Patrick Quinn White

Normative powers are often assumed or defined to be abilities to change requirements by one's say so. Promise and command generate duties (and so requirement), consent waives them. I argue that alongside such deontic powers, we enjoy a suite of non-deontic powers: abilities to shape non-requiring interpersonal norms by our say so. I call consent's non-deontic analogue “allowance.” Suppose that we are meeting and we explicitly agreed to talk for an hour; but I see that the day is really getting away from you; it would be helpful to you to end early. That situation can be such that carrying on the meeting is permissible but still interpersonally defective—it's rude, imposing, graceless, etc. You can change that by your say so; you could, for instance, tell me “don't worry about it! we have the full hour.” Your say so is not deontic consent as it did not change what was permissible; but it did make a normative difference, rendering my carrying on no longer graceless or rude. I defend a set of four atomic non-deontic powers that I call “allowance,” “assurance” (like promise), “pressure” (like command), and “withdrawal” (like revocation). I also defend the existence of more complex molecular powers, most importantly the power exercised in telling another “I love you.” In addition to an argument from cases, I make a bigger picture, theoretical argument: we can shape non-deontic norms by (re)shaping our relationships with others; if we can shape non-deontic norms indirectly in that way, then we can do so directly by our say so. The upshot is a theory of ubiquitous, understudied normative phenomena and a picture on which the deontic and non-deontic dimensions of interpersonal life are continuous.

I have had extraordinary teachers who gave me far more than I was owed. Those gifts put a distinctive normative pressure upon me; I cannot ever repay the the gifts that were given me, but I can, and should, pay them forward. Not to do so would be a normative failing. Thinkers as varied as Jesus, Benjamin Franklin, Emerson, and Paul Erdős ​(of Erdős number fame) all seem to agree that we face some kind of injunction to pay it forward. This paper asks why: why would receipt of an undeserved benefit from one party generate any normative pressure to do likewise for a third party? I show that attempts to explain the phenomenon of paying it forward via an appeal to beneficence, gratitude, or fairness all fail, and so we must look elsewhere. In bipolar relationships, like friendships, we are subject to norm of balance or harmony; when the other relates to me an especially generous way, I should in turn live up to that example and so relate back. Balance in bipolar relationships is a diachronic norm—healthy relationships sustain and thrive on local imbalances—but a relationship which remains one-sided is thereby flawed. I argue that so, too, are we subject to a norm of balance across generations. When we cannot or should not pay a gift back and achieve balance within a bipolar relationship, we can instead pay that gift forward and achieve balance across a larger time horizon. For me not to go above and beyond for my students would leave that broader multi-generational relationship—stretching from my teacher to me to my students—imbalanced with me at its normative focal point. In this paper I articulate and defend an intergenerational balance norm, showing that paying it forward arises within multi-generational relationships like that connecting me, my teachers, and my students—even though it does not always seem like that on the surface. Having defended an account of inter-generational balance, I ask to whom one can pay it forward, arguing that one can successfully achieve inter-generational balance with recipients quite different from one's initial giver(s). The upshot: among the tasks of responding to deep asymmetries and dependencies in our lives is the maintenance and forging of multi-generational relationships within which we can achieve an ideal of balance.​

How should we respond to the humanity of others? Should we care for others’ well-being? Respect them as autonomous agents? Largely neglected is an answer we can find in the religious traditions of Judaism, Christianity and Buddhism: we should love all. This paper argues that an ideal of love for all can be understood apart from its more typical religious contexts and moreover provides a unified and illuminating account of the the nature and grounds of morality. I defend a novel account of love for all that avoids serious worries about the incoherence or impossibility of loving everyone. Doing so requires countenancing a neglected form of love. Love admits as its object not just individual entities like people and groups; we can also bear a love for the Fs in general---for all the Joneses, all the philosophers, or even all the human beings. I go on to argue that while it is possible for ordinary agents like us to love all, we shouldn't. Instead, we should approximate love for all. The minimal approximation of love for all is, surprisingly, respect; I derive the basic, structural features of deontological ethics (including anti-paternalism and anti-aggregation) from the ideal of loving all. (NB: This paper used to be titled "Ethics in the Shadow of Love" and has been cited as an unpublished manuscript under that title.)

Do the ethical features of an artwork bear on its aesthetic value? This movie endorses misogyny, that song is a civil rights anthem, the clay constituting this statue was extracted with underpaid labor—are facts like these the proper bases for aesthetic evaluation? I argue that this debate has suffered from a false presupposition: that if the answer is “yes” (for at least some such ethical features), such considerations feature as pro tanto contributions to an artwork’s overall aesthetic value, i.e., as merits or flaws which make something have more or less overall aesthetic value. As the case of ethically laden aesthetic evaluation makes clear, however, good aesthetic judgement is irreducibly multi-dimensional, e.g., “the movie has an engaging soundtrack, tasteful camera work, and takes a misogynistically purient perspective on its female lead.” Such a “non-summative” judgement refuses to reduce those various dimensions of aesthetic value to a single aggregate aesthetic evaluation, like “it’s a 6/10” or “it’s a pretty good movie!” I defend both the modest claim that such non-summative evaluations are not mistaken and the extremist claim that summative (i.e., unidimensional) aesthetic evaluation is defective by considering other domains of normative assessment in which summing seems inappropriate, notably including evaluations of people’s character.

Do the ethical features of an artwork bear on its aesthetic value? This movie endorses misogyny, that song is a civil rights anthem, the clay constituting this statue was extracted with underpaid labor—are facts like these the proper bases for aesthetic evaluation? I argue that this debate has suffered from a false presupposition: that if the answer is yes (for at least some such ethical features), such considerations feature as pro tanto contributions to an artwork's overall aesthetic value, i.e., as merits or flaws which make something have more or less overall aesthetic value. As the case of ethically laden, aesthetic evaluation makes clear, however, good aesthetic judgement is irreducibly multi-dimensional, e.g., "the movie has an engaging soundtrack, tasteful camera work, and takes a misogynistically prurient perspective on its female lead.'' Such a "non-summative" judgement refuses to reduce those various dimensions of aesthetic value to a single aggregate aesthetic evaluation, like "it's a 6/10" or "it's a pretty good movie!" I defend both the modest claim that such non-summative evaluations are not mistaken and the extremist claim that summative (i.e., unidimensional) aesthetic evaluation is defective by considering other domains of normative assessment in which summing seems inappropriate, notably including evaluations of people's character.