Katherine Dormandy

Online recommender systems, such as those found on newsfeeds or e-commerce websites, give users options specifically tailored for them, and nudge users toward certain options and away from others. Transparency in such systems matters. One reason is that platforms may deploy user data for certain ends, beyond making recommendations, that users arguably have a right to know about. Another is that such systems can encode biases favoring or disadvantaging certain stakeholders. Transparency exposes these biases and other forms of potential unfairness. But what is transparency in the context of recommender systems? This question is harder than meets the eye, given the complexity of online platforms, of the variables that determine the workings of recommender-system algorithms, and of the world itself that these systems distill into data and inferences. We give an account of maximal transparency – what transparency looks like supposing that technical implementation is no obstacle. Maximal transparency itself has many dimensions that admit of degree. This paper makes an indirect contribution to the ethics of transparency for online recommender systems – not because we argue that maximal transparency is ethically desirable (it almost certainly isn’t), but because we perform the logically prior task of clarifying what it is to begin with. This gives us a limiting case of transparency along multiple dimensions, providing multiple choice points from which an ethics of transparency can be built. We also identify stakeholders whose needs would play a role in determining which dimensions and degrees of transparency would be ethically optimal.

Chapter 10 addresses how religious disagreement, like disagreement in science, stands to deliver important epistemic benefits. But religious communities typically think believers should be loyal to God; and since engaging with religious disagreement opens oneself to considering negative beliefs about God, doing so is disloyal. The chapter discusses two arguments that aim to show that religious disagreement is typically disloyal. It then argues that religious disagreement is _not_ typically disloyal, and can in fact be loyal. Finally, the chapter argues for a superior form of loyalty that is _epistemically oriented_: concerned with knowing the other party as she really is.

Gatekeeping, or determining membership of your group, is crucial to science: the moniker ‘scientific’ is a stamp of epistemic quality or even authority. But gatekeeping in science is fraught with dangers. Gatekeepers must exclude bad science, science fraud and pseudoscience, while including the disagreeing viewpoints on which science thrives. This is a difficult tightrope, not least because gatekeeping is a human matter and can be influenced by biases such as groupthink. After spelling out these general tensions around gatekeeping in science, we shed light on them with a case study from psychology. This concerns whether academic psychologists rightly or wrongly classify the applied-psychology framework of NLP (‘neuro-linguistic programming’) as unscientific and even pseudoscientific. This example of gatekeeping is particularly instructive because both the NLP community and the psychology community, we argue, make legitimate but also illegitimate moves. This case gives rise to several general insights about gatekeeping in science more generally.

Religious disagreement describes the fact that religious and secular beliefs exhibit massive variety, and cannot all be perfectly accurate. It yields a problem and an opportunity. The problem is that, especially given the apparent epistemic parity of many who hold other beliefs, you cannot suppose that your beliefs are accurate. This arguably puts pressure on you to weaken or abandon your beliefs. Responses include denying the parity of those who disa- gree, or denying that religious disagreement speaks strongly against your beliefs. I criticize these, defending an alternative epistemology to those employed by both the problem and the responses. My epistemological view finds a middle-ground between them, and positions us to benefit from the opportunity that religious disagreement offers to improve our beliefs. I ad- dress the objections that the opportunity mentality is unnecessary if God supports our beliefs, that it risks our (true) beliefs, and that it is disloyal to God.

A prominent view in religious epistemology, which I call divine-help epistemology, says that people of faith are epistemically gifted by God, whereas non-believers are subject to the noetic effects of a fallen world. This view aims to show how religious beliefs for people of faith can be epistemically justified. But I argue that it makes such people prone to a cluster of epistemic vices that I call epistemic phariseeism. Divine-help epistemology is especially apt to promote these vices because its normativity is not just epistemic, but also religious and moral. I suggest an alternative epistemological view that is better suited to religious faith.

I argue that faith is a type of trust. It is also part of a relationship in which both parties are called on to be faithful, where faithfulness is a type of trustworthiness. What distinguishes faith relationships from trust relationships is that both parties value the faith relationship intrinsically. I discuss how faith on this account can, and cannot, be rational when it goes beyond a person’s evidence. It turns out that faith has the same rationality conditions as trust, differing from it only in the cases that fix our intuitions.

ABSTRACT Is it good to form positive beliefs about those you have faith in, such as God or a religious community? Doxastic partialists say that it is. Some hold that it is good, from the viewpoint of faith, to form positive beliefs about the object of your faith even when your evidence favours negative ones. Others try to maintain respect for evidence by appealing to a highly permissive epistemology. I argue against both forms of doxastic partiality, on the grounds that they foster an epistemically problematic noetic entrenchment. I instead defend evidentialism—the view that it is good to strive for true beliefs about the object of your faith, be they positive or negative, given relatively stringent evidential norms. I address the objection that evidentialism fosters disloyalty to the other party, not least because it risks losing your faith altogether. What emerges are not just epistemic norms for beliefs about religious matters, but an evidentialist account of what makes for good faith itself.

This paper responds to comments on the paper "True Faith: Against Doxastic Partiality about Faith (in God and Religious Communities) and in Defense of Evidentialism" (Australasian Philosophical Review). I begin with some clarifications on faith and its normativity (section 1). I then zero in on doxastic normativity (section 2), where an ideological rift emerges between evidentialism and partialist critiques (section 3). I then discuss evidentialist reason and its relationship to objectivity (section 4), and the sort of norms at issue (section 5).

If you love someone, is it good to believe better of her than epistemic norms allow? The partiality view says that it is: love, on this view, issues norms of belief that clash with epistemic norms. The partiality view is supposedly supported by an analogy between beliefs and actions, by the phenomenology of love, and by the idea that love commits us to the loved one’s good character. I argue that the partiality view is false, and defend what I call the epistemic view. On the epistemic view, love also issues norms of belief. But these say simply that you should adhere to epistemic norms in forming and maintaining beliefs about loved ones. I offer two arguments for the epistemic view. The first appeals to the emotional responses of love, which, when sensitive to what the loved one is really like, can make love great and be morally transformative. The second is a new argument for why caring for a loved one requires true beliefs about him. We see that there may be some boundaries, such as stuffy traditions, that love is right to defy, but that epistemic boundaries are not among them.

Intellectual humility has something important in common with trust: both, independently, help secure knowledge. But they also do so in tandem, and this chapter discusses how. Intellectual humility is a virtue of a person’s cognitive character; this means that it disposes her to perceive and think in certain ways that help promote knowledge. Trust is a form of cooperation, in which one person depends on another (or on herself) for some end, in a way that is governed by certain norms. Epistemic trust is trust for epistemic ends, where the one that I will focus on here is knowledge. When the parties to an epistemic-trust relationship exhibit intellectual humility, I will argue, they are in a better position than otherwise to secure knowledge. Some think that this is true trivially, on the grounds that knowledge (on their view) is constituted by the exercise of epistemic virtues. Whether or not this is so, I will focus on two different ways in which intellectual humility makes epistemic trust knowledge-conducive: first, it equips trusters to invest trust effectively – that is, in those who are trustworthy; second, it equips trustees to be epistemically trustworthy.

What is epistemic self-trust? There is a tension in the way in which prominent accounts answer this question. Many construe epistemic trust in oneself as no more than reliance on our sub-personal cognitive faculties. Yet many accounts – often the same ones – construe epistemic trust in others as a normatively laden attitude directed at persons whom we expect to care about our epistemic needs. Is epistemic self-trust really so different from epistemic trust in others? I argue that it is not. We certainly do rely on our cognitive faculties to achieve epistemic ends; but I argue that we also have the normatively rich sort of epistemic trust in ourselves. Moreover, there is a theoretical need for this normatively rich notion of epistemic self-trust: positing it yields the best account of how we secure important epistemic goods, including knowledge and recognition as knowers. I argue this by giving an account of epistemic trust in others and showing that it can be generalized to epistemic trust in oneself.

Medical science conceives the human body as a system comprised of many subsystems at a variety of levels. At the highest level are bodily systems proper, such as the endocrine system, which are central to our understanding of human anatomy, and play a key role in diagnosis and in dynamic modeling as well as in medical pedagogy and computer visualization. But there is no explicit definition of what a bodily system is; such informality is acceptable in documentation created for human beings, but falls short of what is needed for computer representations. Our analysis is intended as a first step towards filling this gap.

Digital technology is rapidly transforming human life. But our cognition is honed for an analog world. I call this the problem of digital whiplash: that the digital transformation of society, like a vehicle whose sudden acceleration injures its occupants, is too fast to be safe. I focus on the unprecedented phenomenon of digital surveillance, which I argue poses a long-term threat to human autonomy that our cognition is ill-suited to recognize or respond to. Human cognition is embodied and context-sensitive, and thus faces four problems of digital whiplash vis-à-vis digital surveillance. First is the problem of signal sparsity, that there are few if any perceptible indications of digital surveillance. Second is the problem of signal elusiveness, that the few indications there are prohibitively difficult to discover. Third is the distraction problem, that using digital technologies corrodes the cognitive abilities we need to recognize and respond to digital surveillance. Fourth is the hooking problem, that digital technologies are engineered to cultivate dependency. I address, among other objections, the idea that we choose to exchange our privacy for the use of digital technologies, so their use is in fact an expression of autonomy. The response to digital whiplash, I argue, is not to slow down the digitalization of society in its current form so that we can adapt our cognitive capacities. It is to allow ourselves the time to reflect on and debate whether digitalization, in its current form, is delivering a socially and ethically desirable future.

Wir leben in einem Zeitalter der religiösen Vielfalt. Es gibt viele unterschiedliche und scheinbar inkompatible religiöse und säkulare Glaubensformen, die einander mit einer erstaunlichen Intensität und Geschwindigkeit dank Globalisierung und sozialen Medien begegnen. Damit wächst die Einsicht, dass das eigene Überzeugungssystem nicht mehr einfach als gegeben und plausibel anzunehmen ist. Aufgrund dieser neuen Entwicklungen haben sich in den letzten Jahren intensive philosophische Diskussionen ergeben.

Some religious communities argue that public policy is best decided by their own members, on the grounds that collaborating with those reasoning from secular or “worldly” perspectives will only foment error about how society should be run. But I argue that epistemology instead recommends fostering disagreement among a plurality of religious and secular worldviews. Inter-worldview disagreement over public policy can challenge our unquestioned assumptions, deliver evidence we would likely have missed, and expose us to new epistemic alternatives; when done respectfully, it can also combat epistemically problematic biases and groupthink. I address two objections that members of a politically active religious community might raise: one that inter-worldview disagreement about public policy is not needed because one’s own beliefs are already true, and another that it is not needed because one’s own beliefforming processes are divinely guided.