Joel Anderson

What experimental game theorists may have demonstrated is not that people are systematically irrational but that human rationality is heavily scaffolded. Remove the scaffolding, and we do not do very well. People are able to get on because they “offload” an enormous amount of practical reasoning onto their environment. As a result, when they are put in novel or unfamiliar environments, they perform very poorly, even on apparently simple tasks. This observation is supported by recent empirically informed shifts in philosophy of mind toward a view of cognition as (to cite the current slogan) “embodied, embedded, enactive, extended.” Andy Clark and others have made a very plausible case for the idea that a proper assessment of human cognitive competence must include environmental components. To limit our attention to what lies within the skin-skull boundary is, in effect, to miss the big story on human rationality. Insofar as we are rational, it is often because of our ingenuity at developing “work-arounds” to the glitches in the fast-and-frugal heuristic problem-solving capabilities that natural selection has equipped us with. And these work-arounds often involve a detour through the environment (so-called offloading of cognitive burdens). When it comes to practical rationality, things are no different. Yet in many discussions of “the will,” there is still a tendency to put too much emphasis on what goes on inside the agent’s head. Our objective in this chapter is to articulate this conception of “the extended will” more clearly, using the strategies that people employ to overcome procrastination for the central set of examples. Procrastination, in our view, constitutes a particular type of self-control problem, one that is particularly amenable to philosophical reflection, not only because of the high volume of psychological research on the subject but also because of the large quantity of “self-help” literature in circulationa literature that provides an invaluable perspective on the everyday strategies that people use in order to defeat (or, better yet, circumvent) this type of self-defeating behavior pattern. In general, what we find is that the internalist bias that permeates discussions of the will gives rise to a set of practical recommendations that overemphasize changing the way one thinks about a task, while ignoring the much richer set of strategies that are available in the realm of environmental scaffolding. In the concluding section, we highlight some of the policy implications of this, particularly regarding social trends involving the dismantling of support structures.

The present book makes a particularly engaging case for a whole range of policy implications of behavioural economics. The rhetoric is highly compelling, and their approach is already having a significant impact. However, while the wider audience for whom the book is written may not be interested in the justification of the underlying principles, it is precisely the cracks in the foundations that pose the greatest threat to the project. For example, if Thaler and Sunstein are to have any chance of their 'libertarian paternalism' meriting ‘libertarian’ credentials, it is essential that the re-engineering of choice architecture not be guided by any particular political or moral agenda. Their claim here is that what makes a nudge beneficial is not that it steers people in the direction of behaviour that is objectively ‘good’ but rather in the direction of behaviour that they won’t regret. That said, there are a number of points where it is hard to shake the suspicion that Thaler and Sunstein help themselves rather conveniently to the idea that, if a person’s choices are largely a function of various framing effects, say, then overriding those choices violates no autonomy, since there was no autonomy there to be violated. In this review, I raise four concerns not adequately addressed in the book. (1) Thaler and Sunstein are misleading in their use of the term ‘paternalism’, which is standardly defined as a matter of interfering with a competent person’s choices out of a motivation to improve that person’s welfare. As Thaler and Sunstein use the term, however, it becomes equivalent to beneficence: when the government acts to improve people’s welfare by influencing choices in any way, according to them, it is engaging in paternalism. (2) Their appeal to the resistibility of nudges is a centrepiece of the account and particularly of its claim to be ‘libertarian’, but given what they themselves write about how effective nudges are and how poor we are at even noticing the influences to which we are subject, it is entirely unclear why we should expect nudges to be easily resisted. (3) Thaler and Sunstein generally align themselves with the perspective of planners who half-pose the presumptuously rhetorical question, ‘Who would really mind?’ But the question is not just whether people would object, if they were consulted. People also care about whether they are consulted and whether they understand the influences to which they are subject. Thaler and Sunstein advise choice architects against being secretive about nudges, but this espousal of principle, in a late chapter responding to objections, is not borne out by the discussion in the rest of the book, which focuses almost exclusively and rather effusively on the possibilities for channelling individuals’ choice-behaviour toward better outcomes. (4) Thaler and Sunstein tend to downplay alternative approaches to improving decision making that are perfectly compatible with the behavioural economics and social psychology discussed by Thaler and Sunstein, but less paternalistic. For example, there is a growing body of research on how to construct contexts of interpersonal deliberation to generate stable solutions to collective action problems, by improving people’s collective decision-making capacities, rather than subjecting them to nudges. More generally, one comes up with very different recommendations if one thinks of the problems to which nudges are supposed to be a solution not as a matter of human failings per se, but rather as a socially and historically contingent misfit between the decision-making capacities that particular policies and institutions require of individuals and the capacities that people actually have. Conceived in the latter way – in terms of what I have elsewhere dubbed ‘autonomy gaps’, it becomes an open question whether what is called for is a choice architecture that makes it easier to avoid regrettable decisions or, rather, various measures to improve individuals’ decision-making capacities, say, through education, ‘buddy’ arrangements, decision-making heuristics, etc.

Many discussions of love and the family treat issues of justice as something alien. On this view, concerns about whether one's family is internally just are in tension with the modes of interaction that are characteristic of loving families. In this essay, we challenge this widespread view. We argue that once justice becomes a shared family concern, its pursuit is compatible with loving familial relations. We examine four arguments for the thesis that a concern with justice is not at home within a loving family, and we explain why these arguments fail. We develop and defend an alternative conception of the justice-oriented loving family, arguing that justice can—and, for the sake of justice, should—be seen as a family value

Voting Advice Applications (VAAs) are interactive online tools designed to assist voters by improving the basis on which they decide how to vote. In recent years, they have been widely adopted, but their design is the subject of ongoing and often heated criticism. Most of these debates focus on whether VAAs accurately measure the standpoints of political parties and the preferences of users and on whether they report valid results while avoiding political bias. It is generally assumed that if their methodology is sound, then VAAs can be seen as strengthening the democratic process. But as we argue in this chapter, the setup of VAAs raises basic questions of normative democratic theory as well. Insofar as VAAs are supposed to improve the functioning of the democratic process, it must be clarified in what sense they aim to make a contribution, before it even makes sense to discuss their effectiveness at doing so. VAAs are often intended to enhance the democratic process by one or all of the following: (I) informing voters about the policy standpoints of political parties (or individual candidates), (2) increasing voter turnout, and (3) ensuring that the composition of parliaments more accurately reflects the political attitudes of the electorate. In the next three sections, we discuss three central bones of contention in current democratic theory that are crucial to these ways in which VAAs typically take themselves to contribute to strengthening the democratic process: 1. Questions about citizen competence: What forms of competence do citizens need to have, and to what extent, for a democracy to function properly? 2. Questions about political participation: What forms and extent of participation are vital to democracy? 3. Questions about democratic representation: How should the relation between the elected and the electorate be understood? For each issue we aim to show, first, how the design and setup of mainstream VAAs are tacitly structured by a specific conception of the democratic aim at issue and, second, what some alternative positions on these questions are within contemporary political theory. In the final section, we will discuss some of the implications of this analysis for the responsibilities of VAA developers, and particularly for the procedural neutrality to which they are typically committed. Our conclusion will be that once these issues are identified, developers of VAAs should either argue in favour of their views on democratic competence, participation and representation, or they should rethink the design of VA As in ways that move beyond their current assumptions, or both.

One of liberalism’s core commitments is to safeguarding individuals’ autonomy. And a central aspect of liberal social justice is the commitment to protecting the vulnerable. Taken together, and combined with an understanding of autonomy as an acquired set of capacities to lead one’s own life, these commitments suggest that liberal societies should be especially concerned to address vulnerabilities of individuals regarding the development and maintenance of their autonomy. In this chapter, we develop an account of what it would mean for a society to take seriously the obligation to reduce individuals’ autonomy-related vulnerabilities to an acceptable minimum. In particular, we argue that standard liberal accounts underestimate the scope of this obligation because they fail to appreciate various threats to autonomy.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Accurate Self-Assessment, Autonomous Ignorance, and the Appreciation of DisabilityJoel Anderson (bio) and Warren Lux (bio)In their thoughtful commentaries on our essay, "Knowing your own strength: Accurate self-assessment as a requirement for personal autonomy," George Agich, Ruth Chadwick, and Dominic Murphy (2004) provide both criticisms and insights that give us a context in which to clarify further our claim that one's autonomy is impaired when one is unable to appreciate whether one has the capacities required for tasks one is undertaking. We focus on two issues: the extent to which our account of autonomy suggests a problematically "externalist" or "objective" approach and the issue of whether our talk of accurate self-assessment entails an overdemanding requirement that one know numerous facts about oneself to count as autonomous.The External Point of ViewFor many, the idea that specific regions of the brain might be relevant to a person's autonomy evokes nightmarish, startlingly reductionist visions of a world in which informed consent is decided on the basis of neuroimaging. In arguing that a capacity for self-assessment is essential for autonomy and also presupposes executive function that is often impaired by prefrontal damage, we do not wish to engage in such reductionism by suggesting that there is any straightforward, one-to-one mapping comparable to that presupposed by the nightmare scenarios. Given what we know about the brain's plasticity, the prospects (although limited at present) for neurorehabilitation, the multiplicity of the instantiation of autonomy-related capacities, and, especially, the constitutively moral/normative dimensions of these capacity concepts, such mappings are clearly problematic. This is true even in the easy cases, which, as Murphy points out, include our case of "John." This is all the more true with regard to the more complicated psychiatric cases, including disorders such as depression where the normative dimensions and the greater interpretive leeway in diagnosis preclude reductionist solutions (See Anderson 2004). For these reasons and for independent philosophical reasons, we are uncomfortable with the label "externalist," [End Page 309] although we acknowledge and confirm our view that externally applied neuroscientific notions—and evidence—can inform these matters. Nonetheless, we do not wish to argue for a fully externalist point of view, especially when paired with the idea that we are advocating a "smooth naturalistic picture of the cognitive basis of autonomy" (Murphy 2004, 303). Murphy puts us in some terrific company with the likes of John Doris, Shaun Nichols, and—we would add—himself, and this is welcome and flattering. But, to avoid any misunderstanding of an issue that we do not actually take up in our essay, we should caution that we do not endorse a program of naturalizing the normativity on which many of central autonomy-related concepts are based. The notion, for example, of what it is to assess competently one's chances of success cannot be replaced with a set of nomological regularities or a self-applying list of necessary and sufficient conditions.Appreciating Disability and Knowing the FactsOne of the central challenges we face in presenting our approach is to distinguish our requirement of "accurate self-assessment" from an implausible requirement that one have no false beliefs about one's capacities. In different ways, all three commentaries make it clear that our argument would benefit from further clarification of this distinction.In her commentary, Chadwick suggests that our approach may commit us to requiring too much self-knowledge, specifically, that it seems to require accurate knowledge of things like our genetic makeup as a requirement for autonomy. To begin with, it is worth underscoring again that the requirement we have introduced is explicitly task specific: we are focused here on whether an agent has an understanding of things that are relevant for undertaking an intended task, and declarative knowledge of facts, genetic or otherwise, about oneself is relevant only insofar as they bear on that understanding.But Chadwick's point clearly goes deeper. In that regard, it is particularly important to underscore that ours is actually a requirement that has less to do with knowing facts—even task-specific ones—about oneself and much more to do with having the ability to incorporate available...