Emily McTernan

Treating those who commit crimes or behave in ways deemed socially undesirable with medical interventions targeting the brain, or ‘neurointerventions’, comes with a history. That history is one full of appalling cases, including the chemical castration of men convicted of consensual same-sex relations, electric shocks to treat the ‘non-compliant’, and lobotomies. This chapter argues that this appalling history of using neurointerventions to respond to socially undesirable behaviour should affect our assessment of whether it is ethical to try again. In particular, proponents of such neurointerventions must defend their actions as different to those of the past in ethically salient ways, but it turns out to be very hard for them to do so.

This article defends the significance of our encounters on the grounds of their distinctive contribution to our freedom. The variety and novelty of our encounters, and the spontaneity they allow us in the shaping of our selves, creates opportunities for us to revise our conceptions of the good, to try out new narratives of our lives, and different ways of presenting ourselves. Even when we don’t take up these opportunities, still our encounters provide us with a sense of the openness and possibility of a human life. This role of encounters in a free human life challenges the overemphasis when conceptualising liberal freedom on the unimpeded pursuit of our plans or conceptions of the good: freedom is also about having a life that lies open before us. This defence also makes central not the fleeting contact between strangers on city streets and parks which has hitherto been the focus of political philosophers but, rather, our casual connections and weak ties with others, and in places beyond the city and its public spaces.

When someone is poised to fail to fulfil a moral duty, we can respond in a variety of ways. We might remind them of their duty, or seek to persuade them through argument. Or we might intervene forcibly to ensure that they act in accordance with their duty. Some duties appear to be such that the duty-bearer can be liable to forcible interference when this is necessary to ensure that they comply with them. We’ll call duties that carry such liabilities enforcement-apt. Not all duties seem to be enforcement-apt. Some, for example, accept that a person in a monogamous marriage has a moral duty to refrain from infidelity, but deny that a spouse can be compelled to comply with their duty to be faithful without transgressing her rights. More controversially, some think that our duties to assist others in severe need are not enforcement-apt. What could explain the contrast between duties that are enforcement-apt while and those that are not? We’ll call this the puzzle of enforceability and our paper considers three broad strategies for responding to it. The first strategy takes the form of identifying some substantive feature or features that are necessary and/or sufficient for a duty to possess some enforcement status. We consider a range of candidate explanations of this sort but find that none are plausible. The second strategy rejects the idea that there are genuinely enforcement-inapt duties and instead seeks to explain why there can nonetheless be marked differences amongst duties concerning how they can be enforced and who can enforce them. We find that this strategy too is largely unsuccessful. The third strategy offered seeks an explanation of differences in enforcement status by appeal to the broader social costs of enforcing certain kinds of duties. We find that this approach holds some promise but note that it requires adopting a controversial set of moral commitments. We conclude by considering our options in the absence of a solution to our puzzle.

Modern parenting is demanding. Parenting of this sort, given its demands, will tend to crowd out other aspects of our lives, including our other relationships. In this article, we raise a distinctive concern about the way in which modern intensive parenting crowds out other relationships. We argue that parenting, given current norms and family structures, is an unpromising site for our character development, and thus for our flourishing, because of the kind of power that parents exercise in the family and because of the context in which they exercise that power. Parents therefore have flourishing based reasons to pursue other relationships, notably friendship, which contributes in distinctive ways to our flourishing in the context of a relationship characterised by equality, not hierarchy. In making these arguments, the article both intervenes in the emerging literature on parental power and strengthens existing critiques of the prioritisation of romantic and familial bonds over and above other forms of relationship.

During comedians’ performances, most of the usual norms around what we should and shouldn't say are, rightly, suspended. Yet there are still some offensive jokes that ought not be told. To mark such jokes out, some comedy nights and venues have adopted an ethic of ‘don't punch down’, ruling out jokes that target the disadvantaged, vulnerable, and oppressed. This article argues that such an ethic threatens to misdirect our attention. I begin by getting clear about the distinctive sense in which some offensive jokes can punch. Rather than focusing on what discriminatory attitudes the joke reports, or conjectures about the true beliefs of the comedians who make the joke and the audiences who laugh, I draw our attention instead to what a joke does. In particular, the crucial question is whether, and how, an offensive joke contributes towards undermining anti-discriminatory norms, or towards reinforcing unjust hierarchies and damaging stereotypes. In order to track the offensive jokes that punch in this sense, I propose two revisions to the ethic of don't punch down. First, that ethic overemphasises the relative position of the comedian as compared to the joked-about party and the direct target of a joke. Instead, our focus should be on what a joke of this kind does, in the context in which it is told. Second, I argue that the joke's audience is a crucial, and often determining, factor in our ethical assessments.

This article replies to the insightful contributions to the book symposium for On Taking Offence, These range from theoretical questions about how we should conceptualise an emotion like offence and the role of empirical evidence when justifying it, to practical questions about who has the power to take offence effectively and how to dispute another's offence-taking. In this reply, I first defend offence as a distinct emotion. Second, I argue against the implicit conception of social standing that underpins some of these challenges, as static and fixed rather than dynamic, emerging from the particularities of particular social interactions, and easily threatened. Third, I address the instrumental justification of offence. I conclude with some unanswered questions, and some reasons to remain optimistic about what taking offence can do.

People sometimes use speech to interfere with other people’s speech, as in the case of a heckler sabotaging a lecture with constant interjections. Some people claim that such interference infringes upon free speech. Against this view, we argue that where competing speakers in a public forum both have an interest in speaking, free speech principles should not automatically give priority to the ‘official’ speaker. Given the ideals underlying free speech, heckling speech sometimes deserves priority. But what can we say, then, about situations in which heckling clearly seems to infringe upon people’s civil liberties, in a way that intuitively justifies intervention? In such cases, we argue, heckling infringes upon people’s associative freedom. We present and defend an ethical framework for the institutional management of ‘Speech Fights’, geared around this insight.

This book aims to rehabilitate taking offence. In an era of public criticism of those deemed too easily offended, it is easy to overlook the significance and social value of this emotion. Offence, the book argues, is better understood as a way to defend one’s standing than as a mere expression of hurt feelings. The book defends the significance of offence as one way to resist everyday social inequalities: those details of interactions that, together, pattern social hierarchies. As a result, the defence of offence is of that taken at apparently trivial and small-scale details of social interactions, and so the very form that its opponents find most objectionable. Within societies marred by hierarchies of unequal social standing, and when taken by those who face systematic attributions of lower social standing, an inclination to take offence is a civic virtue. First, this book offers an analysis of offence that depicts a distinctive emotion ripe for moral reappraisal. To take offence resists an affront to one’s social standing and is one way to negotiate the social norms and practices that structure social interactions, often in socially unequal ways. Second, the book defends the significance of our social standing, the cumulative importance of apparently small details of interactions, and offence as an act of insubordination against a social hierarchy. Third, it turns to the limits on when taking offence is justified, addressing jokes, unintentional affronts, disagreement over what counts as offensive, and what we should think of offence that is taken online.

To ban or significantly restrict visitors for patients in hospital could seem to be simply a sensible and easy precaution to take during a pandemic: a policy that is unpopular, perhaps, and even unfortunate, but not something that wrongs anyone. However, I argue that in fact such restrictions on visitors infringe upon a fundamental right, to freedom of association. While there may still be permissible restrictions on visitors, making the case for these becomes highly demanding. One common way to understand the purpose of the fundamental liberties is as protecting us from interference in a core set of freedoms, even when such interference would be to our benefit or would promote the general good. This reframing of the importance of visitors in terms of a right also has implications for how to run hospitals beyond the pandemic era: it supports a rapid expansion of visitor access and suggests that any decision to significantly restrict visitors ought not be left in the hospital, or hospital trust’s, hands.

In this article, I offer an analysis of what it is to take offense and what doing so is like, on which a more nuanced and positive appraisal of this emotion becomes possible as compared to its popular reputation. First, I survey the shortfalls of the limited discussion of offense by philosophers, before proposing an alternative analysis. Second, I distinguish offense from nearby emotions, like anger, disgust, and pride. Third, I examine the implications not only for how we conceptualize offense but also how we regard those who take it. On my account, offense tends to be a smaller-scale, more everyday emotion than those making claims about its threats to society suppose, and one ripe for a moral reassessment. While offense sometimes appears excessive, that is likely only in limited cases: namely, those requiring symbolic withdrawal or proxy forms of estrangement. Even there, the appearance of excess may be illusory, with the grander gestures of offense appropriate given the distance between the offended and offending parties. Furthermore, on my account, to take offense is to resist affronts to one's standing, rather than merely a reflection of hurt feelings. Concluding, I sketch a defense of this resistance as a sometimes valuable response to injustice.

There is something attractive about combining the values of equality and responsibility, even though the view most commonly associated with doing so, of luck egalitarianism, is beset with objections. This article hence proposes an alternative approach to being a responsibility-sensitive egalitarian: one grounded on our valuable social practices of responsibility, rather than on a desire to mitigate the influence of luck on people's prospects. First, I argue that this practice-based approach better captures the very reasons that responsibility is significant for justice than does the prevalent approach among luck egalitarians: namely, the values of fairness, choice and respect. Second, I show that the remaining motivation of the luck egalitarian approach, of being ‘anti-luck’, is impoverished. I conclude by suggesting that this practice-based approach is better motivated and more palatable than existing forms of luck egalitarianism, even for those relational egalitarians who standardly criticise making egalitarianism responsibility-sensitive.

It is widely conceded by liberals that institutions alone are insufficient to ensure that citizens behave in the ways required for a liberal state to flourish, be stable, or function at all. A popular solution proposes cultivating virtues in order to secure the desired behaviours of citizens, where institutions alone would not suffice. A range of virtues are proposed to fill a variety of purported gaps in the liberal political order. Some appeal to virtues in order to secure state stability; Rawls, for instance, claims that ‘citizens must have a sense of justice and the political virtues that support political and social institutions’ in order to ensure an ‘enduring society’. For Galston, citizens must possess a range of virtues in order for the state to function, including the virtues of courage, independence, tolerance, willingness to engage in public discourse, and law-abidingness

Many states offer generous provision of fertility treatment, but this article asks whether and how such state funding can be justified. I argue that, at most, there is limited justification for state funding of fertility treatment as one good among many that could enable citizens to pursue valuable life projects, but not one that should have the privileged access to funding it is currently given. I then consider and reject reasons one might think that fertility treatment has a special claim to funding, over the other goods that might enable life projects. First, I deny that fertility treatment has a special claim to funding on the grounds that infertility is a disease or disability. Second, I argue that individuals do not have a right to assistance with the project of having a child of their own. Third, I deny that providing fertility treatment is a special case on the grounds that having children is good for society. However, there may be one exception: states have a reason to fund fertility treatment for same sex couples that does not apply to heterosexual couples

Uterus transplants provide another treatment for infertility. Some might think that we should embrace such transplants as one more way to assist people to have children. However, in this paper I argue that uterus transplants are not something that we ought to fund, nor something that we should make easy to access. First, I argue that any justification of providing uterus transplants must be based on the value of the experience of gestation, rather than on claims of meeting medical need or promoting normal functioning. Second, I demonstrate that such a justification has limited prospects of success. The value of experiencing gestation is unlikely to be sufficient to justify state funding of uterus transplants and, further, we have reason to refrain from enabling such transplants.

Political philosophy offers a range of utopian proposals, from open borders to global egalitarianism. Some object that these proposals ought to be constrained by what is feasible, while others insist that what justice demands does not depend on what we can bring about. Currently, this debate is mired in disputes over the fundamental nature of justice and the ultimate purpose of political philosophy. I take a different approach, proposing that we should consider which facts could fill out a feasibility requirement. This search for the facts requires requires looking to the social sciences, but I argue that it turns out that the social sciences will not provide us with findings that rule out, nor even count against, the kinds of proposals that political philosophers actually make, whether ideal or non-ideal. At the least, to deny this requires adopting deeply controversial commitments within the philosophy of social science. Thus, I conclude that a feasibility requirement has little practical use for political philosophers. Disputes over that requirement ought to be replaced by other, more fruitful ways for political philosophers to address both the findings of social science and the debates over non-ideal theory or political realism.

In Cohen’s vision of the just society, there would be no need for unequalizing incentives so as to benefit the least well-off; instead, people would be motivated by an egalitarian ethos to work hard and in the most socially productive jobs. As such, Cohen appears to offer a way to mitigate the trade-off of equality for efficiency that often characterizes theorizing about distributive justice. This article presents an egalitarian challenge to Cohen’s vision of the just society. I argue that a society where all internalized the egalitarian ethos would be one lacking equal respect among its members, in which certain groups lacked the grounds of self-respect. Section 1 defends equal respect and a form of equality of self-respect as values with broad-based appeal to egalitarians, and argues that a particular form of hierarchy would undermine both equal respect and the grounds of self-respect. Sections 2 and 3 reveal that just such a hierarchy would emerge in a society in which all had internalized the egalitarian ethos, in the case of both carers and the untalented. Thus, Cohen’s proposed society is shown to fail to unite equality and efficiency. Instead, Cohen’s society would be characterized by a lack of equality