R. A. Duff

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

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

First paragraph: Some reasons for action are relational. I have a relational reason to Φ when I have reason to Φ in virtue of a relationship in which I stand, or a role that I fill; absent that relationship or that role I would not have that reason to Φ ; others who do not stand in that relationship or fill that role do not have that reason to Φ . I have a relational reason to feed this child -- that he is my child: absent that parental relationship, I might still have a reason to feed him, as might others who are not his parents -- for instance that he is starving; but absent that relationship, I would not have and others cannot have that specific relational reason to feed this child. I have a relational reason to respond to this person's philosophical queries -- that she is my student: absent that pedagogical relationship, I might still have reason to respond to her questions, as might others who are not her teachers -- for instance that it is good to help such seekers after philosophical insight; but absent that relationship, I would not have and others cannot have that specific relational reason to respond to her queries. I have relational reason to pay John ￡10 -- that I borrowed it from him and promised to repay him today: absent that promissory relationship I might still have, and others might have, reason to give him ￡10 -- for instance that he is impoverished and I am (or they are) rich; but absent that promissory relationship, neither I nor others could have that specific relational reason to give him ￡10

Part of the Studies in Crime and Public Policy series, this book, written by one of the top philosophers of punishment, examines the main trends in penal theorizing over the past three decades. Duff asks what can justify criminal punishment, and then explores the legitimacy of actual practices by examining what would count as adequate justification for them. Duff argues that a "communicative conception of punishment," which he presents as a third way between consequentialist and retributive theories, offers the most fruitful way of understanding punishment's meaning and justification. Duff addresses such questions as how much sentences should be constrained by proportionality requirements; what modalities of punishment best communicate their intended meaning; and what decisionmaking procedures he envisions. This book will appeal to criminologists, philosophers, and others interested in theories of punishment

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

abstract Focusing on the criminal law, I discuss three ways in which analytical philosophers might contribute to the development or health of the law (and of legal theory). The first is as humble under-labourers, who seek only to clarify legal rules and doctrines, but not to criticise them. This modest conception of the role of philosophy, however, proves to be untenable: clarification must become rational reconstruction — an attempt to make rational sense of the law; and rational reconstruction must involve at least an internal critique, which appraises the law in terms of ends, values or principles that the reconstruction discovers within the law. Such an internal critique must then also point beyond itself, to an external critique that appraises law in terms of the broader and deeper political and moral values by which states should be structured; the paper ends by noting some of the problems that such an external critique faces, and some of the problems that philosophers must face in trying to engage with the world of public policy.

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

Nigel Walker’s first principle of criminalization declares that ‘Prohibitions should not be included in the criminal law for the sole purpose of ensuring that breaches of them are visited with retributive punishment’. I argue that we should reject this principle, for ‘mala prohibita’ as well as for ‘mala in se’: conduct should be criminalized in order to ensure (as far as we reasonably can) that those who engage in it receive retributive punishment. In the course of the argument, I show why we should not see the criminal law as consisting in ‘prohibitions’; I explain different species of mala prohibita, and show how their commission does involve genuine wrongdoing; and I show the importance of distinguishing the question of regulation from that of sanction.

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

I argue that hanink's account of the principle of double effect ("some light on double effect," "analysis", volume 35, number 5) is inadequate, and rests on the mistaken assumption that the criteria for distinguishing acts from each other, intention from foresight, acting from refraining, can be specified independently of any moral perspective. i try to indicate the way to a better understanding of these distinctions, and the essential features of the kind of absolutist morality which invokes them--its concern with "agency", with "transcendent values", and with "limits" on human action. i illustrate these points by a brief discussion of suicide

After an initial discussion (§i) of what a theory of criminal law might amount to, I sketch (§ii) the proper aims of a liberal, republican criminal law, and discuss (§§iii–iv) two central features of such a criminal law: that it deals with public wrongs, and provides for those who perpetrate such wrongs to be called to public account. §v explains why a liberal republic should maintain such a system of criminal law, and §vi tackles the issue of criminalization—of how we should determine the proper scope of the criminal law