getrennten Intelligenzen'", Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung, 47: 93-102.

Cave, Stephen, 2019, "To Save Us from a Kafkaesque Future, We Must Democratise AI", The Guardian , 04 January 2019. [Cave 2019 available online]

Chalmers, David J., 2010, "The Singularity: A Philosophical Analysis", Journal of Consciousness Studies, 17(9-10): 7-65. [Chalmers 2010 available online]

Christman, John, 2003 [2018], "Autonomy in Moral and Political Philosophy", (Spring 2018) Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (EDITION NEEDED), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2018/entries/autonomy-moral/>

Coeckelbergh, Mark, 2010, "Robot Rights? Towards a Social-Relational Justification of Moral Consideration", Ethics and Information Technology, 12(3): 209-221. doi:10.1007/s10676-010-9235-5

---, 2012, Growing Moral Relations: Critique of Moral Status Ascription, London: Palgrave. doi:10.1057/9781137025968

---, 2016, "Care Robots and the Future of ICT-Mediated Elderly Care: A Response to Doom Scenarios", AI & Society, 31(4): 455-462. doi:10.1007/s00146-015-0626-3

---, 2018, "What Do We Mean by a Relational Ethics? Growing a Relational Approach to the Moral Standing of Plants, Robots and Other Non-Humans", in Plant Ethics: Concepts and Applications, Angela Kallhoff, Marcello Di Paola, and Maria Schörgenhumer (eds.), London: Routledge, 110-121.

Crawford, Kate and Ryan Calo, 2016, "There Is a Blind Spot in AI Research", Nature, 538(7625): 311-313. doi:10.1038/538311a

Cristianini, Nello, forthcoming, "Shortcuts to Artificial Intelligence", in Machines We Trust, Marcello Pelillo and Teresa Scantamburlo (eds.), Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. [Cristianini forthcoming - preprint available online]

Danaher, John, 2015, "Why AI Doomsayers Are Like Sceptical Theists and Why It Matters", Minds and Machines, 25(3): 231-246. doi:10.1007/s11023-015-9365-y

---, 2016a, "Robots, Law and the Retribution Gap", Ethics and Information Technology, 18(4): 299-309. doi:10.1007/s10676-016-9403-3

---, 2016b, "The Threat of Algocracy: Reality, Resistance and Accommodation", Philosophy & Technology, 29(3): 245-268. doi:10.1007/s13347-015-0211-1

---, 2019a, Automation and Utopia: Human Flourishing in a World without Work, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

---, 2019b, "The Philosophical Case for Robot Friendship", Journal of Posthuman Studies, 3(1): 5-24. doi:10.5325/jpoststud.3.1.0005

---, forthcoming, "Welcoming Robots into the Moral Circle: A Defence of Ethical Behaviourism", Science and Engineering Ethics, first online: 20 June 2019. doi:10.1007/s11948-019-00119-x

Danaher, John and Neil McArthur (eds.), 2017, Robot Sex: Social and Ethical Implications, Boston, MA: MIT Press.

DARPA, 1983, "Strategic Computing. New-Generation Computing Technology: A Strategic Plan for Its Development an Application to Critical Problems in Defense", ADA141982, 28 October 1983. [DARPA 1983 available online]

Dennett, Daniel C, 2017, From Bacteria to Bach and Back: The Evolution of Minds, New York: W.W. Norton.

Devlin, Kate, 2018, Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots, London: Bloomsbury.

Diakopoulos, Nicholas, 2015, "Algorithmic Accountability: Journalistic Investigation of Computational Power Structures", Digital Journalism, 3(3): 398-415. doi:10.1080/21670811.2014.976411

Dignum, Virginia, 2018, "Ethics in Artificial Intelligence: Introduction to the Special Issue", Ethics and Information Technology, 20(1): 1-3. doi:10.1007/s10676-018-9450-z

Domingos, Pedro, 2015, The Master Algorithm: How the Quest for the Ultimate Learning Machine Will Remake Our World, London: Allen Lane.

Draper, Heather, Tom Sorell, Sandra Bedaf, Dag Sverre Syrdal, Carolina Gutierrez-Ruiz, Alexandre Duclos, and Farshid Amirabdollahian, 2014, "Ethical Dimensions of Human-Robot Interactions in the Care of Older People: Insights from 21 Focus Groups Convened in the UK, France and the Netherlands", in International Conference on Social Robotics 2014, Michael Beetz, Benjamin Johnston, and Mary-Anne Williams (eds.), (Lecture Notes in Artificial Intelligence 8755), Cham: Springer International Publishing, 135-145. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-11973-1_14

Dressel, Julia and Hany Farid, 2018, "The Accuracy, Fairness, and Limits of Predicting Recidivism", Science Advances, 4(1): eaao5580. doi:10.1126/sciadv.aao5580

Drexler, K. Eric, 2019, "Reframing Superintelligence: Comprehensive AI Services as General Intelligence", FHI Technical Report, 2019-1, 1-210. [Drexler 2019 available online]

Dreyfus, Hubert L., 1972, What Computers Still Can't Do: A Critique of Artificial Reason, second edition, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press 1992.

Dreyfus, Hubert L., Stuart E. Dreyfus, and Tom Athanasiou, 1986, Mind over Machine: The Power of Human Intuition and Expertise in the Era of the Computer, New York: Free Press.

Dwork, Cynthia, Frank McSherry, Kobbi Nissim, and Adam Smith, 2006, Calibrating Noise to Sensitivity in Private Data Analysis, Berlin, Heidelberg.

Eden, Amnon H., James H. Moor, Johnny H. Søraker, and Eric Steinhart (eds.), 2012, Singularity Hypotheses: A Scientific and Philosophical Assessment, (The Frontiers Collection), Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Berlin Heidelberg. doi:10.1007/978-3-642-32560-1

Eubanks, Virginia, 2018, Automating Inequality: How High-Tech Tools Profile, Police, and Punish the Poor, London: St. Martin's Press.

European Commission, 2013, "How Many People Work in Agriculture in the European Union? An Answer Based on Eurostat Data Sources", EU Agricultural Economics Briefs, 8 (July 2013). [Anonymous 2013 available online]

European Group on Ethics in Science and New Technologies, 2018, "Statement on Artificial Intelligence, Robotics and 'Autonomous' Systems", 9 March 2018, European Commission, Directorate-General for Research and Innovation, Unit RTD.01. [European Group 2018 available online ]

Ferguson, Andrew Guthrie, 2017, The Rise of Big Data Policing: Surveillance, Race, and the Future of Law Enforcement, New York: NYU Press.

Floridi, Luciano, 2016, "Should We Be Afraid of AI? Machines Seem to Be Getting Smarter and Smarter and Much Better at Human Jobs, yet True AI Is Utterly Implausible. Why?", Aeon, 9 May 2016. URL = <Floridi 2016 available online>

Floridi, Luciano, Josh Cowls, Monica Beltrametti, Raja Chatila, Patrice Chazerand, Virginia Dignum, Christoph Luetge, Robert Madelin, Ugo Pagallo, Francesca Rossi, Burkhard Schafer, Peggy Valcke, and Effy Vayena, 2018, "AI4People-An Ethical Framework for a Good AI Society: Opportunities, Risks, Principles, and Recommendations", Minds and Machines, 28(4): 689-707. doi:10.1007/s11023-018-9482-5

Floridi, Luciano and Jeff W. Sanders, 2004, "On the Morality of Artificial Agents", Minds and Machines, 14(3): 349-379. doi:10.1023/B:MIND.0000035461.63578.9d

Floridi, Luciano and Mariarosaria Taddeo, 2016, "What Is Data Ethics?", Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A: Mathematical, Physical and Engineering Sciences, 374(2083): 20160360. doi:10.1098/rsta.2016.0360

Foot, Philippa, 1967, "The Problem of Abortion and the Doctrine of the Double Effect", Oxford Review, 5: 5-15.

Fosch-Villaronga, Eduard and Jordi Albo-Canals, 2019, "'I'll Take Care of You,' Said the Robot", Paladyn, Journal of Behavioral Robotics, 10(1): 77-93. doi:10.1515/pjbr-2019-0006

Frank, Lily and Sven Nyholm, 2017, "Robot Sex and Consent: Is Consent to Sex between a Robot and a Human Conceivable, Possible, and Desirable?", Artificial Intelligence and Law, 25(3): 305-323. doi:10.1007/s10506-017-9212-y

Frankfurt, Harry G., 1971, "Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person", The Journal of Philosophy, 68(1): 5-20.

Frey, Carl Benedict, 2019, The Technology Trap: Capital, Labour, and Power in the Age of Automation, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Frey, Carl Benedikt and Michael A. Osborne, 2013, "The Future of Employment: How Susceptible Are Jobs to Computerisation?", Oxford Martin School Working Papers, 17 September 2013. [Frey and Osborne 2013 available online]

Ganascia, Jean-Gabriel, 2017, Le Mythe De La Singularité, Paris: Éditions du Seuil.

EU Parliament, 2016, "Draft Report with Recommendations to the Commission on Civil Law Rules on Robotics (2015/2103(Inl))", Committee on Legal Affairs, 10.11.2016. https://www.europarl.europa.eu/doceo/document/A-8-2017-0005_EN.html

EU Regulation, 2016/679, "General Data Protection Regulation: Regulation (EU) 2016/679 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 27 April 2016 on the Protection of Natural Persons with Regard to the Processing of Personal Data and on the Free Movement of Such Data, and Repealing Directive 95/46/Ec", Official Journal of the European Union, 119 (4 May 2016), 1-88. [Regulation (EU) 2016/679 available online]

Geraci, Robert M., 2008, "Apocalyptic AI: Religion and the Promise of Artificial Intelligence", Journal of the American Academy of Religion, 76(1): 138-166. doi:10.1093/jaarel/lfm101

---, 2010, Apocalyptic AI: Visions of Heaven in Robotics, Artificial Intelligence, and Virtual Reality, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195393026.001.0001

Gerdes, Anne, 2016, "The Issue of Moral Consideration in Robot Ethics", ACM SIGCAS Computers and Society, 45(3): 274-279. doi:10.1145/2874239.2874278

German Federal Ministry of Transport and Digital Infrastructure, 2017, "Report of the Ethics Commission: Automated and Connected Driving", June 2017, 1-36. [GFMTDI 2017 available online]

Gertz, Nolen, 2018, Nihilism and Technology, London: Rowman & Littlefield.

Gewirth, Alan, 1978, "The Golden Rule Rationalized", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 3(1): 133-147. doi:10.1111/j.1475-4975.1978.tb00353.x

Gibert, Martin, 2019, "Éthique Artificielle (Version Grand Public)", in L'Encyclopédie Philosophique, Maxime Kristanek (ed.), accessed: 16 April 2020, URL = <Gibert 2019 available online>

Giubilini, Alberto and Julian Savulescu, 2018, "The Artificial Moral Advisor. The 'Ideal Observer' Meets Artificial Intelligence", Philosophy & Technology, 31(2): 169-188. doi:10.1007/s13347-017-0285-z

Good, Irving John, 1965, "Speculations Concerning the First Ultraintelligent Machine", in Advances in Computers 6, Franz L. Alt and Morris Rubinoff (eds.), New York & London: Academic Press, 31-88. doi:10.1016/S0065-2458(08)60418-0

Goodfellow, Ian, Yoshua Bengio, and Aaron Courville, 2016, Deep Learning, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Goodman, Bryce and Seth Flaxman, 2017, "European Union Regulations on Algorithmic Decision-Making and a 'Right to Explanation'", AI Magazine, 38(3): 50-57. doi:10.1609/aimag.v38i3.2741

Goos, Maarten, 2018, "The Impact of Technological Progress on Labour Markets: Policy Challenges", Oxford Review of Economic Policy, 34(3): 362-375. doi:10.1093/oxrep/gry002

Goos, Maarten, Alan Manning, and Anna Salomons, 2009, "Job Polarization in Europe", American Economic Review, 99(2): 58-63. doi:10.1257/aer.99.2.58

Graham, Sandra and Brian S. Lowery, 2004, "Priming Unconscious Racial Stereotypes about Adolescent Offenders", Law and Human Behavior, 28(5): 483-504. doi:10.1023/B:LAHU.0000046430.65485.1f

Gunkel, David J., 2018a, "The Other Question: Can and Should Robots Have Rights?", Ethics and Information Technology, 20(2): 87-99. doi:10.1007/s10676-017-9442-4

---, 2018b, Robot Rights, Boston, MA: MIT Press.

Gunkel, David J. and Joanna J. Bryson (eds.), 2014, Machine Morality: The Machine as Moral Agent and Patient special issue ofPhilosophy & Technology, 27(1): 1-142.

Häggström, Olle, 2016, Here Be Dragons: Science, Technology and the Future of Humanity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198723547.001.0001

Hakli, Raul and Pekka Mäkelä, 2019, "Moral Responsibility of Robots and Hybrid Agents", The Monist, 102(2): 259-275. doi:10.1093/monist/onz009

Hanson, Robin, 2016, The Age of Em: Work, Love and Life When Robots Rule the Earth, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hansson, Sven Ove, 2013, The Ethics of Risk: Ethical Analysis in an Uncertain World, New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

---, 2018, "How to Perform an Ethical Risk Analysis (eRA)", Risk Analysis, 38(9): 1820-1829. doi:10.1111/risa.12978

Harari, Yuval Noah, 2016, Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow, New York: Harper.

Haskel, Jonathan and Stian Westlake, 2017, Capitalism without Capital: The Rise of the Intangible Economy, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Houkes, Wybo and Pieter E. Vermaas, 2010, Technical Functions: On the Use and Design of Artefacts, (Philosophy of Engineering and Technology 1), Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands. doi:10.1007/978-90-481-3900-2

IEEE, 2019, Ethically Aligned Design: A Vision for Prioritizing Human Well-Being with Autonomous and Intelligent Systems (First Version), <IEEE 2019 available online>.

Jasanoff, Sheila, 2016, The Ethics of Invention: Technology and the Human Future, New York: Norton.

Jecker, Nancy S., forthcoming, Ending Midlife Bias: New Values for Old Age, New York: Oxford University Press.

Jobin, Anna, Marcello Ienca, and Effy Vayena, 2019, "The Global Landscape of AI Ethics Guidelines", Nature Machine Intelligence, 1(9): 389-399. doi:10.1038/s42256-019-0088-2

Johnson, Deborah G. and Mario Verdicchio, 2017, "Reframing AI Discourse", Minds and Machines, 27(4): 575-590. doi:10.1007/s11023-017-9417-6

Kahnemann, Daniel, 2011, Thinking Fast and Slow, London: Macmillan.

Kamm, Frances Myrna, 2016, The Trolley Problem Mysteries, Eric Rakowski (ed.), Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190247157.001.0001

Kant, Immanuel, 1781/1787, Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Translated asCritique of Pure Reason, Norman Kemp Smith (trans.), London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1929.

Keeling, Geoff, 2020, "Why Trolley Problems Matter for the Ethics of Automated Vehicles", Science and Engineering Ethics, 26(1): 293-307. doi:10.1007/s11948-019-00096-1

Keynes, John Maynard, 1930, "Economic Possibilities for Our Grandchildren". Reprinted in his Essays in Persuasion, New York: Harcourt Brace, 1932, 358-373.

Kissinger, Henry A., 2018, "How the Enlightenment Ends: Philosophically, Intellectually-in Every Way-Human Society Is Unprepared for the Rise of Artificial Intelligence", The Atlantic, June 2018. [Kissinger 2018 available online]

Kurzweil, Ray, 1999, The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence, London: Penguin.

---, 2005, The Singularity Is Near: When Humans Transcend Biology, London: Viking.

---, 2012, How to Create a Mind: The Secret of Human Thought Revealed, New York: Viking.

Lee, Minha, Sander Ackermans, Nena van As, Hanwen Chang, Enzo Lucas, and Wijnand IJsselsteijn, 2019, "Caring for Vincent: A Chatbot for Self-Compassion", in Proceedings of the 2019 CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems-CHI '19, Glasgow, Scotland: ACM Press, 1-13. doi:10.1145/3290605.3300932

Levy, David, 2007, Love and Sex with Robots: The Evolution of Human-Robot Relationships, New York: Harper & Co.

Lighthill, James, 1973, "Artificial Intelligence: A General Survey", Artificial intelligence: A Paper Symposion, London: Science Research Council. [Lighthill 1973 available online]

Lin, Patrick, 2016, "Why Ethics Matters for Autonomous Cars", in Autonomous Driving, Markus Maurer, J. Christian Gerdes, Barbara Lenz, and Hermann Winner (eds.), Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Berlin Heidelberg, 69-85. doi:10.1007/978-3-662-48847-8_4

Lin, Patrick, Keith Abney, and Ryan Jenkins (eds.), 2017, Robot Ethics 2.0: From Autonomous Cars to Artificial Intelligence, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780190652951.001.0001

Lin, Patrick, George Bekey, and Keith Abney, 2008, "Autonomous Military Robotics: Risk, Ethics, and Design", ONR report, California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, 20 December 2008), 112 pp. [Lin, Bekey, and Abney 2008 available online]

Lomas, Meghann, Robert Chevalier, Ernest Vincent Cross, Robert Christopher Garrett, John Hoare, and Michael Kopack, 2012, "Explaining Robot Actions", in Proceedings of the Seventh Annual ACM/IEEE International Conference on Human-Robot Interaction-HRI '12, Boston, MA: ACM Press, 187-188. doi:10.1145/2157689.2157748

Macnish, Kevin, 2017, The Ethics of Surveillance: An Introduction, London: Routledge.

Mathur, Arunesh, Gunes Acar, Michael J. Friedman, Elena Lucherini, Jonathan Mayer, Marshini Chetty, and Arvind Narayanan, 2019, "Dark Patterns at Scale: Findings from a Crawl of 11K Shopping Websites", Proceedings of the ACM on Human-Computer Interaction, 3(CSCW): art. 81. doi:10.1145/3359183

Minsky, Marvin, 1985, The Society of Mind, New York: Simon & Schuster.

Misselhorn, Catrin, 2020, "Artificial Systems with Moral Capacities? A Research Design and Its Implementation in a Geriatric Care System", Artificial Intelligence, 278: art. 103179. doi:10.1016/j.artint.2019.103179

Mittelstadt, Brent Daniel and Luciano Floridi, 2016, "The Ethics of Big Data: Current and Foreseeable Issues in Biomedical Contexts", Science and Engineering Ethics, 22(2): 303-341. doi:10.1007/s11948-015-9652-2

Moor, James H., 2006, "The Nature, Importance, and Difficulty of Machine Ethics", IEEE Intelligent Systems, 21(4): 18-21. doi:10.1109/MIS.2006.80

Moravec, Hans, 1990, Mind Children, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

---, 1998, Robot: Mere Machine to Transcendent Mind, New York: Oxford University Press.

Mozorov, Eygeny, 2013, To Save Everything, Click Here: The Folly of Technological Solutionism, New York: Public Affairs.

Müller, Vincent C., 2012, "Autonomous Cognitive Systems in Real-World Environments: Less Control, More Flexibility and Better Interaction", Cognitive Computation, 4(3): 212-215. doi:10.1007/s12559-012-9129-4

---, 2016a, "Autonomous Killer Robots Are Probably Good News", In Drones and Responsibility: Legal, Philosophical and Socio-Technical Perspectives on the Use of Remotely Controlled Weapons, Ezio Di Nucci and Filippo Santoni de Sio (eds.), London: Ashgate, 67-81.

--- (ed.), 2016b, Risks of Artificial Intelligence, London: Chapman & Hall - CRC Press. doi:10.1201/b19187

---, 2018, "In 30 Schritten zum Mond? Zukünftiger Fortschritt in der KI", Medienkorrespondenz, 20: 5-15. [Müller 2018 available online]

---, 2020, "Measuring Progress in Robotics: Benchmarking and the 'Measure-Target Confusion'", in Metrics of Sensory Motor Coordination and Integration in Robots and Animals, Fabio Bonsignorio, Elena Messina, Angel P. del Pobil, and John Hallam (eds.), (Cognitive Systems Monographs 36), Cham: Springer International Publishing, 169-179. doi:10.1007/978-3-030-14126-4_9

---, forthcoming-a, Can Machines Think? Fundamental Problems of Artificial Intelligence, New York: Oxford University Press.

--- (ed.), forthcoming-b, Oxford Handbook of the Philosophy of Artificial Intelligence, New York: Oxford University Press.

Müller, Vincent C. and Nick Bostrom, 2016, "Future Progress in Artificial Intelligence: A Survey of Expert Opinion", in Fundamental Issues of Artificial Intelligence, Vincent C. Müller (ed.), Cham: Springer International Publishing, 555-572. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-26485-1_33

Newport, Cal, 2019, Digital Minimalism: On Living Better with Less Technology, London: Penguin.

Nørskov, Marco (ed.), 2017, Social Robots, London: Routledge.

Nyholm, Sven, 2018a, "Attributing Agency to Automated Systems: Reflections on Human-Robot Collaborations and Responsibility-Loci", Science and Engineering Ethics, 24(4): 1201-1219. doi:10.1007/s11948-017-9943-x

---, 2018b, "The Ethics of Crashes with Self-Driving Cars: A Roadmap, II", Philosophy Compass, 13(7): e12506. doi:10.1111/phc3.12506

Nyholm, Sven, and Lily Frank, 2017, "From Sex Robots to Love Robots: Is Mutual Love with a Robot Possible?", in Danaher and McArthur 2017: 219-243.

O'Connell, Mark, 2017, To Be a Machine: Adventures among Cyborgs, Utopians, Hackers, and the Futurists Solving the Modest Problem of Death, London: Granta.

O'Neil, Cathy, 2016, Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy, Largo, ML: Crown.

Omohundro, Steve, 2014, "Autonomous Technology and the Greater Human Good", Journal of Experimental & Theoretical Artificial Intelligence, 26(3): 303-315. doi:10.1080/0952813X.2014.895111

Ord, Toby, 2020, The Precipice: Existential Risk and the Future of Humanity, London: Bloomsbury.

Powers, Thomas M. and Jean-Gabriel Ganascia, forthcoming, "The Ethics of the Ethics of AI", in Oxford Handbook of Ethics of Artificial Intelligence, Markus D. Dubber, Frank Pasquale, and Sunnit Das (eds.), New York: Oxford.

Rawls, John, 1971, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press.

Rees, Martin, 2018, On the Future: Prospects for Humanity, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Richardson, Kathleen, 2016, "Sex Robot Matters: Slavery, the Prostituted, and the Rights of Machines", IEEE Technology and Society Magazine, 35(2): 46-53. doi:10.1109/MTS.2016.2554421

Roessler, Beate, 2017, "Privacy as a Human Right", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 117(2): 187-206. doi:10.1093/arisoc/aox008

Royakkers, Lambèr and Rinie van Est, 2016, Just Ordinary Robots: Automation from Love to War, Boca Raton, LA: CRC Press, Taylor & Francis. doi:10.1201/b18899

Russell, Stuart, 2019, Human Compatible: Artificial Intelligence and the Problem of Control, New York: Viking.

Russell, Stuart, Daniel Dewey, and Max Tegmark, 2015, "Research Priorities for Robust and Beneficial Artificial Intelligence", AI Magazine, 36(4): 105-114. doi:10.1609/aimag.v36i4.2577

SAE International, 2018, "Taxonomy and Definitions for Terms Related to Driving Automation Systems for on-Road Motor Vehicles", J3016_201806, 15 June 2018. [SAE International 2015 available online]

Sandberg, Anders, 2013, "Feasibility of Whole Brain Emulation", in Philosophy and Theory of Artificial Intelligence, Vincent C. Müller (ed.), (Studies in Applied Philosophy, Epistemology and Rational Ethics, 5), Berlin, Heidelberg: Springer Berlin Heidelberg, 251-264. doi:10.1007/978-3-642-31674-6_19

---, 2019, "There Is Plenty of Time at the Bottom: The Economics, Risk and Ethics of Time Compression", Foresight, 21(1): 84-99. doi:10.1108/FS-04-2018-0044

Santoni de Sio, Filippo and Jeroen van den Hoven, 2018, "Meaningful Human Control over Autonomous Systems: A Philosophical Account", Frontiers in Robotics and AI, 5(February): 15. doi:10.3389/frobt.2018.00015

Schneier, Bruce, 2015, Data and Goliath: The Hidden Battles to Collect Your Data and Control Your World, New York: W. W. Norton.

Searle, John R., 1980, "Minds, Brains, and Programs", Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 3(3): 417-424. doi:10.1017/S0140525X00005756

Selbst, Andrew D., Danah Boyd, Sorelle A. Friedler, Suresh Venkatasubramanian, and Janet Vertesi, 2019, "Fairness and Abstraction in Sociotechnical Systems", in Proceedings of the Conference on Fairness, Accountability, and Transparency-FAT* '19, Atlanta, GA: ACM Press, 59-68. doi:10.1145/3287560.3287598

Sennett, Richard, 2018, Building and Dwelling: Ethics for the City, London: Allen Lane.

Shanahan, Murray, 2015, The Technological Singularity, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Sharkey, Amanda, 2019, "Autonomous Weapons Systems, Killer Robots and Human Dignity", Ethics and Information Technology, 21(2): 75-87. doi:10.1007/s10676-018-9494-0

Sharkey, Amanda and Noel Sharkey, 2011, "The Rights and Wrongs of Robot Care", in Robot Ethics: The Ethical and Social Implications of Robotics, Patrick Lin, Keith Abney and George Bekey (eds.), Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 267-282.

Shoham, Yoav, Perrault Raymond, Brynjolfsson Erik, Jack Clark, James Manyika, Juan Carlos Niebles, ... Zoe Bauer, 2018, "The AI Index 2018 Annual Report", 17 December 2018, Stanford, CA: AI Index Steering Committee, Human-Centered AI Initiative, Stanford University. [Shoam et al. 2018 available online]

Silver, David, Thomas Hubert, Julian Schrittwieser, Ioannis Antonoglou, Matthew Lai, Arthur Guez, Marc Lanctot, Laurent Sifre, Dharshan Kumaran, Thore Graepel, Timothy Lillicrap, Karen Simonyan, and Demis Hassabis, 2018, "A General Reinforcement Learning Algorithm That Masters Chess, Shogi, and Go through Self-Play", Science, 362(6419): 1140-1144. doi:10.1126/science.aar6404

Simon, Herbert A. and Allen Newell, 1958, "Heuristic Problem Solving: The Next Advance in Operations Research", Operations Research, 6(1): 1-10. doi:10.1287/opre.6.1.1

Simpson, Thomas W. and Vincent C. Müller, 2016, "Just War and Robots' Killings", The Philosophical Quarterly, 66(263): 302-322. doi:10.1093/pq/pqv075

Smolan, Sandy (director), 2016, "The Human Face of Big Data", PBS Documentary, 24 February 2016, 56 mins.

Sparrow, Robert, 2007, "Killer Robots", Journal of Applied Philosophy, 24(1): 62-77. doi:10.1111/j.1468-5930.2007.00346.x

---, 2016, "Robots in Aged Care: A Dystopian Future?", AI & Society, 31(4): 445-454. doi:10.1007/s00146-015-0625-4

Stahl, Bernd Carsten, Job Timmermans, and Brent Daniel Mittelstadt, 2016, "The Ethics of Computing: A Survey of the Computing-Oriented Literature", ACM Computing Surveys, 48(4): art. 55. doi:10.1145/2871196

Stahl, Bernd Carsten and David Wright, 2018, "Ethics and Privacy in AI and Big Data: Implementing Responsible Research and Innovation", IEEE Security Privacy, 16(3): 26-33.

Stone, Christopher D., 1972, "Should Trees Have Standing - toward Legal Rights for Natural Objects", Southern California Law Review, 45: 450-501.

Stone, Peter, Rodney Brooks, Erik Brynjolfsson, Ryan Calo, Oren Etzioni, Greg Hager, Julia Hirschberg, Shivaram Kalyanakrishnan, Ece Kamar, Sarit Kraus, Kevin Leyton-Brown, David Parkes, William Press, AnnaLee Saxenian, Julie Shah, Milind Tambe, and Astro Teller, 2016, "Artificial Intelligence and Life in 2030", One Hundred Year Study on Artificial Intelligence: Report of the 2015-2016 Study Panel, Stanford University, Stanford, CA, September 2016. [Stone et al. 2016 available online]

Strawson, Galen, 1998, "Free Will", in Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Taylor & Francis. doi:10.4324/9780415249126-V014-1

Sullins, John P., 2012, "Robots, Love, and Sex: The Ethics of Building a Love Machine", IEEE Transactions on Affective Computing, 3(4): 398-409. doi:10.1109/T-AFFC.2012.31

Susser, Daniel, Beate Roessler, and Helen Nissenbaum, 2019, "Technology, Autonomy, and Manipulation", Internet Policy Review, 8(2): 30 June 2019. [Susser, Roessler, and Nissenbaum 2019 available online]

Taddeo, Mariarosaria and Luciano Floridi, 2018, "How AI Can Be a Force for Good", Science, 361(6404): 751-752. doi:10.1126/science.aat5991

Taylor, Linnet and Nadezhda Purtova, 2019, "What Is Responsible and Sustainable Data Science?", Big Data & Society, 6(2): art. 205395171985811. doi:10.1177/2053951719858114

Taylor, Steve, et al., 2018, "Responsible AI - Key Themes, Concerns & Recommendations for European Research and Innovation: Summary of Consultation with Multidisciplinary Experts", June. doi:10.5281/zenodo.1303252 [Taylor, et al. 2018 available online]

Tegmark, Max, 2017, Life 3.0: Being Human in the Age of Artificial Intelligence, New York: Knopf.

Thaler, Richard H and Sunstein, Cass, 2008, Nudge: Improving decisions about health, wealth and happiness, New York: Penguin.

Thompson, Nicholas and Ian Bremmer, 2018, "The AI Cold War That Threatens Us All", Wired, 23 November 2018. [Thompson and Bremmer 2018 available online]

Thomson, Judith Jarvis, 1976, "Killing, Letting Die, and the Trolley Problem", Monist, 59(2): 204-217. doi:10.5840/monist197659224

Torrance, Steve, 2011, "Machine Ethics and the Idea of a More-Than-Human Moral World", in Anderson and Anderson 2011: 115-137. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511978036.011

Trump, Donald J, 2019, "Executive Order on Maintaining American Leadership in Artificial Intelligence", 11 February 2019. [Trump 2019 available online]

Turner, Jacob, 2019, Robot Rules: Regulating Artificial Intelligence, Berlin: Springer. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-96235-1

Tzafestas, Spyros G., 2016, Roboethics: A Navigating Overview, (Intelligent Systems, Control and Automation: Science and Engineering 79), Cham: Springer International Publishing. doi:10.1007/978-3-319-21714-7

Vallor, Shannon, 2017, Technology and the Virtues: A Philosophical Guide to a Future Worth Wanting, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780190498511.001.0001

Van Lent, Michael, William Fisher, and Michael Mancuso, 2004, "An Explainable Artificial Intelligence System for Small-Unit Tactical Behavior", in Proceedings of the 16th Conference on Innovative Applications of Artifical Intelligence, (IAAI'04), San Jose, CA: AAAI Press, 900-907.

van Wynsberghe, Aimee, 2016, Healthcare Robots: Ethics, Design and Implementation, London: Routledge. doi:10.4324/9781315586397

van Wynsberghe, Aimee and Scott Robbins, 2019, "Critiquing the Reasons for Making Artificial Moral Agents", Science and Engineering Ethics, 25(3): 719-735. doi:10.1007/s11948-018-0030-8

Vanderelst, Dieter and Alan Winfield, 2018, "The Dark Side of Ethical Robots", in Proceedings of the 2018 AAAI/ACM Conference on AI, Ethics, and Society, New Orleans, LA: ACM, 317-322. doi:10.1145/3278721.3278726

Veale, Michael and Reuben Binns, 2017, "Fairer Machine Learning in the Real World: Mitigating Discrimination without Collecting Sensitive Data", Big Data & Society, 4(2): art. 205395171774353. doi:10.1177/2053951717743530

Véliz, Carissa, 2019, "Three Things Digital Ethics Can Learn from Medical Ethics", Nature Electronics, 2(8): 316-318. doi:10.1038/s41928-019-0294-2

Verbeek, Peter-Paul, 2011, Moralizing Technology: Understanding and Designing the Morality of Things, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Wachter, Sandra and Brent Daniel Mittelstadt, 2019, "A Right to Reasonable Inferences: Re-Thinking Data Protection Law in the Age of Big Data and AI", Columbia Business Law Review, 2019(2): 494-620.

Wachter, Sandra, Brent Mittelstadt, and Luciano Floridi, 2017, "Why a Right to Explanation of Automated Decision-Making Does Not Exist in the General Data Protection Regulation", International Data Privacy Law, 7(2): 76-99. doi:10.1093/idpl/ipx005

Wachter, Sandra, Brent Mittelstadt, and Chris Russell, 2018, "Counterfactual Explanations Without Opening the Black Box: Automated Decisions and the GDPR", Harvard Journal of Law & Technology, 31(2): 842-887. doi:10.2139/ssrn.3063289

Wallach, Wendell and Peter M. Asaro (eds.), 2017, Machine Ethics and Robot Ethics, London: Routledge.

Walsh, Toby, 2018, Machines That Think: The Future of Artificial Intelligence, Amherst, MA: Prometheus Books.

Westlake, Stian (ed.), 2014, Our Work Here Is Done: Visions of a Robot Economy, London: Nesta. [Westlake 2014 available online]

Whittaker, Meredith, Kate Crawford, Roel Dobbe, Genevieve Fried, Elizabeth Kaziunas, Varoon Mathur, ... Jason Schultz, 2018, "AI Now Report 2018", New York: AI Now Institute, New York University. [Whittaker et al. 2018 available online]

Whittlestone, Jess, Rune Nyrup, Anna Alexandrova, Kanta Dihal, and Stephen Cave, 2019, "Ethical and Societal Implications of Algorithms, Data, and Artificial Intelligence: A Roadmap for Research", Cambridge: Nuffield Foundation, University of Cambridge. [Whittlestone 2019 available online]

Winfield, Alan, Katina Michael, Jeremy Pitt, and Vanessa Evers (eds.), 2019, Machine Ethics: The Design and Governance of Ethical AI and Autonomous Systems, special issue of Proceedings of the IEEE, 107(3): 501-632.

Woollard, Fiona and Frances Howard-Snyder, 2016, "Doing vs. Allowing Harm", Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2016 edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2016/entries/doing-allowing/>

Woolley, Samuel C. and Philip N. Howard (eds.), 2017, Computational Propaganda: Political Parties, Politicians, and Political Manipulation on Social Media, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780190931407.001.0001

Yampolskiy, Roman V. (ed.), 2018, Artificial Intelligence Safety and Security, Boca Raton, FL: Chapman and Hall/CRC. doi:10.1201/9781351251389

Yeung, Karen and Martin Lodge (eds.), 2019, Algorithmic Regulation, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198838494.001.0001

Zayed, Yago and Philip Loft, 2019, "Agriculture: Historical Statistics", House of Commons Briefing Paper, 3339(25 June 2019): 1-19. [Zayed and Loft 2019 available online]

Zerilli, John, Alistair Knott, James Maclaurin, and Colin Gavaghan, 2019, "Transparency in Algorithmic and Human Decision-Making: Is There a Double Standard?", Philosophy & Technology, 32(4): 661-683. doi:10.1007/s13347-018-0330-6

Zuboff, Shoshana, 2019, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power, New York: Public Affairs.

Other Internet Resources

References

AI HLEG, 2019, "High-Level Expert Group on Artificial Intelligence: Ethics Guidelines for Trustworthy AI",European Commission, accessed: 9 April 2019.

Amodei, Dario and Danny Hernandez, 2018, "AI and Compute",OpenAI Blog, 16 July 2018.

Aneesh, A., 2002, Technological Modes of Governance: Beyond Private and Public Realms, paper in the Proceedings of the 4th International Summer Academy on Technology Studies, available at archive.org.

Brooks, Rodney, 2017, "The Seven Deadly Sins of Predicting the Future of AI", onRodney Brooks: Robots, AI, and Other Stuff, 7 September 2017.

Brundage, Miles, Shahar Avin, Jack Clark, Helen Toner, Peter Eckersley, Ben Garfinkel, Allan Dafoe, Paul Scharre, Thomas Zeitzoff, Bobby Filar, Hyrum Anderson, Heather Roff, Gregory C. Allen, Jacob Steinhardt, Carrick Flynn, Seán Ó hÉigeartaigh, Simon Beard, Haydn Belfield, Sebastian Farquhar, Clare Lyle, et al., 2018, "The Malicious Use of Artificial Intelligence: Forecasting, Prevention, and Mitigation", unpublished manuscript, ArXiv:1802.07228 [Cs].

Costa, Elisabeth and David Halpern, 2019, "The Behavioural Science of Online Harm and Manipulation, and What to Do About It: An Exploratory Paper to Spark Ideas and Debate", The Behavioural Insights Team Report, 1-82.

Gebru, Timnit, Jamie Morgenstern, Briana Vecchione, Jennifer Wortman Vaughan, Hanna Wallach, Hal Daumeé III, and Kate Crawford, 2018, "Datasheets for Datasets", unpublished manuscript, arxiv:1803.09010, 23 March 2018.

Gunning, David, 2017, "Explainable Artificial Intelligence (XAI)", Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) Program.

Harris, Tristan, 2016, "How Technology Is Hijacking Your Mind-from a Magician and Google Design Ethicist",Thrive Global, 18 May 2016.

International Federation of Robotics (IFR), 2019, World Robotics 2019 Edition.

Jacobs, An, Lynn Tytgat, Michel Maus, Romain Meeusen, and Bram Vanderborght (eds.), Homo Roboticus: 30 Questions and Answers on Man, Technology, Science & Art, 2019, Brussels: ASP.

Marcus, Gary, 2018, "Deep Learning: A Critical Appraisal", unpublished manuscript, 2 January 2018, arxiv:1801.00631.

McCarthy, John, Marvin Minsky, Nathaniel Rochester, and Claude E. Shannon, 1955, "A Proposal for the Dartmouth Summer Research Project on Artificial Intelligence", 31 August 1955.

Metcalf, Jacob, Emily F. Keller, and Danah Boyd, 2016, "Perspectives on Big Data, Ethics, and Society", 23 May 2016, Council for Big Data, Ethics, and Society.

National Institute of Justice (NIJ), 2014, "Overview of Predictive Policing", 9 June 2014.

Searle, John R., 2015, "Consciousness in Artificial Intelligence", Google's Singularity Network, Talks at Google (YouTube video).

Research Organizations

Conferences

Policy Documents

Other Relevant pages

Acknowledgments

Early drafts of this article were discussed with colleagues at the IDEA Centre of the University of Leeds, some friends, and my PhD students Michael Cannon, Zach Gudmunsen, Gabriela Arriagada-Bruneau and Charlotte Stix. Later drafts were made publicly available on the Internet and publicised via Twitter and e-mail to all (then) cited authors that I could locate. These later drafts were presented to audiences at the INBOTS Project Meeting (Reykjavik 2019), the Computer Science Department Colloquium (Leeds 2019), the European Robotics Forum (Bucharest 2019), the AI Lunch and the Philosophy & Ethics group (Eindhoven 2019)-many thanks for their comments.

I am grateful for detailed written comments by John Danaher, Martin Gibert, Elizabeth O'Neill, Sven Nyholm, Etienne B. Roesch, Emma Ruttkamp-Bloem, Tom Powers, Steve Taylor, and Alan Winfield. I am grateful for further useful comments by Colin Allen, Susan Anderson, Christof Wolf-Brenner, Rafael Capurro, Mark Coeckelbergh, Yazmin Morlet Corti, Erez Firt, Vasilis Galanos, Anne Gerdes, Olle Häggström, Geoff Keeling, Karabo Maiyane, Brent Mittelstadt, Britt Östlund, Steve Petersen, Brian Pickering, Zoë Porter, Amanda Sharkey, Melissa Terras, Stuart Russell, Jan F Veneman, Jeffrey White, and Xinyi Wu.

Parts of the work on this article have been supported by the European Commission under the INBOTS project (H2020 grant no. 780073).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Ethics of Artificial Intelligence and Robotics

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Artificial intelligence (AI) and robotics are digital technologies that will have significant impact on the development of humanity in the near future. They have raised fundamental questions about what we should do with these systems, what the systems themselves should do, what risks they involve, and how we can control these.

# data[].attributes.headline
7.13 Moral Machines: How Culture Changes Values

# data[].attributes.subject
7.13 Moral Machines: How Culture Changes Values

# data[].attributes.body
How do different cultures value human life? We make many moral decisions in our daily lives, and these are informed by our culture. However, when designing smart cars, we will need to encode these decisions ahead of time. How do we do this in a diverse world?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Moral Machines: How culture changes values​

# data[].attributes.headline
8.1 Introduction to Philosophy of Religion

# data[].attributes.subject
8.1 Introduction to Philosophy of Religion

# data[].attributes.body
This video introduces four major question: What is God? Does God exist? What is the problem of Evil? What is the relationship between faith and reason?

# data[].attributes.headline
8.2 Anselm & the Argument for God: Crash Course Philosophy #9

# data[].attributes.subject
8.2 Anselm & the Argument for God: Crash Course Philosophy #9

# data[].attributes.body
This video starts with a distinction between the philosophy of religion and theology, and proceeds to examine an argument for the existence for god.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Anselm & the Argument for God: Crash Course Philosophy #9

# data[].attributes.body
This article presents an overview of the philosophy of religion: on the meaning of religious beliefs, its relationship with epistemology and science, as well as arguments for theism and its alternatives.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. The Field and its Significance

Ideally, a guide to the nature and history of philosophy of religion would begin with an analysis or definition of religion. Unfortunately, there is no current consensus on a precise identification of the necessary and sufficient conditions of what counts as a religion. We therefore currently lack a decisive criterion that would enable clear rulings whether some movements should count as religions (e.g., Scientology or Cargo cults of the Pacific islands). But while consensus in precise details is elusive, the following general depiction of what counts as a religion may be helpful:

A religion involves a communal, transmittable body of teachings and prescribed practices about an ultimate, sacred reality or state of being that calls for reverence or awe, a body which guides its practitioners into what it describes as a saving, illuminating or emancipatory relationship to this reality through a personally transformative life of prayer, ritualized meditation, and/or moral practices like repentance and personal regeneration. [This is a slightly modified definition of the one for "Religion" in the Dictionary of Philosophy of Religion, Taliaferro & Marty 2010: 196-197; 2018, 240.]

This definition does not involve some obvious shortcomings such as only counting a tradition as religious if it involves belief in God or gods, as some recognized religions such as Buddhism (in its main forms) does not involve a belief in God or gods. Although controversial, the definition provides some reason for thinking Scientology and the Cargo cults are proto-religious insofar as these movements do not have a robust communal, transmittable body of teachings and meet the other conditions for being a religion. (So, while both examples are not decisively ruled out as religions, it is perhaps understandable that in Germany, Scientology is labeled a "sect", whereas in France it is classified as "a cult".) For a discussion of other definitions of religion, see Taliaferro 2009, chapter one, and for a recent, different analysis, see Graham Oppy 2018, chapter three. The topic of defining religion is re-engaged below in the section 4, "Religion and Science". But rather than devoting more space to definitions at the outset, a pragmatic policy will be adopted: for the purpose of this entry, it will be assumed that those traditions that are widely recognized today as religions are, indeed, religions. It will be assumed, then, that religions include (at least) Hinduism, Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and those traditions that are like them. This way of delimiting a domain is sometimes described as employing a definition by examples (an ostensive definition) or making an appeal to a family resemblance between things. It will also be assumed that Greco-Roman views of gods, rituals, the afterlife, the soul, are broadly "religious" or "religiously significant". Given the pragmatic, open-ended use of the term "religion" the hope is to avoid beginning our inquiry with a procrustean bed.

Given the above, broad perspective of what counts as religion, the roots of what we call philosophy of religion stretch back to the earliest forms of philosophy. From the outset, philosophers in Asia, the Near and Middle East, North Africa, and Europe reflected on the gods or God, duties to the divine, the origin and nature of the cosmos, an afterlife, the nature of happiness and obligations, whether there are sacred duties to family or rulers, and so on. As with each of what would come to be considered sub-fields of philosophy today (like philosophy of science, philosophy of art), philosophers in the Ancient world addressed religiously significant themes (just as they took up reflections on what we call science and art) in the course of their overall practice of philosophy. While from time to time in the Medieval era, some Jewish, Christian, and Islamic philosophers sought to demarcate philosophy from theology or religion, the evident role of philosophy of religion as a distinct field of philosophy does not seem apparent until the mid-twentieth century. A case can be made, however, that there is some hint of the emergence of philosophy of religion in the seventeenth century philosophical movement Cambridge Platonism. Ralph Cudworth (1617-1688), Henry More (1614-1687), and other members of this movement were the first philosophers to practice philosophy in English; they introduced in English many of the terms that are frequently employed in philosophy of religion today, including the term "philosophy of religion", as well as "theism", "consciousness",and "materialism". The Cambridge Platonists provided the first English versions of the cosmological, ontological, and teleological arguments, reflections on the relationship of faith and reason, and the case for tolerating different religions. While the Cambridge Platonists might have been the first explicit philosophers of religion, for the most part, their contemporaries and successors addressed religion as part of their overall work. There is reason, therefore, to believe that philosophy of religion only gradually emerged as a distinct sub-field of philosophy in the mid-twentieth century. (For an earlier date, see James Collins' stress on Hume, Kant and Hegel in The Emergence of Philosophy of Religion, 1967.)

Today, philosophy of religion is one of the most vibrant areas of philosophy. Articles in philosophy of religion appear in virtually all the main philosophical journals, while some journals (such as the International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, Religious Studies, Sophia, Faith and Philosophy, the European Journal for Philosophy of Religion, Open Theology, Analytical Theology and others) are dedicated especially to philosophy of religion. Philosophy of religion is in evidence at institutional meetings of philosophers (such as the meetings of the American Philosophical Association and of the Royal Society of Philosophy). There are societies dedicated to the field such as the Society for Philosophy of Religion (USA) and the British Society for Philosophy of Religion and the field is supported by multiple centers such as the Center for Philosophy of Religion at the University of Notre Dame, the Rutgers Center for Philosophy of Religion, the Centre for the Philosophy of Religion at Glasgow University, The John Hick Centre for Philosophy of Religion at the University of Birmingham, and other sites (such as the University of Roehampton and Nottingham University). Oxford University Press published in 2009 The History of Western Philosophy of Religion in five volumes involving over 100 contributors (Oppy & Trakakis 2009), and in 2021 Wiley Blackwell published the Encyclopedia of Philosophy of Religion in four volumes, with over 250 contributors from around the world. What accounts for this vibrancy? Consider four possible reasons.

First: The religious nature of the world population. Most social research on religion supports the view that the majority of the world's population is either part of a religion or influenced by religion (see the Pew Research Center online). To engage in philosophy of religion is therefore to engage in a subject that affects actual people, rather than only tangentially touching on matters of present social concern. Perhaps one of the reasons why philosophy of religion is often the first topic in textbook introductions to philosophy is that this is one way to propose to readers that philosophical study can impact what large numbers of people actually think about life and value. The role of philosophy of religion in engaging real life beliefs (and doubts) about religion is perhaps also evidenced by the current popularity of books for and against theism in the UK and USA. Interest in the question "is religion dangerous?" (the title of a 2006 book by Keith Ward) calls for work in history, sociology, and psychology, as well was philosophy of religion.

One other aspect of religious populations that may motivate philosophy of religion is that philosophy is a tool that may be used when persons compare different religious traditions. Philosophy of religion can play an important role in helping persons understand and evaluate different religious traditions and their alternatives. See, for example, the philosophically oriented survey Religions: a Quick Immersion and Victoria Harrison's Eastern Philosophy of Religion.

Second: Philosophy of religion as a field may be popular because of the overlapping interests found in both religious and philosophical traditions. Both religious and philosophical thinking raise many of the same, fascinating questions and possibilities about the nature of reality, the limits of reason, the meaning of life, and so on. Are there good reasons for believing in God? What is good and evil? What is the nature and scope of human knowledge? In Hinduism; A Contemporary Philosophical Investigation (2018), Shyam Ranganathan argues that in Asian thought philosophy and religion are almost inseparable such that interest in the one supports an interest in the other.

Third, studying the history of philosophy provides ample reasons to have some expertise in philosophy of religion. In the West, the majority of ancient, medieval, and modern philosophers philosophically reflected on matters of religious significance. Among these modern philosophers, it would be impossible to comprehensively engage their work without looking at their philosophical work on religious beliefs: René Descartes (1596-1650), Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), Anne Conway (1631-1679), Baruch Spinoza (1632-1677), Margaret Cavendish (1623-1673), Gottfried Leibniz (1646-1716), John Locke (1632-1704), George Berkeley (1685-1753), David Hume (1711-1776), Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), and G.W.F. Hegel (1770-1831) (the list is partial). And in the twentieth century, one should make note of the important philosophical work by Continental philosophers on matters of religious significance: Martin Heidegger (1889-1976), Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980), Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986), Albert Camus (1913-1960), Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973), Franz Rosenzweig (1886-1929), Martin Buber (1878-1956), Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995), Simone Weil (1909-1943) and, more recently Jacques Derrida (1930-2004), Michel Foucault (1926-1984), and Luce Irigaray (1930-). Evidence of philosophers taking religious matters seriously can also be found in cases of when thinkers who would not (normally) be classified as philosophers of religion have addressed religion, including A.N. Whitehead (1861-1947), Bertrand Russell (1872-1970), G.E. Moore (1873-1958), John Rawls (1921-2002), Bernard Williams (1929-2003), Hilary Putnam (1926-2016), Derek Parfit (1942-2017), Thomas Nagel (1937-), Jürgen Habermas (1929-), and others. Chris Firestone and Nathan Jacobs have done recent work highlighting the immense work on religions by modern philosophers that are sometimes ignored in secular histories of philosophy (see their The Persistence of the Sacred in Modern Thought).

In Chinese and Indian philosophy there is an even greater challenge than in the West to distinguish important philosophical and religious sources of philosophy of religion. It would be difficult to classify Nagarjuna (150-250 CE) or Adi Shankara (788-820 CE) as exclusively philosophical or religious thinkers. Their work seems as equally important philosophically as it is religiously (see Ranganathan 2018).

Fourth, a comprehensive study of theology or religious studies also provides good reasons to have expertise in philosophy of religion. As just observed, Asian philosophy and religious thought are intertwined and so the questions engaged in philosophy of religion seem relevant: what is space and time? Are there many things or one reality? Might our empirically observable world be an illusion? Could the world be governed by Karma? Is reincarnation possible? In terms of the West, there is reason to think that even the sacred texts of the Abrahamic faith involve strong philosophical elements: In Judaism, Job is perhaps the most explicitly philosophical text in the Hebrew Bible. The wisdom tradition of each Abrahamic faith may reflect broader philosophical ways of thinking; the Christian New Testament seems to include or address Platonic themes (the Logos, the soul and body relationship). Much of Islamic thought includes critical reflection on Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, as well as independent philosophical work.

Let us now turn to the way philosophers have approached the meaning of religious beliefs.

2. The Meaning of Religious Beliefs

Prior to the twentieth century, a substantial amount of philosophical reflection on matters of religious significance (but not all) has been realist. That is, it has often been held that religious beliefs are true or false. Xenophanes and other pre-Socratic thinkers, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, the Epicureans, the Stoics, Philo, Plotinus differed on their beliefs (or speculation) about the divine, and they and their contemporaries differed about skepticism, but they held (for example) that there either was a divine reality or not. Medieval and modern Jewish, Christian, and Islamic philosophers differed in terms of their assessment of faith and reason. They also faced important philosophical questions about the authority of revelation claims in the Hebrew Bible, the Christian Bible, and the Qur'an. In Asian philosophy of religion, some religions do not include revelation claims, as in Buddhism and Confucianism, but Hindu tradition confronted philosophers with assessing the Vedas and Upanishads. But for the most part, philosophers in the West and East thought there were truths about whether there is a God, the soul, an afterlife, that which is sacred (whether these are known or understood by any human being or not). Realism of some kind is so pervasive that the great historian of philosophy Richard Popkin (1923-2005) once defined philosophy as "the attempt the give an account of what is true and what is important" (Popkin 1999: 1). Important philosophers in the West such as Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) and Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), among others, challenged classical realist views of truth and metaphysics (ontology or the theory of what is), but the twentieth century saw two, especially powerful movements that challenged realism: logical positivism and philosophy of religion inspired by Wittgenstein.

As a preface to addressing these two movements, let us take note of some of the nuances in philosophical reflection on the realist treatment of religious language. Many theistic philosophers (and their critics) contend that language about God may be used univocally, analogically or equivocally. A term is used univocally about God and humans when it has the same sense. Arguably, the term "to know" is used univocally of God in the claims "God knows you" and "You know London", even though how God knows you and how you know London differ radically. In terms of the later difference, philosophers sometimes distinguish between what is attributed to some thing and the mode in which some state (such as knowledge) is realized. Terms are used analogously when there is some similarity between what is being attributed, e.g., when it is said that "two human persons love each other" and "God loves the world", the term "love" may be used analogically when there is some similarity between these loves). Terms are used equivocally when the meaning is different as in the statement "Adam knew Eve" (which in the King James' Bible meant Adam and Eve had intercourse) and "God knows the world" (while some of the Homeric gods did have intercourse with humans, this was not part of theistic worldviews). Theological work that stresses our ability to form a positive concept of the divine has been called the via positiva or catophatic theology. On the other hand, those who stress the unknowability of God embrace what is called the via negativa or apophatic theology. Maimonides (1135-1204) was a great proponent of the via negativa, favoring the view that we know God principally through what God is not (God is not material, not evil, not ignorant, and so on).

While some (but not all) philosophers of religion in the Continental tradition have aligned themselves with apophatic theology such as Levinas (who was non-theistic) and Jean-Luc Marion (1946-), a substantial amount (but not all) of analytically oriented philosophy of religion have tended to adopt the via positiva One of the challenges of apophatic theology is that it seems to make the philosophy of God remote from religious practices such as prayer, worship, trust in God's power and goodness, pilgrimages, and religious ethics. According to Karen Armstrong, some of the greatest theologians in the Abrahamic faiths held that God

was not good, divine, powerful, or intelligent in any way that we could understand. We could not even say that God "existed", because our concept of existence is too limited. Some of the sages preferred to say that God was "Nothing" because God was not another being... To these theologians some of our modern ideas about God would have seemed idolatrous. (Armstrong 2009: x)

A prima facie challenge to this position is that it is hard to believe that religious practitioners could pray or worship or trust in a being which was altogether inscrutable or a being that we cannot in any way understand. For a realist, via positiva philosophy of God that seeks to appreciate the force of apophatic theology, see Mikael Stenmark's "Competing conceptions of God: the personal God versus the God beyond being" (2015).

Let us now turn to two prominent philosophical movements that challenged a realist philosophy of God.

2.1 Positivism

"Positivism" is a term introduced by Auguste Comte (1798-1857), a French philosopher who championed the natural and social sciences over against theology and the philosophical practice of metaphysics. The term "positivism" was used later (sometimes amplified to Logical Positivism by A.J. Ayer) by a group of philosophers who met in Austria called the Vienna Circle from 1922 to 1938. This group, which included Moritz Schlick and Max Planck, advanced an empirical account of meaning, according to which for a proposition to be meaningful it needed either to be a conceptual or formal statement in mathematics or about analytic definitions ("triangles have three angles") or about matters that can be empirically verified or falsified. Ostensibly factual claims that do not make any difference in terms of our actual (or possible) empirical experience are void of meaning. A British philosopher, who visited the Vienna Circle, A.J. Ayer popularized this criterion of meaning in his 1936 book, Language, Truth, and Logic. In it, Ayer argued that religious claims as well as their denial were without cognitive content. By his lights, theism, and also atheism and agnosticism, were nonsense, because they were about the reality (or unreality or unknowability) of that which made no difference to our empirical experience. How might one empirically confirm or disconfirm that there is an incorporeal, invisible God or that Krishna is an avatar of Vishnu? Famously, Antony Flew employed this strategy in his likening the God of theism to a belief that there is an undetectable, invisible gardener who could not be heard or smelled or otherwise empirically discovered (Flew 1955). In addition to rejecting traditional religious beliefs as meaningless, Ayer and other logical positivists rejected the meaningfulness of moral statements. By their lights, moral or ethical statements were expressions of persons' feelings, not about values that have a reality independent of persons' feelings.

The logical positivist critique of religion is not dead. It can be seen at work in Herman Philipse's God in the Age of Science; A Critique of Religious Reasons (2012). Still, the criterion of meaning advanced by logical positivism faced a series of objections (for details see Copleston 1960 and Taliaferro 2005b).

Consider five objections that were instrumental in the retreat of logical positivism from its position of dominance.

First, it was charged that logical positivism itself is self-refuting. Is the statement of its standard of meaning (propositions are meaningful if and only if they are about the relations of ideas or about matters that are subject to empirical verification or falsification) itself about the relations of ideas or about matters that are subject to empirical verification or falsification? Arguably not. At best, the positivist criterion of meaning is a recommendation about what to count as meaningful.

Second, it was argued that there are meaningful statements about the world that are not subject to direct or indirect empirical confirmation or disconfirmation. Plausible candidates include statements about the origin of the cosmos or, closer to home, the mental states of other persons or of nonhuman animals (for discussion, see Van Cleve 1999 and Taliaferro 1994).

Third, limiting human experience to what is narrowly understood to be empirical seemed to many philosophers to be arbitrary or capricious. C. D. Broad and others defended a wider understanding of experience to allow for the meaningfulness of moral experience: arguably, one can experience the wrongness of an act as when an innocent person feels herself to be violated.

Fourth, Ayer's rejection of the meaningfulness of ethics seemed to cut against his epistemology or normative account of beliefs, for he construed empirical knowledge in terms of having the right to certain beliefs. If it is meaningful to refer to the right to beliefs, why is it not meaningful to refer to moral rights such as the right not to be tortured? And if we are countenancing a broader concept of what may be experienced, in the tradition of phenomenology (which involves the analysis of appearances) why rule out, as a matter of principle, the experience of the divine or the sacred?

Fifth, and probably most importantly in terms of the history of ideas, the seminal philosopher of science Carl Hempel (1905-1997) contended that the project of logical positivism was too limited (Hempel 1950). It was insensitive to the broader task of scientific inquiry which is properly conducted not on the tactical scale of scrutinizing particular claims about empirical experience but in terms of a coherent, overall theory or view of the world. According to Hempel, we should be concerned with empirical inquiry but see this as defined by an overall theoretical understanding of reality and the laws of nature. This was not ipso facto a position that favored the meaningfulness of religious belief, but Hempel's criticism of positivism removed their barrier for overall metaphysical accounts of reality, be these accounts theistic, pantheistic (roughly, God is everything), naturalistic, and so on. Moreover, the positivist critique of what they called metaphysics was attacked as confused as some metaphysics was implied in their claims about empirical experience; see the aptly titled classic The Metaphysics of Logical Positivism (1954) by Gustav Bergmann (1906-1987).

Let us now turn to Wittgenstein (1889-1951) and the philosophy of religion his work inspired.

2.2 Wittgensteinian Philosophy of Religion

Wittgenstein's early work was interpreted by some members of the Vienna Circle as friendly to their empiricism, but they were surprised when he visited the Circle and, rather than Wittgenstein discussing his Tractatus, he read them poetry by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), a Bengal mystic (see Taliaferro 2005b: chapter eight). In any case, Wittgenstein's later work, which was not friendly to their empiricism, was especially influential in post-World War II philosophy and theology and will be the focus here.

In the Philosophical Investigations (published posthumously in 1953) and in many other works (including the publication of notes taken by his students on his lectures), Wittgenstein opposed what he called the picture theory of meaning. On this view, statements are true or false depending upon whether reality matches the picture expressed by the statements. Wittgenstein came to see this view of meaning as deeply problematic. The meaning of language is, rather, to be found not in referential fidelity but in its use in what Wittgenstein referred to as forms of life. As this position was applied to religious matters, D.Z. Phillips (1966, 1976), B.R. Tilghman (1994), and, more recently, Howard Wettstein (2012), sought to displace traditional metaphysical debate and arguments over theism and its alternatives and to focus instead on the way language about God, the soul, prayer, resurrection, the afterlife, and so on, functions in the life of religious practitioners. For example, Phillips contended that the practice of prayer is best not viewed as humans seeking to influence an all powerful, invisible person, but to achieve solidarity with other persons in light of the fragility of life. Phillips thereby sees himself as following Wittgenstein's lead by focusing, not on which picture of reality seems most faithful, but on the non-theoretical ways in which religion is practiced.

To ask whether God exists is not to ask a theoretical question. If it is to mean anything at all, it is to wonder about praising and praying; it is to wonder whether there is anything in all that. This is why philosophy cannot answer the question "Does God exist?" with either an affirmative or a negative reply ... "There is a God", though it appears to be in the indicative mood, is an expression of faith. (Phillips 1976: 181; see also Phillips 1970: 16-17)

At least two reasons bolstered this philosophy of religion inspired by Wittgenstein. First, it seemed as though this methodology was more faithful to the practice of philosophy of religion being truly about the actual practice of religious persons themselves. Second, while there has been a revival of philosophical arguments for and against theism and alternative concepts of God (as will be noted in section 5), significant numbers of philosophers from the mid-twentieth century onward have concluded that all the traditional arguments and counter-arguments about the metaphysical claims of religion are indecisive. If that is the case, the Wittgenstein-inspired new philosophy of religion had the advantage of shifting ground to what might be a more promising area of agreement.

While this non-realist approach to religion has its defenders today, especially in work by Howard Wettstein, many philosophers have contended that traditional and contemporary religious life rests on making claims about what is truly the case in a realist context. It is hard to imagine why persons would pray to God if they, literally, thought there is no God of any kind. (see Wynn 2020, chapter six)

Interestingly, perhaps inheriting the Wittgenstein stress on practice, some philosophers working on religion today place greater stress on the meaning of religion in life, rather than seeing religious belief as primarily a matter of assessing an hypothesis (see Cottingham 2014).

3. Religious Epistemology

According to the prestigious Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, religious epistemology is "a branch of philosophy that investigates the epistemic status of propositional attitudes about religious claims" (Audi 2015: 925). Virtually all the extant and current methodologies in epistemology have been employed in assessing religious claims. Some of these methods have been more rationalistic in the sense that they have involved reasoning from ostensibly self-evident truths (e.g., a principle of sufficient reason), while others have been more experiential (e.g., empiricism, phenomenology, the stress on passion and subjectivity, the stress on practice as found in pragmatism). Also, some have sought to be ahistorical (not dependent upon historical revelation claims), while others are profoundly historical (e.g., grounded on revelation either known by faith alone or justified evidentially by an appeal to miracles and/or religious experience.

Over the past twenty years, there has been a growing literature on the nature of religious faith. Among many philosophers in the analytical tradition, faith has often been treated as the propositional attitude belief, e.g., believing that there is or is not a God, and much work devoted to examining when such belief is backed up by evidence and, if so, how much and what kinds of evidence. There has been a famous debate over "the ethics of belief", determining what kinds of belief should not be entertained or countenanced when the evidence is deemed insufficient, and when matters of religious faith may be justified on pragmatic grounds (e.g., as a wager or venture). Faith has also been philosophically treated as trust, a form of hope, an allegiance to an ideal, commitment, and faithful action with or without belief (for a survey see Abraham & Aquino 2017; for a recent defense of religious faith without belief, see Schellenberg 2017).

The following examines first what is known as evidentialism and reformed epistemology and then a form of what is called volitional epistemology of religion.

3.1 Evidentialism, Reformed Epistemology, and Volitional Epistemology

Evidentialism is the view that for a person to be justified in some belief, that person must have some awareness of the evidence for the belief. This is usually articulated as a person's belief being justified given the total evidence available to the person. On this view, the belief in question must not be undermined (or defeated) by other, evident beliefs held by the person. Moreover, evidentialists often contend that the degree of confidence in a belief should be proportional to the evidence. Evidentialism has been defended by representatives of all the different viewpoints in philosophy of religion: theism, atheism, advocates of non-theistic models of God, agnostics. Evidentialists have differed in terms of their accounts of evidence (what weight might be given to phenomenology?) and the relationship between evident beliefs (must beliefs either be foundational or basic or entailed by such foundational beliefs?) Probably the most well known evidentialist in the field of philosophy of religion who advocates for theism is Richard Swinburne (1934-).

Swinburne was (and is) the leading advocate of theistic natural theology since the early 1970s. Swinburne has applied his considerable analytical skills in arguing for the coherence and cogency of theism, and the analysis and defense of specific Christian teachings about the trinity, incarnation, the resurrection of Christ, revelation, and more. Swinburne's projects in the evidentialist tradition in philosophy of religion are in the great tradition of British philosophy of religion from the Cambridge Platonists in the seventeenth century through Joseph Butler (1692-1752) and William Paley (1743-1805) to twentieth century British philosophers such as A.E. Taylor (1869-1945), F. R. Tennant (1866-1957), William Temple (1881-1944), H.D. Lewis (1910-1992), and A.C. Ewing (1899-1973). The positive philosophical case for theism has been met by work by many powerful philosophers, most recently Ronald Hepburn (1927-2008), J.L. Mackie (1917-1981), Antony Flew (1923-2010), Richard Gale (1932-2015), William Rowe (1931-2015), Michael Martin (1932-2015), Graham Oppy (1960-), J.L. Schellenberg (1959-), and Paul Draper (1957-). (See The Routledge Companion to Theism [Taliaferro, Harrison, & Goetz 2012] for an overview of such work.)

There have been at least two interesting, recent developments in the philosophy of religion in the framework of evidentialism. One has been advanced by John Schellenberg who argues that if the God of Christianity exists, God's reality would be far more evident than it is. Arguably, in the Christian understanding of values, an evident relationship with God is part of the highest human good, and if God were loving, God would bring about such a good. Because there is evidence that God does not make Godself available to earnest seekers of such a relationship, this is evidence that such a God does not exist. According to this line of reasoning, the absence of evidence of the God of Christianity is evidence of absence (see Schellenberg 2007 and Howard-Snyder & Moser 2001). The argument applies beyond Christian values and theism, and to any concept of God in which God is powerful and good and such that a relationship with such a good God would be fulfilling and good for creatures. It would not work with a concept of God (as we find, for example, in the work of Aristotle) in which God is not lovingly and providentially engaged in the world. This line of reasoning is often referred to in terms of the hiddenness of God.

Another interesting development has been advanced by Sandra Menssen and Thomas Sullivan. In philosophical reflection about God the tendency has been to give priority to what may be called bare theism (assessing the plausibility of there being the God of theism) rather than a more specific concept of God. This priority makes sense insofar as the plausibility of a general thesis (there are mammals on the savanna) will be greater than a more specific thesis (there are 12,796 giraffes on the savanna). But Menssen and Sullivan argue that practicing philosophy of religion from a more particular, especially Christian, context, provides a richer "data base" for reflection.

The all-too-common insistence among philosophers that proper procedure requires establishing the likelihood of God's existence prior to testing revelatory claims cuts off a huge part of the data base relevant to arguing for theism... For it is difficult to establish God's existence as likely unless some account can be given of the evils of the world, and the account Christianity has to offer is unimaginably richer than any non-religious account. The Christian account, accessed through scripture, is a story of love: of God's love for us and of what God has prepared for those who love him... It is a story of the salvific value of suffering: our sufferings are caught up with Christ's, and are included in the sufferings adequate for the world's redemption, sufferings Christ has willed to make his own. (Menssen & Sullivan 2017: 37-38)

In terms of the order of inquiry, it may be helpful at times, to consider more specific philosophical positions-for example, it may seem at first glance that materialism is hopeless until one engages the resources of some specific materialist account that involves functionalism-but, arguably, this does not alone offset the logical primacy of the more general thesis (whether this is bare theism or bare materialism). Perhaps the import of the Menssen-Sullivan proposal is that philosophers of religion need to enhance their critical assessment of general positions along with taking seriously more specific accounts about the data on hand (e.g., when it comes to theism, assessing the problem of evil in terms of possible theological positions on redemption as presented in ostensible revelations).

Evidentialism has been challenged on many grounds. Some argue that it is too stringent; we have many evident beliefs that we would be at a loss to successfully justify. Instead of evidentialism, some philosophers adopt a form of reliabilism, according to which a person may be justified in a belief so long as the belief is produced by a reliable means, whether or not the person is aware of evidence that justifies the belief. Two movements in philosophy of religion develop positions that are not in line with the traditional evidential tradition: reformed epistemology and volitional epistemology.

Reformed epistemology has been championed by Alvin Plantinga (1932-) and Nicholas Wolterstorff (1932-), among others. Reformed epistemology is "Reformed" insofar as it draws on the Reformer John Calvin (1509-1564) who claimed that persons are created with a sense of God ( sensus divinitatis). While this sense of God may not be apparent due to sin, it can reliably prompt persons to believe in God and support a life of Christian faith. While this prompting may play an evidential role in terms of the experience or ostensible perception of God, it can also warrant Christian belief in the absence of evidence or argument (see K. Clark & VanArragon 2011; M. Bergmann 2017; and Plantinga & Bergmann 2016). In the language Plantinga introduced, belief in God may be as properly basic as our ordinary beliefs about other persons and the world. The framework of Reformed epistemology is conditional as it advances the thesis that if there is a God and if God has indeed created us with a sensus divinitatis that reliably leads us to believe (truly) that God exists, then such belief is warranted. There is a sense in which Reformed epistemology is more of a defensive strategy (offering grounds for thinking that religious belief, if true, is warranted) rather than providing a positive reason why persons who do not have (or believe they have) a sensus divinitatis should embrace Christian faith. Plantinga has argued that at least one alternative to Christian faith, secular naturalism, is deeply problematic, if not self-refuting, but this position (if cogent) has been advanced more as a reason not to be a naturalist than as a reason for being a theist. (For a stronger version of the argument that theism better accounts for the normativity of reason than alternatives, see Angus Menuge's Agents Under Fire, 2004.)

Reformed epistemology is not ipso facto fideism. Fideism explicitly endorses the legitimacy of faith without the support, not just of (propositional) evidence, but also of reason (MacSwain 2013). By contrast, Reformed epistemology offers a metaphysical and epistemological account of warrant according to which belief in God can be warranted even if it is not supported by evidence and it offers an account of properly basic belief according to which basic belief in God is on an epistemic par with our ordinary basic beliefs about the world and other minds which seem to be paradigmatically rational. Nonetheless, while Reformed epistemology is not necessarily fideistic, it shares with fideism the idea that a person may have a justified religious belief in the absence of evidence.

Consider now what is called volitional epistemology in the philosophy of religion. Paul Moser has systematically argued for a profoundly different framework in which he contends that if the God of Christianity exists, this God would not be evident to inquirers who (for example) are curious about whether God exists. By Moser's lights, the God of Christianity would only become evident in a process that would involve the moral and spiritual transformation of persons (Moser 2017). This process might involve persons receiving (accepting) the revelation of Jesus Christ as redeemer and sanctifier who calls persons to a radical life of loving compassion, even the loving of our enemies. By willfully subjecting oneself to the commanding love of God, a person in this filial relationship with God through Christ may experience a change of character (from self-centeredness to serving others) in which the person's character (or very being) may come to serve as evidence of the truths of faith.

3.2 The Epistemology of Disagreement

The terrain covered so far in this entry indicates considerable disagreement over epistemic justification and religious belief. If the experts disagree about such matters, what should non-experts think and do? Or, putting the question to the so-called experts, if you (as a trained inquirer) disagree about the above matters with those whom you regard as equally intelligent and sensitive to evidence, should that fact alone bring you to modify or even abandon the confidence you hold concerning your own beliefs?

Some philosophers propose that in the case of disagreements among epistemic peers, one should seek some kind of account of the disagreement. For example, is there any reason to think that the evidence available to you and your peers differs or is conceived of differently. Perhaps there are ways of explaining, for example, why Buddhists may claim not to observe themselves as substantial selves existing over time whereas a non-Buddhist might claim that self-observation provides grounds for believing that persons are substantial, enduring agents (David Lund 2005). The non-Buddhist might need another reason to prefer her framework over the Buddhist one, but she would at least (perhaps) have found a way of accounting for why equally reasonable persons would come to different conclusions in the face of ostensibly identical evidence.

Assessing the significance of disagreement over religious belief is very different from assessing the significance of disagreement in domains where there are clearer, shared understandings of methodology and evidence. For example, if two equally proficient detectives examine the same evidence that Smith murdered Jones, their disagreement should (other things being equal) lead us to modify confidence that Smith is guilty, for the detectives may be presumed to use the same evidence and methods of investigation. But in assessing the disagreements among philosophers over (for example) the coherence and plausibility of theism, philosophers today often rely on different methodologies (phenomenology, empiricism, conceptual or linguistic analysis, structural theory, post-structuralism, psychoanalysis, and so on). But what if a person accepts a given religion as reasonable and yet acknowledges that equally reasonable, mature, responsible inquirers adopt a different religion incompatible with her own and they all share a similar philosophical methodology? This situation is not an abstract thought experiment. In Christian-Muslim dialogue, philosophers often share a common philosophical inheritance from Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, and a broad range of shared views about the perfection of God/Allah.

One option would be to adopt an epistemological pluralism, according to which persons can be equally well justified in affirming incompatible beliefs. This option would seem to provide some grounds for epistemic humility (Audi 2011; Ward 2002, 2014, 2017). In an appropriately titled essay, "Why religious pluralism is not evil and is in some respects quite good", (2018) Robert McKim presents reasons why, from a philosophical point of view, it may be good to encourage (and not merely acknowledge) ostensibly equally reasonable worldviews. For an overview of the current state of play in philosophy of religion on the topic of religious disagreement, see "Disagreement and the Epistemology of Theology" (King & Kelly 2017).

At the end of this section, two observations are also worth noting about epistemic disagreements. First, our beliefs and our confidence in the truth of our beliefs may not be under our voluntary control. Perhaps you form a belief of the truth of Buddhism based on what you take to be compelling evidence. Even if you are convinced that equally intelligent persons do not reach a similar conclusion, that alone may not empower you to deny what seems to you to be compelling. Second, if the disagreement between experts gives you reason to abandon a position, then the very principle you are relying on (one should abandon a belief that X if experts disagree about X) would be undermined, for experts disagree about what one should do when experts disagree. For overviews and explorations of relevant philosophical work in a pluralistic setting, see New Models of Religious Understanding (2018) edited by Fiona Ellis and Renewing Philosophy of Religion (2017) edited by Paul Draper and J.L. Schellenberg. Two other resources are also highly recommended: In God, Knowledge, and the Good, Linda Zagzebski commends the epistemic importance of practicing philosophy in a communal setting and in On Evidence in Philosophy William Lycan offers a seasoned view of how to assess the epistemic credibility of arguments by philosophers.

4. Religion and Science

The relationship between religion and science has been an important topic in twentieth century philosophy of religion and it seems highly important today.

This section begins by considering the National Academy of Sciences and Institute of Medicine (now the National Academy of Medicine) statement on the relationship between science and religion:

Science and religion are based on different aspects of human experience. In science, explanations must be based on evidence drawn from examining the natural world. Scientifically based observations or experiments that conflict with an explanation eventually must lead to modification or even abandonment of that explanation. Religious faith, in contrast, does not depend only on empirical evidence, is not necessarily modified in the face of conflicting evidence, and typically involves supernatural forces or entities. Because they are not a part of nature, supernatural entities cannot be investigated by science. In this sense, science and religion are separate and address aspects of human understanding in different ways. Attempts to pit science and religion against each other create controversy where none needs to exist. (NASIM 2008: 12)

This view of science and religion seems promising on many fronts. If the above statement on science and religion is accepted, then it seems to insure there is minimal conflict between two dynamic domains of what the Academies refer to as "human experience". The National Academies do seem to be correct in implying that the key elements of many religions do not admit of direct scientific investigations nor rest "only on empirical evidence". Neither God nor Allah nor Brahman (the divine as conceived of in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism) is a physical or material object or process. It seems, then, that the divine or the sacred and many other elements in world religions (meditation, prayer, sin and forgiveness, deliverance from craving) can only be indirectly investigated scientifically. So, a neurologist can produce detailed studies of the brains of monks and nuns when they pray and meditate, and there can be comparative studies of the health of those who practice a religion and those who do not, but it is very hard to conceive of how to scientifically measure God or Allah or Brahman or the Dao, heaven, and so on. Despite the initial plausibility of the Academies stance, however, it may be problematic.

First, a minor (and controversial) critical point in response to the Academies: The statement makes use of the terms "supernatural forces or entities" that "are not part of nature". The term "supernatural" is not the standard term used to refer only to God or the divine, probably (in part) because in English the term "supernatural" refers not just to God or the divine, but also to poltergeists, ghosts, devils, witches, mediums, oracles, and so on. The later are a panoply of what is commonly thought of as preposterous superstition. (The similarity of the terms supernatural and superstitious may not be an accident.) The standard philosophical term to reference God in the English language, from the seventeenth century onward, is theism (from the Greek theos for god/God). So, rather than the statement refer to "supernatural forces or entities", a more charitable phrase might refer to how many world religions are theistic or involve some sacred reality that is not directly, empirically measurable.

Moving beyond this minor point about terminology, religious beliefs have traditionally and today been thought of as subject to evidence. Evidence for religious beliefs have included appeal to the contingency of the cosmos and principles of explanation, the ostensibly purposive nature of the cosmos, the emergence of consciousness, and so on. Evidence against religious belief have included appeal to the evident, quantity of evil in the cosmos, the success of the natural sciences, and so on.

One reason, however, for supporting the Academies notion that religion and science do not overlap is the fact that in modern science there has been a bracketing of reference to minds and the mental. That is, the sciences have been concerned with a mind-independent physical world, whereas in religion this is chiefly a domain concerned with mind (feelings, emotions, thoughts, ideas, and so on), created minds and (in the case of some religions) the mind of God. The science of Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton was carried out with an explicit study of the world without appeal to anything involving what today would be referred to as the psychological, the mind or the mental. So, Newton's laws of motion about the attraction and repulsion of material objects make no mention of how love or desire or emotional need might be required to explain the motion of two material bodies to embrace romantically. The bracketing of mind from the physical sciences was not a sign of early scientists having any doubts about the existence, power and importance of minds. That is, from Kepler through Newton and on to the early twentieth century, scientists themselves did not doubt the causal significance of minds; they simply did not include minds (their own or the minds of others) among the data of what they were studying. But interestingly, each of the early modern scientists believed that what they were studying was in some fashion made possible by the whole of the natural world (terrestrial and celestial) being created and sustained in existence by a Divine Mind, an all good, necessarily existing Creator. They had an overall or comprehensive worldview according to which science itself was reasonable and made sense. Scientists have to have a kind of faith or trust in their methods and that the cosmos is so ordered that their methods are effective and reliable. The earliest modern scientists thought such faith (in what Einstein refers to as "the rationality and intelligibility of the world" (Cain 2015: 42, quoting a 1929 statement in Einstein 1954 [1973: 262]) was reasonable because of their belief in the existence of God (Cain 2015).

Whether there is sufficient evidence for or against some religious conception of the cosmos will be addressed in section 4. Let us contrast briefly, however, two very different views on whether contemporary science has undermined religious belief.

According to Steven Pinker, science has shown the beliefs of many religions to be false.

To begin with, the findings of science entail that the belief systems of all the world's traditional religions and cultures-their theories of the origins of life, humans, and societies-are factually mistaken. We know, but our ancestors did not, that humans belong to a single species of African primate that developed agriculture, government, and writing late in its history. We know that our species is a tiny twig of a genealogical tree that embraces all living things and that emerged from prebiotic chemicals almost four billion years ago.... We know that the laws governing the physical world (including accidents, disease, and other misfortunes) have no goals that pertain to human well-being. There is no such thing as fate, providence, karma, spells, curses, augury, divine retribution, or answered prayer-though the discrepancy between the laws of probability and the workings of cognition may explain why people think there is. (Pinker 2013)

Following up on Pinker, it should be noted that it would not be scientifically acceptable today to appeal to miracles or to direct acts of God. Any supposed miracle would (to many, if not all scientists) be a kind of defeat and to welcome an unacceptable mystery. This is why some philosophers of science propose that the sciences are methodologically atheistic. That is, while science itself does not pass judgment on whether God exists (even though some philosophers of science do), appealing to God's existence forms no part of their scientific theories and investigations.

There is some reason to think that Pinker's case may be overstated, however, and that it would be more fair to characterize the sciences as methodologically agnostic (simply not taking a view on the matter of whether or not God exists) rather than atheistic (taking a position on the matter). First, Pinker's examples of what science has shown to be wrong, seem unsubstantial. As Michael Ruse points out:

The arguments that are given for suggesting that science necessitates atheism are not convincing. There is no question that many of the claims of religion are no longer tenable in light of modern science. Adam and Eve, Noah's Flood, the sun stopping for Joshua, Jonah and the whale, and much more. But more sophisticated Christians know that already. The thing is that these things are not all there is to religions, and many would say that they are far from the central claims of religion-God existing and being creator and having a special place for humans and so forth. (Ruse 2014: 74-75)

Ruse goes on to note that religions address important concerns that go beyond what is approachable only from the standpoint of the natural sciences.

Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the purpose of it all? And (somewhat more controversially) what are the basic foundations of morality and what is sentience? Science takes the world as given Science sees no ultimate purpose to reality... I would say that as science does not speak to these issues, I see no reason why the religious person should not offer answers. They cannot be scientific answers. They must be religious answers-answers that will involve a God or gods. There is something rather than nothing because a good God created them from love out of nothing. The purpose of it all is to find eternal bliss with the Creator. Morality is a function of God's will; it is doing what He wants us to do. Sentience is that by which we realize that we are made in God's image. We humans are not just any old kind of organism. This does not mean that the religious answers are beyond criticism, but they must be answered on philosophical or theological grounds and not simply because they are not scientific. (2014: 76)

The debate over religion and science is ongoing (for promising work, see Stenmark 2001, 2004).

5. Philosophical Reflection on Theism and Its Alternatives

For much of the history of philosophy of religion, there has been stress on the assessment of theism. Non-theistic concepts of the divine have increasingly become part of philosophy of religion (see, for example, Buckareff & Nagasawa 2016; Diller & Kasher 2013; and Harrison 2006, 2012, 2015). Section 6 makes special note of this broadening of horizons. As noted at the outset of this entry, theism still has some claim for special attention given the large world population that is aligned with theistic traditions (the Abrahamic faiths and theistic Hinduism) and the enormity of attention given to the defense and critique of theism in philosophy of religion historically and today.

5.1 Philosophical Reflection on Divine Attributes

Speculation about divine attributes in theistic tradition has often been carried out in accord with what is currently referred to as perfect being theology, according to which God is understood to be maximally excellent or unsurpassable in greatness. This tradition was (famously) developed by Anselm of Canterbury (1033/4-1109). For a contemporary work offering an historic overview of Anselmian theism, see Yujin Nagasawa's Maximal God; A New Defense of Perfect Being Theism (2017). Divine attributes in this tradition have been identified by philosophers as those attributes that are the greatest compossible set of great-making properties; properties are compossible when they can be instantiated by the same being. Traditionally, the divine attributes have been identified as omnipotence, omniscience, perfect goodness, worthiness of worship, necessary of non-contingent existence, and eternality (existing outside of time or atemporally). Each of these attributes has been subject to nuanced different analysis, as noted below. God has also been traditionally conceived to be incorporeal or immaterial, immutable, impassable, omnipresent. And unlike Judaism and Islam, Christian theists conceive of God as triune (the Godhead is not homogenous but consists of three Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) and incarnate as Jesus of Nazareth (fully God and fully human).

One of the tools philosophers use in their investigation into divine attributes involve thought experiments. In thought experiments, hypothetical cases are described-cases that may or may not represent the way things are. In these descriptions, terms normally used in one context are employed in expanded settings. Thus, in thinking of God as omniscient, one might begin with a non-controversial case of a person knowing that a proposition is true, taking note of what it means for someone to possess that knowledge and of the ways in which the knowledge is secured. A theistic thought experiment would seek to extend our understanding of knowledge as we think of it in our own case, working toward the conception of a maximum or supreme intellectual excellence befitting the religious believers' understanding of God. Various degrees of refinement would then be in order, as one speculates not only about the extent of a maximum set of propositions known but also about how these might be known. That is, in attributing omniscience to God, would one thereby claim God knows all truths in a way that is analogous to the way we come to know truths about the world? Too close an analogy would produce a peculiar picture of God relying upon, for example, induction, sensory evidence, or the testimony of others. One move in the philosophy of God has been to assert that the claim "God knows something" employs the word "knows" univocally when read as picking out the thesis that God knows something, while it uses the term in only a remotely analogical sense if read as identifying how God knows (Swinburne 1977).

Using thought experiments often employs an appearance principle. One version of an appearance principle is that a person has a reason for believing that some state of affairs (SOA) is possible if she can conceive, describe or imagine the SOA obtaining and she knows of no independent reasons for believing the SOA is impossible. As stated the principle is advanced as simply offering a reason for believing the SOA to be possible, and it thus may be seen a advancing a prima facie reason. But it might be seen as a secundum facie reason insofar as the person carefully scrutinizes the SOA and its possible defeaters (see Taliaferro & Knuths 2017). Some philosophers are skeptical of appealing to thought experiments (see Van Inwagen 1998; for a defense see Taliaferro 2002, Kwan 2013, and Swinburne 1979; for general treatments see Sorensen 1992 and Gendler & Hawthorne 2002).

5.1.1 Omniscience

Imagine there is a God who knows the future free action of human beings. If God does know you will freely do some act X, then it is true that you will indeed do X. But if you are free, would you not be free to avoid doing X? Given that it is foreknown you will do X, it appears you would not be free to refrain from the act.

Initially this paradox seems easy to dispel. If God knows about your free action, then God knows that you will freely do something and that you could have refrained from it. God's foreknowing the act does not make it necessary. Does not the paradox only arise because the proposition, "Necessarily, if God knows X, then X" is confused with "If God knows X, then necessarily X?" After all, it is necessarily the case that if someone knows you are reading this entry right now, then it is true that you are reading this entry, but your reading this entry may still be seen as a contingent, not necessary state of affairs. But the problem is not so easily diffused, however, because God's knowledge, unlike human knowledge, is infallible, and if God infallibly knows that some state of affairs obtains then it cannot be that the state of affairs does not obtain. Think of what is sometimes called the necessity of the past. Once a state of affairs has obtained, it is unalterably or necessarily the case that it did occur. If the future is known precisely and comprehensively, isn't the future like the past, necessarily or unalterably the case? If the problem is put in first-person terms and one imagines God foreknows you will freely turn to a different entry in this Encyclopedia (moreover, God knows with unsurpassable precision when you will do so, which entry you will select and what you will think about it), then an easy resolution of the paradox seems elusive. To highlight the nature of this problem, imagine God tells you what you will freely do in the next hour. Under such conditions, is it still intelligible to believe you have the ability to do otherwise if it is known by God as well as yourself what you will indeed elect to do? Self-foreknowledge, then, produces an additional related problem because the psychology of choice seems to require prior ignorance about what will be choose.

Various replies to the freedom-foreknowledge debate have been given. Some adopt compatibilism, affirming the compatibility of free will and determinism, and conclude that foreknowledge is no more threatening to freedom than determinism. While some prominent philosophical theists in the past have taken this route (most dramatically Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758)), this seems to be the minority position in philosophy of religion today (exceptions include Paul Helm, John Fischer, and Lynne Baker). A second position adheres to the libertarian outlook, which insists that freedom involves a radical, indeterminist exercise of power, and concludes that God cannot know future free action. What prevents such philosophers from denying that God is omniscient is that they contend there are no truths about future free actions, or that while there are truths about the future, God either cannot know those truths (Swinburne) or freely decides not to know them in order to preserve free choice (John Lucas). On the first view, prior to someone's doing a free action, there is no fact of the matter that he or she will do a given act. This is in keeping with a traditional, but controversial, interpretation of Aristotle's philosophy of time and truth. Aristotle may have thought it was neither true nor false prior to a given sea battle whether a given side would win it. Some theists, such as Richard Swinburne, adopt this line today, holding that the future cannot be known. If it cannot be known for metaphysical reasons, then omniscience can be analyzed as knowing all that it is possible to know. That God cannot know future free action is no more of a mark against God's being omniscient than God's inability to make square circles is a mark against God's being omnipotent. Other philosophers deny the original paradox. They insist that God's foreknowledge is compatible with libertarian freedom and seek to resolve the quandary by claiming that God is not bound in time (God does not so much foreknow the future as God knows what for us is the future from an eternal viewpoint) and by arguing that the unique vantage point of an omniscient God prevents any impingement on freedom. God can simply know the future without this having to be grounded on an established, determinate future. But this only works if there is no necessity of eternity analogous to the necessity of the past. Why think that we have any more control over God's timeless belief than over God's past belief? If not, then there is an exactly parallel dilemma of timeless knowledge. For outstanding current analysis of freedom and foreknowledge, see the work of Linda Zagzebski.

5.1.2 Eternity

Could there be a being that is outside time? In the great monotheistic traditions, God is thought of as without any kind of beginning or end. God will never, indeed, can never, cease to be. Some philosophical theists hold that God's temporality is very much like ours in the sense that there is a before, during, and an after for God, or a past, present, and future for God. This view is sometimes referred to as the thesis that God is everlasting. Those adopting a more radical stance claim that God is independent of temporality, arguing either that God is not in time at all, or that God is "simultaneously" at or in all times. This is sometimes called the view that God is eternal as opposed to everlasting.

Why adopt the more radical stance? One reason, already noted, is that if God is not temporally bound, there may be a resolution to the earlier problem of reconciling freedom and foreknowledge. As St. Augustine of Hippo put it:

so that of those things which emerge in time, the future, indeed, are not yet, and the present are now, and the past no longer are; but all of these are by Him comprehended in His stable and eternal presence. ( The City of God, XI.21)

If God is outside time, there may also be a secure foundation explaining God's immutability (changelessness), incorruptibility, and immortality. Furthermore, there may be an opportunity to use God's standing outside of time to launch an argument that God is the creator of time.

Those affirming God to be unbounded by temporal sequences face several puzzles which I note without trying to settle. If God is somehow at or in all times, is God simultaneously at or in each? If so, there is the following problem. If God is simultaneous with the event of Rome burning in 410 CE, and also simultaneous with your reading this entry, then it seems that Rome must be burning at the same time you are reading this entry. (This problem was advanced by Nelson Pike (1970); Stump and Kretzmann 1981 have replied that the simultaneity involved in God's eternal knowledge is not transitive). A different problem arises with respect to eternity and omniscience. If God is outside of time, can God know what time it is now? Arguably, there is a fact of the matter that it is now, say, midnight on 1 July 2018. A God outside of time might know that at midnight on 1 July 2018 certain things occur, but could God know when it is now that time? The problem is that the more emphasis one places on the claim that God's supreme existence is independent of time, the more one seems to jeopardize taking seriously time as it is known. Finally, while the great monotheistic traditions provide a portrait of the Divine as supremely different from the creation, there is also an insistence on God's proximity or immanence. For some theists, describing God as a person or person-like (God loves, acts, knows) is not to equivocate. But it is not clear that an eternal God could be personal. For recent work on God's relation to time, see work by Katherine Rogers (2007, 2008).

5.1.3 The goodness of God

All known world religions address the nature of good and evil and commend ways of achieving human well-being, whether this be thought of in terms of salvation, liberation, deliverance, enlightenment, tranquility, or an egoless state of Nirvana. Notwithstanding important differences, there is a substantial overlap between many of these conceptions of the good as witnessed by the commending of the Golden Rule ("Do unto others as you would have them do unto you") in many religions. Some religions construe the Divine as in some respect beyond our human notions of good and evil. In some forms of Hinduism, for example, Brahman has been extolled as possessing a sort of moral transcendence, and some Christian theologians and philosophers have likewise insisted that God is only a moral agent in a highly qualified sense, if at all (Davies 1993). To call God good is, for them, very different from calling a human being good.

Here are only some of the ways in which philosophers have articulated what it means to call God good. In treating the matter, there has been a tendency either to explain God's goodness in terms of standards that are not God's creation and thus, in some measure, independent of God's will, or in terms of God's will and the standards God has created. The latter view has been termed theistic voluntarism. A common version of theistic voluntarism is the claim that for something to be good or right simply means that God approves of permits it and for something to be bad or wrong means that God disapproves or forbids it.

Theistic voluntarists face several difficulties: moral language seems intelligible without having to be explained in terms of the Divine will. Indeed, many people make what they take to be objective moral judgments without making any reference to God. If they are using moral language intelligibly, how could it be that the very meaning of such moral language should be analyzed in terms of Divine volitions? New work in the philosophy of language may be of use to theistic voluntarists. According to a causal theory of reference, "water" necessarily designates H ₂O. It is not a contingent fact that water is H ₂ O notwithstanding the fact that many people can use the term "water" without knowing its composition. Similarly, could it not be the case that "good" may refer to that which is willed by God even though many people are not aware of (or even deny) the existence of God? Another difficulty for voluntarism lies in accounting for the apparent meaningful content of claims like "God is good". It appears that in calling God or in particular God's will "good" the religious believer is saying more than "God wills what God wills". If so, must not the very notion of goodness have some meaning independent of God's will? Also at issue is the worry that if voluntarism is accepted, the theist has threatened the normative objectivity of moral judgments. Could God make it the case that moral judgments were turned upside down? For example, could God make cruelty good? Arguably, the moral universe is not so malleable. In reply, some voluntarists have sought to understand the stability of the moral laws in light of God's immutably fixed, necessary nature.

By understanding God's goodness in terms of God's being (as opposed to God's will alone), one comes close to the non-voluntarist stand. Aquinas and others hold that God is essentially good in virtue of God's very being. All such positions are non-voluntarist in so far as they do not claim that what it means for something to be good is that God wills it to be so. The goodness of God may be articulated in various ways, either by arguing that God's perfection requires God being good as an agent or by arguing that God's goodness can be articulated in terms of other Divine attributes such as those outlined above. For example, because knowledge is in itself good, omniscience is a supreme good. God has also been considered good in so far as God has created and conserves in existence a good cosmos. Debates over the problem of evil (if God is indeed omnipotent and perfectly good, why is there evil?) have poignancy precisely because one side challenges this chief judgment about God's goodness. (The debate over the problem of evil is taken up in section 5.2.4.)

The choice between voluntarism and seeing God's very being as good is rarely strict. Some theists who oppose a full-scale voluntarism allow for partial voluntarist elements. According to one such moderate stance, while God cannot make cruelty good, God can make some actions morally required or morally forbidden which otherwise would be morally neutral. Arguments for this have been based on the thesis that the cosmos and all its contents are God's creation. According to some theories of property, an agent making something good gains entitlements over the property. The crucial moves in arguments that the cosmos and its contents belong to their Creator have been to guard against the idea that human parents would then "own" their children (they do not, because parents are not radical creators like God), and the idea that Divine ownership would permit anything, thus construing human duties owed to God as the duties of a slave to a master (a view to which not all theists have objected). Theories spelling out why and how the cosmos belongs to God have been prominent in all three monotheistic traditions. Plato defended the notion, as did Aquinas and Locke (see Brody 1974 for a defense).

A new development in theorizing about God's goodness has been advanced in Zagzebski 2004. Zagzebski contends that being an exemplary virtuous person consists in having good motives. Motives have an internal, affective or emotive structure. An emotion is "an affective perception of the world" (2004: xvi) that "initiates and directs action" (2004: 1). The ultimate grounding of what makes human motives good is that they are in accord with the motives of God. Zagzebski's theory is perhaps the most ambitious virtue theory in print, offering an account of human virtues in light of theism. Not all theists resonate with her bold claim that God is a person who has emotions, but many allow that (at least in some analogical sense) God may be see as personal and having affective states.

One other effort worth noting to link judgments of good and evil with judgments about God relies upon the ideal observer theory of ethics. According to this theory, moral judgments can be analyzed in terms of how an ideal observer would judge matters. To say an act is right entails a commitment to holding that if there were an ideal observer, it would approve of the act; to claim an act is wrong entails the thesis that if there were an ideal observer, it would disapprove of it. The theory can be found in works by Hume, Adam Smith, R.M. Hare, and R. Firth (see Firth 1952 [1970]). The ideal observer is variously described, but typically is thought of as an impartial omniscient regarding non-moral facts (facts that can be grasped without already knowing the moral status or implications of the fact-for instance, "He did something bad" is a moral fact; "He hit Smith" is not), and as omnipercipient (Firth's term for adopting a position of universal affective appreciation of the points of view of all involved parties). The theory receives some support from the fact that most moral disputes can be analyzed in terms of different parties challenging each other to be impartial, to get their empirical facts straight, and to be more sensitive-for example, by realizing what it feels like to be disadvantaged. The theory has formidable critics and defenders. If true, it does not follow that there is an ideal observer, but if it is true and moral judgments are coherent, then the idea of an ideal observer is coherent. Given certain conceptions of God in the three great monotheistic traditions, God fits the ideal observer description (and more besides, of course). This need not be unwelcome to atheists. Should an ideal observer theory be cogent, a theist would have some reason for claiming that atheists committed to normative, ethical judgments are also committed to the idea of a God or a God-like being. (For a defense of a theistic form of the ideal observer theory, see Taliaferro 2005a; for criticism see Anderson 2005. For further work on God, goodness, and morality, see Evans 2013 and Hare 2015. For interesting work on the notion of religious authority, see Zagzebski 2012.)

It should be noted that in addition to attention to the classical divine attributes discussed in this section, there has also been philosophical work on divine simplicity, immutability, impassibility, omnipresence, God's freedom, divine necessity, sovereignty, God's relationship with abstract objects, Christian teachings about the Trinity, the incarnation, atonement, the sacraments, and more.

5.2 God's Existence

In some introductory philosophy textbooks and anthologies, the arguments for God's existence are presented as ostensible proofs which are then shown to be fallible. For example, an argument from the apparent order and purposive nature of the cosmos will be criticized on the grounds that, at best, the argument would establish there is a purposive, designing intelligence at work in the cosmos. This falls far short of establishing that there is a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, benevolent, and so on. But two comments need to be made: First, that "meager" conclusion alone would be enough to disturb a scientific naturalist who wishes to rule out all such transcendent intelligence. Second, few philosophers today advance a single argument as a proof. Customarily, a design argument might be advanced alongside an argument from religious experience, and the other arguments to be considered below. True to Hempel's advice (cited earlier) about comprehensive inquiry, it is increasingly common to see philosophies-scientific naturalism or theism-advanced with cumulative arguments, a whole range of considerations, and not with a supposed knock-down, single proof.

This section surveys some of the main theistic arguments.

5.2.1 Ontological arguments

There is a host of arguments under this title; version of the argument works, then it can be deployed using only the concept of God as maximally excellent and some modal principles of inference, that is, principles concerning possibility and necessity. The argument need not resist all empirical support, however, as shall be indicated. The focus of the argument is the thesis that, if there is a God, then God's existence is necessary. In other words, God's existence is not contingent-God is not the sort of being that just happens to exist or not exist. That necessary existence is built into the concept of God can be supported by appealing to the way God is conceived in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions. This would involve some a posteriori, empirical research into the way God is thought of in these traditions. Alternatively, a defender of the ontological argument might hope to convince others that the concept of God is the concept of a being that exists necessarily by beginning with the idea of a maximally perfect being. If there were a maximally perfect being, what would it be like? It has been argued that among its array of great-making qualities (omniscience and omnipotence) would be necessary existence. Once fully articulated, it can be argued that a maximally perfect being which existed necessarily could be called "God". For an interesting, recent treatment of the relationship between the concept of there being a necessarily existing being and there being a God, see Necessary Existence by Alexander Pruss and Joshua Rasmussen (2018: chapters one to three).

The ontological argument goes back to St. Anselm (1033/34-1109), but this section shall explore a current version relying heavily on the principle that if something is possibly necessarily the case, then it is necessarily the case (or, to put it redundantly, it is necessarily necessary). The principle can be illustrated in the case of propositions. That six is the smallest perfect number (that number which is equal to the sum of its divisors including one but not including itself) does not seem to be the sort of thing that might just happen to be true. Rather, either it is necessarily true or necessarily false. If the latter, it is not possible, if the former, it is possible. If one knows that it is possible that six is the smallest perfect number, then one has good reason to believe that. Does one have reason to think it is possible that God exists necessarily? Defenders of the argument answer in the affirmative and infer that God exists. There have been hundreds of objections and replies to this argument. Perhaps the most ambitious objection is that the same sort of reasoning can be used to argue that God cannot exist; for if it is possible that God not exist and necessary existence is part of the meaning of "God", then it follows that God cannot exist.

Classical, alternative versions of the ontological argument are propounded by Anselm, Spinoza, and Descartes, with current versions by Alvin Plantinga, Charles Hartshorne, Norman Malcolm, and C. Dore; classical critics include Gaunilo and Kant, and current critics are many, including William Rowe, J. Barnes, G. Oppy, and J. L. Mackie. The latest book-length treatments of the ontological argument are two defenses: Rethinking the Ontological Argument by Daniel Dombrowski (2006) and Yujin Nagasawa's Maximal God; A New Defence of Perfect Being Theism (2017). Not every advocate of perfect being theology embraces the ontological argument. Famously Thomas Aquinas did not accept the ontological argument. Alvin Plantinga, who is one of the philosophers responsible for the revival of interest in the ontological argument, contends that while he, personally, takes the argument to be sound (because he believes that the conclusion that God exists necessarily is true, which entails that the premise, that it is possible that God exists necessarily is true) he does not think the argument has sufficient force to convince an atheist. (Plantinga 1974: 216-217) For a recent new contribution to the ontological argument, see Brian Leftow's Anselm's Argument; Divine Necessity .

5.2.2 Cosmological arguments

Arguments in this vein are more firmly planted in empirical, a posteriori reflection than the ontological argument, but some versions employ a priori reasons as well. There are various versions. Some argue that the cosmos had an initial cause outside it, a First Cause in time. Others argue that the cosmos has a necessary, sustaining cause from instant to instant, whether or not the cosmos had a temporal origin. The two versions are not mutually exclusive, for it is possible both that the cosmos had a First Cause and that it has a continuous, sustaining cause.

The cosmological argument relies on the intelligibility of the notion of there being at least one powerful being which is self-existing or whose origin and continued being does not depend on any other being. This could be either the all-out necessity of supreme pre-eminence across all possible worlds used in versions of the ontological argument, or a more local, limited notion of a being that is uncaused in the actual world. If successful, the argument would provide reason for thinking there is at least one such being of extraordinary power responsible for the existence of the cosmos. At best, it may not justify a full picture of the God of religion (a First Cause would be powerful, but not necessarily omnipotent), but it would nonetheless challenge naturalistic alternatives and provide some reason theism. (The later point is analogous to the idea that evidence that there was some life on another planet would not establish that such life is intelligent, but it increases-perhaps only slightly-the hypothesis that there is intelligent life on another planet.)

Both versions of the argument ask us to consider the cosmos in its present state. Is the world as we know it something that necessarily exists? At least with respect to ourselves, the planet, the solar system and the galaxy, it appears not. With respect to these items in the cosmos, it makes sense to ask why they exist rather than not. In relation to scientific accounts of the natural world, such enquiries into causes make abundant sense and are perhaps even essential presuppositions of the natural sciences. Some proponents of the argument contend that we know a priori that if something exists there is a reason for its existence. So, why does the cosmos exist? Arguably, if explanations of the contingent existence of the cosmos (or states of the cosmos) are only in terms of other contingent things (earlier states of the cosmos, say), then a full cosmic explanation will never be attained. However, if there is at least one necessarily (non-contingent) being causally responsible for the cosmos, the cosmos does have an explanation. At this point the two versions of the argument divide.

Arguments to a First Cause in time contend that a continuous temporal regress from one contingent existence to another would never account for the existence of the cosmos, and they conclude that it is more reasonable to accept there was a First Cause than to accept either a regress or the claim that the cosmos just came into being from nothing. Arguments to a sustaining cause of the cosmos claim that explanations of why something exists now cannot be adequate without assuming a present, contemporaneous sustaining cause. The arguments have been based on the denial of all actual infinities or on the acceptance of some infinities (for instance, the coherence of supposing there to be infinitely many stars) combined with the rejection of an infinite regress of explanations solely involving contingent states of affairs. The latter has been described as a vicious regress as opposed to one that is benign. There are plausible examples of vicious infinite regresses that do not generate explanations: for instance, imagine that Tom explains his possession of a book by reporting that he got it from A who got it from B, and so on to infinity. This would not explain how Tom got the book. Alternatively, imagine a mirror with light reflected in it. Would the presence of light be successfully explained if one claimed that the light was a reflection of light from another mirror, and the light in that mirror came from yet another mirror, and so on to infinity? Consider a final case. You come across a word you do not understand; let it be "ongggt". You ask its meaning and are given another word which is unintelligible to you, and so on, forming an infinite regress. Would you ever know the meaning of the first term? The force of these cases is to show how similar they are to the regress of contingent explanations.

Versions of the argument that reject all actual infinities face the embarrassment of explaining what is to be made of the First Cause, especially since it might have some features that are actually infinite. In reply, Craig and others have contended that they have no objection to potential infinities (although the First Cause will never cease to be, it will never become an actual infinity). They further accept that prior to the creation, the First Cause was not in time, a position relying on the theory that time is relational rather than absolute. The current scientific popularity of the relational view may offer support to defenders of the argument.

It has been objected that both versions of the cosmological argument set out an inflated picture of what explanations are reasonable. Why should the cosmos as a whole need an explanation? If everything in the cosmos can be explained, albeit through infinite, regressive accounts, what is left to explain? One may reply either by denying that infinite regresses actually do satisfactorily explain, or by charging that the failure to seek an explanation for the whole is arbitrary. The question, "Why is there a cosmos?" seems a perfectly intelligible one. If there are accounts for things in the cosmos, why not for the whole? The argument is not built on the fallacy of treating every whole as having all the properties of its parts. But if everything in the cosmos is contingent, it seems just as reasonable to believe that the whole cosmos is contingent as it is to believe that if everything in the cosmos were invisible, the cosmos as a whole would be invisible.

Another objection is that rather than explaining the contingent cosmos, the cosmological argument introduces a mysterious entity of which we can make very little philosophical or scientific sense. How can positing at least one First Cause provide a better account of the cosmos than simply concluding that the cosmos lacks an ultimate account? In the end, the theist seems bound to admit that why the First Cause created at all was a contingent matter. If, on the contrary, the theist has to claim that the First Cause had to do what it did, would not the cosmos be necessary rather than contingent?

Some theists come close to concluding that it was indeed essential that God created the cosmos. If God is supremely good, there had to be some overflowing of goodness in the form of a cosmos (see Stump & Kretzmann 1981, on the ideas of Dionysius the Areopagite; see Rowe 2004 for arguments that God is not free). But theists typically reserve some role for the freedom of God and thus seek to retain the idea that the cosmos is contingent. Defenders of the cosmological argument still contend that its account of the cosmos has a comprehensive simplicity lacking in alternative views. God's choices may be contingent, but not God's existence and the Divine choice of creating the cosmos can be understood to be profoundly simple in its supreme, overriding endeavor, namely to create something good. Swinburne has argued that accounting for natural laws in terms of God's will provides for a simple, overarching framework within which to comprehend the order and purposive character of the cosmos (see also Foster 2004).

Defenders of the cosmological argument include Swinburne, Richard Taylor, Hugo Meynell, Timothy O'Connor, Bruce Reichenbach, Robert Koons, Alexander Pruss, and William Rowe; prominent opponents include Antony Flew, Michael Martin, Howard Sobel, Graham Oppy, Nicholas Everitt, and J. L Mackie. While Rowe had defended the cosmological argument, his reservations about the principle of sufficient reason prevents his accepting the argument as fully satisfying.

5.2.3 Teleological arguments

These arguments focus on characteristics of the cosmos that seem to reflect the design or intentionality of God or, more modestly, of one or more powerful, intelligent God-like, purposive forces. Part of the argument may be formulated as providing evidence that the cosmos is the sort of reality that would be produced by an intelligent being, and then arguing that positing this source is more reasonable than agnosticism or denying it. As in the case of the cosmological argument, the defender of the teleological argument may want to claim it only provides some reason for thinking there is a God. It may be that some kind of cumulative case for theism would require construing various arguments as mutually reinforcing. If successful in arguing for an intelligent, trans-cosmos cause, the teleological argument may provide some reason for thinking that the First Cause of the cosmological argument (if it is successful) is purposive, while the ontological argument (if it has some probative force) may provides some reason for thinking that it makes sense to posit a being that has Divine attributes and necessarily exists. Behind all of them an argument from religious experience (to be addressed below) may provide some reasons to seek further support for a religious conception of the cosmos and to question the adequacy of naturalism.

One version of the teleological argument will depend on the intelligibility of purposive explanation. In our own human case it appears that intentional, purposive explanations are legitimate and can truly account for the nature and occurrence of events. In thinking about an explanation for the ultimate character of the cosmos, is it more likely for the cosmos to be accounted for in terms of a powerful, intelligent agent or in terms of a naturalistic scheme of final laws with no intelligence behind them? Theists employing the teleological argument draw attention to the order and stability of the cosmos, the emergence of vegetative and animal life, the existence of consciousness, morality, rational agents and the like, in an effort to identify what might plausibly be seen as purposive explicable features of the cosmos. Naturalistic explanations, whether in biology or physics, are then cast as being comparatively local in application when held up against the broader schema of a theistic metaphysics. Darwinian accounts of biological evolution will not necessarily assist us in thinking through why there are either any such laws or any organisms to begin with. Arguments supporting and opposing the teleological argument will then resemble arguments about the cosmological argument, with the negative side contending that there is no need to move beyond a naturalistic account, and the positive side aiming to establish that failing to go beyond naturalism is unreasonable.

In assessing the teleological argument, consider the objection from uniqueness. The cosmos is utterly unique. There is no access to multiple universes, some of which are known to be designed and some are known not to be. Without being able o compare the cosmos to alternative sets of cosmic worlds, the argument fails. Replies to this objection have contended that were we to insist that inferences in unique cases are out of order, then this would rule out otherwise respectable scientific accounts of the origin of the cosmos. Besides, while it is not possible to compare the layout of different cosmic histories, it is in principle possible to envisage worlds that seem chaotic, random, or based on laws that cripple the emergence of life. Now we can envisage an intelligent being creating such worlds, but, through considering their features, we can articulate some marks of purposive design to help judge whether the cosmos is more reasonably believed to be designed rather than not designed. Some critics appeal to the possibility that the cosmos has an infinite history to bolster and re-introduce the uniqueness objection. Given infinite time and chance, it seems likely that something like our world will come into existence, with all its appearance of design. If so, why should we take it to be so shocking that our world has its apparent design, and why should explaining the world require positing one or more intelligent designers? Replies repeat the earlier move of insisting that if the objection were to be decisive, then many seemingly respectable accounts would also have to fall by the wayside. It is often conceded that the teleological argument does not demonstrate that one or more designers are required; it seeks rather to establish that positing such purposive intelligence is reasonable and preferable to naturalism. Recent defenders of the argument include George Schlesinger, Robin Collins, and Richard Swinburne. It is rejected by J. L. Mackie, Michael Martin, Nicholas Everitt, and many others.

One feature of the teleological argument currently receiving increased attention focuses on epistemology. It has been argued by Richard Taylor (1963), Alvin Plantinga (2011 and in Beilby 2002), and others that if we reasonably rely on our cognitive faculties, it is reasonable to believe that these are not brought about by naturalistic forces-forces that are entirely driven by chance or are the outcome of processes not formed by an overriding intelligence. An illustration may help to understand the argument. Imagine Tom coming across what appears to be a sign reporting some information about his current altitude (some rocks in a configuration giving him his current location and precise height above sea-level in meters). If he had reason to believe that this "sign" was totally the result of chance configurations, would he be reasonable to trust it? Some theists argue that it would not be reasonable, and that trusting our cognitive faculties requires us to accept that they were formed by an overarching, good, creative agent. This rekindles Descartes' point about relying on the goodness of God to ensure that our cognitive faculties are in good working order. Objections to this argument center on naturalistic explanations, especially those friendly to evolution. In evolutionary epistemology, one tries to account for the reliability of cognitive faculties in terms of trial and error leading to survival. A rejoinder by theists is that survival alone is not necessarily linked to true beliefs. It could, in principle, be false beliefs that enhance survival. In fact, some atheists think that believing in God has been crucial to people's survival, though the belief is radically false. Evolutionary epistemologists reply that the lack of a necessary link between beliefs that promote survival and truth and the fact that some false beliefs or unreliable belief producing mechanisms promote survival nor falls far short of undermining evolutionary epistemology. See Martin (1990), Mackie (1983), and Tooley (see Tooley's chapters 2, 4, and 6 in Plantinga & Tooley 2008), among others, object to the epistemic teleological argument.

Another recent development in teleological argumentation has involved an argument from fine-tuning.

Fine tuning arguments contend that life would not exist were it not for the fact that multiple physical parameters (e.g., the cosmological constant and the ratio of the mass of the neutron to the mass of the proton) have numerical values that fall within a range of values known to be life-permitting that is very narrow compared to the range of values that are compatible with current physical theory and are known to be life-prohibiting. For example, even minor changes to the nuclear weak force would not have allowed for stars, nor would stars have endured if the ratio of electromagnetism to gravity had been much different. John Leslie observes:

Alterations by less than one part in a billion to the expansion speed early in the Big Bang would have led to runaway expansion, everything quickly becoming so dilute that no stars could have formed, or else to gravitational collapse inside under a second. (Leslie 2007: 76)

Robin Collins and others have argued that theism better accounts for the fine tuning than naturalism (see Collins 2009; for criticism of the argument, see Craig & Smith 1993). For a collection of articles covering both sides of the debate and both biological and cosmological design arguments, see Manson 2003.

A more sustained objection against virtually all versions of the teleological argument takes issue with the assumption that the cosmos is good or that it is the sort of thing that would be brought about by an intelligent, completely benevolent being. This leads us directly to the next central concern of the philosophy of God.

5.2.4 Problems of evil

If there is a God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and completely good, why is there evil? The problem of evil is the most widely considered objection to theism in both Western and Eastern philosophy. There are two general versions of the problem: the deductive or logical version, which asserts that the existence of any evil at all (regardless of its role in producing good) is incompatible with God's existence; and the probabilistic version, which asserts that given the quantity and severity of evil that actually exists, it is unlikely that God exists. The deductive problem is currently less commonly debated because many (but not all) philosophers acknowledge that a thoroughly good being might allow or inflict some harm under certain morally compelling conditions (such as causing a child pain when removing a splinter). More intense debate concerns the likelihood (or even possibility) that there is a completely good God given the vast amount of evil in the cosmos. Such evidential arguments from evil may be deductive or inductive arguments but they include some attempt to show that some known fact about evil bears a negative evidence relation to theism (e.g., it lowers its probability or renders it improbable) whether or not it is logically incompatible with theism. Consider human and animal suffering caused by death, predation, birth defects, ravaging diseases, virtually unchecked human wickedness, torture, rape, oppression, and "natural disasters". Consider how often those who suffer are innocent. Why should there be so much gratuitous, apparently pointless evil?

In the face of the problem of evil, some philosophers and theologians deny that God is all-powerful and all-knowing. John Stuart Mill took this line, and panentheist theologians today also question the traditional treatments of Divine power. According to panentheism, God is immanent in the world, suffering with the oppressed and working to bring good out of evil, although in spite of God's efforts, evil will invariably mar the created order. Another response is to think of God as being very different from a moral agent. Brian Davies and others have contended that what it means for God to be good is different from what it means for an agent to be morally good (Davies 2006). See also Mark Murphy's 2017 book God's Own Ethics; Norms of Divine Agency and the Argument from Evil. A different, more substantial strategy is to deny the existence of evil, but it is difficult to reconcile traditional monotheism with moral skepticism. Also, insofar as we believe there to be a God worthy of worship and a fitting object of human love, the appeal to moral skepticism will carry little weight. The idea that evil is a privation or twisting of the good may have some currency in thinking through the problem of evil, but it is difficult to see how it alone could go very far to vindicate belief in God's goodness. Searing pain and endless suffering seem altogether real even if they are analyzed as being philosophically parasitic on something valuable. The three great monotheistic, Abrahamic traditions, with their ample insistence on the reality of evil, offer little reason to try to defuse the problem of evil by this route. Indeed, classical Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are so committed to the existence of evil that a reason to reject evil would be a reason to reject these religious traditions. What would be the point of the Judaic teaching about the Exodus (God liberating the people of Israel from slavery), or the Christian teaching about the incarnation (Christ revealing God as love and releasing a Divine power that will, in the end, conquer death), or the Islamic teaching of Mohammed (the holy prophet of Allah, whom is all-just and all-merciful) if slavery, hate, death, and injustice did not exist?

In part, the magnitude of the difficulty one takes the problem of evil to pose for theism will depend upon one's commitments in other areas of philosophy, especially ethics, epistemology, and metaphysics. If in ethics you hold that there should be no preventable suffering for any reason, regardless of the cause or consequence, then the problem of evil will conflict with your acceptance of traditional theism. Moreover, if you hold that any solution to the problem of evil should be evident to all persons, then again traditional theism is in jeopardy, for clearly the "solution" is not evident to all. Debate has largely centered on the legitimacy of adopting some middle position: a theory of values that would preserve a clear assessment of the profound evil in the cosmos as well as some understanding of how this might be compatible with the existence of an all powerful, completely good Creator. Could there be reasons why God would permit cosmic ills? If we do not know what those reasons might be, are we in a position to conclude that there are none or that there could not be any? Exploring different possibilities will be shaped by one's metaphysics. For example, if you do not believe there is free will, then you will not be moved by any appeal to the positive value of free will and its role in bringing about good as offsetting its role in bringing about evil.

Theistic responses to the problem of evil distinguish between a defense and a theodicy. A defense seeks to establish that rational belief that God exists is still possible (when the defense is employed against the logical version of the problem of evil) and that the existence of evil does not make it improbable that God exists (when used against the probabilistic version). Some have adopted the defense strategy while arguing that we are in a position to have rational belief in the existence of evil and in a completely good God who hates this evil, even though we may be unable to see how these two beliefs are compatible. A theodicy is more ambitious and is typically part of a broader project, arguing that it is reasonable to believe that God exists on the basis of the good as well as the evident evil of the cosmos. In a theodicy, the project is not to account for each and every evil, but to provide an overarching framework within which to understand at least roughly how the evil that occurs is part of some overall good-for instance, the overcoming of evil is itself a great good. In practice, a defense and a theodicy often appeal to similar factors, the first and foremost being what many call the Greater Good Defense.

5.2.5 Evil and the greater good

In the Greater Good Defense, it is contended that evil can be understood as either a necessary accompaniment to bringing about greater goods or an integral part of these goods. Thus, in a version often called the Free Will Defense, it is proposed that free creatures who are able to care for each other and whose welfare depends on each other's freely chosen action constitute a good. For this good to be realized, it is argued, there must be the bona fide possibility of persons harming each other. The free will defense is sometimes used narrowly only to cover evil that occurs as a result, direct or indirect, of human action. But it has been speculatively extended by those proposing a defense rather than a theodicy to cover other evils which might be brought about by supernatural agents other than God. According to the Greater Good case, evil provides an opportunity to realize great values, such as the virtues of courage and the pursuit of justice. Reichenbach (1982), Tennant (1930), Swinburne (1979), and van Inwagen (2006) have also underscored the good of a stable world of natural laws in which animals and humans learn about the cosmos and develop autonomously, independent of the certainty that God exists. Some atheists accord value to the good of living in a world without God, and these views have been used by theists to back up the claim that God might have had reason to create a cosmos in which Divine existence is not overwhelmingly obvious to us. If God's existence were overwhelmingly obvious, then motivations to virtue might be clouded by self-interest and by the bare fear of offending an omnipotent being. Further, there may even be some good to acting virtuously even if circumstances guarantee a tragic outcome. John Hick (1966 [1977]) so argued and has developed what he construes to be an Irenaean approach to the problem of evil (named after St. Irenaeus of the second century). On this approach, it is deemed good that humanity develops the life of virtue gradually, evolving to a life of grace, maturity, and love. This contrasts with a theodicy associated with St. Augustine, according to which God made us perfect and then allowed us to fall into perdition, only to be redeemed later by Christ. Hick thinks the Augustinian model fails whereas the Irenaean one is credible.

Some have based an argument from the problem of evil on the charge that this is not the best possible world. If there were a supreme, maximally excellent God, surely God would bring about the best possible creation. Because this is not the best possible creation, there is no supreme, maximally excellent God. Following Adams (1987), many now reply that the whole notion of a best possible world, like the highest possible number, is incoherent. For any world that can be imagined with such and such happiness, goodness, virtue and so on, a higher one can be imagined. If the notion of a best possible world is incoherent, would this count against belief that there could be a supreme, maximally excellent being? It has been argued on the contrary that Divine excellences admit of upper limits or maxima that are not quantifiable in a serial fashion (for example, Divine omnipotence involves being able to do anything logically or metaphysically possible, but does not require actually doing the greatest number of acts or a series of acts of which there can be no more).

Those concerned with the problem of evil clash over the question of how one assesses the likelihood of Divine existence. Someone who reports seeing no point to the existence of evil or no justification for God to allow it seems to imply that if there were a point they would see it. Note the difference between seeing no point and not seeing a point. In the cosmic case, is it clear that if there were a reason justifying the existence of evil, we would see it? William Rowe thinks some plausible understanding of God's justificatory reason for allowing the evil should be detectable, but that there are cases of evil that are altogether gratuitous. Defenders like William Hasker (1989) and Stephen Wykstra (1984) reply that these cases are not decisive counter-examples to the claim that there is a good God. These philosophers hold that we can recognize evil and grasp our duty to do all in our power to prevent or alleviate it. But we should not take our failure to see what reason God might have for allowing evil to count as grounds for thinking that there is no reason. This later move has led to a position commonly called skeptical theism. Michael Bergmann, Michael Rea, William Alston and others have argued that we have good reason to be skeptical about whether we can assess whether ostensibly gratuitous evils may or may not be permitted by an all-good God (Bergmann 2012a and 2012b, 2001; Bergmann & Rea 2005; for criticism see Almeida & Oppy 2003; Draper 2014, 2013, 1996). Overall, it needs to be noted that from the alleged fact that we would be unlikely to see a reason for God to allow some evil if there were one, it only follows that our failure to see such a reason is not strong evidence against theism.

For an interesting practical application of the traditional problem of evil to the topic of the ethics of procreation, see Marsh 2015. It has been argued that if one does believe that the world is not good, then that can provide a prima facie reason against procreation. Why should one bring children into a world that is not good? Another interesting, recent development in the philosophy of religion literature has been the engagement of philosophers with ostensible evils that God commands in the Bible (see Bergmann, Murray, & Rea 2010). For a fascinating engagement with the problem of evil that employs Biblical narratives, see Eleonore Stumps' Wandering in Darkness (2010). The treatment of the problem of evil has also extended to important reflection on the suffering of non-human animals (see S. Clark 1987, 1995, 2017; Murray 2008; Meister 2018). Problems raised by evil and suffering are multifarious and are being addressed by contemporary philosophers across the religious and non-religious spectrums. See, for example, The History of Evil edited by Meister and Taliaferro, in six volumes with over 130 contributors from virtually all religious and secular points of view, and the recent The Cambridge Companion to the Problem of Evil edited by Meister and Moser (2017).

Some portraits of an afterlife seem to have little bearing on our response to the magnitude of evil here and now. Does it help to understand why God allows evil if all victims will receive happiness later? But it is difficult to treat the possibility of an afterlife as entirely irrelevant. Is death the annihilation of persons or an event involving a transfiguration to a higher state? If you do not think that it matters whether persons continue to exist after death, then such speculation is of little consequence. But suppose that the afterlife is understood as being morally intertwined with this life, with opportunity for moral and spiritual reformation, transfiguration of the wicked, rejuvenation and occasions for new life, perhaps even reconciliation and communion between oppressors seeking forgiveness and their victims. Then these considerations might help to defend against arguments based on the existence of evil. Insofar as one cannot rule out the possibility of an afterlife morally tied to our life, one cannot rule out the possibility that God brings some good out of cosmic ills. For two recent arguments against a positive theistic appeal to an afterlife, see Sterba 2019 141-156, and Ekstrom 2021;131-155 - compare with Mawson 2016.

The most recent work on the afterlife in philosophy of religion has focused on the compatibility of an individual afterlife with some forms of physicalism. Arguably, a dualist treatment of human persons is more promising. If you are not metaphysically identical with your body, then perhaps the annihilation of your body is not the annihilation of you. Today, a range of philosophers have argued that even if physicalism is true, an afterlife is still possible (Peter van Inwagen, Lynne Baker, Trenton Merricks, Kevin Corcoran). The import of this work for the problem of evil is that the possible redemptive value of an afterlife should not be ruled out (without argument) if one assumes physicalism to be true. (For an extraordinary, rich resource on the relevant literature, see The Oxford Handbook of Eschatology, edited by J. Walls, 2007.)

5.2.6 Religious experience

Perhaps the justification most widely offered for religious belief concerns the occurrence of religious experience or the cumulative weight of testimony of those claiming to have had religious experiences. Putting the latter case in theistic terms, the argument appeals to the fact that many people have testified that they have felt God's presence. Does such testimony provide evidence that God exists? That it is evidence has been argued by Jerome Gellman, Keith Yandell, William Alston, Caroline Davis, Gary Gutting, Kai-Man Kwan, Richard Swinburne, Charles Taliaferro, and others. That it is not (or that its evidential force is trivial) is argued by Michael Martin, J. L. Mackie, Kai Nielson, Matthew Bagger, John Schellenberg, William Rowe, Graham Oppy, and others. In an effort to stimulate further investigation, consider the following sketch of some of the moves and countermoves in the debate.

Objection: Religious experience cannot be experience of God for perceptual experience is only sensory and if God is non-physical, God cannot be sensed.

Reply: The thesis that perceptual experience is only sensory can be challenged. Yandell marks out some experiences (as when one has "a feeling" someone is present but without having any accompanying sensations) that might provide grounds for questioning a narrow sensory notion of perceptual experience.

Objection: Testimony to have experienced God is only testimony that one thinks one has experienced God; it is only testimony of a conviction, not evidence.

Reply: The literature on religious experience testifies to the existence of experience of some Divine being on the basis of which the subject comes to think the experience is of God. If read charitably, the testimony is not testimony to a conviction, but to experiences that form the grounds for the conviction. (See Bagger 1999 for a vigorous articulation of this objection, and note the reply by Kai-man Kwam 2003).

Objection: Because religious experience is unique, how could one ever determine whether it is reliable? We simply lack the ability to examine the object of religious experience in order to test whether the reported experiences are indeed reliable.

Reply: As we learned from Descartes, all our experiences of external objects face a problem of uniqueness. It is possible in principle that all our senses are mistaken and we do not have the public, embodied life we think we lead. We cannot step out of our own subjectivity to vindicate our ordinary perceptual beliefs any more than in the religious case. (See the debate between William Alston [2004] and Evan Fales [2004]).

Objection: Reports of religious experience differ radically and the testimony of one religious party neutralizes the testimony of others. The testimony of Hindus cancels out the testimony of Christians. The testimony of atheists to experience God's absence cancels out the testimony of "believers".

Reply: Several replies might be offered here. Testimony to experience the absence of God might be better understood as testimony not to experience God. Failing to experience God might be justification for believing that there is no God only to the extent that we have reason to believe that if God exists God would be experienced by all. Theists might even appeal to the claim by many atheists that it can be virtuous to live ethically with atheist beliefs. Perhaps if there is a God, God does not think this is altogether bad, and actually desires religious belief to be fashioned under conditions of trust and faith rather than knowledge. The diversity of religious experiences has caused some defenders of the argument from religious experience to mute their conclusion. Thus, Gutting (1982) contends that the argument is not strong enough to fully vindicate a specific religious tradition, but that it is strong enough to overturn an anti-religious naturalism. Other defenders use their specific tradition to deal with ostensibly competing claims based on different sorts of religious experiences. Theists have proposed that more impersonal experiences of the Divine represent only one aspect of God. God is a person or is person-like, but God can also be experienced, for example, as sheer luminous unity. Hindus have claimed the experience of God as personal is only one stage in the overall journey of the soul to truth, the highest truth being that Brahman transcends personhood. (For a discussion of these objections and replies and references, see Taliaferro 1998.)

How one settles the argument will depend on one's overall convictions in many areas of philosophy. The holistic, interwoven nature of both theistic and atheistic arguments can be readily illustrated. If you diminish the implications of religious experience and have a high standard regarding the burden of proof for any sort of religious outlook, then it is highly likely that the classical arguments for God's existence will not be persuasive. Moreover, if one thinks that theism can be shown to be intellectually confused from the start, then theistic arguments from religious experience will carry little weight. Testimony to have experienced God will have no more weight than testimony to have experienced a round square, and non-religious explanations of religious experience-like those of Freud (a result of wish-fulfillment), Marx (a reflection of the economic base), or Durkheim (a product of social forces)-will increase their appeal. If, on the other hand, you think the theistic picture is coherent and that the testimony of religious experience provides some evidence for theism, then your assessment of the classical theistic arguments might be more favorable, for they would serve to corroborate and further support what you already have some reason to believe. From such a vantage point, appeal to wish-fulfillment, economics, and social forces might have a role, but the role is to explain why some parties do not have experiences of God and to counter the charge that failure to have such experiences provides evidence that there is no religious reality. (For an excellent collection of recent work on explaining the emergence and continuation of religious experience, see Schloss & Murray (eds.) 2009.)

There is not space to cover the many other arguments for and against the existence of God, but several additional arguments are briefly noted. The argument from miracles starts from specific extraordinary events, arguing that they provide reasons for believing there to be a supernatural agent or, more modestly, reasons for skepticism about the sufficiency of a naturalistic world view. The argument has attracted much philosophical attention, especially since David Hume's rejection of miracles. The debate has turned mainly on how one defines a miracle, understands the laws of nature, and specifies the principles of evidence that govern the explanation of highly unusual historical occurrences. There is considerable debate over whether Hume's case against miracles simply begs the question against "believers". Detailed exposition is impossible in this short entry. Taliaferro has argued elsewhere that Hume's case against the rationality of belief in miracles is best seen as part of his overall case for a form of naturalism (Taliaferro 2005b).

There are various arguments that are advanced to motivate religious belief. One of the most interesting and popular is a wager argument often associated with Pascal (1623-1662). It is designed to offer practical reasons to cultivate a belief in God. Imagine that you are unsure whether there is or is not a God. You have it within your power to live on either assumption and perhaps, through various practices, to get yourself to believe one or the other. There would be good consequences of believing in God even if your belief were false, and if the belief were true you would receive even greater good. There would also be good consequences of believing that there is no God, but in this case the consequences would not alter if you were correct. If, however, you believe that there is no God and you are wrong, then you would risk losing the many goods which follow from the belief that God exists and from actual Divine existence. On this basis, it may seem reasonable to believe there is a God.

In different forms the argument may be given a rough edge (for example, imagine that if you do not believe in God and there is a God, hell is waiting). It may be put as an appeal to individual self-interest (you will be better off) or more generally (believers whose lives are bound together can realize some of the goods comprising a mature religious life). Objectors worry about whether one ever is able to bring choices down to just such a narrow selection-for example, to choose either theism or naturalism. Some think the argument is too thoroughly egotistic and thus offensive to religion. Many of these objections have generated some plausible replies (Rescher 1985). (For a thoroughgoing exploration of the relevant arguments, see the collection of essays edited by Jeffrey Jordan (1994).)

Recent work on Pascalian wagering has a bearing on work on the nature of faith (is it voluntary or involuntary?), its value (when, if ever, is it a virtue?), and relation to evidence (insofar as faith involves belief, is it possible to have faith without evidence?). For an overview and promising analysis, see Chappell (1996), Swinburne (1979), Schellenberg (2005), and Rota (2016). A promising feature of such new work is that it is often accompanied by a rich understanding of revelation that is not limited to a sacred scripture, but sees a revelatory role in scripture plus the history of its interpretation, the use of creeds, icons, and so on (see the work of William Abraham [1998]).

A burgeoning question in recent years is whether the cognitive science of religion (CSR) has significance for the truth or rationality of religious commitment. According to CSR, belief in supernatural agents appears to be cognitively natural (Barrett 2004, Kelemen 2004, Dennett 2006, De Cruz, H., & De Smedt, J. 2010) and easy to spread (Boyer 2001). The naturalness of religion thesis has led some, including Alvin Plantinga it seems (2011: 60), to imply that we have scientific evidence for Calvin's sensus divinitatis. But others have argued that CSR can intensify the problem of divine hiddenness, since diverse religious concepts are cognitively natural and early humans seem to have lacked anything like a theistic concept (Marsh 2013). There are many other questions being investigated about CSR, such as whether it provides a debunking challenge to religion (Murray & Schloss 2009), whether it poses a cultural challenge for religious outlooks like Schellenberg's Ultimism (Marsh 2014), and whether it challenges human dignity (Audi 2013). Needless to say, at the present time, there is nothing like a clear consensus on whether CSR should be seen as worrisome, welcome, or neither, by religious believers.

For some further work on the framework of assessing the evidence for and against theism (and other religious and secular worldviews) see C. S. Evans 2010, Chandler and Harrison 2012. In the last twenty years there has been increasing attention given to the aesthetic dimension of arguments for and against religiously significant conceptions of ultimate reality and of the meaning of life (see Brown 2004; Wynn 2013; Hedley 2016; Mawson 2016; Taliaferro & Evans 2010, 2013, 2021).

For its breadth and nuanced use of philosophy and aesthetics, see Anthony O'Hear's 2020 work Transcendence, Creation and Incarnation.

6. Religious Pluralism

In the midst of the new work on religious traditions, there has been a steady, growing representation of non-monotheistic traditions. An early proponent of this expanded format was Ninian Smart (1927-2001), who, through many publications, scholarly as well as popular, secured philosophies of Hinduism and Buddhism as components in the standard canon of English-speaking philosophy of religion.

Smart championed the thesis that there are genuine differences between religious traditions. He therefore resisted seeing some core experience as capturing the essential identity of being religious. Under Smart's tutelage, there has been considerable growth in cross-cultural philosophy of religion. Wilfred Cantwell Smith (1916-2000) also did a great deal to improve the representation of non-Western religions and reflection. See, for example, the Routledge series Investigating Philosophy of Religion with Routledge with volumes already published or forthcoming on Buddhism (Burton 2017), Hinduism (Ranganathan 2018), Daoism, and Confucianism. The five volume Encyclopedia of Philosophy of Religion (mentioned earlier) to be published by Wiley Blackwell (projected for 2021) will have ample contributions on the widest spectrum of philosophical treatments of diverse religions to date.

The explanation of philosophy of religion has involved fresh translations of philosophical and religious texts from India, China, Southeast Asia, and Africa. Exceptional figures from non-Western traditions have an increased role in cross-cultural philosophy of religion and religious dialogue. The late Bimal Krishna Matilal (1935-1991) made salient contributions to enrich Western exposure to Indian philosophy of religion (see Matilal 1882). Among the mid-twentieth-century Asian philosophers, two who stand out for special note are T.R.V. Murti (1955) and S.N. Dasgupta (1922-1955). Both brought high philosophical standards along with the essential philology to educate Western thinkers. As evidence of non-Western productivity in the Anglophone world, see Arvind Sharma 1990 and 1995. There are now extensive treatments of pantheism and student-friendly guides to diverse religious conceptions of the cosmos.

The expanded interest in religious pluralism has led to extensive reflection on the compatibility and possible synthesis of religions. John Hick is the preeminent synthesizer of religious traditions. Hick (1973 a and b)) advanced a complex picture of the afterlife involving components from diverse traditions. Over many publications and many years, Hick has moved from a broadly based theistic view of God to what Hick calls "the Real", a noumenal sacred reality. Hick claims that different religions provide us with a glimpse or partial access to the Real. In an influential article, "The New Map of the Universe of Faiths" (1973a), Hick raised the possibility that many of the great world religions are revelatory of the Real.

Seen in [an] historical context these movements of faith-the Judaic-Christian, the Buddhist, the Hindu, the Muslim-are not essentially rivals. They began at different times and in different places, and each expanded outwards into the surrounding world of primitive natural religion until most of the world was drawn up into one or the other of the great revealed faiths. And once this global pattern had become established it has ever since remained fairly stable... Then in Persia the great prophet Zoroaster appeared; China produced Lao-tzu and then the Buddha lived, the Mahavira, the founder of the Jain religion and, probably about the end of this period, the writing of the Bhagavad Gita; and Greece produced Pythagoras and then, ending this golden age, Socrates and Plato. Then after the gap of some three hundred years came Jesus of Nazareth and the emergence of Christianity; and after another gap the prophet Mohammed and the rise of Islam. The suggestion that we must consider is that these were all movements of the divine revelation. (Hick 1989: 136; emphasis added)

Hick sees these traditions, and others as well, as different meeting points in which a person might be in relation to the same reality or the Real:

The great world faiths embody different perceptions and conceptions of, and correspondingly different responses to, the Real from within the major variant ways of being human; and that within each of them the transformation of human existence from self-centeredness to Reality-centeredness is taking place. (1989: 240)

Hick uses Kant to develop his central thesis.

Kant distinguishes between noumenon and phenomenon, or between a Ding an sich [the thing itself] and the thing as it appears to human consciousness.... In this strand of Kant's thought-not the only strand, but the one which I am seeking to press into service in the epistemology of religion-the noumenal world exists independently of our perception of it and the phenomenal world is that same world as it appears to our human consciousness.... I want to say that the noumenal Real is experienced and thought by different human mentalities, forming and formed by different religious traditions, as the range of gods and absolutes which the phenomenology of religion reports. (1989: 241-242)

One advantage of Hick's position is that it undermines a rationale for religious conflict. If successful, this approach would offer a way to accommodate diverse communities and undermine what has been a source of grave conflict in the past.

Hick's work since the early 1980s provided an impetus for not taking what appears to be religious conflict as outright contradictions. He advanced a philosophy of religion that paid careful attention to the historical and social context. By doing so, Hick thought that apparently conflicting descriptions of the sacred could be reconciled as representing different perspectives on the same reality, the Real (see Hick 2004, 2006).

The response to Hick's proposal has been mixed. Some contend that the very concept of "the Real" is incoherent or not religiously adequate. Indeed, articulating the nature of the Real is no easy task. Hick writes that the Real

cannot be said to be one thing or many, person or thing, substance or process, good or bad, purposive or non-purposive. None of the concrete descriptions that apply within the realm of human experience can apply literally to the unexperienceable ground of that realm.... We cannot even speak of this as a thing or an entity. (1989: 246).

It has been argued that Hick has secured not the equal acceptability of diverse religions but rather their unacceptability. In their classical forms, Judaism, Islam, and Christianity diverge. If, say, the Incarnation of God in Christ did not occur, isn't Christianity false? In reply, Hick has sought to interpret specific claims about the Incarnation in ways that do not commit Christians to the "literal truth" of God becoming enfleshed. The "truth" of the Incarnation has been interpreted in such terms as these: in Jesus Christ (or in the narratives about Christ) God is disclosed. Or: Jesus Christ was so united with God's will that his actions were and are the functional display of God's character. Perhaps as a result of Hick's challenge, philosophical work on the incarnation and other beliefs and practice specific to religious traditions have received renewed attention (see, for example, Taliaferro and Meister 2009). Hick has been a leading, widely appreciated force in the expansion of philosophy of religion in the late twentieth century.

In addition to the expansion of philosophy of religion to take into account a wider set of religions, the field has also seen an expansion in terms of methodology. Philosophers of religion have re-discovered medieval philosophy-the new translations and commentaries of medieval Christian, Jewish, and Islamic texts have blossomed. There is now a self-conscious, deliberate effort to combine work on the concepts in religious belief alongside a critical understanding of their social and political roots (the work of Foucault has been influential on this point), feminist philosophy of religion has been especially important in re-thinking what may be called the ethics of methodology and, as this is in some respects the most current debate in the field, it is a fitting point to end this entry by highlighting the work of Pamela Sue Anderson (1955-2017) and others.

Anderson (1997 and 2012) seeks to question respects in which gender enters into traditional conceptions of God and in their moral and political repercussions. She also advances a concept of method which delimits justice and human flourishing. A mark of legitimation of philosophy should be the extent to which it contributes to human welfare. In a sense, this is a venerable thesis in some ancient, specifically Platonic philosophy that envisaged the goal and method of philosophy in terms of virtue and the good. Feminist philosophy today is not exclusively a critical undertaking, critiquing "patriarchy". For a constructive, subtle treatment of religious contemplation and practice, see Coakley 2002. Another key movement that is developing has come to be called Continental Philosophy of Religion. A major advocate of this new turn is John Caputo. This movement approaches the themes of this entry (the concept of God, pluralism, religious experience, metaphysics and epistemology) in light of Heidegger, Derrida, and other continental philosophers. (For a good representation of this movement, see Caputo 2001 and Crocket, Putt, & Robins 2014.)

Bibliography

Abraham, William J., 1998, Canon and Criterion in Christian Theology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199250030.001.0001

Abraham, William J. and Frederick D. Aquino (eds.), 2017, The Oxford Handbook of the Epistemology of Theology, (Oxford Handbooks in Religion and Theology), Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199662241.001.0001

Adams, Marilyn McCord, 1999, Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Adams, Robert Merrihew, 1987, The Virtue of Faith and Other Essays in Philosophical Theology, New York : Oxford University Press.

Almeida, Michael J. and Graham Oppy, 2003, "Sceptical Theism and Evidential Arguments from Evil", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 81(4): 496-516. doi:10.1080/713659758

Alston, William P., 2004, "Religious Experience Justifies Religious Belief" in Peterson and VanArragon 2004: 135-145.

---, 1991a, Perceiving God: The Epistemology of Religious Experience, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 1991b, "The Inductive Argument From Evil and the Human Cognitive Condition", Philosophical Perspectives, 5: 29-68. doi:10.2307/2214090

Anderson, Pamela Sue, 1997, A Feminist Philosophy of Religion: The Rationality and Myths of Religious Belief, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2005, "What's Wrong with the God's Eye Point of View: A Constructive Feminist Critique of the Ideal Observer Theory", in Harris and Insole 2005: 85-99.

---, 2012, Re-visioning Gender in Philosophy of Religion: Reason, Love, and Our Epistemic Locatedness, Burlington: Ashgate.

Armstrong, Karen, 2009, The Case for God, New York: Anchor Books.

Audi, Robert, 2011, Rationality and Religious Commitment, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199609574.001.0001

---, 2013, "The Scientific Study of Religion and the Pillars of Human Dignity", Monist, 96(3): 462-479. doi:10.5840/monist201396321

--- (ed.), 2015, "Religious epistemology", in The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy, third edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 925.

Augustine of Hippo, c. 413-427 CE, The City of God (De Civitate Dei; quoted from the Henry Bettenson translation, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972.

Ayer, A.J., 1936, Language, Truth and Logic, London: Victor Gollancz

---, 1973, The Central Questions of Philosophy, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Bagger, Matthew C., 1999, Religious Experience, Justification, and History, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511487637

Barrett, Justin 2004, Why Would Anyone Believe in God?, Lanham, MD: Altamira Press.

Beaty, Michael (ed.), 1990, Christian Theism and the Problems of Philosophy, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.

Beaty, Michael and Charles Taliaferro, 1990, "God and Concept Empiricism", Southwest Philosophy Review, 6(2): 97-105. doi:10.5840/swphilreview19906222

Beilby, James (ed.), 2002, Naturalism Defeated? Essays on Plantinga's Evolutionary Argument Against Naturalism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Bergmann, Gustav, 1954 [1967], The Metaphysics of Logical Positivism, Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Second edition, 1967.

Bergmann, Michael, 2001, "Skeptical Theism and Rowe's New Evidential Argument from Evil", Noûs, 35(2): 278-296. doi:10.1111/0029-4624.00297

---, 2012a, "Commonsense Skeptical Theism", in Reason, Metaphysics, and Mind: New Essays on the Philosophy of Alvin Plantinga, Kelly James Clark and Michael Rea (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 9-30. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199766864.003.0002

---, 2012b, "Rational Religious Belief without Arguments", in Philosophy of Religion: An Anthology, Louis Pojman and Michael Rea (eds.), Boston: Wadsworth Publishing, pp. 534-49.

---, 2015, "Religious Disagreement and Rational Demotion", in Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Religion, Jonathan Kvanvig (ed.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, volume 6, 21-57. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198722335.003.0002

---, 2017, "Foundationalism", in Abraham and Aquino 2017. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199662241.013.8

Bergmann, Michael and Patrick Kain (eds.), 2014, Challenges to Moral and Religious Belief: Disagreement and Evolution, Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199669776.001.0001

Bergmann, Michael and Michael Rea, 2005, "In Defence of Sceptical Theism: A Reply to Almeida and Oppy", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 83(2): 241-251. doi:10.1080/00048400500111147

Bergmann, Michael, Michael J. Murray, and Michael C. Rea (eds.), 2010, Divine Evil? The Moral Character of the God of Abraham, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199576739.001.0001

Boyer, Pascal, 2001, Religion Explained: The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought, New York: Basic Books.

Brody, Baruch, 1974, "Morality and Religion Reconsidered in Readings in Philosophy of Religion: An Analytical Approach", B. Brody (ed.), Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 592-603.

Brower, Jeffrey E., 2008, "Making Sense of Divine Simplicity", Faith and Philosophy, 25(1): 3-30. doi:10.5840/faithphil20082511

---, 2009, "Simplicity and Aseity", in The Oxford Handbook of Philosophical Theology, Thomas P. Flint and Michael C. Rea (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199596539.013.0006

Brown, David, 1987, Continental Philosophy and Modern Theology, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2004, God and Enchantment of Place: Reclaiming Human Experience, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199271984.001.0001

---, 2016, God in a Single Vision: Integrating Philosophy and Theology, Christopher R. Brewer and Robert MacSwain (eds.), London: Routledge.

Bruntrup, Godehard and Ludwig Jaskolla (eds.), 2016, Panpsychism: Contemporary Perspectives, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199359943.001.0001

Buckareff, Andrei and Yujin Nagasawa (eds.), 2016, Alternative Concepts of God: Essays on the Metaphysics of the Divine, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198722250.001.0001

Burton, David, 2017, Buddhism: A Contemporary Philosophical Investigation, (Investigating Philosophy of Religion), London: Routledge.

Cain, Clifford Chalmers, 2015, "Cosmic Origins and Genesis: A Religious Response", in Re-Vision: A New Look at the Relationship between Science and Religion, Clifford Chalmers Cain (ed.), Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 35-44.

Caputo, John D., 2001, The Religious, (Blackwell Readings in Continental Philosophy), Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.

Chandler, Jake and Victoria S. Harrison (eds.), 2012, Probability in the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199604760.001.0001

Chappell, Tim, 1996, "Why Is Faith a Virtue?", Religious Studies, 32(1): 27-36. doi:10.1017/S0034412500024045

Clack, Beverley and Brian R. Clack, 1998 [2008], The Philosophy of Religion: A Critical Introduction, Malden, MA: Polity Press. Revised and fully expanded second edition, 2008.

Clark, Kelly James, 2014, Religion and the Sciences of Origins, New York: Palgrave Macmillan US. doi:10.1057/9781137414816

Clark, Kelly James and Raymond J. VanArragon (eds.), 2011, Evidence and Religious Belief, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199603718.001.0001

Clark, Stephen R. L., 1987, "Animals, Ecosystems and the Liberal Ethic", Monist, 70(1): 114-133. doi:10.5840/monist19877016

---, 1995, "Ecology and the Transformation of Nature", Theology in Green, 3: 28-46.

---, 2017, "Animals in Religion", Oxford Handbook of Animal Studies, Linda Kalof (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press, 571-589. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199927142.013.19

Clayton, John, 2006, Religions, Reasons and Gods: Essays in Cross-Cultural Philosophy of Religion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511488399

Coakley, Sarah, 2002, Powers and Submissions: Spirituality, Philosophy, and Gender, (Challenges in Contemporary Theology), Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers.

Collins, James, 1967, The Emergence of Philosophy of Religion, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Collins, Robin, 2009, "The Teleological Argument: An explanation of the fine-tuning of the universe", in The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, W.L. Craig and J.P. Morelanad (eds.), Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, 202-281.

Copleston, Frederick C., 1960, Contemporary Philosophy: Studies of Logical Positivism and Existentialism, London: Burns & Oates.

Cottingham, John, 2014, Philosophy of Religion: Towards a More Humane Approach, New York: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9781139094627

Craig, William Lane, 1979, The Kalām Cosmological Argument, New York: Barnes and Noble.

---, 1980, The Cosmological Argument from Plato to Leibniz, New York: Barnes and Noble.

Craig, William Lane and J. P. Moreland (eds.), 2009, The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. doi:10.1002/9781444308334

Craig, William Lane and Quentin Smith, 1993, Theism, Atheism, and Big Bang Cosmology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198263838.001.0001

Creel, Richard E., 1995, Divine Impassibility: An Essay in Philosophical Theology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Crockett, Clayton, B. Keith Putt, and Jeffrey W. Robbins (eds.), 2014, The Future of Continental Philosophy of Religion (Indiana Series in the Philosophy of Religion), Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

Dasgupta, Surendranath, 1922-1955, A History of Indian Philosophy, 5 vols., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Davies, Brian, 1993, An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2006, The Reality of God and the Problem of Evil, London: Continuum.

Davis, Caroline Franks, 1989, The Evidential Force of Religious Experience, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198250012.001.0001

De Cruz, Helen and Johan De Smedt, 2010, "Paley's iPod: The Cognitive Basis of the Design Argument within Natural Theology", Zygon, 45(3): 665-684. doi:10.1111/j.1467-9744.2010.01120.x

Dennett, Daniel C., 2006, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon, New York: Viking.

Diller, Jeanine and Asa Kasher (eds.), 2013, Models of God and Alternative Ultimate Realities, Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands. doi:10.1007/978-94-007-5219-1

Dombrowski, Daniel A., 2006, Rethinking the Ontological Argument: A Neoclassical Theistic Response, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511498916

Dore, Clement, 1984, Theism, Dordrecht: D. Reidel. doi:10.1007/978-94-009-6300-9

Draper, Paul, 1996, "The Skeptical Theist", in Howard-Snyder 1996: 175-192.

---, 2013, "The Limitations of Pure Skeptical Theism", Res Philosophica, 90(1): 97-111. doi:10.11612/resphil.2013.90.1.6

---, 2014, "Confirmation Theory and the Core of CORNEA", in Skeptical Theism: New Essays, Trent Dougherty and Justin P. McBrayer (eds.), Oxford University Press, 132-141. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199661183.003.0010

Draper, Paul and J. L. Schellenberg (eds.), 2017, Renewing Philosophy of Religion: Exploratory Essays, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198738909.001.0001

Dworkin, Ronald, 2013, Religion without God, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Earman, John, 2000, Hume's Abject Failure: The Argument against Miracles, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195127382.001.0001

Einstein, Albert, 1954, Ideas and Opinions, New York: Crown Publishers; reprinted London: Souvenir Press, 1973.

Ekstrom, Laura, 2021, God, Suffering, and the Value of Free Will, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ellis, Fiona, 2014, God, Values, and Nature, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198714125.001.0001

---, 2018, New Models of Religious Understanding, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198796732.001.0001

Evans, C. Stephen, 1982, Philosophy of Religion: Thinking About Faith, first edition, Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

---, 1996, The Historical Christ and the Jesus of Faith: The Incarnational Narrative as History, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/019826397X.001.0001

---, 2010, Natural Signs and Knowledge of God: A New Look at Theistic Arguments, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199217168.001.0001

---, 2013, God and Moral Obligation, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199696680.001.0001

Evans, C. Stephen and R. Zachary Manis, 2006, Philosophy of Religion: Thinking about Faith, second edition, Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Everitt, Nicholas, 2004, The Non-Existence of God, London: Routledge.

Fales, Evan, 2004, "Do Mystics See God?" in Peterson and VanArragon 2004: 145-148.

Firestone, Cris and Nathan Jacobs (eds.), 2012, The Persistence of the Sacred in Modern Thought, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.

Firth, Roderick, 1952 [1970], "Ethical Absolutism and the Ideal Observer", Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 12(3): 317-345; reprinted in Readings in Ethical Theory, Wilfrid Sellars and John Hospers (eds.), Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1970: 200-221. doi:10.2307/2103988

Flew, Anthony G., 1955, "Theology and Falsification", in Flew & MacIntyre 1955: 96-130; originally published 1950 in the first volume of a short lived student journal, University, at Oxford University; reprinted in Mitchell 1971: 1-2.

---, 1984, God, Freedom and Immortality, Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books.

---, 2007, There Is a God: How the World's Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind, Roy Abraham Varghese (ed.), New York: HarperOne.

Flew, Antony and Alasdair C. MacIntyre (eds.), 1955, New Essays in Philosophical Theology, London: SCM Press.

Forrest, Peter, 1996, God without the Supernatural: A Defense of Scientific Theism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Foster, John, 1985, Ayer, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

---, 2004, The Divine Lawmaker: Lectures on Induction, Laws of Nature, and the Existence of God, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199250596.001.0001

Geivett, R. Douglas and Brendan Sweetman (eds.), 1992, Contemporary Perspectives on Religious Epistemology, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Gellman, Jerome, 1997, Experience of God and the Rationality of Theistic Belief, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2001, Mystical Experience of God: A Philosophical Inquiry, London: Ashgate.

Goetz, Stewart, 2008, Freedom, Teleology, and Evil, London: Continuum.

Goetz, Stewart and Charles Taliaferro, 2008, Naturalism, (Interventions), Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.

Gendler, Tamar and John Hawthorne (eds.), 2002, Conceivability and Possibility, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Griffiths, Paul J., 1994, On Being Buddha: The Classical Doctrine of Buddhahood, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Gutting, Gary, 1982, Religious Belief and Religious Skepticism, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.

Hare, John E., 1996, The Moral Gap: Kantian Ethics, Human Limits, and God's Assistance, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198269571.001.0001

---, 2015, God's Command, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199602018.001.0001

Harris, Harriet A. and Christopher J. Insole (eds.), 2005, Faith and Philosophical Analysis: The Impact of Analytical Philosophy on the Philosophy of Religion, (Heythrop Studies in Contemporary Philosophy, Religion and Theology), Aldershot, England: Ashgate.

Harrison, Victoria S., 2006, "Internal Realism and the Problem of Religious Diversity", Philosophia, 34(3): 287-301. doi:10.1007/s11406-006-9029-5

---, 2012, Eastern Philosophy: The Basics, London and New York: Routledge.

---, 2015, "Religious Pluralism", in The Routledge Handbook of Contemporary Philosophy of Religion, Graham Oppy (ed.), London and New York: Routledge, 257-269.

---, 2022. Eastern Philosophy of Religion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hasker, William, 1989, God, Time, and Knowledge, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 1999, The Emergent Self, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Hedley, Douglas, 2016, The Iconic Imagination, London: Bloomsbury.

Helm, Paul, 1988, Eternal God: A Study of God without Time, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0198237251.001.0001

---, 2000, Faith with Reason, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199256631.001.0001

Hempel, Carl G., 1950 [1959], "Problems and Changes in the Empiricist Criterion of Meaning", Revue Internationale de Philosophie, 4(11): 41-63; reprinted as "The Empiricist Criterion of Meaning" inLogical Positivism, A.J. Ayer (ed.), Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1959: 108-132.

Hepburn, Ronald W., 1963, "From World to God", Mind, 72(285): 40-50. doi:10.1093/mind/LXXII.285.40

Hick, John, 1963 [1990], Philosophy of Religion, fourth edition, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

--- (ed.), 1964 [1970], Classical and Contemporary Readings in the Philosophy of Religion, second edition, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

---, 1966 [1977], Evil and the God of Love, London: Macmillan. Second edition, 1977.

---, 1971, "Rational Theistic Belief without Proofs", in his Arguments for the Existence of God, New York: Herder and Herder.

---, 1973a, "The New Map of the Universe of Faiths", in Hick 1973b [1988: 133-147]. doi:10.1007/978-1-349-19049-2_10

---, 1973b [1988], God and the Universe of Faiths: Essays in the Philosophy of Religion, London: Macmillan; reprinted 1988.

---, 1989, An Interpretation of Religion: Human Responses to the Transcendent, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

---, 2004, The Fifth Dimension: An Exploration of the Spiritual Realm, Oxford: Oneworld Publications.

---, 2006, The New Frontier of Religion and Science: Religious Experience, Neuroscience, and The Transcendent, New York: Palgrave.

Hick, John and Arthur C. McGill (eds.), 1967, The Many-Faced Argument: Recent Studies on the Ontological Argument for the Existence of God, New York: Macmillan.

Hill, Daniel J., 2005, Divinity and Maximal Greatness, London: Routledge.

Howard-Snyder, Daniel (ed.), 1996, The Evidential Argument from Evil, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

Howard-Snyder, Daniel and Paul Moser (eds.), 2001, Divine Hiddenness: New Essays, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511606090

Hughes, Christopher, 1989, On a Complex Theory of a Simple God: An Investigation in Aquinas' Philosophical Theology, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Hughes, Gerard J., 1995, The Nature of God, London: Routledge.

Jantzen, Grace M., 1994, "Feminists, Philosophers, and Mystics", Hypatia, 9(4): 186-206. doi:10.1111/j.1527-2001.1994.tb00655.x

Jordan, Jeff (ed.), 1994, Gambling on God: Essays on Pascal's Wager, Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

Kelemen, Deborah, 2004, "Are Children 'Intuitive Theists'? Reasoning About Purpose and Design in Nature", Psychological Science, 15(5): 295-301. doi:10.1111/j.0956-7976.2004.00672.x

Kenny, Anthony, 1979, The God of the Philosophers, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Kerr, Fergus, 1986, Theology after Wittgenstein, Oxford: Blackwell.

King, Nathan L. and Thomas Kelly, 2017, "Disagreement and the Epistemology of Theology", in Abraham and Aquino 2017. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199662241.013.4

Kitcher, Philip, 2014, Life after Faith: The Case for Secular Humanism, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Kraay, Klaas J. (ed.), 2015, God and the Multiverse: Scientific, Philosophical, and Theological Perspectives, (Routledge Studies in the Philosophy of Religion 10), New York: Routledge/Taylor & Francis Group.

Kvanvig, Jonathan L., 1986, The Possibility of an All-Knowing God, London: Macmillan.

Kwan, Kai-man, 2003, "Is the Critical Trust Approach to Religious Experience Incompatible with Religious Particularism?: A Reply to Michael Martin and John Hick", Faith and Philosophy, 20(2): 152-169. doi:10.5840/faithphil200320229

---, 2013, Rainbow of Experience, Critical Trust, and God, London: Continuum.

Leftow, Brian, 1991, Time and Eternity, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2022, Anselm's Argument; Divine Necessity, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Leslie, John, 1989, Universes, London: Routledge.

---, 2007, Immortality Defended, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

Lund, David H., 2005, The Conscious Self: The Immaterial Center of Subjective States, Amherst, NY: Humanity Books.

Lycan, William, 2019, On Evidence in Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

MacDonald, Scott Charles (ed.), 1991, Being and Goodness: The Concept of the Good in Metaphysics and Philosophical Theology, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Mackie, J.L., 1983, The Miracle of Theism: Arguments for and Against the Existence of God, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

MacSwain, Robert, 2013, Solved by Sacrifice: Austin Farrer, Fideism, and the Evidence of Faith, (Studies in Philosophical Theology, 51), Leuven: Peeters.

Malcolm, Norman, 1977, "The Groundlessness of Religious Beliefs", in Reason and Religion, Stuart C. Brown (ed.), Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Manson, Neil, 2003, God and Design: The teleological argument and modern science, London: Routledge.

Marsh, Jason, 2013, "Darwin and the Problem of Natural Nonbelief", Monist, 96(3): 349-376. doi:10.5840/monist201396316

---, 2014, "Assessing the Third Way", in The Roots of Religion: Exploring the Cognitive Science of Religion, Roger Trigg and Justin Barrett (eds.), Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 127-148.

---, 2015, "Procreative Ethics and the Problem of Evil", in Permissible Progeny? The Morality of Procreation and Parenting, Sarah Hannan, Samantha Brennan, and Richard Vernon (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, 65-86. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199378111.003.0003

Martin, Michael, 1990, Atheism: A Philosophical Analysis, Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press.

Mawson, T.J., 2016, God and the Meanings of Life: What God Could and Couldn't Do to Make Our Lives More Meaningful, London: Bloomsbury Academic.

McKim, Robert, 2018, "Why Religious Pluralism is Not Evil and is in Some Respects Quite Good" in The History of Evil from the Mid-Twentieth Century to Today, (The History of Evil, 6), Jerome Gellman (ed.), London: Routledge, chapter 12.

Meister, Chad (ed.), 2010, The Oxford Handbook of Religious Diversity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780195340136.001.0001

---, 2018, Evil: A Guide for the Perplexed, second edition, London: Bloomsbury.

Meister, Chad and Paul Moser (eds.), 2017, The Cambridge Companion to the Problem of Evil, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/9781107295278

Meister, Chad and Charles Taliaferro (series editors), 2018, History of Evil, London: Routledge, 6 volumes

Angier, Tom P.S. (ed.), The History of Evil in Antiquity: 2000 BCE - 450 CE, (History of Evil, 1)

Murray, Michael, 2008, Nature Red in tooth and claw, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Pinsent, Andrew (ed.), The History of Evil in the Medieval Age: 450-1450 CE, (History of Evil, 2)

Robinson, Daniel (ed.), The History of Evil in the Early Modern Age: 1450-1700 CE, (History of Evil, 3)

Hedley, Douglas (ed.), The History of Evil in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries: 1700-1900 CE, (History of Evil, 4)

Harrison, Victoria S. (ed.), The History of Evil in the Early Twentieth Century: 1900-1950 CE, (History of Evil, 5)

Gellman, Jerome (ed.), The History of Evil from the Mid-Twentieth Century to Today: 1950-2018, (History of Evil, 6)

Menssen, Sandra and Thomas Sullivan, 2007, The Agnostic Inquirer: Revelation form a Philosophical Perspective, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

---, 2017, "Revelation and Scripture", in Abraham and Aquino 2017. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199662241.013.22

Matilal, B. K., 1982, Logical and Ethical Issues of Religious Belief, Calcutta: University of Calcutta Press.

Menuge, Angus J.L., 2004, Agents under Fire: Materialism and the Rationality of Science, Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield.

Meynell, Hugo A., 1982, The Intelligible Universe: A Cosmological Argument, London: Macmillan.

Mitchell, Basil (ed.), 1971, The Philosophy of Religion, (Oxford Readings in Philosophy), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1973, The Justification of Religious Belief, London: Macmillan.

---, 1994, Faith and Criticism, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198267584.001.0001

Moreland, James Porter, 2008, Consciousness and the Existence of God: A Theistic Argument, (Routledge Studies in the Philosophy of Religion, 4), London: Routledge.

Morris, Thomas V., 1986, The Logic of God Incarnate, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 1987a, Anselmian Explorations: Essays in Philosophical Theology, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.

--- (ed.), 1987b, The Concept of God, (Oxford Readings in Philosophy), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 1991, Our Idea of God: An Introduction to Philosophical Theology, Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Moser, Paul K., 2008, The Elusive God: Reorienting Religious Epistemology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511499012

---, 2010, The Evidence for God: Religious Knowledge Reexamined, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511817731

---, 2017, The God Relationship: The Ethics for Inquiry about the Divine, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/9781108164009

Murphy, Mark C., 2017, God's Own Ethics: Norms of Divine Agency and the Argument from Evil, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198796916.001.0001

Murray, Michael J., 2008, Nature Red in Tooth and Claw: Theism and the Problem of Animal Suffering, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199237272.001.0001

Murti, T.R.V., 1955, Central Philosophy of Buddhism: A Study of the Mādhyamika System, London: George Allen and Unwin.

Nagasawa, Yujin, 2017, Maximal God: A New Defence of Perfect Being Theism, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198758686.001.0001

[NASIM] National Academy of Sciences and Institute of Medicine, 2008, Science, Evolution, and Creationism, third edition, Washington, DC: National Academies Press. doi:10.17226/11876 [NASIM 2008 quote in this entry is also available online at the National Academy of Sciences]

Nielsen, Kai, 1996, Naturalism Without Foundations, Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Press.

O'Connor, Timothy, 2008, Theism and Ultimate Explanation: The Necessary Shape of Contingency, Oxford: Blackwell. doi:10.1002/9781444345490

O'Hear, Anthony, 2020, Transcendence, Creation, and Incarnation, London: Routledge.

Oppy, Graham, 1995, Ontological Arguments and Belief in God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511663840

---, 2006, Arguing About Gods, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511498978

---, 2018, Naturalism and Religion; A Contemporary Philosophical Investigation, (Investigating Philosophy of Religion), London: Routledge.

Oppy, Graham Robert and Nick Trakakis (eds.), 2009, The History of Western Philosophy of Religion, 5 volumes, New York: Oxford University Press.

Padgett, Alan G., 1992, God, Eternity and the Nature of Time, New York: St. Martin's Press.

Penelhum, Terence, 1983, God and Skepticism: A Study in Skepticism and Fideism, Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands. doi:10.1007/978-94-009-7083-0

---, 1989, Faith, New York: Macmillan.

Peterson, Michael L., William Hasker, Bruce Reichenbach, and David Basinger (eds.), 1991, Reason and Religious Belief: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, first edition, New York: Oxford University Press. Fifth edition, 2012.

--- (eds.), 1996, Philosophy of Religion: Selected Readings, first edition, New York: Oxford University Press. Fifth edition, 2014.

Peterson, Michael L. and Raymond J. VanArragon (eds.), 2004, Contemporary Debates in Philosophy of Religion, (Contemporary Debates in Philosophy), Malden, MA: Blackwell.

Philipse, Herman, 2012, God in the Age of Science? A Critique of Religious Reason, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199697533.001.0001

Phillips, D.Z., 1966, the Concept of Prayer, New York: Schocken Books.

---, 1976, Religion Without Explanation, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2001. "Theism Without Theodicy," in S. Davis (ed.), Encountering Evil: Live Options in Theodicy, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press.

---, 2004, The Problem of Evil and the Problem of God, London: SCM Press.

---, 1970, Faith and Philosophical Inquiry, London: Routledge.

Pike, Nelson, 1970 [2002], God and Timelessness, New York: Schocken Books; reprinted Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2002.

Pinker, Steven, 2013, "Science Is Not Your Enemy", The New Republic, August 7. URL = <https://newrepublic.com/article/114127/science-not-enemy-humanities>

Plantinga, Alvin, 1967, God and Other Minds: A Study of the Rational Justification of Belief in God, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 1974, The Nature of Necessity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0198244142.001.0001

---, 1980, Does God Have a Nature? Milwaukee, WI: Marquette University Press.

---, 1993, Warrant: the Current Debate, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195078624.001.0001

---, 1993, Warrant and Proper Function, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195078640.001.0001

---, 2000, Warranted Christian Belief, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0195131932.001.0001

---, 2011, Where the Conflict Really Lies: Science, Religion, and Naturalism, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199812097.001.0001

Plantinga, Alvin and Michael Bergmann, 2016, "Religion and Epistemology", in Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Tim Crane (ed.), London: Routledge. doi:10.4324/9780415249126-K080-2

Alvin Plantinga and Michael Tooley, 2008, Knowledge of God, Oxford: Wiley Blackwell.

Popkin, Richard H., 1999, The Pimlico History of Philosophy, London: Pimlico.

Proudfoot, Wayne, 1976, God and the Self: Three Types of Philosophy of Religion, Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press.

---, 1985, Religious Experience, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.

Pruss, Alexander R. and Joshua L. Rasmussen, 2018, Necessary Existence, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oso/9780198746898.001.0001

Putnam, Hilary, 1983, Realism and Reason: Philosophical Papers, Volume 3, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ranganathan, Shyam, 2018, Hinduism: A Contemporary Philosophical Investigation, (Investigating Philosophy of Religion), London: Routledge.

Re Manning, Russell (ed.), 2013, The Oxford Handbook of Natural Theology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199556939.001.0001

Reichenbach, Bruce R., 1972, The Cosmological Argument: A Reassessment, Springfield, IL: Thomas Press.

---, 1982, Evil and a Good God, New York: Fordham University Press.

Rescher, Nicholas, 1985, Pascal's Wager: A Study of Practical Reasoning in Philosophical Theology, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.

Rhees, Rush, 1969, Without Answers, New York: Schocken Books.

Rogers, Katherin A., 2007, "Anselmian Eternalism: The Presence of a Timeless God", Faith and Philosophy, 24(1): 3-27. doi:10.5840/faithphil200724134

---, 2008, Anselm on Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199231676.001.0001

Rota, Michael, 2016, Taking Pascal's wager, Downers Grove: Intervarsity.

Rowe, William L., 1975, The Cosmological Argument, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

---, 1978 [1993], Philosophy of Religion: An Introduction, Belmont: Wadsworth. Second Edition, 1993.

---, 2004, Can God Be Free?, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Rundle, Bede, 2004, Why There Is Something Rather than Nothing, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0199270503.001.0001

Ruse, Michael, 2014, "Atheism and Science", in The Customization of Science: The Impact of Religious and Political Worldviews on Contemporary Science Steve Fuller, Mikael Stenmark, Ulf Zackariasson (eds), New York: Palgrave, 73-88. doi:10.1057/9781137379610_5

Schellenberg, J.L., 2005, Prolegomena to Philosophy of Religion, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2007, The Wisdom to Doubt: A Justification of Religious Skepticism, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2009, The Will To Imagine: A Justification of Skeptical Religion, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 2013, Evolutionary Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199673766.001.0001

---, 2017, "Religion Without God (And Without Turning East): A New Western Alternative to Traditional Theistic Faith", World and Word, 37(2): 118-127. [Schellenberg 2017 available online]

Schlesinger, George N., 1977, Religion and Scientific Method, Dordrecht: Reidel. doi:10.1007/978-94-010-1235-5

---, 1988, New Perspectives on Old-Time Religion, New York: Oxford University Press.

Schloss, Jeffrey and Michael J. Murray (eds.), 2009, The Believing Primate: Scientific, Philosophical, and Theological Reflections on the Origin of Religion, Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199557028.001.0001

Sessions, William Lad, 1994, The Concept of Faith: A Philosophical Investigation, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Sharma, Arvind, 1990, A Hindu Perspective on the Philosophy of Religion, New York: St. Martin's Press.

---, 1995, Philosophy of Religion and Advaita Vedanta: A Comparative Study in Religion and Reason, University Park, PA: The Pennsylvania State University Press.

Smart, J.J.C. and J.J. Haldane, 1996, Atheism and Theism, Oxford: Blackwell. Second edition 2003. doi:10.1002/9780470756225

Smart, Ninian, 1962 [1986], "Religion as a Discipline?", Higher Education Quarterly, 17(1): 48-53; reprinted in hisConcept and Empathy: Essays in the Study of Religion, Donald Wiebe (ed.), New York: New York University Press, 1986. doi:10.1111/j.1468-2273.1962.tb00978.x

Sobel, Jordan Howard, 2003, Logic and Theism: Arguments For and Against Beliefs in God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511497988

Sorensen, Roy A., 1992, Thought Experiments, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/019512913X.001.0001

Soskice, Janet Martin, 1985, Metaphor and Religious Language, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Stenmark, Mikael, 2001, Scientism: Science, Ethics, and Religion, Aldershot, UK: Ashgate.

---, 2004, How to Relate Science and Religion: A Multidimensional Model, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.

---, 2015, "Competing Conceptions of God: The Personal God versus the God beyond Being", Religious Studies, 51(2): 205-220. doi:10.1017/S0034412514000304

Sterba, James, 2019, Is a Good God Logically Possible? New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Stiver, Dan R., 1996, The Philosophy of Religious Language: Sign, Symbol, and Story, Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishers.

Stump, Eleonore, 2010, Wandering in Darkness: Narrative and the Problem of Suffering, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199277421.001.0001

Stump, Eleonore and Norman Kretzmann, 1981, "Eternity", The Journal of Philosophy, 78(8): 429-458; reprinted in Morris 1987b: pp. 219-52. doi:10.2307/2026047

Swinburne, Richard, 1977, The Coherence of Theism, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0198240708.001.0001

---, 1979, The Existence of God, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199271672.001.0001

---, 1981, Faith and Reason, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0198247257.001.0001

---, 1986, The Evolution of the Soul, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0198236980.001.0001

---, 1994, The Christian God, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1996, Is There a God?, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198235446.001.0001

---, 1998, Providence and the Problem of Evil, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/0198237987.001.0001

Taliaferro, Charles, 1994, Consciousness and the Mind of God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511520693

---, 1998, Contemporary Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2001, "Sensibility and Possibilia: A Defense of Thought Experiments", Philosophia Christi, 3(2): 403-421.

---, 2002, "Philosophy of Religion", in The Blackwell Companion to Philosophy, Nicholas Bunnin and E. P. Tsui-James (eds.), second edition, Oxford: Blackwell, 453-489. doi:10.1002/9780470996362.ch17

---, 2005a, "A God's Eye Point of View: The Divine Ethic", in Harris and Insole 2005: 76-84.

---, 2005b, Evidence and Faith: Philosophy of Religion Since the Seventeenth Century, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511610370

---, 2009, Philosophy of Religion: A Beginner's Guide, Oxford: Oneworld.

---,2021, Religions: A Quick Immersion, New York: Tibidabo Publishing Inc.

Taliaferro, Charles and Jil Evans (eds.), 2011, Turning Images in Philosophy, Science, and Religion: A New Book of Nature, Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199563340.001.0001

---, 2013, The Image in Mind: Theism, Naturalism, and the Imagination, London: Continuum.

---, 2021, Is God Invisible? Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Taliaferro, Charles and Chad Meister (eds.), 2009, The Cambridge Companion to Christian Philosophical Theology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CCOL9780521514330

Taliaferro, Charles, Paul Draper, and Philip L. Quinn, 2010, A Companion to Philosophy of Religion, second edition, (Blackwell Companions to Philosophy, 9), Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell.

Taliaferro, Charles, Victoria S. Harrison, and Stewart Goetz, 2012, The Routledge Companion to Theism, London: Routledge.

Taliaferro, Charles and Elliot Knuths, 2017, "Thought Experiments in Philosophy of Religion: The Virtues of Phenomenological Realism and Values", Open Theology, 3(1): 167-173. doi:10.1515/opth-2017-0013

Taliaferro, Charles and Elsa J. Marty (eds.), 2010 [2018], A Dictionary of Philosophy of Religion, New York: Continuum. Second edition 2018.

Taylor, Richard, 1963, Metaphysics, Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Tennant, F.R., 1930, Philosophical Theology (Volume II), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Tilghman, Benjamin R., 1994, An Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Blackwell.

Timpe, Kevin, 2014, Free Will in Philosophical Theology, London: Bloomsbury.

Tracy, Thomas F. (ed.), 1994, The God Who Acts: Philosophical and Theological Explorations, University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press.

Trigg, Roger, 1989, Reality at Risk, London: Harvester.

---, 1993, Rationality and Science: Can Science Explain Everything?, Oxford: Blackwell.

Van Cleve, James, 1999, Problems from Kant, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

van Inwagen, Peter, 1983, An Essay on Free Will, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1995, God, Knowledge and Mystery: Essays in Philosophical Theology, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

---, 1998, "Modal Epistemology", Philosophical Studies, 92(1/2): 67-84. doi:10.1023/A:1017159501073

---, 2006, The Problem of Evil, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199245604.001.0001

---, 2017, Thinking about Free Will, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/9781316711101

Wainwright, William J., 1981, Mysticism: A Study of Its Nature, Cognitive Value, and Moral Implications, Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press.

---, 1988, Philosophy of Religion, (The Wadsworth Basic Issues in Philosophy Series), first edition, Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing. Second edition, 1998.

--- (ed.), 1996, God, Philosophy, and Academic Culture, Atlanta: Scholars Press

Walls, Jerry L. (ed.), 2007, The Oxford Handbook of Eschatology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/oxfordhb/9780195170498.001.0001

Ward, Keith, 1974, The Concept of God, Hoboken: Basil Blackwell.

---, 2002, God, a Guide for the Perplexed, London: Oneworld.

---, 2014, The Evidence for God: The Case for the Existence of the Spiritual Dimension, London: Darton, Longman & Todd.

---, 2017, The Christian Idea of God: A Philosophical Foundation for Faith, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/9781108297431

---, 2006, Is Religion Dangerous? Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans.

Westphal, Merold, 1984, God, Guilt, and Death: An Existential Phenomenology of Religion, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

Wettstein, Howard, 2012, The Significance of Religious Experience, Oxford: Oxford University Press doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199841363.001.0001

Whitehead, Alfred North, 1929 [1978], Process and Reality: An Essay in Cosmology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Corrected edition, David Ray Griffin and Donald W. Sherburne (eds), New York: Free Press, 1978. Gifford lectures delivered in the University of Edinburgh during the session 1927-28.

Wierenga, Edward R., 1989, The Nature of God: An Inquiry into Divine Attributes, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Wisdom, J., 1945, "Gods", Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 45: 185-206. doi:10.1093/aristotelian/45.1.185

Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 1953, Philosophical Investigations (Philosophische Untersuchungen), G.E.M. Anscombe (trans.), Oxford: Blackwell.

Wolterstorff, Nicholas, 1976, Reason within the Bounds of Religion, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans.

---, 1982, "God Everlasting", in Contemporary Philosophy of Religion, Steven M. Cahn and David Shatz (eds.), New York: Oxford University Press.

Wykstra, Stephen J., 1984, "The Humean Obstacle to Evidential Arguments from Suffering: On Avoiding the Evils of 'Appearance'", International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 16(2): 73-93. doi:10.1007/BF00136567

Wynn, Mark R., 2013, Renewing the Senses: A Study of the Philosophy and Theology of the Spiritual Life, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199669981.001.0001

Wynn, Mark, 2020, Spiritual Traditions and the Virtues, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Yandell, Keith E., 1993, The Epistemology of Religious Experience, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Zagzebski, Linda Trinkaus, 1991, The Dilemma of Freedom and Foreknowledge, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195107630.001.0001

---, 2004, Divine Motivation Theory, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511606823

---, 2008, "Omnisubjectivity", in Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Religion, Jonathan L. Kvanvig (ed.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, volume 1, 231-247.

---, 2012, Epistemic Authority: A Theory of Trust, Authority, and Autonomy in Belief, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199936472.001.0001

Zagzebski, Linda, 2022, God, Knowledge, and the Good, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Ideally, a guide to the nature and history of philosophy of religion would begin with an analysis or definition of religion. Unfortunately, there is no current consensus on a precise identification of the necessary and sufficient conditions of what counts as a religion.

# data[].attributes.headline
8.4 Aquinas & the Cosmological Arguments: Crash Course Philosophy #10

# data[].attributes.subject
8.4 Aquinas & the Cosmological Arguments: Crash Course Philosophy #10

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores the cosmological argument based on the idea that the existence of god can be proven based on facts of the universe.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Aquinas & the Cosmological Arguments: Crash Course Philosophy #10

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the cosmological argument that infers the existence of a necessary being, i.e. god, from various facts about the universe.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Historical Overview

Although in Western philosophy the earliest formulation of a version of the cosmological argument is found in Plato's Laws, 893-96, the classical argument is firmly rooted in Aristotle's Physics (VIII, 4-6) and Metaphysics (XII, 1-6). Islamic philosophy enriches the tradition, developing two types of arguments. Arabic philosophers ( falasifa), such as Ibn Sina (c. 980-1037), developed the argument from contingency, which was taken up by Thomas Aquinas (1225-74) in his Summa Theologica (I,q.2,a.3) and in his Summa Contra Gentiles (I, 13). Influenced by the Neoplatonist John Philoponus (5th c) (Davidson 1969), the mutakallimūm-theologians who used reason and argumentation to support their revealed Islamic beliefs-developed the temporal version of the argument from the impossibility of an infinite regress, now referred to as the kalām cosmological argument. For example, al-Ghāzāli (1058-1111) argued that everything that begins to exist requires a cause of its beginning. The world is composed of temporal phenomena preceded by other temporally-ordered phenomena. Since such a series of temporal phenomena cannot continue to infinity because an actual infinite is impossible, the world must have had a beginning and a cause of its existence, termed Allah or God (Craig 1979: part 1). This version of the cosmological argument entered the medieval Christian tradition through Bonaventure (1221-74) in his Sentences ( II Sent. D.1,p.1,a.1,q.2).

Enlightenment thinkers, such as Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz and Samuel Clarke, reaffirmed the cosmological argument. Leibniz (1646-1716) appealed to a strengthened principle of sufficient reason, according to which "no fact can be real or existing and no statement true without a sufficient reason for its being so and not otherwise" ( Monadology, §32). Leibniz uses the principle to argue that the sufficient reason for the "series of things comprehended in the universe of creatures" (§36) must exist outside this series of contingencies and is found in a necessary being that we call God (§38). Samuel Clarke likewise employed the principle of sufficient reason in his cosmological argument (Rowe 1975: chap. 2).

Although the cosmological argument does not figure prominently in Asian philosophy, a very abbreviated version of it, proceeding from dependence, can be found in Udayana's Nyāyakusumāñjali I,4. In general, philosophers in the Nyāya tradition argue that since the universe has parts that come into existence at one occasion and not another, it must have a cause. We could admit an infinite regress of causes if we had evidence for such, but lacking such evidence, God must exist as the non-dependent cause. Many of the objections to the argument contend that God is an inappropriate cause because of God's nature. For example, since God is immobile and has no body, he cannot properly be said to cause anything. The Naiyāyikas reply that God could assume a body at certain times, and in any case, God need not create in the same way humans do (Potter 1977: 100-07).

René Descartes advances his version of the cosmological argument not only as a piece of natural theology that proves God's existence by natural reason, but also serving an epistemic function of guaranteeing that God could not be deceiving him ( Meditations on First Philosophy, Preface & Meditation 3). The cosmological argument came under serious assault in the 18 th century, first by David Hume and then by Immanuel Kant. Hume (1748) attacked both the view of causation presupposed in the argument (that causation is an objective, productive, necessary power relation that holds between two things) and the Causal Principle-every contingent being has a cause of its existence-that lies at the heart of the argument. Kant contended that the cosmological argument, in identifying the necessary being, relies on the ontological argument, which in turn is suspect. We will return to these criticisms below.

In the first part of the 20th century, with the rise of Positivism, the argument was largely abandoned. For critics like J.J.C. Smart (1955), the claim of the cosmological argument that God necessarily exists is equivalent to "Necessarily, God exists." But since existence claims cannot be logically necessary, the statement is absurd. However, he notes, within us lies a deep-seated question: why should anything exist at all? Smart does not know what sort of question this is for it fails to fit his conception of propositions as either necessary truths or empirical claims. However, he continues, this awe-inspiring theological question appeals to those with a religious attitude. In this, the cosmological argument is reduced to a mystical role, catering to our emotions but devoid of rational content.

Both theists and nontheists in the last part of the 20 th century and the first part of the 21 st century generally show a healthy skepticism about the argument. Alvin Plantinga concludes "that this piece of natural theology is ineffective" (1967: chap. 1), and from his later Reformed Epistemology, it is unnecessary since belief in God can be properly basic. Richard Gale contends, in Kantian fashion, that since the conclusion of all versions of the cosmological argument invokes an impossibility, no cosmological arguments can provide examples of sound reasoning (1991: chap. 7). (However, Gale seems to have changed his mind and in recent writings proposed and defended his own version of the cosmological argument, which we will consider below.) Similarly, Michael Martin (1990: chap. 4), John Mackie (1982: chap. 5), Quentin Smith (Craig and Smith 1993), Bede Rundle (2004), Wes Morriston (2000, 2002a, 2003, 2010), and Graham Oppy (2006: chap. 3), among numerous others, reason that no current version of the cosmological argument is sound or provides probabilistic evidence. Yet dissenting voices can be heard. Robert Koons (1997) employs mereology and modal and nonmonotonic logic in taking a "new look" at the argument from contingency. In his widely discussed writings William Lane Craig marshals multidisciplinary evidence for the truth of the premises found in the kalām argument. Richard Gale and Alexander Pruss propose a version based on a so-called weak principle of sufficient reason that leads to a finite God that is not omnibenevolent, while Michael Almeida constructs a version of the argument based on modal realism and a strong principle of sufficient reason. Richard Swinburne, though rejecting deductive versions of the cosmological argument, proposes an inductive argument that is part of a larger cumulative case for God's existence.

There is quite a chance that if there is a God he will make something of the finitude and complexity of a universe. It is very unlikely that a universe would exist uncaused, but rather more likely that God would exist uncaused. The existence of the universe...can be made comprehensible if we suppose that it is brought about by God. (Swinburne 1979: 131-32)

In short, in contrast to the first half of the last century, contemporary philosophers contribute increasingly detailed, complex, and sophisticated arguments on both sides of the debate, some connected to natural theology, many others unconnected but important for their philosophically complex and subtle reasoning.

2. Typology of Cosmological Arguments

Philosophers employ diverse classifications of the cosmological arguments. Swinburne distinguishes inductive from deductive versions. Craig distinguishes three types of deductive cosmological arguments in terms of their approach to an infinite regress of causes. The first, advocated by Aquinas, is based on the impossibility of an essentially ordered infinite regress. The second, which Craig terms the kalām argument, holds that an infinite temporal regress of causes is impossible because an actual infinite is impossible, and even if it were possible it could not be temporally realized. The third, espoused by Leibniz and Clarke, is overtly founded on the Principle of Sufficient Reason (Craig 1980: 282-83), although it appears that all versions use some form of that principle. Craig notes that the distinction between these types of arguments is important because the objections raised against one version may be irrelevant to other versions. So, for example, a critique of a particular version of the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR), which one finds developed by William Rowe or Richard Gale, might not be telling against the Thomistic or kalām versions of the argument. Another way of distinguishing between versions of the argument is in terms of the relevance of time to the argument. In Aquinas's version, consideration of the essential ordering of the causes or reasons proceeds independent of temporal concerns. The relationship between cause and effect is treated as real but not temporal, so that the first cause is not a first cause in time but a sustaining cause (Siniscalchi 2018: 691). In the kalām version, however, the temporal ordering of the causal sequence is central, introducing issues of the nature of time into the discussion.

3. Complexity of the Question

It is said that philosophy begins in wonder. Thus it was for the pre-Socratic Greeks, who wondered what constituted the basic stuff of the world (κóσμος) around them, how this basic stuff changed into the diverse forms they experienced, and how it came to be. These origination questions related to the puzzle of existence that, in its metaphysical dimensions, is the subject of our concern.

First, why is there anything at all? This question becomes clearer when put in contrastive form, Why is there something rather than nothing? We can ask this question even in the absence of contingent beings, though in this context it is likely to prove unanswerable. For example, if God or the universe is logically or absolutely necessary, it would not only exist but must exist even if nothing else existed. Probably no reason can be given for why logically or absolutely necessary things exist, if they do at all. (Almeida disagrees; see his argument below.)

Some doubt whether we can ask this question because there being nothing is not an option. John Heil asks, "What exactly is nothing at all? What would nothing be?" (Heil 2013: 174). He analogizes nothing with the notion of empty space, in terms of which, he thinks, we can conceptualize nothing. He reasons that we cannot achieve a notion of empty space simply by removing the universe's contents one at a time, for space (the void) would still exist. However, we need not analogize nothing in terms of empty space, and even if we do, we surely can conceive of removing space. If we think of space as a particular type of relation between objects, the removal of all objects (everything) would leave nothing, including relations. The key point is that "leaving nothing" is not to be understood in the sense that nothing is or has existence. We can easily be misled by the language of there being nothing at all, leading to the notion that nothing has being or existence. Heil suggests that nothing might be a precursor to the Big Bang. However, this too is a misconception-though one widely held by those who think that the universe arose out of nothing, e.g., a vacuum fluctuation. A vacuum fluctuation is itself not nothing "but is a sea of fluctuating energy endowed with a rich structure and subject to physical laws" (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 183, 191). The contrastive question is comprehensible: "Why is there something rather than there never having been anything whatsoever?"

Rutten (2012, 13-15, see Other Internet Resources) develops an a priori reductio ad absurdum argument for the impossibility of there being nothing. Suppose nothing exists. If nothing exists, then no actual states of affairs exist, and if no actual states of affairs exist, no merely possible states of affairs exist, since (on an Aristotelean model) there is nothing to actualize them or bring them about. Hence, if nothing exists, there are no possible states of affairs, since to be possible, something must either be actual or merely possible. (This is consistent with the theists' contention that out of nothing nothing can come.) However, one can conceive of a possible world with at least one actual and hence possible state of affairs S, for example, a world with one atom. But, Rutten notes, on the S5 axiom system of modal logic (see the entry on modal logic), all possible worlds are connected. Hence, if S is metaphysically possible in one world, S is metaphysically possible in all possible worlds. That is, S is necessarily possible. However, this contradicts the original conclusion that if total nothingness is metaphysically possible, there are no possible states of affairs in that possible world. Hence, there is a reductio against the original thesis that there can be nothingness. One might counter this reductio not only by questioning the principle that what is metaphysically possible in one world is so in every world, but also by contending that the argument trades on a confusion between metaphysical necessity, as evidenced by appeal to an Aristotelian principle regarding the relationship between actuality and possibility, with logical necessity, which in invoking the S5 modal system addresses logical possibility across possible worlds (for this distinction, see Burgess 1999, 81).

Second, why are there these particular contingent beings? The starting point here is the existence of particular things, and the question posed asks for an explanation for there being these particular things. If we are looking for a causal explanation and accept a full explanation (in terms of contemporary or immediately prior causal conditions and the relevant natural laws that together necessitate the effect), the answer emerges from an analysis of the relevant immediate causal conditions present in each case. Hume argues that an explanation in terms of temporally conjoined factors is all that is necessary for a satisfactory explanation. In contrast, O'Connor treats this formulation of the question as the basis for his construction of a cosmological argument for the existence of an absolutely necessary being (2008: 65).

Heil suggests that the answer depends on how one understands the Big Bang (2013: 178). If it was spontaneous, the question has no answer. If not spontaneous, there might be an answer. Theists broaden the explanatory search to include final causes or intentions appropriate to a personal cause. It leads us to ask the question, "Supposing that God exists, why did God bring about contingent beings?" This assumes that God exists and now inquires about the reasons for creation. On the one hand, we might argue that this question is unanswerable in that only God would know his reasons for bringing the universe into existence (O'Connor 2008). On the other hand, God acts out of his nature; Swinburne (2004: 47, 114-23) emphasizes God's goodness, from which we can infer possible reasons for what God brings about (although at this point the problem of evil has bite). God also acts from his intentions (Swinburne 1993: 139-45; 2007: 83-84), so that God could reveal his purposes for his act of creating (Richard Swinburne, The Evolution of the Soul: 309).

Third, why do things continue to exist? This is the question that Thomas Aquinas posed. Aquinas was interested not in a beginning cause but in a sustaining cause, for he believed that the universe could be eternal-although he believed on the basis of revelation that it was not eternal. He constructed his cosmological arguments around the question of what sustains things in the universe in their existence.

Fourth, if the universe has a beginning, what is the cause of that beginning? This is the question that is addressed by the kalām cosmological argument, given its central premise that everything that begins to exist has a cause. Many, however, deny the antecedent in the conditional, that the universe had a beginning.

Fifth and fundamentally, why are there contingent beings? This may be asked about particular finite beings and, if the universe is contingent, the universe. Several responses have been given. One is that particular things exist because of their causes, and their causes because of their causes, and so on. Had those causes not existed, the effect in question would not exist. If one speaks about the universe, then either it exists because it is caused (e.g., brought about by the intentional act of a supernatural being) or it is inexplicable (the universe just exists; its existence is a brute fact; it has always existed, though perhaps through many phases). This is the question that traditional cosmological arguments connected to natural theology address.

Two things should be obvious from this discussion. First, questions about existence are more nuanced than usually addressed (Heil 2013: 177). It is important to be more precise about what one is asking when one asks this broader metaphysical question about why there is something rather than nothing. Second, the cosmological argument lies at the heart of attempts to answer the questions, and to this we now turn.

4. Argument for a Non-contingent Cause

Thomas Aquinas held that among the things whose existence needs explanation are contingent beings that depend for their existence upon other beings. Richard Taylor (1992: 84-94) discusses the argument in terms of the world ("everything that ever does exist, except God, in case there is a god", 1992: 87) being contingent and thus needing explanation. Arguing that the term "universe" refers to an abstract entity or set, William Rowe rephrases the issue, "Why does that set (the universe) have the members that it does rather than some other members or none at all?" (Rowe 1975: 136). Put broadly, "Why is there anything at all?" (Smart, in Smart and Haldane, 1996: 35; Rundle 2004). The response of defenders of the cosmological argument is that what is contingent exists because of some action of a necessary being.

4.1 A Deductive Argument from Contingency

As an a posteriori argument, the cosmological argument begins with a fact known by experience, namely, that something contingent exists. We might sketch out a version of the argument as follows.

1. A contingent being (a being such that if it exists, it could have not-existed) exists.

2. All contingent beings have a sufficient cause of or fully adequate explanation for their existence.

3. The sufficient cause of or fully adequate explanation for the existence of contingent beings is something other than the contingent being itself.

4. The sufficient cause of or fully adequate explanation for the existence of contingent beings must either be solely other contingent beings or include a non-contingent (necessary) being.

5. Contingent beings alone cannot provide a sufficient cause of or fully adequate explanation for the existence of contingent beings.

6. Therefore, what sufficiently causes or fully adequately explains the existence of contingent beings must include a non-contingent (necessary) being.

7. Therefore, a necessary being (a being such that if it exists, it cannot not-exist) exists.

8. The universe, which is composed of only contingent beings, is contingent.

9. Therefore, the necessary being is something other than the universe. (For a Thomistic version of this argument, see Siniscalchi 2018: 690-93).

In the argument, steps 1-7 establish the existence of a necessary or non-contingent being; steps 8-9 attempt in some way to identify it.

Over the centuries philosophers have suggested various instantiations for the contingent being noted in premise 1. In his Summa Theologica (I,q.2,a.3), Aquinas argued that we need a causal explanation for things in motion, things that are caused, and contingent beings. Others, such as Richard Swinburne (2004), propose that the contingent being referred to in premise 1 is the universe. The connection between the two is supplied by John Duns Scotus, who argued that even if the essentially ordered causes were infinite, "the whole series of effects would be dependent upon some prior cause" (Scotus [c. 1300] 1964: I,D.2,p.1,q.1,§53). Richard Gale (1999) calls this the "Big Conjunctive Contingent Fact". Whereas the contingency of particular existents is generally undisputed, not the least because of our mortality, the contingency of the universe deserves serious defense (see section 4.2). Premise 2 invokes a moderate version of the Principle of Causation, according to which there must be a sufficient cause for any contingent being or event, or of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, according to which there must be a fully adequate explanation for any contingent being or event. Applied here, the Principles of Causation or of Sufficient Reason support the contention that if something is contingent, there must be a sufficient cause of its existence or a fully adequate reason or explanation why it exists rather than not exists. The point of premise 3 is simply that something cannot cause or explain its own existence, for this would require it to already exist (in a logical if not in a temporal sense). Premise 4 is true by virtue of the Principle of Excluded Middle: what explains the existence of the contingent being either are solely other contingent beings or include a non-contingent (necessary) being. Conclusions 6 and 7 follow validly from the respective premises.

For many critics, premise 5 (along with premise 2) holds the key to the argument's success or failure. The truth of 5 depends upon the requirements for an adequate explanation. Using the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR), what is required here is an account in terms of sufficient conditions that provides an adequate explanation why the cause had the effect it did, or alternatively, why this particular effect and not another arose. Swinburne (2004: 75-79), and Alexander Pruss (2006: 16-18) after him, note diverse kinds of explanations. In a full explanation the causal factors-in scientific causation, contemporary or immediately precedent causal conditions and natural laws; in personal causation, persons and their intentions- are sufficient for the occurrence of an event. They "together necessitate the occurrence of the effect" (Swinburne 2004: 76).

It does not allow a puzzling aspect of the explanandum to disappear: anything puzzling in the explanandum is either also found in the explanans or else explained by the explanans. (Pruss 2006: 17)

It suffices to explain why something comes about given the immediately present causal conditions but leaves unexplained why those explanatory causal conditions and/or reasons themselves hold.

In a complete explanation, every aspect of the explanandum and explanans at the time of the occurrence is accounted for; nothing puzzling remains.

A complete explanation of the occurrence of E is a full explanation of its occurrence in which all the factors cited are such that there is no [further] explanation (either full or partial) of their existence of operation in terms of factors operative at the time of their existence or operation. (Swinburne 2004: 78)

Pruss and Swinburne argue that the kind of explanation required by the PSR is a complete explanation.

Quinn argues that an adequate explanation need not require a complete explanation (2005: 584-85); a partial explanation might do just as well, depending on the context. Among these adequate explanations of why this actual world obtains rather than another possible world (including one with no contingent beings) is that the universe is an inexplicable brute fact or that God strongly actualized the world (although not everything in it). He refuses to take sides on the debate between explanations, except to say that science cannot provide an adequate explanation if the explanatory chain is infinite, for the chain of causes is itself contingent or it ends in an initial contingency not scientifically accountable. However, not only does Quinn not clarify what constitutes an adequate explanation, but as Pruss contends, the PSR "is not compatible with an infinite chain of explanations that has no ultimate explanans" (2006: 17), for in an infinite chain something puzzling remains to be explained, with the result that the PSR would again be invoked to explain what is puzzling. However, as we will question below, is the brute fact of the universe any more unacceptable as a complete explanation than the brute fact of a necessary being (God)?

One worry with understanding the PSR in this way is that it may lead to a deterministic account that not only may bode ill for the success of the argument but on a libertarian account may be incompatible with the contention that God created freely. Pruss, however, envisions no such difficulty, for giving reasons neither makes the event deterministic nor removes freedom.

What gives sufficiency to explanation is that mystery is taken away, for example, through the citing of relevant reasons, not that probability is increased.... Once we have said that \(x\) freely chose \(A\) for \(R\), then the only thing left that is unexplained is why \(x\) existed and was both free and attracted by \(R\). (Pruss 2006: 157,158)

One might reply that an explanation needs to be given for why \(x\) was attracted to \(R_1\) rather than to \(R_2\), and that if that explanation is given, \(x\)'s choice is not free but determined by the degree to which \(x\) is attracted to different reasons. However, Pruss might respond that being "attracted by" is not to be understood in any deterministic sense. One might freely consider an option to be the best without being necessitated to choose it. The debate hinges on how one understands how reasons function in human agency.

Finally, some (disputedly, see below) argue that explanations must be either natural (impersonal) or non-natural (personal). 8 & 9 assert that if the contingent being identified in 1 is the universe, given that the universe encompasses all natural existents and the laws and principles governing them, the explanation must be in terms of a non-natural, eternal, necessary being that provides an intentional, personal, ultimate explanation. Since the argument proceeds independent of temporal considerations, the argument does not necessarily propose a first cause in time, but allows for a first or primary sustaining cause of the universe. As Aquinas noted, the philosophical arguments for God's existence as first cause are compatible with the eternity of the universe ( On the Eternity of the World), although he rejects the latter based on divine revelation.

Whether 8 and 9 are an intrinsic part of the cosmological argument is debated. Kant argued that the argument had two parts, the first establishing the existence of an absolutely necessary being; the second part, identifying this being as the most real being (1787, B633-40). Without the second part, the concept of a necessary being was empty. The issue achieves significance when the question arises whether the argument has religious significance, that is, whether necessary being to which the argument concludes is God. Some contend that from the concept of a necessary being flow properties appropriate to a divine being (Siniscalchi 2018, 693). Timothy O'Connor (2004) argues that being a necessary being cannot be a derivative emergent property, otherwise the being would be contingent. Likewise, the connection between the essential properties must be necessary. Hence, the universe cannot be the necessary being since it is mereologically complex. Similarly, the myriad elementary particles cannot be necessary beings either, for their distinguishing distributions are externally caused and hence contingent. Rather, he contends that a more viable account of the necessary being is as a purposive agent with desires, intentions, and beliefs, whose activity is guided but not determined by its goals, a view consistent with identifying the necessary being as God. Koons (as are Craig and Sinclair 2009: 192-94) is willing to identify the necessary being as God. He identifies seven corollaries regarding God's nature that follow from his mereological construction of the cosmological argument (e.g., God as the necessary being is not a mere aggregate or composite; has its basic attributes by necessity; is not essentially located in space or time; etc. (1997). Oppy (1999, 381-84), on the other hand, in critiquing Koons's presentation "of seven corollaries to his (cosmological) proof which are intended to establish that the First Cause has at least some of the attributes which are traditionally attributed to God," expresses significant skepticism about Koons's arguments and the possibility of such a deductive move to determine its properties.

Critics have objected to key premises in the argument. We will consider the most important objections and responses.

4.2 Objection 1: The Universe Just Is

Interpreting the contingent being in premise 1 as the universe, Bertrand Russell denies that the universe needs an explanation ( premise 2); it just is. Russell, following Hume (1779), contends that since we derive the concept of cause from our observation of particular things, we cannot ask about the cause of something like the universe that we cannot experience. The universe needs no explanation; it is "just there, and that's all" (Russell 1948 [1964]: 175). This view was reiterated by Hawking (1987: 651).

Swinburne replies that

uniqueness is relative to description. Every physical object is unique under some description,... yet all objects within the universe are characterized by certain properties, which are common to more than one object.... The objection fails to make any crucial distinction between the universe and other objects; and so it fails in its attempt to prevent at the outset a rational inquiry into the issue of whether the universe has some origin outside itself. (Swinburne 2004: 134-35)

We do not need to experience every possible referent of the class of contingent things to be able to conclude that a contingent thing needs a cause. "To know that a rubber ball dropped on a Tuesday in Waggener Hall by a redheaded tuba player will fall to the ground", I do not need a sample that includes tuba players dropping rubber balls at this location (Koons 1997: 202).

Morriston (2002a: 235) responds that although it is true that we do not need to experience every instance to derive a general principle, the universe is a very different thing from what we experientially reference when we say that things cannot come into existence without a cause. Tuba players are not "anything remotely analogous to the 'initial singularity' that figures in the Big Bang theory of the origin of the universe".

Defenders of the argument respond that there is a key similarity between the cosmos and its content, namely, both are contingent. However, why should we think that the cosmos is contingent? Defenders of the view contend that if the components of the universe are contingent, the universe itself is contingent. Russell replies that the move from the contingency of the components of the universe to the contingency of the universe commits the Fallacy of Composition, which mistakenly concludes that since the parts have a certain property, the whole likewise has that property. Hence, whereas we legitimately can ask for the cause of particular things, to require a cause of the universe based on the contingency of its parts is mistaken.

Russell correctly notes that arguments of the part-whole type can commit the Fallacy of Composition. For example, the argument that since all the bricks in the wall are small, the wall is small, is fallacious. Yet it is an informal fallacy of content, not a formal fallacy. Sometimes the totality has the same quality as the parts because of the nature of the parts invoked-the wall is brick (composed of baked clay) because it is built of bricks (composed of baked clay). The universe's contingency, theists argue, resembles the second case. If all the contingent things in the universe, including matter and energy, ceased to exist simultaneously, the universe itself, as the totality of these things, would cease to exist. However, if the universe can cease to exist, it is contingent and requires an explanation for its existence (Reichenbach 1972: chap. 5).

It is worth noting that on the one hand, "universe" can refer to what is spatio-temporally connected to us. On the other hand, "universe" can refer to the totality of contingent beings (Oppy 1999: 384). This argument for the contingency of the universe from its component, contingent parts coalesces these two understandings in the cosmological argument.

Whether this argument for the contingency of the universe is similar to that advanced by Aquinas in his Third Way depends on how one interprets Aquinas's argument. Aquinas holds that "if everything can not-be, then at one time there was nothing in existence" ( ST I,q.2,a.3). William Rowe (1975: 160-67) argues that what looks like a similar argument in Samuel Clarke for the contingency of the universe is fallacious, for even if every contingent being were to fail to exist in some possible world, it may be the case that there is no possible world that lacks a contingent being (on Aquinas, see Plantinga 1967: 5-6; Kenny 1969: 56-66). That is, although no being would exist in every possible world, every possible world could possess at least one contingent being. In such a case, although each being is contingent, something must exist. Rowe gives the example of a horse race.

We know that although no horse in a given horse race necessarily will be the winner, it is, nevertheless, necessary that some horse in the race will be the winner. (1975: 164)

Rowe's example will work only if it is necessary that some horse will finish the race, for otherwise it is possible that all the horses break a leg and none finishes the race-a condition he notes in that "it is necessary that there exists at least one member of the collection". So why should we think that something must exist, even if it is contingent? Rowe does not say why, but one argument given in defense of this thesis is that the existence of one contingent being may be necessary for the nonexistence of some other contingent being. However, although the fact that something's existence is necessary for the non-existence of something else holds for certain relational properties (for example, the existence of a spouse is necessary for a man not to be a bachelor), it is doubtful that something's existence is necessary for the non-existence of something else per se, which is what is needed to support the argument that denies the contingency of the universe.

Haldane (Smart and Haldane 1996: 132) defends the cogency of Aquinas's reasoning on the grounds that Aquinas's argument is fallacious only on a temporal reading, but Aquinas's argument employs an atemporal ordering of contingent beings. That is, Aquinas does not hold that over time there would be nothing, but that in the per se ordering of causes, if every contingent thing in that order did not exist, there would be nothing.

Rowe (1975: 166) develops a different argument to support the thesis that the universe must be contingent. He argues that it is necessary that if God exists, then it is possible that no dependent beings exist. Since it is possible that God exists, it is possible that it is possible that no dependent beings exist. (This conclusion is licensed by the modal principle: If it is necessary that if \(p\) then \(q\), then if it is possible that \(p\), it is possible that \(q\).) Hence, it is possible that there are no dependent beings; that is, that the universe is contingent. Rowe takes the conditional as necessarily true in virtue of the classical concept of God, according to which God is free to decide whether or not to create dependent beings.

To avoid any hint of the Fallacy of Composition and to avoid its complications, Koons (1997: 198-99) formulates the argument for the contingency of the universe as a mereological argument. If something is contingent, it contains a contingent part. The whole and part overlap and, by virtue of overlapping, have a common part. Since the part in virtue of which they overlap is wholly contingent, the whole likewise must be contingent.

One might approach Russell's thesis regarding the brute fact of the universe from a different direction. If theists are willing to accept the existence of God as the necessary being as a brute fact, why cannot nontheists accept the existence of the universe as a brute fact, as a necessary being? Bede Rundle, for example, argues that what has necessary existence is causally independent. Matter has necessary existence, for although it undergoes change as manifested in particular bits of matter, the given volume of matter found in the universe persists, and as persisting matter/energy does not have or need a cause. This accords with the Principle of Conservation of Mass-Energy, according to which matter and energy are never lost but rather transmute into each other. As indestructible, matter/energy is the necessary being. Consequently, although the material components of the universe are contingent vis-à-vis their form, they are necessary vis-à-vis their existence. On this reading, there is not one but there are many necessary beings, all internal to the universe. Their particular configurations are contingent, but since matter/energy is conserved it cannot be created or lost.

Interestingly enough, this approach was anticipated by Aquinas in his third way in his Summa Theologica (I,q.2,a.3). Once Aquinas concludes that necessary beings exist, he then goes on to ask whether these beings have their existence from themselves or from another. If from another, then we have an unsatisfactory infinite regress of explanations. Hence, there must be something whose necessity is uncaused. As Kenny points out, Aquinas understands this necessity in terms of being unable to cease to exist (Kenny 1969: 48). Although Aquinas understands the uncaused necessary being to be God, Rundle takes this to be matter/energy itself.

One question that arises with Rundle's view is whether there could have been more or less matter/energy than there is. That is, if there is \(n\) amount of matter/energy in the world, could there be a possible world with \(+n\) or \(-n\) amounts of matter/energy? We do not know how much matter/energy existed in the first \(10^{-35}\) seconds of the universe. Even if the universe currently operates according to the principle of the Conservation of Matter and Energy, Rundle's thesis depends on the contention that during the very early phase of rapid expansion, a period of time we know little about, this principle held. A second significant problem concerns what follows from the existence of necessary beings. If the matter/energy nexus constitutes the necessary being, what causally follows from that nexus is itself necessary, and contingency, even in the composing relations within the universe, would disappear. Everything in the universe would be necessary, which is a disquieting position. Third, O'Connor (2004) argues that since the necessary being provides the ultimate explanation, there is no explanation of the differentiation of the kinds of matter or of contingencies that matter/energy causally undergo, for example, in terms of space-time location. We will return to the question of the contingency of the universe below.

4.3 Objection 2: Explaining the Individual Constituents Is Sufficient

Whereas Russell argued that the universe just is, David Hume held that when the parts are explained the whole is explained.

But the whole, you say, wants a cause. I answer that the uniting of these parts into a whole...is performed merely by an arbitrary act of the mind, and has no influence on the nature of things. Did I show you the particular causes of each individual in a collection of twenty particles of matter, I should think it very unreasonable should you afterwards ask me what was the cause of the whole twenty. This is sufficiently explained in explaining the parts. (Hume 1779: part 9)

Hume contends that uniting the parts or individual constituents into a whole is a mental act. In reality, all that exist are individual, causally-related events, not whole sets of events. When we have provided an account of each of these individual, causally-related events we have explained the whole. We don't need anything more.

Rowe objects to what he terms the Hume-Edwards principle-that by explaining the parts we have explained the whole:

When the existence of each member of a collection is explained by reference to some other member of that very same collection, then it does not follow that the collection itself has an explanation. For it is one thing for there to be an explanation of the existence of each dependent being and quite another thing for there to be an explanation of why there are dependent beings at all. (Rowe 1975: 264)

Pruss (1999) expands on Rowe's argument. An explanation of the parts may provide a partial but not a complete explanation. The explanation in terms of parts may fail to explain why these parts exist rather than others, why they exist rather than not, or why the parts are arranged as they are. Each member or part will be explained either in terms of itself or in terms of something else that is contingent. The former would make them necessary, not contingent, beings. If they are explained in terms of something else, they still remain unaccounted for, since the explanation would invoke either an infinite regress of causes or a circular explanation. Pruss employs the chicken/egg sequence: chickens account for eggs, which account for chickens, and so on where the two are paired. However, appealing to an infinite chicken/egg regress or else arguing in a circle explains neither any given chicken nor egg.

Richard Swinburne notes that an explanation is complete when "any attempt to go beyond the factors which we have would result in no gain of explanatory power or prior probability" (2004: 89). However, explaining why something exists rather than something else or than nothing and why it is as it is gives additional explanatory power in explaining why a universe exists at all. Gale (1991: 257-58) concludes that if we are to explain the parts of the universe and their specific concatenation, we must appeal to something other than those parts.

4.4 Objection 3: The Principles of Causation and Sufficient Reason Are Suspect

Critics of the cosmological argument contend that the Causal Principle or, where applicable, the broader Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR) that underlies versions of the argument, is suspect. As Hume argued, there is no reason for thinking that the Causal Principle is true a priori, for we can conceive of events occurring without conceiving of their being caused, and what is conceivable is possible in reality (1748: IV). Neither can an argument for the application of the Causal Principle to the universe be drawn from inductive experience. Even if the Causal Principle applies to events in the world, we cannot extrapolate from the way the world works to the world as a whole (Mackie 1982: 85; Kant 1787: B638).

Several replies are in order. First, Hume's conceivability to possibility argument is unsound. For one thing, whose conceivability is being appealed to here? For another, someone who fails to understand a necessarily true proposition might conceive of it being false, but from this it does not follow that it possibly is false. A person might think (wrongly) that pi is a determinate number, but it does not follow that it is so. In the phenomenology of conceivability, what is really conceivable is difficult if not impossible to differentiate from what some might think is conceivable. And even if something is conceivable, say in a logical sense, it does not follow that it is metaphysically or factually possible. One might conceive that, since heads can be distinguished from tails on a coin, they can actually be separated, but metaphysically such is impossible. What is distinguishable is not necessarily separable. Hume, it seems, confuses epistemic with ontological conditions. Hence, the argument based on conceivability is suspect (Reichenbach 1972: 57-60).

Second, some suggest a pragmatic-type argument to show that the Causal and Sufficient Reason principles are true, namely that the principles are necessary to make the universe intelligible. Without such principles, Pruss argues, science itself would be undercut. "Claiming to be a brute fact should be a last resort. It would undercut the practice of science" (Pruss 2006: 255). Utilization of the principles best accounts for the success of science, indeed, for any investigatory endeavor (Koons 1997; see also Koons 2008: 111-12, where he argues that it is "a subjectively required presumption needed for immunity to internal defeaters"). The best explanation of the success of science and other such rational endeavors is that the principles really indicate how reality operates.

Critics reply that the principles then only have methodological or practical and not ontological justification. As John Mackie argues, we have no right to assume that the universe complies with our intellectual preferences for causal order. We can simply work with brute facts; beginning with them, science would work just as well.

Pruss goes further to suggest that the PSR in particular is "self-evident, obvious, intuitively clear, in no need of argumentative support" (2006: 189). For example, he holds that the Principle of Sufficient Reason-"necessarily, every contingently true proposition has an explanation" (he defers on whether the principle also applies to necessarily true propositions)-is self-evident in the sense that anyone who understands it correctly understands that it is true. These persons might not know it to be self-evidently true, but they do understand it to be true. This is consistent with other persons denying it is self-evident, for those who deny it might misunderstand the principle in various ways.

The problem with the claim of self-evidence is that it is a conversation ender, not a starter. One who denies its self-evidence might think that those who hold to the principle are the ones who experience conceptual blindness. In contrast to analyticity, self-evidence holds in relation to the knowers themselves, and here intuitions vary, perhaps according to philosophical or other types of perspectives. Furthermore, if the principle truly is self-evident, it would be strange to respond to skeptics by attempting to give reasons to support that contention, and were such demanded, the request would itself invoke the very principle in question.

Pruss responds that being self-evident is not incompatible with providing arguments for self-evident propositions, and he thinks that arguments can show the truth of the PSR to those who deny its self-evidence. Among the numerous arguments he advances is a modal argument employing a Weak Principle of Sufficient Reason, according to which "every contingent proposition possibly has a complete explanation" (Pruss 2006: 234-35). We will develop this in section 6.

Peter van Inwagen (1983: 202-04) argues that the PSR must be rejected. If the PSR is true, every contingent proposition has an explanation. Suppose P is the conjunction of all contingent true propositions. Suppose also that there is a state of affairs S that provides a sufficient reason for P. S cannot itself be contingent, for then it would be a conjunct of P and entailed by P, and as both entailing and entailed by P would be P, so that it would be its own sufficient reason. However, no contingent proposition can explain itself. Neither can S be necessary, for from necessary propositions only necessary propositions follow. Necessary propositions cannot explain contingent propositions, for if x sufficiently explains y, then x entails y, and if x is necessary so is y. S cannot be either contingent or necessary, and hence the PSR is false. Thus, if the cosmological argument appeals to the PSR to establish the existence of a necessary being whose existence is expressed by a necessary proposition as an explanation for contingent beings, it fails in that it cannot account for the contingent beings it purportedly explains.

However, as Pruss notes (2006: chaps. 6 & 7), "The word sufficient can be read in two different ways: the reason given can be logically sufficient for the explanandum, or it can sufficiently explain the explanandum (2006: 103)." According to Pruss, we need not hold to the strong claim of logical sufficiency about the relation between explaining and entailment in cases where the explanation is brought about by libertarian free agency. Although God is a necessary being, his connection with the world is through his free agency, and free actions explain but do not entail the existence of particular contingent states.

Clearly, the soundness of the deductive version of the cosmological argument hinges on whether principles like that of Causation or Sufficient Reason are more than methodologically true and on the extent to which these principles can be applied to things, events, and facts. Critics of the argument will be skeptical regarding the universal application of the principles; defenders of the argument generally not so, at least as limited to contingencies. Perhaps the best one can say, with Taylor, is that even those who critique the PSR (understood broadly that every contingent thing, event, or fact must have a sufficient cause, reason, or ground) invoke it when they suggest that defenders of the principle have failed to provide a sufficient reason for thinking it is true.

The principle of sufficient reason can be illustrated in various ways,...but it cannot be proved.... If one were to try proving it, he would sooner or later have to appeal to considerations that are less plausible than the principle itself. Indeed, it is hard to see how one could even make an argument for it without already assuming it. For this reason it might properly be called a presupposition of reason itself. (Taylor 1992: 87)

It might be denied that the request for a sufficient reason for the truth of principle itself invokes the PSR on the grounds that "reason" has two senses, explanation and evidence. However, in requesting and giving a sufficient reason for the truth of the principle, the explanation of why it is true should provide sufficient evidence to support the claim. (See the introduction to the entry Principle of Sufficient Reason).

Finally, critics have argued that an argument for the application of the Causal Principle to the universe cannot be drawn from inductive experience. Even if the Causal Principle applies to events in the world, we cannot extrapolate from the way the world works to the world as a whole (Mackie 1982: 85). The type of causation we experience in the empirical world is different from the kind of causation proposed to hold between a necessary being and the cosmos (Kant 1787: B638).

We will return to the Principle of Causation below with respect to the kalām argument.

4.5 Objection 4: Problems with the Concept of a Necessary Being

Kant argued that the cosmological argument introduced an empirical premise to evade the difficulties of the ontological argument. Although in the ontological argument the perfect being is allegedly determined to exist through its own concept, in fact nothing can be determined to exist in this manner; one has to begin with existence (see entry on Ontological Arguments). The cosmological argument, on the other hand, proceeds from an empirical premise about my existence to the existence of an unconditioned, absolutely necessary being, a being whose nonexistence is "impossible", "absolutely inconceivable" (1787: B621). This concept has the same status as geometrical concepts, which though necessary do not establish the existence of anything corresponding to the concept. So, when we think of an absolutely necessary being, are we thinking about anything at all? What this absolutely necessary being is, what properties it has, can be determined not through experience but only through reason, that is, from a priori concepts alone. Since the only concept that suffices to determine its properties is that of a most real being, the concept of an absolutely necessary being presupposes that concept. However, that the most real being necessarily exists is the burden of the ontological argument. Hence, the CA depends on the ontological argument to determine the absolutely necessary being. But since the ontological argument is defective for the above and other reasons, the cosmological argument that depends on or invokes it likewise must be defective (1787: B634; for an alternative interpretation of Kant's argument see Proops 2014).

Kant's contention that the necessity found in "necessary being" is logical necessity was common up through the 1960s. J.J.C. Smart wrote,

And by "a necessary being" the cosmological argument means "a logically necessary being", i.e., "a being whose non-existence is inconceivable in the sort of way that a triangle's having four sides is inconceivable".... Now since "necessary" is a word which applies primarily to propositions, we shall have to interpret "God is a necessary being" as "The proposition 'God exists' is logically necessary" (1955: 38); in a later work, Smart (Smart and Haldane 1996: 41-47) broadened his notion of necessity.)

Many recent discussions of the cosmological argument, both supporting and critiquing it, interpret the notion of a necessary being as a being that cannot not exist (O'Connor 2008: 78, 2013: 38). For example, Gale-Pruss contend that speaking about necessary beings does not differ from speaking of the necessity of propositions (see section 6). As such, as Plantinga notes, if a necessary being is possible, it exists ( God, Freedom and Evil, 1967: 110). It is a being that exists in all possible worlds. The only question that remains is whether God's existence is possible. This notion is similar to, if not a modernization of, Aquinas's contention that God's essence is to exist. Aquinas attempts to avoid the accusation that this invokes the ontological argument on the grounds that we do not have an adequate concept of God's essence ( ST I,q.2,a.1). However, if we understand "necessary being" in this sense, we can dispose of the cosmological argument as irrelevant; what is needed rather is an argument to establish that God's existence understood as logically necessary is possible, for if it is possible that it is necessary that God exists, then necessarily God exists (by Axiom S5).

However, this need not be the sense in which "necessary being" is understood in the cosmological argument. A more adequate notion of necessary being is that the necessity is metaphysical or factual (Hick 1960). A necessary being is one that if it exists, it neither came into existence nor can cease to exist, and correspondingly, if it does not exist, it cannot come into existence (Reichenbach 1972: 117-20). If it exists, it eternally maintains its own existence; it is self-sufficient and self-sustaining. So understood, the cosmological argument does not rely on notions central to the ontological argument. Rather, instead of being superfluous, the cosmological argument, if sound, gives us reason to think that the necessary being exists rather than not.

Mackie replies that if God has mere metaphysical or factual necessity, God's existence is logically contingent, such that some reason is required for God's own existence (Mackie 1982: 84). As Swinburne notes, God is a logically contingent being, and so could have not-existed (2004: 79, 148). Why, then, does God exist? The PSR can be applied to the necessary being.

The theist responds that the PSR does not address logical contingency but metaphysical contingency. One is not required to find a reason for what is not metaphysically contingent. It is not that the necessary being is self-explanatory; rather, a demand for explaining its existence is inappropriate. Hence, the theist concludes, Hawking's question "Who created God?" (Hawking 1988: 174) is out of place (Davis 1997). We will return to this discussion in section 9.

5. Argument from a Strong Principle of Sufficient Reason

Michael Almeida (2018) builds on the critical arguments of van Inwagen and others regarding the PSR. He contends that the version of the PSR used by defenders of the cosmological argument is inadequate because it fails to provide the best explanation for the universe. The best explanation, and hence the one required of a sound cosmological argument, is an absolute explanation, where everything is explained completely. There are no brute or contingent facts. He notes that in constructing their respective cosmological arguments, Pruss and Swinburne reject absolute explanation for complete explanations, where the effect is explained fully by the cause operating at a given time but where no explanation of the cause at the time of the occurrence is required. According to him, traditional defenders of the cosmological argument cannot invoke the requirement of an absolute explanation because if they did, given their metaphysic of actualist realism, they would incur a host of problems. Since all is determined on an absolute explanation, they would face the problems of the impossibility of libertarian free will, of indeterministic quantum effects, of modal imagination about lawless worlds where things pop into existence, and the collapse of modal distinctions. These problems, he says, arise not from an absolutist PSR per se but from its conjunction with actualist realism (only the actual is real).

The way around this, he contends, if one is going to defend the cosmological argument, is to opt for a different ontology, namely, genuine modal realism (mere possibilities are also real), which he claims not only can legitimize the cosmological argument but avoids the above problems. According to Almeida, modal realism makes libertarian free will compatible with necessitarianism in that two possible worlds can have the same history H up to time t, but at t, A occurs in one world and not in another world. The two histories do not determine whether A or-A occurs, but all possibilities necessarily occur. To make this work Almeida fudges on the principle of the identity of indiscernibles. Although the two series H and H* up to t are identical, there is not one series H that forks at t. Rather, there are two series, such that at t A can occur in one series and-A can occur in another. The past does not necessitate the future. Similarly, lawless or chaotic worlds, i.e., worlds lacking relations following a causal principle, are possible, so that it is possible and hence necessary that causeless events occur. In such a world the cosmological argument would still hold, he claims, because the principle of sufficient reason, compatible with the falsity of the causal principle, still holds. This analysis, he thinks, frees the defender of the cosmological argument from problems that trouble traditional formulations.

We cannot digress here into modal realism (for discussion of possible worlds, see entries on Possible Worlds and David Lewis: Modal Metaphysics), but turn specifically to Almeida's cosmological argument. He argues that whereas cosmological arguments in the past commenced with an initial premise that was taken to express a contingent fact known a posteriori, "facts about change, causation, contingency, and objective...becoming are not usefully characterized as a posteriori facts" (2018: 3). He advances a cosmological argument with what he takes is an a priori fact: the pluriverse and everything in it, including all actualia and all possibilia, exist necessarily. This, he claims, is knowable a priori and according to the PSR requires an absolute explanation. Part of his novel approach is his contention that every proposition in the argument expresses a necessary fact known a priori, and that a priori propositions also require an explanation.

Since Almeida does not advance a detailed version of the cosmological argument, we might attempt to reconstruct his view.

1. "Possible worlds are composite concrete objects... [that] necessarily coexist" (2018: 75). This is a central contention of his Lewisian modal realism (75).

2. The pluriverse exists as "the collection of all possible worlds" (7,75).

3. Everything that exists has an absolute explanation for its existence. Strong PSR

4. "Therefore, there is an absolute explanation for the pluriverse" (75).

5. An absolute explanation is possible "only if there are no contingent facts," that is, only if everything exists necessarily (78-79).

6. Therefore, there are no brute or contingent facts.

7. This absolute explanation is found in the fact that God necessarily exists (75,82).

The pluriverse is the necessary, creative manifestation of the necessarily existing God (5).

Although from necessary propositions contingent propositions cannot follow, necessary propositions can follow. That is, from God's necessary existence we can conclude that the pluriverse necessarily exists. This avoids the van Inwagen objection to the PSR as employed in the cosmological argument. Almeida holds that it also avoids the other problems associated with the cosmological argument in that it allows for contingency within absolute explanation. He contends that contingency is protected by lowering the standards of similarity between worlds; that is, contingency is possible where we do not require exact identity between things held to exist in different worlds. He gives the example of his speaking Finnish, something he cannot do in the actual world. If someone who is identical to Almeida exists in another world, metaphysically he must have identical properties. However, it makes sense to say that in another possible world Almeida could speak Finnish and still be Almeida. We lower the standards of similarity in our everyday consideration of existence in alternate worlds to allow for such possibilities and hence for the contingency of his not speaking Finnish in the actual world.

Several objections might be raised against this version of the cosmological argument. Perhaps most basic is the question why one would accept modal realism. It is, as Almeida and others note, "ontologically extravagant". Second, whereas necessity characterizes the metaphysical world, for Almeida contingency appears to be a subjective, epistemic contribution. That is, metaphysically, everything necessarily is what it is, has all its properties essentially, and is not something else. Epistemically, we can lower the standards of similarity, so that two things with somewhat differing essential properties can be named the same, although strictly or metaphysically speaking, they are not the same. Similarity is an epistemically expansive concept to allow for contingency, but it does not allow for metaphysical contingency. Third, he contends that there are no brute facts on his theory. However, if there must be an absolute explanation for everything, what is the explanation for God's existence? He gives God as an absolute explanation for the necessary existence of the pluriverse, but no absolute sufficient reason for God's existence. He might reply that God's existence is explained by being metaphysically necessary. However, if this explains God's existence, since every component of the pluriverse and the pluriverse itself necessarily exist, why could not their metaphysical necessity be a sufficient reason or absolute explanation for their existence? Could they, like God, simply be necessary?

6. Argument from a Weak Principle of Sufficient Reason

Richard Gale and Alexander Pruss (1999) advanced a modal version of the cosmological argument. They reject the strong version of the PSR, according to which "for every proposition \(p\), if \(p\) is true, then there is a proposition, \(q\), that explains \(p\)". In its place they favor using a weak version of the PSR-it is possible that for every true proposition, there is a proposition, \(q\), that explains \(p\)-that they believe is less question-begging and more initially acceptable to critics. They phrase the argument in terms of contingent and necessary propositions. A contingent proposition is one that is both possibly true and possibly false (i.e., true in some worlds and false in others); a necessarily true proposition is true in every possible world. In its simplest form, the argument is (1) if it is possible that it is necessary that a supernatural being of some sort exists, then it is necessary that a supernatural being of that sort exists. Since (2) it is possible that it is necessary that a supernatural being of some sort exists, (3) it is necessary that this being exists. The being that Gale has in mind is a very powerful and intelligent designer-creator, not the perfect God of Anselm, for this perfect God who would exist in all possible worlds would be incompatible with the existence of gratuitous and horrendous evils to be found in some of those possible worlds.

If one grants modal Axiom S5 (if it is possible that it is necessary that \(p\), then it is necessary that \(p\)), the critical premise in the argument is the second, and Gale and Pruss proceed to defend it using their weak PSR. They begin with the notion of a Big Conjunctive Fact (BCF), which is the totality of propositions that would be true of any possible world were it actualized. Since all possible worlds would have the same necessary propositions, they are differentiated by their Big Conjunctive Contingent Fact (BCCF), which would contain different contingent propositions. Let \(p\) be the BCCF of the actual world \(W\). Suppose, further, that it is possible that \(p\) has an explanation, that is, that it is possible that some proposition \(q\) explains \(p\). As such, there is a possible world \(W_{1}\) that contains \(p\), \(q\), and the proposition that \(q\) explains \(p\). The question now is whether \(W_{1}\) is the actual world, that is, whether there is a proposition \(q\) that explains \(p\) in the actual world. Gale argues that \(W_{1}\) (which contains \(q\) and the proposition that \(q\) explains \(p\)) is the actual world, for since \(W_{1}\) contains \(p\), there can be no property of \(p\) that is not found in \(W_{1}\). Every conjunct of \(p\) will be a conjunct of \(p_{1}\) (the BCCF of \(W_{1}\)) in \(W_{1}\). Suppose that \(r\) is a conjunct of \(p\) in \(W\), then not-\(r\) cannot be a conjunct of \(p_{1}\) in \(W_{1}\). Since \(W\) and \(W_{1}\) have the same properties, \(W_{1}\) is the actual world. Therefore, since these worlds are identical, the actual world contains \(p\), \(q\), and the proposition that \(q\) explains \(p\). That is, there is something that explains the BCCF of the actual world. The explanation of the BCCF cannot be scientific, for such would be in terms of law-like propositions and statements about the actual world at a given time, which would be contingent and hence part of the BCCF. Since the only explanations we can conceive of are personal or scientific, \(q\) provides a personal explanation of the BCCF in terms of the intentional action of a necessary being who freely brings it about that the world exists. \(q\) cannot report the action of a contingent being, for then the being would be part of \(p\) and explained by \(q\). However, something cannot explain itself. Hence, although contingent, \(q\) reports the action of a necessary being. Gale concludes that although this necessary being exists in every possible world, this tells little about its power, goodness, and other qualities. To make this being palatable to theists, he offers that the argument be supplemented by other arguments, such as the teleological arguments, to suggest that the necessary being is the kind of being that satisfies theistic requirements. Since

the actual world's universe displays a wondrous complexity due to its law-like unity and simplicity, fine tuning of natural constants, and natural purpose and beauty,...there exists a necessary supernatural being who is very powerful, intelligent, and good and freely creates the actual world's universe. (1999: 468-69)

(For the detailed 18 step deductive argument, see Gale and Pruss 1999: 462-69).

Several objections have been raised about the argument from the weak principle of sufficient reason. Almeida and Judisch (2002) construct their objection via two reductio arguments. They note that, according to Gale's argument, \(q\) is a contingent proposition in the actual world that reports the free, intentional action of a necessary being. As such, since the actual world contains the contingent proposition \(q\), non-\(q\) is possible. That is, there is a possible world \(W_{2}\) that contains \(p\), non-\(q\), and the proposition that \(q\) does not explain \(p\). However, by Gale's own reasoning, \(W_{2}\) is identical to the actual world. But the actual world cannot contain both \(q\) and non-\(q\). Thus, \(q\) cannot be a contingent proposition.

On the other hand, assume that \(q\) is a contingently necessary proposition, that is, that it is possible that \(q\) is necessary and possible that \(q\) is not necessary. By S5, we get that it is necessary that \(q\) is necessary, making it impossible that \(q\) is not necessary. As a result, it is both possible and not-possible that \(q\) is not necessary, which likewise shows that \(q\) cannot be a contingently necessary proposition. The only other option is that \(q\) is a necessary truth, which would beg the question. Thus, the argument fails by being unable to characterize \(q\). For rebuttals, see Gale and Pruss (2002) and Rutten (2012: 84-87, see Other Internet Resources).

Graham Oppy (2000) similarly argues that suppose \(p_1\) is the BCF of some possible world, and \(p_1\) has no explanation. Then, given \(r\) (namely, that \(p_1\) has no explanation) there is a conjunctive fact \(p_1\) and \(r\). Since by hypothesis the conjunctive fact \(p_1\) and \(r\) is true in some world, on Gale's account it is true in the actual world. Then by the weak PSR there is a world in which this conjunction of \(p_1\) and \(r\) possibly has an explanation. If there is an explanation for the conjunction of \(p_1\) and \(r\), there is an explanation for \(p_1\). Thus, we have the contradiction that \(p_1\) both has and does not have an explanation, which is absurd. Hence, no world exists where the BCF lacks an explanation, which is the strong principle of sufficient reason that Gale allegedly circumvented. Since accepting the weak PSR would commit the nontheist to the strong PSR and ultimately to a necessary being, the nontheist has no motivation to accept the weak PSR.

Gale and Pruss (2002) subsequently concede that their weak PSR does entail the strong PSR, but they contend that there still is no reason not to proceed with the weak PSR, which they think the nontheist would accept. The only grounds for rejecting it, they claim, is that it leads to a theistic conclusion, which is not an independent reason for rejecting it. Oppy, however, maintains that appealing to some initial instincts of acceptance is irrelevant. Perhaps the nontheists did not see what granting the weak PSR entailed, that it contradicted other things they had independent reasons to believe, or they did not fully understand the principle. There is a modus tollens reason to reject it, since there are other grounds for thinking that theism is false.

Jerome Gellman has argued that the Gale/Pruss conclusion to a being that is not necessarily omnipotent also fails; this being is essentially omnipotent and, if omnipotence entails omniscience, is essentially omniscient. This too Gale and Pruss concede, which means that the necessary being they conclude to is not significantly different from that arrived at by the traditional cosmological argument that appeals to the moderate version of the PSR (that contingent beings need a sufficient reason or explanation for their existence).

7. The Kalām Cosmological Argument

A second type of cosmological argument, contending for a first or beginning cause of the universe, has a venerable history, especially in the Islamic mutakalliman tradition. Although it had numerous defenders through the centuries, it received new life in the recent voluminous writings of William Lane Craig. Craig formulates the kalām cosmological argument this way (Craig and Sinclair 2009; Craig and Smith 1993: chap. 1).

1. Everything that begins to exist has a cause of its existence.

2. The universe began to exist.

3. Therefore, the universe has a cause of its existence.

4. No scientific explanation (in terms of physical laws and initial conditions of the universe) can provide a causal account of the origin (very beginning) of the universe, since such are part of the universe.

5. Therefore, the cause must be personal (explanation is given in terms of a non-natural, personal agent).

The kalām argument has been the subject of much recent debate, only some of which can be summarized here. (For greater bibliographic detail, see Craig and Sinclair 2009 and Copan and Craig, eds. 2017 & 2019.)

7.1 The Causal Principle and Quantum Physics

The basis for the argument's first premise is the Causal Principle that undergirds many cosmological arguments. (Oderberg [2002: 308] is mistaken when he tries to establish the uniqueness of the kalām argument by denying that the Causal Principle plays a role in kalām argument. It only does not play a role in supporting a particular premise in the argument.) Defenders and critics alike suggest that basing the argument on the Principle of Causation rather than on the more general Principle of Sufficient Reason is advantageous to the argument (Morriston 2000: 149). Craig holds that the first premise is intuitively obvious; no one, he says, seriously denies it (Craig, in Craig and Smith 1993: 57). Although at times Craig suggests that one might treat the principle as an empirical generalization based on our ordinary and scientific experiences (which might not be strong enough for the argument to succeed in a strong sense, although it might be supplemented by an inference to the best explanation argument that what best explains the success of science is that reality operates according to the causal principle), ultimately, he argues, the truth of the Causal Principle rests "upon the metaphysical intuition that something cannot come out of nothing" (Craig, in Craig and Smith 1993: 147). "No one sincerely believes that things, say, a horse or an Eskimo village, can just pop into being without a cause" (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 182), and this includes the universe.

The Causal Principle has been the subject of extended criticism. (We addressed objections to the Causal Principle as subsumed under the PSR from a philosophical perspective earlier in 4.4.) Some critics deny that they share Craig's intuitions about the Causal Principle (Oppy 2002). Morriston (2000) argues that, for one thing, it does not seem to be an a priori truth, for not only does it lack "a kind of 'luminosity' that makes it impossible not to believe it, but closer inspection does not make it clearer that it is true" (2000: 156-59). He points not only to the presence of serious doubters (which he thinks he should not be able to find were it truly an a priori truth), but also to quantum phenomena, and thereby joins those who raise objections to the Causal Principle based on quantum physics (Davies 1984: 200). On the quantum level, the connection between cause and effect, if not entirely broken, is to some extent loosened. For example, it appears that electrons can pass out of existence at one point and come back into existence elsewhere. One can neither trace their intermediate existence nor determine what causes them to come into existence at one point rather than another. Neither can one precisely determine or predict where they will reappear; their subsequent location is only statistically probable given what we know about their antecedent states. Hence, as Smith argues,

quantum-mechanical considerations show that the causal proposition is limited in its application, if applicable at all, and consequently that a probabilistic argument for a cause of the Big Bang cannot go through. (Smith, in Craig and Smith 1993: 121-23, 182)

Craig responds that appeals to quantum phenomena do not affect the kalām argument. For one thing, quantum events are not completely devoid of causal conditions. Even if one grants that the causal conditions are not jointly sufficient to determine the event, at least some necessary conditions are involved in the quantum event. However, when one considers the beginning of the universe, he notes, there are no prior necessary causal conditions; simply nothing exists (Craig, in Craig and Smith 1993: 146; see Koons 1997: 203). Pruss (2006: 169) contends that in quantum phenomena causal indeterminacy is compatible with the causal principle in that the causes indeterministically bring about the effect. Morriston is rightly puzzled by this reply, for, he asks, what

makes a cause out of a bunch of merely necessary conditions. Apparently not that they are jointly sufficient to produce the effect. (2000: 158)

If conditions are not jointly sufficient, is there reason to think that premise 1 is true? More recently, Craig argues that

not all physicists agree that subatomic events are uncaused.... Indeed, most of the available interpretations of the mathematical formulation of [Quantum Mechanics] are fully deterministic. (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 183. Jean Bricmont 2017, chap. 5, argues that Bohm's causally deterministic interpretation of quantum phenomena is superior to the nondeterministic interpretation.)

For another, Craig argues, a difference exists between predictability and causality. It is true that, given Heisenberg's principle of uncertainty, we cannot precisely predict individual subatomic events. What is debated is whether this inability to predict is due to the absence of sufficient causal conditions, or whether it is merely a result of the fact that any attempt to precisely measure these events alters their status. The very introduction of the observer into the arena so affects what is observed that it gives the appearance that effects occur without sufficient or determining causes. However, we have no way of knowing what is happening without introducing observers into the situation and the changes they bring. In the above example, we simply are unable to discern the intermediate states of the electron's existence apart from introducing conditions of observation. When Heisenberg's indeterminacy is understood as describing not simply the events themselves but these events relative to our knowledge of the events, the Causal Principle still holds and can still be applied to the initial singularity, although we cannot expect to achieve any kind of determinate predictability about what occurs in specific cases on the sub-atomic level given the cause.

At the same time, it should be recognized that showing that indeterminacy is a real feature of the world at the quantum level would have significant negative implications for the more general Causal Principle that underlies the deductive cosmological argument. The more this indeterminacy has ontological significance, the weaker is the Causal Principle. This is particularly important for subatomic events, which would characterize the beginning of the universe. However, if the indeterminacy has merely epistemic significance, it scarcely affects the Causal Principle. Quantum accounts allow for additional speculation regarding origins and structures of universes. In effect, whether Craig's response to the quantum objection succeeds depends upon deeper issues, in particular, the epistemic and ontological status of quantum indeterminacy, the nature of the Big Bang as a quantum phenomenon, the nature and role of indeterminate causation, and whether realist theories about quantum phenomena have serious traction. Quantum physics is murky, as evidenced by Bell's gedanken experiments, as described by Mermin (1985).

Supporting the Causal Principle, Andrew Loke (2017: chapter 5) offers a Modus Tollens argument that he thinks is immune to the criticisms in 4.4 and that responds to the suggestion that only the initial state of reality began to exist uncaused (Oppy 2015). Loke argues that (a) if x begins to exist without a causally antecedent condition, then other kinds of things that can begin to exist can do so without a causally antecedent condition, because (b) there would be no causally antecedent condition that would make it the case that only x (rather than these other kinds of things) begins to exist, and (c) the properties of x and the properties of other kinds of things that differentiate between them would be had by them only when they had already begun to exist. (b) and (c) jointly imply that there would be no essential difference between x and other kinds of things where beginning to exist uncaused is concerned. However, (d) it is not the case that other kinds of things that can begin to exist would also begin to exist without a causally antecedent condition. Therefore, (e) it is not the case that x begins to exist without a causally antecedent condition. For the critic, the critical question concerns the grounds on which (d) is true, since there is a significant difference between quantum events and nonquantum events (see the discussion of Quantum Physics above).

7.2 Impossibility of an Actual Infinite

In defense of premise 2, Craig develops both a priori and a posteriori arguments. His primary a priori argument is

1. An actual infinite cannot exist.

2. A beginningless temporal series of events is an actual infinite.

3. Therefore, a beginningless temporal series of events cannot exist.

Since conclusion 8 follows validly, if premises 6 and 7 are true the argument is sound. In defense of premise 6, he defines an actual infinite as a determinate totality that occurs when a part of a system can be put into a one-to-one correspondence with the entire system (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 104). Craig argues that if actual infinites that neither increase nor decrease in the number of members they contain were to really exist, rather absurd consequences would result. For example, imagine a library with an actually infinite number of books. Suppose that the library also contains an infinite number of red and an infinite number of black books, so that for every red book there is a black book, and vice versa. It follows that the library contains as many red books as the total books in its collection and as many red books as red and black books combined. However, this is absurd; in reality the subset cannot be equivalent to the entire set. Likewise, in a real library by removing a certain number of books we reduce the overall collection. However, if infinites are actual, a library with an infinite number of books would not be reduced in size at all by removal of a specific number of books (short of all of them or all but a specific number), for example, all the red books or those with even catalogue numbers (Craig and Smith 1993: 11-16). The absurdities resulting from attempting to apply basic arithmetical operations, functional in the real world, to infinities suggest that although actual infinites can have an ideal existence, they cannot really exist.

Craig's point is this. Two sets \(A\) and \(B\) are the same size just in case they can be put into one-to-one correspondence, that is, if and only if every member of \(A\) can be correlated with exactly one member of \(B\) in such a way that no member of \(B\) is left out. In the case of infinite sets, this notion of "same size" yields results like the following: the set of all natural numbers (let this be \(A\)) is the same size as the set of squares of natural numbers (\(B\)), since every member of \(A\) can be correlated with exactly one member of \(B\) in a way that leaves out no member of \(B\) (correlate \(0\leftrightarrow 0\), \(1\leftrightarrow1\), \(2\leftrightarrow4\), \(3\leftrightarrow9\), \(4\leftrightarrow 16\),...). This is a case-recognized in fact as early as Galileo ( Dialogues Concerning Two New Sciences)-where two infinite sets have the same size but, intuitively, one of them, as a proper subset, appears to be smaller than the other.

Craig uses a similar, intuitive notion of "smaller than" in his argument concerning the library. It appears that the set \(B\) of red books in the library is smaller than the set \(A\) of all the books in the library, even though both have the same (infinite) size. Craig concludes that it is absurd to suppose that such a library is possible in actuality, since the set of red books would simultaneously have to be smaller than the set of all books and yet equal in size.

Critics fail to be convinced by these paradoxes of infinity. For example, Rundle (2004: 170) agrees with Craig that the concept of an actual infinite is paradoxical, but this, he argues, provides no grounds for thinking it is incoherent. The logical problems with the actual infinite are not problems of incoherence but arise from the features that are characteristic of infinite sets. When the intuitive notion of "smaller than" is replaced by a precise definition, finite sets and infinite sets just behave somewhat differently, that is all. Cantor and all subsequent set theorists define a set \(B\) to be smaller than set \(A\) (i.e., has fewer members) just in case \(B\) is the same size as a subset of \(A\), but \(A\) is not the same size as any subset of \(B\). The application of this definition to finite and infinite sets yields results that Craig finds counter-intuitive but which mathematicians see as our best understanding for comparing the size of sets. They see the fact that an infinite set can be put into one-to-one correspondence with one of its own proper subsets as one of the defining characteristics of an infinite set, not an absurdity. Say that set \(C\) is a proper subset of \(A\) just in case every element of \(C\) is an element of \(A\) while \(A\) has some element that is not an element of \(C\). In finite sets, but not necessarily in infinite sets, when set \(B\) is a proper subset of \(A\), \(B\) is smaller than \(A\). However, this does not necessarily hold for infinite sets-as above where \(B\) is the set of squares of natural numbers and \(A\) is the set of all natural numbers. The proper subset \(B\) might be "smaller" than \(A\). What is crucial is that \(B\) is not smaller in the sense of having a smaller number of members than \(A\) (i.e., a smaller cardinality).

Cantorian mathematicians argue that these results apply to any infinite set, whether in pure mathematics, imaginary libraries, or the real world series of concrete events. Thus, Smith argues that Craig begs the question by wrongly presuming that an intuitive relationship holds between finite sets and their proper subsets, namely, that a set has more members than its proper subsets must hold even in the case of infinite sets (Smith, in Craig and Smith 1993: 85). So while Craig thinks that Cantor's set theoretic definitions yield absurdities when applied to the world of concrete objects, which entails that infinites cannot be actual, set theorists see no problem so long as the proper definitions are maintained. Further discussion is in Oppy 2006: 137-54.

Loke (2017: 55-61; see Craig and Sinclair, 2009: 105-6) replies to the above objections by arguing that what is mathematically possible is not always metaphysically possible. For example, the quadratic equation \(x^2=4\) can have two mathematically consistent results for \(x\): 2 or −2, but if the question is "how many people carried the box home", the answer cannot be −2, for in the concrete world it is metaphysically impossible that −2 people carry a box home. Thus, the conclusion of 2 people rather than −2 people derives not from mathematical equations alone but also from metaphysical considerations. Loke proceeds to argue that concrete infinities violate metaphysically necessary truths concerning causal powers.

Craig is well aware of the fact that he is using actual and potential infinite in a way that differs from the traditional usage in Aristotle and Aquinas [Craig and Sinclair 2009: 115. For Aristotle, all the elements in an actual infinite exist simultaneously, whereas a potential infinite is realized over time by addition or division. Hence, the temporal series of events, as formed by successively adding new events, was a potential, not an actual, infinite (Aristotle, Physics, III, 6)]. For Craig, however, an actual infinite is a timeless totality that cannot be added to or reduced. "Since past events, as determinate parts of reality, are definite and distinct and can be numbered, they can be conceptually collected into a totality" (Craig, in Craig and Smith 1993: 25). The future, but not the past, is a potential infinite, for its events have not yet happened.

Turning to premise 7, why should one think that it is true that a beginningless series, such as the universe up to this point, is an actual rather than a potential infinite? For Craig, an actual infinite is a determinate totality or a completed unity, whereas the potential infinite is not. Since the past events of a beginningless series can be conceptually collected together and numbered, the series is a determinate totality (1979: 96-97). And since the past is beginningless, it has no starting point and is infinite. If the universe had a starting point, so that events were added to or subtracted from this point, we would have a potential infinite that increased through time by adding new members. The fact that the events do not occur simultaneously is irrelevant.

Bede Rundle rejects an actual infinite. His grounds for doing so (the symmetry of the past and the future), if sustained, make premise 7 false. He argues that the reasons often advanced for asymmetry, such as those given by Craig, are faulty. It is true that the past is not actual, but neither is the future. Likewise, that the past, having occurred, is unalterable is irrelevant, for neither is the future alterable. The only time that is real is the present.

For Rundle, the past and the future are symmetrical; it is only our knowledge of them that is asymmetrical. Any future event lies at a finite temporal distance from the present. Similarly, any past event lies at a finite temporal distance from the present. For each past or future event, beginning from the present, there can always be either a prior past event or a subsequent future event. Hence, for both series an infinity of events is possible, and, as symmetrical, the infinity of both series is the same. Since the series of future events is not an actual but a potential infinite (or, better, an "indefinitely extendible" series, 2004: 168; Craig and Sinclair 2012, 104-5), the series of past events is also indefinitely extendible. It follows that although the future is actually finite, it does not require an end to the universe, for there is always a possible subsequent event (2004: 180). Similarly, although any given past event of the universe is finitely distant in time from now, a beginning or initial event can be ruled out; for any given event there is a possible earlier event. However, since there is a possible prior or possible posterior event in any past or future series respectively, the universe, although finite in time, is temporally unbounded (indefinitely extendible); both beginning and cessation are ruled out. [How Rundle (2004: 176-78) gets from the possibility of a subsequent event to actually ruling out cessation and beginning is unclear.] Since there is no time when the material universe did not exist, it is not contingent but necessary. Hence, although the principle of sufficient reason is still true, it applies only to the components of the material universe and not to the universe itself. No explanation of the universe is possible. The universe, as matter-energy, is neither caused nor destructible, not in the sense that it could have been caused or could cease, but in the sense that "the notions of beginning and ceasing to exist are inapplicable to the universe" (2004: 178).

However, one might wonder, are the past series and future series of events really symmetrical? It is true that one can start from the present and count either forward or backward in time. Rundle thinks that ...\(x_5\), \(x_4\), \(x_3\), \(x_2\), \(x_1\), \(t_0\), \(y_1\), \(y_2\), \(y_3\), \(y_4\), \(y_5\) are all on the same continuum, so that we cannot distinguish ontologically the time dimension of the future and past series. The two series, going into the past and into the future, would be the same in that however far we count from the present \(t_0\) remains finite although indefinitely extendible. However, is it true that, as he claims, with regard to the past, "any movement currently terminating can be redescribed as extending back", that counting backward from the present is the same as counting from the past to the present (2004: 176)?

Craig says no, for in the actual world we do not start from now to arrive at the past; we move from the past to the present. To count backwards, we would start from a particular point in time, the present. From where would we start to count forward were the past indefinitely extendible? Both to count and to move from the past to the present, we cannot start from the indefinitely extendible. Indeed, if the past is indefinitely extendible, no matter where we started, we would have arrived at \(t_0\) long before now.

One cannot just reverse the temporal sequence of the past, for we do not ontologically engage the sequence from the present to the past. Rundle's two movements are quite disparate, such that the two sequences-of the past and of the future-are not symmetrical, which leaves intact Craig's claim that a beginningless past would result in an actual and not a potential infinite.

Morriston (2010) constructs an argument to show that, contrary to Craig, there is no relevant difference between a beginningless past and a determinate, endless future, such that if one is impossible because of absurdities so is the other, and if one is possible so is the other. He creates a fictional scenario where God commands angels Gabriel and Uriel to praise God alternatively for an eternity.

If you ask, "How many distinct praises will be said?", the only sensible answer is, "infinitely many.... Each of infinitely many distinct praises will be said, precisely because there will be no future time at which all have been said ". (Morriston 2010: 443-44)

However, an actually infinite number of future events is not impossible; it can be envisioned and determined by God.

Morriston proceeds to note that puzzles or absurdities parallel to those Craig finds in the concept of an actual infinite of past events also occur in the infinite series of future events. Suppose that

God could instead have determined that Gabriel and Uriel will stop after praise number four. Infinitely many praises would be prevented, and the number of their future praises would be only four. Alternatively, God could have determined that Gabriel be silent during all the celestial minutes between Uriel's future praises. In this case too, infinitely many praises would be prevented, but the number of future praises would instead be infinite. (Morriston 2010: 444)

Although this shows that an infinite future can have inconsistent implications, God could still bring it about that these angels utter distinct praises, one after another, ad infinitum. But then, Morriston concludes, since these inconsistent implications do not count against an actual infinity of future events, the puzzles Craig poses do not count against the possibility of an actual infinity of past events, i.e., a beginningless universe. If an infinite future is possible, as Craig concedes, so is an infinite past.

Morriston contends that Craig's reply that in the one case the events have occurred and in the other they have not, and hence that the number of future praises is indefinite, is a distinction without a difference. God can determine that an infinite number of praises will be sung.

The non-existence of past events does not prevent us from asking how many have occurred. Nor should the non-existence of future events prevent us from asking how many will occur. In neither case will "indefinitely many" do as an answer. (2010: 449)

Craig's defense is that Morriston has ignored the difference between a potential and an actual infinite. According to Craig, an actual infinite is a collection of definite and discrete members whose number is greater than any natural number, whereas a potential infinite is a collection that is increasing toward but never arriving at infinity as a limit (Craig 2010; Craig and Sinclair 2009: 116).

Morriston objects to Craig's definition of the potential infinite. For one thing, there is no limit to which the future praises grow. The collection of praises continues to grow as the praises are sung, but it does not approach a limit, for always one more praise can be sung. The series of future praises is actually infinite.

Craig responds that Morriston is really attacking his notion of a potential infinite by claiming that no relevant distinction exists between a potential and an actual infinite. But this, he says, rests on confusing an A-theory with a B-theory of time. An infinite directed toward the future would be actual only on a B-theory of time, but not on an A-theory (Craig 2010: 452-53). On an A-theory of time, a change of tense makes a difference. That something actually has happened differs significantly from what may (even if determined) happen.

Cohen (2015: 177) continues Morriston's argument, insisting that Craig invokes an unmotivated principle that Cohen terms the "The Actuality-Infinity Principle: In order for x to be actually infinite in quantity, x must be actual". Cohen argues that this begs the question. However, Craig's principle is different: In order for x to be actually infinite in quantity, x must be or have been actual or actualized (Craig 2010: 455-56). Cohen might respond, "Why not then say that for x to be actually infinite in quality x must be, have been, or will be actual or actualized?" Cohen argues that Craig's presentism does not assist him here, since neither the past nor the future events are present and hence do not exist. Craig thinks otherwise (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 126), tacitly defending the principle in that temporal becoming sees to it that what has not occurred or is not occurring but as future is merely potential, even if determined or foreseen by God.

7.3 Successive Addition Cannot Form an Actual Infinite

Craig's second argument addresses this very point.

1. The temporal series of events is a collection formed by successive addition.

2. A collection formed by successive synthesis is not an actual infinite.

3. Therefore, the temporal series of events cannot be an actual infinite (Craig 1979: 103; Craig and Sinclair 2009, 117).

The collection of historical events is formed by successively adding events, one following another. The events are not temporally simultaneous but occur over a period of time as the series continues to acquire new members. Even if an actual infinite were possible, it could not be realized by successive addition; in adding to the series, no matter how much adding is done, even to infinity, the series remains finite and only potentially infinite. One can neither count to nor traverse the infinite (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 118).

It might be objected that this sounds very much like Zeno's paradoxes that prohibit Achilles or anyone from either beginning to cross an area or succeeding in doing so. However, notes Craig, significant disanalogies disallow this conclusion. For one, Zeno's argument rests on progressively-narrowing, unequal distances that sum to a finite distance, whereas in traversing the past the equal distances continue to the infinity of the future. Second, Zeno's distances are potential because of divisibility, whereas the distances from the past are actual distances or times to be traversed.

Morriston argues that premise 10 presupposes what is to be shown, namely, that there is a beginning point. He asks,

Why couldn't there have been an infinite series of years in which there was no first year? It's true that in such a series we never "arrive" at infinity, but surely that is only because infinity is, so to speak, "always already there". At every point in such a series, infinitely many years have already passed by.... Each event in a beginningless series terminating in the present could have been "added" to the infinitely many prior events. (2003: 290)

Thus, we don't need a starting point to form an actual infinite by successive addition. Infinity is already present in the series.

Craig responds that we cannot just add "arriving at the present" to an already existing infinite.

Before the present event could occur, the event immediately before it would have to occur; and before that event could occur, the event immediately before it would have to occur; and so on ad infinitum. One gets driven back into the past, making it impossible for any event to occur. Thus, if the series of events were beginningless, the present could not have occurred, which is absurd. (Craig and Sinclair 209: 118)

In other words, Why this moment rather than another?

Morriston replies that that is just the way it is; "the past just is the series of events that have already happened". To require a reason for the series of past events arriving at now is to appeal to the principle of sufficient reason, which he deems both suspect and inappropriate for Craig to invoke (Morriston 2003: 293).

To defend his position, Craig presents Bertrand Russell's example of Tristram Shandy, who writes his autobiography. It takes him a year to write about one day of his life, so that as his life progresses so does his autobiography in which he gets progressively farther behind. Russell concludes that

if (Shandy) had lived forever, and had not wearied of his task, then, even if his life had continued as eventfully as it began, no part of his biography would have remained unwritten. ([1903] 1937: 358)

However, Oderberg (2002: 310) claims, Russell seems to have fallaciously moved from (1) For every day, there is a year such that, by the end of that year, Shandy has recorded that day, which is true, to (2) There is a year such that, for every day, by the end of that year Shandy has recorded that day. (2) is needed for Russell's conclusion but fails to follow from (1). Shandy's writing never catches up with his life; indeed, the longer he lives, even if for infinity, his writing would never catch up to his life but progressively would get farther behind. Indeed, if he has been living and writing from infinity, his autobiography is infinitely behind his life. Contrary to Russell, there will be days-an infinite number-about which he will be unable to write. As can be imagined, this example has been greatly contested, modified, and has generated a literature of its own. For samples, see Eells (1988), Oderberg (2002), and Oppy (2003). Waters (2013) reformulates the paradox, attempting to avoid problems with earlier formulations.

Finally, it is objected that Craig's argument presupposes an \(A\) view of time, where time flows from past to present to future and not all events tenselessly coexist. It seems that Craig's argument cannot be sustained if time is understood in the \(B\) sense, where all members of the series tenselessly coexist, being equally real (Grünbaum 1994). On a \(B\) view of time there is no beginning, and it would seem that on this view the argument would collapse.

7.4 The Big Bang Theory of Cosmic Origins

One of Craig and Sinclair's a posteriori arguments for premise 2 invokes the Big Bang theory of cosmic origins. Since the universe is expanding as the galaxies recede from each other, if we reverse the direction of our view and look back in time, the farther we look, the denser the universe becomes. If we push backwards far enough, we find that the universe reaches a state of compression where the density and gravitational force are infinite. This unique singularity constitutes the beginning of the universe-of matter, energy, space, time, and all physical laws. It is not that the universe arose out of some prior state, for there was no prior state. Since time too comes to be, one cannot ask what happened before the initial event. Neither should one think that the universe expanded from some state of infinite density into space; space too came to be in that event. Since the Big Bang initiates the very laws of physics, one cannot expect any scientific or physical explanation of this singularity.

One picture, then, is of the universe beginning in a singular, non-temporal event roughly 13-14 billion years ago. Something, perhaps a quantum vacuum, came into existence. Its tremendous energy caused it, in the first fractions of a second, to expand or inflate and explode, creating the four-dimensional space-time universe that we experience today. How this all happened in the first \(10^{-35}\) seconds and subsequently is a matter of serious speculation and debate. What advocates of premise 2 maintain is that since the universe and all its material elements originate in the Big Bang, the universe is temporally finite and thus had a beginning. (For a detailed consideration of cosmogenic theories from the kalām perspective, see Craig and Sinclair 2009: 125-182; for the counter discussion see Grünbaum 1991). By itself, of course, this reasoning, even if accurate, leaves it the case that premise 2 and hence conclusion 3 are only probably true, dependent on accepted cosmogenic theories.

Several replies to this argument can be made. First, questions have been raised about the adequacy of the theory of inflation to explain the expansion of the universe. One problem is predictability, for on this view anything that can happen will happen, an infinite number of times (Steinhardt 2011: 42). Further, the argument presupposes that the General Theory of Relativity applies to the beginning of the universe, but some doubt that this is so, given that it cannot adequately account for the quantum gravity involved.

Second, some have suggested that since we cannot "exclude the possibility of a prior phase of existence" (Silk 2001: 63), it is possible that the universe has cycled through oscillations, perhaps infinitely, so that Big Bangs occurred not once but an infinite number of times in the past and will do so in the future. The current universe is a "reboot" of previous universes that have expanded and then contracted (Musser 2004).

The traditional idea of an oscillating universe faced significant problems. For one, no set of physical laws accounts for a series of cyclical universe-collapses and re-explosions. That the universe once exploded into existence provides no evidence that the event could reoccur even once, let alone an infinite number of times, should the universe collapse. Second, even an oscillating universe seems to be finite (Smith, in Craig and Smith 1993: 113). Further, the cycle of collapses and expansions would not, as was pictured, be periodic (of even duration). Rather, entropy would rise from cycle to cycle, so that even were a series of universe-oscillations possible, they would become progressively longer (Davies 1992: 52; Tolman 1934). If the universe were without beginning, by now that cycle would be infinite in duration, without any hope of contraction. Fourth, although each recollapse would destroy the components of the universe, the radiation would remain, so that each successive cycle would add to the total.

Responding to these issues, recently proposed cosmologies based on string theory have given new life to a cyclic view. For example, Paul Steinhardt and Neil Turok have proposed a cyclic cosmological model where the universe repeatedly transitions from a big bang to a big crunch to a big bang, and so on. They contend that

the Universe is flat, rather than closed. The transition from expansion to contraction is caused by introducing negative potential energy, rather than spatial curvature. Furthermore, the cyclic behavior depends in an essential way on having a period of accelerated expansion after the radiation and matter-dominated phases. During the accelerated expansion phase, the Universe approaches a nearly vacuous state, restoring very nearly identical local conditions as existed in the previous cycle prior to the contraction phase. (Steinhardt and Turok 2002: 2)

Dark energy becomes a key player in all of this. On the kalām view, the amount of dark energy in the universe makes a return to its original state impossible. The universe is not cyclical but will die a cold death. On a cyclic view, dark energy accelerates the expansion of the universe needed "to dilute the entropy, black holes and other debris produced in the previous cycle so that the universe is returned to its original pristine vacuum state before it begins to contract, bounce, and begin a cycle anew" (Steinhardt and Turok 2001: 1436).

This specific cyclic theory has been challenged, and other cyclic cosmological theories have been proposed. What this shows is that any attempt to support the second premise of the kalām argument by accepting or refuting scientific cosmologies will encounter an ever-changing scene, given the speculative nature of cosmology. Thus, while Craig and Sinclair (2009: 150-74) critically evaluate current contenders as not being viable, changes in and development of these theories and the inevitable development of others make for unending point-counterpoint.

7.5 The Big Bang Is Not an Event

One critical response to the kalām argument from the Big Bang is that, given the Grand Theory of Relativity, the Big Bang is not an event at all. An event takes place within a space-time context. However, the Big Bang has no space-time context; there is neither time prior to the Big Bang nor a space in which the Big Bang occurs. Hence, the Big Bang cannot be considered as a physical event occurring at a moment of time. As Hawking notes, the finite universe has no space-time boundaries and hence lacks singularity and a beginning (Hawking 1988: 116, 136). Time might be multi-dimensional or imaginary, in which case one asymptotically approaches a beginning singularity but never reaches it. And without a beginning the universe requires no cause. The best one can say is that the universe is finite with respect to the past, not that it was an event with a beginning. (Rundle 2004: chap. 8.)

Grünbaum defends this position by arguing that events can only result from other events.

Since the Big Bang singularity is technically a non-event, and \(t=0\) is not a bona fide time of its occurrence, the singularity cannot be the effect of any cause in the case of either event-causation or agent causation alike.... The singularity \(t=0\) cannot have a cause. (Grünbaum 1994; Rundle 2004: 168, writes, "[T]here is no event-the beginning of the universe-to be explained, events being possible only in time")

One response to Grünbaum's objection is to opt for broader notions of "event" and "cause". We might broaden the notion of "event" by removing the requirement that it must be relational, taking place in a space-time context. In the Big Bang the space-time universe commences and then continues to exist in measurable time subsequent to the initiating singularity (Silk 2001: 456). Thus, one might consider the Big Bang as either the event of the commencing of the universe or else a state in which "any two points in the observable universe were arbitrarily close together" (Silk 2001: 63). As such, one might inquire why this initial state of the universe existed in the finite past. Likewise, one need not require that causation embody the Humean condition of temporal priority, but may treat causation counter-factually, or perhaps even, as traditionally, a relation of production. Any causal statement about the universe would have to be expressed atemporally, but for the theist this presents no problem provided that God is conceived atemporally (at least prior to creation) and sense can be made of atemporal causation.

Furthermore, suppose Grünbaum is correct that the Big Bang singularity is not an event. Then, by his reasoning that events only arise from other events, subsequent so-called events cannot be the effect of that singularity. If they were, they would not be events either.

Given this understanding of space/time, we might reconceive the kalām argument.

1. If something has a finite past, its existence has a cause.

2. The universe has a finite past.

3. Therefore, the universe has a cause of its existence.

4. The universe includes space-time.

5. Therefore, the cause of the universe transcends space-time (in the sense that it existed aspatially and, when there was no universe, atemporally).

6. If the cause of the universe's existence transcends space-time, no scientific explanation can provide a causal account of the origin of the universe.

7. If no scientific explanation can provide a causal account of the origin of the universe, the cause must be personal (explanation is given in terms of a personal agent).

8. Therefore, a personal cause of the universe exists.

Some critics see a problem with this reformulation of the kalām argument in premise 12. Whereas behind premise 1 of the original argument lies the ancient Parmenidean contention that out of nothing nothing comes, it is alleged that no principle directly connects finitude with causation. They contend that we have no reason to think that just because something is finite it must have a cause of its coming into existence. Theists respond that this objection has merit only if the critic denies that the Principle of Causation is true or that it applies to events like the Big Bang.

Grünbaum (1991) also argues that defenders of the kalām argument cannot make sense of the claim that the universe began to exist.

The question of its beginning is not, "If the universe did have a bounded past of finite duration, what was the cause of its initial event \(t=0\)?" There simply did not exist any instants of time before \(t=0\)!

One simply cannot ask what happened before \(t=0\); the question makes no sense. And if we cannot ask that question, then we cannot inquire whether the Big Bang was an effect, for nothing temporal preceded it. Questions about creation occur in time in the universe, not outside of it (Hawking 1987: 650-51).

Grünbaum's contention is that to begin to exist requires a previous time, and that there was no time prior to the Big Bang.

[T]here is no first instant of time at all, just as there is no leftmost point on an infinite Euclidean line that extends in both directions. Since here as elsewhere, the term 'always' refers to all actual past instants of time, the non-existence of time before \(t=0\) ... allows that matter has always existed, despite the finitude of the age of the universe in both sets of models. (1991)

However, as Craig observes, the series is finite, not infinite, even though it includes all past instants of time. Beginning to exist does not entail that one has a beginning point in time. Craig defines "\(x\) begins to exist" as "\(x\) exists at \(t\) and there is no time immediately prior to \(t\) at which \(x\) exists" (1992: 238).

Something has a beginning just in case the time during which it has existed is finite.... So understood, deleting the beginning point of a thing's existence does not imply that the thing no longer begins to exist and therefore came into being uncaused. (Craig and Sinclair 2009: 185)

Morriston (2000) suggests that this analysis of the universe's coming to be no longer adequately supports premise 1, for we have no reason to think that something could not just come into existence. Any appeal to ex nihilo nihil fit is either tautologous with the first premise or else appears mistakenly to treat nihilo as if it were "a condition of something". In part, what Morriston rejects is the intuitiveness that Craig sees in the truth of premise 1, where "beginning to exist" is understood as explicated as above (see our discussion in 7.1). It is not that premise 1 is false; it is just that it is unsupported and hence loses its plausibility. It has the same plausibility (or implausibility) as creation ex nihilo. Morriston thinks that premise 1 fares equally poorly if Craig attempts to justify it empirically, for we have many situations where the causes of events have not been discovered, and even if we could find the causes in each individual case, it provides no evidence that causation applies to the totality of cases (the universe). (See our discussion of this argument in 4.2 and 4.3 above.) Indeed, he argues, the inductive generalization involved in defending the causal principle stands at odds with similar inductive generalizations that conflict with the kalām argument-that something can be made without there being a prior stuff or that causes can bear no temporal relation to their effects.

7.6 Personal Explanation

Finally, something needs to be said about premise 3 and conclusion 5, which asserts that the cause of the universe is personal. Defenders of the cosmological argument suggest two possible kinds of explanation. Natural explanation is provided in terms of precedent events, causal laws, or necessary conditions that invoke natural existents. Personal explanation is given "in terms of the intentional action of a rational agent" (Swinburne 2004: 21; also Gale and Pruss 1999). We have seen that one cannot provide a natural causal explanation for the initial event, for there are no precedent natural events or natural existents to which the laws of physics apply. The line of scientific explanation runs out at the initial singularity, and perhaps even before we arrive at the initial singularity (at \(10^{-35}\) seconds). If no scientific explanation (in terms of physical laws) can provide a causal account of the origin of the universe (premise 4), the explanation must be personal, that is, in terms of the intentional action of an intelligent, supernatural agent.

Morriston (2000: 163-68) questions whether Craig's argument for the cause being personal goes through. Craig argues that if the cause were an eternal, nonpersonal, operating set of conditions, then the universe would exist from eternity. Below freezing temperatures will always freeze whatever water is present. Since the universe has not existed from eternity, the cause must be a personal agent who chooses freely to create an effect in time. However, notes Morriston, if the personal cause intended from eternity to create the world, and if the intention alone to create is causally sufficient to bring about the effect, then the universe would also exist from eternity, and there would be no reason to prefer a personal cause of the universe over a nonpersonal cause. For a timeless eternal being before creation, which is Craig's view, "There can be no temporal gap between the time at which it does the willing and the time at which the thing willed actually happens" (2000, 167). So the distinction in this respect between a personal and a nonpersonal eternal cause disappears. Craig (2002) replies that it is not intention alone that must be present, but the personal agent must also employ or exercise its personal causal power to bring about the world. However, Morriston retorts, exercising personal causal power is an action in time, a view that is unavailable to Craig, for there is no time when God would restrain his causal powers.

Paul Davies argues that one need not appeal to God to account for the Big Bang. Its cause, he suggests, is found within the cosmic system itself. Originally a vacuum lacking space-time dimensions, the universe "found itself in an excited vacuum state", a "ferment of quantum activity, teeming with virtual particles and full of complex interactions" (Davies 1984: 191-92), which, subject to a cosmic repulsive force, resulted in an immense increase in energy. Subsequent explosions from this collapsing vacuum released the energy in this vacuum, reinvigorating the cosmic inflation and setting the scenario for the subsequent expansion of the universe. However, what is the origin of this increase in energy that eventually made the Big Bang possible? Davies's response is that the law of conservation of energy (that the total quantity of energy in the universe remains fixed despite transfer from one form to another), which now applies to our universe, did not apply to the initial expansion. Cosmic repulsion in the vacuum caused the energy to increase from zero to an enormous amount. This great explosion released energy, from which all matter emerged. Consequently, he contends, since the conclusion of the kalām argument is false, one of the premises of the argument-in all likelihood the first-is false.

Craig responds that if the vacuum has energy, the question arises concerning the origin of the vacuum and its energy. Merely pushing the question of the beginning of the universe back to some primordial quantum vacuum does not escape the question of what brought this vacuum laden with energy into existence. A quantum vacuum is not nothing (as in Newtonian physics) but

a sea of continually forming and dissolving particles that borrow energy from the vacuum for their brief existence. A quantum vacuum is thus far from nothing, and vacuum fluctuations do not constitute an exception to the principle that whatever beings to exist has a cause. (Craig, in Craig and Smith 1993: 143-44)

Hence, he concludes, the appeal to a vacuum as the initial state is misleading.

One might wonder, as Rundle (2004: 75-77) does, how a supernatural agent could bring about the universe. He contends that a personal agent (God) cannot be the cause because intentional agency needs a body and actions occur within space-time. However, acceptance of the cosmological argument does not depend on an explanation of the manner of causation by a necessary being. When we explain that the girl raised her hand because she wanted to ask a question, we can accept that she was the cause of the raised hand without understanding how her wanting to ask a question brought about her raising her hand. As Swinburne notes, an event is "fully explained when we have cited the agent, his intention that the event occur, and his basic powers" that include the ability to bring about events of that sort (2004: 36). Similarly, theists argue, we may never know why and how creation took place. Nevertheless, we may accept it as an explanation in the sense that we can say that God created that initial event, that he had the intention to do so, and that such an event lies within the power of an omniscient and almighty being; not having a body is irrelevant.

The issues raised by the kalām argument concern not only the nature of explanation and when an explanation is necessary, but even whether an explanation of the universe is possible (given the above discussion). Whereas all agree that it makes no sense to ask about what occurs before the Big Bang (since there was no prior time) or about something coming out of nothing, the dispute rests on whether there needs to be a cause of the first natural existent, whether something like the universe can be finite and yet not have a beginning, and crucially the nature of infinities and their connection with reality.

8. An Inductive Cosmological Argument

Richard Swinburne contends that the cosmological argument is not deductively valid; if it were,

it would be incoherent to assert that a complex physical universe exists and that God does not exist. There would be a hidden contradiction buried in such co-assertions.... [A]ttempts to derive obviously incoherent propositions from such co-assertions have failed through commission of some elementary logical error. (2004: 136)

Swinburne is correct that if someone believes that a deductive cosmological argument (proof) for God's existence is sound, then it would be incoherent for that same person to then deny that God exists. However, in their respective proofs defenders of the deductive cosmological arguments make a claim about incoherence, namely, that it would be contradictory for the same person to affirm the premises of the argument and to claim that God or a personal necessary being does not exist. And they believe both that the respective premises have the intuitiveness that Swinburne deems necessary and that the argument has not committed some "elementary error of logic".

Has Swinburne shown incoherence? Whereas propositions are true and deductive arguments are valid independent of anyone's beliefs that they are true and valid (the proposition that the earth orbits the sun is true regardless of whether anyone believes it), the acceptance of premises as true, of deductive arguments as valid, and of an argument's use as a proof is not independent of those same beliefs. An argument that one person takes as being sound another might believe not to be sound, in that the person rejects one or more of the premises or holds that the conclusions fail to properly follow; arguments are person-relative in their persuasive value or assessment of coherence. Swinburne himself notes that arguments of coherence and incoherence are persuasive only to the extent that someone accepts other statements inherent to the proof as coherent or incoherent and that one statement entails another (1993: 39). Elsewhere Swinburne admits to having

some doubt about whether men have enough initial consensus about what is coherent and what entails what, are clever enough and have enough imagination to reach agreed proofs which would settle all disputes about whether a statement is coherent or incoherent. (1993: 45)

As such, Swinburne cannot so easily dismiss deductive cosmological arguments, although he is justified in wondering whether "reasons less strong than compelling proofs can be given for thinking some statements coherent and others incoherent" (1993: 45).

In place of a deductive argument, Swinburne develops an inductive cosmological argument that appeals to the inference to the best explanation. Swinburne distinguishes between two varieties of inductive arguments: those that show that the conclusion is more probable than not (what he terms a correct P-inductive argument) and those that further increase the probability of the conclusion (what he terms a correct C-inductive argument). In The Existence of God (1979) he presents a cosmological argument that he claims falls in the category of C-inductive arguments. However, for him this argument is part of a larger, cumulative case for a P-inductive argument for God's existence that includes as its evidence the orderliness of the universe, the existence of consciousness, miracle reports, and religious experience.

Swinburne notes that "a cosmological argument argues that the fact that there is a universe needs explaining" (2004: 9-10). However, he emphasizes that his approach differs from those we have already considered in that he rejects the Principle of Sufficient Reason understood as "everything not 'metaphysically necessary' has an explanation in something 'metaphysically necessary'" (2004: 148), for the PSR leads, as it does in Leibniz, to a being that is logically necessary, and such a being cannot explain the logically contingent. From the logically necessary only the logically necessary follows. In place of using the PSR to construct a deductive argument, he employs a "basic theorem of confirmation theory", Bayes' Theorem, to construct an inductive argument (2004: 67). (In making this claim about the need for an explanation of the universe, however, it is hard not to see that he invokes some formulation of the PSR.)

Swinburne begins his discussion with the existence of a physical universe that (a) contains odd events that cannot be fitted into the established pattern of scientific explanation (e.g., miracles, the appearance of conscious beings), (b) is too big in that science cannot explain why there are states of affairs at all or why the fundamental natural laws to which science appeals to explain things hold, and (c) is complex (its matter-energy has relevant powers) (2004: 74, 150).

It is not logically necessary that the existence of the universe needs explanation; we could accept this universe as a brute, inexplicable fact, but Swinburne thinks that to do so fails to accord with the example of the sciences, which seek the best explanation for any given phenomena. Since "it is reasonable to suppose" that there is an explanation (2004: 75), the issue, then, is which view is more reasonable: that science can provide a natural explanation for the existence of this universe, or whether the universe and its phenomena exist because of the intentional, causal activity of a personal being whose existence also is a brute fact.

To find the explanatory hypothesis most likely to be true, especially about something that might be unobservable, he claims to follow the example of science. Using Bayes' Theorem, he looks for a hypothesis \(h\) such that \(p(e\mid h \amp k) \gt p(e\mid k)\) where \(p\) is probability, \(e\) is the existence of a complex universe, and \(k\) is the background data. A hypothesis is more likely to be true (1) in so far as it has high explanatory power, in that it makes probable the evidence of the observation; this may be predictive but can be postdictive as well (Swinburne 1996: 34, 2001: 80-81), and insofar as the evidence is very un likely to occur if the hypothesis is false. And (2), it has a greater prior probability. The prior probability of a hypothesis encompasses three features: (a) how well it fits with our background knowledge (2001: 81). The broader the scope, the less relevant this criterion becomes (2004: 60). Since there are no "neighboring fields of inquiry related to the origin of the universe", Swinburne treats this condition in the cosmological argument as irrelevant or reducing to the feature of simplicity (1996: 29). (b) The scope of the hypothesis (the extent of its claims)-the broader the scope, the less likely it is to be true. For example, all crows are black is less likely to be true than all crows along the upper Mississippi River are black. Since both scientific naturalism and theism have the same scope-explaining the universe, this does not factor into his calculations for explaining the complex universe (2001: 82); and (c) simplicity, which for Swinburne holds the key (2001: 82-83).

He holds that we are looking for a complete explanation, where

we may reasonably conclude that the criteria for supposing that factors have no further explanation (scientific or personal) in terms of factors acting at the time and so that any explanation is a complete explanation over all (not just a complete explanation within scientific or within personal explanation) are that any attempt to go beyond the factors that we have would result in no gain of explanatory power or prior probability. (2004: 89)

A scientific explanation fails to give a complete explanation. It leaves us not with a simple but with a very complex explanatory hypothesis, in that "ultimate explanation stops at innumerable, different stopping points, many of them ... having exactly the same powers and liabilities as each other" (1996: 42). It presents us with the brute fact of the existence of the universe, not an explanation for it. It explains in terms of a full cause the events at any moment, but it cannot provide a complete explanation of the universe, "for there are no physical causes apart from the universe itself and parts thereof" (1984: 144).

On the other hand, a personal explanation, given in terms of the intentional actions of a person, is simpler and no explanatory power is lost. Further, a personal explanation can be understood, as in the case of explaining basic actions, without knowing or understanding any of the natural causal conditions that enable one to bring it about. In the case of the cosmological argument, personal explanation is couched in terms of a being that has beliefs, purposes, and intentions, and possesses both the power to bring about the complex universe and a possible reason for doing so.

Swinburne argues that a personal explanation of the universe satisfies the above probability criteria. It satisfies condition (1) in that appealing to God as an intentional agent has explanatory power. It leads us to have certain expectations about the universe: that it manifests order, is comprehensible, and favors the existence of beings that can comprehend it. It makes probable the existence of the complex universe because God could have reasons for causing such a universe, whereas we would have no reasons at all if all we had was the brute fact of the material universe. Among these reasons is that the universe would be "a theatre for finite agents to develop and make of it what they will" (Swinburne 1979: 131).

Michael Martin objects at this point. Martin contends that if Swinburne is to compare the a priori probability of there being a complex universe given our background knowledge with the a priori probability of a complex universe given our background knowledge and the existence of God, he has to be clear on how he interprets the probability. Martin notes that herein lies crucial ambiguity that disables calculating the a priori probability. If one compares the very many possible complex universes with there being no universe, on the basis of assigning equal probability to all possibilities the probability of there being a complex universe is nearly 1. However, if one compares the probability of there being a complex universe with there being no universe at all, it is 50 percent (Martin 1986: 155). Furthermore, Martin wonders whether complexity is an issue at all. According to Swinburne, as free God can create any kind of world or no world at all. But then the existence of God is compatible with any number of scenarios: the existence of no world, a simpler world than we have, one like ours, or any number of more complex universes. Consequently, the complexity of this world does not matter in constructing an inductive argument for God's existence (1986: 155). Put another way, adding the existence of God to our background knowledge does not increase the likelihood of there being a complex universe, let alone of there being this particular universe or a universe at all (1986: 158).

In short, Martin does not see how Swinburne can establish an a priori probability for the existence of a complex universe, to be compared with an a priori probability for the existence of God based on simplicity, a feature of Swinburne's Bayesian argument. This introduces the theme of simplicity, to which Swinburne devotes much attention.

Swinburne goes on to argue that a personal explanation in terms of God satisfies condition (2) because of its simplicity. If one is going to construct an explanatory hypothesis using the criterion of simplicity, God rather than science is more likely to be the focus of the true explanatory hypothesis. God is one and of one kind; polytheism is ruled out. Moreover, God is the simplest kind of person there can be because a person is a being with power (to do intentional actions), knowledge, and freedom (to choose, uncaused, which actions to do), and in God these properties are infinite, and having infinite properties is simpler than having properties with limits, as humans do. "It is always simpler to postulate infinite or zero degrees of some property than a certain precise finite value of it" (Swinburne 1983: 385). Furthermore, God engages in simple causation, that is, causation by simple intention. Swinburne concludes that although the prior likelihood of neither God nor the universe is particularly high, the prior probability of a simple God exceeds that of a complex universe. Hence, if anything is to occur unexplained, it would be God, not the universe.

Consequently, if we are to explain the universe, we must appeal to a personal explanation

in terms of a person who is not part of the universe acting from without. This can be done if we suppose that such a person (God) brings it about at each instant of time, that (the laws of nature) \(L\) operate. (Swinburne 1979: 126, 2004: 142)

Although for Swinburne this argument does not make the existence of God more probable than not (it is not a P-inductive argument), it does increase the probability of God's existence (is a C-inductive argument) because it provides a more reasonable explanation for the universe than merely attributing it to the brute fact of the universe's existence.

Theism does not make [certain phenomena] very probable; but nothing else makes their occurrence in the least probable, and they cry out for an explanation. A priori, theism is perhaps very unlikely, but it is far more likely than any rival supposition. Hence, our phenomena are substantial evidence for the truth of theism. (Swinburne 1979: 290)

In his critique of Swinburne, J. L. Mackie wonders whether personal explanations are reducible to natural, scientific explanations. To implement intentionality requires an entire system of neurological and macro-biological conditions. Not only does God as nonphysical lack these biological conditions, but these conditions are exceedingly complex, not simple. "Only by ignoring such key features [the role of the body] do we get an analogue of supposed divine action" (Mackie 1982: 100). When we incorporate these features, the simplicity disappears.

Swinburne replies that Mackie has misunderstood his argument. "The simplicity of the relation between intention and its realization has nothing to do with how our will or intentions are realized in practice" (Swinburne 1983: 386). Even if we understand all the neural connections and firings, we may not achieve any better explanation of why persons intended to act as they did than simply asking them why they acted as they did. This indicates that the existence of intermediate physical causal links is not an essential part of personal explanation. In fact, Swinburne argues, since it is easier to understand the function of intention without invoking any physical causal limitations, it makes it easier to understand the case of God who as nonphysical has no need for intermediary physical processes. Thus, he claims, Mackie missed the point about God when he invokes the complexity of physical accounts. The point is that God can will to act on his intentions directly, and this provides a simple account or explanation of why things came to exist.

The critical aspect of Swinburne's argument is his almost total reliance in his inductive cosmological argument on simplicity as the deciding factor between competing hypotheses regarding the cause of the existence of the universe (2004: 333-34; 2010, 9; Ostrowick). Swinburne has at least six understandings that one hypothesis is simpler than another. (1) It invokes the fewest number of entities (2004: 106; 1983: 386; 2001: 87; 2010, 5). This is a quantitative understanding. (2) It invokes the fewest kinds of entities-a qualitative understanding (1983: 386, 2001: 87). (3) It invokes entities with simple or few properties (1983: 386) Swinburne invokes a subcriterion that explanations are simpler when the properties they invoke are observable (2010, 6). (4) It invokes powers, acquisition of beliefs, and consistency of intentions similar to ours when applied to personal explanation of rational behavior (2004: 61-64). (5) The explanation invokes the simplest organization of the features functioning in the explicans, e.g., laws or variables (2001: 83, 89-90). (6) Simplicity can be found in the explicans in that it does not invoke extraneous features that are not necessary to explain the effect (2001: 81).

Swinburne holds that the appeal to God as an explanation is simpler in all of these ways. Not only is there one entity and that entity is simple, the explanation effectively has no organization of the features. The explanation itself is simple. The appeal to God's causal activity satisfies understanding or interpretation 6 in that it involves no extraneous entities to do the explaining and requires no intermediaries. God can bring about the effect by himself alone.

Several important questions about simplicity arise. First, is simplicity the criterion we should use to decide between hypotheses? For one thing, simplicity is not always a reliable criterion for determining which hypothesis is true or which hypothesis provides the best explanatory account. The rise of quantum explanations suggests that the simplest account of the universe, for example, that of Newton, is not a complete and fully adequate account. The events in the subatomic realm are far from explained simply. For another, although an explanation in terms of four factors might make an explanation simpler, the reverse might hold: an explanation in terms of ten factors might be simpler than an explanation in terms of four because the relationships that hold between the ten factors are less complex than those that hold between the four, making for a simpler explanation (Ostrowick 2012). In reply, Swinburne might grant this, but argue that in these much more limited cases explanatory power, background knowledge, and scope now come into significant play in a way that they don't when addressing hypotheses explaining the oddness, bigness, and complexity of the universe.

Second, why think that theism is simpler than naturalism? Oppy argues that whereas both naturalism and theism equally fit the data and have the same scope, naturalism is simpler, for theism is

committed to two kinds of entities (the natural and the supernatural), two kinds of external relations (the natural and the supernatural), two kinds of causation (the natural and the supernatural), two kinds of non-topic-neutral properties (the natural and the supernatural), and so on, whereas naturalism is committed to only one kind in each of these categories. (2013: 52)

In conclusion, Swinburne contends that it is very unlikely that a universe would exist uncaused, but more likely that God would exist uncaused. It is likely that if there is a God, he will make something like the finite and complex universe. The puzzling existence of the universe can be made comprehensible (explicable) if we suppose it is brought about by a personal God with intentional beliefs and the power to bring intentions to fruition (2004: 152). Whether simplicity can bear the weight of his argument is the key matter in question.

9. Necessary Being

Finally, even if the cosmological argument is sound or cogent, the difficult task remains to show, as part of natural theology, that the necessary being to which the cosmological argument concludes is the God of religion, and if so, of which religion. Rowe suggests that the cosmological argument has two parts, one to establish the existence of a first cause or necessary being, the other that this necessary being is God (1975: 6). It is unclear, however, whether the second contention is an essential part of the cosmological argument. Although Aquinas was quick to make the identification between God and the first mover or first cause (growing out of his contention that philosophy is the handmaiden of theology, such that in philosophy faith seeks understanding, not confirmation), such identification seems to go beyond the causal reasoning that informs the argument (although one can argue that it is consistent with the larger picture of God and his properties that Aquinas paints in his Summae). Some (Rasmussen, O'Connor, Koons) have plowed ahead in developing this stage 2 process by showing how and what properties-simplicity, unity, omnipotence, omniscience, goodness, and so on-might follow from the concept of a necessary being. It "has implications that bring it into the neighborhood of God as traditionally conceived" (O'Connor 2008: 67). Others have proposed a method of correlation, where to give any religious substance to the concept of a necessary being, one conducts a lengthy discussion of the supreme beings found in the diverse religions and carefully correlates the properties of a necessary being with those of a religious being. This is done to discern compatibilities and incompatibilities (Attfield 1975).

Regardless of the connection of a necessary being with religion, it is necessary to flesh out the nature of the necessary being if one is to hold that the cosmological argument is informative. As O'Connor notes, the mere concept of a necessary being is "quite thin". Along with classical Islamic defenders of the argument (e.g., al-Baghdadi, c. 1000), O'Connor (2008: 88) concludes that there is a necessary connection between a personal necessary being and its nature. He suggests that there is not a contingent but a "subtle entailment relation" between certain essential properties like being perfectly powerful, perfectly free, and perfectly knowledgeable. For example, the

extent of power seems to be a function of at least two variables: the amount of work that can be performed in a single task and the range of tasks one is able to perform in a given circumstance.... Perfect power and freedom would require an essentially unlimited knowledge, corresponding to the unlimited range of possibilities. (2008: 89)

A necessary being must also be causally independent for its existence and thus transcendent (2008: 92). Similarly, Swinburne ties God's perfection to his simplicity that, as we have seen, functions centrally in his argument.

Two notions of necessity are found in the conclusion to the deductive argument: "Necessarily, a necessary being exists". The first is conditional necessity: the proposition is necessary given that the premises are true and the argument valid. The other use concerns what is meant by "necessary being". O'Connor writes that God is absolutely necessary, by which he means that God is "absolutely invulnerable to nonexistence" (2008: 70).

The concept of a necessary being is of one that could not have failed to exist, absolutely speaking. For such a being to be possible, it must be such that it would exist in every possible circumstance, including the actual one. That's precisely why the question of its existence cannot arise, thereby ending the regress of explanation nonarbitrarily. (O'Connor 2013: 42)

For him necessary existence is necessarily tied up with a particular nature (otherwise the existence would be contingent) but not derivative from it; God's existence entails his nature (2008: 88). God's necessity is not logical (for there is no contradiction in denying that such a being exists) but made possible on explanatory grounds (the cosmological argument). However, we might inquire, if God could not have failed to exist, how does an absolutely necessary being differ from a logically necessary being? O'Connor goes on to argue that God's absolute necessity does not invoke the ontological argument. He agrees that by modal Axiom S5, if it is possible that a necessary being exists, it necessarily exists (2008: 71), but denies that this invokes the ontological argument, since it "gives no reason to think that the nature in question is genuinely possible, and not merely logically consistent". However, one might wonder, what would one have to establish to show that the existence of a necessary being understood in this sense is genuinely possible? (see Plantinga, God, Freedom, and Evil, 1967: 112). Gale himself admits that, given this view of necessity and S5, the ontological argument works although we don't know how to properly construct it (Gale and Pruss 1999: 462).

One way to understand the necessary being is as factually or metaphysically necessary. In this understanding, the necessary being is "sheer, ultimate, unconditioned reality, without beginning or end" (Hick 1960: 730). God's necessity refers to his aseity, in that God does not depend on anything else for his existence. It is from God's aseity that his eternity follows.

God is not one fact amongst others, but is related asymmetrically to all other facts as that which determines them. This is the ultimate given circumstance, which it is not possible to go with either question or explanation. For to explain something means either to assign a cause to it or to show its place within some wider context in relation to which it is no longer puzzling to us. However, the idea of the self-existent Creator of everything other than himself is the idea of a reality which is beyond the scope of these explanatory procedures. (Hick 1960: 733-34)

Given this reading of "necessary being", God as the necessary being possesses metaphysical or factual necessity and logical contingency (Hick 1960; Swinburne 2004: 79). If the necessary being exists at any time, then necessarily it exists at all times. If the necessary being does not exist, it cannot come into existence. Nothing can bring it into existence or cause it to cease to exist. Thus, if God exists now, it is not coherent to suppose that any agent can make it false that God exists (Swinburne 2004: 249, 266). O'Connor objects that if the necessary being is contingent, it just happens to exist (2008: 70; see White (1979) for further objections). However, one might reply that God does not just happen to exist; God exists because of his nature (although his nature does not precede his existence).

Further considerations beyond the scope of the cosmological argument are in order to discern the relationship between a necessary being and the properties often associated with a religious Ultimate. While defenders of the cosmological argument point to the relevance and importance of connecting the necessary being with natural theology, critics find themselves freed from such endeavors.

After all is presented and developed, it is clear that every thesis and argument we have considered, whether in support or critical of the cosmological argument, is seriously contested. Perhaps that is as it should be when trying to answer the difficult questions whether the universe is contingent or necessary, caused or eternal, and if caused, why it exists or what brought it into being.

Bibliography

al-Baghdadi, Abu Mansur, [c.1000] 1981, 'Usul al-din, 3rd edition Beirut: Dar al-kutub al-'ilmiyya.

Almeida, Michael, 2018, Cosmological Arguments, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Almeida, Michael and Neil D. Judisch, 2002, "A New Cosmological Argument Undone", International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 51: 55-64.

Aquinas, Thomas, Summa Contra Gentiles, Bk. 1. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975. [Summa Contra Gentiles available online]

---, [ST] Summa Theologica, I, q. 2. [Summa Theologica available online]

Attfield, Robin, 1975, "The God of Religion and the God of Philosophy", Religious Studies, 9(1): 1-9. doi:10.1017/S0034412500006259

Beck, W. David, 2002, "The Cosmological Argument: A Current Bibliographical Appraisal", Philosophia Christi, 2(2): 283-304. [Beck 2002 available online]

Bonaventure, c. 1250, Commentary on the Sentences: Philosophy of God. Works of St. Bonaventure XVI, R.E. Houser and Timothy B. Noone (eds), St. Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Press, 2014.

Bricmont, Jean, 2016, Making Sense of Quantum Mechanics, Cham: Springer Nature.

Brown, Patterson, 1966, "Infinite Causal Regression", Philosophical Review, 75(4): 510-25. doi:10.2307/2183226

Burgess, John P., 1999, "Which Modal Logic Is the Right One?", Notre Dame Journal of Formal Logic, 40(1): 81-93.

Cohen, Yishai, 2015, "Endless Future: A Persistent Thorn in the The Kalām Argument", Philosophical Papers, 44(2): 154-187. doi.org/10.1080/05568641.2015.1056961.

Copan, Paul, 2017, 2019, The Kalām Cosmological Argument (2 vols), New York: Bloomsbury.

Copan, Paul and William Lane Craig, 2004, Creation out of Nothing, Grand Rapids: Baker.

Craig, William Lane, 1979, The Kalām Cosmological Argument, London: Macmillan.

---, 1980, The Cosmological Argument from Plato to Leibniz, London: Macmillan.

---, 1992, "The Origin and Creation of the Universe: A Reply to Adolf Grünbaum", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 43(2): 233-40. doi:10.1093/bjps/43.2.233.

---, 1997, "In Defense of the Kalām Cosmological Argument", Faith and Philosophy, 14(2): 236-47. doi:10.5840/faithphil19971422 [Craig 1997 available online]

---, 2002, "Must the Beginning of the Universe Have a Personal Cause?: A Rejoinder", Faith and Philosophy, 19(1): 94-105. doi:10.5840/faithphil20021917

---, 2010, "Taking Tense Time Seriously in Differentiating Past and Future: A Response to Wes Morriston", Faith and Philosophy, 27(4): 451-56. doi:10.5840/faithphil201027445

---, 2018, "The Kalām Cosmological Argument", in Jerry Walls and Trent Dougherty (eds.), Two Dozen (or so) Arguments for God, New York: Oxford University Press.

Craig, William Lane and James P. Moreland, (eds.), 2009, The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, London: Blackwell,

Craig, William Lane and James D. Sinclair, 2009, "The Kalām Cosmological Argument", in Craig and Moreland 2009: 101-201. [This contains an exhaustive bibliography on theKalām cosmological argument.] [Craig and Sinclair 2009 preprint available online]

Craig, William Lane and Quentin Smith, 1993, Theism, Atheism, and Big Bang Cosmology, New York: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198263838.001.0001

Davey, Kevin and Rob Clifton, 2001, "Insufficient Reason in the 'New Cosmological Argument'", Religious Studies, 37(4): 485-490. doi:10.1017/S0034412501005819

Davidson, Herbert A., 1969, "John Philoponus as a Source of Medieval Islamic and Jewish Proofs of Creation", Journal of the American Oriental Society, 89(2) (April-June): 357-91. doi:10.2307/596519

Davies, Paul, 1984, Superforce, New York: Simon and Schuster.

---, 1992, The Mind of God, New York: Simon and Schuster.

Davis, Stephen, 1997, God, Reason & Theistic Proofs, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

Dvali, George, 2004, "Out of the Darkness", Scientific American, 290(2) (Feb.): 68-75.

Eells, Ellery, 1988, "Quentin Smith on Infinity and the Past", Philosophy of Science, 55(3): 453-455. doi:10.1086/289451 [Eells 1988 preprint available online]

Fakry, Majid, 1957, "The Classical Islamic Arguments for the Existence of God", The Muslim World, 47(2): 133-45. doi:10.1111/j.1478-1913.1957.tb02956.x [Fakry 1957 available online]

Flew, Anthony and Alasdair C. MacIntyre (eds.), 1955, New Essays in Philosophical Theology, London: SCM.

Gale, Richard M. (ed.), 1991, On the Nature and Existence of God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 10.1017/CBO9781316499054

Gale, Richard M. and Alexander R. Pruss, 1999, "A New Cosmological Argument", Religious Studies, 35(4): 461-476. Reprinted in Gale and Pruss 2003: 365-80. [Gale and Pruss 1999 available online]

---, 2002, "A Response to Oppy, and to Davey and Clifton", Religious Studies, 38(1): 89-99. doi:10.1017/S0034412501005923

--- (eds.), 2003, The Existence of God, Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Gellman, Jerome, 2000, "Prospects for a sound stage 3 of cosmological arguments", Religious Studies, 36(2): 195-2001. Reprinted in Gale and Pruss 2003: 381-87.

Glanz, James, 1998, "Cosmic Motion Revealed", Science, 282(5397): 2156-2157. doi:10.1126/science.282.5397.2156a

Goldschmidt, Tyron (ed.), 2013, The Puzzle of Existence: Why Is There Something Rather than Nothing? New York: Routledge.

Grünbaum, Adolf, 1991, "Creation as a Pseudo-Explanation in Current Physical Cosmology", Erkenntnis, 35(1-3): 233-54. doi:10.1007/BF00388287 [Grünbaum 1991 available online]

---, 1994, "Some Comments on William Craig's 'Creation and Big Bang Cosmology'", Philosophia Naturalis, 31(2): 225-236. [Grünbaum 1994 available online]

Harvey, Ramon, 2021, Transcendent God, Rational World, Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh.

Hawking, Stephen W., 1987, "Quantum Cosmology", in Stephen W. Hawking and Werner Israel (eds.), Three Hundred Years of Gravitation, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 631-51.

---, 1988, A Brief History of Time, New York: Bantam.

Heil, John, 2013, "Contingency", in Goldschmidt 2013: 167-81.

Hick, John, 1960, "God as Necessary Being", Journal of Philosophy, 57(22/23): 725-33.

Hume, David, 1779, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, London. Reprinted Indianapolis: Hackett, 1980. [Hume 1779 available online]

---, 1748, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, London. Reprinted Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993. [Hume 1748 available online]

Kant, Immanuel, 1781/1787, Critique of Pure Reason, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. [Kant Critique available online]

Kenny, Anthony, 1969, The Five Ways, New York: Schocken Books.

Koons, Robert C., 1997, "A New Look at the Cosmological Argument", American Philosophical Quarterly, 34(2): 193-211.

---, 2008, "Epistemological Foundations for the Cosmological Argument", in Jonathan L. Kvanvig, (ed.), Oxford Studies in the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 105-133.

---, 2014, "A New Kalam Argument: Revenge of the Grim Reaper", Noûs, 48(2): 256-67. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0068.2012.00858.x

Leftow, Brian, 2012, God and Necessity, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199263356.001.0001

Leibniz, Gottfried, 1714, The Monadology, Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1991. [ Leibniz 1714 available online]

Leslie, John, 1979, Value and Existence, Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield.

Loke, Andrew, 2014a, "A Modified Philosophical Argument for the Beginning of the Universe", Think, 13(36): 71-83. doi:10.1017/S147717561300033X

---, 2014b, "No Heartbreak at Hilbert's Hotel: a Reply to Landon Hedrick", Religious Studies, 50(1): 47-50. doi: 10.1017/S0034412513000346

---, 2017, God and Ultimate Origins: A Novel Cosmological Argument, New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Mackie, John L., 1982, The Miracle of Theism: Arguments for and against the Existence of God, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Martin, Michael, 1990, Atheism: A Philosophical Justification, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

---, 1991, The Case Against Christianity, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

---, 1986, "Swinburne's Inductive Cosmological Argument", Heythrop Journal, 27(2): 151-162. doi:10.1111/j.1468-2265.1986.tb00085.x

Mermin, N. David, 1985, "Is the moon there when nobody looks? Reality and the quantum theory", Physics Today, 38(4): 38-47. doi:10.1063/1.880968

Miethe, Terry L., 1978, "The Cosmological Argument: A Research Bibliography", New Scholasticism, 52(2): 285-305. doi:10.5840/newscholas197852210

Morriston, Wes, 2000, "Must the Beginning of the Universe Have a Personal Cause? A Critical Examination of the Kalam Cosmological Argument",Faith and Philosophy, 17(2): 149-69. doi:10.5840/faithphil200017215

---, 2002a, "Causes and Beginnings in the Kalam Argument: Reply to Craig",Faith and Philosophy, 19(2): 233-44. doi:10.5840/faithphil200219218

---, 2002b, "Craig on the Actual Infinite", Religious Studies, 38: 147-166.

---, 2003, "Must Metaphysical Time Have a Beginning?", Faith and Philosophy, 20(3): 288-306. doi:10.5840/faithphil200320338

---, 2010, "Beginningless Past, Endless Future, and the Actual Infinite", Faith and Philosophy, 27(4): 439-50. doi:10.5840/faithphil201027444

Musser, George, 2004, "Four Keys to Cosmology", Scientific American 290(2) (February): 42-43.

Nowacki, Mark R., 2007, The "Kalām" Cosmological Argument for God, New York: Barnes and Noble.

O'Connor, Timothy, 2004, "'And This All Men Call God'", Faith and Philosophy, 21(4): 417-35. doi:10.5840/faithphil200421436 [O'Connor 2004 available online]

---, 2008, Theism and Ultimate Explanation: the Necessary Shape of Contingency, London: Wiley-Blackwell.

---, 2013, "Could There Be a Complete Explanation of Everything?" in Goldschmidt 2013: 22-45.

Oderberg, David S., 2002, "Traversal of the Infinite: the 'Big Bang,' and the Kalam Cosmological Argument",Philosophia Christi, 4(2): 305-344. [Oderberg 2002 available online]

---, 2013, "The Cosmological Argument", in Chad Meister and Paul Copan (eds.), The Routledge Companion to Philosophy of Religion, London: Routledge, pp. 401-10.

Oppy, Graham, 1999, "Koons' Cosmological Argument", Faith and Philosophy, 16(3): 379-389. doi:10.5840/faithphil199916335

---, 2000, "On 'A New Cosmological Argument'", Religious Studies, 36(3): 345-353.

---, 2002, "Arguing about theKalam Cosmological Argument", Philo, 5(1): 34-61. doi:10.5840/philo2002513 [This article contains helpful references tracing the history of the debate between Craig and his critics like Oppy, Grünbaum, Mackie, and Smith.]

---, 2003, "From the Tristram Shandy Paradox to the Christmas Shandy Paradox: A Reply to Oderberg", Ars Disputandi, 3: 1-24. [Oppy 2003 available online]

---, 2006, Arguing about Gods. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2009, "Cosmological Arguments", Noûs, 43(1): 31-48. doi:10.1111/j.1468-0068.2008.01694.x

---, 2013, "Ultimate Naturalistic Causal Explanation", in Goldschmidt 2013: 46-63.

---, 2015, "Uncaused Beginnings Revisited", Faith and Philosophy, 32(2): 205-10.

Ostrowick, John, 2012, "Is Theism a Simple, and Hence, Probable, Explanation for the Universe?", South African Journal of Philosophy, 31(2): 354-68. doi:10.1080/02580136.2012.10751781

Plantinga, Alvin, 1967, God and Other Minds, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Potter, Karl H. (ed.), 1977, Indian Metaphysics and Epistemology: The Tradition of Nyāya-Vaiśeşika up to Gangeśa, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Proops, Ian, 2014, "Kant on the Cosmological Argument", Philosophers' Imprint, 14(12): 1-21.

Pruss, Alexander R., 1999, "The Hume-Edwards Principle and the Cosmological Argument", in Gale and Pruss 2003: 347-63.

---, 2006, The Principle of Sufficient Reason: A Reassessment, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2009, "The Leibnizian Cosmological Argument", in Craig and Moreland 2009: 24-100. [Pruss 2009 available online]

---, 2018, Infinity, Causation, and Paradox, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Puryear, Stephen, 2014, "Finitism and the beginning of the Universe", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 92: 619-29.

Quinn, Philip, 2005, "Cosmological Contingency and Theistic Explanation", Faith and Philosophy, 22(5): 581-600. doi:10.5840/faithphil200522520

Rasmussen, Joshua, 2009, "From a Necessary Being to God", International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 66(1): 1-13. doi:10.1007/s11153-008-9191-8

---, 2010, "A New Argument for a Necessary Being", Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 89(2): 351-56. doi:10.1080/00048402.2010.523706

Reichenbach, Bruce R., 1972, The Cosmological Argument: A Reassessment, Springfield: Charles Thomas.

---, 2004, "Explanation and the Cosmological Argument", in Michael L. Peterson and Raymond J. VanArragon (eds.), Contemporary Debates in Philosophy of Religion, London: Blackwell, pp. 97-114.

Rowe, William L., 1962, "The Fallacy of Composition", Mind, 71(281): 87-92. doi:10.1093/mind/LXXI.281.87

---, 1968, "The Cosmological Argument and the Principle of Sufficient Reason", Man and World, 1(2): 278-92. doi:10.1007/BF01258405

---, 1975, The Cosmological Argument, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

---, 1997, "Circular Explanations, Cosmological Arguments, and Sufficient Reasons", Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 21(1): 188-99. doi:10.1111/j.1475-4975.1997.tb00523.x

Rundle, Bede, 2004, Why There Is Something Rather than Nothing?, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Russell, Bertrand, 1937, The Principles of Mathematics, second edition (first edition 1903), London: George Allen & Unwin.

Russell, Bertrand and Frederick Copleston, 1948, "Debate on the Existence of God", Reprinted in John Hick (ed.), 1964, The Existence of God, New York: Macmillan, pp. 167-90.

Scotus, John Duns, [c. 1300] 1964, Ordinatio, inPhilosophical Writings: A Selection, Allan Wolter (trans.), Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1964.

Silk, Joseph, 2001, The Big Bang, San Francisco: W.H. Freeman.

Siniscalchi, Glenn B., 2018, "Contemporary Trends in Atheistic Criticism of Thomistic Natural Theology", Heythrop Journal, 59: 689-706.

Sincell, Marc, 2001, "Farthest Supernova Yet Bolsters Dark Energy", Science, 292(5514): 27-28. doi:10.1126/science.292.5514.27a

Small, Robin, 1986, "Tristram Shandy's Last Page", British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 37(2): 213-16. doi:10.1093/bjps/37.2.213

Smart, J.J.C., 1955, "The Existence of God," in Antony Flew and Alasdair MacIntyre, New Essays in Philosophical Theology New York: Macmillan, pp. 28-46.

Smart, J.J.C. and J.J. Haldane, 1996, Atheism and Theism, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.

Sobel, Jordan H., 2004, Logic and Theism: Arguments For and Against Beliefs in God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, chaps. 5 & 6.

Steinhardt, Paul J., 2011, "The Inflation Debate", Scientific American, 304(4): 36-45.

Steinhardt, Paul J. and Neil Turok, 2001, "A Cyclic Model of the Universe", Science, 296: 1436-1439.

---, 2002, "Cosmic Evolution in a Cyclic Universe", Physical Review D, 65(12): 1-53. doi:10.1103/PhyRevD.65.126003

Swinburne, Richard, 1977, The Coherence of Theism, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1979, The Existence of God, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1983, "Mackie, Induction, and God", Religious Studies, 19(3): 385-91. doi:10.1017/S0034412500015316

---, 1993. The Coherence of Theism, revised edition, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1996, Is There a God? Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2001, Epistemic Justification, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2004, The Existence of God, revised edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2007, Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy, 2nd edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199212460.001.0001

---, 2010, "God as the Simplest Explanation of the Universe", European Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 2(1): 1-24.

---, 2012, "What Kind of Necessary Being Could God Be?", European Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 4(2), 1-18.

---, 2016, The Coherence of Theism, 2nd edition, Oxford: Clarendon Press. doi:10.1093/0198240708.001.0001

Taylor, Richard, 1992, Metaphysics, Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.

Tolman, Richard C., 1934, Relativity, Thermodynamics, and Cosmology, New York: Dover.

Udayana, [c. 900] 1996, Nyāyakusumāñjali, Indian Council of Philosophical Research, New Delhi: Distributed by Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers.

van Inwagen, Peter, 1983, An Essay on Free Will, New York: Oxford University Press.

Waters, Ben, 2013, "Methuselah's Diary and the Finitude of the Past", Philosophia Christi, 15(2): 463-69.

White, John D., 1979, "God's Necessity", International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 10(1): 177-87. doi:10.1007/BF00143165

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Although in Western philosophy the earliest formulation of a version of the cosmological argument is found in Plato's Laws, 893-96, the classical argument is firmly rooted in Aristotle's Physics (VIII, 4-6) and Metaphysics (XII, 1-6). Islamic philosophy enriches the tradition, developing two types of arguments. Arabic philosophers ( falasifa), such as Ibn Sina (c.

# data[].attributes.headline
8.6 Intelligent Design: Crash Course Philosophy #11

# data[].attributes.subject
8.6 Intelligent Design: Crash Course Philosophy #11

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores the teleological argument which tries to prove the existence of god based on the idea that natural objects in the world are "designed" with a purpose.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Intelligent Design: Crash Course Philosophy #11

# data[].attributes.headline
8.7 Teleological Arguments for God’s Existence

# data[].attributes.subject
8.7 Teleological Arguments for God’s Existence

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the teleological argument, or how the complex structure and functionality in nature suggests the existence of a purposeful, intelligent design behind them.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
It is not uncommon for humans to find themselves with the intuition that random, unplanned, unexplained accident just couldn't produce the order, beauty, elegance, and seeming purpose that we experience in the natural world around us. As Hume's interlocutor Cleanthes put it, we seem to see "the image of mind reflected on us from innumerable objects" in nature. (Hume 1779 [1998], 35). And many people find themselves convinced that no explanation for that mind-resonance which fails to acknowledge a causal role for intelligence, intent and purpose in nature can be seriously plausible.

Cosmological arguments often begin with the bare fact that there are contingently existing things and end with conclusions concerning the existence of a cause with the power to account for the existence of those contingent things. Others reason from the premise that the universe has not always existed to a cause that brought it into being. Teleological arguments (or arguments from design) by contrast begin with a much more specialized catalogue of properties and end with a conclusion concerning the existence of a designer with the intellectual properties (knowledge, purpose, understanding, foresight, wisdom, intention) necessary to design the things exhibiting the special properties in question. In broad outline, then, teleological arguments focus upon finding and identifying various traces of the operation of a mind in nature's temporal and physical structures, behaviors and paths. Order of some significant type is usually the starting point of design arguments.

Design-type arguments are largely unproblematic when based upon things nature clearly could not or would not produce (e.g., most human artifacts), or when the intelligent agency is itself 'natural' (human, alien, etc.). Identifying designed traces of 'lost' human civilizations or even non-human civilizations (via SETI) could in principle be uncontroversial. Objections to design inferences typically arise only when the posited designer is something more exotic or perhaps supernatural.

But despite the variety of spirited critical attacks they have elicited, design arguments have historically had and continue to have widespread intuitive appeal-indeed, it is sometimes claimed that design arguments are the most persuasive of all purely philosophical theistic arguments. Note that while design arguments have traditionally been employed to support theism over metaphysical naturalism, some might also be relevant for panentheism, panpsychism, and other views involving irreducible teleology.

The historical arguments of interest are precisely the potentially problematic ones-inferences beginning with some empirical features of nature and concluding with the existence of a designer. A standard but separable second step-the natural theology step-involves identifying the designer as God, often via particular properties and powers required by the designing in question. Although the argument wielded its greatest intellectual influence during the 18th and early 19th centuries, it goes back at least to the Greeks and in extremely clipped form comprises one of Aquinas's Five Ways. It was given a fuller and quite nice early statement by Hume's interlocutor Cleanthes (1779 [1998], 15).

The question remains, however, about the formal structure of such arguments. What sort of logic is being employed? As it turns out, that question does not have just a single answer. Several distinct answers are canvassed in the following sections.

Design arguments are routinely classed as analogical arguments-various parallels between human artifacts and certain natural entities being taken as supporting parallel conclusions concerning operative causation in each case. The standardly ascribed schema is roughly thus:

1. Entity e within nature (or the cosmos, or nature itself) islike specified human artifact a (e.g., a machine) in relevant respectsR.

2. a has R precisely because it is a product of deliberate design by intelligent human agency.

3. Like effects typically have like causes (orlike explanations, like existence requirements, etc.)

Therefore

It is (highly) probable that e has R precisely because it too is a product of deliberate design by intelligent, relevantly human-like agency.

(The relevant respects and properties R are referred to variously as teleological properties or as marks or signs of design, and objects having such properties are sometimes referred to as teleological objects. For simplicity and uniformity of discussion, I shall simply talk in terms of " R s".)

2.1.1 Humean objections

This general argument form was criticized quite vigorously by Hume, at several key steps. (Hume's primary critical discussion is contained in (Hume 1779 [1998]). Hume's responses are widely taken as the paradigm philosophical refutation of traditional design arguments.) Against (1), Hume argued that the analogy is not very good-that nature and the various things in it are not very like human artifacts and exhibit substantial differences from them-e.g., living vs. not, self-sustaining vs. not. Indeed, whereas advocates of design arguments frequently cited similarities between the cosmos on the one hand and human machines on the other, Hume suggested (tongue perhaps only partly in cheek) that the cosmos much more closely resembled a living organism than a machine. But if the alleged resemblance is in relevant respects distant, then the inference in question will be logically fragile. And while (2) may be true in specific cases of human artifacts a, that fact is only made relevant to natural phenomena e via (3), which underpins the transfer of the key attribution. Against (3), Hume argued that any number of alternative possible explanations could be given of allegedly designed entities in nature-chance, for instance. Thus, even were (1) true and even were there important resemblances, the argument might confer little probabilistic force onto the conclusion.

More generally, Hume also argued that even if something like the stated conclusion (4) were established, that left the arguer far from anything like a traditional conception of God. For instance, natural evils or apparently suboptimal designs might suggest e.g., an amateur designer or a committee of designers. And if phenomena instrumental to the production of natural evils (e.g., disease microorganisms) exhibited various of the Rs, then they would presumably have to be laid at the designer's door, further eroding the designer's resemblance to the wholly good deity of tradition. And even the most impressive empirical data could properly establish only finite (although perhaps enormous) power and wisdom, rather than the infinite power and wisdom usually associated with divinity. But even were one to concede some substance to the design argument's conclusion, that would, Hume suggested, merely set up a regress. The designing agent would itself demand explanation, requiring ultimately a sequence of prior analogous intelligences producing intelligences. And even were the existence of a designer of material things established, that did not yet automatically establish the existence of a creator of the matter so shaped. And since analogical arguments are a type of induction (see the entry on analogy and analogical reasoning), the conclusion even if established would be established only to some, perhaps insignificant, degree of probability. Furthermore, we could not ground any induction concerning the cosmos itself upon a requisite fund of experiences of other cosmoi found to be both deliberately designed and very like ours in relevant respects-for the simple reason that this universe is our only sample. And finally the fraction of this one cosmos (both spatially and temporally) available to our inspection is extraordinarily small-not a promising basis for a cosmically general conclusion. Hume concluded that while the argument might constitute some limited grounds for thinking that " the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence " (Hume 1779 [1998], 88) Hume's emphasis)-and that is not a trivial implication-it established nothing else whatever.

Historically, not everyone agreed that Hume had fatally damaged the argument. It is simply not true that explanatory inferences cannot properly extend beyond merely what is required for known effects. As a very general example, based on the few observations which humans had made during a cosmically brief period in a spatially tiny part of the cosmos, Newton theorized that all bits of matter at all times and in all places attracted all other bits of matter. There was nothing whatever logically suspect here. Indeed, simplicity and uniformity considerations-which have considerable well-earned scientific clout-push in the direction of such generalizations.

2.1.2 R Concerns: Round 1

Key questions, then, include: what are the relevant Rs typically cited? do those Rs genuinely signal purpose and design? how does one show that either way? are there viable alternative accounts of the Rs requiring no reference to minds? how does one show that either way? The specific Rs in question are obviously central to design argument efforts. Although the underlying general category is, again, some special type of orderliness, the specifics have ranged rather widely historically. Among the more straightforwardly empirical are inter alia uniformity, contrivance, adjustment of means to ends, particularly exquisite complexity, particular types of functionality, delicacy, integration of natural laws, improbability, and the fitness (fine-tuning) of the inorganic realm for supporting life. Several problematic proposals that are empirically further removed and have axiological overtones have also been advanced, including the intelligibility of nature, the directionality of evolutionary processes, aesthetic characteristics (beauty, elegance, and the like), apparent purpose and value (including the aptness of our world for the existence of moral value and practice) and just the sheer niftiness of many of the things we find in nature.

Many of the specific Rs advanced historically were vulnerable to substantive critiques, often increasingly so as time went on. Specifically, while it was clearly evident that various a's had the R character they did in virtue of their (human) intentional production, it was much more difficult establishing that any or all other occurrences of R likely owed their existence to intention as well. As the standard story has it, science increasingly acquired understandings of how nature unaided by deliberate intent and planning could produce virtually any R proposed, and thus while (2) might continue to hold for virtually any human artifact a having any intended R one might please, (3)-and the inference to (4)-became progressively less defensible. Design, on this telling, might gradually be explained away.

But some advocates of design arguments had been reaching for a deeper intuition. The intuition they were attempting to capture involved properties that in and of themselves constituted some degree of evidence for design-properties that were not merely constantly conjoined, for whatever reason, with instances of design. The specific Rs were singled out not just because such properties happened to be often or even only produced by designing agents. (Garbage heaps fit that description.) Advocates were convinced that the appropriate Rs in question were in their own right directly reflective of and redolent of cognition, that this directly suggested mind, that we could see nearly directly that they were the general sort of thing that a mind might or even would generate, and that consequently they did not depend for their evidential force upon previously established constant conjunctions or other associations with known instances of design. When we see a text version of the Gettysburg Address, that text says mind to us in a way totally unrelated to any induction or analogy from past encounters with written texts. It was that type of testimony to mind, to design, that some historical advocates of design arguments believed that they found in some Rs observed in nature-a testimony having no dependency on induction or analogy. Beauty, purpose and in general value especially when conjoined with delicate complexity were popular underlying intuitive marks. Intricate, dynamic, stable, functioning order of the sort we encounter in nature was frequently placed in this category. Such order was taken to be suggestive of minds in that it seemed nearly self-evidently the sort of thing minds, and so far as was definitively known, only minds were prone to produce. It was a property whose mind-resonating character we could unhesitatingly attribute to intent.

Despite Hume's earlier demurs that things in nature are not really very like artifacts such as machines, most people (including opponents of design arguments) who are most familiar with nature's dazzling intricacies freely admit that nature abounds with things that look designed-that are intention- shaped. For instance, Francis Crick (no fan of design) issued a warning to his fellow biologists:

Biologists must constantly keep in mind that what they see was not designed, but rather evolved. (Crick 1988, 138).

Along with this perception of mind-suggestiveness went a further principle-that the mind-suggestive or intention-shaped (the design- like) characteristics in question were too palpable to have been generated by non-intentional means.

That allows specification of a second design inference pattern:

1. Some things in nature (or nature itself, the cosmos) are design-like (exhibit a cognition-resonating, intention-shaped character R)

2. Design-like properties (R) are not producible by (unguided) natural means-i.e., any phenomenon exhibiting suchRs must be a product of intentional design.

Therefore

Some things in nature (or nature itself, the cosmos) are products of intentional design. And of course, the capacity for intentional design requires agency of some type.

Notice that explicit reference to human artifacts has dropped out of the argument, and that the argument is no longer comparative but has become essentially deductive. Some arguments were historically intended as arguments of that type. Consider the widely reproduced opening passages of William Paley's 1802 Natural Theology:

In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a stone and were asked how the stone came to be there, I might possibly answer that for anything I knew to the contrary it had lain there forever; nor would it, perhaps, be very easy to show the absurdity of this answer. But suppose I had found awatch upon the ground, and it should be inquired how the watch happened to be in that place. I should hardly think of the answer which I had before given, that for anything I knew the watch might have always been there. Yet why should not this answer serve for the watch as well as for the stone? [...] For this reason, and for no other, namely, that when we come to inspect the watch, we perceive-what we could not discover in the stone-that its several parts are framed and put together for a purpose ... [The requisite] mechanism being observed ... the inference we think is inevitable, that the watch must have had a maker. ... Every observation which was made in our first chapter concerning the watch may be repeated with strict propriety concerning the eye, concerning animals, concerning plants, concerning, indeed, all the organized parts of the works of nature. ... [T]heeye ... would be alone sufficient to support the conclusion which we draw from it, as to the necessity of an intelligent Creator. ...

Although Paley's argument is routinely construed as analogical, it in fact contains an informal statement of the above variant argument type. Paley goes on for two chapters discussing the watch, discussing the properties in it which evince design, destroying potential objections to concluding design in the watch, and discussing what can and cannot be concluded about the watch's designer. It is only then that entities in nature-e.g., the eye-come onto the horizon at all. Obviously, Paley isn't making such heavy weather to persuade his readers to concede that the watch really is designed and has a designer. He is, in fact, teasing out the bases and procedures from and by which we should and should not reason about design and designers. Thus Paley's use of the term 'inference' in connection with the watch's designer.

up to the limit, the reasoning is as clear and certain in the one case as in the other. (Paley 1802 [1963], 14)

But the instances are instances of the same inferential move:

there is precisely the same proof that the eye was made for vision as there is that the telescope was made for assisting it. (Paley 1802 [1963], 13)

The watch does play an obvious and crucial role-but as a paradigmatic instance of design inferences rather than as the analogical foundation for an inferential comparison.

Schema 2, not being analogically structured, would not be vulnerable to the ills of analogy, and not being inductive would claim more than mere probability for its conclusion. That is not accidental. Indeed, it has been argued that Paley was aware of Hume's earlier attacks on analogical design arguments, and deliberately structured his argument to avoid the relevant pitfalls (Gillispie 1990, 214-229).

2.2.1 Assessing the Schema 2 argument

First, how are we to assess the premises required by this schema? Premise (5), at least, is not particularly controversial even now. Crick's earlier warning to biologists would have been pointless were there no temptation toward design attributions, and even as implacable a contemporary opponent of design arguments as Richard Dawkins characterized biology as:

the study of complicated things that give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose. (Dawkins 1987, 1)

Day-to-day contemporary biology is rife with terms like 'design', 'machine', 'purpose' and allied terms. As historian of science Timothy Lenoir has remarked:

Teleological thinking has been steadfastly resisted by modern biology. And yet, in nearly every area of research biologists are hard pressed to find language that does not impute purposiveness to living forms. (Lenoir 1982, ix)

Whether or not particular biological phenomena are designed, they are frequently enough design- like to make design language not only fit living systems extraordinarily well, but to undergird generation of fruitful theoretical conceptions as well. Advocates of design arguments claim that the reason why theorizing as if organisms are designed meets with such success is that organisms are in fact designed. Those opposed would say that all teleological concepts in biology must, in one way or another, be reduced to natural selection.

However principle (6) (that the relevant design-like properties are not producible by unguided natural means) will be more problematic in evolutionary biology. What might be the rational justification for (6)? There are two broad possibilities.

1. Empirical: induction. Induction essentially involves establishing that some principle holds within the realm of our knowledge/experience (the sample cases), and then, subject to certain constraints, generalizing the principle to encompass relevant areas beyond that realm (the test cases). The attempt to establish the universality of a connection between having relevant Rs and being a product of mind on the basis of an observed consistent connection between having relevant Rs and being a product of mind within all (most) of the cases where both R was exhibited and we knew whether or not the phenomenon in question was a product of mind, would constitute an inductive generalization.

This approach would suffer from a variety of weaknesses. The R-exhibiting things concerning which we knew whether they were designed would be almost without exception human artifacts, whereas the phenomena to which the generalization was being extended would be almost without exception things in a very different category-things in nature. And, of course, the generalization in question could establish at best a probability, and a fairly modest one at that.

2. Conceptual. It might be held that (6) is known in the same conceptual, nearly a priori way in which we know that textbooks are not producible by natural processes unaided by mind. And our conviction here is not based on any mere induction from prior experiences of texts. Texts carry with them essential marks of mind, and indeed in understanding a text we see at least partway into the mind(s) involved. Various alien artifacts (if any)-of which we have had no prior experience whatever-could fall into this category as well. Similarly, it has been held that we sometimes immediately recognize that order of the requisite sort just is a sign of mind and intent.

Either way, principle (6), or something like it, would be something with which relevant design inferences would begin. Further investigation of (6) requires taking a closer look at the R s which (6) involves.

2.2.2 R Concerns: Round 2

One thing complicating general assessments of design arguments is that the evidential force of specific Rs is affected by the context of their occurrence. Specifically, properties which seem clearly to constitute marks of design in known artifacts often seem to have significantly less evidential import outside that context. For instance, we typically construe enormous complexity in something known to be a manufactured artifact as a deliberately intended and produced characteristic. But mere complexity in contexts not taken to involve artifacts (the precise arrangement of pine needles on a forest floor, for instance) does not seem to have that same force. In the case of natural objects with evident artifactuality absent, it is less clear that such complexity-as well as the other traditional empirical R s-bespeaks intention, plan and purpose. Similarly, absolutely straight lines in an artifact are typically results of deliberate intention. That straight lines traveled by light rays is so would seem to many to be less obvious.

Furthermore, even within those two contexts-artifact and nature-the various R s exhibit varying degrees of evidential force. For instance, even in an artifact, mere complexity of whatever degree speaks less clearly of intent than does an engraved sentence. As most critics of design arguments point out, the examples found in nature are not of the "engraved sentence" sort.

There are two crucial upshots. First, if complexity alone is cited, that complexity may not clearly speak of intent. Second, although the exhibiting of genuine purpose and value might constitute persuasive evidence of a designer, establishing that the empirical characteristics in question really do betoken genuine purpose and value-and not just, say, functionality-seems to many to be difficult if not impossible.

2.2.3 Gaps and Their Discontents

Evidential ambiguity would virtually disappear if it became clear that there is no plausible means of producing some R independent of deliberate intent. Part of the persuasiveness of (6) historically came from absence of any known plausible non-intentional alternative causal account of the traditional R s. Such cases are often linked to alleged gaps in nature-phenomena for which, it is claimed, there can be no purely natural explanation, there being a gap between nature's production capabilities and the phenomenon in question. (For example, nature's unaided capabilities fall short of those capabilities required for producing a radio. Thus, when we see a radio we know that something else-human agency-was involved in its production.) Design cases resting upon nature's alleged inability to produce some relevant 'natural' phenomenon are generally assumed to explicitly or implicitly appeal to supernatural agency, and are typically described as "God-of-the-gaps" arguments-a description usually intended to be pejorative.

The position that there are gaps in nature is not inherently irrational-and would seem to be a legitimate empirical question. But although gaps would profoundly strengthen design arguments, they have their own suite of difficulties. Gaps are usually easy to spot in cases of artifactuality, but although they may be present in nature, establishing their existence there can usually be done (by science, at least) only indirectly-via probability considerations, purported limitations on nature's abilities, etc.

Several possible snags lurk. Gaps in nature would, again, suggest supernatural agency, and some take science to operate under an obligatory exclusion of such. This prohibition-commonly known as methodological naturalism -is often claimed (mistakenly, some argue) to be definitive of genuine science. 'Established' limitations both on science and on nature can and have been overturned in the past. The possibility of discovery (or postulation) of alternative 'natural' means of production would constitute a standing threat to any argument resting in part on a perceived absence of such means. And the spotty track record of alleged gaps provides at least a cautionary note. Such considerations will complicate attempts to very firmly establish design empirically on the basis of the types of properties we usually find in nature.

The way that alleged gaps typically disappear is, of course, through new proposed scientific theories postulating means of natural production of phenomena previously thought to be beyond nature's capabilities. The most obvious example of that is, of course, Darwin's evolutionary theory and its descendants.

Some philosophers of science claim that in a wide variety of scientific cases we employ an "inference to the best explanation" (IBE). The basic idea is that if one among a number of competing candidate explanations is overall superior to others in significant respects-enhanced likelihood, explanatory power and scope, causal adequacy, plausibility, evidential support, fit with already-accepted theories, predictiveness, fruitfulness, precision, unifying power, and the like-then we are warranted in (provisionally) accepting that candidate as the right explanation given the evidence in question (Lipton 1991, 58). Some advocates see design arguments as inferences to the best explanation, taking design explanations-whatever their weaknesses-as prima facie superior to chance, necessity, chance-driven evolution, or whatever.

A general schema deployed in the current case would give us the following:

1. Some things in nature (or nature itself, the cosmos) exhibit exquisite complexity, delicate adjustment of means to ends (and other relevant R characteristics).

2. The hypothesis that those characteristics are products of deliberate, intentional design (Design Hypothesis) would adequately explain them.

3. In fact, the hypothesis that those characteristics are products of deliberate, intentional design (Design Hypothesis) is the best available overall explanation of them.

Therefore (probably)

Some things in nature (or nature itself, the cosmos) are products of deliberate, intentional design (i.e., the Design Hypothesis is likely true).

In arguments of this type, superior explanatory virtues of a theory are taken as constituting decisive epistemic support for theory acceptability, warranted belief of the theory, and likely truth of the theory. There are, of course, multitudes of purported explanatory, epistemic virtues, including the incomplete list a couple paragraphs back (and lists of such have evolved over time). Assessing hypotheses in terms of such virtues is frequently contentious, depending, as it does, on perceptions of ill-defined characteristics, differences in background conceptual stances, and the like. Still, in general we frequently manage rough and ready resolutions.

2.3.1 IBE, Likelihood and Bayes

One key underlying structure in this context is typically traced to Peirce's notion of abduction. Suppose that some otherwise surprising fact e would be a reasonably expectable occurrence were hypothesis h true. That, Peirce argued, would constitute at least some provisional reason for thinking that h might actually be true. Peirce's own characterization was as follows (Peirce 1955, 151):

The measure of C being a 'matter of course' given A is frequently described as the degree to which C could be expected were A in fact true. This intuition is sometimes-though explicitly not by Peirce himself-formalized in terms of likelihood, defined as follows:

The likelihood of hypothesis h (given evidence e) = P(e | h)

The likelihood of h is the probability of finding evidence e given that the hypothesis h is true. In cases of competing explanatory hypotheses-say and -the comparative likelihoods on specified evidence can be taken to indicate which of the competitors specific pieces of evidence differentially support, i.e.:

Higher likelihood of than on specific evidence does not automatically imply that should be accepted, is likely to be true, or is better in some overall sense than is . might, in fact, be a completely lunatic theory which nonetheless entails e, giving as high a likelihood as possible. Such maximal likelihood relative to e would not necessarily alter 's lunacy. Likelihood thus does not automatically translate into a measure of how strongly some specific evidence e supports the hypothesis in question (Jantzen 2014a, Chap. 11).

This, then, leads directly to Bayesian probability theory. While the Bayesian approach is undoubtedly more rigorous than appeals to IBE, few teleological arguments are presented in these terms. For a contrast between IBE and Bayesianism, see abduction. For an important recent critique of theistic design arguments in Bayesian terms, see (Sober 2009), and the reply by (Kotzen (2012), and Jantzen's response (2014b).

Whatever one's view of Bayesianism, IBEs have their own shortcomings. The assessment of 'best' is not only a value-tinged judgment, but is notoriously tricky (especially given the ambiguous and hard to pinpoint import of the Rs in the present case). There is also the very deep question of why we should think that features which we humans find attractive in proposed explanations should be thought to be truth-tracking. What sort of justification might be available here? Furthermore, taking design to be the best explanation for something requires prior identification of the appropriate properties as design-relevant, and that recognition must have a different basis. And again, substantive comparison can only involve known alternatives, which at any point represent a vanishingly small fraction of the possible alternatives. Choosing the best of the known may be the best we can do, but many would insist that without some further suppressed and significant assumptions, being the best (as humans see it) of the (humanly known) restricted group does not warrant ascription of truth, or anything like it.

There are other potential issues here as well. Sober argues that without additional very specific assumptions about the putative designer we could specify no particular value for P( e |  h)-e.g., the likelihood that a designer would produce vertebrate eyes with the specific features we observe them to have: and that depending on the specific assumptions made we could come up with any value from 0 to 1 (e.g., Sober 2003, 38).

There is also the potential problem of new, previously unconsidered hypotheses all lumped together in the catch-all basket. Without knowing the details of what specific unconsidered hypotheses might look like, there is simply no plausible way to anticipate the apparent likelihood of a novel new hypothesis-let alone its other potential explanatory virtues. This, on some views, is essentially what happened with traditional design arguments-such arguments were the most reasonable available until Darwinian evolution provided a plausible (or better) alternative the details and likelihood of which were not previously anticipatable.

Without going into the familiar details, Darwinian processes fueled by undesigned, unplanned, chance variations that are in turn conserved or eliminated by way of natural selection would, it is argued, over time produce organisms exquisitely adapted to their environmental niches. And since many of the characteristics traditionally cited as evidences of design just were various adaptations, evolution would thus produce entities exactly fitting traditional criteria of design. Natural selection, then, unaided by intention or intervention could account for the existence of many (perhaps all) of the Rs which we in fact find in biology. (A parallel debate can be found between those who believe that life itself requires a design explanation (Meyer 2009) and those proposing naturalistic explanations (see the entry on life.)

That was-and is-widely taken as meaning that design arguments depending upon specific biological gaps would be weakened-perhaps fatally.

Premise (10)-not to mention the earlier (6)-would thus look to simply be false. What had earlier appeared to be purpose (requiring intent) was now apparently revealed as mere unintended but successful and preserved function.

Of course, relevant premises being false merely undercuts the relevant schemas in present form-it does not necessarily refute either the basic design intuition or other forms of design arguments. But some critics take a much stronger line here. Richard Dawkins, for instance, subtitles one of his books: "Why the evidence of evolution reveals a universe without design" (Dawkins, 1987). Typically underlying claims of this sort is the belief that Darwinian evolution, by providing a relevant account of the origin and development of adaptation, diversity, and the like, has explained away the alleged design in the biological realm-and an attendant designer-in much the same way that kinetic theory has explained away caloric. Indeed, this is a dominant idea underlying current responses to design arguments. However, undercutting and explaining away are not necessarily the same thing, and exactly what explaining away might mean, and what a successful explaining away might require are typically not clearly specified. So before continuing, we need clarity concerning some relevant conceptual landscape.

That an alleged explanatory factor α is provisionally explained away requires that there be an alternative explanation Σ meeting these conditions:

1. Σ is explanatorily adequate to the relevant phenomenon (structure, property, entity, event)

2. Σ can be rationally supported in terms of available (or likely) evidence

3. Σ is relevantly superior to the original in terms either of adequacy or support

4. Σ requires no essential reference to α

However, (a) - (d) are incomplete in a way directly relevant to the present discussion. Here is a very simple case. Suppose that an elderly uncle dies in suspicious circumstances, and a number of the relatives believe that the correct explanation is the direct agency of a niece who is primary heir, via deliberately and directly administering poison. However, forensic investigation establishes that the cause of death was a mix-up among medications the uncle was taking-an unfortunate confusion. The suspicious relatives, however, without missing an explanatory beat shift the niece's agency back one level, proposing that the mix-up itself was orchestrated by the niece-switching contents of prescription bottles, no doubt. And that might very well turn out to be the truth.

In that sort of case, the α in question (e.g., niecely agency) is no longer directly appealed to in the relevant initial explanatory level, but is not removed from all explanatory relevance to the phenomenon in question. In general, then, for α to be explained away in the sense of banished from all explanatory relevance the following condition must also be met:

no reference to α is required at any explanatory level underlying Σ

Roughly this means that Σ does not depend essentially on any part β of any prior explanation where α is essential to β. There are some additional possible technical qualifications required, but the general intuition should be clear.

Thus, e.g., whereas there was no need to appeal to caloric at some prior or deeper level, with design, according to various design advocates, there is still an explanatory lacuna (or implicit promissory note) requiring reference to design at some explanatory level prior to Darwinian evolution. Indeed, as some see it (and as Paley himself suggested), there are phenomena requiring explanation in design terms which cannot be explained away at any prior explanatory level (short of the ultimate level).

That some phenomenon α has been explained away can be taken to mean two very different things-either as

showing that it is no longer rational to believe that α exists

or as

showing that α does not exist

(And often, of course, both.)

For instance, few would assert that there is still an extant rational case for belief in phlogiston-any explanatory work it did at the proximate level seems to have ceased, and deeper explanatory uses for it have never subsequently materialized. Perhaps its non-existence was not positively established immediately, but removal of rational justification for belief in some entity can morph into a case for non-existence as the evidence for a rival hypothesis increases over time.

3.1.1 Level-shifting

Purported explanations can be informally divided into two broad categories-those involving agents, agency, intention, and the like; and those involving mechanism, physical causality, natural processes, and the like. The distinction is not, of course, a clean one (functioning artifacts typically involve both), but is useful enough in a rough and ready way, and in what follows agent explanations and mechanical explanations respectively will be used as convenient handles. Nothing pernicious is built into either the broad distinction or the specified terminology.

There are some instructive patterns that emerge in explanatory level-shifting attempts, and in what immediately follows some of the more basic patterns will be identified.

(a) Agent explanations

Intention, intervention, and other agency components of explanations can very frequently be pushed back to prior levels-much as many defenders of teleological arguments claim. The earlier case of the alleged poisoning of the rich uncle by the niece is a simple example of this.

But in some cases, the specifics of the agent explanation in question may make appeal to some prior level less plausible or sensible. For example, suppose that one held the view that crop circles were to be explained in terms of direct alien activity. One could, upon getting irrefutable video proof of human production of crop circles, still maintain that aliens were from a distance controlling the brains of the humans in question, and that thus the responsibility for crop circles did still lie with alien activity. While this retreat of levels preserves the basic explanation, it of course comes with a significant cost in inherent implausibility.

And in some cases, pushing specific agency back a level seems nearly unworkable. Suppose that the standard explanation of global warming was human activity, but that subsequently a complete, completely adequate, nailed down explanation in terms of solar cycles emerged. That would seem to explain away the alleged human causation, and in this sort of case it would be difficult to retreat back one level and make the case that human agency and activity were actually driving the solar cycles.

Still the level-changing possibility is as a general rule available with proposed agent explanations. And design typically is, of course, an agent explanation.

(b) Mechanical explanations

Pushing specific explanatory factors back to a prior level often works less smoothly in cases of purely mechanical/physical explanations than in intentional/agency explanations. In many attempted mechanistic relocation cases, it is difficult to see how the specific relocated explanatory factor is even supposed to work, much less generate any new explanatory traction. Exactly what would caloric do if pushed back one level, for instance?

Although level shifting of specific explanatory factors seems to work less easily within purely physical explanations, relocation attempts involving broad physical principles can sometimes avoid such difficulties. For instance, for centuries determinism was a basic background component of scientific explanations (apparently stochastic processes being explained away epistemically). Then, early in the 20th century physics was largely converted to a quantum mechanical picture of nature as involving an irreducible indeterminism at a fundamental level-apparently deterministic phenomena now being what was explained away. However, DeBroglie, Bohm and others (even for a time Einstein) tried to reinstate determinism by moving it back to an even deeper fundamental level via hidden variable theories. Although the hidden variable attempt is generally thought not to be successful, its failure is not a failure of principle.

3.1.2 Possible disputes

How one assesses the legitimacy, plausibility, or likelihood of the specific counter-explanation will bear substantial weight here, and that in turn will depend significantly on among other things background beliefs, commitments, metaphysical dispositions, and the like. If one has a prior commitment to some key α (e.g., to theism, atheism, naturalism, determinism, materialism, or teleology), or assigns a high prior to that α, the plausibility of taking the proposed (new) explanation as undercutting, defeating, or refuting α (and/or Σ) will be deeply affected, at least initially.

Tilting the conceptual landscape via prior commitments is both an equal opportunity epistemic necessity and a potential pitfall here. Insisting on pushing an explanatory factor back a level is often an indication of a strong prior commitment of some sort. Disagreement over deeper philosophical or other principles will frequently generate divergence over when something has or has not been explained away. One side, committed to the principle, will accept a level change as embodying a deeper insight into the relevant phenomenon. The other, rejecting the principle, will see an ad hoc retreat to defend an α which has in fact been explained away.

Returning to the present issue, design argument advocates will of course reject the claim that design, teleology, agency and the like have been explained away either by science generally or by Darwinian evolution in particular. Reasons will vary. Some will see any science-Darwinian evolution included-as incompetent to say anything of ultimate design relevance, pro or con. (Many on both sides of the design issue fit here.) Some will see Darwinian evolution as failing condition (a), (b) and/or (c), claiming that Darwinian evolution is not explanatorily adequate to selected α's, is inadequately supported by the evidence, and is far from superior to agency explanations of relevant phenomena. (Creationists and some-not all-'intelligent design' advocates fit here.) Some will argue that a Darwinian failure occurs at (d), citing e.g., a concept of information claimed to be both essential to evolution and freighted with agency. (Some intelligent design advocates (e.g., Dembski, 2002 and Meyer, 1998) fit here.) However, the major contention of present interest involves (e).

Historically, design cases were in fact widely understood to allow for indirect intelligent agent design and causation, the very causal structures producing the relevant phenomena being themselves deliberately designed for the purpose of producing those phenomena. For instance, it was typically believed that God could have initiated special conditions and processes at the instant of creation which operating entirely on their own could produce organisms and other intended (and designed) results with no subsequent agent intervention required. Paley himself, the authors of the Bridgewater Treatises and others were explicitly clear that whether or not something was designed was an issue largely separable from the means of production in question. Historically it was insisted that design in nature did track back eventually to intelligent agency somewhere and that any design we find in nature would not-and could not-have been there had there ultimately been no mind involved. But commentators (including many scientists) at least from the early 17th century on (e.g., Francis Bacon and Robert Boyle) very clearly distinguished the creative initiating of nature itself from interventions within the path of nature once initiated. For instance, over two centuries before Darwin, Bacon wrote:

God ... doth accomplish and fulfill his divine will [by ways] not immediate and direct, but by compass; not violating Nature, which is his own law upon the creation. (quoted in (Whewell 1834, 358))

Indeed, if the R s in question did directly indicate the influence of a mind, then means of production-whether unbroken causation or gappy-would be of minimal evidential importance. Thus, the frequent contemporary claim that design arguments all involve appeal to special divine intervention during the course of nature's history-that in short design arguments are "God-of-the-gaps" arguments-represents serious historical (and present) inaccuracy (e.g., Behe, 1996).

However, if Rs result from gapless chains of natural causal processes, the evidential impact of those Rs again threatens to become problematic and ambiguous, since there will a fortiori be at the immediate level a full natural causal account for them. Design will, in such cases, play no immediate mechanistic explanatory role, suggesting its superfluousness. But even if such conceptions were explanatorily and scientifically superfluous at that level, that does not entail that they are conceptually, alethically, inferential, or otherwise superfluous in general. The role of mind might be indirect, deeply buried, or at several levels of remove from the immediate production mechanism but would still have to be present at some level. In short, on the above picture Darwinian evolution will not meet condition (e) for explaining away design, which is not itself a shortcoming of Darwinian evolution.

But any gap-free argument will depend crucially upon the Rs in question being ultimately dependent for their eventual occurrence upon agent activity. That issue could be integrated back into an altered Schema 2 by replacing (6) with:

(6a) Design-like properties (R) are (most probably) not producible by meansultimately devoid of mind/intention-i.e., any phenomena exhibiting suchRs must be a product (at least indirectly) of intentional design.

The focus must now become whether or not the laws and conditions required for the indirect production of life, intelligent life, etc., could themselves be independent of intention, design and mind at some deep (perhaps primordial, pre-cosmic) point. In recent decades, exactly that question has arisen increasingly insistently from within the scientific community.

Intuitively, if the laws of physics were different, the evolution of life would not have taken the same path. If gravity were stronger, for example, then flying insects and giraffes would most likely not exist. The truth is far more dramatic. Even an extraordinarily small change in one of many key parameters in the laws of physics would have made life impossible anywhere in the universe. Consider two examples:

1. The expansion rate of the universe is represented by the cosmological constant Λ. If Λ were slighter greater, there would be no energy sources, such as stars. If it were slightly less, the Big Bang would have quickly led to a Big Crunch in which the universe collapsed back onto itself. For life to be possible, Λ cannot vary more than one part in 10 ⁵³ (Collins 2003)

2. Life depends on, among other things, a balance of carbon and oxygen in the universe. If the strong nuclear force were different by 0.4%, there would not be enough of one or the other for life to exist (Oberhummer, Csótó, and Schlattl 2000). Varying this constant either way "would destroy almost all carbon or almost all oxygen in every star" (Barrow 2002, 155).

Many examples of fine-tuning have to do with star formation. Stars are important since life requires a variety of elements: oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, and phosphorus. Stars contain the only known mechanism for producing large quantities of these elements and are therefore necessary for life. Lee Smolin estimates that when all of the fine-tuning examples are considered, the chance of stars existing in the universe is 1 in 10 ²²⁹. "In my opinion, a probability this tiny is not something we can let go unexplained. Luck will certainly not do here; we need some rational explanation of how something this unlikely turned out to be the case" (Smolin 1999, 45). Smolin is not merely claiming that all improbable events require an explanation, but some improbable events are special. (In poker, every set of five cards dealt to the dealer has the same probability, assuming that the cards are shuffled sufficiently. If the dealer is dealt a pair on three successive hands, no special explanation is required. If the dealer is dealt a royal flush on three successive hands, an explanation would rightly be demanded, and the improbability of this case isn't even close to the magnitude of the improbability that Smolin mentioned.) Physicists who have written on fine-tuning agree with Smolin that it cries out for an explanation. One explanation is that the universe appears to be fine-tuned for the existence of life because it literally has been constructed for life by an intelligent agent.

There are two other types of responses to fine-tuning: (i) it does not, in fact, require a special explanation, and (ii) there are alternative explanations to theistic design. Let's briefly consider these (also see the entry on fine-tuning).

Three approaches have been taken to undermine the demand for explanation presented by fine-tuning.

4.1.1.1 Weak anthropic principle

In a sense, it is necessary for the fine-tuned constants to have values in the life-permitting range: If those values were not within that range, people would not exist. The fine-tuned constants must take on the values that they have in order for scientists to be surprised by their discovery in the first place. As a matter of fact, they could not have discovered anything else. According to the weak anthropic principle, we ought not be surprised by having made such a discovery, since no other observation was possible. But if we should not have been surprised to have made such a discovery, then there is nothing unusual here that requires a special explanation. The demand for explanation is simply misplaced.

4.1.1.2 Observational selection effect

Sober gives a related but stronger argument based on observational selection effects (Sober 2009, 77-80). Say that Jones nets a large number of fish from a local lake, all of which are over 10 inches long. Let h all= 'all of the fish in the lake are over 10 inches long' and h 1/2= 'Half of the fish in the lake are over 10 inches long'. The evidence e is such that P(e | h all) > P(e | h 1/2). Now say that Jones discovers that his net is covered with 10 inch holes, preventing him from capturing any smaller fish. In that case, e does not favor one hypothesis over the other. The evidence e is an artifact of the net itself, not a random sample of the fish in the lake.

When it comes to fine-tuning, Sober considers h design='the constants have been set in place by an intelligence, specifically God', and h chance='the constants are what they are as a matter of mindless random chance'. While intuitively

P(constants are just right for life | hdesign) >
P(constants are just right for life | hchance)

one has to consider the role of the observer, who is analogous to the net in the fishing example. Since human observers could only detect constants in the life-permitting range, Sober argues, the correct probabilities are

P(you observe that the constants are right | hdesign & you exist) = P(you observe that the constants are right | hchance & you exist).

Given this equality, fine-tuning does not favor h design over h chance. The selection effect prevents any confirmation of design.

Sober's analysis is critiqued in (Monton 2006) and (Kotzen 2012). Also see (Jantzen 2014a, sec. 18.4). We should note that if Sober is correct, then the naturalistic explanations for fine-tuning considered below (4.1.2) are likewise misguided.

4.1.1.3 Probabilities do not apply

As McGrew, McGrew, and Vestrup argue (2001), there is a problem here in that, strictly speaking, mathematical probabilities do not apply in these circumstances. When a probability distribution is defined over a space of possible outcomes, it must add up to exactly 1. But for any uniform distribution over an infinitely large space, the sum of the probabilities will grow arbitrarily large as each unit interval is added up. Since the range of C is infinite, McGrew et al. conclude that there is no sense in which life-friendly universes are improbable; the probabilities are mathematically undefined.

One solution to this problem is to truncate the interval of possible values. Instead of allowing C to range from [0, ∞), one could form a finite interval [0, N], where N is very large relative to the life-permitting range of C. A probability distribution could then be defined over the truncated range.

A more rigorous solution employs measure theory. Measure is sometimes used in physics as a surrogate for probability. For example, there are many more irrational numbers than rational ones. In measure theoretic terms, almost all real numbers are irrational, where "almost all" means all but a set of zero measure. In physics, a property found for almost all of the solutions to an equation requires no explanation; it's what one should expect. It's not unusual, for instance, for a pin balancing on its tip to fall over. Falling over is to be expected. In contrast, if a property that has zero measure in the relevant space were actually observed to be the case, like the pin continuing to balance on its tip, that would demand a special explanation. Assuming one's model for the system is correct, nature appears to be strongly biased against such behavior (Gibbons, Hawking, and Stewart 1987, 736). The argument for fine-tuning can thus be recast such that almost all values of C are outside of the life-permitting range. The fact that our universe is life-permitting is therefore in need of explanation.

The question of whether probabilities either do not apply or have been improperly applied to cosmological fine-tuning continues to draw interest. For more, see (Davies 1992), (Callender 2004), (Holder 2004), (Koperski 2005), (Manson 2009), (Jantzen 2014a, sec. 18.3), and (Sober 2019, sec. 5.1). Manson (2018) argues that neither theism nor naturalism provides a better explanation for fine-tuning.

Assuming that fine-tuning does require an explanation, there are several approaches one might take (Koperski 2015, section 2.4).

4.1.2.1 Scientific progress

That the universe is fine-tuned for life is based on current science. But, just as many other anomalies have eventually been explained, so might fine-tuning. Science may one day find a naturalistic answer, eliminating the need for design. For suggestions along these lines, see (Harnik, Kribs, and Perez 2006) and (Loeb 2014).

While this is a popular stance, it is, of course, a promissory note rather than an explanation. The appeal to what might yet be discovered is not itself a rival hypothesis.

4.1.2.2 Exotic life

It's conceivable that life could exist in a universe with parameter values that we do not typically believe are life-permitting. In other words, there may be exotic forms of life that could survive in a very different sort of universe. If so, then perhaps the parameter intervals that are in fact life-permitting are not fine-tuned after all.

The main difficulty with this suggestion is that all life requires a means for overcoming the second law of thermodynamics. Life requires the extraction of energy from the environment. Any life-form imaginable must therefore have systems that allow for something like metabolism and respiration, which in turn require a minimal amount of complexity (e.g., there can be no single-molecule life forms). Many examples of fine-tuning do not allow for such complexity, however. If there were no stars, for example, then there would be no stable sources of energy and no mechanism for producing the heavier elements in the periodic table. Such a universe would lack the chemical building blocks needed for a living entity to extract energy from the environment and thereby resist the pull of entropy.

4.1.2.3 Multiverse

While the odds of winning a national lottery are low, your odds would obviously increase if you were to buy several million tickets. The same idea applies to the most popular explanation for fine-tuning: a multiverse. Perhaps physical reality consists of a massive array of universes each with a different set of values for the relevant constants. If there are many-perhaps infinitely many-universes, then the odds of a life-permitting universe being produced would seem to be much greater. While most of the universes in the multiverse would be unfit for life, so the argument goes, ours is one of the few where all of the constants have the required values.

While the philosophical literature on the multiverse continues to grow (see (Collins 2009, 2012) and (Kraay 2014)), many of the arguments against it share a common premise: a multiverse would not, by itself, be a sufficient explanation of fine-tuning. More would have to be known about the way in which universes are produced. By analogy, just because a roulette wheel has 38 spaces does not guarantee that the probability of Red 25 is 1/38. If the wheel is rigged in some way-by using magnets for example-to prevent that outcome, then the probability might be extremely small. If the table were rigged and yet Red 25 was the actual winner, that would require a special explanation. Likewise, if a property has zero measure in the space of possible universes, and yet that property is observed, its existence would still require an explanation (Earman 1987, 315). This is true regardless of whether the space of universes is finitely or infinitely large. In order to explain fine-tuning, the multiverse proponent would still have to show that the life-permitting universes do not have zero measure in the space of all universes (Koperski 2005, 307-09).

A high-profile development in design arguments over the past 20 years or so involves what has come to be known as Intelligent Design (ID). Although there are variants, it generally involves efforts to construct design arguments taking cognizance of various contemporary scientific developments (primarily in biology, biochemistry, and cosmology)-developments which, as most ID advocates see it, both reveal the inadequacy of mainstream explanatory accounts (condition (a)) and offer compelling evidence for design in nature at some level (condition (e) again).

ID advocates propose two specialized Rs- irreducible complexity (Behe 1996) and specified complex information (Dembski 1998, 2002). Although distinctions are sometimes blurred here, while ID arguments involving each of those Rs tend to be gap arguments, an additional focus on mind-reflective aspects of nature is typically more visible in ID arguments citing specified complexity than in arguments citing irreducible complexity.

The movement has elicited vociferous criticism and opposition. Opponents have pressed a number of objections against ID including, inter alia contentions that ID advocates have simply gotten the relevant science wrong, that even where the science is right the empirical evidences cited by design advocates do not constitute substantive grounds for design conclusions, that the existence of demonstrably superior alternative explanations for the phenomena cited undercuts the cogency of ID cases, and that design theories are not legitimate science, but are just disguised creationism, God-of-the-gaps arguments, religiously motivated, etc.

We will not pursue that dispute here except to note that even if the case is made that ID could not count as proper science, which is controversial, that would not in itself demonstrate a defect in design arguments as such. Science need not be seen as exhausting the space of legitimate conclusions from empirical data. In any case, the floods of vitriol in the current ID discussion suggest that much more than the propriety of selected inferences from particular empirical evidences is at issue.

A number of prominent figures historically in fact held that we could determine more or less perceptually that various things in nature were candidates for design attributions-that they were in the requisite respects design- like. Some, like William Whewell, held that we could perceptually identify some things as more than mere candidates for design (Whewell 1834, 344). Thomas Reid also held a view in this region, and Hume's Cleanthes made suggestions in this direction.

If something like that were the operative process, then ID, in trying to forge a scientific link to design in the sense of inferences from empirically determined evidences would be misconstructing the actual basis for design belief, as would be design arguments more generally. It is perhaps telling, in this regard, that scientific theorizing typically involves substantial creativity and that the resultant theories are typically novel and unexpected. Design intuitions, however, do not seem to emerge as novel construals from creative grappling with data, but are embedded in our thinking nearly naturally-so much so that, again, Crick thinks that biologists have to be immunized against it.

Perception and appreciation of the incredible intricacy and the beauty of things in nature-whether biological or cosmic-has certainly inclined many toward thoughts of purpose and design in nature, and has constituted important moments of affirmation for those who already accept design positions. The status of the corresponding arguments of course, is not only a matter of current dispute, but the temperature of the dispute seems to be on the rise. And regardless of what one thinks of the arguments at this point, so long as nature has the power to move us (as even Kant admitted that the 'starry heavens above' did), design convictions and arguments are unlikely to disappear quietly.

Babbage, Charles, 1838. Ninth Bridgewater Treatise: A Fragment, London: J. Murray.

Barrow, John D. 2002. The Constants of Nature, New York: Pantheon Books.

Behe, Michael, 1996. Darwin's Black Box, New York: Free Press.

Boyle, Robert, 1685-6. Free Inquiry into the Vulgarly Receiv'd Notions of Nature, in Hall 1965, pp. 150-153.

---, 1688. A Disquisition about the Final Causes of Natural Things, London: John Taylor.

Broad, C.D., 1925. The Mind and its Place in Nature, London: Kegan Paul.

Callender, Craig, 2004. "Measures, Explanations and the Past: Should 'Special' Initial Conditions Be Explained," British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 55(2): 195-217.

Chesterton, G.K., 1908. "Ethics of Elfland," in Orthodoxy, New York: John Lane, pp. 106-7.

Collins, Robin, 2003. "Evidence for Fine-Tuning," in God and Design: The Teleological Argument and Modern Science, edited by Neil A. Manson, 178-99. New York: Routledge.

---, 2009. "The Teleological Argument: An Exploration of the Fine-Tuning of the Universe," in The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, edited by William Lane Craig and J.P. Moreland, 202-81. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell.

---, 2012. "Modern Cosmology and Anthropic Fine-Tuning: Three Approaches," in Georges Lemaître: Life, Science and Legacy, edited by Rodney D. Holder and Simon Mitton. Berlin; Heidelberg: Springer.

Crick, Francis, 1988. What Mad Pursuit, New York: Basic.

Darwin, Charles, 1859 [1966]. On the Origin of Species, Facsimile first edition, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Darwin, Charles, 1887. Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, Vol. 1, Francis Darwin (ed.), New York: D. Appleton.

---, 1902 [1995]. The Life of Charles Darwin, Francis Darwin (ed.), London: Senate.

---, 1987. Charles Darwin's Notebooks, 1836-1844. Transcribed and edited by Paul Barrett, Peter Gautrey, Sandra Herbert, Dave Kohn and Sydney Smith, Ithaca: Cornell.

Davies, Paul, 1992. The Mind of God, New York: Simon & Schuster.

---, 1995. Are We Alone?, New York: Basic.

Dawkins, Richard, 1987. Blind Watchmaker, New York: Norton.

Dembski, William, 1998. The Design Inference, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Earman, John. 1987. "The SAP Also Rises: A Critical Examination of the Anthropic Principle," American Philosophical Quarterly, 24(4): 307-17.

Edwards, Jonathan, 1980. The Works of Jonathan Edwards Wallace Anderson (ed.), Volume 6:Scientific and Philosophical Writings, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Fitelson, Brandon, 2007. "Likelihood, Bayesianism, and Relational Confirmation," Synthese, 156: 473-489.

Foster, John, 1982-3. "Induction, Explanation and Natural Necessity," Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 83: 87-101.

Foster, John, 1985. A. J. Ayer, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Gillispie, Neal C., 1990. "Divine Design and the Industrial Revolution: William Paley's Abortive Reform of Natural Theology," Isis, 81: 213-229.

Glass, Marvin and Julian Wolfe, 1986. "Paley's Design Argument for God," Sophia, 25(2): 17-19.

Gibbons, G. W., S. W. Hawking, and J. M. Stewart, 1987. "A Natural Measure on the Set of All Universes," Nuclear Physics B, 281(3-4): 736-51.

Hall, Marie Boas, 1965. Robert Boyle on Natural Philosophy, Bloomington: Indiana University.

Harnik, Roni, Graham Kribs, and Gilad Perez, 2006. "A Universe without Weak Interactions," Physical Review D, 74(3), doi:10.1103/PhysRevD.74.035006

Harrison, Edward, 1985. Masks of the Universe, New York: Macmillan.

Holder, Rodney D., 2004. God, the Multiverse, and Everything: Modern Cosmology and the Argument from Design, Aldershot: Ashgate.

Hoyle, Frederick, 1982. "The Universe: Past and Present Reflections," Annual Review of Astronomy and Astrophysics, 20: 1-35.

Hume, David, 1779 [1998]. Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, Richard Popkin (ed.), Indianapolis: Hackett.

Janet, Paul, 1884. Final Causes, 2nd edition, Robert Flint (trans.), New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.

Jantzen, Benjamin C., 2014a. An Introduction to Design Arguments, New York: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2014b. "Piecewise versus Total Support: How to Deal with Background Information in Likelihood Arguments," Philosophy of Science, 81(3): 313-31.

Kingsley, Charles, 1890. Water Babies, London: Macmillan.

Koperski, Jeffrey. 2005. "Should We Care about Fine-Tuning?" British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 56(2): 303-19.

---, 2015. The Physics of Theism: God, Physics, and the Philosophy of Science. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell.

Kotzen, Matthew, 2012. "Selection Biases in Likelihood Arguments," British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 63(4): 825-39.

Kraay, Klaas. 2014. God and the Multiverse: Scientific, Philosophical, and Theological Perspectives. Routledge.

Lenoir, Timothy, 1982. Strategy of Life, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Lipton, Peter, 1991. Inference to the Best Explanation. 1st Edition. London: Routledge.

Loeb, Abraham, 2014. "The Habitable Epoch of the Early Universe," International Journal of Astrobiology, 13(4): 337-339.

Manson, Neil (ed.), 2003. God and Design: The teleological argument and modern science, New York: Routledge.

---, 2009. "The Fine-Tuning Argument," Philosophy Compass, 4(1): 271-86.

---, 2018. "How Not to Be Generous to Fine-Tuning Sceptics," Religious Studies, first online 21 September 2018, doi:10.1017/S0034412518000586

McGrew, Timothy, Lydia McGrew, and Eric Vestrup, 2001. "Probabilities and the Fine-Tuning Argument: A Sceptical View," Mind, 110(440): 1027-38.

McPherson, Thomas, 1965. The Philosophy of Religion, London: Van Nostrand.

Meyer, Stephen, 1998. "DNA by Design: An inference to the best explanation for the origin of biological information," Rhetoric & Public Affairs, 1: 519-555.

---, 2009. Signature in the Cell: DNA and the Evidence for Intelligent Design, New York: HarperOne.

Monton, Bradley. 2006. "God, Fine-Tuning, and the Problem of Old Evidence," British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 57: 405-24.

Murray, Michael (ed.), 1999. Reason for the Hope Within, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

Oberhummer, H.H., A. Csótó, and H. Schlattl. 2000. "Fine-Tuning of Carbon Based Life in the Universe by Triple-Alpha Process in Red Giants," Science, 289: 88-90.

Paley, William, 1802. Natural Theology, Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1963.

Peirce, Charles S., 1955. Philosophical Writings of Peirce, Justus Buchler (ed.), New York: Dover.

Penrose, Roger, 1990. The Emperor's New Mind, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ratzsch, Del, 2001. Nature, Design and Science, Albany: SUNY Press.

Rott, Hans, 2010. "Idealizations, Intertheory Explanations and Conditionals," in Belief Revision Meets Philosophy of Science (Logic, Epistemology, and the Unity of Science, Volume 21), edited by E. J. Olsson and S. Enqvist, 59-76, New York: Springer.

---, 2003. "Perceiving Design," in Manson 2003, pp. 124-144.

Smolin, Lee. 1999. The Life of the Cosmos, New York: Oxford University Press.

Sober, Elliott, 1993. Philosophy of Biology, Boulder: Westview.

---, 2003. "The Design Argument" in Manson 2003, pp. 27-54.

---, 2009. "Absence of Evidence and Evidence of Absence: Evidential Transitivity in Connection with Fossils, Fishing, Fine-Tuning, and Firing Squads," Philosophical Studies, 143(1): 63-90.

---, 2019. The Design Argument. Elements in the Philosophy of Religion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. doi: 10.1017/9781108558068

Whewell, William, 1834. Astronomy and General Physics Considered with Reference to Natural Theology, London: William Pickering.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Teleological Arguments for God's Existence

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
It is not uncommon for humans to find themselves with the intuition that random, unplanned, unexplained accident just couldn't produce the order, beauty, elegance, and seeming purpose that we experience in the natural world around us. As Hume's interlocutor Cleanthes put it, we seem to see "the image of mind reflected on us from innumerable objects" in nature.

# data[].attributes.headline
8.8 The Problem of Evil: Crash Course Philosophy #13

# data[].attributes.subject
8.8 The Problem of Evil: Crash Course Philosophy #13

# data[].attributes.body
This video explores the biggest philosophical question humanity faces: why is there evil?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Problem of Evil: Crash Course Philosophy #13

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the problem of evil that challenges the existence of a god by questioning how evil could possibly exist if god is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnibenevolent.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The term "God" is used with a wide variety of different meanings. These tend to fall, however, into two main groups. On the one hand, there are metaphysical interpretations of the term: God is a prime mover, or a first cause, or a necessary being that has its necessity of itself, or the ground of being, or a being whose essence is identical with its existence. Or God is not one being among other beings-even a supremely great being-but, instead, being itself. Or God is an ultimate reality to which no concepts truly apply.

On the other hand, there are interpretations that connect the term "God" in a clear and relatively straightforward way with religious attitudes, such as those of worship, and with very important human desires, such as the desires that good will triumph, that justice be done, and that the world not be one where death marks the end of the individual's existence.

What properties must something have if it is to be an appropriate object of worship, and if it is to provide reason for thinking that there is a reasonable chance that the fundamental human desires just mentioned will be fulfilled? A natural answer is that God must be a person who, at the very least, is very powerful, very knowledgeable, and morally very good. But if such a being exists, then it seems initially puzzling why various evils exist. For many of the very undesirable states of affairs that the world contains are such as could be eliminated, or prevented, by a being who was only moderately powerful, while, given that humans are aware of such evils, a being only as knowledgeable as humans would be aware of their existence. Finally, even a moderately good human being, given the power to do so, would eliminate those evils. Why, then, do such undesirable states of affairs exist, if there is a being who is very powerful, very knowledgeable, and very good?

What one has here, however, is not just a puzzle, since the question can, of course, be recast as an argument for the non-existence of God. Thus if, for simplicity, we focus on a conception of God as all-powerful, all-knowing, and perfectly good, one very concise way of formulating such an argument is as follows:

1. If God exists, then God is omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect.

2. If God is omnipotent, then God has the power to eliminate all evil.

3. If God is omniscient, then God knows when evil exists.

4. If God is morally perfect, then God has the desire to eliminate all evil.

5. Evil exists.

6. If evil exists and God exists, then either God doesn't have the power to eliminate all evil, or doesn't know when evil exists, or doesn't have the desire to eliminate all evil.

7. Therefore, God doesn't exist.

That this argument is valid is perhaps most easily seen by a reductio argument, in which one assumes that the conclusion-(7)-is false, and then shows that the denial of (7), along with premises (1) through (6), leads to a contradiction. Thus if, contrary to (7), God exists, it follows from (1) that God is omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect. This, together with (2), (3), and (4) then entails that God has the power to eliminate all evil, that God knows when evil exists, and that God has the desire to eliminate all evil. But when (5) is conjoined with the reductio assumption that God exists, it then follows via modus ponens from (6) that either God doesn't have the power to eliminate all evil, or doesn't know when evil exists, or doesn't have the desire to eliminate all evil. Thus we have a contradiction, and so premises (1) through (6) do validly imply (7).

Whether the argument is sound is, of course, a further question, for it may be that one or more of the premises is false. The point here, however, is simply that when one conceives of God as unlimited with respect to power, knowledge, and moral goodness, the existence of evil quickly gives rise to potentially serious arguments against the existence of God.

Is the situation different if one shifts to a deity who is not omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect? The answer depends on the details. Thus, if one considers a deity who is omniscient and morally perfect, but not omnipotent, then evil presumably would not pose a problem if such a deity were conceived of as too remote from Earth to prevent the evils we find here. But given a deity who falls considerably short of omnipotence, omniscience, and moral perfection, but who could intervene in our world to prevent many evils, and who knows of those evils, it would seem that an argument rather similar to the above could be formulated by focusing not on the mere existence of evil, but upon the existence of evils that such a deity could have prevented.

But what if God, rather than being characterized in terms of knowledge, power, and goodness, is defined in some more metaphysical way-for example, as the ground of being, or as being itself? The answer will depend on whether, having defined God in such purely metaphysical terms, one can go on to argue that such an entity will also possess at least very great power, knowledge, and moral goodness. If so, evil is once again a problem.

By contrast, if God is conceived of in a purely metaphysical way, and if no connection can be forged between the relevant metaphysical properties and the possession of significant power, knowledge, and goodness, then the problem of evil is irrelevant. But when that is the case, it would seem that God thereby ceases to be a being who is either an appropriate object of religious attitudes, or a ground for believing that fundamental human hopes are not in vain.

The argument from evil focuses upon the fact that the world appears to contain states of affairs that are bad, or undesirable, or that should have been prevented by any being that could have done so, and it asks how the existence of such states of affairs is to be squared with the existence of God. But the argument can be formulated in two very different ways. First, it can be formulated as a purely deductive argument that attempts to show that there are certain facts about the evil in the world that are logically incompatible with the existence of God. One especially ambitious form of this first sort of argument attempts to establish the very strong claim that it is logically impossible for it to be the case both that there is any evil at all, and that God exists. The argument set out in the preceding section is just such an argument.

Alternatively, rather than being formulated as a deductive argument for the very strong claim that it is logically impossible for both God and evil to exist, (or for God and certain types, or instances, or a certain amount of evil to exist), the argument from evil can instead be formulated as an evidential (or inductive/probabilistic) argument for the more modest claim that there are evils that actually exist in the world that make it unlikely-or perhaps very unlikely-that God exists.

The choice between incompatibility formulations and evidential formulations is discussed below, in section 2.

Any version of the argument from evil claims that there is some fact concerning the evil in the world such that the existence of God-understood as at least a very powerful, very knowledgeable, and morally very good person, and, ideally, as an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person-is either logically precluded, or rendered unlikely, by that fact. But versions of the argument often differ quite significantly with respect to what the relevant fact is. Sometimes, as in premise (5) in the argument set out above, the appeal is to the mere existence of any evil whatever. Sometimes, on the other hand, it is to the existence of a certain amount of evil. And sometimes it is to the existence of evils of a certain specified sort.

To formulate the argument from evil in terms of the mere existence of any evil at all is to abstract to the greatest extent possible from detailed information about the evils that are found in the world, and so one is assuming, in effect, that such information cannot be crucial for the argument. But is it clear that this is right? For might one not feel that while the world would be better off without the vast majority of evils, this is not so for absolutely all evils? Thus some would argue, for example, that the frustration that one experiences in trying to solve a difficult problem is outweighed by the satisfaction of arriving at a solution, and therefore that the world is a better place because it contains such evils. Alternatively, it has been argued that the world is a better place if people develop desirable traits of character-such as patience, and courage-by struggling against obstacles, including suffering. But if either of these things is the case, then the prevention of all evil might well make the world a worse place.

It seems possible, then, that there might be evils that are logically necessary for goods that outweigh them, and this possibility provides a reason, accordingly, for questioning one of the premises in the argument set out earlier-namely, premise (4), where it is claimed that if God is morally perfect, then God has the desire to eliminate all evil.

But there is also another reason why that claim is problematic, which arises out of a particular conception of free will-namely, a libertarian conception. According to this view of free will, and in contrast with what are known as compatibilist approaches, free will is incompatible with determinism, and so it is impossible even for an omnipotent being to make it the case that someone freely chooses to do what is right.

Many people claim, however, that the world is a better place if it contains individuals who possess libertarian free will, rather than individuals who are free only in a sense that is compatible with one's actions being completely determined. If this claim can be made plausible, one can argue, first, that God would have a good reason for creating a world with individuals who possessed libertarian free will, but secondly, that if he did choose to create such a world, even he could not ensure that no one would ever choose to do something morally wrong. The good of libertarian free will requires, in short, the possibility of moral evil.

Neither of these lines of argument is immune from challenge. As regards the former, one can argue that the examples that are typically advanced of cases where some evil is logically necessary for a greater good that outweighs the evil are not really, upon close examination, convincing, while, as regards the latter, there is a serious problem of making sense of libertarian free will, for although there is no difficulty about the idea of actions that are not causally determined, libertarian free will requires more than the mere absence of determinism, and the difficulty arises when one attempts to say what that something more is.

But although these challenges are important, and may very well turn out to be right, it is fair to say, first, that it has not yet been established that there is no coherent conception of libertarian free will, and, secondly, that it is, at least, very doubtful that one can establish that there cannot be cases where some evil is logically necessary for a greater good that outweighs it without appealing to some substantive, and probably controversial, moral theory.

The upshot is that the idea that either the actuality of certain undesirable states of affairs, or at least the possibility, may be logically necessary for goods that outweigh them, is not without some initial plausibility, and if some such claim can be sustained, it will follow immediately that the mere existence of evil cannot be incompatible with the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect being.

How does this bear upon evidential formulations of the argument from evil? The answer would seem to be that if there can be evils that are logically necessary for goods that outweigh them, then it is hard to see how the mere existence of evil-in the absence of further information-can provide much in the way of evidence against the existence of God.

What if one shifts to a slightly less abstract formulation of the argument from evil that is based upon the premise that the world contains a certain amount of evil, or upon the premise that the world contains at least some natural evil? Then one is including marginally more information. But one is still assuming, in effect, that most of the detailed information about the evils found in the world is completely irrelevant to the argument from evil, and a little reflection brings out how very implausible this assumption is. So, for example, consider a world that contains a billion units of natural evil. Is this a good starting point for an argument from evil? The answer is that, if either a deontological approach to ethics is correct, or a form of consequentialism that takes the distribution of goods and evils into account, rather than, say, simply the total amount of goods and evils, whether this fact is an impressive reason for questioning the existence of God surely depends on further details about the world. If those billion units are uniformly distributed over trillions of people whose lives are otherwise extremely satisfying and ecstatically happy, it is not easy to see a serious problem of evil. But if, on the other hand, the billion units of natural evil fell upon a single innocent person, and produced a life that was, throughout, one of extraordinarily intense pain, then surely there would be a very serious problem of evil.

Details concerning such things as how suffering and other evils are distributed over individuals, and the nature of those who undergo the evils, are, then, of crucial importance. Thus it is relevant, for example, that many innocent children suffer agonizing deaths. It is relevant that animals suffer, and that they did so before there were any persons to observe their suffering, and to feel sympathy for them. It is also relevant that, on the one hand, the suffering that people undergo apparently bears no relation to the moral quality of their lives, and, on the other, that it bears a very clear relation to the wealth and medical knowledge of the societies in which they live.

The prospects for a successful abstract version of the argument from evil would seem, therefore, rather problematic. It is conceivable, of course, that the correct moral principles entail that there cannot be any evils whose actuality or possibility makes for a better world. But to attempt to set out a version of the argument from evil that requires a defense of that thesis is certainly to swim upstream. A much more promising approach, surely, is to focus, instead, simply upon those evils that are thought, by the vast majority of people, to pose at least a prima facie problem for the rationality of belief in an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person.

Given that the preceding observations are rather obvious ones, one might have expected that discussions of the argument from evil would have centered mainly upon concrete formulations of the argument. Rather surprisingly, that has not been so. Indeed, some authors seem to focus almost exclusively upon very abstract versions of the argument.

One of the more striking illustrations of this phenomenon is provided by Alvin Plantinga's discussions of the problem of evil. In God and Other Minds, in The Nature of Necessity, and in God, Freedom, and Evil, for example, Plantinga, starting out from an examination of John L. Mackie's essay "Evil and Omnipotence" (1955), in which Mackie had defended an incompatibility version of the argument from evil, focuses mainly on the question of whether the existence of God is compatible with the existence of evil, although there are also short discussions of whether the existence of God is compatible with the existence of a given quantity of evil, and of whether the existence of a certain amount of evil renders the existence of God unlikely. (The latter topic is then the total focus of attention in his long article, "The Probabilistic Argument from Evil".)

That Plantinga initially focused upon abstract formulations of the argument from evil was not, perhaps, surprising, given that a number of writers-including Mackie, H. J. McCloskey (1960), and H. D. Aiken (1957-58)-had defended incompatibility versions of the argument from evil, and it is natural to formulate such arguments in an abstract way, since although one may wish to distinguish, for example, between natural evils and moral evils, reference to concrete cases of evil would not seem to add anything. But once one shifts to probabilistic formulations of the argument from evil, the situation is very different: details about concrete cases of evil may be evidentially crucial.

The problem, then, is that Plantinga not only started out by focusing on very abstract versions of the argument from evil, but also maintained this focus throughout. The explanation of this may lie in the fact that Plantinga seems to have believed that if it can be shown that the existence of God is neither incompatible with, nor rendered improbable by, either (1) the mere existence of evil, or (2) the existence of a specified amount of evil, then no philosophical problem remains. People may find, of course, that they are still troubled by the existence of specific evils, but this, Plantinga seems to be believe, is a religious problem, and what is called for, he suggests, is not philosophical argument, but "pastoral care" (1974a, 63-4).

Plantinga's view here, however, is very implausible. For not only can the argument from evil be formulated in terms of specific evils, but that is the natural way to do so, given that it is only certain types of evils that are generally viewed as raising a serious problem with respect to the rationality of belief in God. To concentrate exclusively on abstract versions of the argument from evil is therefore to ignore the most plausible and challenging versions of the argument.

Consider, now, the following formulation of the argument from evil, which, in contrast to the abstract version of the argument from evil set out in section 1.1, focuses on quite concrete types of evil:

1. There exist states of affairs in which animals die agonizing deaths in forest fires, or where children undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer, and that (a) are intrinsically bad or undesirable, and (b) are such that any omnipotent person has the power to prevent them without thereby either allowing an equal or greater evil, or preventing an equal or greater good.

2. For any state of affairs (that is actual), the existence of that state of affairs is not prevented by anyone.

3. For any state of affairs, and any person, if the state of affairs is intrinsically bad, and the person has the power to prevent that state of affairs without thereby either allowing an equal or greater evil, or preventing an equal or greater good, but does not do so, then that person is not both omniscient and morally perfect.

Therefore, from (1), (2), and (3):

1. There is no omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person.

2. If God exists, then he is an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person.

Therefore:

As it stands, this argument is deductively valid. (Here is a proof.) However it is likely to be challenged in various ways. In particular, one vulnerable point is the claim, made in the last part of statement (1), that an omnipotent and omniscient person could have prevented those states of affairs without thereby either allowing an equal or greater evil, or preventing an equal or greater good, and when this is challenged, an inductive step will presumably be introduced, one that moves from what we know about the undesirable states of affairs in question to a conclusion about the overall value of those states of affairs, all things considered-including things that may well lie outside our ken.

But the above argument is subject to a very different sort of criticism, one that is connected with a feature of the above argument which seems to me important, but which is not often commented upon-the fact, namely, that the above argument is formulated in terms of axiological concepts, that is, in terms of the goodness or badness, the desirability or undesirability, of states of affairs. The criticism that arises from this feature centers on statement (3), which asserts that an omniscient and morally perfect being would prevent the existence of any states of affairs that are intrinsically bad or undesirable, and whose prevention he could achieve without either allowing an equal or greater evil, or preventing an equal or greater good. For one can ask how this claim is to be justified. One answer that might be offered would be that some form of consequentialism is true-such as, for example, the view that an action that fails to maximize the balance of good states of affairs over bad states of affairs is morally wrong. But the difficulty then is that any such assumption is likely to be a deeply controversial assumption that many theists would certainly reject.

The problem, in short, is that any axiological formulation of the argument from evil, as it stands, is incomplete in a crucial respect, since it fails to make explicit how a failure to bring about good states of affairs, or a failure to prevent bad states of affairs, entails that one is acting in a morally wrong way. Moreover, the natural way of removing this incompleteness is by appealing to what are in fact controversial ethical claims, such as the claim that the right action is the one that maximizes expected value. The result, in turn, is that discussions may very well become sidetracked on issues that are, in fact, not really crucial-such as, for example, the question of whether God would be morally blameworthy if he failed to create the best world that he could.

The alternative to an axiological formulation is a deontological formulation. Here the idea is that rather than employing concepts that focus upon the value or disvalue of states of affairs, one instead uses concepts that focus upon the rightness and wrongness of actions, and upon the properties-rightmaking properties and wrongmaking properties-that determine whether an action is one that ought to be performed, or ought not to be performed, other things being equal. When the argument is thus formulated, there is no problematic bridge that needs to be introduced connecting the goodness and badness of states of affairs with the rightness and wrongness of actions.

How is the argument from evil best formulated? As an incompatibility argument, or as an evidential argument? In section 1.1, an incompatibility formulation of a very abstract sort was set out, which appealed to the mere fact that the world contains at least some evil. That formulation involved the following crucial premise:

If God is morally perfect, then God has the desire to eliminate all evil.

The problem with that premise, as we saw, is that it can be argued that some evils are such that their actuality, or at least their possibility, is logically necessary for goods that outweigh them, in which case it is not true that a perfectly good being would want to eliminate such evils.

In section 1.4, a much more concrete version of an incompatibility argument was set out, which, rather than appealing to the mere existence of some evil or other, appealed to specific types of evil-in particular, situations where animals die agonizing deaths in forest fires, or where children undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer. The thrust of the argument was then that, first of all, an omniscient and omnipotent person could have prevented the existence of such evils without thereby either allowing equal or greater evils, or preventing equal or greater goods, and, secondly, that any omniscient and morally perfect person will prevent the existence of such evils if that can be done without either allowing equal or greater evils, or preventing equal or greater goods.

The second of these claims avoids the objections that can be directed against the stronger claim that was involved in the argument set out in section 1.1-that is, the claim that if God is morally perfect, then God has the desire to eliminate all evil. But the shift to the more modest claim requires that one move from the very modest claim that evil exists to the stronger claim that there are certain evils that an omniscient and omnipotent person could have prevented the existence of such evils without thereby either allowing equal or greater evils, or preventing equal or greater goods, and the question arises as to how that claim can be supported. In particular, can it be established by means of a purely deductive argument?

Consider, in particular, the relevant premise in the more concrete version of the argument from evil set out in section 1.4, namely:

There exist states of affairs in which animals die agonizing deaths in forest fires, or where children undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer, and that (a) are intrinsically bad or undesirable, and (b) are such that any omnipotent person has the power to prevent them without thereby either allowing an equal or greater evil, or preventing an equal or greater good.

How would one go about establishing via a purely deductive argument that a deer's suffering a slow and painful death because of a forest fire, or a child's undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer, is not logically necessary either to achieve a greater good or to avoid a greater evil? If one had knowledge of the totality of morally relevant properties, then it might well be possible to show both that there are no greater evils that can be avoided only at the cost of the evil in question, and that there are no greater goods that are possible only given that evil. Do we have such knowledge? Some moral theorists would claim that we do, and that it is possible to set out a complete and correct moral theory. But this is certainly a highly controversial metaethical claim, and, as a consequence, the prospects for establishing a premise such as (1) via a deductive argument do not appear promising, at least given the present state of moral theory.

But if one cannot establish (1) via a deductive argument from one's moral theory, cannot it be argued that that will lead to skepticism about whether one can know what human actions are morally right and morally wrong? This is a serious question, and it may well be that such knowledge is ruled out. But as will become clear when we consider evidential versions of the argument from evil, it may well be that one can have justified beliefs about the rightness and wrongness of actions.

If a premise such as (1) cannot, at least at present, be established deductively, then the only possibility, it would seem, is to offer some sort of inductive argument in support of the relevant premise. But if this is right, then it is surely best to get that crucial inductive step out into the open, and thus to formulate the argument from evil not as a deductive argument for the very strong claim that it is logically impossible for both God and evil to exist, (or for God and certain types, or instances, of evil to exist), but as an evidential (inductive/probabilistic) argument for the more modest claim that there are evils that actually exist in the world that make it unlikely that God exists.

If the argument from evil is given an evidential formulation, what form should that take? There appear to be four main possibilities that have been suggested in recent discussions. The first, which might be called the direct inductive approach, involves the idea that one can show that theism is unlikely to be true without comparing theism with any alternative hypothesis, other than the mere denial of theism. At the heart of this first approach, which was set out by William Rowe, is the idea that one sound type of inductive inference is what might be referred to as instantial generalization, where this is a matter of projecting a generalization that has been found to hold in all cases that have been so far examined to all cases whatever.

The second, which can be labeled the indirect inductive approach, argues instead that theism can be shown to be unlikely to be true by establishing that there is some alternative hypothesis-other than the mere negation of theism-that is logically incompatible with theism, and more probable than theism. This approach, which was originally used by David Hume in one of his arguments in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, and which has been set out and defended in a detailed way by Paul Draper, can be viewed as involving an inference to the best explanation, a type of inductive inference that was discovered by C. S. Pierce, and which is now very widely accepted.

The third approach, which has been advanced by William Rowe, involves what might be referred to as a Bayesian approach, and it differs from the first two approaches in that it does not involve either instantial generalization or inference to the best explanation, or, indeed, any sort of inductive inference. The idea, instead, is to start out from premises that are themselves substantive probabilistic claims, and then to show that it follows deductively from those premises, via axioms of probability theory, that it is unlikely that God exists.

The fourth and final approach, which has been set out by Michael Tooley, involves the idea of bringing a substantive theory of inductive logic, or logical probability, to bear upon the argument from evil, and then to argue that when this is done, one can derive a formula giving the probability that God does not exist relative to information about the number of apparent evils to be found in the world.

These four approaches will be set out and considered in the sections that follow.

3.2.1 A Concrete, Deontological, and Direct Inductive Formulation

The basic idea behind a direct inductive formulation of the argument from evil is that the argument involves a crucial inductive step that takes the form of an inductive projection or generalization in which one moves from a premise concerning the known moral properties of some state of affairs to a conclusion about the likely overall moral worth of that state of affairs, given all its moral properties, both known and unknown.

Such a direct inductive argument might, for example, take the following form:

There are events in our world - such as an animal's dying an agonizing death in a forest fire, and a child's undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer - such that the actions of allowing those events, when one could prevent them, both (a) have very serious, known wrongmaking characteristics, and (b) have no rightmaking characteristics of which we are aware that are sufficient to balance out the known wrongmaking properties.

Therefore it is likely that:

1. For any such action, the totality of the wrongmaking properties, both known and unknown, outweighs the totality of the rightmaking properties,both known and unknown.

2. Any action whose wrongmaking properties outweigh its rightmaking properties is morally wrong.

Therefore, from (2) and (3) :

1. Such actions are morally wrong.

2. For any action whatever, an omnipotent and omniscient being is capable of not performing that action.

Therefore, from (4) and (5):

1. If there is an omnipotent and omniscient being, then that being performs some morally wrong actions.

2. A being that performs morally wrong actions is not morally perfect.

Therefore, from (6) and (7):

1. If there is an omnipotent and omniscient being, that being is not morally perfect.

2. God is by definition an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person.

Therefore, from (8) and (9):

When the argument from evil is formulated in this way, it involves five premises, set out at steps (1), (3), (5), (7) and (9). Statement (1) involves both empirical claims, and moral claims, but the empirical claims are surely true, and, setting aside the question of the existence of objective rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, the moral claims are surely also very plausible. The other four premises, set out at steps (3), (5), (7) and (9), are plausibly viewed as analytic truths.

As regards the logic of the argument, all of the steps in the argument, other than the inference from (1) to (2), are deductive, and are either clearly valid as they stand, or could be made so by trivial expansions of the argument at the relevant points. The upshot, accordingly, is that the above argument appears to stand or fall with the defensibility of the inductive inference from (1) to (2). The crucial questions, accordingly, are, first, exactly what the form of that inductive inference is, and, secondly, whether it is sound.

3.2.2 A Natural Account of the Logic of the Inductive Step

A familiar and very common sort of inductive inference involves moving from information to the effect that all observed things of a certain type have a certain property to the conclusion that absolutely all things of the type in question have the relevant property. Could the inductive step in the evidential argument from evil perhaps be of that form?

One philosopher who has suggested that this is the case is William Rowe, in his 1991 article, "Ruminations about Evil". Let us consider, then, whether that view can be sustained.

In that article, Rowe formulates the premise of the crucial inference as follows:

(P) No good state of affairs that we know of is such that an omnipotent, omniscient being's obtaining it would morally justify that being's permitting E1 or E2. (1991, 72)

(Here "E1" refers to a case of a fawn who dies in lingering and terrible fashion as a result of a forest fire, and "E2" to the case of a young girl who is brutally raped, beaten, and murdered.)

Commenting on P, Rowe emphasizes that what proposition P says is not simply that we cannot see how various goods would justify an omnipotent, omniscient being's permitting E1 or E2, but rather,

The good states of affairs I know of, when I reflect on them, meet one or both of the following conditions: either an omnipotent being could obtain them without having to permit either E1 or E2, or obtaining them wouldn't morally justify that being in permitting E1 or E2. (1991, 72)

Rowe then goes on to say that:

... if this is so, I have reason to conclude that:
(Q) No good state of affairs is such that an omnipotent, omniscient being's obtaining it would morally justify that being's permitting E1 or E2.
(1991, 72)

Rowe uses the letter 'J' "to stand for the property a good has just in case obtaining that good would justify an omnipotent, omniscient being in permitting E1 or E2" (1991, 73). When this is done, the above inference can be compactly represented as follows:

Therefore, probably:

Rowe next refers to Plantinga's criticism of this inference, and he argues that Plantinga's criticism now amounts to the claim that

we are justified in inferring Q (No good has J) from P (No good we know of has J) only if we have a good reason to think that if there were a good that has J it would be a good that we are acquainted with and could see to have J. For the question can be raised: How can we have confidence in this inference unless we have a good reason to think that were a good to have J it would likely be a good within our ken? (1991, 73)

Rowe's response is then as follows:

My answer is that we are justified in making this inference in the same way we are justified in making the many inferences we constantly make from the known to the unknown. All of us are constantly inferring from the \(A\)s we know of to the \(A\)s we don't know of. If we observe many \(A\)s and note that all of them are \(B\)s we are justified in believing that the As we haven't observed are also \(B\)s. Of course, these inferences may be defeated. We may find some independent reason to think that if an \(A\) were a \(B\) it would likely not be among the \(A\)s we have observed. But to claim that we cannot be justified in making such inferences unless we already know, or have good reason to believe, that were an \(A\) not to be a \(B\) it would likely be among the As we've observed is simply to encourage radical skepticism concerning inductive reasoning in general. (1991, 73)

Finally, Rowe points out that:

... in considering the inference from P to Q it is very important to distinguish two criticisms:

1. One is entitled to infer Q from P only if she has a good reason to think that if some good had J it would be a good that she knows of.

2. One is entitled to infer Q from P only if she has no reason to think that if some good had J it would likely not be a good that she knows of.

Plantinga's criticism is of type (A). For the reason given, it is not a cogent criticism. But a criticism of type (B) is entirely proper to advance against any inductive inference of the sort we are considering. (1991, 73-4)

In view of the last point, Rowe concludes that "one important route for the theist to explore is whether there is some reason to think that were a good to have J it either would not be a good within our ken or would be such that although we apprehend this good we are incapable of determining that it has J," (1991, 74).

3.2.3 An Evaluation of this Account of the Inductive Step

First, Rowe is right that a criticism of type (A) does involve "radical skepticism of inductive reasoning in general". But, secondly, having granted that point, how satisfactory is Rowe's account of the reasoning involved? To answer that question, what one needs to notice is that Rowe's claim that "if we observe many \(A\)s and note that all of them are \(B\)s we are justified in believing that the \(A\)s we haven't observed are also \(B\)s" is somewhat ambiguous, since while the claim that "we are justified in believing that the \(A\)s we haven't observed are also \(B\)s" might naturally be interpreted as saying

We are justified in believing that all the \(A\)s that we haven't observed are also \(B\)s

it is possible to construe it as making, instead, the following, much weaker claim

We are justified in believing of each of the \(A\)s that we haven't observed that that \(A\) is also a \(B\).

Let us consider, then, the relevance of this distinction. On the one hand, Rowe is certainly right that any criticism that claims that one is not justified in inferring (2) unless one has additional information to the effect that unobserved \(A\)s are not likely to differ from observed \(A\)s with respect to the possession of property \(B\) entails inductive skepticism. But, by contrast, it is not true that this is so if one rejects, instead, the inference to (1). For one might reject the latter inference on the ground that while, given any particular \(A\), it is likely that \(A\) is a \(B\), it is not likely that \(A\)s are \(B\)s. (Compare the situation with a very long conjunction: given any particular conjunct, it may be likely that that conjunct is true, while being very unlikely that every conjunct, and hence the conjunction as a whole, is true.)

This is important, moreover, because it is (1) that Rowe needs, since the conclusion that he is drawing does not concern simply the next morally relevant property that someone might consider: conclusion Q asserts, rather, that all further morally relevant properties will lack property J. Such a conclusion about all further cases is much stronger than a conclusion about the next case, and one might well think that in some circumstances a conclusion of the latter sort is justified, but that a conclusion of the former sort is not.

One way of supporting the latter claim is by introducing the idea of logical probability, where logical probability is a measure of the extent to which one proposition supports another (Carnap, 1962, 19-51, esp. 43-7), and then arguing (Tooley, 1977, 690-3, and 1987, 129-37) that when one is dealing with an accidental generalization, the probability that the regularity in question will obtain gets closer and closer to zero, without limit, as the number of potential instances gets larger and larger, and that this is so regardless of how large one's evidence base is. Is it impossible, then, to justify universal generalizations? The answer is that if laws are more than mere regularities-and, in particular, if they are second-order relations between universals-then the obtaining of a law, and thus of the corresponding regularity, may have a very high probability upon even quite a small body of evidence. So universal generalizations can be justified, if they obtain in virtue of underlying, governing laws of nature.

The question then becomes whether Q expresses a law-or a consequence of a law. If-as seems plausible-it does not, then, although it is true that one in justified in holding, of any given, not yet observed morally relevant property, that it is unlikely to have property J, it may not be the case that it is probable that no goodmaking (or rightmaking) property has property J. It may, on the contrary, be probable that there is some morally relevant property that does have property J.

This objection could be overcome if one could argue that it is unlikely that there are many unknown goodmaking properties. For if the number is small, then the probability of Q may still be high even if Q does not express a law, or a consequence of a law. Moreover, I am inclined to think that it may well be possible to argue that it is unlikely that there are many unknown, morally relevant properties. But I also think that it is very likely that any attempt to establish this conclusion would involve some very controversial metaethical claims. As a consequence, I think that one is justified in concluding that such a line of argument is not especially promising.

In his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, Hume contended that it was not possible to arrive at the conclusion that the world had a perfectly good cause-or a perfectly evil one-starting out simply from a world that consists of a mixture of good and bad states of affairs:

There may four hypotheses be framed concerning the first causes of the universe:that they are endowed with perfect goodness,that they are endowed with perfect malice,that they are opposite and have both goodness and malice,that they have neither goodness nor malice. Mixed phenomena can never prove the two former unmixed principles. And the uniformity and steadiness of general laws seems to oppose the third. The fourth, therefore, seems by far the most probable. (1779, Part XI, 212)

But if this is right, and the hypothesis that the first cause (or causes) of the universe is neither good nor evil is more probable than the hypothesis that the first cause is perfectly good, then the probability of the latter must be less than one half.

Hume advanced, then, an evidential argument from evil that has a distinctly different logical form from that involved in direct inductive arguments, for the idea is to point to some proposition that is logically incompatible with theism, and then to argue that, given facts about undesirable states of affairs to be found in the world, that hypothesis is more probable than theism, and, therefore, that theism is more likely to be false than to be true.:

More than two centuries later, Paul Draper, inspired by Hume, set out and defended this type of indirect inductive argument in a very detailed way. In doing so, Draper focused upon two alternative hypotheses, the first of which he referred to as "the Hypothesis of Indifference," and which was as follows (1989, 13):

(HI) neither the nature nor the condition of sentient beings on earth is the result of benevolent or malevolent actions performed by nonhuman persons.

Draper then focused upon three sets of propositions about occurrences of pleasure and pain, dealing, respectively, with (a) the experience of pleasure and pain, by moral agents, which is known to be biologically useful, (b) the experience of pleasure and pain, by sentient beings that are not moral agents, which is known to be biologically useful, and (c) the experience of pleasure and pain, by sentient beings, which is not known to be biologically useful, and Draper then argued that, where 'O' expresses the conjunction of all those propositions, and 'T' expresses the proposition that God exists, the probability that O is the case given HI is greater than the probability of O given T. It then follows, provided that the initial probability of T is no greater than that of HI, that T is more likely to be false than to be true.

To set out Draper's argument in a little more detail, let us use '\(\Pr(P \mid Q)\) ' to stand for either the logical probability, or, as Draper (1996, 27) himself does, the epistemic probability, that \(P\) is true, given that \(Q\) is true, and then use the following instance of what is known as Bayes' Theorem

\[ \tag{1} \Pr(H \mid E) = \frac{\Pr(H) \Pr(E \mid H)}{\Pr(H)\Pr(E \mid H) + \Pr(J)\Pr(E \mid J)} \]

This instance of Bayes' Theorem deals with the simple case where one has two hypotheses H and J that are mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive, and where one is interested in \(\Pr(H \mid E)\), that is, the probability that H is true given evidence E. What this instance of Bayes' Theorem does is provide one with a way of calculating that probability, provided that one knows, first of all, \(\Pr(H)\) and \(\Pr(J)\)-that is, the a priori logical probabilities of \(H\) and \(J\)-and also, second, \(\Pr(E \mid H)\) and \(\Pr(E \mid J)\)-that is, the logical probability of \(E\) given, respectively, only \(H\) and only \(J\). By substitution in (1), we have:

\[ \tag{2} \Pr(HI \mid O) = \frac{\Pr(HI)\Pr(O \mid HI)}{\Pr(HI)\Pr(O \mid HI) + \Pr(T)\Pr(O \mid T)} \]

Similarly, by interchanging 'HI' and 'T', we also have:

\[ \tag{3} \Pr(T \mid O) = \frac{\Pr(T)\Pr(O \mid T)}{\Pr(T)\Pr(O \mid T) + \Pr(HI)\Pr(O \mid HI)} \]

If we then divide (2) by (3) we arrive at the following very useful equation:

\[ \tag{4} \frac{\Pr(HI \mid O)}{\Pr(T \mid O)} = \frac{\Pr(HI)\Pr(O \mid HI)}{\Pr(T)\Pr(O \mid T)} \]

So far, this is simply a matter of probability theory. But now Draper introduces two substantive claims. The first is that the a priori probability of the hypothesis of indifference is not less than the a priori probability of theism, so that we have

\[ \tag{5} \Pr(HI) \ge \Pr(T) \]

Draper's second substantive claim is that the conjunction of propositions about pleasure and pain to which Draper refers, and which is represented by '\(O\)' is more likely to be true if the hypothesis of indifference is true than if theism is true. So we have

\[ \tag{6} \Pr(O \mid HI) \gt \Pr(O \mid T) \]

But provided that \(\Pr(T)\) and \(\Pr(O \mid T)\) are not equal to zero-which is surely very reasonable-(5) and (6) can be rewritten as

\[ \tag{7} \frac{\Pr(HI)}{\Pr(T)} \ge 1 \]

and

\[ \tag{8} \frac{\Pr(O \mid HI)}{\Pr(O \mid T)} \gt 1 \]

It then follows, by multiplying (7) and (8), that

\[ \tag{9} \frac{\Pr(HI)\Pr(O \mid HI)}{\Pr(T)\Pr(O \mid T)} \gt 1 \]

This, together with (4), then entails:

\[ \tag{10} \frac{\Pr(HI \mid O)}{\Pr(T \mid O)} \gt 1 \]

Finally, Draper assumes (as a substantive premise) that the hypothesis of indifference is logically incompatible with theism:

\[ \tag{11} HI \text{ entails } \negt T \]

It then follows from (10) and (11) that

\[ \tag{12} \Pr(\negt T \mid O) \gt \Pr(T \mid O) \]

So we have the result that, given the facts about pleasure and pain summarized by '\(O\)', theism is more likely to be false than to be true.

There are various points at which one might respond to this argument. First, it might be argued that the assumption that the hypothesis of indifference is logically incompatible with theism is not obviously true. For might it not be logically possible that there was an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect being who created a neutral environment in which evolution could take place in a chancy way, and who afterwards did not intervene in any way? But, if so, then while \(T\) would be true, \(HI\) might also be true-as it would be if there were no other nonhuman persons. So, at the very least, it is not clear that \(HI\) entails \(\negt T\).

Secondly, it might also be argued that the substantive premise introduced at (5)-that is, \(\Pr(HI) \ge \Pr(T)\)- is open to question. Draper supports it by arguing that whereas the hypothesis of theism involves some ontological commitment, the Hypothesis of Indifference does not. But, on the other hand, the latter involves a completely universal generalization about the absence of any action upon the earth by any nonhuman persons, of either a benevolent or malevolent sort, and it is far from clear why the prior probability of this being so should be greater than the prior probability of theism.

Both of these objections can be avoided, however, by simply shifting from \(HI\) to a different alternative hypothesis that Draper also mentions, namely, "The Indifferent Deity Hypothesis":

There exists an omnipotent and omniscient person who created the Universe and who has no intrinsic concern about the pain or pleasure of other beings. (1989, 26)

Thirdly, it can be objected that the argument does not really move far beyond two of its three crucial assumptions-the assumptions set out, namely, at steps (5) and (11), to the effect that \(\Pr(HI) \ge \Pr(T)\), and \(HI\) entails \(\negt T\). For given those assumptions, it follows immediately that \(\Pr(T) \le 0.5\), and so the rest of the argument merely moves from that conclusion to the conclusion that \(\Pr(T) \lt 0.5\).

One response to this objection is that the move from \(\Pr(T) \le 0.5\) to \(\Pr(T) \lt 0.5\) is not insignificant, since it is a move from a situation in which acceptance of theism may not be irrational to one where it is certainly is. Nevertheless, the objection does bring out an important point, namely, that the argument as it stands says nothing at all about how much below 0.5 the probability of theism is.

Fourthly, objections can be directed at the arguments that Draper offers in support of a third substantive premise-namely, that introduced at (6). Some of the objections directed against this premise are less than impressive-and some seem very implausible indeed, as in the case, for example, of Peter van Inwagen, who has to appeal to quite an extraordinary claim about the conditions that one must satisfy in order to claim that a world is logically possible:

One should start by describing in some detail the laws of nature that govern that world. (Physicists' actual formulations of quantum field theories and the general theory of relativity provide the standard of required "detail.") One should then go on to describe the boundary conditions under which those laws operate; the topology of the world's space-time, its relativistic mass, the number of particle families, and so on. Then one should tell in convincing detail the story of cosmic evolution in that world: the story of the development of large objects like galaxies and of stars and of small objects like carbon atoms. Finally, one should tell the story of the evolution of life. (1991, 146)

Such objections tend to suggest that any flaws in Draper's argument in support of the crucial premise are less than obvious. Nevertheless, given that the argument that Draper offers in support of the premise at (6) involves a number of detailed considerations, very careful scrutiny of those arguments would be needed before one could conclude that the premise is justified.

Finally, rather than attacking the argument itself, one might instead argue that, while it is sound, the conclusion is not really a significant one. For what matters is not whether there is some evidence relative to which it is unlikely that theism is true. What matters is whether theism is improbable relative to our total evidence. But, then, suppose that we introduce some different observations-\(O^*\)-such that it seems plausible that \(O^*\) is more likely to be the case if theism is true that if the Hypothesis of Indifference is true. For example, \(O^*\) might be some proposition about the occurrences of experiences that seem to be experiences of a loving deity. The question then is whether the appropriate revision of the first substantive premise is plausible. That is, do we have good reason for thinking that the following statement is true:

\[ \tag{\(6^\&\)} \Pr(O \amp O^* \mid HI) \gt \Pr(O \amp O^* \mid T) \, ? \]

At the very least, it would seem that \((6^{\&})\) is much more problematic than \((6)\). But if that is right, then the above, Draper-style argument, even if all of its premises are true, is not as significant as it may initially appear, since if \((6^{\&})\) is not true, the conclusion that theism is more likely to be false than to be true can be undercut by introducing additional evidence of a pro-theist sort.

A Draper-style argument is one type of indirect inductive argument from evil. It is important to notice, however, that in formulating an indirect inductive argument from evil, one need not proceed along the route that Draper chooses. This is clear if one focuses upon Hume's formulation, and then thinks in terms of the idea of an inference to the best explanation of the "mixed phenomena" that one finds. If one explains the fact that the world contains an impressive mixture of desirable and undesirable states of affairs by the hypothesis that the creator of the world was an omnipotent, omniscient, and indifferent deity, then nothing more needs to be added. By contrast, if one wants to explain the mixed state of the world by the hypothesis that the creator of the world was an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect deity, one needs to postulate the existence of additional, morally significant properties that lie beyond our ken, and ones, moreover, that are so distributed that the mixed appearance does not correspond to what is really the case. A theistic explanation is, accordingly, less simple than an indifferent deity explanation, and therefore, provided that one can argue that the a priori probability of the latter hypothesis is not less than that of the former, one can appeal to the greater simplicity of the latter in order to conclude that it has a higher posterior probability than the theistic hypothesis. It then follows, given that the two hypotheses are logically incompatible, that the probability of the theistic hypothesis must be less than one half.

We have just considered the Bayesian-style argument offered by Paul Draper. Let us now turn to another.

In his 1996 paper, "The Evidential Argument from Evil: A Second Look", Rowe set aside the problem of attempting to find a satisfactory account of the inductive step involved in direct, inductive formulations of the argument from evil in favor of a very different, Bayesian formulation of the argument from evil. The latter argument has been vigorously criticized by Plantinga (1998), but Rowe (1998) has remained confident that the new argument is sound.

3.4.1 A Summary of Rowe's Bayesian Argument

Rowe's new argument can be summarized as follows. First, its formulation involves only three propositions, one of which is proposition \(k\), which expresses, roughly, the totality of our background knowledge, while the other two propositions are as follows:

\((P)\) No good that we know of justifies an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting \(E_1\) and \(E_2\);

\((G)\) There is an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being.

Secondly, the object of the argument as a whole is to start out from some probabilistic assumptions, and then to move deductively, using only axioms of probability theory, to the following two conclusions:

\[\begin{align} \tag{C1} & \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt \Pr(G \mid k) \\ \tag{C2} & \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt 0.5 \,. \end{align}\]

The first conclusion, then, is that the probability that God exists is lower given the combination of \(P\) together with our background knowledge than it is given our background knowledge alone. Thus \(P\) disconfirms \(G\) in the sense of lowering the probability of \(G\). The second conclusion is that \(P\) disconfirms \(G\) in a different sense-namely, it, together with our background knowledge, makes it more likely than not that \(G\) is false.

Thirdly, in order to establish the first conclusion, Rowe needs only the following three assumptions:

\[\begin{align} \tag{1} & \Pr(P \mid \negt G \amp k) = 1 \\ \tag{2} & \Pr(\negt G \mid k) \gt 0 \\ \tag{3} & \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \lt 1 \end{align}\]

Fourthly, all three assumptions, interpreted as Rowe does, are surely eminently reasonable. As regards (1), it follows from the fact that for any two propositions \(q\) and \(r\), if \(q\) entails \(r\) then \(\Pr(r \mid q) = 1\), together with the fact that Rowe interprets \(P\) in such a way that \(\negt G\) entails \(P\), since he interprets \(P\) as saying that it is not the case that there is an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly good being together with some known good that justifies that being in allowing \(E_1\) and \(E_2\).

As regards (2), it certainly seems plausible, assuming that the existence of God is not logically necessary, that there is at least some non-zero probability that God does not exist, given our background knowledge. But one can derive (2), provided that one is willing to accept the (not uncontroversial) principle that only necessarily false propositions have a probability equal to zero. (This principle is very plausible if one accepts the idea of infinitesimals. If one does not, one may hold that some contingent propositions have a probability equal to zero.) Given this assumption, the reasoning is then that \(\Pr(\negt G \mid k)\) can be equal to zero only if the conjunction \(\negt G \amp k\) is necessarily false, which can be case only if either \(G\) is a necessary truth, or else \(k\) entails \(G\), neither of which is the case.

Similarly, (3) also seems plausible, and here too one can derive (3) provided that one is willing to accept the principle that only necessarily false propositions have a probability equal to zero. Here the reasoning will be that \(\Pr (P\mid G \amp k)\) can be equal to one only if the conjunction \(\negt P \amp G \amp k\) is necessarily false, which can be case only if either \(\negt P\) is necessarily false, or the conjunction \(G \amp k\) entails \(P\), neither of which is the case.

Secondly, if the existence of God is neither a logically necessary truth nor entailed by our background knowledge, and if the existence of God together with our background knowledge does not logically entail that no good that we know of justifies an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting \(E_1\) and \(E_2\), then one can support (2) and (3) by appealing to the very plausible principle that the probability of \(r\) given \(q\) is equal to one if and only if \(q\) entails \(r\).

Finally, to establish the second conclusion-that is, that relative to our background knowledge together with proposition \(P\) it is more likely than not that God does not exist-Rowe needs only one additional assumption:

\[ \tag{4} \Pr(G \mid k) \le 0.5 \]

Given assumptions (1), (2), and (3), how does the argument for the first conclusion go? In outline, one first uses (1), (2), and (3) to prove that

\[ \notag \Pr(P \mid k) \gt \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \ \]

It then follows very quickly that

\[ \notag \Pr(G \mid k) \gt \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \ \]

Assumption (4) then allows one to conclude that

\[ \notag \Pr(G \mid P \amp k)\lt 0.5\ \ \]

Here are the details.

The key starting point is with the following theorem of probability theory (Compare Draper, 1996, 268):

\[ \tag{5} \Pr(P \mid k) = [\Pr(\negt G\mid k)\times \Pr(P \mid \negt G \amp k)] + [\Pr(G\mid k)\times \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \]

Substituting into (5) using assumption (1) then gives one:

\[ \tag{6} \Pr(P \mid k) = [\Pr(\negt G\mid k) \times 1] + [\Pr(G\mid k)\times \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \]

Next, it is a truth of probability theory that

\[ \tag{7} \Pr(G \mid k) = [1 - \Pr(\negt G \mid k)] \]

Using (7) to substitute into (6) one has

\[\begin{align} \tag{8} &\Pr(P \mid k) \\ \notag &= \Pr(\negt G\mid k) + [[1 - \Pr(\negt G \mid k)]\times \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \\ \notag &= \Pr(\negt G\mid k) + \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) - [\Pr(\negt G \mid k)\times \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \\ \end{align}\]

Subtracting \(\Pr(P \mid G \amp k)\) from each side of (8) then gives one:

\[\begin{align} \tag{9} &\Pr(P \mid k) - \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \\ \notag &= \Pr(\negt G\mid k) - [\Pr(\negt G \mid k)\times \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \\ \notag &= \Pr(\negt G\mid k)\times [1 - \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \end{align}\]

But then in view of assumption (2) we have that \(\Pr(\negt G \mid k) \gt 0\), while in view of assumption (3) we have that \(\Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \lt 1\), and thus that \([1 - \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \gt 0\), so that it then follows from (9) that

\[ \tag{10} \Pr(P \mid k) -\Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \gt 0. \ \]

So one has

\[ \tag{11} \Pr(P \mid k) \gt \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \ \]

The next stage involve showing that it follows from (11) that

\[ \notag \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt \Pr(G \mid k) \ \]

This is done as follows.

First, it follows from the definition of conditional probability one has

\[ \tag{12} \Pr(P \amp G\amp k) = \Pr(G \mid P \amp k)] \times \Pr(P\mid k) \]

and

\[ \tag{13} \Pr(P \amp G\amp k) = \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \times \Pr(G\mid k) \]

So we have

\[ \tag{14} \Pr(G \mid P \amp k)] \times \Pr(P\mid k) = \Pr(P \mid G \amp k)] \times \Pr(G\mid k) \]

Dividing both sides of (13) by \(\Pr(G \mid k) \times \Pr(P \mid k)\) then gives one:

\[ \tag{15} \frac{\Pr(G \mid P \amp k)}{\Pr(G \mid k)} = \frac{\Pr(P \mid G \amp k)}{\Pr(P \mid k)} \]

It then follows from (15) together with (11) that

\[ \tag{16} \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt \Pr(G \mid k) \]

Finally, it then follows from (16) together with (4) that

\[ \tag{17} \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt 0.5 \]

3.4.2 The Flaw in the Argument

Given the plausibility of assumptions (1), (2), and (3), together with the impeccable logic, the prospects of faulting Rowe's argument for his first conclusion may not seem at all promising. Nor does the situation seem significantly different in the case of Rowe's second conclusion, since assumption (4) also seems very plausible, in view of the fact that the property of being an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly good being belongs to a family of properties, including the property of being an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly evil being, and the property of being an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly morally indifferent being, and, on the face of it, neither of the latter properties seems less likely to be instantiated in the actual world than the property of being an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly good being.

In fact, however, Rowe's argument is unsound. The reason is connected with the point that while inductive arguments can fail, just as deductive arguments can, either because their logic is faulty, or their premises false, inductive arguments can also fail in a way that deductive arguments cannot, in that they may violate a principle-namely, the Total Evidence Requirement-which I shall be setting out below, and Rowe's argument is defective in precisely that way.

A good way of approaching the objection that I have in mind is by considering the following, preliminary objection to Rowe's argument for the conclusion that

\[ \notag \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt 0.5 \, . \]

The objection is based on upon the observation that Rowe's argument involves, as we saw above, only the following four premises:

\[\begin{align} \tag{1} & \Pr(P \mid \negt G \amp k) = 1 \\ \tag{2} & \Pr(\negt G \mid k) \gt 0 \\ \tag{3} & \Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \lt 1 \\ \tag{4} & \Pr(G \mid k) \le 0.5 \end{align}\]

Notice now, first, that the proposition \(P\) enters only into the first and the third of these premises, and secondly, that the truth of both of these premises is easily secured. Thus, for the first premise to be true, all that is needed is that \(\negt G\) entails \(P\), while for the third premise to be true, all that is needed, according to most systems of inductive logic, is that \(P\) is not entailed by \(G \amp k\), since according to most systems of inductive logic, \(\Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \lt 1\) is only false if \(P\) is entailed by \(G \amp k\).

Given assumptions (1), (2), and (3), how does the argument for the first conclusion go? In outline, one first uses (1), (2), and (3) to prove that \(\Pr(P \mid G \amp k) \lt 1\)

Consider, now, what happens if, for example, Rowe's \(P\) is replaced by:

Either God does not exist, or there is a pen in my pocket.

Statements (1) and (3) will both be true given that replacement, while statements (2) and (4) are unaffected, and one will be able to derive the same conclusions as in Rowe's Bayesian argument. But if this is so, then the theist can surely claim, it would seem, that the fact that Rowe's '\(P\)' refers to evil in the world turns out to play no crucial role in Rowe's new argument!

This objection, however, is open to the following reply. The reason that I am justified in believing the proposition that either God does not exist or there is a pen in my pocket is that I am justified in believing that there is a pen in my pocket. The proposition that either God does not exist or there is a pen in my pocket therefore does not represent the total evidence that I have. But the argument in question cannot be set out in terms of the proposition that, we can suppose, does in this case represent one's total evidence-namely, the proposition that there is a pen in my pocket-since that proposition is not entailed by \(\negt G\).

The conclusion, in short, is that the above parody of Rowe's argument doesn't work, since the parody violates the following requirement:

The Total Evidence Requirement:
For any proposition that is not non-inferentially justified, the probability that one should assign to that proposition's being true is the probability that the proposition has relative to one's total evidence.

But this response to the above objection to the argument for the conclusion that

\[ \notag \Pr(G \mid P \amp k) \lt 0.5 \]

now makes it clear that there a decisive objection to the argument as a whole. For notice that if \(P\)-the statement that

No good we know of justifies an omnipotent, omniscient, perfectly good being in permitting \(E_1\) and \(E_2\)

-is interpreted in such a way that \(\negt G\) entails \(P\), it is then logically equivalent to the following disjunctive statement:

\[ \notag \negt G \text{ or } P^* \]

where \(P^*\) is the proposition that Rowe sets out in footnote 8 of his article, namely:

No good we know of would justify God, (if he exists) in permitting \(E_1\) and \(E_2\) (1996, 283)

Once this is noticed, it is clear that Rowe's argument is open to precisely the same response as that used against the objection to the parody argument just considered, since the justification that one can offer for \(\negt G\) or \(P^*\) is in fact just a justification of the second disjunct-that is, \(P^*\). This means that in appealing to \(P\) (i.e., to \((\negt G)\) or \(P^*\)) one is not making use of one's total evidence. So Rowe's argument, if it is to be sound, must instead be formulated in terms of \(P^*\).

But while \(\negt G\) entails \(P\), it does not entail \(P^*\). So the result of replacing ' P' by ' P*' in statement (1)-that is

\[ \tag{\(1^*\)} \Pr(P^* \mid \negt G \amp k) = 1 \]

-will not be true, and so an argument of the form that Rowe offers will not go through. Rowe's Bayesian argument is, therefore, unsound.

In section 3.2.1, a concrete, deontological, and direct inductive formulation of the argument from evil was set out. All of the steps in that argument were deductive, except for the following crucial inference:

There are events in our world - such as an animal's dying an agonizing death in a forest fire, and a child's undergo lingering suffering and eventual death due to cancer - such that the actions of allowing those events, when one could prevent them, both (a) have very serious, known wrongmaking characteristics, and (b) have no rightmaking characteristics of which we are aware that are sufficient to balance out the known wrongmaking properties.

Therefore it is likely that:

For any such action, the totality of the wrongmaking properties, both known and unknown, outweighs the totality of the rightmaking properties, both known and unknown.

The question, accordingly, is whether this inductive step is correct.

Essentially, there are three ways in which one might attempt to defend this inference. One is by treating it as a case of instantial generalization. But as we saw in effect in section 3.2.3, when we considered a formulation of the evidential argument from evil advanced by William Rowe, it appears that the inductive step in the argument from evil cannot be defended by appealing to instantial generalization.

A second approach is to view that inductive step as a matter of inference to the best explanation, and this is a more promising possibility. That approach would lead to an argument of the general form advanced by David Hume and Paul Draper, considered in section.

There is, however, a third possibility, which is the focus of the present section. Underlying this approach are two general ideas: the first is that both induction via instantial generalization and inference to the best explanation (abduction, the method of hypothesis, hypothetico-deductive method) stand in need of justification; the second idea is that at the heart of such a justification will be the defense of an account of logical probability.

The fundamental idea, accordingly, is that the way to determine whether the inductive step that lies at the heart of the evidential argument from evil is sound is by bringing serious inductive logic-understood as a theory of logical probability-to bear upon the question.

What is the appropriate theory of logical probability? Tooley (2008 and 2012) employs a Carnapian theory in which the basic equiprobability assumption is formulated in terms of what are called 'structure descriptions', and the fundamental postulate is that all structure descriptions are equally likely. But if one holds, as Tooley (1977 and 1987) does, that governing laws are logically possible, then it is clear that the fundamental equiprobability assumption needs to be formulated in terms of governing laws of nature. At present, however, no detailed formulation of such an approach to logical probability is available.

3.5.1 An Illustration of the General Underlying Idea

To establish that the inductive step in the version of the evidential argument from evil set out above is sound requires a rather technical argument in inductive logic. But one can gain an intuitive understanding of the underlying idea in the following way. Suppose that there is a rightmaking property of which we have no knowledge. If an action of allowing a child to be brutally killed possessed that property, then it might not be wrong to allow that action, depending upon the weightiness of that unknown rightmaking property. But the existence of unknown rightmaking properties is no more likely, a priori, than of unknown wrongmaking properties. So let us suppose, then, for this illustration, that there are two morally significant properties of which we humans have no knowledge-a rightmaking property \(R\), and a wrongmaking property \(W\). Let us suppose, further, that these two properties are equally weighty, since, a priori, there is no reason for supposing that one is more significant than the other. Finally, let \(A\) be an action of knowingly allowing a child to be brutally killed, and let us suppose that the unknown morally significant rightmaking property \(R\) is weightier than the wrongmaking property of knowingly allowing a child to be brutally killed. One can then see that there are the following four possibilities:

1. Action \(A\) has both unknown properties, \(R\) and \(W\). In this case, those two unknown properties cancel one another out, and action \(A\) will be morally wrong, all things considered.

2. Action \(A\) has the unknown rightmaking property \(R\), but not the unknown wrongmaking property \(W\). In this case, action \(A\) may be morally permissible, all things considered, on the assumption that property \(R\) is sufficiently strong to outweigh the known wrongmaking property of allowing a child to be brutally killed.

3. Action \(A\) has the unknown wrongmaking property \(W\), but not the unknown rightmaking property \(R\). In this case, action \(A\) is even more wrong, all things considered, than it initially appeared to be.

4. Action \(A\) does not have either of the unknown, morally significant properties, \(R\) and \(W\). In this case action \(A\) is morally wrong to precisely the degree that it initially appeared to be.

The upshot is that in this simplified example, at least three of the four possibilities that we have considered are such that action \(A\) turns out to be morally wrong, all things considered.

The intuitive idea, then, is that if one has an action that, given only its known rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, is an action that it would be morally wrong to perform, then it is more likely than not it is also an action that it would be morally wrong to perform, given the totality of its morally significant properties, both known and unknown.

But what underlies this intuitive idea? The answer is a certain very fundamental and very plausible equiprobability principle, to the effect that if one has a family of mutually exclusive properties, and if \(P\) and \(Q\) are any two members of that family, then the a priori probability that something has property \(P\) is equal to the a priori probability that that thing has property \(Q\). For then given that principle, one can consider the family of second order properties that contains the second-order property of being a rightmaking property and the second-order property of being a wrongmaking property, and then the equiprobability principle in question entails that the a priori probability that a given property \(P\) has the second-order property of being a rightmaking property is equal to the a priori probability that property \(P\) has the second-order property of being a wrongmaking property. Similarly, if one considers instead the family of properties that contains, for example, the second-order property of being a rightmaking property of weight \(W\) and the second-order property of being a wrongmaking property of weight \(W\), the a priori probability that a given property \(P\) has the first of those second-order properties is equal to the a priori probability that property \(P\) has the second of those properties.

The upshot is that given an action that would be morally wrong if judged only by its known morally significant properties, every possibility of a combination of unknown rightmaking and wrongmaking properties that would make that action morally right all things considered would be precisely counterbalanced by a combination of unknown rightmaking and wrongmaking properties that would make that action morally even more wrong, all things considered. But, in addition, there can be combinations of unknown rightmaking and wrongmaking properties that would move an action in the direction of being morally right all things considered, but not sufficiently far to make it morally right all things considered. Finally, there is the possibility that the action has no unknown morally significant properties.

Consequently, if an action is one that it would be morally wrong to perform, if judged only by its known morally significant properties, then it is more likely than not that it is one that it is morally wrong to perform given the totality of its morally significant properties, both known and unknown.

Then, the probability that, judged in the light of all rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, known and unknown, it would not be morally wrong to allow the event in question must be less than \(\frac{1}{2}\).

The upshot is that the probabilistic inference that is involved in the move from statement (1) to statement (2) in the argument set out above in section 3.2.1 is inductively sound.

3.5.2 The Formal Result

How is the formal calculation carried out? The answer is somewhat complicated, and there are slightly different ways of doing it, as in (Tooley 2008 and 2012b), with the method used in the latter case being perhaps slightly more perspicuous, but with both methods generating the same result. The key in both cases, moreover, is to make assumptions that increase the probability that an action that is morally wrong as judged only by its known rightmaking and wrongmaking properties is morally right relative to the totality of its morally significant properties, both known and unknown. In the absence of those 'probability-increasing' assumptions, it is not at all clear how the calculation could be carried out.

In the case where one focuses only upon a single action whose known wrongmaking properties outweigh its known rightmaking properties, the result is as one would expect, namely, that the probability that the action in question is not morally wrong relative to the totality of its morally significant properties, both known and unknown, must be less than one half.

But what is the general result? Suppose, for example, that there are \(n\) events, each of which is such that, judged simply by known rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, it would be morally wrong to allow that event. What is the probability that none of those \(n\) events is such that it would be morally wrong to allow that event, judged in the light of all rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, both known and unknown?

The answer is arrived at by proving the following theorem dealing with the case where there are precisely \(k\) unknown morally significant properties:

If there are \(k\) unknown morally significant properties, then given \(n\) events, each of which is such that, judged simply by known rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, it would be morally wrong to allow that event, the probability that none of those events is such that it is morally wrong to allow that event, judged in the light of all rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, known and unknown, must be less than \[ \notag \left( \dfrac{k}{k+1} \right) \left( \dfrac{1}{n+1} \right) \,. \]

As one can see, this upper bound on the probability that it is not morally wrong to allow any of the \(n\) events increases as \(k\), the number of unknown morally significant properties, increases, and as \(k\) increases without limit, it will tend to the limit of \(\frac{1}{n+1}\).

One therefore has the following theorem:

Given \(k\) events, each of which is such that, judged simply by known rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, it would be morally wrong to allow that event, the probability that none of those events is such that it is morally wrong to allow that event, judged in the light of all rightmaking and wrongmaking properties, both known and unknown, must be less than \(\frac{1}{n+1}\).

3.5.3 The Argument from Evil: A Quantitative Result

This approach arguably has two advantages over alternative accounts of the inductive step that lies at the heart of the argument from evil. One is that in bringing in an equiprobability principle, one is approaching the issue at a more fundamental level than any approach that appeals either to instantial generalization or inference to the best explanation. The other is that this approach generates a result that enables one not just to conclude that it is more likely than not that God does not exist, but also to assign an upper bound to the probability that God exists.

The upper bound, moreover, is surely very low indeed, for of the billions of people and sentient non-persons who have existed, the proportion who have had the good fortune never to have suffered in ways such that the known wrongmaking properties of allowing such suffering outweighed the known rightmaking properties must be small. Accordingly, \(n\) must be extremely large, and thus the probability that there is an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person must be very low indeed.

Given an evidential formulation of the evidential argument from evil, what sorts of responses are possible? A natural way of dividing up possible responses is into what may be referred to as total refutations, theodicies, and defenses. So let us begin by considering what is involved in these three different, general types of responses.

This threefold classification can be arrived at by the following line of thought. An advocate of the argument from evil is claiming, in the first place, that there are facts about the evils in the world that make it prima facie unreasonable to believe in the existence of God, and, in the second place, that the situation is not altered when those facts are conjoined with all the other things that one is justified in believing, both inferentially and non-inferentially, so that belief in the existence of God is also unreasonable relative to the total evidence available, together with all relevant basis states. In responding to the argument from evil, then, one might challenge either of these claims. That is to say, one might grant, at least for the sake of argument, that there are facts about evil that, other things being equal, render belief in God unreasonable, but then argue that when those considerations are embedded within one's total epistemic situation, belief in the existence of God can be seen to be reasonable, all things considered. Alternatively, one might defend the more radical thesis that there are no facts about evil in the world that make it even prima facie unreasonable to believe in the existence of God.

If the latter thesis is correct, the argument from evil does not even get started. Such responses to the argument from evil are naturally classified, therefore, as attempted, total refutations of the argument.

The proposition that relevant facts about evil do not make it even prima facie unreasonable to believe in the existence of God probably strikes most philosophers, of course, as rather implausible. We shall see, however, that a number of philosophical theists have attempted to defend this type of response to the argument from evil.

The alternative course is to grant that there are facts about intrinsically undesirable states of the world that make it prima facie unreasonable to believe that God exists, but then to argue that belief in the existence of God is not unreasonable, all things considered. This response may take, however, two slightly different forms. One possibility is the offering of a complete theodicy. As I shall use that term, this involves the thesis that, for every actual evil found in the world, one can describe some state of affairs that it is reasonable to believe exists, and which is such that, if it exists, will provide an omnipotent and omniscient being with a morally sufficient reason for allowing the evil in question.

It should be noted here that the term "theodicy" is sometimes used in a stronger sense, according to which a person who offers a theodicy is attempting to show not only that such morally sufficient reasons exist, but that the reasons cited are in fact God's reasons. Alvin Plantinga (1974a, 10; 1985a, 35) and Robert Adams (1985, 242) use the term in that way, but, as has been pointed out by a number of writers, including Richard Swinburne (1988, 298), and William Hasker (1988, 5), that is to saddle the theodicist with an unnecessarily ambitious program.

The other possibility is that of offering a defense. But what is a defense? In the context of abstract, incompatibility versions of the argument from evil, this term is generally used to refer to attempts to show that there is no logical incompatibility between the existence of evil and the existence of God. Such attempts involve setting out a story that entails the existence of both God and evil, and that is logically consistent. But as soon as one focuses upon evidential formulations of the argument from evil, a different interpretation is needed if the term is to remain a useful one, since the production of a logically consistent story that involves the existence of both God and evil will do nothing to show that evil does not render the existence of God unlikely, or even very unlikely.

So what more is required beyond a logically consistent story of a certain sort? One answer that is suggested by some discussions is that the story needs to be one that is true for all we know. Thus Peter van Inwagen, throughout his book The Problem of Evil, frequently claims that various propositions are "true for all we know," and in the "Detailed Contents" section at the beginning of his book, he offers the following characterization of the idea of a defense:

The idea of a "defense" is introduced: that is, the idea of a story that contains both God and all the evils that actually exist, a story that is put forward not as true but as "true for all anyone knows". (2006, xii)

It seems very unlikely, however, that its merely being the case that one does not know that the story is false can suffice, since it may very well be the case that, though one does not know that p is false, one does have very strong evidence that it is. But if one has strong evidence that a story is false, it is hard to see how the story on its own could possibly counter an evidential argument from evil.

It seems, accordingly, that some claim about the probability of the story's being true is needed. One possibility, suggested by some discussions, is that one might claim that rather than the story's being a remote possibility that has only a minuscule chance of being true, the story represents "a real possibility", and so has a substantial chance of being true. Thus, while Peter van Inwagen usually talks about his stories' being true for all anyone knows, he also introduces the distinction between remote possibilities, and real possibilities (2006, Lecture 4, esp. pp. 66-71).

It is also hard to see, however, how this can be sufficient either. Suppose, for example, that one tells a story about God and the Holocaust, which is such that if it were true, an omnipotent being would have been morally justified in not preventing the Holocaust. Suppose, further, that one claims that there is a twenty percent chance that the story is true. A twenty percent chance is certainly a real possibility, but how would that twenty percent chance undermine a version of the argument from evil whose conclusion was that the probability that an omnipotent being would be justified in allowing the Holocaust was very low?

Given the apparent failure of the previous two suggestions, a natural conclusion is that the story that is involved in a defense must be one that is likely to be true. But if this is right, how does a defense differ from a theodicy? The answer is that while a theodicy must specify reasons that would suffice to justify an omnipotent and omniscient being in allowing all of the evils found in the world, a defense need merely show that it is likely that there are reasons which would justify an omnipotent and omniscient being in not preventing the evils that one finds in the world, even if one does not know what those reasons are. A defense differs from a theodicy, then, in that a defense attempts to show only that some God-justifying reasons probably exist; it does not attempt to specify what they are.

There is, however, one final possibility that needs to be considered. This is the idea that what is needed in a defense is not a story that can be shown to be likely to be true, but, rather, a story that, for all we know, is not unlikely. The thought here is that, even if there is some probability that the story has relative to our evidential base, we may not be able to determine what that probability is, or even any reasonably delimited range in which that probability falls. If so, it cannot be shown that the story is likely to be true, but neither can it be shown that the story is unlikely to be true.

The question that immediately arises is whether a proposition that would undercut an inductive argument from evil if one knew it were true can undercut the argument if one is unable to assign any probability to the proposition's being true, and if so, how. One thought might be that if one can assign no probability to a proposition, one should treat it as equally likely to be true as to be false. But propositions vary dramatically in logical form: some are such as might naturally be viewed as atomic, others are sweeping generalizations, others are complex conjunctions, and so on. If one treated any proposition to which one could not assign a probability as equally likely to be true as to be false, the result would be an incoherent assignment of probabilities. On the other hand, if one adopts this idea only in the case of atomic propositions, then given that stories that are advanced in defenses and theodicies are typically quite complex, those stories will wind up getting assigned low probabilities, and it is then unclear how they could undercut an inductive argument from evil.

There are at least three main ways in which one might attempt to show that the argument from evil does not succeed in establishing that evil is even prima facie evidence against the existence of God, let alone that the existence of God is improbable relative to our total evidence. The first appeals to human epistemological limitations; the second, to the claim that there is no best of all possible worlds; and the third, to the ontological argument.

The most popular attempt at a total refutation of the argument from evil claims that, because of human cognitive limitations, there is no sound inductive argument that can enable one to move from the premise that there are states of affairs that, taking into account only what we know, it would be morally very wrong for an omnipotent and omniscient person to allow to exist, to the conclusion that there are states of affairs such that it is likely that, all things considered, it would be morally very wrong for an omnipotent and omniscient person to allow those states of affairs to exist.

The appeal to human cognitive limitations does raise a very important issue, and we have seen that one very natural account of the logical form of the inductive step in the case of a direct inductive argument is not satisfactory. But, as we have seen in sections 3.3 and 3.4, there are other accounts of the type of reasoning involved in the crucial inductive step in evidential forms of the argument from evil. First of all, the appeal to human cognitive limitations does not itself show that there is anything wrong either with the reasoning that Draper offers in support of the crucial premise in his indirect inductive version of the argument from evil, or with the inference to the best explanation type of reasoning employed in the updated version of Hume's indirect inductive formulation of the argument from evil. Secondly, the appeal to human cognitive limitations provides no reason at all for rejecting the version of the argument from evil that appeals to fundamental equiprobability principles of inductive logic, principles that arguably must obtain if any sort of induction is ever justified.

Short of embracing compete inductive skepticism, then, it would seem that an appeal to human cognitive limitations cannot provide an answer to evidential versions of the argument from evil.

A second way of attempting to show that the argument from evil does not even get started is by appealing to the proposition that there is no best of all possible worlds. Here the basic idea is that if for every possible world, however good, there is a better one, then the fact that this world could be improved upon does not give one any reason for concluding that, if there is an omnipotent and omniscient being, that being cannot be morally perfect.

This response to the argument from evil has been around for quite a while. In recent years, however, it has been strongly advocated by George Schlesinger (1964, 1977), and, more recently, by Peter Forrest (1981)-though Forrest, curiously, describes the defense as one that has been "neglected", and refers neither to Schlesinger's well-known discussions, nor to the very strong objections that have been directed against this response to the argument from evil.

The natural response to this attempt to refute the argument from evil was set out very clearly some years ago by Nicholas La Para (1965) and Haig Khatchadourian (1966) among others, and it has been developed in an especially forceful and detailed way in an article by Keith Chrzan (1987). The basic thrust of this response is that the argument from evil, when properly formulated in a deontological fashion, does not turn upon the claim that this world could be improved upon, or upon the claim that it is not the best of all possible worlds: it turns instead upon the claim that there are good reasons for holding that the world contains evils, including instances of suffering, that it would be morally wrong, all things considered, for an omnipotent and omniscient being to allow. As a consequence, the proposition that there might be better and better worlds without limit is simply irrelevant to the argument from evil, properly formulated.

If one accepts a deontological approach to ethics, this response seems decisive. Many contemporary philosophers, however, are consequentialists, and so one needs to consider how the 'no best of all possible worlds' response looks if one adopts a consequentialist approach.

Initially, it might seem that by combining the 'no best of all possible worlds' response with consequentialism, one can construct a successful, total refutation. For assume that the following things are true:

1. An action is, by definition, objectively morally right if and only if it is, among the actions that one could have performed, at least one of the actions that produces at least as much value as every alternative action;

2. An action is objectively morally wrong if and only if it is not objectively morally right;

3. One is morally blameworthy only if one performs some objectively wrong action when one could instead have performed an objectively right action;

4. If one is an omnipotent and omniscient being, then for any action whatever, there is always some other action that produces greater value.

Then it follows that it is impossible for an omnipotent and omniscient being to perform a morally wrong action, and therefore that the failure of such a being to prevent various evils in this world cannot be morally wrong.

Consider an omnipotent and omniscient being that creates a world with zillions of innocent persons, all of whom endure extraordinarily intense suffering forever. If (1), (2), and (3) are right, then such a being does not do anything morally wrong. But this conclusion, surely, is unacceptable, and so if a given version of consequentialism entails this conclusion, then that form of consequentialism must be rejected.

Can consequentialism avoid this conclusion? Can it be formulated in such a way that it entails the conclusion that allowing very great, undeserved suffering is morally very different, and much more serious, than merely refraining from creating as many happy individuals as possible, or merely refraining from creating individuals who are not as ecstatically happy as they might be? If it cannot, then it would seem that the correct conclusion to draw is that consequentialism is unsound. On the other hand, if consequentialism can be so formulated that this distinction is captured, then an appeal to consequentialism, thus formulated in a sound way, will not enable one to avoid the crucial objection to the 'no best of all possible worlds' response to the argument from evil.

A final way in which one could attempt to show that facts about evil cannot constitute even prima facie evidence against the existence of God is by appealing to the ontological argument. Relatively few philosophers have held, of course, that the ontological argument is sound. But there have certainly been notable exceptions-such as Anselm and Descartes, and, in the last century, Charles Hartshorne (1962), Norman Malcolm (1960), and Alvin Plantinga (1974a, 1974b)

If the ontological argument were sound, it would provide a rather decisive refutation of the argument from evil. For in showing not merely that there is an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect being, but also that it is necessary that such a being exists, it would entail that the proposition that God does not exist must have probability zero on any body of evidence whatever.

The only question, accordingly, is whether the ontological argument is sound. The vast majority of present-day philosophers believe that it is not, and one way of arguing for that view is by appealing to strengthened Gaunilo-type objections-where the idea behind a strengthened Gaunilo-type objection is that, rather than merely paralleling the ontological argument, as Gaunilo did in responding to Anselm, in order to show that there is an overpopulation problem for reality in the form of perfect islands, perfect unicorns, and so on, one can instead construct versions that lead to mutually incompatible conclusions, such as the conclusion that there is a perfect solvent, together with the conclusion that there is a perfectly insoluble substance (Tooley, 1981). But if the logical form of the ontological argument is such that arguments of precisely the same form generate contradictions, then the ontological argument must be unsound.

A more satisfying response to the ontological argument would, of course, show not merely that the ontological argument is unsound, but also precisely why it is unsound. Such a response, however, requires a satisfactory account of the truth conditions of modal statements-something that lies outside the scope of this article

In this section, we shall consider three attempts to show that it is reasonable to believe that every evil is such that an omnipotent and omniscient person would have a morally sufficient reason for not preventing its existence, even if one is not able to say, in every case, what that morally sufficient reason might be.

If a given, concrete formulation of the argument from evil appeals to cases of intrinsically undesirable states of affairs that give rise only to evidential considerations, rather than to an incompatibility conclusion, then, although the existence of God may be improbable relative to that evidence, it may not be improbable relative to one's total evidence. Theists, however, have often contended that there are a variety of arguments that, even if they do not prove that God exists, provide positive evidence. May not this positive evidence outweigh, then, the negative evidence of apparently unjustified evils?

Starting out from this line of thought, a number of philosophers have gone on to claim that in order to be justified in asserting that there are evils in the world that establish that it is unlikely that God exists, one would first have to examine all of the traditional arguments for the existence of God, and show that none of them is sound. Alvin Plantinga, for example, says that in order for the atheologian to show that the existence of God is improbable relative to one's total evidence, "he would be obliged to consider all the sorts of reasons natural theologians have invoked in favor of theistic belief-the traditional cosmological, teleological and ontological arguments, for example." (1979, 3) And in a similar vein, Bruce Reichenbach remarks:

With respect to the atheologian's inductive argument from evil, the theist might reasonably contend that the atheologian's exclusion of the theistic arguments or proofs for God's existence advanced by the natural theologian has skewed the results. (1980, 224)

Now it is certainly true that if one is defending a version of the argument from evil that supports only a probabilistic conclusion, one needs to consider what sorts of positive reasons might be offered in support of the existence of God. But Plantinga and Reichenbach are advancing a rather stronger claim here, for they are saying that one needs to look at all of the traditional theistic arguments, such as the cosmological and the teleological. They are claiming, in short, that if one of those arguments turned out to be defensible, then it might well serve to undercut the argument from evil.

But this view seems mistaken. Consider the cosmological argument. In some versions, the conclusion is that there is an unmoved mover. In others, that there is a first cause. In others, that there is a necessary being, having its necessity of itself. None of these conclusions involves any claims about the moral character of the entity in question, let alone the claim that it is a morally perfect person. But in the absence of such a claim, how could such arguments, even if they turned out to be sound, serve to undercut the argument from evil?

The situation is not essentially different in the case of the argument from order, or in the case of the fine-tuning argument. For while those arguments, if they were sound, would provide grounds for drawing some tentative conclusion concerning the moral character of the designer or creator of the universe, the conclusion in question would not be one that could be used to overthrow the argument from evil. For given the mixture of good and evil that one finds in the world, the argument from order can hardly provide support even for the existence of a designer or creator who is very good, let alone one who is morally perfect. So it is very hard to see how any teleological argument, any more than any cosmological, could overturn the argument from evil.

A similar conclusion can be defended with respect to other arguments, such as those that appeal to purported miracles, or religious experiences. For while in the case of religious experiences it might be argued that personal contact with a being may provide additional evidence concerning the person's character, it is clear that the primary evidence concerning a person's character must consist of information concerning what the person does and does not do. So, contrary to the claim advanced by Robert Adams (1985, 245), even if there were veridical religious experiences, they would not provide one with a satisfactory defense against the argument from evil.

A good way of underlining the basic point here is by setting out an alternative formulation of the argument from evil in which it is granted, for the sake of argument, that there is an omnipotent and omniscient person. The result of doing this is that the conclusion at which one initially arrives is not that there is no omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person, but rather that, although there is an omnipotent and omniscient person, that person is not morally perfect, from which it then follows that that there is no omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person.

When the argument from evil is reformulated in that way, it becomes clear that the vast majority of considerations that have been offered as reasons for believing in God can be of little assistance to the person who is trying to resist the argument from evil. For most of them provide, at best, very tenuous grounds for any conclusion concerning the moral character of any omnipotent and omniscient being who may happen to exist, and almost none of them provides any support for the hypothesis that there is an omnipotent and omniscient being who is also morally perfect.

The ontological argument is, of course, a notable exception, and, consequently, the advocate of the argument from evil certainly needs to be able to show that it is unsound. But almost all of the other standard arguments are simply not to the point.

What if, rather than holding that there is positive evidence that lends support to the existence of God, one holds instead that the belief that God exists is non-inferentially justified? The claim in question is an interesting one, and a thorough evaluation of it would involve consideration of some deep issues in epistemology. Fortunately, it does not seem to make any real difference in the present context whether or not the claim is true.

The reason emerges if one considers the epistemology of perception. Some philosophers hold that some beliefs about physical objects are non-inferentially justified, while others hold that this is never so, and that justified beliefs about physical states of affairs are always justified via an inference to the best explanation that starts out from beliefs about one's experiences. But direct realists as much as indirect realists admit that there can be cases where a person would be justified in believing that a certain physical state of affairs obtained were it not for the fact that he has good evidence that he is hallucinating, or else subject to perceptual illusion. Moreover, given evidence of the relevant sort, it makes no difference whether direct realism is true, or indirect realism: the belief in question is undermined to precisely the same extent in either case.

The situation is the same in the case of religious experience. If, as was argued in the previous section, the primary evidence concerning a person's character consists of what the person does or fails to do in various circumstances, and if, as a consequence, conclusions concerning the character of a deity based upon religious experience can be undercut by the argument from evil, then nothing is changed if one holds that the having of religious experiences, rather than providing one with evidence for the existence of God, makes it the case that one is non-inferentially justified in believing in the existence of God. The non-inferential justification is merely a prima facie justification, and one that is undercut by evidence bearing upon a person's character that deals with what the person does and does not do.

Swinburne (1988, 297-8) argued in support of the conclusion that theism does need a theodicy. In doing so, however, he noted one minor qualification-namely, that if one could show, for a sufficiently impressive range of evils that initially seemed problematic, that it was likely that an omnipotent and omniscient person would be morally justified in not having prevented them, then one might very well be justified in believing that the same would be true of other evils, even if one could not specify, in those other cases, what the morally sufficient reason for allowing them might be.

What Swinburne says here is surely very reasonable, and I can see no objection in principle to a defense of this sort. The problem with it is that no theodicy that has ever been proposed has been successful in the relevant way-that is, there is no impressive range of undesirable states of affairs where people initially think that the wrongmaking properties of allowing such states of affairs to exist greatly outweigh any rightmaking properties associated with doing so, but where, confronted with some proposed theodicy, people come to believe that it would be morally permissible to allow such states of affairs to exist. Indeed, it is hard to find any such cases, let alone an impressive range.

What are the prospects for a complete, or nearly complete theodicy? Some philosophers, such as Swinburne, are optimistic, and believe that "the required theodicy can be provided" (1988, 311). Others, including many theists, are much less hopeful. Plantinga, for example remarks:

... we cannot see why our world, with all its ills, would be better than others we think we can imagine, orwhat, in any detail, is God's reason for permitting a given specific and appalling evil. Not only can we not see this, we can't think of any very good possibilities. And here I must say that most attempts to explainwhy God permits evil-theodicies, as we may call them-strike me as tepid, shallow and ultimately frivolous. (1985a, 35)

What types of theodicies that have been proposed? An exhaustive survey is not possible here, but among the most important are theodicies that appeal, first, to the value of acquiring desirable traits of character in the face of suffering; secondly, to the value of libertarian free will; thirdly, to the value of the freedom to inflict horrendous evils upon others; and fourthly, to the value of a world that is governed by natural laws.

One very important type of theodicy, championed especially by John Hick, involves the idea that the evils that the world contains can be seen to be justified if one views the world as designed by God to be an environment in which people, through their free choices, can undergo spiritual growth that will ultimately fit them for communion with God:

The value-judgement that is implicitly being invoked here is that one who has attained to goodness by meeting and eventually mastering temptation, and thus by rightly making responsibly choices in concrete situations, is good in a richer and more valuable sense than would be one created ab initio in a state either of innocence or of virtue. In the former case, which is that of the actual moral achievements of mankind, the individual's goodness has within it the strength of temptations overcome, a stability based upon an accumulation of right choices, and a positive and responsible character that comes from the investment of costly personal effort. (1977, 255-6)

Hick's basic suggestion, then, is that soul-making is a great good, that God would therefore be justified in designing a world with that purpose in mind, that our world is very well designed in that regard, and thus that, if one views evil as a problem, it is because one mistakenly thinks that the world ought, instead, to be a hedonistic paradise.

Is this theodicy satisfactory? There are a number of reasons for holding that it is not. First, what about the horrendous suffering that people undergo, either at the hands of others-as in the Holocaust-or because of terminal illnesses such as cancer? One writer-Eleonore Stump-has suggested that the terrible suffering that many people undergo at the ends of their lives, in cases where it cannot be alleviated, is to be viewed as suffering that has been ordained by God for the spiritual health of the individual in question (1993b, 349). But given that it does not seem to be true that terrible terminal illnesses more commonly fall upon those in bad spiritual health than upon those of good character, let alone that they fall only upon the former, this 'spiritual chemotherapy' view seems quite hopeless. More generally, there seems to be no reason at all why a world must contain horrendous suffering if it is to provide a good environment for the development of character in response to challenges and temptations.

Secondly, and is illustrated by the weakness of Hick's own discussion (1977, 309-17), a soul-making theodicy provides no justification for the existence of any animal pain, let alone for a world where predation is not only present but a major feature of non-human animal life, and has been so for millions of years. The world could perfectly well have contained only human persons, or only human persons plus herbivores.

Thirdly, the soul-making theodicy also provides no account of the suffering that young, innocent children endure, either because of terrible diseases, or at the hands of adults. For here, as in the case of animals, there is no soul-making purpose that is served.

Finally, if one's purpose were to create a world that would be a good place for soul-making, would our earth count as a job well done? It is very hard to see that it would. Some people die young, before they have had any chance at all to master temptations, to respond to challenges, and to develop morally. Others endure suffering so great that it is virtually impossible for them to develop those moral traits that involve relationships with others. Still others enjoy lives of ease and luxury where there is virtually nothing that challenges them to undergo moral growth.

A second important approach to theodicy involves the following ideas: first, that libertarian free will is of great value; secondly, that because it is part of the definition of libertarian free will that an action that is free in that sense cannot be caused by anything outside of the agent, not even God can cause a person to freely do what is right; and thirdly, that because of the great value of libertarian free will, it is better that God create a world in which agents possess libertarian free will, even though they may misuse it, and do what is wrong, than that God create a world where agents lack libertarian free will.

One problem with an appeal to libertarian free will is that no satisfactory account of the concept of libertarian free will is yet available. Thus, while the requirement that, in order to be free in the libertarian sense, an action not have any cause that lies outside the agent is unproblematic, this is obviously not a sufficient condition, since this condition would be satisfied if the behavior in question were caused by random events within the agent. So one needs to add that the agent is, in some sense, the cause of the action. But how is the causation in question to be understood? Present accounts of the metaphysics of causation typically treat causes as states of affairs. If, however, one adopts such an approach, then it seems that all that one has when an action is freely done, in the libertarian sense, is that there is some uncaused mental state of the agent that causally gives rise to the relevant behavior, and why freedom, thus understood, should be thought valuable, is far from clear.

The alternative is to shift from event-causation to what is referred to as 'agent-causation'. But then the question is whether there is any satisfactory account of causation where causation is not a relation between states of affairs. Some philosophers, such as Timothy O'Connor (1995, 1996, 2000a, 2000b, and 2002) and Randolph Clarke (1993, 1996, and 2003) have claimed that such an account can be given, but their suggestions have not been widely accepted.

But even if the difficulty concerning the nature of libertarian free will is set aside, there are still very strong objections to the free-will approach. First, and most important, the fact that libertarian free will is valuable does not entail that one should never intervene in the exercise of libertarian free will. Indeed, very few people think that one should not intervene to prevent someone from committing rape or murder. On the contrary, almost everyone would hold that a failure to prevent heinously evil actions when one can do so would be seriously wrong.

Secondly, the proposition that libertarian free will is valuable does not entail that it is a good thing for people to have the power to inflict great harm upon others. So individuals could, for example, have libertarian free will, but not have the power to torture and murder others.

Thirdly, many evils are caused by natural processes, such as earthquakes, hurricanes, and other weather conditions, and by a wide variety of diseases. Such evils certainly do not appear to result from morally wrong actions. If that is right, then an appeal to free will provides no answer to an argument from evil that focuses upon such evils.

Some writers, such as C. S. Lewis and Alvin Plantinga, have suggested that such evils may ultimately be due to the immoral actions of supernatural beings (Lewis, 1957, 122-3; Plantinga, 1974a, 58). If that were so, then the first two objections mentioned above would apply: one would have many more cases where individuals were being given the power-much greater than the power that any human has-to inflict great harm on others, and then were being allowed by God to use that power to perform horrendously evil actions leading to enormous suffering and many deaths. In addition, however, it can plausibly be argued that, though it is possible that earthquakes, hurricanes, cancer, and the predation of animals are all caused by malevolent supernatural beings, the probability that this is so is extremely low.

The fact that agents could be free in a libertarian sense even if they did not have the power to inflict great harm upon others has led at least one philosopher-namely, Richard Swinburne-to argue that, while free will is valuable, precisely how valuable it is depends upon the range of actions open to one. Swinburne's idea is that if the possible actions that are open to one vary enormously in moral worth, then libertarian free will is very valuable indeed, whereas if the variation in the moral status of what one can do is very limited, then libertarian free will adds much less to the world: one has what has been characterized as a 'toy world', where one has very little responsibility for the well-being of others.

This variant on the appeal to libertarian free will is also open to a number of objections. First, as with free will theodicies in general, this line of thought provides no justification for the existence of occurrences that not only appear, upon cursory inspection, to be natural evils, uncaused by any agents, but where, in addition, the very closest scientific examination supports the conclusion that there are no grounds for postulating anything beyond purely physical events as the causes of the occurrences in question.

Secondly, if what matters is simply the existence of alternative actions that differ greatly in moral value, this can be the case even in a world where one lacks the power to inflict great harm on others, since there can be actions that, rather than inflicting great suffering on others, would instead benefit others enormously, and which one could either perform or intentionally refrain from performing.

Thirdly, what exactly is the underlying line of thought here? In the case of human actions, Swinburne surely holds that one should prevent someone from doing something that would be morally horrendous, if one can do so. Is the idea, then, that while occasional prevention of such evils does not significantly reduce the extent of the moral responsibility of others, if one's power were to increase, a point would be reached where one should sometimes refrain from preventing people from performing morally horrendous actions? But why should this be so? One answer might be that if one intervened too frequently, people would come to believe that they did not have the ability to perform such actions. But, in the first place, it is not clear why that would be undesirable. People could still, for example, be thoroughly evil, for they could still very much wish that they had the power to perform such terrible actions, and be disposed to perform such actions if they ever came to have the power. In the second place, prevention of deeply evil actions could take quite different forms. People could, for example, be given a conscience that led them, when they had decided to cause great injury to others, and were about to do so, to feel that what they were about to do was too terrible a thing, so that they would not carry through on the action. In such a world, people could surely still feel that they themselves were capable of performing heinously evil actions, and they would contemplate performing such actions, but in the end their sense of the great wrongness of the actions would triumph over their selfish reasons for wanting to perform the actions in question.

A final important theodicy involves the following ideas: first, it is important that events in the world take place in a regular way, since otherwise effective action would be impossible; secondly, events will exhibit regular patterns only if they are governed by natural laws; thirdly, if events are governed by natural laws, the operation of those laws will give rise to events that harm individuals; so, fourthly, God's allowing natural evils is justified because the existence of natural evils is entailed by natural laws, and a world without natural laws would be a much worse world.

This type of theodicy is also exposed to serious objections. First of all, the occasional occurrence of miraculous intervention, including events that clearly appeared contrary to natural laws, would not render effective human action impossible, since humans would see that such miraculous occurrences were extremely rare.

Secondly, and relatedly, consider a world where the laws of physics, rather than being laws that admit of no exceptions, are instead probabilistic laws. Effective human action would still be possible in such a world, provided that the relevant probabilities were sufficiently high. But if so, then effective human action would be no less possible in a world with non-statistical laws where there were occasional miraculous interventions.

Thirdly, many of the greatest evils could have been prevented by miraculous interventions that would not have been detected. Consider, for example, interventions to prevent natural disasters such as volcanic eruptions, or earthquakes, including the earthquake in China in 1556 that killed around 800,000 people, or tsunamis, such as the one in 2004 that hit 12 Asian countries, and killed over 200,000 people. Or consider the interventions that would be needed to prevent pandemics, such as the Black Death in the Middle Ages, which is estimated to have killed between 75 million and 200 million people, or the 1918 flu pandemic, which killed between 50 million and 100 million people. Similarly, consider great moral evils, such as the Holocaust. A small intervention by an omnipotent, omniscient, and perfectly good being could have allowed one of the many failed attempts to assassinate Hitler to succeed, or a small mental nudge could have resulted in Hitler's realizing the error in his virulent anti-Semitism.

Fourthly, what natural evils a world contains depends not just on the laws, but also on the initial, or boundary conditions. Thus, for example, an omnipotent being could create ex nihilo a world which had the same laws of nature as our world, and which contained human beings, but which was devoid of non-human carnivores. Or the world could be such that there was unlimited room for populations to expand, and ample natural resources to support such populations.

Fifthly, many evils depend upon precisely what laws the world contains. An omnipotent being could, for example, easily create a world with the same laws of physics as our world, but with slightly different laws linking neurophysiological states with qualities of experiences, so that extremely intense pains either did not arise, or could be turned off by the sufferer when they served no purpose. Or additional physical laws of a rather specialized sort could be introduced that would either cause very harmful viruses to self-destruct, or prevent a virus such as the avian flu virus from evolving into an air-born form that has the capacity to kill hundreds of million people.

Finally, this theodicy provides no account of moral evil. If other theodicies could provide a justification for God's allowing moral evil, then, of course, moral evil would not be a problem. But, as we have seen, no satisfactory justification appears to be available.

The four types of theodicies considered so far all appeal to beliefs and evaluative claims that the theodicist thinks should be acceptable, upon careful reflection, to anyone, including those who are not religious. But if one thinks that one's religious beliefs are ones that it is reasonable to accept, what is wrong with a theodicy that appeals to some of one's religious beliefs? Of course, if the religious beliefs to which one appeals, taken together, entail the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and morally perfect person, such a theodicy would be question-begging. But one can choose a subset that, even if it entails the existence of a very powerful and knowledgeable creator-or even an omnipotent and omniscient one-does not entail the existence of God.

There are many religions, and even within a given religion, very significant differences in the religious beliefs of people, and very different beliefs to which one might appeal, so there are many different religious theodicies that can be constructed. Here I shall focus only on one general type. I think, however, that it will illustrate the kinds of objections that arise.

The religious theodicy in question is as follows. First, human beings, rather than having arisen through a process of natural evolution, were brought into existence by the creator of the universe. He placed the first two human beings in a perfect world, free of suffering and death. Those human beings, however, freely chose to disobey a command of the creator, and the result was the Fall of mankind, which meant not only that the first two humans became subject to suffering and death, but that all of their descendants did so as well. The creator, however, lovingly engaged, several generations later, in a rescue operation, in which he, in the person of his son, became incarnated as a human being, and by undergoing a sacrificial death, made it possible for the creator to forgive every human who accepted this sacrifice, and who would then enjoy eternal beatitude living in the presence of the creator.

This type of religious theodicy has been advanced by a number of Christians, with a variant of it being found, for example, in Peter van Inwagen's book, The Problem of Evil (2006, 85ff.). It is not, of course, a full theodicy, since it does not account for the suffering of non-human animals, at least before the Fall. So let us focus on it simply as offering an account of God's justification for allowing human suffering. Thus viewed, how successful is it?

To be successful, a theodicy must appeal only to beliefs that it is reasonable to accept. Do the beliefs involved in the above story qualify? It would seem not. First of all, among the crucial beliefs is the belief that human beings, rather than coming into being via a natural process of evolution, were specially created. In setting out the story, I have not specified how that was done. Traditionally Christians believed, either that Adam and Eve were created ex nihilo, as the story of creation in Genesis 1 seems to say, or else, as the creation story in Genesis 2 says, that Adam was created out of the dust of the earth, and then Eve was formed, sometime later, out of one of Adam's ribs.

There are very good reasons for rejecting both of these accounts, since the evidence that humans are descended from earlier primates is extremely strong indeed. Especially impressive is the evidence provided by DNA studies, described by Daniel J. Fairbanks his book Relics of Eden, and which includes such as things as the evidence that human chromosome number two resulted by fusion from two primate chromosomes, together with facts about (1) transposable elements, including retroelements, (2) pseudogenes, and (3) mitochondrial DNA.

In the light of such evidence, it is not surprising that many Christian philosophers have accepted the hypothesis of common descent, and have adopted some form of theistic evolution, in which the creator intervened at some point to transform some earlier primates into members of a new species, Homo sapiens. But while this version of special creation is an improvement, given the very close relations between human and chimpanzee DNA, and the fact that known mechanisms of chromosome rearrangement render the transition from some non-human species to Homo sapiens not at all improbable, the postulation of divine intervention at that particular point does not seem plausible.

It would be a different matter, of course, if humans had immaterial minds, but there is very strong empirical evidence against that view, including such things as the effects of a blow to the head and brain damage of different sorts, the effects of diseases such as Alzheimer's, the decline of mental capacities with aging, the relations between the mental development of children and the growth of neural circuitry, the inheritance of personality traits, the different correlations in the case of identical twins versus fraternal twins with regard to such traits as intelligence, the effects of psychotropic drugs, such as Prozac, and so on (Tooley, 2012, 42-4).

Secondly, the story postulates not just a special creation, but also a special creation in which humans, initially, were not subject to suffering or death. Given, among other things, that that period was a very short one, one cannot offer positive historical evidence again the existence of such a short period that involved only two humans. But the belief is surely a remarkable one that can be viewed as likely only if it is supported by evidence. The evidence that can be offered, however, consists entirely of the creation story in Genesis, so that question is, how reliable is such evidence? To answer that question, one can see what other stories one finds in Genesis. One striking story is that of Noah-who apparently lived around 4500 years ago-according to which there was a worldwide flood that killed all animals on Earth, except for those that were on the ark. But there are excellent reasons for believing that such a story is very unlikely to be true, both in the light of the number of animal species that currently exist, and in the light of the evidence-attempts by authors such as Whitcomb and Morris in their book The Genesis Flood: The Biblical Record and its Scientific Implications (1966) to argue otherwise notwithstanding-that there has not been any world-wide flood in the past 5000 years.

In addition, those who view Genesis as a source of important truths do so because it is part of the Bible. So one can also ask about the reliability of the Bible when it testifies to remarkable events. In many cases, of course, there is no way of checking whether those remarkable events actually took place, but when there is, one finds that there is good reason to believe that the event in question did not take place. Thus, for example, there is the story of the sun's standing still for about a day during Joshua's battle at Jericho, the story of the slaughter of all of the Egyptian first-born children, and the story of the graves being opened and the dead walking around the city at the time of Jesus's death (Matthew 27: 52-53). One would surely expect non-Biblical records of such events if they had really taken place, but there are none.

Finally, the religious theodicy that we are considering also involves a number of very problematic moral claims. First, we are asked to believe that there is nothing morally problematic about a morally good deity making it the case that if one of the first two humans disobeys some command, all of the many billions of descendants of that human will, as a consequence, be subject to suffering and death to which they would not otherwise be exposed. Secondly, we are also asked to believe that a morally good deity is unable to forgive people their misdeeds unless he becomes incarnate in the form of his son and suffers a sacrificial death. Thirdly, while, according to this story, those who accept the sacrifice made on their behalf have all their tears wiped away and enjoy eternal happiness in the presence of God, those who do not accept the sacrifice fare considerably less well, and suffer eternal torment in hell. So we are being asked to believe that such eternal punishment is not morally problematic.

In short, the religious theodicy that we have been considering in this section is very implausible, not only on scientific and historical grounds, but on moral grounds as well. The question, accordingly, is whether there is some religious theodicy that is not exposed to scientific, or historical, or moral objections.

In section 1.3, it was argued that concrete formulations of the argument from evil, which focus upon specific evils, or else upon narrowly defined types of evils, are superior to abstract formulations of the argument from evil, which start out from very general statements concerning evil-such as that there is evil in the world, or that there are natural evils, or that there is an enormous amount of evil, and so on. Consider, then, an evidential argument from evil that focuses upon Rowe's famous case of Sue-a young girl who was brutally beaten, raped, and murdered. Confronted with such a case, it is natural to think that a satisfactory response will involve arguing that it is plausible that the terrible occurrence in question itself has some hidden property that makes it the case that allowing it to happen is not morally wrong all things considered.

But as Peter van Inwagen has argued-most recently in The Problem of Evil -there is a very different possibility, and one that he thinks is much more promising. The basic idea is as follows. First of all, one begins by focusing upon abstract formulations of the argument from evil, and one attempts to put forward a story that makes it plausible that the existence of, say, a great amount of horrendous suffering in the world, is actually desirable because there is some great good that outweighs that suffering, and that can only be achieved if that amount of suffering is present, or some greater evil that can only be avoided if that amount of suffering is present. (This story might either be a theodicy-style story that specifies the great good in question, or a defense-style story, which does not do so.) Secondly, if that story provides a satisfactory answer to an abstract version of the argument from evil that focuses upon the existence of horrendous suffering, one can then turn to concrete versions of the argument from evil, and there the idea will be that God had good reason to allow a certain amount of horrendous suffering, and the terrible case of Sue is simply one of the cases that he allowed. It is not that Sue's suffering itself had some property that made its occurrence good all things considered. God could very well have prevented it, and had he done so, he would have eliminated an occurrence that was bad in itself, all things considered. But had he done so, he would have had to have allowed some other horrendous evil that, as things stand, he prevented, and the reason that he would have had to do that would be to ensure that the global property of there being a certain amount of horrendous evil in the world was instantiated-something that was necessary to achieve a greater good, or to avoid a greater evil.

In short, defenses and theodicies that are based upon this idea, rather than appealing to the idea that apparent evils are not evils in themselves, all things considered, once all local properties-all properties that those events themselves have-are taken into account, appeal, instead, to the idea that there are global properties whose instantiation is important, and that can only be instantiated if there are events that are evil in themselves.

Does this shift from local properties to global properties help? It would seem that it cannot. Consider against the case of Sue. An advocate of the evidential argument from evil claims that no matter how carefully one examines the case, and thinks about it, considering, as one does, all of the rightmaking and wrongmaking properties of which one has any knowledge, the conclusion is that the wrongmaking properties of allowing what happened to Sue clearly outweigh any rightmaking properties of allowing that event. The advocate of a global property approach then suggests the possibility that there is some global rightmaking property that involves the world's having a certain amount of evil, or a certain amount of a certain kind of evil, and that if someone had intervened to prevent the rape and murder of Sue, this would have changed the world from one that did have the desired amount of evil, or evil of the type in question, to one that does not, and that when this property is taken into account, it turns out that it would have been wrong to prevent Sue's being raped and murdered-unless one was going to allow some compensating evil elsewhere.

But what exactly is the global wrongmaking property in question? Does one know, or even have any reason at all for believing, that bringing it about that the amount of evil of kind \(K\) is less than some specific amount \(T\) is a wrongmaking property of actions? The answer, surely, is that no one has knowledge of any such wrongmaking property. Moreover, anyone who claimed to have such knowledge would also have to claim also to know that if an omnipotent and omniscient being had prevented the rape and murder of Sue, without also allowing some other, compensating evil action, that would have caused the amount of evil of type \(K\) to dip below level \(T\).

One need not, of course, advance a principle involving some specific value of \(T\). One could, instead, make the existential claim that there is some level \(T\) such that, first, it is a wrongmaking property of an action to cause the amount of evil of type \(K\) to dip below level \(T\), and, second, that if an omnipotent and omniscient being had intervened to prevent the rape and murder of Sue, that would, in the absence of some compensating action, have caused the amount of evil of type \(K\) to dip below level \(T\). But surely no one knows, or even has any reason for believing, that this is the case.

The situation as regards an appeal to global properties is, in short, as follows. An advocate of the argument from evil points to various events, such as the rape and murder of Sue, and claims that no matter how carefully one considers the case, one's conclusion is that the known wrongmaking properties of not preventing that occurrence outweigh any rightmaking properties that not preventing the occurrence is known to have had. In response, the possibility of a relevant, morally significant global property is introduced. But this is a mere possibility, since there is no relevant morally significant global property of which one has knowledge, let alone which one has good reason to believe is present in the case in question. So the possibility of a relevant global property is simply that: a mere possibility, and as such it gets dealt with in the way that all unknown morally significant properties, both rightmaking and wrongmaking, and both local and global, are dealt with in, for example, the logical probability version of the evidential argument from evil set out above in section 3.5.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The term "God" is used with a wide variety of different meanings. These tend to fall, however, into two main groups. On the one hand, there are metaphysical interpretations of the term: God is a prime mover, or a first cause, or a necessary being that has its necessity of itself, or the ground of being, or a being whose essence is identical with its existence.

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the relation of atheism and agnosticism as it relates to theism (the belief that a god exists).

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Atheism and Agnosticism (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The purpose of this entry is to explore how atheism and agnosticism are related to theism and, more importantly, to each other. This requires examining the surprisingly contentious issue of how best to define the terms "atheism" and "agnosticism".

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the complex nature of religious experiences, highlighting their subjective perception as encounters with a divine or spiritually significant reality, distinct from religious feelings or mystical experiences, and examines the epistemological debates and challenges in defining and understanding these phenomena within the broader context of religious diversity and naturalistic explanations.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Reports of religious experiences reveal a variety of different kinds. Perhaps most are visual or auditory presentations (visions and auditions), but not through the physical eyes or ears. Subjects report "seeing" or "hearing," but quickly disavow any claim to seeing or hearing with bodily sense organs. Such experiences are easy to dismiss as hallucinations, but the subjects of the experience frequently claim that though it is entirely internal, like a hallucination or imagination, it is nevertheless a veridical experience, through some spiritual analog of the eye or ear (James 1902 and Alston 1991 cite many examples).

In other cases, the language of "seeing" is used in its extended sense of realization, as when a yogi is said to "see" his or her identity with Brahman; Buddhists speak of "seeing things as they are" as one of the hallmarks of true enlightenment, where this means grasping or realizing the emptiness of things, but not in a purely intellectual way.

A third type is the religious experience that comes through sensory experiences of ordinary objects, but seems to carry with it extra information about some supramundane reality. Examples include experiencing God in nature, in the starry sky, or a flower, or the like. Another person standing nearby would see exactly the same sky or flower, but would not necessarily have the further religious content to his or her experience. There are also cases in which the religious experience just is an ordinary perception, but the physical object is itself the object of religious significance. Moses's experience of the burning bush, or the Buddha's disciples watching him levitate, are examples of this type. A second person standing nearby would see exactly the same phenomenon. Witnesses to miracles are having that kind of religious experience, whether they understand it that way or not.

A fourth type of religious experience is harder to describe: it can't be characterized accurately in sensory language, even analogically, yet the subject of the experience insists that the experience is a real, direct awareness of some religiously significant reality external to the subject. These kinds of experiences are usually described as "ineffable." Depending on one's purposes, other ways of dividing up religious experiences will suggest themselves. For example, William James (1902) divides experiences into "healthy-minded" and "sick-minded," according to the personality of the subject, which colors the content of the experience itself. Keith Yandell (1993, 25-32) divided them into five categories, according to the content of the experiences: monotheistic, nirvanic (enlightenment experiences associated with Buddhism), kevalic (enlightenment experiences associated with Jainism), moksha (experiences of release from karma, associated with Hinduism), and nature experiences. Differences of object certainly make differences in content, and so make differences in what can be said about the experiences. See Section 4 for further discussion of this issue.

Many have thought that there is some special problem with religious language, that it can't be meaningful in the same way that ordinary language is. The Logical Positivists claimed that language is meaningful only insofar as it is moored in our experiences of the physical world. Since we can't account for religious language by linking it to experiences of the physical world, such language is meaningless. Even though religious claims look in every way like ordinary assertions about the world, their lack of empirical consequences makes them meaningless. Ayer (1952) calls such language "metaphysical," and therefore meaningless. He says, "That a transcendent god exists 3s a metaphysical assertion, and therefore not literally significant." The principle of verification went through many formulations as it faced criticism. But if it is understood as a claim about meaning in ordinary language, it seems to be self-undermining, since there is no empirical way to verify it. Eventually, that approach to language fell out of favor, but some still use a modified, weaker version to criticize religious language. For example, Antony Flew (Flew and MacIntyre, 1955) relies on a principle to the effect that if a claim is not falsifiable, it is somehow illegitimate. Martin (1990) and Nielsen (1985) invoke a principle that combines verifiability and falsifiability; to be meaningful, a claim must be one or the other. It is not clear that even these modified and weakened versions of the verification principle entirely escape self-undermining. Even if they do, they seem to take other kinds of language with them-like moral language, talk about the future or past, and talk about the contents of others' minds - that we might be loath to lose. Moreover, to deny the meaningfulness of religious-experience claims on the grounds that it is not moored in experience begs the question, in that it assumes that religious experiences are not real experiences.

Another possibility is to allow that religious claims are meaningful, but they are not true or false, because they should not be understood as assertions. Braithwaite (1970), for example, understands religious claims to be expressions of commitments to sets of values. On such a view, what appears to be a claim about a religious experience is not in fact a claim at all. It might be that some set of mental events, with which the experience itself can be identified, would be the ground and prompting of the claim, but it would not properly be what the claim is about.

A second challenge to religious-experience claims comes from Wittgensteinian accounts of language. Wittgenstein (1978) muses at some length on the differences between how ordinary language is used, and how religious language is used. Others (see Phillips 1970, for example), following Wittgenstein, have tried to give an explanation of the strangeness of religious language by invoking the idea of a language-game. Each language-game has its own rules, including its own procedures for verification. As a result, it is a mistake to treat it like ordinary language, expecting evidence in the ordinary sense, in the same way that it would be a mistake to ask for the evidence for a joke. "I saw God" should not be treated in the same way as "I saw Elvis." Some even go so far as to say the religious language-game is isolated from other practices, such that it would be a mistake to derive any claims about history, geography, or cosmology from them, never mind demand the same kind of evidence for them. On this view, religious experiences should not be treated as comparable to sense experiences, but that does not entail that they are not important, nor that they are not in some sense veridical, in that they could still be avenues for important insights about reality. Such a view can be attributed to D. Z. Phillips (1970).

While this may account for some of the unusual aspects of religious language, it certainly does not capture what many religious people think about the claims they make. As creationism illustrates, many religious folk think it is perfectly permissible to draw empirical conclusions from religious doctrine. Hindus and Buddhists for many centuries thought there was a literal Mount Meru in the middle of the (flat, disc-shaped) world. It would be very odd if "The Buddha attained enlightenment under the bo tree" had to be given a very different treatment from "The Buddha ate rice under the bo tree" because the first is a religious claim and the second is an ordinary empirical claim. There are certainly entailment relations between religious and non-religious claims, too: "Jesus died for my sins" straightforwardly entails "Jesus died."

Since the subjects of religious experiences tend to take them to be real experiences of some external reality, we may ask what reason there is to think they are right. That is to say, do religious experiences amount to good reasons for religious belief? One answer to that question is what is often called the Argument from Religious Experience: Religious experiences are in all relevant respects like sensory experiences; sensory experiences are excellent grounds for beliefs about the physical world; so religious experiences are excellent grounds for religious beliefs. This argument, or one very like it, can be found in Swinburne (1979), Alston (1991), Plantinga (1981, 2000), Netland (2022) and others. Critics of this approach generally find ways in which religious experiences are different from sensory experiences, and argue that those differences are enough to undermine the evidential value of the experiences. Swinburne (1979) invokes what he calls the "Principle of Credulity," according to which one is justified in believing that what seems to one to be present actually is present, unless some appropriate defeater is operative. He then discusses a variety of circumstances that would be defeaters in the ordinary sensory case, and argues that those defeaters do not obtain, or not always, in the case of religious experience. To reject his argument, one would have to show that religious experience is unlike sensory experience in that in the religious case, one or more of the defeaters always obtains. Anyone who accepts the principle has excellent reason to accept the deliverances of religious experience, unless he or she believes that defeaters always, or almost always, obtain.

Plantinga offers a different kind of argument. According to Cartesian-style foundationalism, in order to count as justified, a belief must either be grounded in other justified beliefs, or derive its justification from some special status, like infallibility, incorrigibility, or indubitability. There is a parallel view about knowledge. Plantinga (1981) argued that such a foundationalism is inconsistent with holding one's own ordinary beliefs about the world to be justified (or knowledge), because our ordinary beliefs derived from sense-experience aren't derived from anything infallible, indubitable, or incorrigible. In fact, we typically treat them as foundational, in need of no further justification. If we hold sensory beliefs to be properly basic, then we have to hold similarly formed religious beliefs, formed on experiences of God manifesting himself to a believer (Plantinga calls them 'M-beliefs'), as properly basic. He proposed that human beings have a faculty-what John Calvin called the ' sensus divinitatis '-that allows them to be aware of God's actions or dispositions with respect to them. If beliefs formed by sense-experience can be properly basic, then beliefs formed by this faculty cannot, in any principled way, be denied that same status. His developed theory of warrant (2000) implies that, if the beliefs are true, then they are warranted. One cannot attack claims of religious experience without first addressing the question as to whether the religious claims are true. He admits that, since there are people in other religious traditions who have based beliefs about religious matters on similar purported manifestations, they may be able to make the same argument about their own religious experiences.

Alston develops a general theory of doxastic practices (constellations of belief-forming mechanisms, together with characteristic background assumptions and sets of defeaters), gives an account of what it is to rationally engage in such a practice, and then argues that at least the practice of forming beliefs on the basis of Christian religious experiences fulfills those requirements. If we think of the broad doxastic practices we currently employ, we see that some of them can be justified by the use of other practices. The practice of science, for example, reduces mostly to the practices of sense-perception, deductive reasoning, and inductive reasoning (memory and testimony also make contributions, of course). The justificatory status the practice gives to its product beliefs derives from those more basic practices. Most, however, cannot be so reduced. How are they justified, then? It seems that they cannot be justified non-circularly, that is, without the use of premises derived from the practices themselves. Our only justification for continuing to trust these practices is that they are firmly established, interwoven with other practices and projects of ours, and have "stood the test of time" by producing mostly consistent sets of beliefs. They produce a sufficiently consistent set of beliefs if they don't produce massive, unavoidable contradictions on central matters, either internally, or with the outputs of other equally well-established practices. If that's all there is to be said about our ordinary practices, then we ought to extend the same status to other practices that have the same features. He then argues that the Christian practice of belief-formation on the basis of religious experience does have those features. Like Plantinga, he admits that such an argument might be equally available to other religious practices; it all depends on whether the practice in question generates massive and unavoidable contradictions, on central matters, either internally, or with other equally well-established practices. To undermine this argument, one would have to show either that Alston's criteria for rationality of a practice are too permissive, or that religious practices never escape massive contradictions.

Both Plantinga's and Alston's defense of the epistemic value of religious experiences turn crucially on some degree of similarity with sense-experience. But they are not simple arguments from analogy; not just any similarities will do to make the positive argument, and not just any dissimilarities will do to defeat the argument. The similarities or dissimilarities need to be epistemologically relevant. It is not enough, for example, to show that religious experiences do not typically allow for independent public verification, unless one wants to give up on other perfectly respectable practices, like rational intuition, that also lack that feature.

The two most important defeaters on the table for claims of the epistemic authority of religious experience are the fact of religious diversity, and the availability of naturalistic explanations for religious experiences. Religious diversity is a prima facie defeater for the veridicality of religious experiences in the same way that wildly conflicting eyewitness reports undermine each other. If the reports are at all similar, then it may be reasonable to conclude that there is some truth to the testimony, at least in broad outline. A version of this objection is the argument from divine hiddenness (cf. Lovering 2013). If God exists, and shows himself to some people in religious experiences, then the fact that he doesn't do so for more people, more widely distributed, requires some explanation. Axtell provides another version of that objection. He argues that to insist that one's own religious convictions are true in the face of the diversity of religions is to reason counter-inductively, and is therefore irrational. The reasoning is counter-inductive because your own convictions come from the same kinds of epistemic sources (investment in testimonial authority) as those you deem to be wrong, so if you are right, it is just a matter of luck. But if two eyewitness reports disagree on the most basic facts about what happened, then it seems that neither gives you good grounds for any beliefs about what happened. It certainly seems that the contents of religious-experience reports are radically different from one another. Some subjects of religious experiences report experience of nothingness as the ultimate reality, some a vast impersonal consciousness in which we all participate, some an infinitely perfect, personal creator. To maintain that one's own religious experiences are veridical, one would have to a) find some common core to all these experiences, such that in spite of differences of detail, they could reasonably be construed as experiences of the same reality, or b) insist that one's own experiences are veridical, and that therefore those of other traditions are not veridical. The first is difficult to manage, in the face of the manifest differences across religions. Nevertheless, John Hick (1989) develops a view of that kind, making use of a Kantian two-worlds epistemology. The idea is that the object of these experiences, in itself, is one and the same reality, but it is experienced phenomenally by different people differently. Thus, is possible to see how one and the same object can be experienced in ways that are completely incompatible with one another. This approach is only as plausible as the Kantian framework itself is. Jerome Gellman (2001) proposes a similar idea, without the Kantian baggage. Solutions like these leave the problem untouched: If the different practices produce experiences the contents of which are inconsistent with one another, one of the practices must be unreliable. Alston (1991) and Plantinga (2000) develop the second kind of answer. The general strategy is to argue that, from within a tradition, a person acquires epistemic resources not available to those outside the tradition, just as travelling to the heart of a jungle allows one to see things that those who have not made the journey can't see. As a result, even if people in other traditions can make the same argument, it is still reasonable to say that some are right and the others are wrong. The things that justify my beliefs still justify them, even if you have comparable resources justifying a contrary view.

Naturalistic explanations for religious experiences are thought to undermine their epistemic value because, if the naturalistic explanation is sufficient to explain the experience, we have no grounds for positing anything beyond that naturalistic cause. Freud (1927) and Marx (1876/1977) are frequently held up as offering such explanations. Freud claims that religious experiences can be adequately explained by psychological mechanisms having their root in early childhood experience and psychodynamic tensions. Marx similarly attributes religious belief in general to materialistic economic forces. Both claim that, since the hidden psychological or economic explanations are sufficient to explain the origins of religious belief, there is no need to suppose, in addition, that the beliefs are true. Freud's theory of religion has few adherents, even among the psychoanalytically inclined, and Marx's view likewise has all but been abandoned, but that is not to say that something in the neighborhood might not be true. More recently, neurological explanations of religious experience have been put forward as reasons to deny the veridicality of the experiences. Events in the brain that occur during meditative states and other religious experiences are very similar to events that happen during certain kinds of seizures, or with certain kinds of mental disorders, and can also be induced with drugs. Therefore, it is argued, there is nothing more to religious experiences than what happens in seizures, mental disorders, or drug experiences. Some who are studying the neurological basis of religious experience do not infer that they are not veridical (see, e.g., d'Aquili and Newberg 1999), but many do. Guthrie (1995), for example, argues that religion has its origin in our tendency to anthropomorphize phenomena in our vicinity, seeing agency where there is none.

There are general problems with all kinds of naturalistic explanations as defeaters. First of all, as Gellman (2001) points out, most such explanations (like the psychoanalytic and socio-political ones) are put forward as hypotheses, not as established facts. The proponent assumes that the experiences are not veridical, then casts around for an explanation. This is not true of the neurological explanations, but they face another kind of weakness noted by Ellwood (1999): every experience, whatever its source, is accompanied by a corresponding neurological state. To argue that the experience is illusory because there is a corresponding brain state is fallacious. The same reasoning would lead us to conclude that sensory experiences are illusory, since in each sensory experience, there is some corresponding neurological state that is just like the state that occurs in the corresponding hallucination. The proponent of the naturalistic explanation as a defeater owes us some reason to believe that his or her argument is not just another skeptical argument from the veil of perception.

One further epistemological worry accompanies religious experience. James claimed that, while mystical experiences proved authoritative grounds for belief in the person experiencing them, they cannot give grounds for a person to whom the experience is reported. In other words, my experience is evidence for me, but not for you. Bovens (2012) gives a modern expansion and explanation of this claim. The claim can be understood in a variety of ways, depending on the kind of normativity that attaches to the purported evidential relation. Some (see Oakes 1976, for example) have claimed that religious experiences epistemically can necessitate belief; that is, anyone who has the experience and doesn't form the corresponding belief is making an epistemic mistake, much like a person who, in normal conditions, refuses to believe his or her eyes. More commonly, defenders of the epistemic value of religious experience claim that the experiences make it epistemically permissible to form the belief, but you may also be justified in not forming the belief. The testimony of other people about what they have experienced is much the same. In some cases, a person would be unjustified in rejecting the testimony of others, and in other cases, one would be justified in accepting it, but need not accept it. This leaves us with three possibilities, on the assumption that the subject of the experience is justified in forming a religious belief on the basis of his or her experience, and that he or she tells someone else about it: the testimony might provide compelling evidence for the hearer, such that he or she would be unjustified in rejecting the claim; the testimony might provide non-compelling justification for the hearer to accept the claim; or the testimony might fail to provide any kind of grounds for the hearer to accept the claim. When a subject makes a claim on the basis of an ordinary experience, it might fall into any one of these three categories, depending on the claim's content and the epistemic situation of the hearer. The most natural thing to say about religious experience claims is that they work the same way (on the assumption that they give the subject of the experience, who is making the claim, any justification for his or her beliefs). James, and some others after him, claim that testimony about religious experiences cannot fall under either of the first two categories. If that's true, it must be because of something special about the nature of the experiences. If we assume that the experiences cannot be shown a priori to be defective somehow, and that religious language is intelligible-and if we do not make these assumptions, then the question of religious testimony doesn't even arise-then it must be because the evidential value of the experience is so small that it cannot survive transmission to another person; that is, it must be that in the ordinary act of reporting an experience to someone else, there is some defeater at work that is always stronger than whatever evidential force the experience itself has. While there are important differences between ordinary sense-experience and religious experience (clarity of the experience, amount of information it contains, presence of competing explanations, and the like), it is not clear whether the differences are great enough to disqualify religious testimony always and everywhere.

Just as there are a variety of religions, each with its own claims about the nature of reality, there are a variety of objects and states of affairs that the subjects of these experiences claim to be aware of. Much analytic philosophy of religion has been done in Europe and the nations descended from Europe, so much of the discussion has been in terms of God as conceived of in the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions. In those traditions, the object of religious experiences is typically God himself, understood as an eternal, omniscient, omnipotent, free, and perfectly good spirit. God, for reasons of his own, reveals himself to people, some of them unbidden (like Moses, Muhammad, and Saint Paul), and some because they have undertaken a rigorous practice to draw closer to him (like the mystics). To say that an experience comes unbidden is not to say that nothing the subject has done has prepared her, or primed her, for the experience (see Luhrmann 2012); it is only to claim that the subject has not undertaken any practice aimed at producing a religious experience. In such experiences, God frequently delivers a message at the same time, but he need not. He is always identifiable as the same being who revealed himself to others in the same tradition. Other experiences can be of angels, demons, saints, heaven, hell, or other religiously significant objects.

In other traditions, it is not necessarily a personal being who is the object of the experience, or even a positive being at all. In the traditions that find their origin in the Indian subcontinent-chiefly Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism-the object of religious experiences is some basic fact or feature of reality, rather than some entity separate from the universe. In the orthodox Hindu traditions, one may certainly have an experience of a god or some other supernatural entity (like Arjuna's encounter with Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita), but a great many important kinds of experiences are of Brahman, and its identity with the self. In Yoga, which is based in the Samkhya understanding of the nature of things, the mystical practice of yoga leads to a calming and stilling of the mind, which allows the yogi to apprehend directly that he or she is not identical to, or even causally connected with, the physical body, and this realization is what liberates him or her from suffering.

In Theravada Buddhism, the goal of meditation is to "see things as they are," which is to see them as unsatisfactory, impermanent, and not-self (Gowans 2003, 191). The meditator, as he or she makes progress along the way, sheds various delusions and attachments. The last one to go is the delusion that he or she is a self. To see this is to see all of reality as made up of sequences of momentary events, each causally dependent on the ones that went before. There are no abiding substances, and no eternal souls. Seeing reality that way extinguishes the fires of craving, and liberates the meditator from the necessity of rebirth (Laumakis 2008, 158-161). Seeing things as they are involves removing from the mind all the delusions that stand in the way of such seeing, which is done by meditation practices that develop the meditator's mastery of his or her own mind. The type of meditation that brings this mastery and allows the meditator to see the true nature of things is called Vipassana (insight) meditation. It typically involves some object of meditation, which can be some feature of the meditator him- or herself, some feature of the physical or mental world, or some abstraction, which then becomes the focus of the meditator's concentration and examination. In the end, it is hoped, the meditator will see in the object the unsatisfactory and impermanent nature of things and that there is no self to be found in them. At the moment of that insight, nirvana is achieved. While the experience of nirvana is essentially the realization of a kind of insight, it is also accompanied by other experiential elements, especially of the cessation of negative mental states. Nirvana is described in the Buddhist canon as the extinction of the fires of desire. The Theravada tradition teaches other kinds of meditation that can help the meditator make progress, but the final goal can't be achieved without vipassana meditation.

In the Mahayana Buddhist traditions, this idea of the constantly fluctuating nature of the universe is extended in various ways. For some, even those momentary events that make up the flow of the world are understood to be empty of inherent existence (the idea of inherent existence is understood differently in different traditions) to the point that what one sees in the enlightenment experience is the ultimate emptiness ( sunyata) of all things. In the Yogacara school of Mahayana Buddhism, this is understood as emptiness of external existence; that is, to see things as they are is to see them as all mind-dependent. In the Zen school of Mahayana Buddhism, the enlightenment experience ( kensho) reveals that reality contains no distinctions or dualities. Since concepts and language always involve distinctions, which always involve duality, the insight so gained cannot be achieved conceptually or expressed linguistically. In all Mahayana schools, what brings enlightenment is direct realization of sunyata as a basic fact about reality.

The situation is somewhat more complicated in the Chinese traditions. The idea of religious experience seems to be almost completely absent in the Confucian tradition; the social world looms large, and the idea of an ultimate reality that needs to be experienced becomes much less prominent. Before the arrival of Buddhism in China, Confucianism was primarily a political and ethical system, with no particular concern with the transcendent (though people who identified themselves as Confucians frequently engaged in Chinese folk religious practices). Nevertheless, meditation (and therefore something that could be called "religious experience") did come to play a role in Confucian practice in the tenth century, as Confucian thought began to be influenced by Buddhist and Daoist thought. The resulting view is known as Neo-Confucianism. Neo-Confucianism retains the Mencian doctrine that human beings are by nature good, but in need of purification. Since goodness resides in every person, then examination of oneself should reveal the nature of goodness, through the experience of the vital force within ( qi). The form of meditation that arises from this line of thought ("quiet sitting" or "sitting and forgetting") are very like Buddhist vipassana meditation, but there is no value placed on any particular insight gained, though one can experience the principle of unity ( li) behind the world. Success is measured in gradual moral improvement.

The Daoist ideal is to come to an understanding of the Dao, the fundamental nature of reality that explains all things in the world, and live according to it. Knowledge of the Dao is essential to the good life, but this knowledge cannot be learned from discourses, or transmitted by teaching. It is only known by experiential acquaintance. The Dao gives the universe a kind of grain, or flow, going against which causes human difficulty. The good human life is then one that respects the flow of Dao, and goes along with it. This is what is meant by "life in accordance with nature," and is the insight behind the Daoist admonition of wu wei, sometimes glossed as "actionless action." By paying attention to reality as it presents itself, a person can learn what the Dao is, and can experience unity with it. This picture of reality, along with the picture of how one can come to know it, heavily influenced the development of Ch'an Buddhism, which became Zen.

All of the same epistemological problems that arise for theism will also arise for these other traditions, though in different forms. That is, one can ask of experiences of Brahman, Sunyata, the Dao, and anything else that is the object of religious experience whether there is any reason to think the experience is veridical. One can also ask whether testimony about those experiences carries the same weight as ordinary experience. Naturalistic explanations can also be offered to these experiences. It is equally true that the responses that have been offered to these objections in a theistic context are also available to defenders of non-theistic religious experience.

Alston, William P., 1991. Perceiving God, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Ayer, A. J., 1952. Language, Truth, and Logic, New York: Dover Publications.

Axtell, Guy, 2018. Problems of Religious Luck: Assessing the Limits of Reasonable Religious Disagreement, New York: Rowman and Littlefield.

Bovens, Luc, 2012. "Does it Matter Whether a Miracle-Like Event Happens to Oneself rather than to Someone Else?" in Jake Chandler & Victoria S. Harrison (eds.), Probability in the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press. pp. 64-75.

Boyer, Pascal, 2001. Religion Explained: the Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought, New York: Basic Books.

Braithwaite, Richard, 1970. "An Empiricist's View of the Nature of Religious Belief," in Basil Mitchell (ed.), The Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 72-91.

Brown, David, 2015. "Realism and Religious Experience," Religious Studies, 51(4): 497-512.

D'Aquili, Eugene, and Andrew B. Newberg, 1999. The Mystical Mind: Probing the Biology of Religious Experience, Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Ellwood, Robert S., 1999. Mysticism and Religion, New York: Seven Bridges Press.

Flew, Antony, and Alasdair MacIntyre, 1955. New Essays in Philosophical Theology, New York: Macmillan.

Freud, Sigmund, 1927. The Future of an Illusion, inThe Future of an Illusion, Civilization and its Discontents, and Other Works (Volume XXI, The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud), London: Hogarth Press, 1-56.

Gellman, Jerome, 2001. Mystical Experience of God, Burlington: Ashgate Publishing.

---, 2005. "Mysticism and Religious Experience," in William Wainwright (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Religion, New York: Oxford University Press.

Gowans, Christopher W., 2003. Philosophy of the Buddha, New York: Routledge.

Guthrie, Stewart Elliot, 1995. Faces in the Clouds: A New Theory of Religion, New York: Oxford University Press.

Hick, John, 1989. An Interpretation of Religion: Human Responses to the Transcendent, London: Macmillan.

---, 2006. The New Frontier of Religion and Science: Religious Experience, Neuroscience, and the Transcendent, New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

James, William, 1902. Varieties of Religious Experience, London: Longmans, Green, and Co.

Laumakis, Stephen J., 2008. An Introduction to Buddhist Philosophy, New York: Cambridge.

Lovering, Rob, 2013. God and Evidence: Problems for Theistic Philosophers, New York: Bloomsbury.

Luhrmann, Tanya, 2012. When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship with God, New York: Vintage.

Martin, Michael, 1990. Atheism: A Philosophical Justification, Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Marx, Karl, 1977. Introduction to A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right, Joseph O'Malley and Annette Jolin (trans.), New York: Cambridge.

Moser, Paul, 2008. The Elusive God: Reorienting Religious Epistemology, New York: Cambridge University Press.

---, 2020. Understanding Religious Experience: from Conviction to Life's Meaning, New York: Cambridge University Press.

Netland, Harold A., 2022. Religious Experience and the Knowledge of God: the Evidential Force of Divine Encounters, Grand Rapids: Baker Books.

Nielsen, Kai, 1985. Philosophy and Atheism, New York: Prometheus Books.

Oakes, Robert A., 1976, "Religious Experience and Rational Certainty," Religious Studies, 12(3): 311-318.

Otto, Rudolf, 1923. The Idea of the Holy, John W. Harvey (trans.), London: Cambridge University Press.

Phillips, D. Z., 1970. "Religious Beliefs and Language Games," Ratio, 12: 26-46.

Plantinga, Alvin, 1981, "Is Belief in God Properly Basic?" Noûs, 15: 41-51.

---, 2000, Warranted Christian Belief, New York: Oxford University Press.

Rainey, Lee Dian, 2010. Confucius and Confucianism: the Essentials, New York: Wiley-Blackwell.

Saver, Jeffrey L., and John Rabin, 1997. "The Neural Substrates of Religious Experience," Journal of Neuropsychiatry, 9: 498-510.

Schleiermacher, Friedrich, 1998. On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers, Richard Crouter (ed.), New York: Cambridge.

Swinburne, Richard, 1979. The Existence of God, New York: Clarendon Press.

Taylor, Rodney L., 1990. The Religious Dimensions of Confucianism, Albany: SUNY Press.

Wainwright, William J., 1981. Mysticism: A Study of its Nature, Cognitive Value, and Moral Implications, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.

Webb, Mark Owen, 2015. A Comparative Doxastic-Practice Epistemology of Religious Experience, New York: Springer.

Wettstein, Howard, 2012. The Significance of Religious Experience, New York: Oxford University Press.

Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 1978. Lectures and Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychology, and Religious Belief, Cyril Barrett (ed.), Berkeley: University of California Press.

Yandell, Keith E., 1993. The Epistemology of Religious Experience, New York: Cambridge University Press.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Reports of religious experiences reveal a variety of different kinds. Perhaps most are visual or auditory presentations (visions and auditions), but not through the physical eyes or ears. Subjects report "seeing" or "hearing," but quickly disavow any claim to seeing or hearing with bodily sense organs.

# data[].attributes.body
This article questions the concept of miracles, and explores the arguments for and against the existence of miracles.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The philosophical discussion of miracles has focused principally on the credibility of certain claims in the Jewish and Christian scriptures. But inquiry into the credibility of specific miracle claims inevitably raises questions regarding the concept of a miracle, and arguments regarding particular claims cannot be evaluated until the nature of that concept has been at least reasonably clarified.

A common approach is to define a miracle as an interruption of the order or course of nature (Sherlock 1843: 57). Some stable background is, in fact, presupposed by the use of the term, as William Adams (1767: 15) notes:

An experienced uniformity in the course of nature hath been always thought necessary to the belief and use of miracles. These are indeed relative ideas. There must be an ordinary regular course of nature, before there can be any thing extraordinary. A river must flow, before its stream can be interrupted.

As it stands, however, this definition leaves us wanting a more precise conception of what is meant by the order or course of nature. We might therefore try to tighten the definition by saying that a miracle is an event that exceeds the productive power of nature (St. Thomas Aquinas, SCG 3.103; ST 1.110, art. 4), where "nature" is construed broadly enough to include ourselves and any other creatures substantially like ourselves. Variations on this include the idea that a miracle is an event that would have happened only given the intervention of an agent not wholly bound by nature (Larmer 1988: 9) and that a miracle is an event that would have happened only if there were a violation of the causal closure of the physical world.

David Hume (Hume 1748/2000; cf. Voltaire 1764/1901: 272) famously defined a miracle as "a violation of the laws of nature," and this definition has been the focus of lively discussion ever since. Hume evidently means to denote something beyond mere changes in the regular course of nature, raising the bar higher for something to qualify as a miracle but also raising the potential epistemic significance of such an event if it could be authenticated.

Bringing the concept of natural laws into the definition of "miracle" is, however, problematic, and for a variety of reasons many writers have found it untenable (Brown 1822: 219-33; Beard 1845: 35; Lias 1890: 5-7; Huxley 1894:154-58; Joyce 1914: 17; Hesse 1965; Montgomery 1978; but see Wardlaw 1852: 27-41). First, the concept of a miracle predates any modern concept of a natural law by many centuries. While this does not necessarily preclude Hume's concept, it does raise the question of what concept or concepts earlier thinkers had in mind and of why the Humean concept should be thought preferable (Tucker 2005). One benefit of defining miracles in terms of violations of natural law is that this definition entails that a miracle is beyond the productive power of nature. But if that is the key idea, then it is hard to see why we should not simply use that as the definition and leave out the problematic talk of laws.

Second, it becomes difficult to say in some cases just which natural laws are being violated by the event in question (Earman 2000). That dead men stay dead is a widely observed fact, but it is not, in the ordinary scientific use of the term, a law of nature that dead men stay dead. The laws involved in the decomposition of a dead body are all at a much more fundamental level, at least at the level of biochemical and thermodynamic processes and perhaps at the level of interactions of fundamental particles.

Third, there are deep philosophical disagreements regarding the nature and even the existence of natural laws. On Hume's own "regularity" view of natural laws, it is difficult to see what it would mean for a natural law to be violated. If the natural laws are simply compendious statements of natural regularities, an apparent "violation" would most naturally be an indication, not that a supernatural intervention in the course of nature had occurred, but rather that what we had thought was a natural law was, in fact, not one. On metaphysically rich conceptions of natural laws, violations are problematic since the laws involve relations of necessity among universals. And on the view that there are no natural laws whatsoever, the set of events satisfying the Humean definition of a miracle is, trivially, empty.

Speaking of miracles as violations of the laws of nature also raises questions about the nature of violation. Richard Swinburne (1970) has suggested that a miracle might be defined as a non-repeatable counter-instance to a law of nature. If a putative law has broad scope, great explanatory power, and appealing simplicity, it may be more reasonable, Swinburne argues, to retain the law (defined as a regularity that virtually invariably holds) and to accept that the event in question is a non-repeatable counter-instance of that law than to throw out the law and create a vastly more complex law that accommodates the event.

One way to get around all of these problems and still retain the Humean formulation is simply to redefine the laws of nature. J. L. Mackie sums up this perspective neatly:

The laws of nature ... describe the ways in which the world-including, of course, human beings-works when left to itself, when not interfered with. A miracle occurs when the world is not left to itself, when something distinct from the natural order as a whole intrudes into it. (Mackie 1982: 19-20)

With the notion of "natural law" thus redefined, the "violation" definition becomes virtually equivalent to the earlier definition of a miracle as an event that exceeds the productive power of nature. And in Mackie's formulation it has the desirable feature that it makes evident the connection between a miracle and supernatural agency.

Beyond all of these considerations, some authors have made a case for the restriction of the term "miracle" to events that are supernaturally caused and have some palpable religious significance. An insignificant shift in a few grains of sand in the lonesome desert might, if it exceeded the productive powers of nature, qualify as a miracle in some thin sense, but it would manifestly lack religious significance and could not be used as the fulcrum for any interesting argument. Considerations such as this have led many authors to build both the type of agency and some intimation of the purpose into the definition of a miracle. Thus, Samuel Clarke (1719: 311-12) writes that

the true Definition of a Miracle, in theTheological Sense of the Word, is this; that it is a work effected in a mannerunusual, or different from the common and regular Method of Providence, by the interposition either of God himself, or of some Intelligent Agent superiour to Man, for the Proof or Evidence of some particular Doctrine, or in attestation to the Authority of some particular Person.

Hume also, in one of his definitions of "miracle," speaks of an event brought about "by a particular volition of the Deity, or by the interposition of some invisible agent" (Hume 1748/2000: 87). Since the paradigmatic cases under discussion are for the most part claims that, if true, would answer to the theological dimension of Clarke's description, one might take a supernatural cause to be a necessary condition for an event's being a religiously significant miracle and use the word "miracle" in this sense where there is no danger of confusion. On the other hand, Basinger (2018: 4) argues that incorporating the condition of supernatural agency into the definition of a miracles would have the awkward consequence that the question of whether an event is considered miraculous would depend upon an individual's psychological sense; and while such definitions are possible, they are out of the main stream of discussion in the literature on miracles.

On the whole, then, the project of giving a definition for the term "miracle" appears to have reached a point where further refinements offer only diminshing returns. A miracle is an event that exceeds the productive power of nature, and a religiously significant miracle is a detectable miracle that has a supernatural cause. For practical purposes, we need nothing further. The paradigmatic claims under discussion-that a man who has died was raised to life again several days after his death, for example, or that water was changed instantaneously into wine-satisfy not only this definition but also most of the alternative proposals that have been seriously advanced.

"Miracles, indeed, would prove something," admits the eponymous skeptic in Berkeley's Alciphron. "But what proof have we of these miracles?" (Berkeley 1732/1898: 364) There is no lack of answers in the literature. But the variety of premises, the multiplicity of argumentative structures, and the diversity of aims employed to this end can be bewildering.

Many arguments for miracles adduce the testimony of sincere and able eyewitnesses as the key piece of evidence on which the force of the argument depends. But other factors are also cited in favor of miracle claims: the existence of commemorative ceremonies from earliest times, for example, or the transformation of the eyewitnesses from fearful cowards into defiant proclaimers of the resurrection, or the conversion of St. Paul, or the growth of the early church under extremely adverse conditions and without any of the normal conditions of success such as wealth, patronage, or the use of force. These considerations are often used jointly in a cumulative argument. It is therefore difficult to isolate a single canonical argument for most miracle claims. The various arguments must be handled on a case-by-case basis.

Two dimensions of classification help to bring into focus the nature of the various arguments that have been advanced on behalf of miracle claims, one having to do with the aims of the arguments and the other having to do with their structure.

We may first distinguish between arguments designed to show that their conclusions are true, reasonable, or justified, on the one hand, and arguments designed to show that their conclusions are more reasonable or more justified than they were apart from the considerations adduced. The former we may stipulatively call categorical arguments; the latter, confirmatory arguments. When the arguments are probabilistic in nature, this reduces to Richard Swinburne's terminology of P-inductive and C-inductive arguments, the former intending to show that the conclusion (in this case that the miracle in question has actually occurred) is probable to some specific degree, or at least more probable than not, and the latter intending to show that the conclusion is more probable given the evidence presented than it is considered independently of that evidence (Swinburne, 2004). But the broader distinction between arguments that purport to command our rational assent and arguments that have the more modest goal of showing their conclusions to be to some (perhaps specified) extent confirmed is one that can be employed independently of the use of the language of probability.

In addition to this classification of the aims of an argument, there is a more common distinction among arguments in terms of their structure. Broadly speaking, most arguments for miracle claims fall into one of four structural categories: deductive, criteriological, explanatory, or probabilistic. A valid deductive argument is one in which, given the truth of the premises, the conclusion must also be true. A criteriological argument sets forth some criteria ostensibly met by the claim in question and concludes that the satisfaction of those criteria reflects well on the claim-that it is certain, or true, or likely to be true, or plausible, or more plausible than it would have been had it not met the criteria. An explanatory argument is typically contrastive: it aims to show, for example, that one hypothesis is a better explanation of a certain body of facts than any rival hypothesis or than the disjunction of all rival hypotheses. A probabilistic argument aims to show that the conclusion is more probable than not, or that it is more probable than some fixed standard (say, 0.99), or that it is far more probable given the evidence adduced than it is considered independent of that evidence.

The latter three categories are not mutually exclusive. An argument may be put forward as criteriological but be best analyzed, on reflection, as explanatory; an explanatory argument may be best analyzed in probabilistic terms. But the fourfold classification will do for a first rough sorting.

2.2.1 Deductive arguments

Deductive arguments for miracle claims are relatively rare in serious modern discussions, since they are subject to peculiar liabilities. Here, for example, is a deductive reconstruction of an argument given by William Paley (1859), broadly modeled on the version given by Richard Whately (1870: 254-258) and other Victorian logicians:

1. All miracles attested by persons, claiming to have witnessed them, who pass their lives in labors, dangers, and sufferings in support of their statements, and who, in consequence of their belief, submit to new rules of conduct, are worthy of credit.

2. The central Christian miracles are attested by such evidence.

Therefore,

The central Christian miracles are worthy of credit.

There are several strategies available for pressing a critique of this argument. In ancient times, premise 2 was generally conceded, while premise 1 was contested; since the Enlightenment, it has become somewhat more common for critics to contest premise 2 as well. There are also indirect approaches that exploit the deductive structure of the argument to argue that something must be wrong with the argument without getting bogged down in the details of a specific critique. Adding further true premises does not reduce the support that a deductive argument gives to its conclusion; but the addition of such premises may bring to light some awkward consequences. One interpretation of one part of Hume's strategy in "Of Miracles," part 2 is that he has in mind the addition of a further premise:

2*. Various non-Christian miracles are attested by such (or better) evidence,

the conclusion envisaged being, of course, that

3*. Various non-Christian miracles are worthy of credit.

The strategy is intended as a reductio ad absurdum of the first premise, since prima facie it is not the case that both the Christian miracles and the non-Christian miracles are worthy of credit. Paley does not cast his own argument into a deductive form, but he does attempt to forestall this sort of criticism by adding, in rounding out Part 1, an additional claim for which he offers several lines of argument:

[T]here is not satisfactory evidence, that persons professing to be original witnesses of other miracles, in their nature as certain as these are, have ever acted in the same manner, in attestation of the accounts which they delivered, and properly in consequence of their belief of those accounts. (Paley 1859: 181)

2.2.2 Criteriological arguments

A classic formulation of a criteriological argument for miracles is employed by Charles Leslie (1697/1815: 13), who argues that we may safely believe an historical claim that meets four criteria:

1. That the matters of fact be such, as that men's outward senses, their eyes and ears, may be judges of it.

2. That it be done publicly in the face of the world.

3. That not only public monuments be kept up in memory of it, but some outward actions to be performed.

4. That such monuments, and such actions or observances, be instituted, and do commence from the time that the matter of fact was done.

The first two criteria, Leslie explains, "make it impossible for any such matter of fact to be imposed upon men, at the time when such fact was said to be done, because every man's eyes and senses would contradict it." The latter two criteria assure those who come afterwards that the account of the event was not invented subsequent to the time of the purported event. Leslie points out that these criteria are not necessary conditions of factual truth, but he insists that they are-taken jointly-sufficient. Hence we may speak of Leslie's principle: If any reported event meets all four of these criteria, then its historicity is certain.

In assessing a criteriological argument, we need to ask not only whether the event in question meets the criteria but also whether the criteria themselves are good indicators of truth. An argument for the criteria that Leslie gives cannot proceed wholly a priori, since there is not a necessary connection between an event's satisfying the criteria and its being true. In this case, perhaps the most promising approach would be to argue that the criteria effectively rule out explanations other than the truth of the claim. Leslie's remarks suggest that this is the direction he would go if challenged, but he does not offer a fully developed defense of his criteria.

Leslie's argument is, in the sense outlined above, categorical-he holds that, as the claim of the resurrection meets all four criteria (the memorials being supplied by the Christian commemoration of the last supper and the transfer of the day of worship from the Sabbath (Saturday) to the first day of the week (Sunday)), the certainty of the matter of fact in question is "demonstrated." This rather bold claim opens the possibility of refutation of Leslie's principle by counterexample, though reportedly Conyers Middleton, a contemporary of Hume whose critique of the ecclesiastical miracles was notable for its thoroughness, searched vainly for years for a counterexample to Leslie's principle. Be that as it may, a criteriological argument may also be constructed on the basis of a more modest principle, such as that if any reported event meets all four of these criteria, then it is reasonable to accept its historicity.

The chief difficulty with criteriological arguments, whether bold or modest, is that they provide no means for taking into account any other considerations that might weigh against the historical claim in question. Intuitively, extreme antecedent improbability ought to carry some weight in our evaluation of the credibility of a factual claim. A defender of a criteriological argument might respond that so long as the bar is set high enough, antecedent improbability will be overwhelmed by the fact that the event does indeed meet the stipulated criteria. But this is a claim that requires argument; and the bolder the conclusion, the more argument it requires.

2.2.3 Explanatory arguments

A third approach to arguing for a miracle claim is to argue that it is the best explanation for a small set of widely conceded facts. A typical "minimal facts" argument for the resurrection of Jesus starts with a list of facts such as these (Habermas 1996: 162):

1. Jesus died by crucifixion.

2. His disciples subsequently had experiences which they believed were literal physical appearances of the risen Jesus.

3. The disciples were transformed from fearful cowards into bold proclaimers who were willing to face persecution and death for their message.

4. Paul, who had previously been a persecutor of the Christians, had an experience that he also believed was an appearance of the risen Jesus.

None of these four facts is, in itself, a supernatural claim, and virtually all critical scholars with relevant expertise concur in these facts on ordinary historical grounds. The explanatory argument starts with this scholarly consensus and contends that all alternative explanations for these facts are inferior to the explanation that Jesus actually did rise from the dead. The conclusion is therefore typically categorical.

One advantage of this approach over the criteriological approach is that the inference is explicitly contrastive: the argument engages directly with alternative explanations of the data. Such engagement brings with it the burden of examining a variety of alternative explanations, a burden that is sometimes discharged by reference to established criteria of historical explanation (Craig 2008: 233).

This sort of explanatory argument may be contested in at least five ways, a number of which have been explored. First, one might try, the scholarly consensus notwithstanding, to dispute the facts asserted. (Crossan, in Copan 1998) If successful, this strategy would undermine the positive argument. Second, one might grant, if only for the sake of the argument, the prima facie force of the positive argument but attempt to neutralize it by widening the factual basis to include a matching set of facts, equally well attested, for which the falsehood of the resurrection account is the best explanation. Third, one might argue that the relative merits of the miraculous and non-miraculous explanations have been improperly assessed and that, rightly considered, one or more of the non-miraculous explanations is actually preferable as an explanation of the facts in question. (Lüdemann, in Copan and Tacelli 2000) Fourth, one might produce a non-miraculous explanation not addressed in the explanatory argument and argue that it is superior to the miraculous explanation (Venturini 1800; cf. O'Collins and Kendall 1996). Fifth, one might contest the implication that an explanation that is superior to its rivals in pairwise comparisons is actually more reasonable to believe than not. It is not difficult to imagine (or even to find) cases where one explanation is marginally better than any given rival but where the disjunction of the rival explanations is more believable. This final criticism applies only when the explanatory argument is categorical; but in that case, a further argument would be necessary to close off this line of criticism.

2.2.4 Probabilistic arguments

A fourth method of arguing for a miracle claim is to employ the machinery of Bayesian probability and argue that some fact or set of facts renders the conclusion probable (for a categorical argument) or significantly more probable than it was taken apart from those facts (for a confirmatory one). The argument could be cast in categorical form using the odds form of Bayes's Theorem. It is a simple consequence of Bayes's Theorem that, where '\(M\)' is the claim that a miracle has taken place and '\(E\)' is some evidence bearing on that claim, and where all of the relevant terms are defined,

\[ \frac{P(M\mid E)}{P({\sim}M\mid E)} = \frac{P(M)}{P({\sim}M)} \times \frac{P(E\mid M)}{P(E\mid {\sim}M)} \]

Verbally, this says that the posterior odds on \(M\) (that is, the ratio of the posterior probability of \(M\) to the posterior probability of its negation) equal the product of the prior odds and the Bayes factor. More colloquially, \(M\) becomes more plausible when we take into account evidence \(E\) that is more to be expected if \(M\) is true than if \(M\) is false. A categorical argument of this sort would involve plugging in values (either point-valued or interval-valued) for each term in this equation and concluding that \(P(M\mid E) \gt k\), where \(k\) is some constant with a value greater than or equal to 0.5. The evaluation of such an argument is likely to turn principally on the relative magnitudes of \(P(M)\) and \(P(E\mid {\sim}M)\), since in many contexts the disputants will grant that the other two probabilities that appear on the right side of the equation-\(P({\sim}M)\) and \(P(E\mid M)\)-are very close to 1. A confirmatory probabilistic argument might proceed from the same premises but dispense with the ratio of the priors, focusing on the fact that the ratio \(P(E\mid M)/P(E\mid {\sim}M)\) is top heavy.

The equation may give the impression that what is going on is rather arcane. In fact, the mathematics is simply a means of making explicit a common process of reasoning described well by Joseph Butler (1736/1819: 194):

[T]he truth of our religion, like the truth of common matters, is to be judged of by all the evidence taken together. And unless the whole series of things which may be alleged in this argument, and every particular thing in it, can reasonably be supposed to have been by accident (for here the stress of the argument for Christianity lies); then is the truth of it proved: in like manner, as if in any common case, numerous events acknowledged, were to be alleged in proof of any other event disputed; the truth of the disputed event would be proved, not only if any one of the acknowledged ones did of itself clearly imply it but, though no one of them singly did so, if the whole of the acknowledged events taken together could not in reason be supposed to have happened, unless the disputed one were true.

Allowing for the change in terminology over the centuries, Butler's description can be read as a verbal explication of the categorical form of the Bayesian argument. If the facts can be accounted for without difficulty on the supposition of \(M\) but not, without great implausibility, on the assumption of \({\sim}M\), then they provide significant evidence in favor of \(M\). On this reading, Butler is tacitly assuming that the prior probability of \(M\) is not so low as to overcome the cumulative force of the evidence in its favor.

Historically, probabilistic arguments for miracles have centered on the credibility of eyewitness testimony to the miraculous. Where \(T_i (M)\) stands for "Witness \(i\) testifies that \(M\)," we may write the relevant form of Bayes's Theorem as

\[\begin{align} &\frac{P(M\mid T_1 (M) \amp \ldots\amp T_n (M))}{P({\sim}M\mid T_1 (M) \amp \ldots \amp T_n (M))} = \\ &\qquad \frac{P(M)}{P({\sim}M)} \times \frac{P(T_1 (M) \amp \ldots \amp T_n (M)\mid M)}{P(T_1 (M) \amp \ldots \amp T_n (M)\mid {\sim}M)} \end{align}\]

If we assume that these testimonies are independent of each other relative both to \(M\) and to \({\sim}M\)-an assumption that should not be made casually (Kruskal 1988)-we can replace the final term on the right with the product

\[ \frac{P(T_1 (M)\mid M)}{P(T_1 (M)\mid {\sim}M)} \times \ldots \times \frac{P(T_n (M)\mid M)}{P(T_n (M)\mid {\sim}M)} \]

On the further simplifying assumption that all of the testimonies are of equal weight, this product reduces to

\[ \left[\frac{P(T_1 (M)\mid M)}{P(T_1 (M)\mid {\sim}M)}\right]^n \]

If \(P(T_1 (M)\mid M)/P(T_1 (M)\mid {\sim}M) \gt 1\), it follows at once that the claim, arguably attributable to Hume, that the evidence of testimony can never overcome the antecedent presumption against a miracle, is false. As Charles Babbage puts it:

[I]f independent witnesses can be found, who speak truth more frequently than falsehood, it is ALWAYS possible to assign a number of independent witnesses, the improbability of the falsehood of whose concurring testimony shall be greater than the improbability of the alleged miracle. (Babbage 1837: 202, emphasis original; cf. Holder 1998 and Earman 2000)

Ahmed (2015) argues that the anti-Humean argument leveled by Babbage (1837), Holder (1999), and Earman (2000) requires an assumption of the conditional independence of successive testimonies to the putative event, an assumption that is plausibly always violated both conditional on the assumption of its truth and conditional on the assumption of its falsehood. In the abstract to his article, Ahmed summarizes his point by saying that "even multiple reports from non-collusive witnesses lack the sort of independence that could make trouble for Hume." This enthusiastic promise is tempered, however, by Ahmed's recognition later in the same article that something very much like the same critique can be leveled granting that conditional independence fails in both cases, provided that the ratio of the likelihoods does not converge to 1 too quickly. So in his own summary, his arguments "do not after all realize the 'everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion' that Hume envisaged" (Ahmed 2015: 1042).

The evaluation of a serious cumulative argument for a particular miracle claim requires the consideration of historical details that go beyond the bounds of philosophy as a discipline (McGrew and McGrew 2009). But some general points regarding its structure are of philosophical interest. If the argument is categorical, then its conclusion is (at least) that, where "\(E\)" stands for the sum of the relevant evidence, \(P(M\mid E) \gt 0.5\). But where "\(G\)" stands for "God exists" (where "God" is conceived classically, as an eternal, personal being of maximal power, knowledge, and goodness who created the universe), it is generally acknowledged that \(P(M\mid G) \gg P(M\mid {\sim}G)\) and that either \(P(M\mid {\sim}G) = 0\) (if miracles are strictly the prerogative of God) or at least \(P(M\mid {\sim}G) \approx 0\). The evaluation of the claim that a miracle has occurred will therefore be sensitive to the probability of the claim that God exists, and the evaluation of the categorical form of the argument will therefore depend on the overall evaluation of the evidence of natural theology and of atheological arguments such as the problem of evil. By far the most sophisticated and elaborate development of such an argument is to be found in the work of Richard Swinburne (1970, 1977, 1979, 1992, 2003), who has pioneered the application of Bayesian probability to questions in the philosophy of religion and whose work spans the full range of natural theology.

The confirmatory form of the probabilistic argument is more modest; it aims to show that there is a considerable contribution to the argument for \(M\) arising from the facts indicated (McGrew and McGrew 2009). It has been objected (Oppy 2006: 5-6) that probabilistic arguments of this sort are of no interest unless they are founded on all of the relevant available evidence. But this objection would, if legitimate, count equally against the use of arguments from comparison of likelihoods in scientific reasoning, where they are ubiquitous. More cautiously, one might ask why an argument that places no definite restrictions on the probability of \(M\) should be of any interest. One answer would be that a successful confirmatory argument may shift the burden of proof. If there is a substantial body of evidence in favor of \(M\), it is incumbent on those who deny \(M\) to explain in some detail either (1) why the antecedent presumption against \(M\) should override this evidence or (2) what the other evidential considerations are that mitigate against \(M\).

Arguments against miracle claims, like arguments in their favor, come in a variety of forms, invoke diverse premises, and have distinct aims. We may distinguish general arguments, designed to show that all miracle claims are subject in principle to certain failings, from particular arguments, designed to show that, whatever may be the case in principle, such miracle claims as have historically been offered are inadequately supported.

General arguments against miracle claims fall into two broad classes: those designed to show that miracles are impossible, and those designed to show that miracle claims could never be believable.

3.1.1 Arguments that miracles are impossible

The boldest claim that could be made against reported miracles is that such events are impossible. Insofar as the definition of "miracle" in question is one that involves divine agency, any argument that demonstrated the non-existence of God would be eo ipso a demonstration that miracles do not take place; and an argument that demonstrated that the existence of God is impossible would demonstrate that miracles are likewise impossible. But the more common arguments for this conclusion are more modest; rather than setting out to show the existence of God to be impossible, they typically invoke theological premises to show that if there were a God, then miracles would not occur.

In chapter 6 of his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus, Baruch Spinoza sets out to argue for the claim that nature cannot be contravened, but that she "preserves a fixed and immutable course," in consequence of which a miracle is "a sheer absurdity" (Spinoza 1670/1862: 123, 128). His argument for this claim is somewhat difficult to follow, but it appears to run approximately like this:

1. The will of God is identical with the laws of nature.

2. A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature.

3. Necessarily, God's will is inviolable.

Therefore,

Miracles cannot happen.

Spinoza's argument is unlikely to persuade anyone who does not start out with his identification of the laws of nature with the will of God. From a more traditional theistic standpoint, the argument is simply an elaborate exercise in begging the question.

A non-theological version of this argument, sometimes mistakenly attributed to Hume, is actually due to Voltaire (1764/1901: 272):

A miracle is the violation of mathematical, divine, immutable, eternal laws. By the very exposition itself, a miracle is a contradiction in terms: a law cannot at the same time be immutable and violated.

The trouble with this crude argument is once again in the definition of "miracle," which here goes beyond a mere violation concept in adding immutability, which generates the contradiction. One retort that historically proved attractive is to accept the violation concept but deny that the laws of nature are immutable; instead the truly immutable laws are higher laws-laws that govern not only the behavior of physical entities but the interactions of physical and non-physical entities-and what appear to us to be violations of the laws of nature are really nothing less than instances of a higher law (Trench 1847:14-17; cf. Venn 1888: 433 ff).

A more subtle version of a theological objection can also be found in the entry "Miracles" in Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary (1764/1901: 273):

[I]t is impossible a being infinitely wise can have made laws to violate them. He could not ... derange the machine but with a view of making it work better; but it is evident that God, all-wise and omnipotent, originally made this immense machine, the universe, as good and perfect as He was able; if He saw that some imperfections would arise from the nature of matter, He provided for that in the beginning; and, accordingly, He will never change anything in it.

It is therefore impious to ascribe miracles to God; they would indicate a lack of forethought, or of power, or both.

This argument was popular during the deist controversy of the early and mid 18th century, and the orthodox response is summed up well by Paley (1859: 12): "[I]n what way can a revelation be made but by miracles? In none which we are able to conceive." Paley's point is not merely negative; rather, it is that only by setting up a universe with regularities that no mere human can abrogate and then suspending them could God, if there were a God, authenticate a revelation, stamping it with divine approval by an act of sovereignty. If there is a God who wishes to authenticate a communication to man in an unmistakable fashion, then, in Paley's view, an authenticating miracle is inevitable. It is therefore not at all impious to ascribe miracles to God, and they imply no limit either on His knowledge or on His power; they are both a sign of His approval and evidence of His benevolent foresight.

3.1.2 Arguments that miracle claims could never be rationally believed

The principal argument against the rational credibility of miracle claims derives from Hume. "A miracle," he writes,

is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined. (Hume 1748/2000: 86-87)

He ends the first Part of his essay "Of Miracles" with a general maxim:

The plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention), "That no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous, than the fact, which it endeavours to establish: And even in that case, there is a mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior only gives us an assurance suitable to that degree of force, which remains, after deducting the inferior."

The maxim itself is open to interpretive disputes. George Campbell (1762/1839) considers it to be trivial, a judgment with which Earman (2000) concurs. One simple way to arrive at it from a Bayesian point of view is to take the initial equation

\[ \frac{P(M\mid E)}{P({\sim}M\mid E)} = \frac{P(M)}{P({\sim}M)} \times \frac{P(E\mid M)}{P(E\mid {\sim}M)}, \]

where \(E\) is the proposed evidence for a miracle, and make the simplifying approximation that \(P(E\mid M) \approx P({\sim}M)\), since both terms are close to 1. Then the right side reduces to the ratio of the two remaining "small" terms, \(P(M)/P(E\mid {\sim}M)\), which will be a fair approximation of the posterior odds. Then the posterior probability of M will exceed 0.5 just in case \(P(M) \gt P(E\mid {\sim}M)\). This interpretation is endorsed by Holder (1998) but challenged by Millican (2002), who also surveys various other probabilistic interpretations of Hume's maxim.

Millican (2011) argues that many interpreters of Hume have overlooked a critical distinction between a type of testimony and a token of that testimony, where the latter is a particular instance of testimony asserting the occurrence of one particular event. Under the token interpretation, Millican grants, Hume's maxim would be trivial. But on the former interpretation, all testimony belongs to a type that has a characteristic or typical probability of falsehood. According to Millican, it is that typical probability that Hume has in view when constructing his maxim rather than the particular probability of falsehood of a specific piece of evidence.

Hume immediately illustrates this maxim by applying it to the case of testimony to a resurrection:

When anyone tells me, that he saw a dead man restored to life, I immediately consider with myself, whether it be more probable, that this person should either deceive or be deceived, or that the fact, which he relates, should really have happened. I weigh the one miracle against the other; and according to the superiority, which I discover, I pronounce my decision, and always reject the greater miracle. If the falsehood of his testimony would be more miraculous, than the event which he relates; then, and not till then, can he pretend to command my belief or opinion. (Hume 1748/2000: 87-88)

Is this an argument, or even an elliptical statement of one premise in an argument? And if so, what is its structure? The traditional interpretation has been that it is an argument from the nature of the case, the conclusion being that a miracle story could not be believed on testimony even under the most favorable circumstances. As far as we can tell, all of Hume's contemporaries, including John Leland (1755), William Adams (1767), Richard Price (1777), and George Campbell (1762/1839), read him this way. There is, however, considerable recent disagreement as to whether Hume intended Part 1 of his essay as an argument, disagreement that arises in part from the apprehension on the part of some of Hume's defenders that if it is an argument, it is not very good. The interpretive issues are too extensive to summarize; see Flew (1961), Levine (1989: 152), Johnson (1999), Earman (2000), Fogelin (2003), McGrew (2005), and Hájek (2008). But it is beyond contesting that some such argument, widely attributed to Hume, has been tremendously influential.

A very simple version of the argument, leaving out the comparison to the laws of nature and focusing on the alleged infirmities of testimony, can be laid out deductively (following Whately, in Paley 1859: 33):

1. Testimony is a kind of evidence very likely to be false.

2. The evidence for the Christian miracles is testimony.

Therefore,

The evidence for the Christian miracles is likely to be false.

This is, however, much too crude an argument to carry any weight, since it turns on a simple ambiguity between all testimony and some testimony. Whately offers an amusing parody that makes the fallacy obvious: Some books are mere trash; Hume's Works are [some] books; therefore, etc.

Another crude argument that focuses solely on the improbability of miracle claims (Ehrman 2003: 228-229) may be laid out thus:

1. A miracle is by definition the most improbable of events; the probability of a miracle is infinitesimally remote.

2. An historian can establish only what probably happened in the past.

Therefore,

An historian can never establish that a miracle happened.

Waiving the tendentious definition in premise 1, the supposed contradiction involved in denying the conclusion-"that the most improbable event is the most probable" (Ehrman 2003: 229)-is merely verbal, arising from a failure to distinguish between the probability of a miracle claim considered apart from the evidence and the probability of the claim given that evidence.

Flew (1966: 146; cf. Bradley 1874/1935) offers a more sophisticated criticism, arguing from the nature of historical inquiry that rational belief in miracles is precluded:

The basic propositions are: first, that the present relics of the past cannot be interpreted as historical evidence at all, unless we presume that the same fundamental regularities obtained then as still obtain today; second, that in trying as best he may to determine what actually happened the historian must employ as criteria all his present knowledge, or presumed knowledge, of what is probable or improbable, possible or impossible; and, third, that, since miracle has to be defined in terms of practical impossibility the application of these criteria inevitably precludes proof of a miracle.

The most obvious rejoinder here is that the believer in miracles does not generally believe that there are no dependable regularities in the physical world; it is in the nature of a miracle to be an exception to the ordinary course of nature. The feared undermining of the principles of historical inquiry is therefore an illusion generated by exaggerating the scale on which the order of nature would be disrupted were a miracle actually to occur.

An alternative reading of Hume, proposed by Dorothy Coleman (1988: 338-339), is that

an event that has no ready natural explanation is not necessarily an event that has no natural cause. To be a miracle, an event must be inexplicable not in terms of what appears to us to be the laws of nature but in terms of what laws of nature actually are.... [O]ne must ask if it is always more likely, i.e., conformable to experience, that those claiming the event to be a miracle are mistaken rather than that the event is a genuine violation of a law of nature. Counterinstances of what are taken to be natural laws are not by themselves evidence establishing that no natural law could possibly explain them: at most they provide grounds for revising our formulations of natural laws or seeking an improved understanding of the nature of the phenomena in question. At the very least they provide grounds for suspending judgments about the nature of their cause until more evidence is available. On the other hand, past experience shows that what are at one time considered violations of natural laws are frequently found at some later time not to be so. Proportioning belief to evidence, therefore, it is more reasonable to believe that the claim that an event is a miracle is mistaken than it is that the event is a violation of natural law.

There is not much to commend this line of argument as a reading of Hume; both the casual attitude toward our identification of the laws of nature and the willingness to grant the occurrence of the event jar with Hume's own presentation of his view. As Hajek (2008: 86-87) stresses, Hume is unambiguously arguing that we should disbelieve testimony to an event's occurrence, when that event really would be miraculous.

As an independent objection to belief in reported miracles, Coleman's argument has limited force. On a ceteris paribus conception of natural laws, apparent counterevidence to a putative law may, depending on circumstances, reduce the probability of the law only slightly, the majority of the impact of the evidence going to raise the probability that all else is not, in the present case, equal. There is no general principle that would license the conclusion that it is more reasonable to accept the falsehood of the putative law than to suppose the causal closure of nature to be violated. Everything depends on the details of specific cases.

A more faithful representation of Hume's reasoning brings back in the comparison between "two opposite experiences," reconstructing his argument along these lines:

1. The argument against a miracle, from the nature of the case, is as strong as any argument from experience could possibly be.

2. The argument for a miracle, from testimony, is at best a strong but somewhat weaker argument from experience.

3. In any case where two arguments from experience point to contradictory conclusions, the stronger argument must prevail.

4. A conclusion is credible only if the argument supporting it is not overcome by a stronger argument for a contradictory conclusion.

Therefore,

The argument for a miracle, from testimony, cannot even under the most favorable circumstances render belief in a miracle credible.

Hume's early critics objected vigorously to the claims embodied in the first two premises. Price (1777: 402; cf. Adams 1767: 10-11 and Paley 1859: 13-14) retorts against the claim in premise 1 that "a miracle is more properly an event different from experience than contrary to it." The presumptive case against the resurrection from universal testimony would be as strong as Hume supposes only if, per impossible, all mankind throughout all ages had been watching the tomb of Jesus on the morning of the third day and testified that nothing occurred. Even aside from the problems of time travel, there is not a single piece of direct testimonial evidence to Jesus' non-resurrection. Premise 1 is therefore a wild overstatement.

Adams (1767: 37) mounts an attack on premise 2 by drawing attention to the manner in which the lives of the apostles corroborate their testimony:

That men should love falshood rather than truth-that they should chuse labour and travail, shame and misery, before pleasure, ease, and esteem-is as much a violation of the laws of nature, as it is for lead or iron to hang unsupported in the air, or for the voice of a man to raise the dead to life: but this, I have granted to the author, is, not miraculous, but impossible, and shall therefore have his leave, I hope, to assert, that falshood, thus attested, is impossible-in other words, that testimony, thus tried and proved, is infallible and certain.

And he drives home the point by a quotation from Hume himself:

We cannot make use of a more convincing argument, than to prove that the actions ascribed to any person are directly contrary to the course of nature, and that no human motives, in such circumstances, could ever induce him to such a conduct. (Adams 1767: 48, quoting Hume 1748/2000: 65)

This argument, of course, proves at best only the sincerity of the witnesses. But in the present case, he goes on to argue, the nature of the facts attested precludes the possibility that the witnesses are themselves deceived (Adams 1767:37-38; cf. Jenkin 1708: 488-93).

Alan Hájek (2008: 88) offers a more detailed reconstruction of this argument. The first stage corresponds to the argument in "Of Miracles," Part I:

1. A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature.

2. A law of nature is, inter alia, a regularity to which no exception has previously been experienced.

Thus,

1. There is as compelling a 'proof' from experience as can possibly be imagined against a miracle.

2. In particular, the proof from experience in favour of testimony of any kind cannot be more compelling.

3. There is no other form of proof in favour of testimony.

Therefore,

The falsehood of the testimony to a miraculous event is always at least as probable as the event attested to (however good the testimony seems to be).

However,

Hume's balancing principle. The testimony should be believed if, and only if, the falsehood of the testimony is less probable than the event attested to.

Therefore, (by 7 and 8):

Conclusion 1. Testimony to a miraculous event should never be believed-belief in a miracle report could never be justified.

Hájek makes a strong case that this is a faithful reconstruction of Hume's reasoning. But as he goes on to point out, this argument is problematic at multiple points. The definition in 1 is at the least not forced upon us; and the inference from 1 and 2 to 3 overlooks the possibility that a regularity to which no exception has previously been experienced is also a regularity of which no instance has previously been experienced-a possibility that is countenanced on some major conceptions of laws-or that the law in question has not been instanced very often (Hájek 2008: 91). Hume might reply that, while this is theoretically possible, it does not hold in the cases of interest. But even granting that reply, Hájek points out that 5 may be questioned; and 6 is deeply problematic, since lack of analogy is at best an obscure reason for concluding that an event is maximally improbable. For if strength of analogy is a critical determinant in a rational agent's probability function, then he should be comparably skeptical regarding all spectacular scientific discoveries-"And that is absurd" (Hájek 2008: 103).

Larmer (2013) surveys a wide range of in-principle objections to justified belief in miracle claims in general and argues that all of them fail to deliver the promised conclusion.

Because the field of arguments for miracles is so wide, a consideration of all of the criticisms that have been leveled against particular arguments for miracles would fill many volumes. But four particular arguments raised by Hume are sufficiently well known to be of interest to philosophers.

In Part 2 of his essay "Of Miracles," Hume argues that there never was a miraculous event established on evidence so full as to amount to an "entire proof." The considerations Hume marshals in this section had, for the most part, been canvassed thoroughly during the deist controversy in the preceeding half century; Hume's credit in this Part is not that of originating the arguments but rather that of stating them clearly and forcefully.

3.2.1 The argument from inauspicious conditions

First, Hume lists a set of conditions that would, in his view, be necessary in order for an argument from testimony to have its full force, and he argues that no miracle report has ever met these conditions:

[T]here is not to be found, in all history, any miracle attested by a sufficient number of men, of such unquestioned good sense, education, and learning, as to secure us against all delusion in themselves; of such undoubted integrity, as to place them beyond all suspicion of any design to deceive others; of such credit and reputation in the eyes of mankind, as to have a great deal to lose in case of their being detected in any falsehood; and at the same time attesting facts, performed in such a public manner, and in so celebrated a part of the world, as to render the detection unavoidable: All which circumstances are requisite to give us a full assurance in the testimony of men. (Hume 1748/2000: 88)

Hume does not elaborate on these conditions, and it is difficult to say how he might have responded to Leland's charge that they are not necessary and would in some cases cut the other direction. For example, Leland argues that meeting the condition of "credit and reputation" would actually have weakened the evidence for the Christian miracles:

It might have been said with some shew of plausibility, that such persons by their knowledge and abilities, their reputation and interest, might have it in their power to countenance and propagate an imposture among the people, and give it some credit in the world. (Leland 1755: 90-91; cf. Beckett 1883: 29-37)

3.2.2 The argument from the passions of surprise and wonder

Thomas Morgan (1739: 31) raises a second charge in these words:

Men are the more easily imposed on in such Matters, as they love to gratify the Passion of Admiration, and take a great deal of Pleasure in hearing or telling of Wonders.

The implication is twofold: miracle stories are more likely than other falsehoods to be told, since they cater to a natural human desire to be amazed; and they are more likely than other falsehoods to be believed, since the same passions conduce to their uncritical reception. Hume, perhaps following Morgan, makes much the same point in nearly the same words. But he goes beyond Morgan in specifying a further exacerbating factor: the religious context of a miracle claim, he urges, makes the telling of a miracle story even more likely.

[I]f the spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and imagine he sees what has no reality: He may know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting so holy a cause: Or even where this delusion has not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force. (Hume 1748/2000: 89)

But as George Campbell points out (1762/1839: 48-49), this consideration cuts both ways; the religious nature of the claim may also operate to make it less readily received:

[T]he prejudice resulting from the religious affection, may just as readily obstruct as promote our faith in a religious miracle. What things in nature are more contrary, than one religion is to another religion? They are just as contrary as light and darkness, truth and error. The affections with which they are contemplated by the same person, are just as opposite as desire and aversion, love and hatred. The same religious zeal which gives the mind of a Christian a propensity to the belief of a miracle in support of Christianity, will inspire him with an aversion from the belief of a miracle in support of Mahometanism. The same principle which will make him acquiesce in evidence less than sufficient in one case, will make him require evidence more than sufficient in the other....

... [T]hat the evidence arising from miracles performed in proof of a doctrine disbelieved, and consequently hated before, did in fact surmount that obstacle, and conquer all the opposition arising thence, is a very strong presumption in favour of that evidence; just as strong a presumption in its favour, as it would have been against it, had all their former zeal, and principles, and prejudices, co-operated with the evidence, whatever it was, in gaining an entire assent.

Moreover, as Campbell (1762/1839: 49) immediately points out,

there is the greatest disparity in this respect, a disparity which deserves to be particularly attended to, betwixt the evidence of miracles performed in proof of a religion to be established, and incontradiction to opinions generally received; and the evidence of miracles performed in support of a religionalready established, and in confirmation of opinions generally received.

It is, therefore, a debatable question whether the consideration of the passions evoked by tales of the miraculous works for or against the miracle claim in any given instance. This is not an issue that can be settled in advance of a detailed consideration of the facts.

3.2.3 The argument from ignorance and barbarism

A third general argument is that miracle stories are most popular in backward cultures. As John Toland (1702: 148) puts it,

it is very observable, that the more ignorant and barbarous any People remain, you shall find 'em most abound with Tales of this nature ...

The unstated moral to be drawn is that both the production and the reception of miracle stories are due to a failure to understand the secondary causes lying behind phenomena, while increasing knowledge and culture leaves no room for such stories. Hume (2000: 90-91) also borrowed this line of reasoning.

But the supposed trajectory of societies from ignorant superstition to enlightened rationalism owes a good deal more to selective illustration than one would suspect from reading Toland and Hume. Campbell (1762/1839: 70) points out that in the Qur'an Mohammed made no claim to work public miracles, though by Toland's (and Hume's) reasoning the circumstances would have been most propitious for such tales. Coming forward in time, miracle stories abounded in the 18th century, as Hume well knew. And renowned scientists such as Isaac Newton and Robert Boyle were well known defenders of the Christian miracle claims. Other forces are at work in the creation and acceptance of miracle stories besides the relative level of civilization and education.

3.2.4 The argument from parity

As a fourth and final argument, Hume sketches some accounts of purported miracles outside of the canonical Christian scriptures-two cures ascribed to Vespasian, one Catholic miracle reported to have been worked at Saragossa, and some cures ascribed to the influence of the tomb of the Jansenist Abbe Paris in the early 1700s-and suggests that their affidavits are in various respects as good as one could wish for. Hume clearly expects his Protestant readers to reject these stories with disdain. He leaves unstated the obvious conclusion: by parity, his readers should also reject the miracles of the New Testament.

Setting Protestants and Catholics by the ears over the miracles of later ecclesiastical history was an old game by Hume's time, and a small industry had grown up on the Protestant side providing criteria for sifting the genuine apostolic miracles from their Catholic counterfeits (Leslie 1697/1815, Douglas 1757, Warfield 1918). Hume's contemporary critics rose to the challenge and argued vigorously that his descriptions of the alleged "miracles," Pagan, Catholic, and Jansenist, distorted the historical sources and were hopelessly one sided (Leland 1755: 102 ff, Adams 1767: 74 ff, Campbell 1762/1839: 96 ff, Douglas 1757: 96 ff).

Aside from these specific criticisms, one important general line of argument emerges in the criticisms, articulated well by Adams (1767: 73):

There is a wide difference betwixt establishing false miracles, by the help of a false religion, and establishing a false religion by the help of false miracles. Nothing is more easy than the former of these, or more difficult than the latter.

All attempts to draw an evidential parallel between the miracles of the New Testament and the miracle stories of later ecclesiastical history are therefore dubious. There are simply more resources for explaining how the ecclesiastical stories, which were promoted to an established and favorably disposed audience, could have arisen and been believed without there being any truth to the reports.

Hume's critique of the credibility of reported miracles provoked a tidal wave of responses, of which the most important are Adams (1767), Leland (1755), Douglas (1757), Price (1777), and Campbell (1762/1839). There is not yet anything approaching a comprehensive survey of these responses. For limited but still useful historical discussions of Hume and his influence, see Leland (1755: 47-135), Lechler (1841: 425 ff), Farrar (1862: 148 ff), Stephen (1876: 309 ff), Burns (1981: 131 ff), Craig (1985), Houston (1994: 49-82), Tweyman (1996), Earman (2000), and Beauchamp's introduction to the critical edition of Hume's Enquiry (Hume 1748/2000).

As Charles Sanders Peirce notes (Peirce 1958: 293), the Humean in-principle argument has left an indelible impression on modern biblical scholarship. Humean considerations are expressly invoked in the work of the great German critic David Friedrich Strauss (1879: 199-200), transformed into one of the "presuppositions of critical history" in the work of the philosopher F. H. Bradley (1874/1935), rechristened as the "principle of analogy" in the writings of the theologian Ernst Troeltsch (1913), and endorsed, explicitly or implicitly, in many contemporary studies of the historical Jesus (Dawes 2001: 97-106) and the New Testament (Ehrman 2003: 228-30). Commitment to something like Hume's position lies on one side of a deep conceptual fault line that runs through the discipline of biblical studies.

The Humean objection has also been vigorously contested as destructive not only of miracle stories but of common sense as well. The 19th century saw a proliferation of satires in which Humean scruples about accepting testimony for extraordinary tales were applied to the events of secular history, with consequences that are equally disastrous and humorous (Whately 1819/1874, Hudson 1857, Buel 1894). Whately's satire, which is the most famous, "establishes" on the basis of many historical improbabilities that Napoleon never existed but was a mythic figure invented by the British government to enhance national unity. Each of these satires makes the same point. One may legitimately require more evidence for a miracle story than for a mundane story (Sherlock 1729/1843: 55); but in exaggerating this sensible requirement into an insuperable epistemic barrier, Hume and his followers are applying a standard that cannot be applied without absurdity in any other field of historical investigation.

A curious feature of recent discussions is that Hume's critique of reported miracles has itself come under heavy fire and is now viewed in some quarters as requiring defense. For a range of views on the matter, see Levine (1989: 152 ff), who maintains that Part 1 contains an argument but that the argument is a failure, Johnson (1999), who argues that Part 1 is confused and unclear and that various attempts to clarify it have failed to elicit a compelling line of argument, Earman (2000), who argues that Part 1 is an "abject failure," Fogelin (2003), who aims to rehabilitate Hume against the critiques of Johnson and Earman in particular, and Millican (2013), who argues vigorously that the interpretation of Hume's argument offered in Earman (2000) is flawed in multiple ways. Millican (2011) offers a sympathetic reconstruction of Hume's critique in the wider context of Hume's other metaphysical and epistemological work.

Granting for the sake of argument that a reported miracle, in the sense of an event beyond the productive capacity of nature, has been established, what follows? Historically, many participants in the discussion have been ready to grant that, at least when the religious significance of the event is obvious and the doctrine or claim it ostensibly attests is not otherwise objectionable, the miracle must have been worked by God and that it provides significant confirmation for the doctrine or claim. Indeed, the enduring popularity of the argument from miracles underscores the truth of Butler's observation that miracles are one of the "direct and fundamental proofs" of Christianity (Butler 1736/1819: 173).

There are two exceptions to this general acquiescence in the evidential value of miracles. First, there is a question regarding the identity of the cause. If God alone can work miracles, this is easily settled; but this claim has been a point of contention in the theological literature, with some writers (Clarke 1719: 305 ff; Trench 1847) maintaining that lesser, created spirits may work miracles, while others (e.g. Farmer 1771, Wardlaw 1852, Cooper 1876) vigorously deny this. The point is of some interest to the evaluation of arguments for miracles, since as Baden Powell points out, there is a distinction

between an extraordinary fact,-which is a proper matter for humantestimony-and the belief in its beingcaused by Divine interposition, which is a matter ofopinion, and consequently not susceptible of support bytestimony, but dependent on quite other considerations. (Powell 1859: 287-88, following up on a distinction made in Less 1773: 260-62)

Powell is quite right to say that testimony is not the proper source for evidence of the supernatural nature of the event. But it does not follow that all opinions on the point are equally reasonable. The very description of the event-and even more, of the context in which it occurs-might render any naturalistic alternatives non-starters. Whether this is the case will depend, not on general considerations, but on the details of the case in question.

Second, it is occasionally argued that, contrary to what most philosophers and theologians have assumed, actual confirmed cases of miracles could not count in favor of the existence of God. George Chryssides (1975) argues that a miracle, conceived as a violation of a scientific law, could never be attributed to any agent, divine or otherwise, since the assignment of agency implies predictability. This bold contention has not attracted many defenders. Gregory Dawes (2009) pursues a related but more moderate line of argument, urging that it is difficult to meet the standard necessary to attribute particular events to the personal agency of God. But Dawes does not present this as an absolute barrier to theistic explanations.

Overall (1985) argues for the more radical contention that a miracle would count as evidence against the existence of God, on three grounds: (1) if order and harmony are evidence for the existence of God, then a miracle, which entails a breach in the order and harmony of the universe, must count against the existence of God; (2) the inevitable controversies over the identification and authentication of a miracle are an impediment to the growth of scientific knowledge and philosophical comprehension; and (3) an omnipotent God who does intervene in His creation would be obliged, on pain of moral defect, to intervene more often and more evenhandedly than He is supposed to have done in the Christian tradition.

These considerations have not, however, moved many philosophers to endorse Overall's position. Argument (1), besides giving a tendentious characterization of a miracle, exemplifies a fallacy in probabilistic reasoning, assuming that if \(F\) entails \({\sim}E\) and \(E\) is evidence for \(H\), then \(F\) is evidence against \(H\), which is not in general true. Claim (2) is arguably simply false, as such controversies do not appear noticeably to have impeded the progress of science or philosophy. Argument (3) will be effective against a certain sort of theological position, but it is not one that many believers in miracles actually hold. For further discussion of this issue, see the exchanges between Larmer and Overall (Larmer 1988: 75-82, Overall 1997, Overall 2003, and Larmer 2004).

In the final analysis, the relevance of background beliefs looms large. To say this is not to endorse a lazy and unprincipled relativism; rather, the point is that one's considered rational judgment regarding the existence and nature of God must take into account far more than the evidence for miracle claims. That is not to say that they could not be an important or even, under certain circumstances, a decisive piece of evidence; it is simply that neither a positive nor a negative claim regarding the existence of God can be established on the basis of evidence for a miracle claim alone, without any consideration of other aspects of the question.

For the evidence for a miracle claim, being public and empirical, is never strictly demonstrative, either as to the fact of the event or as to the supernatural cause of the event. It remains possible, though the facts in the case may in principle render it wildly improbable, that the testifier is either a deceiver or himself deceived; and so long as those possibilities exist, there will be logical space for other forms of evidence to bear on the conclusion. Arguments about miracles therefore take their place as one piece-a fascinating piece-in a larger and more important puzzle.

Ahmed, Arif, 2015, "Hume and the Independent Witnesses," Mind, 124: 1013-1044.

Aquinas, St. Thomas, Summa Contra Gentiles (SCG), [Available online, translation by J. Rickaby, London: Burns and Oates, 1905].

---, Summa Theologiae (ST), [Available online, translated by the Fathers of the English, inThe Catholic Encyclopedia].

Adams, William, 1767, An Essay in Answer to Mr. Hume's Essay on Miracles, 3rd ed., London: B. White.

Babbage, Charles, 1837, The Ninth Bridgewater Treatise, London: John Murray.

Basinger, David, 2018, Miracles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Basinger, David, and Basinger, Randall, 1986, Philosophy and Miracle: The Contemporary Debate, Lewiston, ID: Edwin Mellen Press.

Beard, John Relly, 1845, Voices of the Church, London: Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.

Beckett, Edmund, 1883, A Review of Hume and Huxley on Miracles, New York: E. & J. B. Young & Co.

Berkeley, George, 1732, Alciphron, in George Sampson, ed.,The Works of George Berkeley, D. D., Bishop of Cloyne, vol. 2, London, George Bell and Sons, 1898.

Bradley, Francis Herbert, 1874, "The Presuppositions of Critical History," in Collected Essays, vol. 1, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1935.

Brown, Colin, 1984, Miracles and the Critical Mind, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

Brown, Thomas, 1822, Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect. Andover: Mark Newman.

Buel, Oliver Price, 1894, The Abraham Lincoln Myth, New York: The Mascot Publishing Co.

Burns, Robert M, 1981, The Great Debate on Miracles from Joseph Glanvill to David Hume, London and Toronto: Associated University Presses.

Butler, Joseph, 1736, The Analogy of Religion, Hartford: Samuel G. Goodrich, 1819.

Campbell, George, 1762, A Dissertation on Miracles, London: Thomas Tegg, 1839.

Chryssides, George, 1977, "Miracles and Agents," Religious Studies, 13: 319-327.

Clarke, Samuel, 1719, A Discourse Concerning the Being and Attributes of God, 5th ed., London: James Knapton.

Coleman, Dorothy P., 1988, "Hume, Miracles and Lotteries," Hume Studies, 14: 328-346.

Cooper, Thomas, 1876, The Verity and Value of the Miracles of Christ, London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Copan, Paul (ed.), 1998, Will the Real Jesus Please Stand Up? Grand Rapids: Baker Books.

Copan, Paul, and Tacelli, Ronald (eds.), 2000, Jesus' Resurrection: Fact or Figment? Downer's Grove, IL: InterVarsity.

Craig, William Lane, 2002, Assessing the New Testament Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus, Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press.

---, 1985, The Historical Argument for the Resurrection of Jesus During the Deist Controversy, Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press.

---, 1986, "The Problem of Miracles: A Historical and Philosophical Perspective," in David Wenham and Craig Blomberg, eds., Gospel Perspectives VI. Sheffield, England: JSOT Press, pp. 9-40.

---, 2008, Reasonable Faith, 3rd ed., Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books.

Dawes, Gregory, 2001, The Historical Jesus Question, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press.

---, 2009, Theism and Explanation, New York: Routledge.

Dawid, Philip and Gillies, Donald, 1989, "A Bayesian Analysis of Hume's Argument Concerning Miracles," Philosophical Quarterly, 39: 57-65.

Douglas, John, 1757, The Criterion, London: A. Millar.

Dulles, Avery, 1971, A History of Apologetics, Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 1999.

Earman, John, 2000, Hume's Abject Failure, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ehrman, Bart D., 2003, The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings, 3rd ed., New York: Oxford University Press.

Farmer, Hugh, 1771, A Dissertation on Miracles, London: T. Cadell.

Flew, Antony, 1961, Hume's Philosophy of Belief, New York: Humanities Press.

---, 1966, God and Philosophy, London: Hutchinson.

---, 1967, "Miracles," Encyclopedia of Philosophy, vol. 5, New York: Macmillan and Free Press, pp. 346-353.

Fogelin, Robert, 2003, A Defense of Hume on Miracles, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Garrett, Don, 2002, "Hume on Testimony Concerning Miracles," in Peter Millican (ed.), Reading Hume on Human Understanding: Essays on the First Enquiry, Oxford: Clarendon Press, pp. 301-334.

Greenleaf, Simon, 1847, An Examination of the Testimony of the Four Evangelists, by the Rules of Evidence Administered in Courts of Justice, 2nd ed., London: A. Maxwell & Son.

Habermas, Gary, 1996, The Historical Jesus. Joplin: College Press.

Hájek, Alan, 1995, "In Defense of Hume's Balancing of Probabilities in the Miracle Argument," Southwest Philosophy Review, 11: 111-118.

---, 2008, "Are Miracles Chimerical?" In Jonathan Kvanvig, ed., Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Religion (Volume 1), Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 82-104.

Helm, Paul, 1991, "The Miraculous," in Science and Christian Belief, 3: 83-95.

Hesse, Mary, 1965, "Miracles and the Laws of Nature," in C. F. D. Moule (ed.), Miracles: Cambridge Studies in their Philosophy and History, London: A. R. Mowbray & Co., pp. 33-42.

Holder, Rodney, 1998, "Hume on Miracles: Bayesian Interpretation, Multiple Testimony, and the Existence of God," British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, 49: 49-65.

Houston, Joseph, 1994, Reported Miracles: A Critique of Hume, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hudson, Charles, 1857, Doubts Concerning the Battle of Bunker's Hill, Boston and Cambridge: James Munroe and Co.

Hume, David, 1748 et seq., An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, Tom L. Beauchamp (ed.), New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.

Huxley, Thomas Henry, 1894, Hume: with Helps to the Study of Berkeley, London: Macmillan and Co.

Jenkin, Robert, 1708, The Reasonableness and Certainty of the Christian Religion, 2nd ed., vol. 2, London: Richard Sare.

Johnson, David, 1999, Hume, Holism, and Miracles, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Joyce, George Hayward, 1914, The Question of Miracles, St. Louis: B. Herder.

Keener, Craig, 2011, Miracles: The Credibility of the New Testament Accounts, 2 vols., Grand Rapids: Baker.

Kruskal, William, 1988, "Miracles and Statistics: the Casual Assumption of Independence," Journal of the American Statistical Association, 83: 929-940.

Langtry, Bruce, 1985, "Miracles and Principles of Relative Likelihood," International Journal for Philosophy of Religion, 18: 123-131.

---, 1990, "Hume, Probability, Lotteries and Miracles," Hume Studies, 16: 67-74.

Larmer, Robert, 1988, Water Into Wine? An Investigation of the Concept of Miracle, Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press.

---, 2004, "Miracles and Overall: An Apology for Atheism?" Dialogue, 43: 555-568.

---, 2013, The Legitimacy of Miracle, Lanham, MD: Lexington Books.

Leland, John, 1755, A View of the Principal Deistical Writers, vol. 2, London: B. Dod.

Leslie, Charles, 1697, A Short and Easy Method with the Deists, London: F. C. and J. Rivington, 1815.

Less, Gottfried, 1773, Wahrheit der christlichen Religion, Gšttingen & Bremen: Georg Ludewig Fšrster.

Levine, Michael, 1989, Hume and the Problem of Miracles: A Solution, Dordrecht: Kluwer Publishers.

---, 1998, "Bayesian Analyses of Hume's Argument concerning Miracles," Philosophy and Theology, 10(1): 101-106.

---, 2002, "Review of John Earman, Hume's Abject Failure: The Argument Against Miracles," Hume Studies, 28(1): 161-167.

Lewis, C. S., 1947, Miracles, New York: Macmillan.

Lias, John James, 1883, Are Miracles Credible?, London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Locke, John, 1706, A Discourse of Miracles, In Ian T. Ramsey, ed.,The Reasonableness of Christianity, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1958, pp. 78-87.

Mackie, J. L., 1982, The Miracle of Theism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

McGrew, Timothy, 2005, "Review of Robert Fogelin, A Defense of Hume on Miracles," Mind, 114: 145-149.

McGrew, Timothy & Lydia, 2009, "The Argument from Miracles," in William Lane Craig and J. P. Moreland, eds., The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, New York: Blackwell, pp. 593-662.

Millican, Peter, 2002, Reading Hume on Human Understanding, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 2011, "Twenty Questions about Hume's 'Of Miracles'," in Anthony O'Hear (ed.), Philosophy and Religion (Royal Institute of Philosophy Supplement 68), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 151-92.

---, 2013, "Earman on Hume on Miracles," in Stewart Duncan and Antonia LoLordo (eds.), Debates in Modern Philosophy: Essential Readings and Contemporary Responses, New York: Routledge, pp. 271-84.

Montgomery, John Warwick, 1978, "Science, Theology, and the Miraculous," Journal of the American Scientific Association, 30: 145-153.

Morgan, Thomas, 1739, The Moral Philosopher, vol. 2, London: Printed for the author.

Mozely, James Bowling, 1865, Eight Lectures on Miracles. London: Rivingtons.

O'Collins, Gerald, and David Kendall, 1996, "Reissuing Venturini," in O'Collins and Kendall (eds.), Focus on Jesus: Essays in Soteriology and Christology, Herefordshire: Fowler Wright Books, pp. 153-75.

Oppy, Graham, 2006, Arguing about Gods, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Overall, Christine, 1985, "Miracles as Evidence Against the Existence of God," The Southern Journal of Philosophy, 23: 47-53.

---, 1997, "Miracles and God: A Reply to Robert H. Larmer," Dialogue, 36: 741-752.

---, 2003, "Miracles and Larmer," Dialogue, 42: 123-135.

Owen, David, 1987, "Hume versus Price on Miracles and Prior Probabilities: Testimony and the Bayesian Calculation," Philosophical Quarterly, 37: 187-202.

Paley, William, 1794, A View of the Evidences of Christianity, London: John W. Parker and Son, 1859.

Peirce, Charles S., 1958, Values in a Universe of Chance: Selected Writings of Charles S. Peirce, Philip P. Wiener (ed.), New York: Doubleday Anchor.

Powell, Baden, 1859, The Order of Nature: Considered in Reference to the Claims of Revelation, London: Longman, Brown, Green, Longmans, & Roberts.

Price, Richard, 1777, Four Dissertations, 4th ed., London: T. Cadell.

Russell, Paul, 2008, "Hume on Religion," Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2008 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2008/entries/hume-religion/>.

Schlesinger, George, 1987, "Miracles and Probabilities," Noûs, 21: 219-232.

---, 1991, "The Credibility of Extraordinary Events," Analysis, 51: 120-126.

Sherlock, Thomas, 1729, The Trial of the Witnesses of the Resurrection of Jesus, Philadelphia: Presbyterian Board of Publication, n.d. [1843].

Sobel, Jordan Howard, 1987, "On the Evidence of Testimony for Miracles: A Bayesian Interpretation of Hume's Analysis," Philosophical Quarterly, 37: 166-186.

---, 1991, "Hume's Theorem on Testimony Sufficient to Establish a Miracle," Philosophical Quarterly, 41: 229-237.

---, 2004, Logic and Theism: Arguments for and Against Beliefs in God, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Sober, Elliott, 2004, "A Modest Proposal," Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 68: 487-494.

Spinoza, Baruch, 1670, Tractatus Theologico-Politicus. London: Trübner and Co., 1862.

Starkie, Thomas, 1876, A Practical Treatise on the Law of Evidence, 10th ed., Philadelphia: T. & J. W. Johnson & Co.

Stephen, Leslie, 1876, History of English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, vol. 1, London: Smith, Elder, & Co.

Stewart, M.A., 1995, "Hume's Historical View of Miracles," in Hume and Hume's Connexions, M.A. Stewart (ed.), University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press.

Strauss, David Friedrich, 1879, A New Life of Jesus, 2nd edition, Volume 1, London: Williams and Norgate.

Swinburne, Richard, 1970, The Concept of a Miracle, London: Macmillan and Co.

---, 1977, The Coherence of Theism, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 1979, The Existence of God, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

--- (ed.), 1989, Miracles, New York: Macmillan.

---, 1993, Revelation: From Metaphor to Analogy, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 2003, The Resurrection of God Incarnate, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Taylor, James E., 2007, "Hume on Miracles: Interpretation and Criticism," Philosophy Compass, 2(4): 611-624,available online.

Toland, John, 1702, Christianity Not Mysterious, London: n.p.

Trench, Richard Chenevix, 1847, Notes on the Miracles of Our Lord, 2nd ed., London: John W. Parker.

Troeltsch, Ernst, 1913, "Über historische und dogmatische Methode in der Theologie," in Gesammelte Schriften (Volume 2), Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, pp. 729-753.

Tucker, Aviezer, 2005, "Miracles, Historical Testimonies, and Probabilities," History and Theory, 44: 373-390.

Twelftree, Graham H. (ed.), 2009, The Cambridge Companion to Miracles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

--- (ed.), 2017, The Nature Miracles of Jesus: Problems, Perspectives, and Prospects, Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock.

Tweyman, Stanley (ed.), 1996, Hume on Miracles, Bristol, Thoemmes Press.

Venn, John, 1888, The Logic of Chance, 3rd ed., London: Macmillan and Co.

Venturini, Karl, 1800, Natürliche Geschichte des grossen Propheten von Nazareth, Copenhagen.

Voltaire, 1764, Philosophical Dictionary, in The Works of Voltaire, vol. 11, New York: E. R. DuMont, 1901.

Wardlaw, Ralph, 1852, On Miracles, Edinburgh: A. Fullarton and Co.

Warfield, Benjamin, 1918, Counterfeit Miracles, New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.

Whately, Richard, 1819, Historic Doubts Relative to Napoleon Bonaparte, Andover: Warren F. Draper, 1874.

---, 1826, Elements of Logic, London: Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyer, 1870.

Zabell, Sandy, 1988, "The Probabilistic Analysis of Testimony," Journal of Statistical Planning and Inference, 20: 327-354.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The philosophical discussion of miracles has focused principally on the credibility of certain claims in the Jewish and Christian scriptures. But inquiry into the credibility of specific miracle claims inevitably raises questions regarding the concept of a miracle, and arguments regarding particular claims cannot be evaluated until the nature of that concept has been at least reasonably clarified.

# data[].attributes.headline
9.1 A Brief History of Modern Philosophy

# data[].attributes.subject
9.1 A Brief History of Modern Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
A documentary on the history of philosophy, specifically how modern philosophy evolved through time.

# data[].attributes.body
A comprehensive introduction to Hume's philosophy, account of mind, causation, necessary connections, moral philosophy and philosophy of religion.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
David Hume's Philosophy - Bryan Magee & John Passmore (1987)

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores Hume's contributions to philosophy as a sceptic and empiricist, and how that influenced his works on moral philosophy, and the philosophy of religion.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Life and Works

Born in Edinburgh, Hume spent his childhood at Ninewells, his family's modest estate in the border lowlands. He came from a "good family" (MOL 2)-socially well connected but not wealthy. His father died just after David's second birthday, leaving him and his elder brother and sister in

the care of our Mother, a woman of singular Merit, who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating of her Children. (MOL 3)

Katherine Falconer Hume realized that David was uncommonly precocious, so when his older brother went up to Edinburgh University, Hume went with him, although he was only 10 or 11. There he studied Latin and Greek, read widely in history and literature, ancient and modern philosophy, and also did some mathematics and natural philosophy-what we now call natural science.

The education David received, both at home and at the university, aimed at training pupils to a life of virtue regulated by stern Scottish Calvinist strictures. Prayers and sermons were prominent aspects of his home and university life. At some point, Hume read The Whole Duty of Man, a widely circulated Anglican devotional tract that details our duties to God, our fellow human beings, and ourselves.

Hume's family thought him suited for a legal career, but he found the law "nauseous", preferring to read classical texts, especially Cicero. He decided to become a "Scholar and Philosopher", and followed a rigorous program of reading and reflection for three years until "there seem'd to be open'd up to me a new Scene of Thought" (HL 3.2). The intensity of developing his philosophical vision precipitated a psychological crisis in the isolated scholar.

The crisis eventually passed, and Hume remained intent on articulating his "new Scene of Thought". As a second son, his inheritance was meager, so he moved to France, where he could live cheaply, and finally settled in La Flèche, a sleepy village in Anjou best known for its Jesuit college where Descartes and Mersenne had studied a century before. Here he read French and other continental authors, especially Malebranche, Dubos, and Bayle, and occasionally baited the Jesuits with arguments attacking their beliefs. By this time, Hume had not only rejected the religious beliefs with which he was raised, but was also opposed to organized religion in general, an opposition that remained constant throughout his life. In 1734, when he was only 23, he began writing A Treatise of Human Nature.

Hume returned to England in 1737 to ready the Treatise for the press. To curry favor with Joseph Butler (1692-1752), he "castrated" his manuscript, deleting his controversial discussion of miracles, along with other "nobler parts" (HL 6.2). Book I, "Of the Understanding", and Book II, "Of the Passions", appeared anonymously in 1739. The next year saw the publication of Book III, "Of Morals", as well as his anonymous "Abstract" of Books I and II.

The Treatise was no literary sensation, but it didn't fall "deadborn from the press" (MOL 6), as Hume disappointedly described its reception. Despite his surgical deletions, it attracted enough of "a Murmour among the Zealots" (MOL 6) to fuel his lifelong reputation as an atheist and a sceptic. When he applied for the Chair of Ethics and Pneumatical ("Mental") Philosophy at Edinburgh in 1745, his reputation provoked vocal and ultimately successful opposition. Six years later, he stood for the Chair of Logic at Glasgow, only to be turned down again. Hume never held an academic post.

In 1745, he accepted a position as a young nobleman's tutor, only to discover that his charge was insane. A year later he became secretary to his cousin, Lieutenant General James St Clair, eventually accompanying him on an extended diplomatic mission in Austria and Italy.

In 1748, An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding appeared, covering the central ideas of Book I of the Treatise and his discussion of liberty and necessity from Book II. He also included material he had excised from the Treatise. In 1751, he published An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, a "recasting" of Book III of the Treatise, which he described as "incomparably the best" of all his work (MOL 10). More essays, the Political Discourses, appeared in 1752, and Hume's correspondence reveals that a draft of the Dialogues concerning Natural Religion was also underway at this time.

An offer to serve as Librarian to the Edinburgh Faculty of Advocates gave Hume the opportunity to begin another project, a History of England, using the law library's excellent resources. Published in six volumes between 1754 and 1762, his History was a bestseller well into the next century, giving him the financial independence he had long sought. But even as a librarian, Hume's reputation as an atheist and sceptic dogged him. One of his orders for "indecent Books" prompted an unsuccessful move for his dismissal and excommunication from the Kirk. Friends and publishers persuaded him to suppress some of his more controversial writings on religion during his lifetime.

In 1763, Hume accepted a position as private secretary to the British Ambassador to France. During his three-year stay in Paris, he became Secretary to the Embassy, and eventually its chargé d'affaires. He became the rage of the Parisian salons, enjoying the conversation and company of famous European intellectuals. He was known for his love of good food and wine, as well as his enjoyment of the attentions and affections of women.

In 1775, Hume was diagnosed with intestinal cancer. Before his death in 1776, he arranged for the posthumous publication of his most controversial work, the Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, and composed a brief autobiography, "My Own Life". Although there was much curiosity about how "the great infidel" would face his death, his friends agreed that he prepared himself with the same peaceful cheer that characterized his life.

2. The relation between the Treatise and the Enquiries

3. Philosophical Project

As the title of the Treatise proclaims, Hume's subject is human nature. He summarizes his project in its subtitle: "an attempt to introduce the experimental method into moral subjects". In his day, "moral" meant anything concerned with human nature, not just ethics, as he makes clear at the beginning of the first Enquiry, where he defines "moral philosophy" as "the science of human nature" (EHU 1.1/5). Hume's aim is to bring the scientific method to bear on the study of human nature.

Hume's early studies of philosophical "systems" convinced him that philosophy was in a sorry state and in dire need of reform. When he was only 18 years old, he complained in a letter that anyone familiar with philosophy realizes that it is embroiled in "endless Disputes" (HL 3.2). The ancient philosophers, on whom he had been concentrating, replicated the errors their natural philosophers made. They advanced theories that were "entirely Hypothetical", depending "more upon Invention than Experience". He objects that they consulted their imagination in constructing their views about virtue and happiness, "without regarding human Nature, upon which every moral Conclusion must depend". The youthful Hume resolved to avoid these mistakes in his own work, by making human nature his "principal Study, & the Source from which I would derive every Truth" (HL 3.6).

Even at this early stage, the roots of Hume's mature approach to the reform of philosophy are evident. He was convinced that the only way to improve philosophy was to make the investigation of human nature central-and empirical (HL 3.2). The problem with ancient philosophy was its reliance on "hypotheses"-claims based on speculation and invention rather than experience and observation.

By the time Hume began to write the Treatise three years later, he had immersed himself in the works of the modern philosophers, but found them disturbing, not least because they made the same mistakes the ancients did, while professing to avoid them. Why, Hume asks, haven't philosophers been able to make the spectacular progress in understanding human nature that natural philosophers-whom we now call "scientists"-have recently achieved in the physical sciences? His answer is that while scientists have cured themselves of their "passion for hypotheses and systems", philosophers haven't yet purged themselves of this temptation. Their theories were too speculative, relied on a priori assumptions, and paid too little attention to what human nature is actually like. Instead of helping us understand ourselves, modern philosophers were mired in interminable disputes-evident even to "the rabble without doors"-giving rise to "the common prejudice against metaphysical reasonings of all kinds", that is, "every kind of argument which is in any way abstruse, and requires some attention to be comprehended" (T xiv.3).

To make progress, Hume maintains, we need to "reject every system ... however subtle or ingenious, which is not founded on fact and observation". These systems, covering a wide range of entrenched and influential metaphysical and theological views, purport to have discovered principles that give us a deeper and more certain knowledge of ultimate reality. But Hume argues that in attempting to go beyond anything we can possibly experience, these metaphysical theories try to "penetrate into subjects utterly inaccessible to the understanding" (EHU 1.11/11), which makes their claims to have found the "ultimate principles" of human nature not just false, but unintelligible. These "airy sciences", as Hume calls them, have only the "air" of science (EHU 1.12/12).

Worse still, these metaphysical systems are smokescreens for "popular superstitions" that attempt to overwhelm us with religious fears and prejudices (EHU 1.11/11). Hume has in mind a variety of doctrines that need metaphysical cover to look respectable-arguments for the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, and the nature of God's particular providence. Metaphysics aids and abets these and other superstitious doctrines.

But he insists that because these metaphysical and theological systems are objectionable, it doesn't mean we should give up doing philosophy. Instead, we need to appreciate "the necessity of carrying the war into the most secret recesses of the enemy". The only way to resist the allure of these pseudo-sciences is to engage with them, countering their "abstruse ... metaphysical jargon" with "accurate and just reasoning" (EHU 1.12/12).

This means that the initial phase of Hume's project must be critical. A prominent part of this aspect of his project is to "discover the proper province of human reason"-determining the extent and limits of reason's powers and capacities (EHU 1.12/12). He believes that his investigation will show that metaphysics as the quest for understanding the ultimate nature of reality is beyond reason's scope.

Scholars once emphasized this critical phase at the expense of the rest of Hume's project, encouraging the charge that he was just a negative skeptic, who rejects the views of others without defending any positive position himself. But while he is indeed skeptical about the possibility of metaphysical insights that go deeper than science can, investigating the proper province of reason isn't only a critical activity. His critique of metaphysics clears the way for the constructive phase of his project-the development of an empirical science of human nature-and Hume is not at all skeptical about its prospects.

In his "Introduction" to the Treatise, Hume launches the constructive phase of his project by proposing nothing less than "a compleat system of the sciences, built on a foundation entirely new" (T xvi.6). The new foundation is the scientific study of human nature. He argues that all the sciences have some relation to human nature, "even Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and Natural Religion" (T xv.4). They are all human activities, so what we are able to accomplish in them depends on understanding what kinds of questions we are able to handle and what sorts we must leave alone. If we have a better grasp of the scope and limits of our understanding, the nature of our ideas, and the operations we perform in reasoning about them, there is no telling what improvements we might make in these sciences.

We should expect even more improvement in the sciences that are more closely connected to the study of human nature: " Logic, Morals, Criticism, and Politics ". Many longstanding philosophical debates are about the nature of our ideas-causation, liberty, virtue and beauty-so getting clear about their content should help us cut through these "endless disputes".

As the science of human nature is the only solid foundation for the other sciences, "the only solid foundation we can give to this science itself must be laid on experience and observation" (T xvi.7). Although Hume does not mention him by name, Newton (1642-1727) is his hero. He accepts the Newtonian maxim " Hypotheses non fingo ", roughly, "I do not do hypotheses". Any laws we discover must be established by observation and experiment.

Hume, however, wants to go much further. He wants to explain how the mind works by discovering its "secret springs and principles". He reminds us that astronomers, for a long time, were content with proving the "motions, order, and magnitude of the heavenly bodies". But then "a philosopher"-Newton-went beyond them and determined "the laws and forces, by which the revolutions of the planets are governed and directed" (EHU 1.15/14). Newton's example led other natural philosophers to similar explanatory successes. Hume believes he will be equally successful in finding the fundamental laws governing our "mental powers and economy", if he follows the same caution Newton exhibited in carrying out his inquiries.

Newton's scientific method provides Hume with a template for introducing the experimental method into his investigation of the mind. In An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, he says he will follow "a very simple method" that he believes will bring about a transformation in the study of human nature. Following Newton's example, he argues that we should "reject every system ... however subtile or ingenious, which is not founded on fact and observation", and accept only arguments derived from experience. When we inquire about human nature, since we are asking "a question of fact, not of abstract science", we must rely on experience and observation (EPM 1.10/173-174).

As the fledgling Newton of the moral sciences, Hume wants to find a set of laws that explain how the mind's contents- perceptions, as he calls them-come and go in the mind and how simple perceptions combine to form complex perceptions in ways that explain human thought, belief, feeling and action.

Newton's achievement was that he was able to explain diverse and complex physical phenomena in terms of a few general principles. Like him, Hume proposes to explain "all effects from the simplest and fewest causes" (T xvii.8). He predicts that it is likely that one "principle of the mind depends on another" and that this principle may in turn be brought under another principle even "more general and universal" (EHU 1.15/15). But he emphasizes that while he will try to find the most general principles, rendering them as universal as possible, all of his explanations must be based completely on experience.

Although philosophy, as an empirical enterprise, is itself bound by experience, this is not a defect in the science of human nature. The same is true for all the sciences: "None of them can go beyond experience, or establish any principles which are not founded on that authority" (T Intro 10). Explanations must come to an end somewhere. When we see that we have "arriv'd at the utmost extent of human reason, we sit down contented", for the only reason we can give for our most general principles is "our experience of their reality" (T 9).

Hume is Newtonian in much more than method. He sees that Newton is significantly different from John Locke (1632-1704) and the other Royal Society natural philosophers, because he rejects their mechanist picture of the world. Newton's greatest discovery, the Law of Gravitation, is not a mechanical law. Hume explicitly models his account of the fundamental principles of the mind's operations-the principles of association-on the idea of gravitational attraction. By appealing to these same principles throughout, Hume gives an explanation of these diverse phenomena that enable him to provide a unified and economical account of the mind.

4. Account of the Mind

To explain the workings of our minds with the economy Newton displayed in his physics, Hume introduces the minimal amount of machinery he thinks is necessary to account for the mind's operations. Each piece is warranted by experience.

Impressions include sensations as well as desires, passions, and emotions. Ideas are "the faint images of these in thinking and reasoning" (T 1.1.1.1/1). He thinks everyone will recognize his distinction, since everyone is aware of the difference between feeling and thinking. It is the difference between feeling the pain of your present sunburn and recalling last year's sunburn.

Perceptions-both impressions and ideas-may be either simple or complex. Complex impressions are made up of a group of simple impressions. My impression of the violet I just picked is complex. Among the ways it affects my senses are its brilliant purple color and its sweet smell. I can separate and distinguish its color and smell from the rest of my impressions of the violet. Its color and smell are simple impressions, which can't be broken down further because they have no component parts.

When Hume distinguishes impressions and ideas in terms of their relative force and vivacity, he is pointing out something that is generally true of them as a matter of fact. On occasion, in dreams or a high fever, ideas may approach the force and vivacity of impressions, but these are exceptions that prove the-empirical-rule. In general, impressions and ideas are so different that no one can deny the distinction.

Although nothing seems freer than the power of thought, which isn't "restrained within the limits of nature and reality" (EHU 2.4/18), Hume insists that our imagination is in fact "confined within very narrow limits". We can separate and combine our ideas in new and even bizarre ways, imagining creatures we've never seen or faraway galaxies, but all the materials of thinking are ultimately derived from our impressions. Since "all our ideas or more feeble perceptions are copies of our impressions or more lively ones"; we are restricted to "compounding, transporting, augmenting, or diminishing the materials afforded us by the senses and experience" (EHU 2.5/19).

4.1 The Copy Principle

All our simple ideas in their first appearance are deriv'd from simple impressions, which are correspondent to them, and which they exactly represent. (T 1.1.1.7/4)

He presents the principle as something that everyone's experience confirms, but he also gives an argument to establish it.

He argues first that there is a one-to-one correspondence between simple ideas and simple impressions. He can't prove that this correspondence holds universally, since he can't examine every individual impression and idea. But he is so confident the correspondence holds that he challenges anyone who doubts it to produce an example of a simple impression without a corresponding simple idea, or a simple idea without a corresponding simple impression. Since he is certain they will fail, he concludes that there is a constant conjunction between simple impressions and simple ideas.

Next, he maintains that this constant conjunction is so universal that the correspondence can't be a matter of chance. There must be a causal connection between them, but do ideas cause impressions or do impressions cause ideas?

Finally, he argues that experience tells us that simple impressions always precede and thus cause their corresponding ideas. To support this claim, he appeals to two sorts of cases. First, if you want to give a child an idea of the taste of pineapple, you give her a piece of pineapple to eat. When you do, you are giving her an impression of the pineapple's taste. You never go the other way round. His other case involves a person born blind, who won't have ideas of color because he won't have impressions of color.

The Copy Principle is an empirical thesis, which he emphasizes by offering "one contradictory phenomenon" as an empirical counterexample to the principle. He imagines someone who has had the same sorts of experiences of colors most of us have had, but has never experienced a certain shade of blue. Hume thinks that if he orders all the shades of blue he has experienced from the darkest to the lightest, he will see immediately that there is a gap where the missing shade should be. Then he asks

Whether 'tis possible for him, from his own imagination, to ... raise up to himself the idea of that particular shade, tho' it had never been convey'd to him by his senses? I believe there are few but will be of opinion that he can; and this may serve as a proof, that the simple ideas are not always deriv'd from the correspondent impressions; tho' the instance is so particular and singular, that 'tis scarce worth our observing, and does not merit that for it alone we shou'd alter our general maxim. (T 1.1.1.10/6)

Hume repeats the case of the missing shade almost verbatim in the first Enquiry. While scholars have wondered exactly how the person might supply the missing shade, he seems unconcerned with the details. For Hume, once again the exception proves the-empirical-rule.

4.2 Hume's Account of Definition

Although Hume's distinctive brand of empiricism is often identified with his commitment to the Copy Principle, his use of the principle's reverse in his account of definition is perhaps the more innovative element of his system.

As his diagnosis of traditional metaphysics reveals, Hume believes that

the chief obstacle ... to our improvement in the moral or metaphysical sciences is the obscurity of the ideas, and ambiguity of the terms. (EHU 7.1.2/61)

Conventional definitions-replacing terms with their synonyms-merely replicate philosophical confusions and never break out of a narrow definitional circle. Getting clear about the content of the ideas and the meanings of the terms we are investigating requires something else.

Hume argues that we must "pass from words to the true and real subject of the controversy"-ideas. He believes he has found a way to accurately determine their content-his account of definition. He touts it as "a new microscope or species of optics", predicting that it will produce equally dramatic results in the moral sciences as its hardware counterparts-telescopes and microscopes-have produced in natural philosophy (EHU 7.1.4/62).

Hume's account of definition uses a simple series of tests to determine cognitive content. Begin with a term. Ask what idea is annexed to it. If there is no such idea, then the term has no cognitive content, however prominently it figures in philosophy or theology. If there is an idea annexed to the term, and it is complex, break it down into the simple ideas that compose it, and trace them back to their original impressions. If the process fails at any point, the idea in question lacks cognitive content. When carried through successfully, however, it yields a "just definition"-a precise account of the troublesome idea's content.

Hume uses his account of definition in the critical phaseof his project to show that many of the central concepts of traditional metaphysics lack intelligible content. He also uses it in the constructive phase to determine the exact meaning of our terms and ideas.

4.3 Principles of Association

Although we are capable of separating and combining our simple ideas as we please, there is, nevertheless, a regular order to our thoughts. If ideas occurred to us completely randomly, so that all our thoughts were "loose and unconnected", we wouldn't be able to think coherently (T 1.1.4.1/10). This suggests that

There is a secret tie or union among particular ideas, which causes the mind to conjoin them more frequently, and makes the one, upon its appearance, introduce the other. (Abstract 35)

Hume explains this "tie or union" in terms of the mind's natural ability to associate certain ideas. Association is not "an inseparable connexion", but rather "a gentle force, which commonly prevails", by means of which one idea naturally introduces another (T 1.1.4.1/10).

In the first Enquiry, Hume says that even though it is obvious to everyone that our ideas are connected in this way, he is the first philosopher who has "attempted to enumerate or class all the principles of association" (EHU 3.2/24). He regards his use of these "universal principles" as so distinctive that he advertises them as his most original contribution-one that entitles him call himself an " inventor " (Abstract 35).

Like gravitational attraction, the associative principles are original, and so can't be explained further. Although the associative principles' "effects are everywhere conspicuous" their causes "are mostly unknown, and must be resolv'd into original qualities of human nature, which I pretend not to explain". Accordingly, we should curb any "intemperate desire" to account further for them, for doing so would take us illegitimately beyond the bounds of experience (T 1.1.4.6/12-13).

In the Abstract, Hume concludes that it should be "easy to conceive of what vast consequences these principles must be in the science of human nature". Since they "are the only ties of our thoughts, they are really to us the cement of the universe, and all the operations of the mind must, in great measure, depend on them" (Abstract 35). Just what these "vast consequences" are will become clear when we examine Hume's revolutionary accounts of our causal inferences and moral judgments.

5. Causation

Modern philosophers thought of themselves as scientific revolutionaries because they rejected Aristotle's account of causation. Even so, they accepted his distinction between knowledge and belief, and regarded causal inference as an exercise of reason, which aimed at demonstrating the necessary connection between cause and effect. Malebranche (1638-1715), and others following Descartes (1596-1650), were optimistic about the possibility of demonstrative scientific knowledge, while those in the British experimental tradition were more pessimistic. Locke was sufficiently sceptical about what knowledge we can attain that he constructed one of the first accounts of probable inference to show that belief can meet standards of rationality that make experimental natural philosophy intellectually respectable.

When Hume enters the debate, he translates the traditional distinction between knowledge and belief into his own terms, dividing "all the objects of human reason or enquiry" into two exclusive and exhaustive categories: relations of ideas and matters of fact.

In sharp contrast, the truth of propositions concerning matters of fact depends on the way the world is. Their contraries are always possible, their denials never imply contradictions, and they can't be established by demonstration. Asserting that Miami is north of Boston is false, but not contradictory. We can understand what someone who asserts this is saying, even if we are puzzled about how he could have the facts so wrong.

The distinction between relations of ideas and matters of fact is often called "Hume's Fork", generally with the negative implication that Hume may be illicitly ruling out meaningful propositions that don't fit into these two categories or fit into both of them. To defuse this objection, however, it is important to bear in mind that Hume's categories are his translations of a traditional absolute categorical classificatory distinction, which all his contemporaries and immediate predecessors accepted.

Hume's method dictates his strategy in the causation debate. In the critical phase, he argues that his predecessors were wrong: our causal inferences aren't determined by "reason or any other operation of the understanding" (EHU 5.1.2/41). In the constructive phase, he supplies an alternative: the associative principles are their basis.

5.1 Causal Inference: Critical Phase

Causal inferences are the only way we can go beyond the evidence of our senses and memories. In making them, we suppose there is some connection between present facts and what we infer from them. But what is this connection? How is it established?

If the connection is established by an operation of reason or the understanding, it must concern either relations of ideas or matters of fact.

Hume argues that the connection can't involve relations of ideas. Effects are different events from their causes, so there is no contradiction in conceiving of a cause occurring, and its usual effect not occurring. Ordinary causal judgments are so familiar that we tend to overlook this; they seem immediate and intuitive. But suppose you were suddenly brought into the world as an adult, armed with the intellectual firepower of an Einstein. Could you, simply by examining an aspirin tablet, determine that it will relieve your headache?

Hume now moves to the only remaining possibility. If causal inferences don't involve a priori reasoning about relations of ideas, they must concern matters of fact and experience. When we've had many experiences of one kind of event constantly conjoined with another, we begin to think of them as cause and effect and infer the one from the other. But even after we've had many experiences of a cause conjoined with its effect, our inferences aren't determined by reason or any other operation of the understanding.

In the past, taking aspirin has relieved my headaches, so I believe that taking aspirin will relieve the headache I'm having now. But my inference is based on the aspirin's superficial sensible qualities, which have nothing to do with headache relief. Even if I assume that the aspirin has "secret powers" that are doing the heavy lifting in relieving my headache, they can't be the basis of my inference, since these "secret powers" are unknown.

Nonetheless, Hume observes, "we always presume, when we see like sensible qualities, that they have like secret powers, and expect that effects, similar to those we have experienced, will follow from them" (EHU 4.2.16/33). Since we neither intuit nor infer a priori that similar objects have similar secret powers, our presumption must be based in some way on our experience.

Hume thinks we can get a handle on this question by considering two clearly different propositions:

(1)

I've found that headache relief has always followed my taking aspirin;

and

(2)

Taking aspirin similar to the ones I've taken in the past will relieve my present headache.

There is no question that "the one proposition may be justly inferred from the other", and that "it is always inferred". But since their connection obviously isn't intuitive, Hume challenges us to produce the "chain of reasoning" that takes us from propositions like (1) to propositions like (2) (EHU 4.2.16/34).

Hume thinks it is evident that demonstrative reasoning can't bridge the gap between (1) and (2). However unlikely it may be, we can always intelligibly conceive of a change in the course of nature. Even though aspirin relieved my previous headaches, there's no contradiction in supposing that it won't relieve the one I'm having now, so the supposition of a change in the course of nature can't be proven false by any reasoning concerning relations of ideas.

That leaves probable reasoning. Hume argues that there is no probable reasoning that can provide a just inference from past to future. Any attempt to infer (2) from (1) by a probable inference will be viciously circular-it will involve supposing what we are trying to prove.

At this point, Hume has exhausted the ways reason might establish a connection between cause and effect. He assures us that he offers his "sceptical doubts" not as a "discouragement, but rather an incitement ... to attempt something more full and satisfactory". Having cleared the way for his constructive account, Hume is ready to do just that.

5.2 Causal Inference: Constructive Phase

Hume calls his constructive account of causal inference a "sceptical solution" to the "sceptical doubts" he raised in the critical phase of his argument.

whenever the repetition of any particular act or operation produces a propensity to renew the same act or operation ... we always say, that this propensity is the effect of Custom. (EHU 5.1.5/43)

Hume describes their operation as a causal process: custom or habit is the cause of the particular propensity you form after your repeated experiences of the constant conjunction of smoke and fire. Causation is the operative associative principle here, since it is the only one of those principles that can take us beyond our senses and memories.

Hume concludes that custom alone "makes us expect for the future, a similar train of events with those which have appeared in the past" (EHU 5.1.6/44). Custom thus turns out to be the source of the Uniformity Principle -the belief that the future will be like the past.

5.3 Belief

It can't be that beliefs have some additional idea-the idea of belief, perhaps-that conceptions lack. If there were some such idea, given our ability to freely combine ideas, we could, by simply willing, add that idea to any conception whatsoever, and believe anything we like.

Hume concludes that belief must be some sentiment or feeling aroused in us independently of our wills, which accompanies those ideas that constitute them. It is a particular way or manner of conceiving an idea that is generated by the circumstances in which we find ourselves.

If constant conjunctions were all that is involved, my thoughts about aspirin and headaches would only be hypothetical. For belief, one of the conjoined objects must be present to my senses or memories; I must be taking, or just have taken, an aspirin. In these circumstances, believing that my headache will soon be relieved is as unavoidable as feeling affection for a close friend, or anger when someone harms us. "All these operations are species of natural instincts, which no reasoning ... is able either to produce or prevent" (EHU 5.1.8/46-47).

While Hume thinks that defining this sentiment may be impossible, we can describe belief, if only by analogy, although he was never completely satisfied with his attempts to do so. Belief is a livelier, firmer, more vivid, steady, and intense conception of an object. Hume intends these characterizations to go beyond merely recording intensity of feeling to capture how belief

renders realities ... more present to us than fictions, causes them to weigh more in the thought, and gives them a superior influence on the passions and imagination. (EHU 5.2.12/49)

But how does an idea come to be conceived in such a manner that it constitutes a belief?

Hume's explanation is that as I become accustomed to aspirin's relieving my headaches, I develop a propensity-a tendency-to expect headache relief to follow taking aspirin. The propensity is due to the associative bond that my repeated experiences of taking aspirin and headache relief have formed. My present impressions of taking an aspirin are as forceful and vivid as anything could be, and some of their force and vivacity transfers across the associative path to the idea of headache relief, enlivening it with enough force and vivacity to give it the "strength and solidity" that constitutes belief.

Since I don't know how aspirin relieves headaches, it is fortunate that there is "a kind of pre-established harmony between the course of nature and the succession of our ideas" that teaches me to take aspirin when I have a headache. Custom, Hume maintains, in language that anticipates and influenced Darwin,

is that principle by which this correspondence has been effected; so necessary to the subsistence of our species, and the regulation of our conduct, in every circumstance of human life. (EHU 5.2.21/55)

It is far better, Hume concludes, to rely on "the ordinary wisdom of nature", which ensures that we form beliefs "by some instinct or mechanical tendency", rather than trusting it to "the fallacious deductions of our reason" (EHU 5.2.22/55).

In keeping with his project of providing a naturalistic account of how our minds work, Hume has given empirical explanations of our propensity to make causal inferences, and the way those inferences lead to belief.

6. The Idea of Necessary Connection

The early modern causation debate revolved around a family of "nearly synonymous" key ideas, the most prominent of which were the ideas of power and necessary connection. For Hume, "there are no ideas, which occur in metaphysics, more obscure and uncertain". He showcases the critical and constructive uses of his account of definition as he attempts "to fix ... the precise meaning of these terms", in order to "remove some part of that obscurity, which is so much complained of in this species of philosophy" (EHU 7.1.3/61-62).

6.1 Necessary Connection: Critical Phase

Attending to internal impressions of the operations of our minds doesn't help. Although voluntary bodily movements follow our willing that those movements occur, this is a matter of fact I learn through experience, not from some internal impression of my will's power. When I decide to type, my fingers move over the keyboard. When I decide to stop, they stop, but I have no idea how this happens. Were I aware of the power of my will to move my fingers, I'd know both how it worked and its limits.

Our ability to control our thoughts doesn't give us an impression of power, either. We don't have a clue about how we call up our ideas. Our command over them is limited and varies from time to time. We learn about these limitations and variations only through experience, but the mechanisms by which they operate are unknown and incomprehensible to us. If I decide to think about Istanbul, my idea of that city comes to mind, but I experience only the succession of my decision followed by the idea's appearance, never the power itself.

When ordinary people can't determine an event's cause, they attribute it to some "invisible intelligent principle". Malebranche and other occasionalists do the same, except they apply it across the board. True causes aren't powers in the physical world or in human minds. The only true cause is God's willing that certain objects should always be conjoined with certain others.

Anyone aware of our minds' narrow limits should realize that Malebranche's theory takes us into "fairyland"-it goes so far beyond our experience that we have no way of intelligibly assessing it. It also capitalizes on how little we know about the interactions of bodies, but since our idea of God is based on extrapolations from our faculties, our ignorance should also apply to him.

6.2 Necessary Connection: Constructive Phase

Hume concludes that it is just this felt determination of the mind-our awareness of this customary transition from one associated object to another-that is the source of our idea of necessary connection. When we say that one object is necessarily connected with another, we really mean that the objects have acquired an associative connection in our thought that gives rise to this inference.

Having located the missing ingredient, Hume is ready to offer a definition of cause. In fact, he gives us two. The first,

A cause is an object, followed by another, where all the objects similar to the first are followed by objects similar to the second,

gives the relevant external impressions, while the second,

A cause is an object followed by another, and whose appearance always conveys the thought to the other,

captures the internal impression-our awareness of being determined by custom to move from cause to effect. Both are definitions on Hume's account, but his "just definition" of our idea of cause is the conjunction of the two (EHU 7.2.29/76-77). Only together do they capture all the relevant impressions involved.

Hume locates the source of the idea of necessary connection in us, not in the objects themselves or even in our ideas of those objects we regard as causes and effects. In doing so, he completely changes the course of the causation debate, reversing what everyone else thought about the idea of necessary connection. Subsequent discussions of causation must confront the challenges Hume poses for traditional, more metaphysical, ways of looking at our idea of causation.

Hume's treatment of our idea of causation is his flagship illustration of how his method works and the revolutionary results it can achieve. He goes on to apply both his method, and its concrete results, to other prominent debates in the modern period, including probable inference, testimony for miracles, free will, and intelligent design.

7. Moral Philosophy

Hume's explanation of morality is an important part of his efforts to reform philosophy. He takes his primary task to be an investigation into the origin of the basic moral ideas, which he assumes are the ideas of moral goodness and badness. As with the idea of cause and necessary connection, he wants to explain moral ideas as economically as possible in terms of their "simplest and fewest causes". Determining their causes will determine what their content is-what we mean by them. His secondary concern is to establish what character traits and motives are morally good and bad.

Hume follows his sentimentalist predecessor, Francis Hutcheson (1694-1746), in building his moral theory around the idea of a spectator who approves or disapproves of people's character traits and motives. The sentiments of approval and disapproval are the source of our moral ideas of goodness and badness. To evaluate a character trait as morally good is to evaluate it as virtuous; to evaluate it as morally bad is to evaluate it as vicious.

As he did in the causation debate, Hume steps into an ongoing debate about ethics, often called the British Moralists debate, which began in the mid-seventeenth century and continued until the end of the eighteenth. He uses the same method here as he did in the causation debate: there is a critical phase in which he argues against his opponents, and a constructive phase in which he develops his version of sentimentalism. Hume has two sets of opponents: the self-love theorists and the moral rationalists. He became the most famous proponent of sentimentalism.

Thomas Hobbes' (1588-1679) radical attempt to derive moral and political obligation from motives of self-interest initiated the British Moralists debate. Hobbes, as his contemporaries understood him, characterizes us as naturally self-centered and power-hungry, concerned above all with our own preservation. In the state of nature, a pre-moral and pre-legal condition, we seek to preserve ourselves by trying to dominate others. Since we are all sufficiently "equal" in power, this results in a state of "war of all against all" in which life is "nasty, brutish, and short" ( Leviathan, Ch. 13). The way out is to make a compact with one another. We agree to hand over our power and freedom to a sovereign, who makes the laws necessary for us to live together peacefully and has the power to enforce them. While acting morally requires that we comply with the laws the sovereign establishes, the basis of morality is self-interest.

Bernard Mandeville's (1670-1733) The Fable of the Bees served to reinforce this reading of Hobbes during the early 18 th century. According to Mandeville, human beings are naturally selfish, headstrong, and unruly. Some clever politicians, recognizing that we would be better off living together in a civilized society, took up the task of domesticating us. Realizing that we are proud creatures, highly susceptible to flattery, they were able to dupe many of us to live up to the ideal of virtue-conquering our selfish passions and helping others-by dispensing praise and blame. Moral concepts are just tools clever politicians used to tame us.

Two kinds of moral theories developed in reaction first to Hobbes and then to Mandeville-rationalism and sentimentalism. The rationalists oppose Hobbes' claim that there is no right or wrong in the state of nature, that rightness or wrongness is determined by the sovereign's will, and that morality requires sanctions to motivate us. The sentimentalists object to Hobbes' and Mandeville's "selfish" conceptions of human nature and morality. By the mid-eighteenth century, rationalists and sentimentalists were arguing not only against Hobbes and Mandeville, but also with each other.

7.1 Moral Rationalism: Critical Phase in the Treatise

Hume thinks that "systems and hypotheses" have also "perverted our natural understanding" of morality. The views of the moral rationalists-Samuel Clarke (1675-1729), Locke and William Wollaston (1660-1724)-are prominent among them. One distinctive, but unhealthy, aspect of modern moral philosophy, Hume believes, is that it allies itself with religion and thus sees itself as serving the interests of "popular superstition". Clarke's theory and those of the other rationalists epitomize this tendency.

Clarke, Hume's central rationalist opponent, appeals to reason to explain almost every aspect of morality. He believes that there are demonstrable moral relations of fitness and unfitness that we discover a priori by means of reason alone. Gratitude, for example, is a fitting or suitable response to kindness, while ingratitude is an unfitting or unsuitable response. He believes that the rational intuition that an action is fitting has the power both to obligate us and to move us. To act morally is to act rationally.

Hume's most famous and most important objection to moral rationalism is two-pronged. In Treatise 2.3.3, "Of the influencing motives of the will", he rejects the rationalist ideal of the good person as someone whose passions and actions are governed by reason. In T 3.1.1, he uses these arguments to show that moral ideas do not spring from reason alone.

In the first prong of his objection, Hume begins by remarking that nothing is more common than for philosophers, as well as ordinary people, to talk about the "combat" between reason and passion. They say we ought to be governed by reason rather than passion, and if our passions are not in line with reason's commands, we ought to restrain them or bring them into conformity with reason. Hume counters that "reason alone can never be a motive to any action of the will" and that by itself it can never oppose a passion in the direction of the will.

His first argument rests on his empiricist conception of reason. As we saw in his account of causation, demonstrative reasoning consists in comparing ideas to find relations among them, while probable reasoning concerns matters of fact. He considers mathematical reasoning from the relation of ideas category and causal reasoning from the category of matters of fact. He asks us to look at instances of actions where these two types of reasoning are relevant and says that when we do, we will see that reason alone couldn't have moved us.

No one thinks that mathematical reasoning by itself is capable of moving us. Suppose you want to stay out of debt. This may move you to calculate how much money comes in and how much goes out, but mathematical reasoning by itself does not move us to do anything. Mathematical reasoning, when it bears on action, is always used in connection with achieving some purpose and thus in connection with causal reasoning.

Hume, however, argues that when causal reasoning figures in the production of action, it always presupposes an existing desire or want. On his view, reasoning is a process that moves you from one idea to another. If reasoning is to have motivational force, one of the ideas must be tied to some desire or affection. As he says,

It can never in the least concern us to know, that such objects are causes, and such others effects, if both the causes and effects are indifferent to us. Where the objects themselves do not affect us, their connexion can never give them any influence; and 'tis plain, that as reason is nothing but the discovery of this connexion, it cannot be by its means that the objects are able to affect us (T 2.3.3.3/414).

Noticing a causal connection between exercise and losing weight will not move you to exercise, unless you want to lose weight.

It immediately follows that reason alone cannot oppose a passion in the direction of the will. To oppose a passion, reason must be able to give rise to a motive by itself, since only a motive can oppose another motive, but he has just shown that reason by itself is unable to do this.

Having exposed reason's pretensions to rule, Hume inverts the rationalist's ideal of the good person, and concludes that "Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them" (T 2.3.3.4/415).

The second prong of Hume's objection, the argument from motivation, is directed primarily against Clarke and concerns the source of our moral concepts: either they spring from reason or from sentiment. Couching this debate in terms of his own version of the theory of ideas, he reminds us that to engage in any sort of mental activity is to have a perception before the mind, so "to approve of one character, to condemn another, are only so many different perceptions" (T 3.1.1.2/456). Since there are only two types of perception-ideas and impressions-the question between rationalism and sentimentalism is

Whether 'tis by means of our ideas or impressions we distinguish betwixt vice and virtue, and pronounce an action blameable or praise-worthy? (T 3.1.1.3/456)

The argument from motivation has only two premises. The first is that moral ideas have pervasive practical effects. Experience shows that we are often motivated to perform an action because we think it is obligatory or to refrain because we think it is unjust. We try to cultivate the virtues in ourselves and are proud when we succeed and ashamed when we fail. If morality did not have these effects on our passions and actions, moral rules and precepts would be pointless, as would our efforts to be virtuous. Thus "morals excite passions, and produce or prevent actions" (T 3.1.1.6/457).

The second premise is that by itself reason is incapable of exciting passions or producing and preventing actions, which Hume supports with the arguments we just looked at about the influencing motives of the will. The argument from motivation, then, is that if moral concepts are capable of exciting passions and producing or preventing actions, but reason alone is incapable of doing these things, then moral concepts can't spring from reason alone.

Reason for Hume is essentially passive and inert: it is incapable by itself of giving rise to new motives or new ideas. Although he thinks the argument from motivation is decisive, in T 3.1.1 he offers a battery of additional arguments, which are intended to show that moral concepts do not arise from reason alone.

Hume takes the defeat of rationalism to entail that moral concepts spring from sentiment. Of course, he was not the first to claim that moral ideas arise from sentiment. Hutcheson claimed that we possess, in addition to our external senses, a special moral sense that disposes us to respond to benevolence with the distinctive feelings of approbation. Hume, however, rejects the idea that the moral sentiments arise from a sense that is an " original quality" and part of our " primary constitution".

He first argues that there are many different types of virtue, not all of which are types of benevolence-respecting people's property rights, keeping promises, courageousness, and industriousness-as Hutcheson maintained. If we agree with Hume, but keep Hutcheson's idea of a moral sense, we would have to believe that we have many different "original" senses, which dispose us to approve of the variety of different virtues separately. But he complains that this is not only highly implausible, but also contrary to the

usual maxims, by which nature is conducted, where a few principles produce all the variety we observe in the universe. (T 3.1.2.6/473)

Instead of multiplying senses, we should look for a few general principles to explain our approval of the different virtues.

The real problem, however, is that Hutcheson just claims-hypothesizes-that we possess a unique, original moral sense. If asked why we have a moral sense, his reply is that God implanted it in us. Although in his critical phase Hume freely borrows many of Hutcheson's arguments to criticize moral rationalism, his rejection of a God-given moral sense puts him on a radically different path from Hutcheson in his constructive phase. One way of understanding Hume's project is to see it as an attempt to naturalize Hutcheson's moral sense theory. He aims to provide a wholly naturalistic and economical explanation of how we come to experience the moral sentiments that also explains why we approve of the different virtues. In the course of explaining the moral sentiments, Hutcheson's idea of an original moral sense disappears from Hume's account of morality.

7.2 Sentimentalism: Constructive Phase

In Treatise 3.3.1, Hume turns to his constructive task of providing a naturalistic explanation of the moral sentiments. He refers to them as feelings of approval or disapproval, praise or blame, esteem or contempt. Approval is a kind of pleasant or agreeable feeling; disapproval a kind of painful or disagreeable feeling. In several key passages, he describes the moral sentiments as calm forms of love and hatred. When we evaluate our own character traits, pride and humility replace love and hatred.

Hume's project is "to discover the true origin of morals, and of that love or hatred, which arises" (T 3.3.1/575) when we contemplate our own or other people's character traits and motives. He traces the moral sentiments to sympathy. Sympathy is a psychological mechanism that explains how we come to feel what others are feeling. It is not itself a feeling or sentiment and so should not be confused with feelings of compassion or pity. Hume appeals to sympathy to explain a wide range of phenomena: our interest in history and current affairs, our ability to enjoy literature, movies, and novels, as well as our sociability. It is central to his explanations of our passions, our sense of beauty, and our sense of what is morally good and bad.

Suppose my friend recently suffered a devastating loss and I realize she is feeling sad. The associative principles transmit force and vivacity from my vivid awareness of myself to my idea of my friend's sadness. Since for Hume the difference between impressions and ideas is that impressions are more lively and vivacious than ideas, if an idea of a passion is sufficiently enlivened, it becomes the very passion itself. I now feel sad too, but not quite as strongly as my friend.

The way Hume uses the idea that the associative principles transmit force and vivacity in his explanation of sympathy is parallel to the way he uses it in his explanation of causal inference. In the case of causal inference, if we have an impression of an effect (smoke), the associative principles give rise not only to the idea of its cause (fire), but they also transmit some of the impression's force and vivacity to the idea of its cause, so that we come to believe that fire is the cause of the smoke. A belief is an idea that is so lively that it is like an impression, and influences us in the way impressions do. Similarly, my lively awareness of myself enlivens by association my idea of my friend's sadness. But the result in the case of sympathy is even stronger: when an idea of a passion is sufficiently enlivened, it becomes the very passion itself.

One advantage Hume's explanation of the moral sentiments in terms of sympathy has over Hutcheson's claim that we possess a God-given moral sense is that it enables him to provide a unified theory of the mind. He explains the moral sentiments by appealing to sympathy, which, in turn, he explains in terms of the same associative principles he invoked to explain causal beliefs. Without sympathy, and the associative principles that explain it, we would be unimaginably different than we are-creatures without causal or moral ideas.

Hume develops his account of moral evaluation further in response to two objections to his claim that the moral sentiments arise from sympathy. The first is the "sympathy is variable" objection. Sympathy enables us to enter into the feelings of anyone, even strangers, because we resemble everyone to some extent. But it is an essential feature of his account of the natural and spontaneous operation of sympathy that our ability to respond sympathetically to others varies with variations in the associative relations. I am able to sympathize more easily and strongly with someone who resembles me or is related to me by contiguity or causation. The objection is that the moral sentiments can't be based in sympathy because the loves and hatreds that result from the natural and spontaneous workings of sympathy vary, but our moral approval doesn't vary. The second objection is that "virtue in rags" still evokes our approval. Sympathy works by looking at the actual effects of a person's character traits, but sometimes misfortune or lack of opportunity may prevent an individual from exercising their good character traits, yet we still admire them.

Hume argues that moral love and hatred spring from sympathy, but only when we regulate our sympathetic reactions by taking up what he calls "the general point of view". There are two regulatory features to the general point of view. The first is that we survey a person's character from the perspective of the person and his usual associates-friends, family, neighbors, and co-workers. We sympathize with the person and the people with whom that person regularly interacts and judge character traits in terms of whether they are good or bad for these people. Second, we regulate sympathy further by relying on general rules that specify the general effects and tendencies of character traits rather than sympathizing with their actual effects.

By putting together these two regulatory features, we arrive at Hume's idea of the general point of view, which defines a perspective from which we may survey a person's character traits that we share with everyone. When we occupy the general point of view, we sympathize with the person herself and her usual associates, and come to admire the person for traits that are normally good for everyone. The general point of view is, for Hume, the moral perspective. We do not experience the moral sentiments unless we have already taken up the general point of view. The moral sentiments and the concepts to which they give rise are products of taking up that standpoint.

Hume offers the claim that we admire four sorts of character traits-those that are useful or immediately agreeable to the agent or to others-as an empirical hypothesis. While he provides support for it in his discussion of the individual virtues, he also uses his fourfold classification to undermine Christian conceptions of morality. He makes pride a virtue and humility a vice. He throws out the "monkish" virtues-celibacy, fasting, and penance-on the grounds that they are not pleasant or useful to anyone. He also rejects the distinction between virtues and natural talents, which legislators, "divines" and modern moralists defend by claiming that the moral virtues are voluntary, whereas natural talents aren't. Their goal is to reform us-or at least our outward behavior-making us better, when understood in Christian terms. They accordingly restrict the domain of the moral to actions that proceed from character traits because they believe only they can be modified, shaped, and controlled by sanctions, while talents can't. Hume, however, rejects the distinction along with the dubious function these reformers assign to morality.

Hume identifies both what has value and what makes things valuable with features of our psychology. Our first-order sentiments, passions and affections, as well as actions expressive of them, are what have moral value. Our second-order reflective sentiments about our own or other people's sentiments, passions and affections are what give them value. On his view, morality is entirely a product of human nature.

In the "Conclusion" of the second Enquiry, Hume summarizes his explanation of morality with a definition of virtue or merit:

every quality of mind, which is useful or agreeable to the person himself or to others, communicates a pleasure to the spectator, engages his esteem, and is admitted under the honourable denomination of virtue or merit. (EPM 9.1.12/277)

This is a precise parallel of his two definitions of cause in the first Enquiry. Both sets of definitions pick out features of events, and both record a spectator's response to those events.

7.3 Self-Interest Theories: Critical Phase in the Enquiry

Hume's second Enquiry is a sustained and systematic attack on the "selfish" or "self-love" theories of Hobbes and Mandeville. He follows Hutcheson in thinking that they assign two distinct roles to self-interest in their accounts of morality: first, moral approval and disapproval are based in a concern for our own interest and, second, the motive of which we ultimately approve is self-interest. Although many people during this period understood Hobbes' theory through Mandeville's lens, Hume believes it is important to distinguish them. As he sees it, Mandeville's theory is superficial and easily dismissed. Hobbes is his main opponent.

Hume's rejection of Hobbes' selfish account of approval and disapproval begins in Section II and ends in Part I of the "Conclusion" of the Enquiry. Like Hutcheson, he mistakenly supposes that Hobbes was offering a rival theory of approval and disapproval. We approve of people's character traits when they benefit us and disapprove of them when they harm us. Hume looks at each of the four types of virtue and argues that in each case, our approval does not spring from a concern for our own happiness, but rather from sympathy.

In Section II, Hume argues that one reason we approve of benevolence, humanity, and public spiritedness is that they are useful to others and to society. In Sections III and IV, he argues that the sole ground for approving of justice and political allegiance is that they are useful to society. In Section V, he asks: But useful for whom? Since it is obvious that it has to be "for some body's interest", the question is "Whose interest then?" He assumes there are only two possibilities: approval and disapproval spring either from sentiments that are interested or from a disinterested source.

According to Hume, Hobbes' "deduction of morals from self-love" begins with our realization that we cannot subsist alone. A social order provides security, peace, and mutual protection, conditions that allow us to promote our own interests better than if we lived alone. Our own good is thus bound up with the maintenance of society. Although Hume agrees with Hobbes up to this point, he rejects his explanation that we approve of justice, benevolence, and humanity because they promote our own happiness.

Hume is confident that "the voice of nature and experience" will show that Hobbes' theory, understood in this way, is mistaken. Borrowing many of Hutcheson's arguments, he points out that if approval and disapproval were based on thoughts about the possible advantages and disadvantages to us of people's characters and actions, we would never feel approval and disapproval of people from "very distant ages and remote countries", since they cannot possibly affect us. We would never admire the good deeds of our enemies or rivals, since they are hurtful to us. We would also never approve or disapprove of characters portrayed in novels or movies, since they are not real people and cannot possibly help or harm us. We approve of character traits and actions that are useful not because they benefit us, but because we sympathize with the benefits they bestow on others or society.

Hume next examines the remaining three types of character traits-those that are useful to the agent (industriousness, good judgment), agreeable to the agent (cheerfulness) or agreeable to others (politeness, decency). Why, for example, do we approve of industriousness and good judgment, character traits that are primarily advantageous to the possessor? In most cases they are of absolutely no benefit to us and, in cases of rivalry, they counteract our own interest. We approve of these character traits not because they are beneficial to us, but because we sympathize with the benefits they confer on others. Hume takes this as further evidence against Hobbes' explanation in terms of self-interest and in support of his sympathy-based account.

In Part I of the "Conclusion", Hume complains that Hobbes' self-love theory is unable to explain two important features of our moral sentiments: we tend to approve of the same sorts of character traits and we are able to morally evaluate anyone, at any time or place. If our approval and disapproval were based on thoughts about our own benefits and harms, the moral sentiments would vary from person to person and for the same person over time. We wouldn't have moral feelings about most people, since most people don't affect us. The moral sentiments spring from our capacity to respond sympathetically to others.

Hume is equally adamant that any explanation of the motives that prompt us to virtuous actions in terms of self-interest is mistaken. He opposes them in Appendix II of the Enquiry, which was originally part of Section II, "Of Benevolence". He follows Hutcheson in thinking that the issue is whether the various benevolent affections are genuine or arise from self-interest. Once again he distinguishes Mandeville's from Hobbes' explanations of benevolence and takes Hobbes to be his main opponent. On Hume's reading of Hobbes, while we approve of kindness, friendship, and other benevolent affections, any desire to benefit others really derives from self-interest, although we may not always be conscious of its influence on those desires.

Hume offers two arguments against this selfish view. He first asks us to consider cases in which people are motivated by a genuine concern for others, even when such concern could not possibly benefit them and might even harm them. We grieve when a friend dies, even if the friend needed our help and patronage. How could our grief be based in self-interest? Parents regularly sacrifice their own interests for the sake of their children. Non-human animals care about members of their own species and us. Is their concern a "deduction" of self-interest? He concludes that these and "a thousand other instances ... are marks of a general benevolence in human nature, where no interest binds us" (EPM App 2.11/300).

Hume supplements this argument from experience with a highly compressed sketch of an argument he borrows from Butler. Happiness consists in the pleasures that arise from the satisfaction of our particular appetites and desires. It is because we want food, fame, and other things that we take pleasure in getting them. If we did not have any particular appetites or desires, we would not want anything and there would be nothing from which we would get pleasure. To get the pleasures that self-love aims at, we must want something other than happiness itself.

7.4 Justice: Constructive Phase

Hume rightly showcases his pioneering account of justice. In the Treatise, he emphasizes the distinction between the natural and artificial virtues. The natural virtues-being humane, kind, and charitable-are character traits and patterns of behavior that human beings would exhibit in their natural condition, even if there were no social order. The artificial virtues-respecting people's property rights, fidelity in keeping promises and contracts, and allegiance to government-are dispositions based on social practices and institutions that arise from conventions.

Hume believes that nature has supplied us with many motives-parental love, benevolence, and generosity-that make it possible for us to live together peacefully in small societies based on kinship relations. One of his important insights is that nature has not provided us with all the motives we need to live together peacefully in large societies. After arguing in Treatise 3.2.1 that justice is artificial, in T 3.2.2, he asks two different questions: What motivates human beings to establish the rules of justice that give rise to property rights, and why do we approve of people who obey these rules of justice? The first question concerns justice as a practice constituted by its rules. The second concerns justice as a virtue, a person's disposition to obey the rules of justice.

Hume argues that we enter into a series of conventions to bring about practices, each of which is a solution to a problem. Each convention gives rise to new problems that in turn pressure us to enter into further conventions. The convention to bring about property rights is only the first of several into which we enter. After property rights are established, we enter into conventions to transfer property and to make promises and contracts. According to him, we are by nature cooperators, although at first we cooperate only with members of our own family. But it is also advantageous for us to cooperate with strangers, since it allows us to produce more goods and to exchange them. All three conventions are prior to the formation of government. On Hume's view, it is possible for there to be a peaceful society of property owners who transfer and exchange material possessions before there is government.

Hume argues that the practice of justice is a solution to a problem we naturally face. The problem is that since we care most about our family and close friends, but material goods are scarce and portable, we are tempted to take goods from strangers to give to our family and friends. Disputes over these goods are inevitable, but if we quarrel we will forfeit the benefits that result from living together in society-increased power, ability, and security. The solution to the problem is to establish property rights. We make rules that specify who has a right to what, and agree to follow the rules and to keep our hands off the property of others. Hume was one of the first to see that what is useful is the practice of justice, rather than individual acts of justice. Like Hobbes, he believes that it is in our interest to have the practice of justice in place.

As we just saw, Hume parts company with Hobbes when he answers the second question about why we approve of people who obey the rules of justice. If Hobbes' answer in terms of self-interest is excluded, he thinks only one possibility remains. We approve of just people not because they benefit us but because we sympathize with the benefits they bestow on others and society as a whole. Hume thus explains our approval of justice by appealing to the same principle he invoked to explain our approval of the natural virtues. Thus

self-interest is the original motive to the establishmentof justice: but a sympathy with public interest is the source of the moral approbation, which attends that virtue. (T 3.2.2.24/499-500)

In Part 2 of the "Conclusion" of the Enquiry, Hume raises a serious problem with his account of justice. While it is in our interest to have the practice of justice in place, it may not always be in our interest to obey its rules in every case. This is the free rider problem. The free rider, whom Hume calls the sensible knave, wants to get the benefits that result from having a practice in place without having to always follow its rules. He knows that the only way to obtain the advantages of social cooperation is for the practice of justice to be in place, but he also realizes that a single act of injustice will not significantly damage the practice. Most people will obey the rules of justice, so if he commits one act of injustice, the institution will not be in any danger of collapsing. Suppose he has the opportunity to commit an act of injustice that will benefit him greatly. Why shouldn't he?

Hume confesses that if the sensible knave expects an answer, he is not sure there is one that will convince him.

If his heart rebel not against such pernicious maxims, if he feel no reluctance to thoughts of villainy or baseness, he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue.... (EPM 9.2.23/283)

There is no general agreement about whether Hume actually provides an answer to the sensible knave and if he does, whether it is adequate.

8. Philosophy of Religion

Hume wrote forcefully and incisively on almost every central question in the philosophy of religion, contributing to ongoing debates about the reliability of reports of miracles, the immateriality and immortality of the soul, the morality of suicide, and the natural history of religion, among others. All his work excited heated reactions from his contemporaries, and his arguments still figure centrally in discussions of these issues today.

Hume's greatest achievement in the philosophy of religion is the Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, which is generally regarded as one of the most important and influential contributions to this area of philosophy. While all Hume's books provoked controversy, the Dialogues were thought to be so inflammatory that his friends persuaded him to withhold them from publication until after his death.

The Dialogues are a sustained and penetrating critical examination of a prominent argument from analogy for the existence and nature of God, the argument from design. The argument from design attempts to establish that the order we find in the universe is so like the order we find in the products of human artifice that it too must be the product of an intelligent designer.

8.1 The Characters

Cleanthes and Demea represent the central positions in the eighteenth-century natural religion debate. Cleanthes embodies its dominant, progressive strain, consisting primarily of theologians in the British Royal Society, who were fascinated by probability and the previous century's impressive successes in experimental natural philosophy. Convinced that the new science gave witness to God's providence, they rejected traditional a priori proofs, which purported to demonstrate God's existence with mathematical certainty and without appeal to experience. Instead, they used the order and regularity they found in the universe to construct a probabilistic argument for a divine designer.

Holdouts clung to demonstrative proof in science and theology against the rising tide of probability. Demea is the champion of these conservative traditionalists. Since he trots out a lame version of Samuel Clarke's cosmological argument in Part 9, some have thought that Hume models Demea on him. But Demea lacks Clarke's rigid rationalism. It is more likely that he epitomizes a group of minor theologians such as William King, who stressed God's incomprehensibility and resorted to a priori arguments only when they absolutely needed them.

8.2 God's Natural Attributes

Demea holds that God is completely unknown and incomprehensible; all we can say is that God is a being without restriction, absolutely infinite and universal. Cleanthes is adamant that the argument from design establishes all of God's traditional attributes. Natural objects and human artifacts resemble one another, so by analogy, their causes also resemble each other. God is therefore like a human mind, only very much greater in every respect.

Demea objects that the argument's conclusion is only probable, but Philo responds that the real problem is that the analogy is so weak. He launches a battery of arguments to show just how weak it is. The dissimilarities between human artifacts and the universe are more striking than their similarities. We only experience a tiny part of the universe for a short time; much of what we do experience is unknown to us. How can we legitimately infer anything about remote parts of the universe, much less the universe as a whole?

Philo, however, moves quickly away from chipping at the argument's strength to questioning the intelligibility of its conclusion. We have no experience of the origin of a universe. Since causal inference requires a basis in experienced constant conjunction between two kinds of things, how can we legitimately draw any conclusion whatsoever about the origin of the universe? Does it even require a cause? One or many? Does the cause of the universe itself require a cause? The problem, then, is not just that the analogy is weak; the real problem is that it attempts to take us beyond what we can know.

Meanwhile, Demea derides Cleanthes' anthropomorphism while remaining smugly satisfied with what Cleanthes disparagingly calls his mysticism. The barbs they throw at each other, and the speeches Philo goads them to make, help create a dilemma that Philo uses them to construct. He directs the dilemma at Cleanthes, but it affects both characters, although Demea is slow to realize this. He thinks Philo is in league with him in detailing the problems with Cleanthes' anthropomorphism.

Challenging Cleanthes to explain what he means by God's mind, Philo pushes him to admit that he means "a mind like the human". Cleanthes, taking the bait, responds, "I know of no other" (DCNR 5.4/42). He argues that mystics like Demea are no better than atheists, since they make God so remote and incomprehensible that he bears no resemblance to human characteristics. Philo adds that although we regard God as perfect, perfection-as we understand it-is relative, not absolute, so we can't conclude that we grasp God's perfections. Since all God's attributes involve perfection-perfect knowledge, perfect power, perfect goodness-we shouldn't think that any of his attributes resemble or are even analogous to ours. But this means that we don't know what we're talking about when we talk about God using the familiar terms we apply to human minds.

Philo continues to detail just how inconvenient Cleanthes' anthropomorphism really is. If he accepts the argument from design, he must be committed to a God who is finite in all respects. But what does it mean to say that God is finitely perfect? Once you admit that God is finite, you've opened a can of worms, for there are all sorts of equally probable alternatives to intelligent design. Why think that the universe is more like a human artifact than an animal or a vegetable? To illustrate, Philo throws out a number of outlandish alternative hypotheses. For instance, if you were a spider on a planet of spiders, wouldn't you naturally believe that a giant spider spun an immense web to create the world?

Cleanthes' design hypothesis is so underdetermined by the evidence that the only reasonable approach is to abandon any attempt to adjudicate among it and its many alternatives. Total suspension of judgment is the only reasonable response. Otherwise, we go beyond the bounds of anything to which we can give specific content.

The dilemma Philo has constructed encapsulates the issue about the content of the idea of God that is central to the critical aspect of Hume's project in the Dialogues. If you accept that God's attributes are infinitely perfect, you are using ordinary terms without their ordinary meaning, so that they do not have any clear meaning. If you deny God's infinite perfection, you can give him understandable attributes, but only because they are amplified human characteristics. The closer Cleanthes comes to regarding God's mind as like a human mind, the closer he comes to regarding God's attributes as being like human attributes, and the less Godlike his "God" is. We can only give the idea of God intelligible content at the perilously high cost of denying that he is really God. To do so is to abandon God for some kind of superhero.

At the end of Part 8, which concludes their discussion of God's natural attributes, Demea still thinks that Philo and he are partners. He remains clueless about Philo's strategy until the very end of Part 11, when he finally realizes that he too is caught in the trap Philo has sprung.

8.3 God's Moral Attributes

Demea begins the discussion in Part 10. Attempting to save face from his recent drubbing, he suggests that we don't accept the truths of religion as a result of reasoning, but from what we feel when confronted with how helpless and miserable we are. Religion is based on feelings of fear and anxiety that arise from awareness of our "imbecility and misery" (DCNR 10.1/68). Our forms of worship are attempts to appease unknown powers that oppress and torment us.

Philo joins in, claiming he is convinced that

the best and indeed the only method of bringing everyone to a due sense of religion is by just representations of the misery and wickedness of men. (DCNR 10.2/68)

They proceed with a joint litany of the misery and melancholy of the human condition, topping each other with catalogues of woes. Demea does not realize that Philo may mean very different things by "just representation" and "due sense of religion" than he does, so he fails to realize that Philo is just egging him on.

Philo maintains that we can't evade the facts of disease, famine, and pestilence, except by "apologies, which still farther aggravate the charge" (DCNR 10.16/72). These apologies are theodicies -systematic attempts to reconcile God's goodness with the existence of evil. Demea is also scornful of theodicies, blissfully unaware that all too soon he will be offering his own.

Cleanthes-"smiling"-grants that if Philo can prove that mankind is "unhappy or corrupted", he will have succeeded in doing in religion (DCNR 10.28/74). He thinks he finally has Philo on the ropes. In forcing a sceptic to prove a positive thesis, he must not only succeed at a difficult task, but violates his scepticism in the process. Cleanthes fails to realize that Philo will make his case without needing to prove anything, nor does he realize that he will soon be the one who needs a proof.

Demea objects that Cleanthes exaggerates the dire consequences of acknowledging the human condition, and, despite his earlier vehement rejection of theodicies, offers his own. Sometimes called "the porch view", Demea's theodicy compares our experience of the world to the world as a whole, including the afterlife, to trying to determine the structure of a large building from what little we can see from its porch. From our perspective, we suffer, but from a longer view, either we don't suffer at all, or else our suffering is for our greater good or for the greater good of the world.

Cleanthes retorts that Demea denies the facts, and offers only empty hypotheses, which, if intelligible at all, could only establish their bare possibility, but never their reality. The only way to respond to challenges to God's benevolence is to deny that the human condition is really so miserable.

Cleanthes has now put himself in the position in which he thought he had put Philo. He must establish that the facts are as he claims, and Philo is quick to stress how difficult this will be. By resting his case on such an uncertain point, any conclusion he draws will be equally uncertain.

Philo then ups the ante by granting for the sake of argument that human happiness exceeds human misery. But if God is infinitely powerful, wise, and good, why is there any misery at all? There is no answer that preserves all God's attributes, except to grant that the subject exceeds the limits of our understanding.

Philo concludes by admitting, with less than complete sincerity, that while he was hard pressed to make his case against Cleanthes when the discussion concerned God's natural attributes, where his moral attributes are concerned, he is at ease. He challenges Cleanthes "to tug the laboring oar" and explain how he can infer God's moral attributes from the facts about the human condition (DCNR 10.36/77).

Cleanthes "tugs", but only for one short paragraph. He admits that if we go beyond their usual meanings when we apply human terms to God, what we say is indeed unintelligible. Abandoning all human analogy is thus to abandon natural religion, but preserving it makes it impossible to reconcile evil with an infinite God.

Cleanthes realizes he has painted himself into a corner, but once again he thinks there is a way out. Abandon God's infinity; think of him as "finitely perfect". Then "benevolence, regulated by wisdom, and limited by necessity, may produce just such a world as the present" (DCNR 11.1/78).

Cleanthes doesn't realize that his new theory is worse than his old one. He also doesn't seem to remember Philo's earlier question about what "finitely perfect" might possibly mean. Instead of God, he is now committed to some kind of superhero. Besides, the story he is telling is itself a theodicy. His superhero's limitations explain why he cannot eliminate evil, or create an evil-free world.

In any case, Cleanthes is no better off than he was before. Conjectures may show that the data are consistent with the idea of God, but are never sufficient to prove that he actually exists.

Philo then proceeds to outline four possible hypotheses about the cause of the universe: it is perfectly good; it is perfectly evil; it is both good and evil; it is neither good nor evil. Given the evil we know exists, the data is at best mixed, so we can't establish either of the first two hypotheses. The regularity and uniformity of the general laws we find in experience is sufficient to discount the third, so the fourth seems the most probable. On that hypothesis, the cause of the universe is entirely indifferent to the amount of good and evil in the world.

These points about natural evil also apply to moral evil. We have no more reason to think that God's righteousness resembles human righteousness than we have to think that his benevolence resembles human benevolence. We have even less reason, in fact, since moral evil outweighs moral goodness more than natural evil outweighs natural goodness.

In addition, Cleanthes' new form of anthropomorphism is saddled with tracing moral evil back to God. Since every effect must have a cause, either the chain of causes goes back infinitely, or it stops with the original principle that is the ultimate cause of all things-God.

At this point, Demea, who has become increasingly agitated during Philo's speech, interrupts. He finally realizes that the case Philo is making cuts against his own view as much as it cuts against Cleanthes'. Although it might appear that Demea can retreat to some form of the theodicy he sketched earlier, the extent to which Philo's argument upsets him suggests that he now realizes it is inadequate. If he leans on the mystery-mongering he has professed until now, Philo has shown that, because of its lack of specific content, it does not point exclusively to a good God. It may just as well commit him to a supreme being who is "beyond good and evil" and is totally indifferent to morality. Commitment without content turns out to be no commitment at all. Demea realizes this, dimly at least, as he leaves the conversation.

8.4 The Conclusion: Part 12

With Demea's departure, Cleanthes and Philo are left to finish the conversation. Their tone is conciliatory, so conciliatory that Philo says he must "confess" that although he is less cautious about natural religion than any other subject,

no one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, or pays more profound adoration to the divine Being, as he discovers himself to reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of nature. (DCNR 12.2/89)

Philo's "confession" paves the way for a blockbuster that has puzzled generations of readers. Philo seems to reverse field, apparently recanting what he has argued for so forcefully. He grants Cleanthes that "a purpose, an intention, a design, strikes everywhere the most careless, the most stupid thinker" (DCNR 12.2/89).

His remarks are, however, by no means straightforward. Some take Philo-and, by implication, Hume-to be outing himself as a closet theist. Others conclude that, since he holds all the cards at this point, he can afford to be conciliatory. Read ironically, Philo could be saying that while "careless and stupid" observers are struck by purpose, intention, and design in the universe, careful, critical, intelligent ones are not. But there is no need to force the irony here. Read straight, nature's "contrivance and artifice" is "inexplicable" precisely because reason can discover nothing about God's natural or moral attributes. Everyone-even the stupid and careless-can see that the parts of animals and plants have functions, and so can easily understand why "an anatomist, who discovered a new organ or canal, would never be satisfied until he had also discovered its use and intention" (DCNR 12.2/90).

Recognizing that an organism's parts have uses- functions -says nothing about whether their uses or functions are due to a designer's plan, so Philo's acknowledgement implies nothing about whether he now accepts the design hypothesis. In fact, what he says here reiterates his position in Part 8, that function alone is no proof of divine design:

it is in vain ... to insist on the uses of the parts of animals or vegetables and their curious adjustment to each other. I would fain know how an animal could subsist, unless its parts were so adjusted? (DCNR 8.9/61)

No one should deny design in this sense, so long as they do so "without any religious purpose" (DCNR 12.2/90). Far from reversing himself, then, Philo's position is continuous with the line he has taken throughout the Dialogues.

As the conversation continues, Philo provides a diagnosis of the dispute. While the works of nature do bear "a great analogy" to the products of human artifice, as its proponents claim, there are also considerable differences. He suspects that this may be the source of the intractability of the controversy, which suggests that it may be at bottom "somewhat of a dispute of words" (DCNR 12.6/92).

But verbal disputes can be resolved-or dissolved-by providing clear definitions. However, the dilemma about the content of our idea of God that Philo has constructed clearly implies that such a constructive solution is not possible here.

Philo explains why only a critical solution is possible by offering a deeper diagnosis of the problem. Although the dispute may appear to be merely verbal, it is in fact "still more incurably ambiguous", for

there is a species of controversy, which, from the very nature of language and of human ideas, is involved in perpetual ambiguity, and can never, by any precaution or any definitions, be able to reach a reasonable certainty or precision. These are the controversies concerning the degrees of any quality or circumstance. (DCNR 12.7/92)

This is exactly what the dispute over intelligent design is about. Analogies are always matters of degree, and the degrees of the qualities involved in the design argument aren't capable of exact measurement. The controversy thus "admits not of any precise meaning, nor consequently of any determination" (DCNR 12.7/93). The dispute about design is actually worse than a verbal dispute.

That is why anyone, even an atheist, can say, with equal plausibility, that "the rotting of a turnip, the generation of an animal, and the structure of human thought" all "probably bear some remote analogy to each other" (DCNR 12.7/93). That is why Philo, without renouncing any of his previous claims, can assent to the "somewhat ambiguous, at least undefined", and, as we have seen, indefinable proposition into which

the whole of natural theology ... resolves itself ... that the cause or causes of order in the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence. (DCNR 12.33/101)

Anything is like anything else in some remote respect. So the ordering principle of the universe, if indeed there is one, can be absolutely anything.

If this is all there is to "the whole of natural theology", then we can certainly conclude that the argument's conclusion has no religiously significant content. But it has no religiously significant content because Philo's critique has drained it of any content whatsoever. Cleanthes' design hypothesis is not just false; it is unintelligible.

The conversation began with all three participants agreeing that their topic was to discuss only God's nature, not his existence. As it concludes, it is no longer clear that these questions are really so distinct as originally assumed. We don't know what we're talking about when we talk about a God whose nature is inconceivable, incomprehensible, indeterminate, and indefinable. What, then, are we to make of the claim about his existence?

The Dialogues draw out the consequences of Hume's statement, in the first Enquiry, that

the idea of God, as meaning an infinitely intelligent, wise, and good Being, arises from reflecting on the operations of our own mind, and augmenting, without limit, those qualities of goodness and wisdom. (EHU 2.6/19)

If we insist on "augmenting without limit", we let loose the moorings that give intelligible content to God's intelligence, wisdom, and goodness. If we stop short of the limit, we may have content, but we have also lost God.

Bibliography

Primary Literature

Hume's Works

The standard critical edition of Hume's philosophical writings is The Clarendon Edition of the Works of David Hume, currently in progress. The General Editors are Tom L. Beauchamp, the late David Fate Norton, and the late M.A. Stewart. The following volumes, in order of publication, are now in print:

An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, edited by Tom L. Beauchamp, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998.

An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, edited by Tom. L. Beauchamp, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999.

A Treatise of Human Nature, edited by David Fate Norton and Mary J. Norton, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000.

A Dissertation on the Passions and The Natural History of Religion, edited by Tom L. Beauchamp, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007.

Essays, Moral, Political, and Literary, edited by Tom L. Beauchamp and Mark A. Box, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2021.

Oxford is also simultaneously keeping these two long-familiar editions of the Treatise and the Enquiries in print, in order to "ensure their continued availability":

[T] A Treatise of Human Nature, edited by L. A. Selby-Bigge, 2nd ed. revised by P. H. Nidditch, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975. Page references in this entry are to this edition. [It also contains Hume's "Abstract" of theTreatise. Abbreviated [Abstract], with paragraph references also to this edition.]

[EHU] An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, and [EPM]An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals. Both are contained inEnquiries concerning Human Understanding and concerning the Principles of Morals, edited by L. A. Selby-Bigge, 3rd edition, revised by P. H. Nidditch, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975. Page references in this entry are to this edition.

Other Works by Hume

The Letters of David Hume, edited by J.Y.T. Grieg, 2 volumes, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932. [HL]

"My Own Life" (Hume's Autobiographical Essay), in HL 1-7].

New Letters of David Hume, edited by Raymond Klibansky and Ernest C. Mossner, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1954.

Further Letters of David Hume, edited by Felix Waldman, Edinburgh: Edinburgh Bibliographical Society, 2014.

Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, edited by Dorothy Coleman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. [Abbreviated [DCNR], wirth page references to this edition.]

Other Primary Literature

Bentham, J., 1776, A Fragment on Government, J.H. Burns and H.L.A. Hart (eds.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977.

Hobbes, T., 1651, Leviathan, in E. Curley (ed.),Leviathan, with selected variants from the Latin edition of 1668, Indianapolis: Hackett, 1994.

Kant, I., 1783, Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics That Will Be Able to Come Forward as a Science, in H. Allison and P. Heath (eds.),Immanuel Kant: Theoretical Philosophy after 1781, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002, 19-170

Secondary Literature

Ainslie, D.C., 2015, Hume's True Scepticism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Ainslie, D.C., and Annemarie Butler (eds.), 2015, The Cambridge Companion to Hume's Treatise, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Allison, H.E., 2008, Custom and Reason in Hume, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Árdal, P.S., 1966, Passion and Value in Hume's Treatise, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. 2nd edition, revised, 1989.

Baier, A.C., 1991, A Progress of Sentiments: Reflections on Hume's Treatise, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

---, 2008, Death and Character: Further Reflections on Hume, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Baxter, D.L.M., 2008, Hume's Difficulty, London: Routledge.

Beauchamp, T.L. and A. Rosenberg, 1981, Hume and the Problem of Causation, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bennett, J., 2001, Learning from Six Philosophers, Two Volumes, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Blackburn, S., 1993, Essays in Quasi-Realism, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bricke, J., 1980, Hume's Philosophy of Mind, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Box, M. A., 1990, The Suasive Art of David Hume, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Brown, C. and W. E. Morris, 2012, Starting with Hume, London: Continuum.

Buckle, S., 2001, Hume's Enlightenment Tract: The Unity and Purpose of An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Cohon, R. (ed.), 2001, Hume: Moral and Political Philosophy, Aldershot: England and Burlington, Vermont: Dartmouth/Ashgate.

---, 2008, Hume's Morality. New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Costelloe, T.M., 2018, The Imagination in Hume's Philosophy: The Canvas of the Mind, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

De Pierris, G., 2015, Ideas, Evidence, and Method: Hume's Skepticism and Naturalism concerning Knowledge and Causation, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Dicker, G., 1998, Hume's Epistemology and Metaphysics: An Introduction, London and New York: Routledge.

Earman, J., 2000, Hume's Abject Failure: The Argument Against Miracles, New York: Oxford University Press.

Fodor, J.A., 2003, Hume Variations, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Fogelin, R.J., 1985, Hume's Scepticism in the Treatise of Human Nature, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

---, 2003 A Defense of Hume on Miracles, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

---, 2009, Hume's Skeptical Crisis, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Frasca-Spada, M., 1998, Space and the Self in Hume's Treatise, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Frasca-Spada, M. and P.J.E. Kail (eds.), 2005, Impressions of Hume, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Garfield, J.L., 2019, The Concealed Influence of Custom: Hume's Treatise from the Inside Out, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Garrett, D., 1996, Cognition and Commitment in Hume's Philosophy, Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2015, Hume, London and New York: Routledge.

Harris, J.A., 2005, Of Liberty and Necessity: The Free Will Debate in Eighteenth-Century British Philosophy, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

---, 2015, Hume: An Intellectual Biography, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Holden, T., 2010, Spectres of False Divinity: Hume's Moral Atheism, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Jones, P., 1982, Hume's Sentiments, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Kail, P.J.E., 2007, Projection and Realism in Hume's Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Livingston, D.W., 1984, Hume's Philosophy of Common Life, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

---, 1998, Philosophical Melancholy and Delirium: Hume's Pathology of Philosophy, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Loeb, L.E., 2002, Stability and Justification in Hume's Treatise, New York: Oxford University Press.

Millican, P. (ed.), 2002, Reading Hume on Human Understanding, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Mossner, E.C., 1954, The Life of David Hume, London: Nelson.

Noonan, H.W., 1999, Hume on Knowledge, London and New York: Routledge.

Norton, D.F., 1982, David Hume, Common Sense Moralist, Sceptical Metaphysician, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Norton, D. F. and J. Taylor (eds.), 2009, The Cambridge Companion to Hume, 2nd edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Noxon, J., 1973, Hume's Philosophical Development, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Owen, D., 2000, Hume's Reason, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Passmore, J., 1952, Hume's Intentions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Pears, D., 1990, Hume's System, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Penelhum, T., 1975, Hume, London: Macmillan.

---, 2000, Themes in Hume: The Will, The Self, Religion, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Price, H.H., 1940, Hume's Theory of the External World, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Qu, H.M., 2020, Hume's Epistemological Evolution, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Radcliffe, E.S. (ed.), 2008, A Companion to Hume, Oxford: Blackwell.

---, 2018, Hume, Passion, and Action, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Read, R. and K.A. Richman (ed.), 2000, The New Hume Debate, New York and London: Routledge.

Russell, P., 1995, Freedom and Moral Sentiment, New York: Oxford University Press.

---, 2008, The Riddle of Hume's Treatise:Skepticism, Naturalism, and Irreligion, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

---, 2016, The Oxford Handbook of Hume, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Schabas, M. and Carl Wennerlund, 2020, A Philosopher's Economist: Hume and the Rise of Capitalism, Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Schmitt, F.F., 2014, Hume's Epistemology in the Treatise:A Veritistic Interpretation, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Smith, N.K., 1941, The Philosophy of David Hume, London: Macmillan.

Stanistreet, P., 2002, Hume's Scepticism and the Science of Human Nature, Aldershot: Ashgate.

Stewart, M.A. and J.P. Wright (eds.), 1994, Hume and Hume's Connexions, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Strawson, G., 1989, The Secret Connexion: Causation, Realism and David Hume, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Stroud, B., 1977, Hume, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Taylor, J.A., 2015, Reflecting Subjects: Passion, Sympathy, and Society in Hume's Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Traiger, S. (ed.), 2006, The Blackwell Guide to Hume's Treatise, Oxford: Blackwell.

Tweyman, S., 1995, David Hume: Critical Assessments, Six Volumes, London and New York: Routledge.

Watkins, M., 2020, The Philosophical Progress of Hume's Essays, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Waxman, W., 1994, Hume's Theory of Consciousness, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Wright, J. P., 1983, The Sceptical Realism of David Hume, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

---, 2009, Hume's "A Treatise of Human Nature": An Introduction, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Born in Edinburgh, Hume spent his childhood at Ninewells, his family's modest estate in the border lowlands. He came from a "good family" (MOL 2)-socially well connected but not wealthy.

# data[].attributes.body
A comprehensive introduction to Kant's philosophy, transcendental idealism, morality and freedom and the unity of nature and freedom.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Immanuel Kant's Philosophy - Bryan Magee & Geoffrey Warnock (1987)

# data[].attributes.body
This article provides an extensive overview of Immanuel Kant's life and philosophical contributions, highlighting his synthesis of rationalism and empiricism, and his arguments for human autonomy as the foundation for scientific knowledge, morality, and religious belief, significantly influencing modern philosophy in various fields.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Immanuel Kant (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) is the central figure in modern philosophy. He synthesized early modern rationalism and empiricism, set the terms for much of nineteenth and twentieth century philosophy, and continues to exercise a significant influence today in metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, political philosophy, aesthetics, and other fields.

# data[].attributes.headline
9.6 Introduction to Modern Philosophy: The Emergence of Rationalism

# data[].attributes.subject
9.6 Introduction to Modern Philosophy: The Emergence of Rationalism

# data[].attributes.body
This video discusses how rationalism emerged in the Renaissance period, starting with Descartes.

# data[].attributes.headline
9.7 A Short History of Modern Philosophy

# data[].attributes.subject
9.7 A Short History of Modern Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
This book explores the works of the founding fathers of modern philosophy, from Rene Descartes to Ludwig Wittgenstein.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.

# data[].attributes.headline
10.1 Classical Chinese Philosophy: A Brief Introduction

# data[].attributes.subject
10.1 Classical Chinese Philosophy: A Brief Introduction

# data[].attributes.body
This video surveys a number of thinkers from Classical Chinese philosophy including: Kongzi’s revivalism and virtue ethics, Mozi’s consequentialism and impartial caring, Yang Zhu’s ethical egoism, Mengzi’s Confucianism, The School of Name’s paradoxical argumentation, the Daodejing’s mysticism, the Zhuangzi’s relativism and skepticism, Xunzi’s Confucianism, and Han Feizi’s legalism.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Classical Chinese Philosophy: A Brief Introduction

# data[].attributes.headline
10.2 How to Establish Social Order? Three Early Chinese Answers

# data[].attributes.subject
10.2 How to Establish Social Order? Three Early Chinese Answers

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores three ways of thinking about establishing social order from an ancient Chinese perspective.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.provider_name
1000-Word Philosophy: An Introductory Anthology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Way, Chaos, and Order are central to (early) Chinese philosophy. The Way is not a metaphor, but a natural structure to be uncovered by thinking and action. Chaos happens when people do not find a Way. Not finding a Way is bad for everyone and everything. But if people and communities follow the right Way, Order arises. Order is not about just solving a political problem: it is about bringing peace, increasing welfare, and finding positive interactions.

The concept of the Way, or Dao, can refer to the natural structure of the cosmos that is uncovered by thinking and action. It can also be the structure and content of the political discourse as well as the principle that creates order. (Early) Chinese philosophy is about the many interpretations of how to harmonize political order, political discourse and the natural Dao. The importance of the way in establishing order becomes clear against the historical background, which was marked by chaos.

Between 771 and 221 BCE, China was torn apart. Wars between competing kingdoms, migration, and poverty. In this climate of insecurity, brutality, and social breakdown, Chinese philosophy began. Ways of thinking - later labelled as Confucianism, Daoism, Legalism, among other philosophies, whereby these labels denote at best some fuzzy family resemblance - flourished, all of them seeking to establish order. This essay reviews three influential early Chinese understandings of harmonizing the social with the natural Dao.

1. Confucianism

The teachings of Kong Zi (孔子; Kǒngzǐ, "Master Kong" - "Confucius" is the Latinization of Kǒng Fūzǐ 孔夫子, "Great Master Kong"; 551? - 479? BCE) stress the performance of roles, virtuous behavior, ritual adequacy, and education. The Confucian idea of Order was based on emulating ancient wisdom. This means that each person must perform certain roles. It is not the person who chooses the role: roles are given by the place a person has in the community. In Confucianism, the role constitutes what the person does - and is. So, it is the person that adapts to the role and not the role that adapts to the person. The most important roles are "father, son," "older brother, younger brother," "ruler, subject," "older friend, younger friend," and "husband, wife."

People's following the roles is a necessary but not yet sufficient condition for establishing order. Only if the roles are performed with virtue will people succeed in becoming wise. It takes a lot of effort for a person to perform roles virtuously. Confucius stresses primordial virtues: benevolence, righteousness, ritual property, loyalty, knowledge, and filial piety.

Here the Dao manifests itself as an ordering principle. People are required to make a lot of effort to become educated, virtuous, able to perform the rites and so on. This process of aligning one´s actions with the Dao is called self-cultivation.

The Daodejing (道德經; Dàodéjīng) and the Zhuangzi (莊子; Zhuāngzǐ) are the bases for Daoism. While the Daodejing is attributed to a possibly unhistorical person called the "old master," Laozi (老子; Lǎozǐ), the Zhuangzi is attributed to Master Zhuang (369 - 290? BCE).

The central concept of Daoism is Dao. In this discourse, Dao is the process of reality itself, the way things come together, while still transforming. While it cannot be expressed in language what the Dao is, it is not an other-worldly entity. Rather, the Dao is holistic. It is a pattern that shapes reality but at the same time, the structure of reality is the Dao. Those who experience oneness with Dao will be enabled to wu-wei, which might best be understood as letting the Dao of things flow in one's action. Negatively, it means that human action should not interfere with the natural flow of the Dao. Positively, it means training oneself to understand the particular Dao - natural structure and social adequacy - of one's action.

Conformity with the Dao automatically leads to order, because the Dao is the natural order of things. The only way of becoming one with the Dao is to detach oneself from lesser preoccupations and exercise wu-wei, or "effortless action." The Dao, as it unfolds and if left untampered, is always a force of good. Virtue - the ability to navigate reality - comes from the Dao, and not from the rites or self-cultivation.

The "Legalist school", Fajia, (法家; fǎ jiā) is a label applying different philosophers who used the Fa - standard or law - as pivotal concept. Its main proponents are: Shen Dao ( 慎到; Shèn Dào; c. 350-c. 275 BCE), Shang Yang (商鞅; Shāng Yāng; 390-338 BCE), Li Si ( 李斯; Lì Sì c. 280-208 BCE), Shen Buhai (申不害; Shēn Bùhài; c. 400-c. 337 BCE), and Hanfei (韓非; Hán Fēi; c. 280-233 BCE).

Their objective was to create order by making the state strong. They wanted to strengthen the position of the ruler by standardizing the instruments of government and governance. Standardization includes a general set of rules valid and applicable to all people, uniformity in weights, measures, and units of account, as well as predictable administrative processes. With the "two handles" of praise and punishment, rulers would be able to create a well-functioning state-machinery that would lead to order and peace.

Generally, Legalists subscribed to the idea that where the state is ordered, communities are ordered, too. Order leads to strength and strength leads to order. Therefore, they decidedly objected to Confucian virtuosity and Daoist wu-wei. Their ideal of leadership was to govern by standards, or laws. In their discourse, it was the ruler's task to identify the natural Dao and mold social standards according to it. Then, the state-machinery oversees the compliance with the standards, aligning social actions with the natural Dao via maintaining standards.

4. Conclusion

Against the context of chaos, the three ways of thinking emerged. Confucianism developed a system of role- and virtue-ethics shaped by ritual. In emulating the Dao, the wisdom of the past, Confucians wanted to restore order. Daoists desired to establish order by challenging society's actions. In achieving wu-wei, the Dao unfolds and creates a natural order. Legalists thought that establishing standards molded on the Dao would automatically lead to order.

This particular context in which all these ways of thinking emerged reveals a lot about Chinese philosophy. For example, philosophy is not interested in stand-alone issues: it is about the relationships of people, community, society, and structures of governance like state and empires. Philosophy is both practical and intellectual. Chinese Philosophy does not distinguish between what is and what ought to be: both are parts of the same. It is Order that unites what is and what ought to be.

There were more than the three "schools" introduced here. The three chosen for this text reflect their relative importance at the time and their continuation until today.

The concept of wu wei (無爲), literally no-doing, philosophically usually rendered as "effortless action" is an intriguing concept in Chinese philosophy. It is especially important to Daoism, but as a philosophical term it has many nuances. It one sense, it can denote an attitude of genuine non-action, motivated by a lack of desire to participate in human affairs. However, it can also refer to an action that is particularly attuned to the Dao of a circumstance. Think of dancing - not a particular ballroom dance or other forms of formal dancing - but just following the rhythm. In this metaphor, the rhythm would be the Dao and the person dancing would effortlessly, naturally be attuned to it. In a more political use, it means identifying the best course of action in a given context. For more discussion, see Cook (1997).

For Further Reading

Cristian Violatti, Ancient Chinese Philosophy (online resource).

Chad Hansen, Chad Hansen's Chinese Philosophy Pages, a collection of introductory and advanced essays (online resource).

Related Essays

Mengzi's Moral Psychology, Part 1: The Four Moral Sprouts by John Ramsey

Mengzi's Moral Psychology, Part 2: The Cultivation Analogy by John Ramsey

The Ethics of Mozi: Social Organization and Impartial Care by Henrique Schneider

About the Author

Henrique Schneider is a professor of economics at the Nordakademie in Elmshorn and Hamburg, Germany. His research addresses economics and philosophy, as well as early Chinese philosophy, especially Legalism. His book on a Chinese legalistic philosopher, Hanfei, An Introduction to the Political Philosophy of Hanfei (Cambridge Scholars Press) was published in 2018. https://www.nordakademie.de/die-nordakademie/team/

Follow 1000-Word Philosophy on , and subscribe to receive email notifications of new essays at the bottom of 1000WordPhilosophy.com

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.authors[].name
1000-Word Philosophy: An Introductory Anthology

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
How to Establish Social Order? Three Early Chinese Answers

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Author: Henrique Schneider Categories: Chinese Philosophy, Historical Philosophy, Social and Political Philosophy, Ethics Word Count: 998 Way, Chaos, and Order are central to (early) Chinese philosophy. The Way is not a metaphor, but a natural structure to be uncovered by thinking and action. Chaos happens when people do not find a Way.

# data[].attributes.headline
10.3 Who was Confucius? And What Did He Really Say?

# data[].attributes.subject
10.3 Who was Confucius? And What Did He Really Say?

# data[].attributes.body
Who Was Confucius? And What Did He Really Say?  Bryan Van Norden provides a comprehensive introduction in answer to these questions.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Who Was Confucius? And What Did He Really Say?

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores the multifaceted roles of Confucius throughout Chinese history, including his portrayals as a teacher, philosopher, reformer, and prophet, and delves into his significant impact on East Asian thought and culture. It examines the complexity of Confucian philosophy, highlighting its basis in ritual, ethics, and societal organization, while acknowledging the historical debates and varying interpretations that have evolved around Confucius's teachings and his influence on traditional and modern cultures.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
1. Confucius as Chinese Philosopher and Symbol of Traditional Culture

Because of the wide range of texts and traditions identified with him, choices about which version of Confucius is authoritative have changed over time, reflecting particular political and social priorities. The portrait of Confucius as philosopher is, in part, the product of a series of modern cross-cultural interactions. In Imperial China, Confucius was identified with interpretations of the classics and moral guidelines for administrators, and therefore also with training the scholar-officials that populated the bureaucracy. At the same time, he was closely associated with the transmission of the ancient sacrificial system, and he himself received ritual offerings in temples found in all major cities. By the Han (202 BCE-220 CE), Confucius was already an authoritative figure in a number of different cultural domains, and the early commentaries show that reading texts associated with him about history, ritual, and proper behavior was important to rulers. The first commentaries to the Analects were written by tutors to the crown prince (e.g., Zhang Yu 張禹, d. 5 BCE), and select experts in the "Five Classics" ( Wujing 五經) were given scholastic positions in the government. The authority of Confucius was such that during the late Han and the following period of disunity, his imprimatur was used to validate commentaries to the classics, encoded political prophecies, and esoteric doctrines.

When Confucius became a character in the intellectual debates of eighteenth century Europe, he became identified as China's first philosopher. Jesuit missionaries in China sent back accounts of ancient China that portrayed Confucius as inspired by Natural Theology to pursue the good, which they considered a marked contrast with the "idolatries" of Buddhism and Daoism. Back in Europe, intellectuals read missionary descriptions and translations of Chinese literature, and writers like Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716) and Nicolas-Gabriel Clerc (1726-1798) praised Confucius for his discovery of universal natural laws through reason. Enlightenment writers celebrated the moral philosophy of Confucius for its independence from the dogmatic influence of the Church. While at times he was criticized as an atheist or an advocate of despotism, many Europeans viewed Confucius as a moral philosopher whose approach was in line with rationalism and humanism.

Today, many descriptions combine these several ways of positioning Confucius, but the modern interpretation of his views has been complicated by a tendency to look back on him as an emblem of the "traditional culture" of China. In the eyes of some late nineteenth and twentieth century reformers who sought to fortify China against foreign influence, the moral teachings of Confucius had the potential to play the same role that they perceived Christianity had done in the modernization of Europe and America, or serve as the basis of a more secular spiritual renewal that would transform the population into citizens of a modern nation-state. In the twentieth century, the pursuit of modernization also led to the rejection of Confucius by some reformers in the May Fourth and New Culture movements, as well as by many in the Communist Party, who identified the traditional hierarchies implicit in his social and political philosophy with the social and economic inequalities that they sought to eliminate. In these modern debates, it is not just the status of Confucius in traditional China that made him such a potent symbol. His specific association with the curriculum of the system of education of scholar-officials in the imperial government, and of traditional moral values more generally, connected him to the aspects of tradition worth preserving, or the things that held China back from modernization, depending on one's point of view.

As legacies of Confucius tied to traditional ritual roles and the pre-modern social structure were criticized by modernizers, a view of Confucius as a moral philosopher, already common in European readings, gained ascendancy in East Asia. The American-educated historian Hu Shi 胡適 (1891-1962) wrote an early influential history of Chinese philosophy, beginning with Laozi 老子 and Confucius, explicitly on the model of existing histories of Western philosophy. In it, Hu compared what he called the conservative aspect of the philosophy of Confucius to Socrates and Plato. Since at least that time, Confucius has been central to most histories of Chinese philosophy.

2. Sources for Confucius's Life and Thought

Confucius was born in the domain of Zou, in modern Shandong Province, south of the larger kingdom of Lu. A date of 551 BCE is given for his birth in the Gongyang Commentary ( Gongyang zhuan 公羊傳) to the classic Spring and Autumn Annals ( Chunqiu 春秋), which places him in the period when the influence of the Zhou polity was declining, and regional domains were becoming independent states. His father, who came from Lu, was descended from a noble clan that included, in Sima Qian's telling, several people known for their modesty and ritual mastery. His father died when Confucius was a small child, leaving the family poor but with some social status, and as a young man Confucius became known for expertise in the classical ritual and ceremonial forms of the Zhou. In adulthood, Confucius travelled to Lu and began a career as an official in the employ of aristocratic families.

Different sources identify Confucius as having held a large number of different offices in Lu. Entries in the Zuo Commentary ( Zuozhuan 左傳) to the Spring and Autumn Annals for 509 and 500 BCE identify him as Director of Corrections ( Sikou 司寇), and say he was charged with assisting the ruler with the rituals surrounding a visiting dignitary from the state of Qi, respectively. The Mencius ( Mengzi 孟子), a text centered on a figure generally regarded as the most important early developer of the thought of Confucius, Mencius (trad. 372-289 BCE), says Confucius was Foodstuffs Scribe ( Weili 委吏) and Scribe in the Field ( Chengtian 乘田), involved with managing the accounting at the granary and keeping the books on the pasturing of different animals (11.14). In the first biography, Sima Qian mentions these offices, but then adds a second set of more powerful positions in Lu including Steward ( Zai 宰) managing an estate in the district of Zhongdu, Minister of Works ( Sikong 司空), and even acting Chancellor ( Xiang 相). Following his departure from Lu, different stories place Confucius in the kingdoms of Wei, Song, Chen, Cai, and Chu. Sima Qian crafted these stories into a serial narrative of rulers failing to appreciate the moral worth of Confucius, whose high standards forced him to continue to travel in search of an incorrupt ruler.

Late in life, Confucius left service and turned to teaching. In Sima Qian's time, the sheer number of independently circulating texts centering on dialogues that Confucius had with his disciples led the biographer to include a separate chapter on "The arranged traditions of the disciples of Confucius" ( Zhong Ni dizi liezhuan 仲尼弟子列傳). His account identifies 77 direct disciples, whom Sima Qian says Confucius trained in ritual practice and the Classic of Odes ( Shijing 詩經), Classic of Documents ( Shujing 書經, also called Documents of the Predecessors or Shangshu 尚書), Records of Ritual ( Liji 禮記) and Classic of Music ( Yuejing 樂經). Altogether, some 3000 students received some form of this training regimen. Sima Qian's editorial practice in systematizing dialogues was inclusive, and the fact that he was able to collect so much information some three centuries after the death of Confucius testifies to the latter's importance in the Han period. Looked at in a different way, the prodigious numbers of direct disciples and students of Confucius, and the inconsistent accounts of the offices in which he served, may also be due to a proliferation of texts associating the increasingly authoritative figure of Confucius with divergent regional or interpretive traditions during those intervening centuries.

The many sources of quotations and dialogues of Confucius, both transmitted and recently excavated, provide a wealth of materials about the philosophy of Confucius, but an incomplete sense of which materials are authoritative. The last millennium has seen the development of a conventional view that materials preserved in the twenty chapters of the transmitted Analects most accurately represent Confucius's original teachings. This derives in part from a second century CE account by Ban Gu 班固 (39-92 CE) of the composition of the Analects that describes the work as having been compiled by first and second generation disciples of Confucius and then transmitted privately for centuries, making it arguably the oldest stratum of extant Confucius sources. In the centuries since, some scholars have come up with variations on this basic account, such as Liu Baonan's 劉寳楠 (1791-1855) view in Corrected Meanings of the Analects ( Lunyu zhengyi 論語正義) that each chapter was written by a different disciple. Recently, several centuries of doubts about internal inconsistencies in the text and a lack of references to the title in early sources were marshaled by classicist Zhu Weizheng 朱維錚 in an influential 1986 article which argued that the lack of attributed quotations from the Analects, and of explicit references to it, prior to the second century BCE, meant that its traditional status as the oldest stratum of the teachings of Confucius was undeserved. Since then a number of historians, including Michael J. Hunter, have systematically shown that writers started to demonstrate an acute interest in the Analects only in the late second and first centuries BCE, suggesting that other Confucius-related records from those centuries should also be considered as potentially authoritative sources. Some have suggested this critical approach to sources is an attack on the historicity of Confucius, but a more reasonable description is that it is an attack on the authoritativeness of the Analects that broadens and diversifies the sources that may be used to reconstruct the historical Confucius.

Expanding the corpus of Confucius quotations and dialogues beyond the Analects, then, requires attention to three additional types of sources. First, dialogues preserved in transmitted sources like the Records of Ritual, the Elder Dai's Records of Ritual ( DaDai Liji 大戴禮記), and Han collections like the Family Discussions of Confucius ( Kongzi jiayu 孔子家語) contain a large number of diverse teachings. Second, quotations attached to the interpretation of passages in the classics preserved in works like the Zuo Commentary to the Spring and Autumn Annals, or Han's Intertextual Commentary on the Odes ( Han Shi waizhuan 韓詩外傳) are particularly rich sources for readings of history and poetry. Finally, a number of recently archaeologically recovered texts from the Han period and before have also expanded the corpus.

Previously unknown Confucius dialogues and quotations have also been unearthed. The Dingzhou site also yielded texts given the titles "Sayings of the Ru" ( Rujiazhe yan 儒家者言) and "Duke Ai asked about the five kinds of righteousness" ( Aigong wen wuyi 哀公問五義). A significantly different text also given the name "Sayings of the Ru" was found in 1977 in a Han tomb at Fuyang in Anhui Province. Several texts dating to 168 BCE recording statements by Confucius about the Classic of Changes ( Yijing 易經) were excavated from the Mawangdui site in Hunan Province in 1973. Additionally, a number of Warring States period dialogical texts centered on particular disciples, and a text with interpretative comments by Confucius on the Classic of Poetry given the name "Confucius discusses the Odes" ( Kongzi shilun 孔子詩論), were looted from tombs in the 1990s, sold on the black market, and made their way to the Shanghai Museum. The 59 BCE tomb of the Marquis of Haihun also contains a number of previously unknown Confucius dialogues and quotations on ritual and filial piety, along with materials that overlap with sections of transmitted texts including the Analects, Records of Ritual and the Elder Dai's Records of Ritual. Another unprovenanced manuscript, now curated by Anhui University, "Zhong Ni said" ( Zhong Ni yue 仲尼曰) has around two dozen sayings, seven of which overlap with the modern Analects. Most recently, initial reports about a 2021 excavation at Wangjiazui 王家嘴 in Hubei province of an unknown number of sayings entitled "Kongzi said," ( Kongzi yue 孔子曰) indicate it only partially overlaps with the Analects. These new finds suggest that a larger number of sayings attributed to Kongzi once circulated together, with certain ones being selected out for inclusion in works like the Records of Ritual and the Analects.

3. Ritual Psychology and Social Values

The Records of Ritual, the Analects, and numerous Han collections portray Confucius as being deeply concerned with the proper performance of ritual and music. In such works, the description of the attitudes and affect of the performer became the foundation of a ritual psychology in which proper performance was key to reforming desires and beginning to develop moral dispositions. Confucius sought to preserve the Zhou ritual system, and theorized about how ritual and music inculcated social roles, limited desires and transformed character.

Many biographies begin their description of his life with a story of Confucius at an early age performing rituals, reflecting accounts and statements that demonstrate his prodigious mastery of ritual and music. The archaeological record shows that one legacy of the Zhou period into which Confucius was born was a system of sumptuary regulations that encoded social status. Another of these legacies was ancestral sacrifice, a means to demonstrate people's reverence for their ancestors while also providing a way to ask the spirits to assist them or to guarantee them protection from harm. The Analects describes the ritual mastery of Confucius in receiving guests at a noble's home (10.3), and in carrying out sacrifices (10.8, 15.1). He plays the stone chimes (14.39), distinguishes between proper and improper music (15.11, 17.18), and extols and explains the Classic of Odes to his disciples (1.15, 2.2, 8.3, 16.13, 17.9). This mastery of classical ritual and musical forms is an important reason Confucius said he "followed Zhou" (3.14). While he might alter a detail of a ritual out of frugality (9.3), Confucius insists on adherence to the letter of the rites, as when his disciple Zi Gong 子貢 sought to substitute another animal for a sheep in a seasonal sacrifice, saying "though you care about the sheep, I care about the ritual" (3.17). It was in large part this adherence to Zhou period cultural forms, or to what Confucius reconstructed them to be, that has led many in the modern period to label him a traditionalist.

Where Confucius clearly innovated was in his rationale for performing the rites and music. Historian Yan Buke 閻步克 has argued that the early Confucian ( Ru) tradition began from the office of the "Music master" ( Yueshi 樂師) described in the Ritual of Zhou ( Zhou Li 周禮). Yan's view is that since these officials were responsible for teaching the rites, music, and the Classic of Odes, it was their combined expertise that developed into the particular vocation that shaped the outlook of Confucius. Early discussions of ritual in the Zhou classics often explained ritual in terms of a do ut des view of making offerings to receive benefits. By contrast, early discussions between Confucius and his disciples described benefits of ritual performance that went beyond the propitiation of spirits, rewards from the ancestors, or the maintenance of the social or cosmic order. Instead of emphasizing goods that were external to the performer, these works stressed the value of the associated interior psychological states of the practitioner. In Analects 3.26, Confucius condemns the performance of ritual without reverence ( jing 敬). He also condemns views of ritual that focus only on the offerings, or views of music that focus only on the instruments (17.11). Passages from the Records of Ritual explain that Confucius would rather have an excess of reverence than an excess of ritual (" Tangong, shang" 檀弓上), and that reverence is the most important aspect of mourning rites (" Zaji, xia" 雜記下). This emphasis on the importance of an attitude of reverence became the salient distinction between performing ritual in a rote manner, and performing it in the proper affective state. Another passage from the Records of Ritual says the difference between how an ideal gentleman and a lesser person cares for a parent is that the gentleman is reverent when he does it (" Fangji" 坊記, cf. Analects 2.7). In contexts concerning both ritual and filial piety ( xiao 孝), the affective state behind the action is arguably more important than the action's consequences. As Philip J. Ivanhoe has written, ritual and music are not just an indicator of values in the sense that these examples show, but also an inculcator of them.

In this ritual psychology, the performance of ritual and music restricts desires because it alters the performer's affective states, and place limits on appetitive desires. The Records of Ritual illustrates desirable affective states, describing how the Zhou founder King Wen 文 was moved to joy when making offerings to his deceased parents, but then to grief once the ritual ended (" Jiyi" 祭義). A collection associated with the third century BCE philosopher Xunzi 荀子 contains a Confucius quotation that associates different parts of a ruler's day with particular emotions. Entering the ancestral temple to make offerings and maintain a connection to those who are no longer living leads the ruler to reflect on sorrow, while wearing a cap to hear legal cases leads him to reflect on worry (" Aigong" 哀公). These are examples of the way that ritual fosters the development of particular emotional responses, part of a sophisticated understanding of affective states and the ways that performance channels them in particular directions. More generally, the social conventions implicit in ritual hierarchies restrict people's latitude to pursue their desires, as the master explains in the Records of Ritual:

The way of the gentleman may be compared to an embankment dam, bolstering those areas where ordinary people are deficient (" Fangji ").

Blocking the overflow of desires by adhering to these social norms preserves psychological space to reflect and reform one's reactions.

Once, when speaking of cultivating benevolence, Confucius explained how ritual value was connected to the ideal way of the gentleman, which should always take precedence over the pursuit of conventional values:

Wealth and high social status are what others covet. If I cannot prosper by following the way, I will not dwell in them. Poverty and low social status are what others shun. If I cannot prosper by following the way, I will not avoid them. (4.5)

The argument that ritual performance has internal benefits underlies the ritual psychology laid out by Confucius, one that explains how performing ritual and music controls desires and sets the stage for further moral development.

4. Virtues and Character Formation

Many of the short passages from the Analects, and the "Thicket of Sayings" passages excavated at Guodian, describe the development of set of ideal behaviors associated with the moral ideal of the "way" ( dao 道) of the "gentleman" ( junzi 君子). Based on the analogy between the way of Confucius and character ethics systems deriving from Aristotle, these patterns of behavior are today often described using the Latinate term "virtue". In the second passage in the Analects, the disciple You Ruo 有若 says a person who behaves with filial piety to parents and siblings ( xiao and di 弟), and who avoids going against superiors, will rarely disorder society. It relates this correlation to a more general picture of how patterns of good behavior effectively open up the possibility of following the way of the gentleman: "The gentleman works at the roots. Once the roots are established, the way comes to life" (1.2). The way of the gentleman is a distillation of the exemplary behaviors of the selfless culture heroes of the past, and is available to all who are willing to "work at the roots". In this way, the virtues that Confucius taught were not original to him, but represented his adaptations of existing cultural ideals, to which he continually returned in order to clarify their proper expressions in different situations. Five behaviors of the gentleman most central to the Analects are benevolence ( ren 仁), righteousness ( yi 義), ritual propriety ( li 禮), wisdom ( zhi 智), and trustworthiness ( xin 信).

The virtue of benevolence entails interacting with others guided by a sense of what is good from their perspectives. Sometimes the Analects defines benevolence generally as "caring for others" (12.22), but in certain contexts it is associated with more specific behaviors. Examples of contextual definitions of benevolence include treating people on the street as important guests and common people as if they were attendants at a sacrifice (12.2), being reticent in speaking (12.3) and rejecting the use of clever speech (1.3), and being respectful where one dwells, reverent where one works, and loyal where one deals with others (13.19). It is the broadest of the virtues, yet a gentleman would rather die than compromise it (15.9). Benevolence entails a kind of unselfishness, or, as David Hall and Roger Ames suggest, it involves forming moral judgments from a combined perspective of self and others.

The second virtue, righteousness, is often described in the Analects relative to situations involving public responsibility. In contexts where standards of fairness and integrity are valuable, such as acting as the steward of an estate as some of the disciples of Confucius did, righteousness is what keeps a person uncorrupted. Confucius wrote that a gentleman "thinks of righteousness when faced with gain" (16.10, 19.10), or "when faced with profit" (14.12). Confucius says that one should ignore the wealth and rank one might attain by acting against righteousness, even if it means eating coarse rice, drinking water, and sleeping using one's bent arm as a pillow (7.16). Later writers like Xunzi celebrated Confucius for his righteousness in office, which he stressed was all the more impressive because Confucius was extremely poor (" Wangba " 王霸). This behavior is particularly relevant in official interactions with ordinary people, such as when "employing common people" (5.16), and if a social superior has mastered it, "the common people will all comply" (13.4). Like benevolence, righteousness also entails unselfishness, but instead of coming out of consideration for the needs of others, it is rooted in steadfastness in the face of temptation.

The perspective needed to act in a righteous way is sometimes related to an attitude to personal profit that recalls the previous section's discussion of how Confucius taught his disciples to recalibrate their sense of value based on their immersion in the sacrificial system. More specifically, evaluating things based on their ritual significance can put one at odds with conventional hierarchies of value. This is defined as the root of righteous behavior in a story from the late Warring States period text Master Fei of Han ( Han Feizi 韓非子). The tale relates how at court, Confucius was given a plate with a peach and a pile of millet grains with which to scrub the fruit clean. After the attendants laughed at Confucius for proceeding to eat the millet first, Confucius explained to them that in sacrifices to the Former Kings, millet itself is the most valued offering. Therefore, cleaning a ritually base peach with millet:

would be obstructing righteousness, and so I dared not put [the peach] above what fills the vessels in the ancestral shrine. (" Waichu shuo, zuo shang " 外儲說左上)

While such stories may have been told to mock his fastidiousness, for Confucius the essence of righteousness was internalizing a system of value that he would breach for neither convenience nor profit.

At times, the phrase "benevolence and righteousness" is used metonymically for all the virtues, but in some later texts, a benevolent impulse to compassion and a righteous steadfastness are seen as potentially contradictory. In the Analects, portrayals of Confucius do not recognize a tension between benevolence and righteousness, perhaps because each is usually described as salient in a different set of contexts. In ritual contexts like courts or shrines, one ideally acts like one might act out of familial affection in a personal context, the paradigm that is key to benevolence. In the performance of official duties, one ideally acts out of the responsibilities felt to inferiors and superiors, with a resistance to temptation by corrupt gain that is key to righteousness. The Records of Ritual distinguishes between the domains of these two virtues:

In regulating one's household, kindness overrules righteousness. Outside of one's house, righteousness cuts off kindness. What one undertakes in serving one's father, one also does in serving one's lord, because one's reverence for both is the same. Treating nobility in a noble way and the honorable in an honorable way, is the height of righteousness. (" Sangfu sizhi " 喪服四制)

While it is not the case that righteousness is benevolence by other means, this passage underlines how in different contexts, different virtues may push people toward participation in particular shared cultural practices constitutive of the good life.

The mastery that "ritual propriety" signaled was part of a curriculum associated with the training of rulers and officials, and proper ritual performance at court could also serve as a kind of political legitimation. Confucius summarized the different prongs of the education in ritual and music involved in the training of his followers:

Raise yourself up with the Classic of Odes. Establish yourself with ritual. Complete yourself with music. (8.8)

On one occasion, Boyu 伯魚, the son of Confucius, explained that when he asked his father to teach him, his father told him to study the Classic of Odes in order to have a means to speak with others, and to study ritual to establish himself (16.13). That Confucius insists that his son master classical literature and practices underscores the values of these cultural products as a means of transmitting the way from one generation to the next. He tells his disciples that the study of the Classic of Odes prepares them for different aspects of life, providing them with a capacity to:

at home serve one's father, away from it serve one's lord, as well as increase one's knowledge of the names of birds, animals, plants and trees. (17.9)

This valuation of knowledge of both the cultural and natural worlds is one reason why the figure of Confucius has traditionally been identified with schooling, and why today his birthday is celebrated as "Teacher's Day" in some parts of Asia. In the ancient world, this kind of education also qualified Confucius and his disciples for employment on estates and at courts.

The fourth virtue, wisdom, is related to appraising people and situations. In the Analects, wisdom allows a gentleman to discern crooked and straight behavior in others (12.22), and discriminate between those who may be reformed and those who may not (15.8). In the former dialogue, Confucius explains the virtue of wisdom as "knowing others". The "Thicket of Sayings" excavated at Guodian indicates that this knowledge is the basis for properly "selecting" others, defining wisdom as the virtue that is the basis for selection. But it is also about appraising situations correctly, as suggested by the master's rhetorical question: "How can a person be considered wise if that person does not dwell in benevolence?" (4.1). One well-known passage often cited to imply Confucius is agnostic about the world of the spirits is more literally about how wisdom allows an outsider to present himself in a way appropriate to the people on whose behalf he is working:

When working for what is right for the common people, to show reverence for the ghosts and spirits while maintaining one's distance may be deemed wisdom. (6.22)

The context for this sort of appraisal is usually official service, and wisdom is often attributed to valued ministers or advisors to sage rulers.

In certain dialogues, wisdom also connotes a moral discernment that allows the gentleman to be confident of the appropriateness of good actions. In the Analects, Confucius tells his disciple Zi Lu 子路 that wisdom recognizes knowing a thing as knowing it, and ignorance of a thing as ignorance of it (2.17). In soliloquies about several virtues, Confucius describes a wise person as never confused (9.28, 14.28). While comparative philosophers have noted that Chinese thought has nothing clearly analogous to the role of the will in pre-modern European philosophy, the moral discernment that is part of wisdom does provide actors with confidence that the moral actions they have taken are correct.

The virtue of trustworthiness qualifies a gentleman to give advice to a ruler, and a ruler or official to manage others. In the Analects, Confucius explains it succinctly: "if one is trustworthy, others will give one responsibilities" (17.6, cf. 20.1). While trustworthiness may be rooted in the proper expression of friendship between those of the same status (1.4, 5.26), it is also valuable in interactions with those of different status. The disciple Zi Xia 子夏 explains its effect on superiors and subordinates: when advising a ruler, without trustworthiness, the ruler will think a gentleman is engaged in slander, and when administering a state, without trustworthiness, people will think a gentleman is exploiting them (19.10). The implication is that a sincerely public-minded official would be ineffective without the trust that this quality inspires. In a dialogue with a ruler from chapter four of Han's Intertextual Commentary the Odes, Confucius explains that in employing someone, trustworthiness is superior to strength, ability to flatter, or eloquence. Being able to rely on someone is so important to Confucius that, when asked about good government, he explained that trustworthiness was superior to either food or weapons, concluding: "If the people do not find the ruler trustworthy, the state will not stand" (12.7).

The presence of themes in the Analects like the ruler's exceptional influence as a moral exemplar, the importance of judging people by their deeds rather than their words (1.3, 2.10, 5.10), or even the protection of the culture of Zhou by higher powers (9.5), all highlight the unsystematic nature of the text and underscore that teaching others how to cultivate the virtues is a key aspect, but only a part, of the ethical ideal of Confucius. Yet there is also a conundrum inherent in any attempt to derive abstract moral rules from the mostly dialogical form of the Analects, that is, the problem of whether the situational context and conversation partner is integral to evaluating the statements of Confucius. A historically notable example of an attempt to find a generalized moral rule in the Analects is the reading of a pair of passages that use a formulation similar to that of the "Golden Rule" of the Christian Bible (Matthew 7:12 and Luke 6:31) to describe benevolence: "Do not impose upon others those things that you yourself do not desire" (12.2, cf. 5.12, 15.24). Read as axiomatic moral imperatives, these passages differ from the kind of exemplar-based and situational conversations about morality usually found in the Analects. For this reason, some scholars, including E. Bruce Brooks, believe these passages to be interpolations. While they are not wholly inconsistent with the way that benevolence is described in early texts, their interpretation as abstract principles has been influenced by their perceived similarity to the Biblical examples. In the Records of Ritual, a slightly different formulation of a rule about self and others is presented as not universal in its scope, but rather as descriptive of how the exemplary ruler influences the people. In common with other early texts, the Analects describes how the moral transformation of society relies on the positive example of the ruler, comparing the influence of the gentleman on the people to the way the wind blows on the grass, forcing it to bend (12.19). In a similar vein, after discussing how the personal qualities of rulers of the past determined whether or not their subjects could morally transform, the Records of Ritual expresses its principle of reflexivity:

That is why the gentleman only seeks things in others that he or she personally possesses. [The gentleman] only condemns things in others that he or she personally lacks. (" Daxue " 大學)

This is a point about the efficacy of moral suasion, saying that a ruler cannot expect to reform society solely by command since it is only the ruler's personal example that can transform others. For this reason, the ruler should not compel behaviors from his subjects to which he or she would not personally assent, something rather different from the "Golden Rule". Historically, however, views that Confucius was inspired by the same Natural Theology as Christians, or that philosophers are naturally concerned with the generalization of moral imperatives, have argued in favor of a closer identification with the "Golden Rule," a fact that illustrates the interpretative conundrum arising from the formal aspects of the Analects.

5. The Family and the State

It is rare for a person who is filially pious to his parents and older siblings to be inclined to rebel against his superiors... Filial piety to parents and elder siblings may be considered the root of a person. (1.2)

This section examines Confucius's social and political philosophy, beginning with the central role of his analysis of the traditional norm of filial piety.

Just as Confucius analyzed the psychology of ritual performance and related it to individual moral development, his discussion of filial piety was another example of the development and adaptation of a particular classical cultural pattern to a wider philosophical context and set of concerns. Originally limited to descriptions of sacrifice to ancestors in the context of hereditary kinship groups, a more extended meaning of "filial piety" was used to describe the sage king Shun's 舜 (trad. r. 2256-2205 BCE) treatment of his living father in the Classic of Documents. Despite humble origins, Shun's filial piety was recognized as a quality that signaled he would be a suitable successor for the sage king Yao 堯 (trad. r. 2357-2256 BCE). Confucius in the Analects praised the ancient sage kings at great length, and the sage king Yu 禹 for his filial piety in the context of sacrifice (8.21). However, he used the term filial piety to mean both sacrificial mastery and behaving appropriately to one's parents. In a conversation with one of his disciples he explains that filial piety meant "not contesting", and that it entailed:

while one's parents were alive, serving them in a ritually proper way, and after one's parents died, burying them and sacrificing to them in a ritually proper way. (2.5)

In rationalizing the moral content of legacies of the past like the three-year mourning period after the death of a parent, Confucius reasoned that for three years a filially pious child should not alter a parent's way (4.20, cf. 19.18), and explains the origin of length of the three-year mourning period to be the length of time that the parents had given their infant child support (17.21). This adaptation of filial piety to connote the proper way for a gentleman to behave both inside and outside the home was a generalization of a pattern of behavior that had once been specific to the family.

In my circle, being upright differs from this. A father would conceal such a thing on behalf of his son, and a son would conceal it on behalf of his father. Uprightness is found in this. (13.18)

In this way, too, Confucius was adapting filial piety to a wider manifold of moral behaviors, honing his answer to the question of how a child balances responsibility to family and loyalty to the state. While these two traits may conflict with one and other, Sociologist Robert Bellah, in his study of Tokugawa and modern Japan, noted how the structural similarity between loyalty and filial piety led to their both being promoted by the state as interlinked ideals that located each person in dual networks of responsibility. Confucius was making this claim when he connected filial piety to the propensity to be loyal to superiors (1.2). Statements like "filial piety is the root of virtuous action" from the Classic of Filial Piety connect loyalty and the kind of action that signals the personal virtue that justifies political authority, as in the historical precedent of the sage king Shun.

Of the classical sources from which Confucius drew, two were particularly influential in discussions of political legitimation. The Classic of Odes consists of 305 Zhou period regulated lyrics (hence the several translations "songs", "odes", or "poems") and became numbered as one of the Five Classics ( Wujing) in the Han dynasty. Critical to a number of these lyrics is the celebration of King Wen of Zhou's overthrow of the Shang, which is an example of a virtuous person seizing the "Mandate of Heaven":

This King Wen of ours, his prudent heart was well-ordered. He shone in serving the High God, and thus enjoyed much good fortune. Unswerving in his virtue, he came to hold the domains all around. (" Daming " 大明)

The Zhou political theory expressed in this passage is based on the idea of a limited moral universe that may not reward a virtuous person in isolation, but in which the High God ( Shangdi 上帝, Di 帝) or Heaven will intercede to replace a bad ruler with a person of exceptional virtue. The Classic of Documents is a collection that includes orations attributed to the sage rulers of the past and their ministers, and its arguments often concern moral authority with a focus on the methods and character of exemplary rulers of the past. The chapter "Announcement of Kang" (" Kanggao " 康誥) is addressed to one of the sons of King Wen, and provides him with a guide for behaving as sage ruler as well as with methods that had been empirically proven successful by those rulers. When it comes to the mandate inherited from King Wen, the chapter insists that the mandate is not unchanging, and so as ruler the son must always be mindful of it when deciding how to act. Further, it is not always possible to understand Heaven, but the "feelings of the people are visible", and so the ruler must care for his subjects. The Zhou political view that Confucius inherited was based on supernatural intercession to place a person with personal virtue in charge of the state, but over time the emphasis shifted to the way that the effects of good government could be viewed as proof of a continuing moral justification for that placement.

Confucius himself arguably served as a historical counterexample to the classical "Mandate of Heaven" theory, calling into question the direct nature of the support given by Heaven to the person with virtue. The Han period Records of the Historian biography of Confucius described him as possessing all the personal qualities needed to govern well, but wandering from state to state because those qualities had not been recognized. When his favorite disciple died, the Analects records Confucius saying that "Heaven has forsaken me!" (11.9). Wang Chong's 王充 (27-c.97 CE) Balanced Discussions ( Lunheng 論衡) uses the phrase "uncrowned king" ( suwang 素王) to describe the tragic situation: "Confucius did not rule as king, but his work as uncrowned king may be seen in the Spring and Autumn Annals" (80). The view that through his writings Confucius could prepare the world for the government of a future sage king became a central part of Confucius lore that has colored the reception of his writings since, especially in works related to the Spring and Autumn Annals and its Gongyang Commentary. The biography of Confucius reinforced the tragic cosmological picture that personal virtue did not always guarantee success. Even when Heaven's support is cited in the Analects, it is not a matter of direct intercession, but expressed through personal virtue or cultural patterns: "Heaven gave birth to the virtue in me, so what can Huan Tui 桓魋 do to me?" (7.23, cf. 9.5). As Robert Eno has pointed out, the concept of Heaven also came to be increasingly naturalized in passages like "what need does Heaven have to speak?" (17.19). Changing views of the scope of Heaven's activity and the ways human beings may have knowledge of that activity fostered a change in the role of Heaven in political theory.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Because of the wide range of texts and traditions identified with him, choices about which version of Confucius is authoritative have changed over time, reflecting particular political and social priorities. The portrait of Confucius as philosopher is, in part, the product of a series of modern cross-cultural interactions.

# data[].attributes.headline
10.5 Li as Cultural Grammar: On the Relation between Li and Ren in Confucius' "Analects"

# data[].attributes.subject
10.5 Li as Cultural Grammar: On the Relation between Li and Ren in Confucius' "Analects"

# data[].attributes.body
This paper challenges the conventional understanding of the relation between ren (humanity) and li (propriety), and presents an alternative picture: li as cultural grammar, and ren as mastery of a culture.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Li as Cultural Grammar: On the Relation between Li and Ren in Confucius' "Analects" on JSTOR

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Chenyang Li, Li as Cultural Grammar: On the Relation between Li and Ren in Confucius' "Analects", Philosophy East and West, Vol. 57, No. 3, Ninth East-West Philosophers' Conference (Jul., 2007), pp. 311-329

# data[].attributes.body
What is Dao and why do the ancient Chinese philosophers debate over it? Chad Hansen explores these questions in depth.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
"Believing in Dào" - Chad Hasen  4-22-21

# data[].attributes.body
This article explores Daoism, one of China's principal religious and philosophical systems, tracing its origins to Laozi and Zhuangzi, and discusses its development through various interpretations, from philosophical to religious, while emphasizing its core focus on the nature of dao (way) and its implications for ethics, governance, and personal conduct.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Definitions of Daoism are controversial because of the complex twists in its development as it played its role in the long history of China. Even the coining of the term creates ambiguity about what counts as 'Daoism'. Three to seven centuries after they were supposed to have lived, Han dynasty (around 100 BCE) historians identified Laozi and Zhuangzi as Daoists. The historians postulated six schools of classical thought-Confucian, Mohist, Yin-yang, Legalist, Daoist and school of names. They coined the term dao-jia ( way-school) or ( dao-de jia) (way and virtue school) and came to identify Laozi and Zhuangzi as paradigms of the study of dao. Other texts were linked by their incorporation of themes from the two classics including the Liehzi, the Baopuzi and the Huinanzi. After it was linked to the interpretation of the Laozi by Wang Bi, the Yijing came to be thought of as a classic of Daoism.

The Qin had brought a sudden end to the institutions that generated the sophisticated classical period of Chinese philosophy. At first, their ideologies, "Legalist" and Huang-Lao thought, dominated an impoverished intellectual life. When the Han Dynasty began trying to reconstruct China's classical history , its historians coined the term "Daoism," probably thinking of Huang-Lao content. However, they implicitly fixed its reference by pointing to Laozi and Zhuangzi as exemplars. So an operative definition of philosophical Daoism could be "what Laozi and Zhuangzi taught" leaving details to interpretation. Other early Han writers using their own interpretations, cribbed and copied from the original texts but, under Huang-Lao influence, exhibited little further philosophical reflection. The products of this "recovery" have also come to be thought of as Daoist texts and include the Huinanzi (around 140 BCE) and the Liezi (third Century AD) and the Yijing. The operative definition if we included these texts would, of course, change.

During the early Han, Confucianism became an official orthodoxy. Quasi-supernatural cosmological speculation (five-phase theory and portentology) dominated Han thought and the intellectual lives of Chinese thinkers for four centuries. When the Han declined, the sterile Confucianism lost much of its appeal to intellectuals who turned to Lao-Zhuang for fresh inspiration-but now read through cosmological Confucian lenses. Western scholars identify this movement as Neo-Daoist but since it fixed the enduring forms of a "traditional text" and provided the first systematic commentaries, that cosmological conception has come to dominate traditional Chinese views of Daoism. The Neo-Daoist movement also overlapped and facilitated the introduction and spread of Buddhism in China. Neo-Daoist discourse practices were vehicles for the conceptually alien Buddhist ideas and Daoism probably influenced the emergence of distinctively Chinese forms of Buddhism, particularly Chan (Zen). This development so blended Neo-Daoism and Mahayana Buddhism in the intellectual consciousness that the Neo-Confucians eventually took the two to be essentially similar religious-metaphysical outlooks.

Meantime, "Daoist" religious groups adopted the institutions of Buddhism (Nuns, monks, monasteries etc.) and became linked to martial-arts, to alchemy, and to popular movements (often rebellious or millenarian movements) that emerged in subsequent dynasties. Because of Daoism's "naturalistic" and anti-authoritarian ethos, its inherent focus on "ways," the term 'Daoism' could encompass virtually any such movement or "local" religion with its familiar natural "Gods." 'Daoist' is a natural characterization of the ideology behind any non-Confucian or anti-conformist strains of thought. The result is that 'Religious Daoism' has become a deeply malleable concept. Creel's famous question "What is Taoism?" (1970) remains as difficult as ever for Daoist religion. We defer to scholars of religion to sort out the conceptual limits of Daoist religion and baldly focus on what philosophical content can be extracted from the classical exemplars: Laozi and Zhuangzi.

This somewhat arbitrary conceptual division leaves ample ambiguity to sort out in interpretation. The two texts, in both style in content, invite lines of elaboration that are congenial to the religious impulse and those that are more philosophical. That is partly because the subject matter of religion and philosophy overlap. We distinguish philosophy from religion better by pointing to philosophy's disciplinary commitment to reflectively warranted norms guiding its theorizing and its critical assessment of theories. The norms themselves are subject to discursive, norm guided reflection and revision-which gives philosophy the familiar open, "meta" character that underwrites its image as "thinking about thinking." Relatively religious approaches (even within philosophy) rely on appeals to "higher" transcendent or hyper-human perspectives to guide thinking. This disciplinary difference in the approach to areas of overlap, e.g., metaphysics and ethics, emerges from philosophy's relatively greater focus on logic and epistemology.

Traditional accounts of Daoism deal with two areas of overlap: metaphysics and ethics. Philosophical interpretations that are hospitable to religious movements include transcendent monism, mysticism, and ethical intuitionism or supernaturalism (identifying right with attitudes of transcendent ethical judges). Absent a Chinese or Daoist logic, the challenge for a more critical philosophical view is showing that Daoists took a reflective, second level, meta-stance in discussing these issues and how (or whether) the more religious conclusions could survive reflection according to the norms of reasoning enshrined in the philosophical high-tide of the classical period of thought. Is there a classical basis for a warranted Chinese skepticism and could the more credulous readings of the text withstand the critical challenge of such a skepticism? The central sections of this article will trace the conceptual basis for a fully philosophical interpretation of the two core texts of Daoism while pointing out along the way where the more religious readings find footing in the texts. The effects of these religious readings will be traced in surveying later Daoist movements and impacts.

Though tradition has treated Laozi and Zhuangzi as the Socrates and Plato of 'Daoism,' the use of Lao-Zhuang to identify a strain of thought may have become common only as with Neo-Daoism in the 3 rd Century AD. Not only is it true that "Zhuangzi never knew he was a Daoist", (Graham 1981, 128) he probably also didn't know anything about the Laozi. However, writers responsible for later chapters of the Zhuangzi established the first connection between the two texts. A large chunk of the "outer" chapters use the character of Laozi as spokesman for a closely related meta-ethical position and occasionally echoes the style and attitudes of the Daode Jing- though it seldom quotes directly from any extant version. Common themes, tropes and modes of expression seem to link the authors of the outer chapters with Daode Jing. One plausible speculation is that anonymous students of the Zhuangzi, working after his death, were "developing" the Zhuangzi text while in contact with the group anonymously composing the Daode Jing. They seemingly shaped each other's themes, expressions and ideas. See further discussion in Texts and Textual Theory.

The underlying basis for our distinction between the philosophical and religious poles is epistemic. Both species of Daoism start from a common critique of "ordinary" knowing of dao. From this mildly skeptical or relativist base, philosophical Daoism tends toward pluralism, perspectivalism, skepticism, political equality and freedom. Religious "mysticism" usually is accompanied by a credulous assertion of supernatural epistemic abilities-control of some abstruse or magical way of overcoming skepticism. This is often explained by a supposed Daoist correlate of Confucian cultivation and the sage. It is typically the associated with some intuitive or "superlative" direct access to a single correct dao. As its special insight cannot be justified to those with "ordinary" perspectives and/or cannot be put into language and argument, it tends to generate the esoteric, hierarchical and authoritarian attitudes familiar in religions as well as the institutions that initiate and cultivate the common human into the idealized adept.

The Confucian-like emphasis on "cultivating" this special epistemic ability, obediently following teachers and traditions contrasts with the philosophical strain's emphasis on natural spontaneity, freedom and egalitarianism which seems to Confucians like a plea for anarchy. This is because in the context of Ancient China, the assumed role of government is cultivating moral character, that is, instilling the same moral dao in everyone whether by education, attraction or force. (The gap between the religious and philosophical versions of the political attitudes can be partially closed if it treats the content of the transcendent dao as egalitarian, empty or anarchist-hence available equally to all with no need of hierarchy or training).

Confucianism argues that the shared interest in cultivating a hyper-normal epistemic status means that Confucianism and Daoism are ultimately compatible. Both have at their core a dogmatic asseveration of their "special," cultivated ability of direct (not mediated by language or reasons) access to the single, correct, dao -which cannot be cast in the form of "fixed" principles. So even if they disagree about the ethical details, they share a similarly anti-skeptical, unreflective authoritarian epistemology. The supposedly shared presupposition is the possibility of mysteriously cultivating an infallible or superhuman intuitive guidance system. The question is: can an asserted commitment to that view survive the the philosophical arguments found in two Daoist texts-the worrisome sections that fuel skeptical or relativist interpretations? Insofar as they can answer those arguments in justifying their claims to special access, such tendencies in dogmatic absolutist directions can still count as 'philosophical'. We draw the line distinguishing philosophy from religion where the claim to special insight rests on simple assertion, unexplained intuition, special pleading, appeal to either authority or "revelation" or naïve supernaturalism.

The domination of Confucianism in Chinese intellectual life has brought with it the wide acceptance of this "friendly" orthodox religious interpretation of Daoism. History does little to settle which line of interpretation is "original" since lines of thought leading in each direction can be found in early classical sources. This difficulty is compounded by the diffidence of the writing styles in both the Daode Jing and the Zhuangzi-which is so marked that it is often tempting to suspect the writers intended to be ambiguous, to invite divergent interpretation as an object lesson in the "inconstancy" of any discourse-based dao. Conceivably, therefore, both trends may have drawn "support" from reading the early texts as expressing ideas compatible with their own. See Origins of Daoism.

The plethora of strains of Daoism makes any specific content attributed to philosophical Daoism controversial to others who are equally attracted to the texts and their ideas. Treatments range from interpreting Daoism as a sophisticated metaethical position rooted in analytic studies of language tending toward ethical skepticism and relativism at one end and "praising" Daoism as an anti-logical, deliberately self-contradictory mysticism-a cultural rebuke of Western rationality-at the other. Despite (or because of?) their "Rorschach" quality, the two main texts remain among the most popular in Chinese philosophy. No one doubts their literary qualities and attractive style which, combined with their lighthearted humor, leaves readers with a compelling inkling that these texts are somehow philosophically profound. See the section Philosophical Daoism: A Primer.

This entry will focus on exploring that hint of philosophical depth in Daoism and touch on the familiar religious interpretations mainly for context and contrast. We will look at a range of loosely related philosophical positions and some of the interpretive theory fueling them. The philosophical side of Daoism takes the ru-mo Confucianism-Mohism debate about dao as a model of what goes wrong in trying to formulate a "constant dao ." This critique takes the form of metaethics-a study of the nature or metaphysics of dao as well as dao's knowability and objectivity as well as the pragmatics of dispute about dao. This strategy generates a distinctive analysis of key normative concepts of Ancient China. See the section Important Daoist Concepts.

Philosophical Daoist interest in dao ways:guides is thus distinct from the first-order normative focus of Confucians and Mohists, who certainly used the word dao as often as did the classical Daoist thinkers. We distinguish Daoism here as meta-theorizing rather than direct advocacy of some first-order dao . Often the reflections have (or seem to have) implications for how to choose which first-order dao to follow (or whether to abandon all of them). Meta-reflection constitutes the umbrella that covers this wide range of first-order options and the meta-positions include nihilism, relativism, skepticism, intuitionism, mysticism, primitivism, value contrarianism and naturalist stoicism. Echoes of all these can be found in both texts-often, as we noted, as if the various contributors to the texts were divided on what follows from such a philosophical ascent to meta-critique. The metaethical views also motivate some of the commonly attributed first-order political daos, e.g., daos of suspicion of political authority (anarchism), social convention and traditional mores. The philosophical focus thus construes Daoism as a meta-level challenge to Confucianism, while the religious focus tends to treat it as a sibling-with similar emphasis on cultivation, direct intuition, sages and a prosaic interest only in guilelessly asserting their alternative first-order normative dao.

Ancient Chinese thinkers discussed mainly three parts of dao: human (or social) dao, tian dao, and great dao. When I instruct you to put your hand on your partner's head, I am delivering some human dao. Human dao is typically enshrined in a language-which may include the language of planning. Human daos are normative space-time structures- recommended possible histories. Natural dao (often translated heavenly dao) is akin to what we would consider the constancies of science. It is the ways things reliably (constantly) have happened and will happen. Great dao refers to the entire actual history of everything-whatever has happened, is happening or actually will happen in the universe constitutes the great dao.

Daoists, however, do not formulate these categories explicitly-partly because they may seem to overlap. A form of determinism, for example, would treat tian dao and great dao as identical-the laws of nature make only one world-history possible. Common sense indeterminism would regard many possible world histories as consistent with tian dao. In general, however, it is best to think of Great dao as simply the counterpart of Wittgenstein's "All that is the case"-the extended actual space-time world. One of the insights of the Zhuangzi, not as clearly reflected in the Laozi, is that human dao is embedded in, part of and consistent with, both great dao and natural dao ( tian dao).

Daoist philosophers typically express their doubts about first-order human dao (paradigmatically Confucian and Mohist dao) by considering them in relation to natural dao and/or great dao (the actual dao). This plays on the tendency of rival schools of ancient Chinese moralists to treat tian as the authority for their favored human daos. Mature Daoist analysis centers on the insight that while human daos are normative, neither the natural nor the actual dao are. Natural dao and Great dao are " constant" while human dao are inherently changeable and subject to interpretation. This insight is most famously expressed in the first line of the Daode Jing " dao that can dao are not constant dao."

Given the shared ru-mo Confucian-Mohist assumption that normative authority for their competing first-order daos comes from some form of endorsement by tian, Daoists aver that nature does not authorize or endorse any particular social dao. This claim has two versions: pluralist and primitivist. Denying that it endorses a particular one is compatible with its allowing either many or none. The nihilistic answer might take the form of an assertion that reality is an amorphous chaos and all dao s impose an illusory or unreal social structure on Chaos. This version, however, has no obvious normative implications.

To answer "none" and still treat tian as the normative authority generates a dichotomy between human and natural dao. The metaphysical type of human social dao is guiding discourse, so this line of thought motivates Daoist "silence"-the notorious reluctance to use language. The philosophical quietism is also motivational and intentional quietism-essentially an extreme form of stoicism. This treats accepting natural dao as not using guidance or identifying the "highest" guidance with "whatever happens" the quintessential position of Shen Dao. Technically, however, Shen Dao does not formulate a doctrine of determinism (the identity of naturally possible dao and the actual "Great" dao. The appearance of fatalism comes from concluding that we have no moral responsibility-to enact the Great dao in our actions.

The Zhuangzi strain, informed by contact with Chinese philosophy of language, recognized that a blanket anti-language position was self-censuring. The instruction not to follow any dao is itself a dao and thus enjoins against following itself-a prescriptive paradox. The pluralist reading is that all de facto rival practices are natural daos in virtue of their being actual practices. Human daos in general are a part of natural dao. That they "are walked" shows they are, in that sense, compatible with natural constancies. Similarly, all actual rival daos are part of great dao simply in virtue of being followed-as the Zhuangzi says, " dao s are made by walking them".

Both pluralist and primitivist Daoism would reject the Confucian-Mohist conclusion that political authority should be used to bring about a harmony of daos-making everyone follow a single dao. The social world survives as well (or better) when people follow different ways of life. Focus on either tian dao or Great dao helps to undermine the sense that it is imperative to master or impose any particular first-order dao. Tian dao, like great dao justifies no particular judgment whatever.

The primitivist version of Daoism, however, can religiously take a more assertive form that nature does endorse a particular normative dao, albeit not a human one (particularly one in discourse form). There is a single, constant, correct way of life that cannot be expressed or presented in practices, rules, narratives, maps, examples, songs or any other human or social form of communication and advocacy. It implicitly must be a super-human dao accessed via super-human epistemic capacities-mystical or esoteric dao. Though it is usually expressed as the natural dao, there is no obvious reason why there might not be multiple super-human dao s.

A different version of the primitivist interpretive line is that there are fully natural ways but that they require finer or more complex discriminations than normal humans are capable of. Humans could follow them, as it were, by luck or accident, but not reliably via any learnable pattern. If one subtracts the claims to superhuman epistemic capacities, then an interpretive hypothesis would yield a combination of both natural realism and skepticism. Still another possibility would be of naturalistic ways to do something that are humanly accessible-but in different ways to each different human or in each situation. There would be no learnable social formula that could be of any use and no one's having successfully done it could count as "knowing" it in the sense of being reliably able to do it again or in the sense of being able to teach others. In that case, the interpretation would be both realistic and relativist and mildly skeptical-most of us don't actually know and, though in principle we could do it on occasions, no one could know a reliable shareable process or content for acquiring that dao.

A contrarian version expresses itself via deliberate flaunting or "reversing" all the norms and attitudes in the conventional dao. Laozi's is the most famous example of this dao of reversal, though overtones can be found in Zhuangzi's description of "the perfect" person or ability as one that is so incomprehensible and so irrelevant to our concerns that he appears as the opposite whatever we normally respect. The political consequence is still a government guided by a discourse dao-the systematic reversal of the dominant Confucian dao.

Relativist (pluralist) or skeptical versions need not deny that there are norms for endorsing some daos over others, but would acknowledge that the norms of endorsing a dao constitute a distinct dao that we presuppose in choosing it. This meta-dao, by hypothesis, is also natural in being "actual" so the relativism involved need not be irrealism. Such relativism deserves the 'Daoist' appellation on the further ground that it entails that normative authority comes from higher-level dao, not from the Confucian-Mohist tian. However, actual nature gives us many candidate daos. It's conclusion, thus, is not that we should flaunt or violate nature, but that we simply cannot flaunt it. Any of the options actually available to us for guidance are components of both the natural and Great daos. Hence, "follow the natural dao" is empty (tautological) as a normative guide-a dao that does not dao. Whatever dao we choose will be a natural one, in virtue of being one we in fact can choose and "walk".

Despite the divergence in these versions of Daoism, all can claim to underwrite a theme of harmony with nature-the pluralist sees the point of such harmony as permissive and tolerant, while the primitivist sees it as a more intolerant rejection or prohibition of any conventional dao.

Metaphysically, Daoism is naturalistic in that any first-order moral dao must be rooted in natural ways. It doesn't characterize the natural dao as either physical or mental. Like the varieties of metaphysical naturalism that eschew both a commitment to realism or anti-realism, it simply accepts natural dao without a separate theory of whether it is real or not.

Much of the thrust of Daoism, as we have seen, naturally motivates a reaction against the moralistic and elitist inclinations of Confucianism. Confucianism stood for a rigid, detailed, traditional pattern of hierarchical social behavior. Duties were assigned to all of one's social roles-and a person typically had many such roles, e.g., husband, father, minister, younger brother, teacher, student, etc. One could escape this heavy scheme of obligations mainly in retirement or, paradoxically, the traditional duty to spend three years "in mourning" for the death of one's father. The withdrawal from society, the antipathy toward ritual roles, traditional "morality," and any social structures or traditional culture suggests a kind of Daoist "ethos" as an antithesis to Confucianism in China. We can trace the origin of Daoism, accordingly, in two ways. One is attitudinal, the other theoretical. The theoretical mark of Daoism is an interest in the meaning or nature of dao which may inform or encourage Daoist attitudes. In view of the religious strain, however, we have to recognize two attitudes as marks of proto-Daoism in China. The first is the vague reaction against the demanding scheme of traditional Confucian rules. The second is interest in techniques for cultivating the adept to achieve an elevated epistemic status resulting in with some special or transcendent access to a dao that is impenetrable to those who have not had this "cultivation."

Traditionally scholars have traced the first "Daoist spirit" back to "proto-Daoist" hermits who crop up sporadically in the Analects, confronting Confucius and his disciples as they traveled to or fled from various rulers. Their approximate message was an early version of Yangist purification by withdrawal from society. Robert Eno argues that Confucius himself had a heavy dose of this "Daoist" attitude and his "political" theory was actually a justification of his staying remote from government-at least until a sage is in power! This attitude tends to be expressed as anti-moral or amoral mainly because it targets a Confucian conception that systematically elides morality and conventional mores. It also seems to include some of the attitudes that led to the agriculturalists with their opposition to the division of labor, the differential social status and ranks to which it gives rise. These, however, seem to involve no meta-theory of dao of the type traced in the Zhuangzi history although they can be seen as early indications of the value of Daoist egalitarianism and impartiality.

Others credited as precursors of Daoism seemed to reflect a version of the moralists' confidence that they had achieved some non-linguistic or intuitive access to a dao that resists "ordinary" formulation. It amounts to direct access to what, for ordinary people, is the product of interpreting a first order dao. Thus it lacks the inherent vagueness of a formulaic dao. The Confucian value of ren is the moralists' most prominent manifestation of this tendency. Such intuitionism, while cursorily evading interpretive variability, led instead to insoluble conflicts of authority. They disagreed with each other about who else had such access and any attempt to resolve that transmuted into an attempt to formulate or theorize about the intuition, thus threatening to abandon their hard won interpretive constancy. This is because the common formulation of these disputes constitutes a theory or dao of how to cultivate the unerring interpretive access to other dao.

Hal Roth emphasizes this line of thought and follows Graham in linking it to two recently prominent chapters of an early Legalist text, the Guanzi ( neiye inward training and xin shu heart-mind methods ). The writers claim to have achieved this direct access to dao and Roth links the "achievement" to evidence of early Chinese interests in meditative practices including breath control, fasting (and notoriously wine and possibly other hallucinogens). Victor Mair, suggests that Yogic techniques, already transmitted from India, played this role. The epistemic commitment both hypotheses impute to their proto-Daoists, however, is that these techniques help achieve incorruptible practical access to the correct normative dao. Usually this access was direct and unmediated by language or culture. So they might echo the anarchists rejection of rules or principles but for quite different reasons, i.e., that they can neither formulate nor inferentially defend their intuitively "correct" dao.

The inferred interpretive reliability in this stream of Daoism reflects a kind of impartiality, the irresolvability of rival claims to infallible practical guidance threatens that goal. It can be developed in an egalitarian way (i.e., everyone has such immediate, unerring guidance) that also removes any conflict by inviting a radically subjective relativism or romantic, primitivist optimism. But it is more routinely developed into esoteric and authoritative directions, requiring adepts to subject themselves to the some version of the dogmatic cultivation techniques. Both may, however, share Daoism's implicit enmity toward the first-order moralists and Daoism may draw from its suspicion of traditional texts and normative precepts.

There can be little doubt that this dogmatic, self-congratulatory trend of "authoritarian intuitionism" existed in classical thinking. One can, however, doubt that it is either a necessary or sufficient distinguisher of Daoism. It finds a more comfortable home in proto-Legalist texts and arguably blends the ingredients of Huang-Lao ruler-worship. It is also quite obviously manifest in authoritarian and intuitionistic Confucianism with its emphasis on cultivation. Confucian interpretations, like religious ones, typically treat Daoists as making Confucian-style, elitist cultivation claims.

Philosophical interpretations are naturally less comfortable taking these authoritarians as forerunners of Daoism and usually require some version of them that pushes them toward relativism or optimistic primitivism. The esoteric or authoritarian developments seem too cavalierly to brush-off the skeptical doubts that generated philosophical reflection on dao and the impulse to seek an impartial resolution. A characteristically religious excuse for coercive indoctrination is available. After "proper cultivation," the rebellious person would "see" and appreciate their wisdom in thus coercing him. Thus the Huang-Lao tradition could mesh with the authoritarian Confucian and Legalist elites who dominated the Han. With the Mawang Dui discovery (see Texts and Textual Theory) came more evidence of Huang-Lao theory. Just how far back its history extends into the classical period remains controversial. It was highly influential in the Qin and Han, when it seemed to be highly favored by the superstitious rulers. Han historians categorized many of the figures in the Daoist history as students of Huang-Lao.

Ultimately, the philosophical question is whether these assertions of intuitionist access would or would not be refuted by the skeptical arguments that Zhuangzi directed against the Confucians. Given their similarities, it's difficult to imagine how these religious conclusions could escape his analysis. Modern champions of irrationalist Daoism, of course, would not be disturbed by this inconsistency, of course, since, they allege, that Daoists refuse to think logically. Finally, like the attitudinal Daoist stream, the authoritarian intuition approach deals with the epistemology of access to dao rather than to an analysis of its nature and how insight into that nature can illuminate and correct disputes about first order dao.

We have alluded to the earliest known "history of thought" in ancient China comprising Chapter 33 ( Tianxia under heaven ) of the Zhuangzi. It surveys the streams of thought leading from the "ancients" (the Chinese golden age?) to Zhuangzi. After introducing the idealized ancient dao, it implies a "fall," then lists a series of groups of thinkers, each striving for impartial objectivity, leading eventually to a Laozi group and then to Zhuangzi.

The list takes key thinkers to be motivated by goals of neutrality, universality, freedom from bias and natural "spontaneity" in action. The list starts with a group that includes Mozi (universal, impartial utilitarians), then discusses anti-conventionalists headed by Song Xing, third came Shen Dao's group (metaphysical anti-knowledge stoics), then Laozi and Zhuangzi. Its last topic however is not Zhuangzi but his friend and frequent philosophical debating companion, Hui Shi, who along with other members of the school of names, is introduced mainly for condemnation as if (contrary to all other evidence) he were irrelevant to the motivation and understanding of Zhuangzi's thought. Clearly, we can use this history only with some caution. It does serve as a "manifest history of thought" that helps us appreciate the philosophical agenda of the writer. We, however, must blend this internal Daoist history with external information about these groups and their thought to get a plausible explanatory justification for the classic Zhuangzi position.

Initially, it is a surprise to see Mozi listed as a "forerunner" of Daoism since in many respects, passages in the Zhuangzi take the Mohist dispute with Confucianism as a critical target (examples of question-begging rival first-order theories of dao). However, in both our theoretical senses, Daoism could be said to have roots in the anti-Confucian Mozi (5 th Century BCE). First, his early challenge to Confucianism initiated higher level philosophical reflections on dao, its role and the kind of thinking it involved. Mozi, for example, theorized that a dao should be constant, not a matter of a special history or arbitrary social convention. He supported his use of a utilitarian standard to evaluate social daos on grounds of the impartiality and constancy of the benefit-harm distinction. He taught this "constant" feature of utilitarianism was evidence that it was tian standard. He thought of this as an objective fa for making distinctions.

Mozi's challenge to Confucianism focused on his crucial insight that the fact that traditional norms are our own, do not warrant taking them as correct. Mozi thus launched the meta-search for a way impartially to select a first-order dao. He formulates the initial version of the goal of unbiased, constant universality in morality. Both of these results, further, involved important theoretical insights into the concept of dao. The Mohists developed much of the terminology of analysis that other Chinese thinkers, including Mencius and Zhuangzi, adopted. (See Concepts.) Zhuangzi deployed this language with considerable skill in his skeptical undermining of all claims to special moral authority.

However, Mohism did advocate a first order normative dao and followed Confucianism in the assumption that an orderly society needs to follow a single constant dao. Though they developed an account of how to justify a dao and first formulated the standard of dao adequacy (constancy). What they did not notice was that those standards constituted a meta- dao-a dao for selecting and interpreting a first-order dao. This reflects their failure to reflect on the nature of dao, and then to address whether and how such a dao was knowable. They disagreed with Confucianism mainly on the content of the dao to be imposed on society by authority while addressing only from their own perspective how that disagreement should be resolved. Theoretical Daoism focused on the insolubility of this ru-mo Confucian-Mohist debate.

We know far less of the doctrine of the next figure cited in the development-Song Xing. Our main sources are the Zhuangzi description here and a lengthy attack on Song Xing in the Xunzi . He is said to have specialized in a theory of the xin and to have argued that socialization in conventional attitudes injected destructive values into the heart. The qing yu are relatively few and easy to satisfy. Socialization creates a plethora of desires for "social goods" such as status, reputation, and pride. Song Xin suggested that the conventional values, because of their social, comparative nature incite competition and then violence. The way to social order is for people to eliminate these socialize ambitions, which create attitudes of resentment and anger. Hence his slogan that being insulted (conventional value) is no ( qing) disgrace. The slogan aims to eliminate the violence occasioned by "honor and moral rectitude." In effect, names do not harm me.

Mozi had also seen different daos as a source of conflict, but advocated unifying the social dao rather than abandoning it. The abandonment theme is developed with some skill in Laozi's Daode Jing. It has roots in the search for impartiality and universality that also motivated Mozi since it contrasts changeable social values with pre-social or natural ones. The theme, however can have both elitist, dogmatic and supernatural elaborations. We might treat the ability to forget social conditioning (returning to nature) as something only some are capable of, ignore the self-rebutting threat of the attempt, and romanticize the abilities or moral purity that would result from removing socialization.

Zhuangzi built on a related view-that people develop different moral attitudes from different natural upbringings and each feels his own views are obvious and natural. But his version treats all as equally natural, not regarding some as more able than others to avoid being "blinded by socialization." Zhuangzi also adopts a closely related view of how xin is shaped by socialization. So there is a role for Song Xing, along with Mozi in the motivations for Daoist theorizing. However, again we find little hint that Song Xing reflected on the concept of dao itself and how it is involved in this analysis of how society injects attitudes into xin.

The first plausible candidate for a theoretical Daoist comes next in the Zhuangzi historical survey. We will pick Shen Dao as the best-known representative of this group of scholars. He is sometimes included in the list of Huang-Lao thinkers and cited as a source of Legalist thinking. We will not attempt here to reconcile this latter with the essentially Daoist view presented in the Zhuangzi history. Shen Dao's theory (perhaps unwittingly) lays the foundation for Daoism's rejecting the authority of tian in favor of dao. (In religious language, we can describe this as worshipping dao rather than tian.) The key insight here is that (like God and Nature) appeal to tian is normatively empty. All authority presupposes some dao. (God's moral authority presupposes we accept a dao of "obey God.") The Later Mohists dialecticians also noticed this problem. They even more clearly argue that the appeal to tian could justify the thief as well as the sage.

Here is the Zhuangzi "Tianxia" account of Shen Dao's group:

For the general public, not cliques; changing and without selfishness; decisive but without any control; responsive to things without dividing in two. Not absorbed with reflection. Not calculating in knowing how. Not choosing among natural kinds and flowing along with them.

They took bonding all the natural kinds together as the key. They said, " tian constancies can cover but cannot sustain; Earthly cycles can sustain but cannot cover it. Great dao can embrace it but cannot distinguish it." We know the myriad natural kinds all have both that which is acceptable and that which is unacceptable. So they said, "If you select then you cannot be comprehensive, if you teach you cannot convey all of it. Dao does not leave anything out."

Hence Shen Dao "abandoned knowledge and discarded 'self'." He flowed with the inevitable and was indifferent to natural kinds ... . He lived together with shi and fei, mixed acceptable and avoidable. He didn't treat knowing and deliberation as guides, didn't know front from back. He was indifferent to everything.

If he was pushed he went, if pulled he followed-like a leaf whirling in the stream, like a feather in a wind, like dust on a millstone. He was complete and distinguished ( fei) nothing ... . So he said, "reach for being like things without knowledge of what to do. Don't use worthies and sages. Even a clod of earth cannot miss Dao."

The worthy officials all laughed at him and said, "Shen Dao's dao does not lead to the conduct of a living man but the tendency of a dead man. It is really very strange... ." ( Zhuangzi Ch. 33)

Shen Dao's conception of great dao reminds us of the actual world among possible worlds-it is the actual history of the universe. Shen Dao avers that there is just one such total history-one actual past and one actual future. The actual is, obviously, natural so the great dao (the natural pattern of behaviors, events and processes) requires no learning, no knowledge, no language or shi-fei this-not this distinctions. "Even a clod of earth cannot miss the great dao." Shen Dao's insight undermines all these guiding schemes that claim tian approval as justification. The crucial implication of his approach is that great dao has no normative force. To say "follow great dao" is as trivial as "do what you actually will do." When we think of dao as the actual course of all nature, it is obvious we will follow it.

This reasoning drives Shen Dao's slightly different stoicism. His slogan was "abandon knowledge; discard self." "Abandon knowledge" means do not guide your behavior using prescriptive discourse-a learned dao. "Discard self" prescribes the corollary that even Yang Zhu's dao of self-preservation is not natural. Our death is part of great dao-down to its very moment. Egoistic guidance is a dao similarly committed to right-wrong, normative guiding distinctions rooted in a distinction between 'self' and 'other'. It recommends a particular possible future history. So to abandon knowledge is to also discard ' self ' as a prescriptive term-to give up using 'self-other' as a guiding distinction. Yangzhu's egoism violates Shen Dao's anti-language naturalism as much as does Confucius's traditionalism or Mozi's utilitarianism.

Why does Shen Dao think we should give up guiding ourselves by shared moral prescriptions? His stoic attitude and some of his slogans suggest that like the Stoics, he was a fatalist. However Shen Dao's argument has no predictive capacity or law-like basis. It is simply logical determinism: "what will be will be." The account above also has no hint of any concept of free will, but Shen Dao does advocate a parallel to giving up moral responsibility. We should not make shi-fei this-not this judgments. Consequently, he should not be saying that we should follow the great dao, because that would be to shi whatever actually happens. He avoids this inconsistency and thus is not committed to the Stoic view that the natural/actual course of events is rational or good. It simply happens.

However, another inconsistency is rampant in Shen Dao's theory of great dao. In using the notion of the actual dao to motivate avoiding any prescriptive discourse, Shen Dao is saying to Confucians and Mohists, "if you allege to speak for the nature of things, say nothing!" Nature does not prescribe. What about Shen Dao's naturalism itself, however? Is it other than "natural" (and part of great dao) that humans use language to coordinate behavior, to order their interactions, to accumulate and transmit knowledge? Further, his injunction against shi-fei judgments is an injunction-a negative prescription. His "slogan" is expressed as a guide, as something we can learn and follow. "Abandon knowledge" amounts to a prescriptive paradox. The concept of knowledge it uses is prescriptive knowledge. In form and intent, it is a prescription-a dao. If we obey it, we disobey it. This is our first example of Daoist paradox! Shen Dao's dao is a dao that can't dao us.

The Zhuangzi history, where we find this account of Shen Dao's doctrine, criticizes Shen Dao's position along these lines. Still, it places Shen Dao in the dialectic just before Laozi, who directly precedes Zhuangzi. Laozi has a different line of reasoning to "abandon knowledge." He avoids the fatalist implications-and, with it implicitly, the concept of great dao as a guide (though he keeps tian dao). We can view the Laozi persona as combining Song Xing and Shen Dao. His reason to "abandon knowledge" is that knowledge is a form of social control that instills unnatural desires, stimulates unnatural action thus it constrains and distorts natural spontaneity. The Zhuangzi ordering is theoretically informative, though chronologically inaccurate.

We will discuss, here, mainly the contributions the Laozi makes to this Daoist dialectic. For a more complete and detailed treatment of the philosophy of the text, see the entry under Laozi.

The Zhuangzi history lists Laozi (along with Guan Yin) between Shen Dao and Zhuangzi. Whatever its actual date and manner of composition, the Laozi is assigned a role in the development of Zhuangzi's thought that best fits in that slot. The most famous line of Daoist meta-theory of dao opens the Daode Jing. " Dao that can be dao-ed is not constant dao." Though the text betrays no hint of exposure to the School of Names, this famous slogan is duplicated with ming replacing dao. It thus shifts the focus of meta-discourse about dao from grounding its authority in nature to issues of language and the role of ming in dao-ing. Since words are not constant, no dao that can be conveyed using words can be.

What is being denied in saying such dao are not constant? The text does not elaborate on the concept, however the issue in ancient Chinese thought emerges as the crux of the dispute between Mohists and Confucians. Mohists attempted to regiment the debate by insisting on fa for interpreting guiding language. They argued tian nature:sky's standard lies in the distinction between benefit and harm-which was by association a constant standard. The writers of the Confucian Analects inclined toward a notion of an administrator "rectifying names." A name is rectified when an instruction containing it (a ritual or a law) correctly guides peoples action. "If names are not rectified ... people will not know how to move hand or foot" ( Analects 13:3). The typical Confucian way of rectifying a name is to set an example-either of correct use of the term or correct action in following a dao that contains the term.

So what is Laozi denying when he is made to say "names that can be named are not constant names?" The skepticism here can be read in two ways. One is there is no correct way to use a name so contrary to Mohism, no standard is "nature's" constant standard of choice of a dao. The other reading is interpretive-no pattern of correct past use (no social practice) uniquely determines what concrete behavior counts as correct here-now ( or in the future). So, as Mozi had argued, tradition cannot determine what is the correct dao, but, the Laozi seems to add, that is so even presupposing a tradition. There is no constant (correct) way to interpret that practice/ dao into action.

The negative result may be read in several ways.

1. It may be pure nihilism-there is no such thing as correct dao.

2. It may be skepticism-correct dao can never be known;

3. Or as anti-language-correct dao cannot be put in words or conveyed as guidance to another.

Adopting readings 2 or 3 doesn't remove all paradox from Laozi's position. Laozi is still left with his variation on Shen Dao's "abandon knowledge." The text, however, does develop a different motivation for it. We find few traces of Shen Dao's fatalistic or stoic reasoning. Laozi's opposition to knowledge derives more from Song Xing's insights about how social knowledge shapes our values and desires. We can attribute to the Laozi the next development in Chinese pragmatics of language, how language shapes action.

Laozi draws illustrations using ming (word) pairs-opposites. He draws analogies between naming and cutting or "carving" (hence the symbol of the nameless simplicity -uncarved, raw wood). When we learn a way of using a word (e.g. watching teachers "rectify" names) we internalize a community practice of "cutting" stuff and assigning names to the portions. This is how we pick out how to act-what to pick up, put down, go toward and so on. We interpret a dao by dividing things up into types. We learn this in concrete practice as we avoid or pursue the things named. Thus, with the names we acquire a disposition to behavior toward that type-we acquire a socialized value or desire for one of the two discriminants. These acquired desires then shape our wei deeming:action .

Much of the further reasoning found in the Laozi follows that of Song Xing. The artificially created desires lead to unnecessary competition and strife. When we see that they are not natural, acquiring socialized desires (e.g. for status, reputation, for rare objects) starts to look ill advised. He hints at places that acquiring the system of names dulls our capacity for appreciation or reaction to nature-"the five colors blind the eye ..." ( Daode Jing Ch. 12). And most important, acquiring knowledge in this way is losing the natural spontaneity and becoming subject to social control.

The text, accordingly, entices us to free ourselves from this system signified by the slogan wu-wei lack-action . We are to set about forgetting all our socialization and return to the state of a newborn babe. The slogan is famously paradoxical and is even formulated in the text in a paradoxical way-"lack acting and yet lack 'don't-act'."

The bulk of the Daode Jing is thus given over to motivating this paradoxical attitude. Its familiar strategy centers on the notion of "reversal." In passage after passage, advice is given that reverses conventional values (usu. in Confucian-Mohist discourse)-either rejecting the usual positive value term (benevolence, sages, morality, social activism) or motivating valuing the opposite (non-being, water, the female, the lower position etc.).

The result is a fascinating exercise in normative advocacy including Laozi's famous political theory-which you can find elaborated more fully in the Laozi entry. Clearly, such advocacy is inconsistent with the meta-theory and its purpose must be indirect-perhaps to induce us to "see" one of the three negative positions considered above. Still it gives the text a tone that we referred to above as primitivism-nullifying socialization and cultivating only the "natural" attitudes and actions.

The focus on ming words:names grows from recognizing the interpretive problem concerning acting on some guide. The disputes about dao are intimately tied to issues about words-in particular, what is to count as a correct use and what action or objects count as following the guidance.

The early Mohists advocated using a utilitarian standard to determine both the correct application of words to actions and the choice of word order in social guiding discourse. "Which dao should we follow" became "which words shall we use to socialize people and how should we interpret the words of social guiding discourse in guiding our behavior?" In effect, the early Mohist answer to both questions is settled by making allegedly "natural" distinctions between benefit and harm. Thus language content and conventions of interpretation should be governed by the utility principle.

Later Mohists formulated a more "realistic" theory of what counts as the normatively correct way to use names. We should mark the distinctions that underlie names in ways that trace patterns of objective similarity and difference in things. This realism governs the correct ways both to use terms and to interpret them. We rely on utility to determine how we structure terms into strings in guidance-in discourse dao . So, for example, a thief is a man-is governed by the rules of similarity. Still, we allow guidance that includes both the guiding strings "don't kill men" and "you may kill thieves."

This realism led the later Mohists to linguistic conclusions that challenged any anti-language attitude-including those expressed by early Daoists. First, the later Mohists argued that in any disagreement about how to distinguish realities with names, there was a right answer. It may, however, be hard to know or prove. So, for example, if we are disputing about whether to use "ox" or "non-ox" of some obscure object, one of the answers will be correct. This undermines both the nihilistic and the anti-language options to understanding Laozi. Second, Mohists argued that any attempt to formulate the anti-language position was self condemning. "All language is bad" must be a "bad" thing to say.

Other figures classified in the School of Names responded to the Mohist realists. Gongsun Long (mentioned sporadically in the Zhuangzi) took himself to be defending Confucian accounts of rectifying names and Hui Shi constructs what looks like a relativist challenge to Later Mohist accounts. We will look only at Hui Shi's account here because he plays such a significant role in the text of the Zhuangzi .

Hui Shi implicitly addressed the claim that the correct use of words depends on objective patterns of similarity and difference. What we know of his writings (which the Zhuangzi history suggests were prodigious) is mainly a sequence of theses cited at the end of the Zhuangzi history. These focused on propositions about comparative "names"-e.g., large and small. Clearly some things properly termed 'large' are objectively smaller than other things properly called 'small'. A small elephant is considerably larger than a huge ant! So correct naming must not be based on objective distinctions in the world, but on our projections from a point of view or purpose in using them. Similarly, 'tall', 'short', and time words (e.g., 'before' and 'after', 'today' and 'tomorrow') are implausibly attributed to objective distinctions

From this, according to the list of propositions in the Zhuangzi history, Hui Shi apparently concluded that we can cluster things in arbitrary ways. This insight is not taken to be about sets and members, but about divisions into parts and wholes. So we can speak of a great "one" that is a kind of everything concept-nothing lies outside it and of a small "one" which cannot be further distinguished or divided. Objectively there are no distinctions-the cosmos is one, and we should direct the same guiding attitudes toward the whole-"love all things equally."

From internal evidence, we would judge Hui Shi to have had much more influence on Zhuangzi than his knowledge of Laozi or of the contents of the Daode Jing as we know it. Hui Shi appears more often in dialogue with Zhuangzi than any other figure and in ways that suggest a long-term philosophical involvement and interaction, like relationship of philosophical friends. And, as we observed, the inner chapters of the Zhuangzi show mastery of the technical terminology and state of the art theories of language in ancient China. Still the tone seems "Daoist" in the senses we've identified. Zhuangzi marks the high point of mature Daoist philosophical theory as he finds a better way to answer later Mohist challenges than did Hui Shi.

Zhuangzi finds a "naturalist" position that coherently explains why dao has normative priority over tian. The way to avoid the anti-language trap is:

1. To acknowledge that language is natural, which Zhuangzi does in his beloved image of the "pipes of tian."

2. To resist concluding that, in being natural, all language is right or permissible.

The first may superficially appear to give in to the Confucians and Mohists-allowing them to claim that tian endorses their respective social ways. However, its Daoist thrust consists in depriving the absolutists of what they really want-the ability to declare that their opponent violates tian or lacks its similar approval. The strategy draws on the correct lesson to be learned from Shen Dao's notion of great dao -that "follow nature" has no normative significance.

The priority of dao over tian underwrites the themes of dependency and relativism that pervade the Zhuangzi and ultimately the skepticism, the open-minded toleration and the political anarchism (or disinterest in political activity or involvement). Yet, while nature is not a standard, Daoism does countenance natural daos. Mohism had presupposed one (a natural impulse to benefit) as had the Confucian intuitionist, Mencius (a natural moral tendency in the heart-mind). Zhuangzi's accepts there must be some natural or innate guides, but notes:

1. There are many such natural ways, and

2. We presuppose further ways when we choose among natural ones as we do again when we cultivate them in oneway rather than another.

These meta-reflections inform relativist (perspectival or pluralist) and skeptical themes in the inner chapters of the Zhuangzi. The style furthers both themes. Rather than speaking with an authorial voice, the text is filled with fantasy conversations between perspectives, including those of millipedes, convicts, musicians and the wind. A Zhuangzi reflective passage is more likely to end with a double rhetorical question ("is it ... or isn't it ... ?") than a strong conclusion.

Other examples include lute players, cicada catchers, wheelwrights and logicians. Each description has a hint of realism in the recognition we must put in effort to acquire the skills and then to convert them to "second nature." We come to see them as natural and as ourselves being at one with nature. Yet in the throes of skillful performance, we still can perfect them more and no matter how good we may become at one thing, may be miserable at others-particularly at conveying the skills to others.

Finally politically, Zhuangzi famously prefers fishing to high status and political office. He asks what a turtle would choose if offered the option of being nailed in a place of veneration an honor in some place of worship or staying at the lake and "dragging his tail in the mud." However this anti-political stance is unlikely to be grounded in simple self-preservation. The openness of Zhuangzi's pluralism does undermine the justification of political authority that was assumed in ancient China. Confucians and Mohists disagreed bitterly about what dao to follow in a society, but agreed without question that proper order was achieved only when a society followed a single dao . Zhuangzi's stance suggests that society could function with people following many ways of acting. Nothing requires suppressing or eliminating a dao that works from some point of view.

The Zhuangzi text, as we noted, contains the writings of a range of thinkers loosely allied with these Daoist themes. Large sections lean toward the primitivism of Laozi and others emphasize the relativism, and still others become eclectic and uncritical in their openness. For a more complete account see the entry on Zhuangzi and Texts and Textual Theory below.

The establishment of an authoritarian empire and the long-lived but philosophically dogmatic (Confucian) Han dynasty temporarily drained the vibrancy from Chinese philosophical thought. Classical Daoist philosophy was successfully extinguished by the imperial suppression of analytic thought. Confucian authoritarians like Xunzi argued that analysis of names leads to confusion and disorder. The substitution of the Qin ruler's superstitious search for long life through alchemy and his consequent fostering of Huang-Lao religion combined with suppression of dialectic thought initiated China's philosophical "Dark Age." The later substitution of Confucianism as the official orthodoxy during the Han cemented the intellectual stagnation firmly in place. Only Huang-Lao thinking remained as a live influence and archivist of Daoist texts. Its superstitions and cosmologies mingled in the emerging eclectic Han-Confucianism.

Wang Bi identified dao with non-being while still treating it as the source of all creation-the basic substance (which he associated with the of the Yijing). While the basic substance is nothing, its "function" is being-thus being depends on non-being, from which it is constantly produced as a kaleidoscopic function of an unchanging, paradoxical reality of nothing. (The ideal Daoist-Confucian person mirrors this cosmology-an expression of being a "Sage within; king without".)

The second famous Neo-Daoist, Guo Xiang commented on the Zhuangzi . His cosmology developed an interesting twist on that of Wang Bi. Non-being, he argued, did not, after all, exist. It was simply nothing and thus could not create anything. Simply put, there is no non-being-there is only being. And so there is no "giving rise to." Being always was and comes of itself. It generates and changes itself constantly by the totality the interrelations among its parts. These differences in emphasis partly reflect the differences in the original texts-the Daode Jing's emphasis on wu-values and the Zhuangzi's diverse pluralism and sense of freedom from any ultimate cosmic source of guidance.

Pragmatically, the two pictures were not very different. Each still had nothing at the center (Daoist sage) and being (Confucian King) around the edges, but Guo Xiang deemphasized any lines of force from non-being to being and emphasized instead the situation and contextual relations within the realm of being. Both similarly read their cosmologies as ways of viewing things that support and help achieve the shared lifestyle slogan "sage within, king without."

Buddhism came to China at a time when the intellectuals were hungry for fresh ideas, but it arrived with massive handicaps. It was saddled with the Indo-European focus on an appearance-reality metaphysics and epistemology, with with approximations to concepts of 'truth', sense-data experience, mind as a container of a subjective world populated by counterparts of sensible objects, propositional knowledge, representational belief, a belief-desire psychology together with a logic-informed concept of 'reason' as both a human faculty and a property of beliefs and concepts. The highly developed Buddhist arguments had little purchase on Chinese intellectuals and the only available common form of discourse that could "domesticate" this alien system was Neo-Daoist "abstruse learning" which focused on the metaphysical notions of being and non-being. That issue resonated superficially with a Buddhist puzzle about the nature of Nirvana. If Nirvana was the opposite of Samsara (the eternal cycle of rebirth or reincarnation) then was it a state of being or of non-being? Nirvana is the achievement of the Buddha-the expression of Buddha-nature. So the cosmology of this version of Buddhism, like that of the Neo-Daoists, aided achievement of some goal. Realization of the puzzling nature of this state led to Buddhahood.

Meantime, Buddhism came armed with a paradox that would delight thinkers of a Daoist turn of mind-the fabled paradox of desire. Rebirth was caused by desire and Nirvana could be achieved only by the cessation of desire. That meant that in order to achieve Nirvana, one had to cease to want to achieve it. This argument informs the Mahayana notion of a Bodhisattva, who qualifies for Nirvana but voluntarily stays behind in the cycle of rebirth to help the rest of us. Enlightenment could only be achieved all at once. (This conclusion was also a consequence of the Buddhist view that the ego is an illusion.) The Mahayana wing of Buddhism was the more successful in China because this implicit egalitarianism-everyone could be Buddha, just as everyone can be a Daoist or Confucian Sage.

The other Buddhist philosophy that had the greatest appeal in China was Madyamika, which answered the question of the nature of Nirvana or the Buddha nature by not answering it-Neo-Daoist quietism. The realization of this emptiness was a kind of non-realization, a giving up, or an inexpressible, mystical, prajna-knowledge which contrasts with "ordinary" knowledge. This helped blend discussion of dao and Buddha-nature even more and fueled the eventually widespread Confucian bias that they were the same basic religion.

Meantime, the introduction of a more "Western" religious model (monasticism) to China and coincided with the launch of organized "Daoist" religions. Modeled thus in style and progressively in content, Daoist religion, the quasi-religious Neo-Daoist stoical quietism began to blend with Buddhism.

In China, the two dominant theoretical Buddhist sects reflect the cosmological structures of the two Neo-Daoists. Tian-tai is "center dominated" with a single thought (the inexpressible Madyamika Buddha-nature) determining everything. Hua-yan shifts emphasis to the inter-relations of all "dharmas." It's a cosmos of interaction that constitutes the expression of Buddha nature.

The most Daoist of Chinese sects is famously the Chan (Japanese 'Zen') sect. We can understand its Daoist character by returning to the paradox of desire. Laozi's analysis says artificial desires are those created by learned distinctions. If we are to eliminate the desire for Nirvana, it must be by "forgetting" the dichotomy of Nirvana-Samsara. This realization is both the inner reality of enlightenment and corresponds to a mystical answer to the being/non-being of Nirvana. It underwrites the Chan/Zen emphasis on practice, the here and now-"every moment Zen"-and the signature "realization" that we are already Buddha. The Buddha nature is your self-nature-again exemplifying the Neo-Daoist "Sage within, King without" spirit.

Daoist simplicity stimulated Chan's abandonment of Buddhist theory and was accompanied by another traditional Daoist feature-the emphasis on total absorption in practice of a highly cultivated skill. Chinese Zen was dominated by the notion of "sudden enlightenment" which consists of the denial that any process leads anyone closer to the Buddha-nature. You can't get any closer-you're just there. Pay attention!

Some important concepts that have played a role in the doctrines of Daoism are:

Daoism has a reputation of being impenetrable mainly because of its central concept, dao. Yet surprisingly, the almost universal translation in English uses one of the smallest, simplest, most familiar and least consciously noticed terms of the language-'way.' This common translation, 'way', is apt in several ways. Dao (Tao) is a pivotal concept of ancient Chinese thought. 'Way' is similarly primitive (it resists analytic definition). We can only offer synonyms: e.g., 'course', 'method', 'manner', 'mode', 'style', 'means', 'practice', 'fashion', 'technique' and so on. We discover the circularity when we try to analyze one of the synonyms without recourse to the term 'way' with which we began.

The partial synonyms, however, remind us of a second way in which 'way' is an apt translation of dao. A way is the answer to a "how" or "what-to-do" question. We typically use talk of ways in advising someone. Ways are deeply practical (i.e., prescriptive or normative).

Dao is also used concretely to refer to a road or path in Chinese, e.g., Queen's Road. Again, 'way' fits this metaphorical role-as in highway and Broadway. In figurative English use they are interchangeable-the road/way to salvation. Roads guide us and facilitate our arrival at a desired destination. They are, as it were, physically real guiding or prescriptive structures.

There are interesting differences between dao and 'way'. Chinese nouns lack pluralization, so dao functions grammatically like a singular or mass term and semantically like a plural. The first tempts translators to render all occurrences as " the way." One is better advised to treat dao as a collective noun-as the part-whole sum of ways. What we think of as one way would be one part of dao.

We partition dao by modification. So we can talk about, e.g., my- dao, Sage-King's- dao, natural- dao, past-time's- dao and so forth. This feature explains why dao appears more metaphysical than 'way' and invites the familiar Daoist spatial metaphors like "humans interact in dao as fish do in water" ( Zhuangzi Ch. 6). Dao is a little like the water-an expanse constituting the realm in which humans live, work and play. To be human is to be in a realm of ways to guide us. Daoists are more likely to play with these metaphysical metaphors than are Confucians or Mohists-who mainly point to (their favored part of) dao.

Another difference is that while both dao and 'way' are almost ineliminable terms in their respective languages, We have hardly noticed the word 'way' in philosophy. It's barely visible in the history of Western philosophy-more like a bit of grammatical filler. Western philosophers have endlessly analyzed and dissected a cluster of terms thought to be central to our thinking, e.g., 'good', 'right', 'being' (to be), 'know', 'believe', 'true', 'beautiful', 'reason', 'change', 'subject', 'mind', 'meaning', 'refer', 'object', 'property', and so forth. Some trends have focused on sub-types and partial counterparts like 'methods', 'modes', 'practices', 'manners', 'plans' and in some sense even 'forms'. Yet one looks in vain to find a Western philosopher showering her analytic attention on the more general concept of 'way'.

Dao, by contrast, was the center of Chinese philosophical discussion. It occupies the position at the center of thought that in Western philosophy is filled by terms like 'being' or 'truth'. The centrality tempts interpreters to identify dao with the central concepts of the Western philosophical agenda, but that is to lose the important difference between the two traditions. Metaphysics and epistemology dominated early Western philosophy while ethics, politics and philosophy of education/psychology dominated Chinese thought. Although it's insightful to say humans live in dao as fish do in water, the insight is lost if we simply treat dao as being or some pantheistic spiritual realm. Dao remains essentially a concept of guidance, a prescriptive or normative term. In the late Classical period, dao paired with de virtuosity to form the Chinese term for 'ethics' " dao-de." Dao is the pivot of Chinese philosophy-but it still translates as 'way', not 'being'.

A third difference is that unlike 'way', dao may be used as a verb. The best known example is the famous first line of the Daode Jing. Literally " dao can be dao not constant dao." For the dao in the middle of the three daos in the passage, roughly one out of three translators uses 'speak', another third use 'tell' and the rest use near synonyms such as 'expressed', "defined in words", or 'stated'. In a famous Confucian example of this use, Confucius criticizes dao-ing the people with laws rather than dao-ing them with ritual. (This verbal sense is now often marked by a graphic variation dao).

Throughout classical texts, we find that daos are spoken, heard, forgotten, transmitted, learned, studied, understood and misunderstood, distorted, mastered, and performed with pleasure. Different countries and historical periods have different dao. Footprints of the linguistic component of the concept of dao are scattered through all kinds of modern Chinese compound words. 'Preach' is jiang- dao-speak a dao. To know is to know a dao. The character dao is part of compounds translated as 'doctrine', 'truth', 'principle', 'law' and of course, 'morality' or 'ethics', 'reason', 'religion', 'philosophy', 'orthodoxy', 'thank', 'apologize', 'tell', 'explain', 'inform' and so on.

Consider, again, the concrete translation for dao: 'road' or 'path'. A woodsman with an ax daos when he chops bark from the trees as he enters the forest; He is dao-ing when "blazing" the trail. We grasp this concept best if we resist treating roads as simple natural objects-they are, like the woodman's blazes, akin to texts that we "read" for guidance as we proceed that way. Roads or paths are embodied in a physical reality, but are not simply the reality. They are objectively real normative structures that guide or invite us to "pass this way ".

One feature that dao and speech share is the need for interpretation. But with dao the interpretation takes the form of xing walk:conduct , not that of a theory or a belief. In this respect, the relevant notion of interpretation is aesthetic. It is the kind of interpretation done when a conductor interprets a score, an actor a character in a play, a soldier his orders in the course of battle. A complete metaphysics of dao requires a distinction between normative way types and interpretive, real-time tokens . Daoist theory does introduces the tokens most dramatically with Shen Dao who focuses on what he calls Great Dao-the actual history of the world past, present and future. That image draws our attention to a purely descriptive way-a way that is not a (normative) way (not a guide).

To talk, however, about a way of interpreting a way, is to remind ourselves of Zhuangzi's point. That we can never free normative ways from ways of choosing and interpreting them. In selecting it from the alternative "invitations" open to us, and then in interpreting in our actual "walking" we always rely on some higher-order dao to justify our choice and execution of it. We are in a sea of dao.

Besides the Great Dao (the actual history of the universe), we can speak of tian daos, which are also descriptive. Daos that advise us to accept or live by our nature, in effect, choose among equally natural daos. Since we have natural ways to reform or compensate for our natures. Any dao we can choose or interpret is natural in the sense that it has for us at the time some physical realization-sound waves or pixels on a computer screen. All daos available for choice or recommendation are natural. If determinism is true, the Great Dao is the only tian dao and every available dao for normative choice is a proper part of Great Dao.

A Daoist formula for de is " dao within." It may be the result of innate skill or of careful cultivation and training. Translators most commonly use "virtue" as a translation but hurry to remind us that it is 'virtue' in the ancient Greek sense of an excellence. 'Power' is an alternative translation that reflects the link between de and successful action or achievement for its possessor. Given our use of an aesthetic conception of interpretation of dao, we may think of one's de as her 'virtuosity'. Virtuosity exhibits itself in a performer by making his "interpretation" of the thing performed (a ceremony, chant or ritual) work in the context. Thus de links dao with correct performance. This elegantly blends in the perceived overtones of "power" in the form of the performer's ability to respond to clues in the context that make the performance "work." The "powerful" performance achieves the dao 's goal in real time.

The character ming really includes all words. Grammatically, Chinese common nouns share more features with proper names and one-place predicates (transitive verbs and adjectives) than do familiar Indo-European nouns. Chinese common nouns lack case and gender markings and Chinese grammar requires no grammatical noun-verb agreement. Like mass nouns, Chinese common nouns do not undergo pluralization and can stand alone as noun phrases. For related reasons, Chinese analysis postulated no substance-attribute structure to adjective-noun relations. So the translation 'name' is not inept nor is the ancient Chinese theory assumption that all words name the part of reality which the word "picks out"-roughly "naming" what we think of as its denotation or scope. Thus 'white' is a name and 'horse' is a name. Each names a region or part of the world.

The most familiar statement of a widely shared implicit theory of names in ancient China is expressed beautifully in the Daode Jing. Call it the "contrast theory" of names. It treats all words (norms or values) as "coming with" a complement, converse or opposite. To learn and understand a word is to know what is and what is not picked out by it. In the Daode Jing, the theory lends itself to a linguistic idealist interpretation. Names literally "create" things. This line of interpretation informs the "chaos" interpretation of Daoist metaphysics in which reality is an undifferentiated stuff which humans divide into "things" by the use of ming.

An interesting near homonym is ming command-fate which was routinely used as a verbal form of ming. The familiar practice is to translate it as either 'command' (reminding us of the Chinese view that the role of language and names is guiding and coordinating behavior) or as 'fate'. Another meaning-related near homonym is ming discerning:clear .

There is less controversy about the meaning of chang, but its uses and importance in Chinese thought are not well understood. We can better appreciate the uses of chang in ancient Chinese by analogy with causal and reliability theories in epistemology and semantics. Hu Shih speculated that in this use, chang resembled a pragmatic conception of 'true'. He pointed to a related use in the Mozi which advocates that we should chang language that promotes [good?] behavior. This quasi-imperative use underlies its role in Daoist relativistic and skeptical analysis. The Daode Jing has the most famous example of its use in the parallel opening couplet where it modifies both dao and ming.

Mohist use of the concept is instructive. Tian is a paradigm of constancy. The Mohists alluded to its regularity and universality to contrast with the temporary and local authority of social conventions and guidance by authority. They cast their disagreement with Confucians in terms of who offered a constant dao. This seems to bridge three measures of constancy.

1. A constant dao should apply equally to people of all cultures, times, and levels of social development.

2. A constant dao should be operationally unambiguous-like measurements operations. Its interpretation into action should not invite variability.

3. A constant dao should be consistent with natural tendencies; it should reinforce and draws reinforcement from them rather than encounter resistance in practice.

Daoists, as the Laozi famously puts it, suggest that any dao that can dao (guide or be used as a guide) will not be a constant dao. It follows this claim with a parallel claims about ming. Any name that can name is an inconstant name. This is arguably offered as the explanation of the inconstancy of dao asserted in the earlier sentence.

In modern Mandarin, the character has two different tones. The fourth tone reading is usually translated as "for the sake of." In the second tone reading, the character would normally be translated as 'to act'. Textbook interpretations say wei means 'purpose' as well as 'action', so the slogan means "non-purposive action." The second tone reading, however, has another important use. Some grammar textbooks call it the putative sense-"to deem, regard or interpret." Wei functions in this sense in Literary Chinese belief ascriptions which focus on the predicate. So a belief that S is P takes the de re form [believer] takes S to be ( wei) P. Wei also figures in a related way in knowledge contexts with nominal predicates-"know to deem as ( wei) [noun]."

Ancient Chinese has several meaning-related homonyms, including , wei to be called , and wei artificial . The latter adds a 'human' radical to wei. Typical translations of this character include 'artificial' or 'false'. The cluster of concepts correspond to the pivotal Daoist contrast between tian (nature) and ren (the human). Wei is something done by human conceptualizing rather than something "natural." If we include this content in our explanation of Laozi's use of wei, we can explain its role more fully than does the theory on acts while lacking 'purpose' or deliberation. Little in the Laozi (or earlier Chinese thought) suggests any development of a distinction between voluntary, deliberate, or purposive action and its opposite. To act without wei is to remove the social, conceptual character from our behavior and act on "natural" instinct or intuition. This makes the concept cohere nicely with Laozi's analysis of names and knowledge as forms of social control.

The wu-wei ideal also informs the Neo-Daoist slogan "Sage within; king without." It suggests (following Zhuangzi) that Daoist wu-wei may be consistent with being a good Confucian. Being a scholar-official is as much a skill as being a butcher and one may practice it with the same attitude of inner emptiness. As long as one takes the "right" attitude, one may pursue any activity consistent with Daoism. Neo-Daoists conform to Confucian roles without regarding or interpreting them as ultimately right-or as anything else.

With the importation of Indo-European Buddhism from India, wu-wei started to be interpreted via the Western conceptual apparatus contrasting desire or purpose and reason. This shaped the modern Chinese interpretation and probably undermined the ideal. It became the target of attack among "modern" Chinese who regarded Daoist "non-striving" or "purposelessness" as the source of Chinese passivity. The activist 19 th century reformer, Kang You-wei (Kang have- wei) took the denial of the slogan as his scholarly name.

The Daoist "primitivist" ideal as expressed mainly in the Laozi. It metaphorically represents the result of forgetting ming and desires (See ). Translations include simplicity, "raw" wood, and D. C. Lau's more elaborate "uncarved block." The detailed translation more sensitively expresses Laozi's point in using the metaphor in the context of a view of names as "cutting" things into types and Laozi's distinctive theory that such socially constructed distinctions (institutions) control us by controlling our desires. When societies adopt names or terms, it does so in order to instill and regulate desires for one of the pair created by the name-induced distinction. Thus Daoist forgetting requires forgetting names and distinctions, but in doing so, frees itself from the socially induced, unnatural desires that cause strife and unhappiness in society (e.g. status, rare objects, fame, authority). Hence: "The Nameless uncarved block thus amounts to freedom from desire." ( Daode Jing 37)

Questions of textual theory are the focus of the bulk of modern scholarship. They include these kinds of questions.

Existence (did Laozi or Zhuangzi actually exist)

Authorship (did they write the texts attributed to them?)

Dating (when did they exist or write their texts?)

Relations (did Laozi influence Zhuangzi?)

Traditional "fantastic" textual stories dominated explanations of religious Daoism. This effectively replaces philosophical content with mythical narrative and claims of pedigree or status of the founder. This aversion to exposition is compounded with the traditional view that Daoist philosophy defies rational clarification. This philosophical site, accordingly, will give only abbreviated attention to these textual theories.

The traditional story centers on Laozi and the Daode Jing. It credits the text to Laozi who was stopped at the pass while attempting to leave China (to go to India and come to be known as Buddha). The keeper of the pass required him to leave his dao behind so Laozi dashed off 5000-odd quick characters of poetry. Zhuangzi inherited the insights and developed the Daoist outlook in parable form.

Modern text detectives, Chinese and Western, have successfully cast doubt on this traditional view. However, their alternative scenarios, while collectively more plausible than the traditional story, are diverse enough to lead a skeptic to conclude that no one knows the correct textual theories-even if some of them turn out to be true. The time is too remote and the evidence too scarce to warrant using "know" of any detailed textual theory.

Textual theorists themselves tend more toward interpretive skepticism. They argue that textual theory is prior to and more certain than interpretation-which they treat as subjective projection. They would reject textual skepticism as defeatism and as self-defeating for an interpretive theorist.

Current textual thinking tends toward the view that all the classical Chinese texts were being continuously edited and maintained in textual communities over sometimes hundreds of years. This editing and emendation often reflected interaction with other text communities as they worked out alternative answers to shared questions. Clearly such an accretion theory undermines the traditional goal of uncovering the "original" in the sense of the earliest version of the text. Text selection for interpretive and theoretical purposes becomes a more normative issue-which text is best?

The argument for its authoritative status was weak. The enthusiasm rested on the traditional attachment to an "original" text (earlier in time). In fact, the discovery tended to confirm the evolutionary, multiple-editor view, while this enthusiasm treated textual evolution as if it took place by successive operations on a single physical text item. Like physiological evolution, text evolution more probably operated on a population or "stream" of copies, abridgements and additions.

Wang Bi probably had access to a range of that population in selecting his version. The archeological discovery was of a single instance-a branch of the stream. The historical circumstances of the presumed time of burial further undermined the optimistic assumption that the Mawang Dui was the original. The tomb's date places the texts after a radical disruption of textual husbandry-in 200 BCE when the Qin "burned books and buried scholars."

The Qin had set out to destroy traditional learning. The later Han ostensibly cherished and tried to recover textual scholarship. In the succeeding Han, text collection, veneration preservation (and copying) became the norm. The theory that the Mawang Dui was the authoritative text assumes that the destructive political frenzy at the end of classical period had not affected the integrity of transmission that produced the Mawang Dui instances. Then it must insist that in the succeeding period of textual veneration and preservation, radical changes were introduced into the entire population of copies and versions of the text so that all those on which Wang Bi drew on after the Han were corrupted-and in similar ways-from the orthodox Mawang Dui version.

The opposite story is more probable-the sample was a version written with punctuation and interpretive emendation for a member of the superstitious ruling class. Taking it as representing of the whole population of texts at the time is an elementary sampling error.

The Mawang Dui fervor was further undermined in 1993 when another discovery of a still older pair of abridged texts (dating from before 200 BCE) turned out to be more like the traditional text (the order of selection reflected the traditional daode arrangement). Even more notably, it strongly confirmed the gradual accretion view of the text suggesting that the Daode Jing was still in the process of being compiled at that late date. This locates the composition of the Daode Jing and the Zhuangzi almost side-by-side.

Laozi's existence is widely disputed partly because the traditional story seems impossible for one person to satisfy. That only entails, however, that not all the things in the story are true of him, not that he didn't exist. On the other hand, there is little positive evidence that he did and there are many alternative stories of how he came to be regarded as the author of the Daode Jing. It is common for theorists to treat 'Laozi' as a definite description referring to "whoever wrote the Daode Jing. -"Many thus regard the question of his existence as equivalent to the question of his authorship of at least a part of the text-hence improbable given current textual theory. The issues, however, are also separate. Laozi could have existed and not written any of the text attributed to him. On balance, the existence of Zhuangzi is considerably more probable, though little is known of him that is not from the text bearing his name-many of whose stories are obviously fanciful.

Textual theories of the Zhuangzi are more elaborate and consistent. Though they differ in details and identification of parts, text scholars largely converge on attributing the chapters, outside of the eight assigned to Zhuangzi himself, to students of Zhuangzi, to primitivists who are associated with Yang Zhu (Yangists), and to other more eclectic and religious writers associated probably with the production of the other texts associated with Daoism. To be strict, however, despite the prevalence of the opinion, there is nothing resembling a convincing argument that Zhuangzi wrote all eight of the so called "inner chapters."

Probably the association of the Laozi and Zhuangzi texts began when students of Zhuangzi noticed some shared or reinforcing themes expressed in a contemporary anonymous textual group working on the evolving Daode Jing. Perhaps both groups appreciated the affinity and began to exchange themes, expressions, and related lines of thought. Graham argued that the association of Laozi with the Daode Jing dates from a conspiratorial attempt to gain authority over Confucianism by claiming that the Daode Jing stemmed from Confucius' teacher who was known in legend as Laozi.

This is a rough table of the state of textual theories of the two defining texts of Daoism. There are four main questions; the table lists, for each question, the traditional story, the range of theories, and the most plausible answer to the question.

Existence

Traditional story: Laozi and Zhuangzi like teacher-student or prophet-disciple.

Range of theories: Zhuangzi inspired the formulation of the myth of Laozi and the attribution.

Most plausible answer: Zhuangzi knew only the Confucian story of Laozi. Laozi's actual existence merely possible.

Authorship

Traditional story: Laozi wrote the Daode Jing before traveling to India to found Buddhism. Zhuangzi wrote theZhuangzi.

Range of theories: Zhuangzi wrote only chapter two.Daode Jing a product of Huang-Lao ruler-mysticism.

Most plausible answer: Both books the product of textual communities who continually edit and add to the text. Zhuangzi wrote at most eight chapters.

Dating

Traditional story: The Daode Jing was written before Confucius. Zhuangzi inspired to expand on its mystical insight.

Range of theories: Daode Jing being edited well into the Han dynasty. Miscellaneous and Outer chapters of theZhuangzi edited or composed into the Han.

Most plausible answer: Both being edited through and beyond the classical period.

Relation

Traditional story: Laozi prophet/teacher, Zhuangzi disciple/pupil.

Range of theories: Zhuangzi formulated his theories first and the chief influence was his sophist friend Hui Shi.

Most plausible answer: Textual communities began to borrow from each other after the inner chapters completed.

Other textual theories address the authorship, dating and relations to the two canonical Daoist texts to the later "religious" texts mentioned above. Essentially the upshot is that they borrowed heavily from the two classical texts, often changing the context and failing to understand the philosophical point. The quotations they used were embedded in popular cosmological and religious contexts.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Definitions of Daoism are controversial because of the complex twists in its development as it played its role in the long history of China. Even the coining of the term creates ambiguity about what counts as 'Daoism'. Three to seven centuries after they were supposed to have lived, Han dynasty (around 100 BCE) historians identified Laozi and Zhuangzi as Daoists.

# data[].attributes.headline
10.8 Why it’s Better to Stop Searching for your True Self

# data[].attributes.subject
10.8 Why it’s Better to Stop Searching for your True Self

# data[].attributes.body
Classical Chinese philosophy presents a counter-intuitive perspective that challenges modern assumptions about self-acceptance and authenticity, suggesting that these values may actually limit personal growth and lead to danger.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Why it’s better to stop searching for your true self | Michael Puett | TEDxNashville

# data[].attributes.headline
10.9 The Science of Spontaneity: Mastering Wuwei

# data[].attributes.subject
10.9 The Science of Spontaneity: Mastering Wuwei

# data[].attributes.body
Edward Slingerland claims that recent research suggests that many aspects of a satisfying life - such as happiness and spontaneity - are best pursued indirectly. The early Chinese philosophers knew this, and they wrote extensively about an effortless way of being in the world. Can we try not to try?

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Science of Spontaneity: Mastering Wu-Wei | Edward Slingerland | Big Think

# data[].attributes.headline
10.10 Introduction to Classical Chinese Philosophy

# data[].attributes.subject
10.10 Introduction to Classical Chinese Philosophy

# data[].attributes.body
This book provides a very beginner friendly introduction to the world of classical Chinese philosophy that is easily accessible to those new to the subject.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Browse, borrow, and enjoy titles from the National Library Board Singapore digital collection.