Berislav Marušić

In their article “Grit,” Jennifer Morton and Sarah Paul put forward an account of the rationality of grit. They argue that the gritty agent is epistemically resilient in her response to evidence of incapacity, and she is rational in doing so, insofar as such a response is epistemically permissible once she has taken on a commitment to pursuing a goal. In the present discussion, I argue that Morton and Paul disregard the significance of freedom for understanding the rationality of grit. Their view thus faces the problems of how to coordinate deliberation prior to committing to a goal with deliberation afterwards, and of how to understand the self-consciousness of grit. As an alternative, I propose that the rationality of grit should be understood in terms of an agent’s license to settle matters that are partly up to her through practical reasoning, precisely to the extent that they are up to her. Thus, grit can be understood as an instance of diachronic practical rationality.

It is common to think of reflection as giving rise to second order belief. Yet then it is open to Kornblith's critique: Why wouldn’t the problems that arise the first order not arise at the second order as well? And why should we think of reflection as reliable—especially since empirical research shows it not to be? In this chapter, I argue that the problem lies not with reflection as such but with Kornblith’s conception of reflection as second order belief. This conception is distorting because it reifies the mind: it conceptualizes our believing something as being the kind of thing that persists as it is, independently of our attitudes. Yet our beliefs do not persist as they are, independently of our attitudes, precisely because they form part of our attitudes. Instead, I conjecture, reflection brings into view the way in which our beliefs and other attitudes are essentially social.

A prominent theory of belief holds that belief is transparent, in the sense that one should, and normally will, settle the question of whether one believes p by settling the corresponding question about whether p. Transparency is held to be a normative requirement and also crucial to understanding the distinctive nature of knowledge of one’s own beliefs. In this paper, we argue that the transparency requirement, as well as our doxastic self-knowledge, must themselves be explained by the social role of belief. We hold that to believe p transparently is to be prepared to contribute p to shared reasoning with others, and to self-ascribe the belief that p transparently is to make explicit that one would contribute p to shared reasoning. On this basis, we argue that understanding our normative epistemic relationships to other people is surprisingly fundamental to explaining distinctive features of knowledge of our own beliefs.

Stephen J. White (1983-2021) was developing a comprehensive view of responsibility and its limits when his life was tragically cut short. This volume contains his collected papers. White's view of responsibility spans across ethics, action theory, and interpersonal epistemology. Its core idea is that to be responsible for doing or believing something is to be answerable for why one has done it or why one believes it, and to be responsible for a state of affairs is to be answerable for why things are that way, rather than some other way. White deploys this conception of responsibility to illuminate the notions of autonomy, coercion, shared reasoning, self-prediction, doxastic wronging, and peer disagreement. He also investigates the nature of practical reasoning: he argues against a production-oriented conception of practical reasoning, delineates the scope of transmission principles in means-ends reasoning, and identifies a limited for self-prediction in practical reasoning that is subject to an anti-opportunism constraint. The papers form the outline of a deep ethical outlook that takes seriously our personal and collective responsibilities and yet leaves room for personal autonomy both in thought and in action.

Suppose we suffer or witness an injustice. Often we will respond with a combination of anger, grief, resentment, indignation, or horror. And it seems that this is how it should be: the injustice is the reason for our emotional response. However, it is a striking fact that our anger, grief, or horror will diminish over time, often fairly quickly, even if the injustice persists. We accommodate ourselves to the injustice. Indeed, this is good for us, and it may even seem appropriate; it is often wrong to dwell on a wrong. But how could accommodation be appropriate if the injustice remains unchanged? And how could we make sense of accommodation when we anticipate it? This chapter argues that accommodation to injustice poses an insurmountable problem for understanding our emotional response to injustice and reveals something incomprehensible at the heart of our moral outlook.

Anscombe famously said, “It is an insult and it may be an injury not to be believed.” But what is it to believe someone? My aim is to show that understanding what it is to believe someone requires a conception of a distinctive kind of interpersonal reasoning. To do so, I develop an analogy between interpersonal reasoning and an Anscombean conception of practical reasoning. I suggest that the distinctive ‘form’ of interpersonal reasoning is recognition. I furthermore argue that this is to be understood as a primarily logical, rather than epistemological point. In concluding, I explain why a notion of interpersonal reasoning makes available an ethics of thought and, specifically, an account of testimonial injustice.

This paper offers an analytic reconstruction of Sartre’s theory of radical freedom. On the proposed interpretation, freedom is radical, because the freely chosen act and the reasons for choice are codependent: the freely chosen act grounds reasons by being based on them. Nonetheless, since freedom is embodied, there can be constraint on choice. Such constraint becomes intelligible once we properly understand the temporality of freedom. The chapter illustrates this through a close reading of Sartre’s example of the gambler and argues that it is part of the gambler’s mistake to think that all resolutions have to be remade at every instant _ex nihilo_.

This paper proposes to reorient the philosophical debate about peer disagreement. The problem of peer disagreement is normally seen as a problem about the extent to which disagreement provides one with evidence against one's own conclusions. It is thus regarded as a problem for individual inquiry. But things look different in more collaborative contexts. Ethical norms relevant to those contexts make a difference to the epistemology. In particular, we argue that a norm of mutual answerability applies to us when we engage in shared inquiry with others, and precludes us from treating one another's conflicting judgments as evidence relevant to the dispute. From this it follows that standard philosophical accounts of peer disagreement—e.g., the Equal Weight View and the Total Evidence View—presuppose that the disagreeing parties are in a sense alienated from one another. It's doubtful that such forms of alienated disagreement should be treated as the central case.

Existentialist philosophy has, at times, been exceptionally popular. This is because of its promise of possibility, both in doctrine and in style: Its doctrine promises that we can break free from the shackles of cognitive or social structures we are thrown into, and we can overcome our marred personal or collective history. Its style promises that philosophy can be exciting, moving, exhilarating, and funny. Analytic Existentialism brings together ten essays in which analytic philosophers engage with existentialism. The essays take up central existentialist themes, such as freedom, consciousness, and bad faith. Some bring existentialist ideas to bear on issues in contemporary analytic philosophy; some engage analytically with existentialist concerns; some employ the methods of analytic philosophy to interpret existentialist texts; and some articulate how existentialist insights speak to ongoing matters of concern outside of philosophy. All essays, taken together, make good on the existentialist promise for analytic philosophy: Even as analytic philosophers, we can embrace the thought that freedom is at the heart of our being. And even as analytic philosophers, we can write philosophical texts that capture the imagination. We trust that these essays can rekindle the excitement of philosophical thought.

In their article “Grit,” Jennifer Morton and Sarah Paul put forward an account of the rationality of grit. They argue that the gritty agent is epistemically resilient in her response to evidence of incapacity, and she is rational in doing so, insofar as such a response is epistemically permissible once she has taken on a commitment to pursuing a goal. In the present discussion, I argue that Morton and Paul disregard the significance of freedom for understanding the rationality of grit. Their view thus faces the problems of how to coordinate deliberation prior to committing to a goal with deliberation afterwards, and of how to understand the self-consciousness of grit. As an alternative, I propose that the rationality of grit should be understood in terms of an agent’s license to settle matters that are partly up to her through practical reasoning, precisely to the extent that they are up to her. Thus, grit can be understood as an instance of diachronic practical rationality.

Many emotions attenuate more rapidly than the significance of the considerations that gives rise to them as we accommodate ourselves to what happens. Grief often diminishes quickly, even though the dead continue to matter to us; anger often evaporates, even though the injustice to which it responds remains undiminished. Nonetheless, such accommodation seems acceptable: it would be a mistake to be persistently grieving or to be relentlessly angry. But how could it be acceptable, if the reasons for grief and anger remain significant? Unlike grief and anger, whose diminution is puzzling, what seems puzzling in the case of love is its continuation. In its self-consciousness, love is endless; in loving someone, we foresee no end to our love. Yet we know that love can end: hearts are broken, lovers betrayed, and people grow apart. Does the self-consciousness of love involve a mistake? Or can we reasonably think of our love as lasting? On the Temporality of Emotions argues that whereas grief and anger reasonably diminish, love can rationally be conceived as endless. Berislav Marušić draws on contemporary theories of the emotions, especially grief and love, as well as recent accounts of reasons. It puts forward an account of emotional self-consciousness as, at once, embodied and rational, and maintains that accommodation reveals an irreconcilable moment in our emotional life, a moment that philosophical reflection ought not seek to resolve, lest our emotions are conceived as too neat, and philosophy as too comforting.

How does evidence figure into the reasoning of an agent? This is an intricate philosophical problem but also one we all encounter in our daily lives. In this chapter, we identify the problem and outline a possible solution to it. The problem arises, because the fact that it is up to us whether we do something makes a difference to how we should think of the evidence concerning whether we will actually do it. Otherwise we regard something that is up to us as if it were not: We regard something that is up to us as if it were the outcome of a lottery. Nonetheless, we would be wrong to ignore the evidence. Otherwise we could not make a rational decision. In this chapter, we first show that a decision-theoretic approach to this problem cannot succeed. This approach does not explain how we can take evidence into account in practical reasoning without making predictions concerning matters that are up to us. It also gives rise to incoherence between our practical and our theoretical conclusions. We then argue that what is required to solve the problem is recognizing that beliefs about matters that are up to us can be grounded in practical reasoning. We argue that such beliefs are not subject to an evidential norm, because they are not meant to reflect a reality that is independent of them but instead are meant to bring about the reality they represent. Finally, we argue that, even if we are fully rational agents, we will sometimes lack practical knowledge of what we will do. That is because when it is practically rational to do something that will require resolve, we may be in a position to rationally conclude that we will do it, even though we have evidence that there is a non-negligible chance that we won’t. In such cases, our evidence serves as a defeater for our practical knowledge.

We take a tremendous interest in how other people think of us. We have certain expectations of others, concerning how we are to figure in their thought and judgment. And we often feel wronged if those are disappointed. But it is puzzling how others’ beliefs could wrong us. On the one hand, moral considerations don’t bear on the truth of a belief and so seem to be the wrong kind of reasons for belief. On the other hand, truth-directed considerations seem to render moral considerations redundant. In this paper, we argue that to understand the possibility of doxastic wronging, we need to understand beliefs, no less than actions, as ways of relating to one another. In particular, how we take account of what others think and say will depend on whether we take up what P. F. Strawson calls the participant stance toward them. We show how this helps to make sense of an example Miranda Fricker identifies as a case of epistemic injustice. We then use the example to spell out the ethical significance of Tyler Burge’s idea that we have a default entitlement to accept at face value what we receive from a rational source.

Suppose we suffer a loss, such as the death of a loved one. In light of her death, we will typically feel grief, as it seems we should. After all, our loved one’s death is a reason for grief. Yet with the passage of time, our grief will typically diminish, and this seems somehow all right. However, our reason for grief ostensibly remains the same, since the passage of time does not undo our loss. How, then, could it not be wrong for grief to diminish? Or how are we to make sense of the diminution of grief? Do reasons expire? —The paper clarifies the puzzle and then considers four responses. It argues that all of them are inadequate and that there are principled reasons why this should be so: In experiencing grief we are apprehending a loss. Yet in our effort to understand the diminution of grief, we must apprehend ourselves. But because grief is not about ourselves, our apprehension of the diminution of grief is at odds with our apprehension of the object of grief. This gives rise to a kind of double-vision, which is why the puzzle eludes a solution.

Suppose you decide or promise to do something that you have evidence is difficult to do. Should you believe that you will do it? On the one hand, if you believe that you will do it, your belief goes against the evidence—since having evidence that it’s difficult to do it constitutes evidence that it is likely that you won’t do it. On the other hand, if you don’t believe that you will do it but instead believe, as your evidence suggests, that it is likely that you will fail, your decision is not serious and your promise is not sincere. This problem—I call it the Epistemological Problem of Difficult Action—is a pressing philosophical problem that each of us faces. In this paper I consider several possible responses to it. I conclude that the right response is to say that we should believe against the evidence. Cases in which we decide or promise to do something that we have evidence is difficult to do are the best counterexamples to evidentialism.

It is common to think of the attitude of trust as involving reliance of some sort. For example, Annette Baier argues that trust is reliance on the good will of others, and Richard Holton argues that trust is reliance from a participant stance. However, it is puzzling how trust could involve reliance, because reliance, unlike trust, is responsive to practical reasons: we rely in light of reasons that show it worthwhile to rely, but we don’t trust in light of reasons that show it worthwhile to trust. To address the puzzle, I sketch an account of reliance, according to which reliance consists in action, and I sketch an account of trust, according to which trust consists in belief held from a participant stance. I conclude that it is plausible to see trust as the grounds for reliance.

There is often something wrong with merely promising to try to φ. In this article I explain what is wrong with such promises. I argue that a promise to try to φ, when it is entirely up to us to φ, is always wrong because it hides a possible choice under the veil of our susceptibility to circumstances beyond our control. I furthermore argue that this is often also the case when matters are not entirely up to us. Finally, I contend that sometimes the promise to try places undue burdens on the promisee.

We argue that intentions are beliefs—beliefs that are held in light of, and made rational by, practical reasoning. To intend to do something is neither more nor less than to believe, on the basis of one’s practical reasoning, that one will do it. The identification of the mental state of intention with the mental state of belief is what we call strong cognitivism about intentions. It is a strong form of cognitivism because we identify intentions with beliefs, rather than maintaining that beliefs are entailed by intentions or are components of them.

The ethics of belief is concerned with the question what we should believe. According to evidentialism, one should believe something if and only if one has adequate evidence for what one believes. According to classic pragmatism, other features besides evidence, such as practical reasons, can make it the case that one should believe something. According to a new kind of pragmatism, some epistemic notions may depend on one’s practical interests, even if what one should believe is independent of one’s practical reasons. In this paper I recount and briefly assess the debate between evidentialism and pragmatism.

We often promise to ϕ despite having evidence that there is a significant chance that we won’t ϕ. This gives rise to a pressing philosophical problem: Are we irresponsible in making such promises since, it seems, we are insincere or irrational in making them? I argue that we needn’t be. When it’s up to us to ϕ, our practical reasons for ϕ-ing partly determine whether it is rational for us to believe that we will ϕ. That is why we can sometimes rationally believe that we will ϕ even if our belief goes against the evidence.

Skepticism seems to have excessive consequences: the impossibility of successful enquiry and differentiated judgment. Yet if skepticism could avoid these consequences, it would seem idle. I offer an account of moderate skepticism that avoids both problems. Moderate skepticism avoids excessiveness because skeptical reflection and ordinary enquiry are immune from one another: a skeptical hypothesis is out of place when raised with in an ordinary enquiry. Conversely, the result of an ordinary enquiry cannot be used to disprove skepticism. This ‘immunity’ can be explained by theories such as contextualism, or sensitive invariantism. Moderate skepticism avoids idleness, because it can eliminate dogmatic elements from our commitments. An analogy is used to illustrate this: Consider someone who is rootless—someone who doesn't have a home. She won't take this conclusion to undermine her judgment that she is flying home for the holidays—even if she is sleeping in the guest bedroom. Similarly, a skeptic won't take the skeptical conclusion to undermine ordinary claims to know. Yet concluding that one is rootless is significant: it can shape one's commitments; for instance it can check one's nationalism. Similarly, accepting the skeptical conclusion is significant; it can undermine dogmatic commitments and ultimately bring about intellectual catharsis

If we hold that perceiving is sufficient for knowing, we can raise a powerful objection to dreaming skepticism: Skeptics assume the implausible KK-principle, because they hold that if we don’t know whether we are dreaming or perceiving p, we don’t know whether p. The rejection of the KK-principle thus suggests an anti-skeptical strategy: We can sacrifice some of our self-knowledge—our second-order knowledge—and thereby save our knowledge of the external world. I call this strategy the Self-Knowledge Gambit. I argue that the Self-Knowledge Gambit is not satisfactory, because the dreaming skeptic can avail herself of a normative counterpart to the KK-principle: When we lack second-order knowledge, we should suspend our first-order beliefs and thereby give up any first-order knowledge we might have had. The skeptical challenge is essentially a normative challenge, and one can raise it even if one rejects the KK-Principle

In the First Meditation, the Cartesian meditator temporarily concludes that he cannot know anything, because he cannot discriminate dreaming from waking while he is dreaming. To resist the meditator’s conclusion, one could deploy an asymmetry argument. Following Bernard Williams, one could argue that even if the meditator cannot discriminate dreaming from waking while dreaming, it does not follow that he cannot do it while awake. In general, asymmetry arguments seek to identify an asymmetry between a bad case that is entertained as a ground for doubt and a good case in which one takes oneself to know something. My aim in this paper is to consider how effective asymmetry arguments are as an anti-skeptical strategy. I conclude that although asymmetry arguments provide an effective response to dreaming skepticism, they fail as a response to brains-in-a-vat skepticism

An influential view, defended by Thomas Scanlon and others, holds that desires are almost never reasons. I seek to resist this view and show that someone who desires something does thereby have a reason to satisfy her desire. To show this, I argue, first, that the desires of some others are reasons for us and, second, that our own desires are no less reason-giving than those of others. In concluding, I emphasize that accepting my view does not commit one to a desire-based account of reasons. Desires can be simply one kind of reasons alongside many others