Mark LeBar

One important objection to virtue ethical theories is that they apparently must account for the wrongness of a wrong action in terms of a lack of virtue (or presence of vice) in the agent, and not in terms of the effects of the action on its victim. We take such effects to ground deontic constraints on how we may act, and virtue theory appears unable to account for such constraints. I claim, however, that eudaimonist virtue theory can account for wrongness in just this way. I draw on recent work by Stephen Darwall on the “second-person standpoint,” in which we see others as independent sources of claims on us —as sources of “deontic constraints.” We have reason to occupy that standpoint as a matter of virtue, and thus virtuous agents should and will have reasons to respect deontic constraints. I argue for this claim as an element of a plausible eudaimonist virtue theory, and rebut objections that the view misunderstands the nature of or reasons for respecting such constraints.

It seems that in interpreting others we sometimes simulate, sometimes apply theory. Josef Perner has suggested that a fruitful line of inquiry in folk psychology would seek "criteria for problems where we have to use simulation from those where we do without or where it is even impossible to use." In this paper I follow Perner with a suggestion that our understanding of our interpretive processes may benefit from considering their physiological bases. In particular, I claim that it may be useful to consider the role emotion plays in the respective interpretive processes. I give reasons for believing that affective processes are more heavily involved in simulation (especially in situations of practical judgment and practical reasoning) than in theory-application. But affective processes have distinctive neurological and metabolic properties. These distinctive features of emotion may not only enrich our understanding of the simulation process, but also afford us a step towards responding to Perner's challenge

Philosophical reflection on ethical value may be motivated in a number of ways. One common origin can occur when we observe that we often do not agree with people around us in their ethical commitments, and begin to puzzle how to make sense of that fact. Most of us have some strong beliefs as to ways our world can be a morally better or worse place: we agree for instance that the world is a better place for having less slavery in it than it used to. That is to say, we think slavery is a bad — a morally bad — thing. Similarly, most of us agree that the world is better off for our being in time to grab a small child out of the path of a speeding automobile than it would be if we came a moment too late. Saving a child from death or grave harm is a good — morally good — thing. The idea that the world includes ethical values like the goodness and badness of such things seems unproblematic when we focus on issue on which most of us agree. Yet our confidence that the world contains such values wobbles when we turn our attention to more controversial issues.

Some of the earliest Western ideas about the virtues of character gave justice a prominent position, but if moral philosophy has made any progress at all in the past two centuries, we might think it worthwhile to reconsider what that virtue involves. Kant seems (even to most non-Kantians) to have crystallized something important to our relations with others in formulating a proscription against treating others merely as means. And twentieth-century moral and political theory put the justice of social institutions in the spotlight in an unprecedented way. Here I explore the significance of these developments for what it is to be a just person (the nature of “individual justice”) as it was originally understood, within the eudaimonist virtue-ethical theories of the ancient Greeks. By any standard, ancient thinking about individual justice seems to have been incomplete in important ways; perhaps, in virtue of these advances in moral theory, we are in position to enrich our thinking about it.

This paper addresses a complaint, by Prichard, against Plato and other ancients. The charge is that they commit a mistake is in thinking that we are capable of giving reasons for the requirements of duty, rather than directly and immediately apprehending those requirements. I respond in two ways. First, Plato does not make the egregious mistake of substituting interest for duty, and thus giving the wrong kind of reason for duty’s requirements, as Prichard alleges. Second, we should see that the ancient ethical enterprise as being comprehensive in a sense Prichard simply ignores. The ancients sought what we now call wide reflective equilibrium in judgments about both duty and interest, and to see this I focus on a puzzle in how to understand much of ancient moral philosophizing. This puzzle is to make sense of the work that formal constraints on happiness do to support their preferred views of happiness (or interest). This way of engaging not only our thoughts about duty and interest, but about what it is to be human and to lead a human life, make the ancient model far more satisfying than Prichard’s recommendation that we give it all up as a mistake.