Mark T. Nelson

An important part of the Humean legacy in metaethics would be unacceptable to Hume himself, viz., the argument for moral non-cognitivism based on Humean moral psychology. This argument would be unacceptable to Hume because it requires the premise of motivational internalism: “Necessarily, if one judges an act right, then one is motivated to act in accordance with that judgment.” This premise asserts a universal, necessary connection between an agent’s moral judging and that agent’s being motivated to act accordingly, but it also violates Hume’s claim that the only true propositions asserting universal, necessary connections are about “relations of ideas.” But motivational internalism cannot be about relations of ideas, because it fails the contradiction test in “Hume’s Fork.”

I characterize moral intuitionism as the methodological claim that one may legitimately appeal to moral judgments in the course of moral reasoning even when those judgments are not supported by inference from other judgments. I describe two patterns of criticism of this method: ‘morally unserious’ criticisms, which hold that ‘morality is bunk’, so appeals to moral intuitions are bunk as well; and ‘morally serious’ criticisms, which hold that morality is not bunk, but that appeals to moral intuition are nonetheless misguided. I consider morally serious criticisms of Kantian and Aristotelian provenance, but defend the intuitionist method from both.

Walter Sinnott–Armstrong's recent defence of moral scepticism raises the debate to a new level, but I argue that it is unsatisfactory because of problems with its assumption of global scepticism, with its use of the Sceptical Hypothesis Argument, and with its use of the idea of contrast classes and the correlative distinction between ‘everyday’ justification and ‘philosophical’ justification. I draw on Chisholm's treatment of the Problem of the Criterion to show that my claim that I know that, e.g., baby–torture is wrong, is no more question–begging than Sinnott–Armstrong's denial that I know this.

Elaine Sternberg’s Just Business is one of the first book‐length Aristotelian treatments of business ethics. It is Aristotelian in the sense that Sternberg begins by defining the nature of business in order to identify its end, and, thence, normative principles to regulate it. According to Sternberg, the nature of business is ‘the selling of goods or services in order to maximise long‐term owner value’, therefore all business behaviour must be evaluated with reference to the maximisation of long‐term owner value, constrained only by considerations of Ordinary decency and distributive justice. This stands in sharp contrast to recently popular ‘stakeholder’ approaches to business‐ethical decision making. I argue that Sternberg’s definition of business, particularly in its maximising and long‐term conditions, is flawed, that her teleological method raises more questions than it solves, and that her Aristotelianism cannot be wedded happily to her libertarianism.

Abstract: We are subject to “epistemic tension” when we feel the pull of apparently incompatible ideas X and Y, i.e., when we have what we take to be strong reasons to think that both X and Y are true. Sometimes we relieve this tension by showing that X and Y are not really incompatible or that we do not have strong reason to believe both of them. Sometimes, however, we do not. For example, in his famous discussion of “naked soldiers” Michael Walzer (1992: 138-143) presents a number of historical accounts in which soldiers were in a position to kill an enemy, but declined to do so because the enemy soldier in question was bathing or holding up his pants or drinking coffee or simply enjoying a spring sunrise, i.e., activities in which we “recognize a fellow creature, who is not threatening me, whose activities have the savor of peace and camaraderie, whose person is as valuable as my own.” And yet, after presenting these accounts in loving detail, Walzer returns to the conclusion he has defended over the previous eight chapters: “It is not against the rules of war as we currently understand them to kill soldiers who look funny, who are taking a bath, holding up their pants, reveling in the sun, smoking a cigarette.” Far from seeking to eliminate the epistemic tension between two conflicting moral ideas, here he seems to embrace it. Why would he do this? Maybe his purpose is to show that logic breaks down, hence we must tolerate paradoxes? Or maybe he wants to heighten our sense of the problem to make his later solution all the more dazzling? Or maybe he is just perverse? On the contrary, I suggest that in some such cases epistemic tension can provide us with valuable information: namely, that there is strong prima facie evidence for both X and Y. I will argue further that the existence such fits best with a pluralistic, non-reductive account of epistemic justification modelled on Rossian prima facie rightness. Finally, I argue that the distinctive phenomenological character of our experience of epistemic tension makes it a good way – perhaps the only way – to garner such information about justification in the absence of a plausible objective, quantitative account of evidential relations.

Most philosophy of religion classes discuss the classic design argument for the existence of God, and many of these treat Paley’s Natural Theology (1802) before Hume’s Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (1779). Following the syllabus of several leading anthologies, I did this for many years, but I now think that is a mistake, because it creates the impression that Hume was responding to Paley. Not only is it obvious on chronological grounds that Hume could not have been responding to Paley; it is just as obvious on textual grounds that the reverse was true: Paley was in fact responding to Hume, and, e.g., carefully crafted a non-analogical version of the argument so as to avoid Hume’s famous criticisms of analogical arguments.

Absolutism—the idea that some kinds of acts are absolutely wrong and must never be done—plays an important role in medical ethics. Nicholas Denyer has defended it from some influential consequentialist critics who have alleged that absolutism is committed to “agent-relative constraints” and therefore intolerably complex and messy. Denyer ingeniously argues that, if there are problems with agent-relative constraints, then they are problems for consequentialism, since it contains agent-relative constraints, too. I show that, despite its ingenuity, Denyer’s argument does not succeed. The defense of absolutism must move to other grounds.

This chapter focuses on one of the common fallacies in Western philosophy called the 'is/ought fallacy (IOF)'. Some philosophers conclude that the IOF is not a logical problem but an epistemological one, meaning that even if inferences like this one are logically valid, they cannot be used epistemologically to warrant anyone's real‐life moral beliefs. Arguments do not warrant their conclusions unless the premises of those arguments are themselves warranted, and in the real world, they say, no one would ever be warranted in believing premise. Charles Pigden argues for the illegitimacy of the move from is to ought, saying that we should understand David Hume as pointing to the conservativeness of logic. According to Pigden, logic is conservative in that “the conclusions of a valid inference are contained within the premises. You do not get out what you have not put in”.

“Only a God can save us.” So says Martin Heidegger in his pessimistic assessment of merely human philosophy’s ability to change the world. The thought is not unique to Heidegger: another thinker who arrived at a similar conclusion was Heidegger’s contemporary and sometime admirer, Carl Schmitt, in his idea of “political theology.” I take up Schmitt’s version of the idea and use it to examine the New Atheism, a relatively recent polemical critique of religion by an informal coalition of English-speaking scientists, philosophers, and writers. Taking Sam Har­ris’s book The End of Faith (2005) as my test case, I ask whether the New Atheism can instructively be read as a Schmittian “political theology”, not least because of its strongly anti-liberal implications for toleration of religious belief and practice. I close by posing the question of what sort of theory would deserve to be called an atheistic political theology and whether such a theory exists, or could exist.

What if human joy went on endlessly? Suppose, for example, that each human generation were followed by another, or that the Western religions are right when they teach that each human being lives eternally after death. If any such possibility is true in the actual world, then an agent might sometimes be so situated that more than one course of action would produce an infinite amount of utility. Deciding whether to have a child born this year rather than next is a situation wherein an agent may face several alternatives whose effects could well ramify endlessly on such suppositions, for the child born this year would be a different person—one who preferred different things, performed different actions, and had different descendants—from a child born next year. It has recently been suggested that traditional utilitarianism stumbles on such cases of infinite utility. Specifically, utilitarianism seems to require, for its application, that all experience of pleasure and pain cease at some time in the future or asymptotically approach zero.2 If neither of these conditions holds, then the utility produced by each of two alternative actions may turn out to be infinite, and utilitarianism thus loses its ability to discriminate morally between them.

Analytic philosophers often claim that the giving and criticizing of deductive arguments is the main or only business of philosophy. I argue that this is mistaken and show analytic philosophers also use formal schemas, distinctions, examples, and analogies so as to make some aspect of reality manifest. That is, some analytic philosophers sometimes simply try to ‘tell it like it is’. This ‘method of descriptive manifestation’ is less commonly recognized than it should be given its divergence from the self-image of analytic philosophy

The best judge of the soundness of a philosophical argument is the philosopher with the greatest philosophical aptitude, the deepest knowledge of the relevant subject matter, the most scrupulous character, and a disinterested position with respect to the subject matter. This last feature is important because even a highly intelligent and scrupulous judge may find it hard to reach the right conclusion about a subject in which he or she has a vested interest. When the subject of inquiry is the soundness of theistic arguments, the best judge will be the most intelligent and scrupulous philosopher who is also disinterested in the soundness of the theistic argument under consideration. I argue that, in this case, the disinterestedness requirement is best satisfied by the theist whose belief in God is “properly basic”, and in the course of defending this argument I uncover a little-recognized desideratum for theistic arguments.