Emad H. Atiq

ABSTRACT Many philosophers have found it plausible that sense experience affords a species of nonpropositional awareness and knowledge, what Russell termed “knowledge by acquaintance.” At the same time, a prominent strand in epistemology maintains that knowledge has a distinctive normative profile: it is embedded in justificatory relations, serves as a standard of success for underlying attitudes, grounds regulative norms, and qualifies as a cognitive achievement. Yet it remains unclear how a nonpropositional state of acquaintance, formed without evidential basis and beyond rational control, could fit within this normative structure. I trace the connections between different formulations of what I call “the normativity objection” to Russell's view and offer a unified response. The objection, I argue, rests on an overly passive conception of acquaintance. Once acquaintance is seen as partly constituted by attention—a subject‐level, reasons‐responsive activity—it can satisfy knowledge's normative role by serving as the success condition of a norm‐governed performance. This not only strengthens the Russellian program but also reveals a striking convergence between the structure of consciousness and the structure of epistemic normativity.

Some kinds can succeed or fail on their own terms. A clock that loses minutes is defective as a clock; a university that abandons teaching and research becomes deficient as a university. Pebbles and numbers, by contrast, are not evaluable in this way. Philosophers often place law in the first category, and some go further still: they claim that unjust law is defective as law. Yet the leading arguments for this claim—appeals to central cases (Finnis 2011), law’s characteristic activities (Murphy 2006), the logic of legal demands (Alexy 2021), or law’s justificatory role (Dworkin 1986)—fail when tested against canonical cases of kind-relative virtue. Their failure reveals a deeper lacuna in legal philosophy: the absence of a general theory of goodness-fixing kinds. I argue that if justice is law’s constitutive virtue, it must be explained using the same functional schemas that ground constitutive standards elsewhere: agentive functions stably intended across contexts; etiological functions that explain emergence and persistence; and systemic functions that locate law’s role within larger social orders. On this reconstruction, whether unjust law is defective “as law” is not a matter of conceptual stipulation or a priori intuition, but an empirical question—one that unsettles familiar readings of Dworkin and Hart, and standard narratives of legal history.

This Element defends and clarifies the thesis that the legality of a system of rules depends on its moral features. Positivists who deny this dependence struggle to explain: (1) the traditional classification of moral norms as a form of a priori law; (2) judicial reliance on moral norms in legal discovery; (3) persistent theoretical disagreement about intra-systemic, law-determining facts; (4) why radically arbitrary or immoral schemes of social organization represent borderline cases of law; and (5) why law, like other artifacts, can be evaluated in a kind-relative sense (“as law”). Meanwhile, traditional versions of non-positivism overstate the dependence going further than the desiderata warrant. A moderate theory is formulated: law is an artifact whose existence depends on adequately performing an essentially normative function. The theory's justification lies in its explanatory power: a comparison with other “value-driven” artifacts, such as artworks, proves vital for understanding legal language, reasoning, and practice.

Russell (1911/12) argued that perceptual experience grounds a species of non-propositional knowledge, “knowledge by acquaintance,” and in recent years, this account of knowledge has been gaining traction. I defend on its basis a connection between moral and epistemic failure. I argue, first, that insufficient concern for the suffering of others can be explained in terms of an agent’s lack of acquaintance knowledge of another’s suffering, and second, that empathy improves our epistemic situation. Empathic distress approximates acquaintance with another’s suffering, and empathic agents who are motivated to help rather than disengage exhibit an important epistemic virtue: a variety of intellectual courage. A key upshot is that an independently motivated account of the structure and significance of perceptual experience is shown to provide theoretical scaffolding for understanding a famously elusive idea in ethics—namely, that the failure to help others stems from a kind of ignorance of their situation.

Laws can be evaluated as better or worse relative to different normative standards. But the standard set by the Rule of Law defines a kind-relative standard of evaluation: features like generality, publicity, and non-retroactivity make the law better as law. This fact about legal evaluation invites a comparison between law and other “goodness-fixing kinds,” where a kind is goodness-fixing if what it is to be a member of the kind fixes a standard for evaluating instances as better or worse. Indeed, for any goodness-fixing kind, K, that sets a standard, S, for evaluating Ks as Ks, we can ask: (1) How does the nature of Ks explain S? (2) Does being a K depend on meeting a minimum threshold of S-relative goodness? In the case of law and its kind-relative standard defined by the Rule-of-Law virtues, these questions lack settled answers. Although Raz (1979, 2019) offers some discussion, I argue that his answers have the surprising upshot of rendering law sui generis relative to other goodness-fixing kinds, and that preserving continuity with other such kinds involves revising the general picture. On the revised picture, law construed as a system of rules is subject to kind-relative evaluation because it is (a) a functional artifact, (b) with an essential function of realizing a limited normative ideal, and (c) its being minimally good at that function—that is, its realization of the relevant normative ideal to some degree—is a condition and ground of law’s existence, since all functional artifacts appear to be subject to such threshold conditions.

Sentencing outcomes turn on moral and evaluative determinations. For example, a finding of “irreparable corruption” is generally a precondition for juvenile life without parole. A finding that the “aggravating factors outweigh the mitigating factors” determines whether a defendant receives the death penalty. Should such moral determinations that expose defendants to extraordinary penalties be subject to a standard of proof? A broad range of federal and state courts have purported to decide this issue “in the abstract and without reference to our sentencing case law,” as the Supreme Court recently put it. Kansas v. Carr, 577 U.S. 108, 119 (2016). According to these courts, “it would mean nothing” to ask whether the defendant “deserves mercy beyond a reasonable doubt” or “more-likely-than-not deserves it” because moral questions are not “factual.” Instead, moral determinations are highly subjective “value calls” to which concepts of doubt and certainty do not intelligibly apply. Implicit in these rulings is a controversial view of the nature of moral judgment. This Article traces the contours of the view and argues that it is out of step with the way the broader public thinks about morality and fails to address the issues defendants have raised. Courts should avoid wading into such controversial waters for two reasons. First, the judiciary has historically maintained neutrality on issues of significant public concern. Second, even if moral determinations are not factual, applying a standard of proof to at least some moral decisions at sentencing would change the outcome of the sentencer’s deliberations, and improve the legitimacy of the legal system. For the reasonableness of doubt depends on context; and moral questions—"are you certain the defendant deserves death?”—make salient the stakes relative to which a person should decide what to believe about ordinary empirical matters. On the resulting view, reasonable doubt in the final moral analysis is not just intelligible, but essential for correcting a bias in the structure of the bifurcated criminal trial that systematically disadvantages defendants: the tendency for de-contextualized "factual findings” in the guilt phase to control outcomes at sentencing.

The kind of empathy that is communicated through expressions like “I feel your pain” or “I share your sadness” is important, but peculiar. For it seems to require something perplexing and elusive: sharing another’s experience. It’s not clear how this is possible. We each experience the world from our own point of view, which no one else occupies. It’s also unclear exactly why it is so important that we share others' pains. If you are in pain, then why should it matter, and be a good thing, that I am also in the same pain? Our goal in this paper is to address these questions. Specifically, our goal is to clarify how empathy, in the regimented sense of sharing another’s pain, is possible and why it is important. Central to our account is the concept of being acquainted with—that is, directly aware of—pain. When I feel my own pain, and am acquainted with it, I want the pain to stop, and I’m moved—sometimes compelled—to stop it. My acquaintance with the pain is what reveals that it is no good, to be gotten rid of, and to be avoided in the future. Acquaintance also appears to be implicated in our understanding of, and motivation to relieve, others’ pains. When I say “I feel your pain” I express an awareness of your pain, a direct appreciation of its noxious qualities, and, as with my own pain, an understanding of why it ought to be eased. Explaining how empathy is both possible and important therefore involves clarifying the nature of acquaintance: its limits, epistemic role, and motivational significance. What our analysis reveals is that agents have both epistemic and moral reasons to share other people’s pain because pain-sharing is the source of a species of character-building knowledge that we have no other way of accessing except through direct acquaintance with pain.

Taking perceptual experience to consist in a relation of acquaintance with the sensible qualities, I argue that the state of being acquainted with a sensible quality is intrinsically a form of knowledge, and not merely a means to more familiar kinds of knowledge, such as propositional or dispositional knowledge. We should accept the epistemic claim for its explanatory power and theoretical usefulness. That acquaintance is knowledge best explains the intuitive epistemic appeal of ‘Edenic’ counterfactuals involving unmediated perceptual contact with reality (cf. Chalmers, in: Gendler, Hawthorne (eds) Perceptual experience, Oxford University Press, 2006). It explains the elusiveness of knowledge gained through new acquaintances. It coheres with the knowledge-like functional role of acquaintance in the special context of evaluative beliefs and evaluative reasoning, where the objects of acquaintance serve as evidence and inferential basis. And, finally, taking acquaintance to be knowledge is theoretically fruitful: it helps vindicate claims about the relationship between knowledge and concern for others we already find intuitive or outright accept. After developing a novel case for the epistemic claim, I respond to two familiar objections against it: namely, (1) that there are no pre-propositional, pre-conceptual cases of perceptual experience that remain epistemically relevant (Sellars in Empiricism and the philosophy of mind, Routledge, 1968, McDowell, in: Lindgard (ed) John McDowell: Experience, norm, and nature, Blackwell, 2008); and (2) that the category of knowledge appears gerrymandered once we add ‘object’ knowledge to the epistemological mix (Farkas, in: Knowles, Raleigh (eds), Acquaintance: new essays, Oxford University Press, 2019).

The law of contracts, at least in its orthodox expression, concerns voluntary, or chosen, legal obligations. When Brody accepts Susan’s offer to sell him a canoe for a set price, the parties’ choices alter their legal rights and duties. Their success at changing the legal landscape depends on a background system of rules that specify when and how contractual acts have legal effects, rules that give the offer and acceptance of a bargain-exchange a central role in generating obligations. Contract law conceived as a body of rules empowering individuals to shape their own rights and responsibilities presents an object of philosophical study. The philosophy of contract includes two broad sets of projects. One set, the focus of the first part of this entry, targets the basic structure and normative justification of the law of contracts. The aim is to subsume a salient body of contract law rules under general principles in order to clarify contract law’s conceptual categories, distinguish it from other areas of law, and specify criteria relevant to its normative appraisal. This kind of philosophical work presupposes detailed knowledge of the law in existing legal regimes, and the entry begins by outlining the common law of contracts. A second set of projects draws on resources from the philosophy of language, philosophy of action, and moral and political philosophy to address debates within contract law. Questions about the nature of meaning and interpretation, intentionality, freedom in contract, and distributive justice drive contemporary legal debates concerning contract formation, interpretation, and enforcement. Philosophical work on these topics has attracted significant commentary which serves as the focus of the second part of this entry.

Legal positivists maintain that the legality of a rule is fundamentally determined by social facts. Yet for much of legal history, ordinary officials used legal terminology in ways that seem inconsistent with positivism. Judges regularly cited, analyzed, and predicated their decisions on the ‘laws of justice’ which they claimed had universal legal import. This practice, though well-documented by historians, has received surprisingly little philosophical attention; I argue that it invites explanation from positivists. After taxonomizing the positivist’s explanatory options, I suggest that the most viable option appeals to conceptual change: classical Romans, early modern Europeans, founding-era Americans were not using ‘law’ (or ‘lex’ or ‘jus’) to refer to the subject matter of contemporary legal philosophy. But the strategy is costly. It renders positivism’s truth surprisingly parochial. And it supplies new reasons for doubting positivist accounts of contemporary practices, including the treatment of moral principles in modern adjudication.

Legal anti-positivism is widely believed to be a general theory of law that generates far too many false negatives. If anti-positivism is true, certain rules bearing all the hallmarks of legality are not in fact legal. This impression, fostered by both positivists and anti-positivists, stems from an overly narrow conception of the kinds of moral facts that ground legal facts: roughly, facts about what is morally optimific—morally best or morally justified or morally obligatory given our social practices. A less restrictive view of the kinds of moral properties that ground legality results in a form of anti-positivism that can accommodate any legal rule consistent with positivism, including the alleged counter-examples. This form of “inclusive” anti-positivism is not just invulnerable to extensional challenges from the positivist. It is the only account that withstands extensional objections, while incorporating, on purely conceptual grounds, a large part of the content of morality into law.

Expressivists traditionally explain normative supervenience by saying it is a conceptual truth. I argue against this tradition in two steps. First, I show the modal claim that stands in need of explanation has been stated imprecisely. Classic arguments in metaethics for normative supervenience and those that rely on it as a premise presuppose a constraint on the supervenience base that is rarely (if ever) made explicit: the repeatability of the non-normative properties on which the normative supervenes. Non-normative properties are repeatable when it is possible for numerically distinct individuals to share them. Second, I show if the modal truth that stands in need of explanation entails that there are individuals exactly alike in repeatable non-normative respects that cannot normatively differ, then standard expressivist accounts of normative supervenience as a conceptual truth are unsuccessful. Expressivist metasemantics for normative terms, together with constitutive facts about the non-cognitive attitudes essentially involved in normative thought, strongly suggest that repeatable supervenience could not be a conceptual truth. I argue, finally, that although repeatable supervenience bears the marks of a conceptual truth, expressivists should be content to treat it as an ordinary normative truth, and to explain it the same way they explain other normative truths.

Judges decide cases by appeal to rules of general application they deem to be law. If a candidate rule resolves the case and is, ex ante and independently of the judge’s judgment, the law, then the judge has a legal obligation to declare it as such and follow it. That, at any rate, is conventional wisdom. Yet the principle is false – a rule’s being law or the judge’s believing it to be law is neither necessary nor even sufficient for a judge being legally obliged to follow it. The principle’s falsity is especially apparent in so-called hard cases, where the line between legal and non-legal rules is obscure. Moreover, judges have authority to disregard law in hard cases not because moral obligations trump legal obligations. Rather, the law itself circumscribes its own authority. The implications for legal philosophy are significant; for one, a theory of juridical norms can be developed independently of the precise boundaries of legality.

According to Fine (among others), a nonbasic factual proposition must be grounded in facts involving those of its constituents that are both real and fundamental. But the principle is vulnerable to several dialectically significant counterexamples. It entails, for example, that a logical Platonist cannot accept that true disjunctions are grounded in the truth of their disjuncts; that a Platonist about mathematical objects cannot accept that sets are grounded in their members; and that a color primitivist cannot accept that an object’s being scarlet grounds its not being chartreuse. The Finean might try to defend these implications, but it generates further problems. Instead, the principle should be rejected. An important upshot is that the principle cannot be relied on, as it has been, to distinguish robust realists from anti-realists about a propositional domain—the principle obscures ways of taking features to be both real and fundamental.

The metaethical subjectivist claims that there is nothing more to a moral disagreement than a conflict in the desires of the parties involved. Recently, David Enoch has argued that metaethical subjectivism has unacceptable ethical implications. If the subjectivist is right about moral disagreement, then it follows, according to Enoch, that we cannot stand our ground in moral disagreements without violating the demands of impartiality. For being impartial, we’re told, involves being willing to compromise in conflicts that are merely due to competing desires—the parties to such conflicts should decide what to do on the basis of a coin flip. I suggest that Enoch is mistaken in his conception of what it means to be impartial. Once impartiality is properly construed, standing one’s ground in desire-based conflicts, whether or not moral values are at stake in the conflict, is consistent with being impartial. I defend a view on which impartiality can be understood in terms of features of our desiring attitudes. An agent acts impartially in desire-based conflicts whenever she is motivated by a final desire that aims at promoting the wellbeing of persons in a way that is insensitive to the identities of persons and their morally arbitrary features like their gender or skin color. Based on the account, I explain where Enoch’s discussion of the argument goes wrong, as well as why responses to the argument from Enoch’s critics have so far missed the mark.