Luke Russell

This paper addresses the question of whether the concept of evil is philosophically adequate. It sets out a secular conception of evil that is sufficiently clear to be used in philosophical theorising. Evil, so conceived, is not merely a fiction or an illusion, but is a moral property possessed by some actions and some persons in the real world. While several philosophers have claimed that it is inescapably dangerous to use the concept of evil, the reality is that the concept of evil, when used carefully, is not prohibitively dangerous. Evil actions are not merely the opposite of good actions. Rather evil actions are are a small subset of extreme moral wrongs.

ABSTRACT In ‘Forgiveness: An Ordered Pluralism’, Miranda Fricker aims to show that two seemingly incompatible conceptions of forgiveness are unified insofar as they ascribe the same moral function to forgiveness. Both Moral Justice Forgiveness and Gifted Forgiveness, she maintains, remove redundant blame feeling. In reply, I contend that Fricker’s two targets do not actually share the same function. Gifted Forgiveness of unrepentant wrongdoers often removes blame feeling that is anything but redundant. Fricker’s argument depends on the mistaken assumption that resentment and blame have a single function. Once we see that they are polyfunctional, the question of when resentment and blame are redundant becomes far more complicated. If we want to figure out when and why we ought to forgive, we must carefully distinguish moral ideals concerning forgiveness from definitional questions about the nature of forgiveness. Once we do so, Fricker’s neatly ordered pluralism dissolves into a messier set of options.

We are often encouraged to forgive those who have wronged us. Before we can decide whether this is what we ought to do, we had better figure out what forgiveness amounts to. This article surveys recent philosophical disagreements over the nature of forgiveness. Is it only victims who can forgive the wrongs that were done to them, or can third parties also forgive? Is it possible to forgive yourself? When you forgive, what is that you are forgiving? Do you forgive morally wrong actions, or do you forgive wrongdoers? Can you forgive things that were not actually morally wrong? How do you forgive? Do you forgive by having a change of heart towards the perpetrator, by losing your anger and resentment? Or do you forgive by changing the way you treat the wrongdoer, by withholding punishment, or by achieving reconciliation? Or do you forgive by declaring “I forgive you” to the wrongdoer?

In Uneasy Virtue, Julia Driver advocates a consequentialist account of the virtues. In so far as her view is , Driver's account is superior to the psychologically rich theories of virtue offered by Aristotle, Hume and Kant. However, Driver is also committed to about virtue: a trait is a virtue only if it has instrumental value. In contrast, I argue for a form of minimalism, according to which a character trait counts as a virtue if it has either instrumental or intrinsic value. The common intuitions about virtue that Driver takes to support her actually fit better with disjunctive minimalism. Admittedly, disjunctive minimalism is a messy account of virtue. However, this messiness would be a problem only if we drew a tight connection between virtue and right action, and we have good independent reasons for thinking there is no such tight link

ABSTRACT: McDowell argues that the shortcomings of recent theories of experience are the product of the modern scientistic conception of nature. Reconceive nature, he suggests, and we can explain how perceptual experience can be an external constraint on thought that, moreover, has conceptual import. In this article I argue that McDowell’s project is unsuccessful. Those wishing to construct normative theories, including theories of perceptual experience, face the normative trilemma—they must choose one of three styles of theory, each of which exhibits a distinctive weakness. If we view McDowell’s approach in light of this choice, we see that he cannot adequately explain the link between experience and the world itself. I conclude that the real problem with theories of experience flows not from scientistic naturalism, but rather from the inconsistent demands we place on normative theories in general.RÉSUMÉ: McDowell soutient que les défauts des théories récentes sur l’expérience sont engendrés par la position scientifique moderne sur la nature. En reconcevant la nature, suggère-t-il, on est en mesure d’expliquer comment l’expérience sensorielle peut être une contrainte extérieure sur la pensée, contrainte qui joue, de plus, un rôle conceptuel. Je soutiens dans cet article que le projet de McDowell se solde par un échec. Ceux qui souhaitent élaborer des théories normatives, y compris des théories sur l’expérience sensorielle, font face au trilemme normatif — ils doivent choisir un type de théorie parmi trois types qui trahissent tous une faiblesse particulière. Si l’on envisage la démarche de McDowell dans la perspective de ce choix, on s’aperçoit qu’il ne peut expliquer de manière satisfaisante le lien entre l’expérience et le monde lui-même. J’en conclus que le véritable problème des théories sur l’expérience ne découle pas du naturalisme scientifique, mais plutôt des exigences incohérentes auxquelleson soumet les théories normatives en général.

In his book The Myth of Evil , Phillip Cole claims that the concept of evil divides normal people from inhuman, demonic and monstrous wrongdoers. Such monsters are found in fiction, Cole maintains, but not in reality. Thus, even if the concept of evil has the requisite form to be explanatorily useful, it will be of no explanatory use in the real world. My aims in this paper are to assess Cole’s arguments for the claim that there are no actual evil persons, and, in so doing, to develop a clearer framework in which to think about evil personhood. While Cole is right to claim that there are no actual evil monsters or supernatural demons, he underestimates the extent to which ascriptions of demonic monstrosity are figurative rather than literal. Hence, a lack of actual monsters does not imply a lack of actual evil persons. More plausibly, Cole suggests that the concept of evil implies an unrealistically dualistic worldview, with purely evil people on one side and ordinary people on the other. Since no one is purely bad, Cole claims, the concept of evil fails to refer to actual persons. Cole is wrong to think that the use of extreme moral concepts is incompatible with fine-grained moral evaluations across a broad spectrum between the extremes. Nor is Cole sufficiently careful in unpacking the various ways in which a person might be considered purely bad. I will argue that some actual persons are extremely bad, that it is very likely that some actual persons are fixedly bad, and that quite possibly no actual persons are thoroughly bad or innately bad. It is plausible that a person is evil only if he is extremely and fixedly bad, but Cole is wrong to suppose that a person is evil only if he is thoroughly and innately bad. Thus, even if we accept Cole’s claim that no actual person is thoroughly or innately bad, it still seems very likely that some actual persons are evil, and hence that evil can be an explanatorily useful concept.