Yotam Benziman

The phenomenon is common. We were reckless, or careless, or perhaps lost our temper. We have wronged somebody. Yet we ask, and are given, a second chance. In this paper I analyze this notion, which has not been discussed as such in ethical theory. Forgiveness, a related concept, has been analyzed thoroughly. However, prevalent analyses of forgiveness present it as entailing some playing down the wrongdoing that has caused the damage to begin with. It has to do with diminishing our resentment, with separating the person from the act, and the past wrong from choices to be made in the future. I show why the notion of asking for a second chance is better suited to deal with wrongdoing. It entails the opposite of downplaying the wrong. The wrongdoer wishes to interpret the wrong, to build on it, to learn a lesson, to shape the second chance so as not to repeat the mistakes of the first. It is the guilty as such whom we give a second chance, thus avoiding what is known as the paradox of forgiveness. A second chance, as opposed to forgiveness, can also be granted by third parties, rather than by the offended themselves.

Should siblings be morally obligated to each other in a special way? Surprisingly enough, this question has hardly been discussed by philosophers. There has been some writing on fraternity as a civic virtue, but not on fraternity in its original sense: of our proper relationship towards our actual brothers and sisters, who usually grow up with us in the same household. In this article I make a start at filling this lacuna. I claim that siblinghood is not only a sub-category of familial relationships. Our siblings are the people with whom we develop. We shape our identities vis-à-vis theirs. With them and through them we form our character traits. This is why we have special obligations towards them qua siblings. I claim that siblings serve as a ‘second memory’ to us, and on certain occasions, even a first memory. Using some of the philosophical theories that have dealt with friendship, I explain how a sibling, even more than a friend, might be connected to the idea of an Aristotelian ‘second self’.

The connection between integrity and the notion of self seems obvious. A person of integrity is one whose various beliefs, views, experiences, are united into one totality. But if integrity is about the self, then it is for the self to decide what her personality revolves around. This might suggest that being a person of integrity means acting for no reason at all – just because this is “who I am”. I might consider my whimsical, or even corrupt ways of conduct, as manifestations of integrity, and I would not have to offer reasons to anybody. In trying to reply to such an objection, it has been suggested that integrity as an epistemic virtue, aiming at truth and correctness. I show why these attempts are mistaken. And yet, it is true that as persons of integrity we act for sound reasons. Our integrity is connected to our self image. Rather than aiming at truth, our actions manifest the people we aspire to be, the values we admire, the notions we care about. By choosing my commitments I manifest a certain image of what a worthy person should aim at, and I invite others to share this image.

The item was in the news. A public official said that he would hire a male rather than a female driver, because following the growing influence of the #MeToo movement, hiring a man would be safer. That way nobody would accuse him of harassment. The official’s declaration aroused justified public criticism. Being a public official, he must be committed to equality-in-hiring practices. But suppose that it were a private individual, who wanted to do his utmost to keep away from temptation. It might seem that there is nothing wrong with that: he is free to hire whomever he wishes, and his caution is justified: planning ahead and resisting temptation are marks of rationality and personhood, in Harry Frankfurt’s sense of the term. But why should one be so cautious to begin with? Challenging other philosophical analyses of temptation, I argue that temptations are hardly irresistible. We should all take responsibility for our actions and behavior. It is a moral duty to control ourselves and not let others pay the price for our shortcomings. This notion is both Kantian, as it emphasizes autonomy, and Aristotelian: it urges us to work on our virtues.

Suppose that somebody is asking me kindly to do her a favor. She has no right to it. It is my choice whether or not to respond positively. Hence, she asks me for the favor rather than demand it. On the other hand, it seems that my refusal to do her the favor would be rude, inconsiderate, unkind, and morally wrong. This is why we tend to respond positively to favor asking and feel that we have to apologize if we refuse. In this article, I address this puzzle. I claim that refusing to do a favor is morally wrong precisely because a favor has been asked. The requestee needs me, and her very need calls upon me to reveal my goodness. In a sense, this is the strength of her weakness. I claim that acceding to do a favor is a special kind of imperfect obligation in Kant's and Mill's terminologies. As opposed to their descriptions, this obligation is directed toward a definite person at a prescribed time. It turns out that small favors are of the greatest importance for human activity. We all have our needs. We are social animals, and we are depended on others to fulfill our needs. Agreeing to do a favor is one of the building blocks of our shared social endeavor.

When should we interfere in the course of a stranger’s life? While philosophers have discussed at length extreme cases of assisting poor people in famine stricken countries, much less attention has been given to casual, everyday episodes. If I overhear two people discussing a place they are about to visit, and know that it is closed for renovation, should I interfere and tell them so? If I stand next to a customer who has not been given enough change in the supermarket, should I point that out or mind my own business? Using the Kantian notions of love and respect, I answer such questions. I claim that Kant’s terminology is ill-suited for instructing us how to deal with others with whom we are personally involved, but is important for our encounters with strangers. I suggest that we take seriously Kant’s claim that we are “united in one dwelling place”. When around others, keep an open eye to the possibility that they might need help. If there is good reason to suppose that you may help, knock on their door. Let them decide whether they want to open it. They are totally entitled to decline the offer, but should keep in mind that it was given as part of the joint venture of living together with others. The interference should therefore not be regarded as an infringement of privacy.

Suppose that Linda, Brian’s partner, is on a business trip. Brian cannot wait for her to come home. It would be plausible to construe his attitude as impatience, and claim that it is called for in this type of situation. But if this is indeed the case, then patience is uncalled for. However, it seems that patience cannot be uncalled for, as it is considered a virtue. So goes the common expression, and so attest all of the philosophical analyses of patience in recent decades. Discussing them, I claim that patience is not always the right attitude. Enthusiasm and excitement, which might be impatient, have their own merits. Furthermore, as patience involves not only waiting, but also enduring or persevering, it might also be the case that one endures too much and thus allows vice to flourish. Being truly virtuous has to do with knowing when and how to be patient, but also when and how to be impatient.

I address the puzzle of the supposed wrongness of “a thumping liar” On the one hand, it seems that the more you lie, the more wrong you commit. On the other hand, the more you lie, the more people are aware that you are not telling the truth, the less can you deceive them, the less can you wrong them. The liar who is known as such seems to cause no harm. I show how according to some analyses such a person would not even be considered to be lying, which is surely mistaken. I claim that he is both lying and bullshitting, thus challenging Frankfurt’s distinction between the two terms. The thumping liar excludes himself from being a meaningful part in the joint venture of conversation. It is himself that he mainly harms.

In this paper I discuss the notion of old times’ sake, one which is hardly discussed by moral philosophers, and claim that it serves as a moral reason for us to act on behalf of the people we used to cherish: former friends, colleagues, neighbors, or spouses. While our relationship with them has ended, the building-blocks of our identity will continue to bear their fingerprints, and they will ever be an important part of our biography. Acting for old times’ sake reflects both our caring about them, and our caring about our own past, biography, and accumulated identity. Why the relationship has ceased will of course affect our attitude towards them. Although old times’ sake might not always be a decisive factor, it still serves as a moral reason for action.

Let’s begin with a few examples. The queue at the supermarket is long. My shopping cart is full of groceries. You are standing behind me, and your cart has only two or three items in it. I let you go ahead of me so that you can finish your shopping quickly.A stranger in the street approaches you and asks you if you can light his cigarette. As a matter of course, you do.David Heyd, Supererogation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), p. 149.You help someone find his way in town, or assist an old woman to cross the road.Ibid, p. 2.A person entering the store ahead of you holds the door open for you so it does not slam in your face.Edna Ulmann-Margalit, “Considerateness,” Iyyun 60, 2011, p. 205.Walking towards your car, about to leave the parking lot, you notice a driver searching in vain for a spot. You motion to her to follow you.You and I are not acquainted with each other, but we happen to sit next to each other at a meeting. You are momentarily called out of the room and I c.

This paper analyzes the nature of insults—a subject that has been rather neglected in the philosophical literature. I claim that an insult has to do with causing us to lose face. We save face with regards to everybody else, and thus anybody is supposedly liable to insult us. In this sense, our interlocutor serves both as an individual encountering us face-to-face, and as an audience in front of whom our weaknesses are exposed. When the insult involves something we know to be wrong, we can try and refute it. True insults are harder to tackle, and therefore might hurt more. But we cannot adopt a strategy of not caring about what others think because it is through interactions with them that we explore both our views and identity.

The concept of reputation has hardly been analyzed by philosophers. My analysis presents a puzzle: reputation is a portrayal of who one is. However, it is dependent on others. This description contradicts David Oderberg’s analogy between reputation and property. I discuss the relation of reputation to gossip and conclude that we should take spreading information seriously. We should go back to the original meaning of gossip: the term “Godsib,” meaning godfather. In our global village we are all entrusted with other’s identities. We should pave our way with that information in a manner that would manifest great care. But this does not mean that these people are exempt from responsibility: the chain that ends in reputation starts with how you behave. It is your very identity that you entrust to other people—make sure to behave in a way that would result in the reputation you want to deserve.