Derek Matravers

The destruction of cultural heritage in war is currently attracting considerable attention. ISIS’s campaign of deliberate destruction across the Middle East was met with widespread horror and calls for some kind of international response. The United States attracted criticism for both its accidental damaging of Ancient Babylon in 2015 and its failure to protect the Mosul Museum from looters in 2003. In 2016, the International Criminal Court prosecuted its first case of the destruction of heritage as a war crime. While the destruction of heritage is widely condemned, there has also been condemnation of calls to mobilize our resources for the sake of heritage protection when human beings face threats to life and limb. Such issues are both philosophically rich and personally significant to a wide range of people. And yet they have been largely neglected by academic philosophers. This book makes a substantial contribution to developing this new philosophical territory. The contributors are a mixture of internationally recognized authorities in their fields and early-career researchers working in this area. Their eleven original essays investigate a variety of philosophical and ethical issues arising from the phenomenon of heritage destruction in war, including conflicts between protecting heritage and protecting people, how we ought to respond to heritage that is damaged in war, the nature of the harm caused by such damage, and the morally appropriate treatment of sites of war and conflict that have themselves become heritage sites.

The relation between art and morality is one of the vexed issues of aesthetics; it has a history at least from Plato and has been written about, or commented on, by most if not all the luminaries in aesthetics—it is not coincidence that one of the most influential papers on these debates is also one of the most cited papers of this journal. Also, the (im)pertinence of moral concerns for the assessment of artworks is arguably one of the most discussed philosophical issues in the public opinion (albeit not always informed by philosophical insights). The prompt for this Special Issue was the publication, over a short space of time, of four books in the area: James Harold’s Dangerous Art: On Moral Criticisms of Artwork (2020), Erich Hatala Matthes’s Drawing the Line: What to Do with the Work of Immoral Artists from Museums to Movies (2022), Ted Nannicelli’s Artistic Creation and Ethical Criticism (2020), and Mary Beth Willard’s Why It’s OK to Enjoy the Art of Immoral Artists (2021). In this issue, each of these authors provides a précis of their own book, a criticism of one of the other books, and then a defence of their own work against this criticism. Although each book is, obviously, very different, there are some overlapping concerns that make for an especially productive interaction. In particular, one thread that runs through is the current vexed issue of what attitude an audience should take on a work of art in the light of facts about the moral character of its creator. With the wars over ‘cancel culture’ raging in the popular discourse, it is important to subject this issue to detailed philosophical examination.

The standard discussion of the relation between aesthetics and ethics tends to avoid the fundamental question: how are those two values ranked against each other in terms of importance. This paper looks at two arguments, the ‘resource allocation argument’ and the ‘relative weight argument’. It puts forward the view that any theory of aesthetic value should characterise aesthetic value in a way that allows for the existence of these arguments. It argues that hedonism does that successfully, but the more recent approaches to aesthetic value—in particular Dominic McIver Lopes’s ‘Network Theory’ have more of a struggle.

This paper starts from the fact that the study of narrative in contemporary Anglo-American philosophy is almost exclusively the study of fictional narrative. It returns to an earlier debate in which Hayden White argued that “historiography is a form of fiction-making.” Although White’s claims are hyperbolical, the paper argues that he was correct to stress the importance of the claim that fiction and non-fiction use “the same techniques and strategies.” A distinction is drawn between properties of narratives that are simply properties of narratives and properties of narratives that play a role in forming readers’ beliefs about the world. Using this distinction, it is shown that it is an important feature of non-fictions that they are narratives; it is salutary to recognise non-fictions as being more like fictions than they are like the events they represent.

In 1797 Friedrich Schlegel wrote philosophy of art usually lacks one of two things: either the philosophy, or the art. This collection of essays contains both the philosophy and the art. It brings together an international team of leading philosophers to address diverse philosophical issues raised by recent works of art. Each essay engages with a specific artwork and explores the connection between the image and the philosophical content and how philosophy can aid interpretation of the artwork. The discussion ranges over political, ethical and religious concepts, such as apathy and irony, to standard problems in the philosophy of art, such as expression, style and depiction, as well as major movements in art history, such as Dadaism. Many of the contributors are distinguished in areas of philosophy other than aesthetics and are writing about art for the first time. All show how productive the engagement can be between philosophy, more generally, and art.

In the third issue of the J. Paul Getty Trust Occasional Papers in Cultural Heritage Policy series, authors Helen Frowe and Derek Matravers pivot from the earlier tone of the series in discussing the appropriate response to attacks on cultural heritage with their paper, “Conflict and Cultural Heritage: A Moral Analysis of the Challenges of Heritage Protection.” While Frowe and Matravers acknowledge the importance of cultural heritage, they assert that we must more carefully consider the complex moral dimensions—the inevitable serious consequences to human beings—before formulating policy to forcefully protect it. A number of writers and thinkers working on the problem of preserving the world’s most treasured monuments, sites, and objects today cite what Frowe and Matravers call extrinsic and intrinsic justifications for the protection of cultural heritage. These are arguments that maintain that protecting heritage will be a key means to achieve other important goals, like the prevention of genocide, or arguments that heritage deserves to be forcefully protected for its own sake. Frowe and Matravers deconstruct both types of justifications, demonstrating a lack of clear evidence for a causal relationship between the destruction of cultural heritage and atrocities like genocide and arguing that the defense of heritage must not be treated with the same weight or urgency, or according to the same international policies, as the defense of human lives. By calling for expanded theory and empirical data and the consideration of morality in the crafting of international policy vis-à-vis cultural heritage protection, Frowe and Matravers present a thoughtful critique that enriches this important series and adds to the ongoing dialogue in the field.

To write Narrative Justice, one would need to be expert in the philosophy of fiction, in criminology, in crime, and in military history. Hence, possibly only someone with exactly Rafe McGregor's background could have done it. Aside from the truly interdisciplinary nature of the book, several other virtues stand out. I will mention in particular the rigorous argumentation and the clarity of the writing. McGregor does not shelter behind obfuscation; everything is there in plain sight. Indeed, his occasional glosses of some of the rather more self-indulgent writing of his interlocutors are most welcome.There is much in the book that is...

As Hume remarks, the view that aesthetic evaluations are ‘subjective’ is part of common sense—one certainly meets it often enough in conversation. As philosophers, we can distinguish the one sense of the claim (‘aesthetic evaluations are mind- dependent’) from another (‘aesthetic evaluations are relative’). A plausible reading of the former claim (‘some of the grounds of some aesthetic evaluations are response- dependent’) is true. This paper concerns the latter claim. It is not unknown, or even unexpected, to find people who believe that aesthetic evaluations are culturally relative, or even agent-relative. A cultural relativist would hold that there is no way to adjudicate an apparent disagreement between, say, a Japanese critic who finds Wright of Derby clunky and unsubtle, and a British critic who finds Utamaro’s flower pictures overly pretty and sentimental.

Empathy--our capacity to cognitively or affectively connect with other people's thoughts and feelings--is a concept whose definition and meaning varies widely within philosophy and other disciplines. Philosophical Perspectives on Empathy advances research on the nature and function of empathy by exploring and challenging different theoretical approaches to this phenomenon. The first section of the book explores empathy as a historiographical method, presenting a number of rich and interesting arguments that have influenced the debate from the Nineteenth Century to the present day. The next group of essays broadly accepts the centrality of perspective-taking in empathy. Here the authors attempt to refine and improve this particular conception of empathy by clarifying the intentionality of the perspective taker's emotion, the perspective taker's meta-cognitive capacities, and the nature of central imagining itself. Finally, the concluding section argues for the re-evaluation, or even rejection, of empathy. These essays advance alternative theories that are relevant to current debates, such as narrative engagement and competence, attunement or the sharing of mental states, and the "second-person" model of empathy. This book features a wide range of perspectives on empathy written by experts across several different areas of philosophy. It will be of interest to researchers and upper-level students working on the philosophy of emotions across ethics, philosophy of mind, philosophy of psychology, and the history of philosophy.

This clear and thorough introduction provides students with the skills necessary to understand the main thinkers, texts and arguments of political philosophy and thought. Each chapter comprises a brief overview of a major political thinker, followed by an introduction to one or more of their most influential works and an introduction to key secondary readings. Key features include: * exercises * reading notes * guides for further reading The book introduces and assesses: Machiavelli's _Prince_; Hobbes' _Leviathan_; Locke's _Second Treatise on Government_; Rousseau's _Social Contract_; Marx and Engels' _German Ideology_ ; Mill's _On Liberty and The Subjection of Women_. _Reading Political Philosophy_ requires no previous knowledge of philosophy or politics and is ideal for newcomers to political philosophy and political thought.

This clear and thorough introduction provides students with the skills necessary to understand the main thinkers, texts and arguments of political philosophy and thought. Each chapter comprises a brief overview of a major political thinker, followed by an introduction to one or more of their most influential works and an introduction to key secondary readings. Key features include: * exercises * reading notes * guides for further reading The book introduces and assesses: Machiavelli's _Prince_; Hobbes' _Leviathan_; Locke's _Second Treatise on Government_; Rousseau's _Social Contract_; Marx and Engels' _German Ideology_ ; Mill's _On Liberty and The Subjection of Women_. _Reading Political Philosophy_ requires no previous knowledge of philosophy or politics and is ideal for newcomers to political philosophy and political thought.

The recent exhibition at the Hayward must surely have prompted anyone who paid £5 to see it to ask whether some of what they were being shown was worth looking at. This is not simply the 'But is it art?' question all over again, but something more specific. do we have a reason to _see_ these things, as opposed to hearing about them, reading about them or appreciating them in some other way? One would expect the answer to be 'yes'. Art, like malt whisky, is made to be experienced. That is, one can look forward to it, talk about it, collect it, buy it or sell it but ultimately what gives its existence point is that it provides a worthwhile experience for people who try it. There would be no point in making malt whisky just to put vitriol into it and there would seem to be no point in exhibiting works of art which are not worth looking at

I am going to assume, in what follows, that when we engage with a fiction we are participating in a game of make-believe; that is, that we are engaging in an imaginative effort. In this paper I shall attempt to identify the kind of game we are playing. I begin with two words of caution. First, identifying the kind of game will be a matter of finding a game whose structure best reflects the facts about our engagement with fiction. The fit, however, will not be exact. In a game of mud pies, the fact that the cardboard box holds a maximum of six globs of mud may make it true in the game that the oven holds a maximum of six pies, but the fact that the box has "Fyffes bananas" written on the side of it will probably not make it true in the game that the oven has the same. Second the variety of works of fiction makes it unwise to assume that one kind of game will cover all cases. These two provisos might be thought to vitiate my project before it begins. In the face of an objection to my first proviso, namely, that the kind of make-believe I maintain we play with fiction does not mirror the facts of our relations with fiction, I can reply that the structure is not isomorphic in that particular respect. In reply to the claim that in some particular instance we do not play the game of make-believe that I suggest we do, I can simply agree and count it as one of the many exceptions to the rule

Richard Wollheim was born in 1923 in London. His father was Eric Wollheim who was at the time the London manager for Diaghilev. His mother had been a Gaiety girl; she left the stage when she married. Wollheim was educated at Westminster School and then, after active service in the Second World War, he went to Oxford to complete degrees in history and PPE. Despite relatively little study of the subject he was recruited by A. J. Ayer for the Philosophy Department at University College London. He remained there for thirty-three years, becoming Grote Professor in 1963. In 1983 he moved to America where he taught at various universities before returning to England shortly before his death in 2003