Neil Levy

Theories of self-deception divide into those that hold that the state is characterized by some kind of synchronic tension or conflict between propositional attitudes and those that deny this. Proponents of the latter like Al Mele claim that their theories are more parsimonious, because they do not require us to postulate any psychological mechanisms beyond those which have been independently verified. But if we can show that there are real cases of motivated believing which are characterized by conflicting propositional attitudes, however, the parsimony argument against incongruent mental state accounts is undermined. I argue that anosognosia presents us with a real-life example of motivated belief together with (sub)-doxastic conflict

Nicholas Agar has recently argued that it would be irrational for future human beings to choose to radically enhance themselves by uploading their minds onto computers. Utilizing Searle’s argument that machines cannot think, he claims that uploading might entail death. He grants that Searle’s argument is controversial, but he claims, so long as there is a non-zero probability that uploading entails death, uploading is irrational. I argue that Agar’s argument, like Pascal’s wager on which it is modelled, fails, because the principle that we (or future agents) ought to avoid actions that might entail death is not action guiding. Too many actions fall under its scope for the principle to be plausible. I also argue that the probability that uploading entails death is likely to be lower than Agar recognizes.

ABSTRACT We frequently accuse heavy drinkers and drug users of self‐deception if they refuse to admit that they are addicted. However, given the ways in which we usually conceptualize it, acknowledging addiction merely involves swapping one form of self‐deception for another. We ask addicts to see themselves as in the grip of an irresistible desire, and to accept that addiction is an essentially physiological process. To the extent this is so, we, as much as the addicts, suffer from self‐deception, and the responsibility for their state is in part ours. Conversely, since addicts are compelled to accept a self‐deceptive image of themselves, they are at least partially excused from blame for their self‐deception.

It is sometimes objected that we cannot adopt skepticism about moral responsibility, because the criminal justice system plays an indispensable social function. In this paper, I examine the implications of moral responsibility skepticism for the punishment of those convicted of crime, with special attention to recent arguments by Saul Smilansky. Smilansky claims that the skeptic is committed to fully compensating the incarcerated for their detention, and that this compensation would both be too costly to be practical and would remove the deterrent function from incarceration. I argue that the skeptic is not committed to full compensation of the offender, and that the costs of such compensation would in any case be far smaller than Smilansky thinks. In fact, I claim, the costs of the criminal justice system to which the skeptic is committed might be very much lower than the costs – economic, social and moral – we currently pay as a consequence of our system of punishment.

The self-deceived are usually held to be moral responsible for their state. I argue that this attribution of responsibility makes sense only against the background of the traditional conception of self-deception, a conception that is now widely rejected. In its place, a new conception of self-deception has been articulated, which requires neither intentional action by self-deceived agents, nor that they possess contradictory beliefs. This new conception has neither need nor place for attributions of moral responsibility to the self-deceived in paradigmatic cases. Accordingly, we should take the final step toward abandoning the traditional conception, and drop the automatic attribution of responsibility. Self-deception is simply a kind of mistake, and has no more necessary connection to culpability than have other intellectual errors

In this article we survey six recent developments in the philosophical literature on free will and moral responsibility: (1) Harry Frankfurt's argument that moral responsibility does not require the freedom to do otherwise; (2) the heightened focus upon the source of free actions; (3) the debate over whether moral responsibility is an essentially historical concept; (4) recent compatibilist attempts to resurrect the thesis that moral responsibility requires the freedom to do otherwise; (5) the role of the control condition in free will and moral responsibility, and finally (6) the debate centering on luck.

I develop an account of weakness of the will that is driven by experimental evidence from cognitive and social psychology. I will argue that this account demonstrates that there is no such thing as weakness of the will: no psychological kind corresponds to it. Instead, weakness of the will ought to be understood as depletion of System II resources. Neither the explanatory purposes of psychology nor our practical purposes as agents are well-served by retaining the concept. I therefore suggest that we ought to jettison it, in favour of the vocabulary and concepts of cognitive psychology.

The extended mind thesis is the claim that mental states extend beyond the skulls of the agents whose states they are. This seemingly obscure and bizarre claim has far-reaching implications for neuroethics, I argue. In the first half of this article, I sketch the extended mind thesis and defend it against criticisms. In the second half, I turn to its neuroethical implications. I argue that the extended mind thesis entails the falsity of the claim that interventions into the brain are especially problematic just because they are internal interventions, but that many objections to such interventions rely, at least in part, on this claim. Further, I argue that the thesis alters the focus of neuroethics, away from the question of whether we ought to allow interventions into the mind, and toward the question of which interventions we ought to allow and under what conditions. The extended mind thesis dramatically expands the scope of neuroethics: because interventions into the environment of agents can count as interventions into their minds, decisions concerning such interventions become questions for neuroethics

In a recent article, George Sher argues that a realistic conception of human agency, which recognizes the limited extent to which we are conscious of what we do, makes the task of specifying a conception of the kind of control that underwrites ascriptions of moral responsibility much more difficult than is commonly appreciated. Sher suggests that an adequate account of control will not require that agents be conscious of their actions; we are responsible for what we do, in the absence of consciousness, so long as our obliviousness is explained by some subset of the mental states constitutive of the agent. In this response, I argue that Sher is wrong on every count. First, the account of moral responsibility in the absence of consciousness he advocates does not preserve control at all; rather, it ought to be seen as a variety of attributionism (a kind of account of moral responsibility which holds that control is unnecessary for responsibility, so long as the action is reflective of the agent’s real self). Second, I argue that a realistic conception of agency, that recognizes the limited role that consciousness plays in human life, narrows the scope of moral responsibility. We exercise control over our actions only when consciousness has played a direct or indirect role in their production. Moreover, we cannot escape this conclusion by swapping a volitionist account of moral responsibility for an attributionist account: our actions are deeply reflective of our real selves only when consciousness has played a causal role in their production.

I distinguish and assess three separate arguments utilized by the opponents of cochlear implants: that treating deafness as a medical condition is inappropriate since it is not a disability; that so treating it sends a message to the Deaf that they are of lesser worth; and that the use of such implants would signal the end of Deaf culture. I give some qualified support to the first and second claim, but find that the principal weight of the argument must be borne by the third argument: that use of the cochlear implants is impermissible because Deaf culture is intrinsically valuable. I show that this claim is, in practice, incompatible with the claim that deafness is not a disability: that the significant disadvantages suffered by the hearing impaired can only be corrected by measures that would end Deaf culture. Since the potential recipients of cochlear implants are, in the main, the prelingually deaf children of hearing parents, the burden of banning the implants would be borne by people who are not members of Deaf culture, and who owe that culture nothing over and above what we all owe cultures in general. I conclude that we cannot ask the parents of these children to sacrifice the interests of their children for the sake of Deaf culture.

ABSTRACT Many people now believe that human reproductive cloning – once sufficiently safe and effective – should be permitted on the grounds that it will allow the otherwise infertile to have children that are biologically closely related to them. However, though it is widely believed that the possession of a close genetic link to our children is morally significant and valuable, we argue that such a view is erroneous. Moreover, the claim that the genetic link is valuable is pernicious; it tends to give rise to highly undesirable consequences, and therefore should be combated rather than pandered to. The emphasis on the genetic is unwarranted and unfortunate; rather than giving us moral reason to support reproductive cloning in the case of infertility, the fact that cloning requests are likely to be motivated by the genetic argument gives us reason to oppose its availability.

The recent debate over the moral responsibility of psychopaths has centered on whether, or in what sense, they understand moral requirements. In this paper, I argue that even if they do understand what morality requires, the content of their actions is not of the right kind to justify full-blown blame. I advance two independent justifications of this claim. First, I argue that if the psychopath comes to know what morality requires via a route that does not involve a proper appreciation of what it means to cause another harm or distress, the content of violations of rules against harm will be of a lower grade than the content of similar actions by normal individuals. Second, I argue that in order to intend a harm to a person—that is, to intend the distinctive kind of harm that can only befall a person—it is necessary to understand what personhood is and what makes it valuable. The psychopath's deficits with regard to mental time travel ensure that s/he cannot intend this kind of harm.

The recent debate over the moral responsibility of psychopaths has centered on whether, or in what sense, they understand moral requirements. In this paper, I argue that even if they do understand what morality requires, the content of their actions is not of the right kind to justify full-blown blame. I advance two independent justifications of this claim. First, I argue that if the psychopath comes to know what morality requires via a route that does not involve a proper appreciation of what it means to cause another harm or distress, the content of violations of rules against harm will be of a lower grade than the content of similar actions by normal individuals. Second, I argue that in order to intend a harm to a person?that is, to intend the distinctive kind of harm that can only befall a person?it is necessary to understand what personhood is and what makes it valuable. The psychopath's deficits with regard to mental time travel ensure that s/he cannot intend this kind of harm.

Implicit attitudes are mental states that appear sometimes to cause agents to act in ways that conflict with their considered beliefs. Implicit attitudes are usually held to be mere associations between representations. Recently, however, some philosophers have suggested that they are, or are very like, ordinary beliefs: they are apt to feature in properly inferential processing. This claim is important, in part because there is good reason to think that the vocabulary in which we make moral assessments of ourselves and of others is keyed to folk psychological concepts, like ‘belief’, and not to concepts that feature only in scientific psychology: if implicit attitudes are beliefs there is a prima facie case for thinking that they can serve as the basis for particular kinds of moral assessment. In this paper I argue that while implicit attitudes have propositional structure, their sensitivity and responsiveness to other mental representations is too patchy and fragmented for them to properly be considered beliefs. Instead, they are a sui generis kind of mental state, a state I dub patchy endorsements

Neuroethics is a rapidly growing subfield, straddling applied ethics, moral psychology and philosophy of mind. It has clear affinities to bioethics, inasmuch as both are responses to new developments in science and technology, but its scope is far broader and more ambitious because neuroethics is as much concerned with how the sciences of the mind illuminate traditional philosophical questions as it is with questions concerning the permissibility of using technologies stemming from these sciences. In this article, I sketch the two branches of neuroethics, the applied and the philosophical, and illustrate how they interact. I also consider representative themes from each: the ethics of dampening memory and of cognitive enhancement, on the one hand, and the attack upon the reliability of deontological intuitions and upon free will, on the other.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Norms, Conventions, and PsychopathsNeil Levy (bio)Keywordspsychopathy, morality, conventions, responsibilityI am grateful to my commentators for their provocative challenges to my claim that psychopaths ought to be excused moral responsibility for their wrongdoing owing to their (alleged) failure to grasp the moral/conventional distinction. I have learned from all the commentators—now, and in some cases in the past as well—and I am sincerely honored by their having taken my work seriously enough to comment on it, even if only to take issue with it. In what follows, I shall attempt to reply to their main criticisms. As will shortly become clear, I do not here have the space for anything like adequate responses. Instead, I shall have to content myself with programmatic statements of how such responses might go. Let me admit at the outset that until the details of these responses are fully worked out, and the relevant empirical research conduced, I cannot be sure that the responses will succeed. Nevertheless, there are grounds for confidence, given the available data.Because there is some overlap between the criticisms, I shall address some of them—those of Blair, Nichols, and Vargas—by topic rather than by commentator, before turning to Mullen and Matravers.Is the Ability to Understand the Moral/Conventional Distinction a Necessary Condition of Aptness for Moral Responsibility?Blair, as well as Vargas and Nichols, suggests that an agent's knowing that an action is against the rules might be sufficient to ground responsibility for performing that action, even if the agent lacks the ability to draw the moral/conventional distinction. As Blair points out, we do not reserve blame only for those who violate moral rules. Blame, and sometimes punishments, are also meted out to those who violate merely conventional norms. Because psychopaths can understand conventional norms perfectly well, they may therefore seem to be appropriate targets of at least some kind of moral blame.But is it really the case that agents are (ever) blameworthy for violating conventional norms alone? Many philosophers, for instance when considering the morality of civil disobedience, have argued that conventional norms are typically backed by second-order moral norms. Hence, for many or all conventional norms, there is a (defeasible) moral obligation not to violate that norm, an obligation independent of the content of the conventional norm; it is because there are such second-order moral obligations that agents are blameworthy for violating conventional norms. [End Page 163] But if this is the case, then the fact that we sometimes blame agents for violating conventional norms is not evidence against the claim that the ability to grasp moral norms is a necessary condition of blameworthiness. There is no reason to think that psychopaths will find it any easier to grasp second-order moral norms than first-order (of course, they may understand that there are such things as second-order norms—norms concerning norms—but for them such norms will only be conventional). In fact, it might be more difficult to understand the moral force of second-order moral norms than first, inasmuch as the harms caused by violating such norms are emotional and not physical. Normal subjects invest (some) conventional norms with moral significance, and it is for this reason that we regard violations of such norms as apt to give rise to blame; lacking the ability to draw the moral/conventional distinction, psychopaths cannot invest such norms with moral significance. Once again, for them these norms are merely conventional, and they therefore fail to grasp the full significance of violating them.It might be objected that if conventional transgressions are (sometimes) backed up by second-order moral norms, children would not classify them as neatly as they do. They would misclassify some conventional norms as moral, insofar as they are backed up by second-order moral norms. They would therefore deny that violations of conventions are permissible on the say-so of an authority. There are two possible explanations of children's classifications, compatible with the suggestion that some conventions are backed by second-order moral norms. First, it may be that greater cognitive sophistication is required to grasp second-order moral norms than...

The aim of this article is to argue, by example, for neuroethics as a new way of doing ethics. Rather than simply giving us a new subject matter—the ethical issues arising from neuroscience—to attend to, neuroethics offers us the opportunity to refine the tools we use. Ethicists often need to appeal to the intuitions provoked by consideration of cases to evaluate the permissibility of types of actions; data from the sciences of the mind give us reason to believe that some of these intuitions are less reliable than others. I focus on the doctrine of double effect to illustrate my case, arguing that experimental results suggest that appeal to it might be question-begging. The doctrine of double effect is supposed to show that there is a moral difference between effects that are brought about intentionally and those that are merely foreseen; I argue that the data suggest that we regard some effects as merely foreseen only because we regard bringing them about as permissible. Appeal to the doctrine of double effect therefore cannot establish that there are such moral differences.