There were already many reasons to like spring: flowers blossoming, the rebirth of nature, and the approaching warmth of summer. But this spring another reason was added to the list. Sven Nyholm (Utrecht University) and Fleur Jongepier (Radboud University) organized a week-long springschool (April 19-23) titled “Moral Theory and Real Life”. The event aimed at exploring how day-to-day life and ordinary experiences are related to and reflected in moral theories. Whereas the ethical theories of a more systematic nature, such as Kantianism, utilitarianism and virtue ethics are usually placed center stage, the springschool purposely reserved ample space for less academically acknowledged ways of doing ethics.
The term “real life” had a twofold meaning in the springschool’s framework. On the one hand, it referred to how moral theories link to real cases and societal issues. On the other hand, it specified how day-to-day issues and cases inform academic life.
What we hope to do in this report is to offer an overview of some of the topics that were discussed or just touched upon by the speakers in the eleven sessions that composed the springschool.
After Sven Nyholm’s introductory session on the three most famous contemporary ethical theories (i.e., virtue ethics, Kantian ethics and utilitarianism), it was time for Fleur Jongepier’s talk on moral pedagogy, moral methodology and feminist meta-ethics. Jongepier, as she admits in a beautifully written post on Digressions & Impressions, fell recently in love with Iris Murdoch. In the post, Jongepier discussed the reasons for philosophical love and argued that this kind of love is not only important for one’s academic wellbeing but also for philosophy itself. In fact, while acknowledging that intellectual love can make us stubborn – so to speak – and prevent us from moving past certain positions and certain authors even when confronted with serious objections, philosophical love can be an intellectual virtue that contributes to keeping certain debates worth having. Furthermore, intellectual emotions are important for one’s own academic wellbeing, in that they make philosophy something we “do” because we are passionate about it. In an academic world in which instrumental thinking, competition, and publishing strategies seem to prevail, it is of utmost importance to remind ourselves why we started to do philosophy in the first place.
Jongepier discussed several reasons why she fell in love with Murdoch, but four of them in particular caught our attention. First, Murdoch cared deeply about topics that we, as human beings, care about in our everyday lives. In fact, according to Murdoch, good scholars are not only knowledgeable about their subject but they are also able to give it a proper place in their lives. They are able to prioritize not-academic life too, and they are able to approach personal topics in a philosophical way. Second, Murdoch is a philosopher whose writing style mixes “proper” academic style with fiction and, in this way, offers freer ways of doing philosophy. Third, Murdoch is a woman and, in a moment in which stories of sexual harassment are all too familiar, Jongepier finds herself unable to feel philosophical love for male philosophers. Fourth, falling in love with a philosopher who used to be absent from university syllabi – at least when Jongepier was a student – leads us to think about issues of epistemic injustice and discrimination within the university. We are all too familiar with the fact that the philosophical canon is not an inclusive one. On the contrary, epistemic practices tend to replicate structures of social power in such a way that the forms of knowing of the powerless in our societies do not make the cut and are not included in what counts as “knowledge” according to Western standards.
In probably one of the most difficult talks of the whole springschool, Susan Brison addressed the topics of consent and of surviving sexual violence. Brison, after having survived an episode of sexual violence that nearly killed her, began to philosophically explore the topic of trauma starting from her own personal experience. She recalls how, at the beginning, she had been discouraged to talk about her philosophical perspectives on surviving sexual violence because it was not “proper” philosophy. Luckily for us, Brison did not let this get in the way of her research, and in 2002 she published Aftermath: Violence and the Remaking of a Self.
In her talk, Brison criticizes the U.S. criminal justice system for not being designed to protect people from violence. As it happened to her, victims of violence are usually asked to forget what happened to them. We cannot be happy with punishing and convicting a few “bad apples”, while all the rest of the people are still out there. To eradicate rape, we have to get rid of patriarchy. To do that, the legal system has to change.
Brison discussed how calling rape “sex without (or minus) consent” is not only politically ineffective as an anti-rape strategy but also a form of epistemic injustice against rape survivors. In fact, seeing rape as a form of “sex without or minus consent” seems weird if we compare it to murder or theft, which we would never define as “suicide without consent” or “gift-giving without consent”. In place of this prevalent definition of rape, Brison suggests a new one: sexualized gender-based violence. Brison embraces a pluralist definition of rape. She is well aware that there is not an all-encompassing definition of rape that can be used in every context. Yet, calling rape “sex without (or minus) consent” is not an appropriate definition in any context.
Consent is not the only thing that distinguishes sex from rape, Brison claims. An important component of rape is the violence that is done to a woman in virtue of the fact that she is a woman. Yet, the definition of rape as “sex without (or minus) consent” harm the victims (and others) by individualizing the harm and epistemically silencing the victims. This prevalent definition obscures the political aspect of the wrongness of rape, namely that it is an instance of a much larger phenomenon. Rape should cease to be seen as a personal misfortune, as a singular act for which individual agents are responsible. Rape is a form of injustice made possible by the unjust and sexist status quo of the world we live in and one which, in order to be eradicated, needs the joint efforts of women and men alike.
The topic of consent was discussed also by Pauline Kleingeld, albeit under a very different light. Kleingeld discussed the introduction of the “real consent” condition in Kant’s political theory. In fact, in her chapter “The Principle of Autonomy in Kant’s Moral Theory: Its Rise and Fall” (in Kant on Persons and Agency, edited by Eric Watkins, 2018), Kleingeld points out that, while the concept of autonomy has a central role in the Groundwork, it almost disappears in the Metaphysics of Morals. According to Kleingeld, this is because in the Groundwork Kant conceived the principle of autonomy as including a legislation analogy in line with the kind of political theory he was defending at the time. However, during the 1790s, Kant changed his political theory. Contrary to his previous position, Kant now states that a political legislator cannot give laws as if he had received the consent of the subjects. In the 1790s, Kant introduced a requirement of actual consent from the subjects. Citizens have to actually subscribe to the legislation given by political bodies. Because of this change, the legislation analogy did not work anymore, and Kant reduces the occurrences of the term “autonomy” (28 times in the Groundworks, 14 in the Critique of Practical Reason, and only 10 times in the Critique of Judgment).
The fact that the subjects have to give “real consent” means that this consent has to be genuine and informed. However, Kleingeld does not give an account of what “genuine” means in this context. Yet, Kleingeld claims that the consent-giving agents should be fully informed not only about the means but also about the goal(s) that the consent-requiring agent is trying to achieve. The consent-giving agents have to consent to the action itself and to the ends behind the action. This does not entail that the consent-giving agents need to share the reasons of the consent-requiring agents. In fact, they could have different motivations and reasons to give consent, but they need to know what they are signing up for.
Jongepier found in Sophie-Grace Chappell, who gave her talk on a sunny Wednesday (late) morning, an ally in her philosophical love for Iris Murdoch and admiration for less systematic ways of doing ethics. Chapell, who is researching on epiphanies or “aha-moments”, sees ethics as being about inwardness, and centrally involving the practice of inward reflection on ethical problems. In her talk, Chapell presented a particular way – her way – of doing ethics without claiming that it is the only (good) one. She argues that the way to go in ethics is by ostensive definition “what is good? Like that!”. While in philosophy there seems to be the widespread idea that the best definitions are the mathematical ones because they are the most rational ones, Chapell argues that this is just one way of thinking about rationality but definitely not the only one.
Julia Driver used to have it out for deliberation, she tells us during her talk. In her earlier work, she argued against theories that portray virtuous people as being reflective and deliberative in various ways. Against this view, she argued that people can be virtuous in circumstances in which they are not, or not entirely, aware of their virtue(s), let alone caught in acts of deliberation. With this stance in mind, you would be forgiven for thinking Driver would concur with Bernard Williams’ notion of the “one thought too many”. Discussing the hypothetical choice between saving your spouse (or another person very close to you) or one or more strangers, Williams argues that asking the question of who to save is a case of “having one thought too many”: It is ethically unsavory to even deliberate on the matter of not saving those close to you. Instead, you should start – and end! – at the only reason you require for saving your spouse: The fact that they are your spouse. Thoughts beyond that, along the lines of “it is permitted to save my spouse under these circumstances because of my special commitments to them” are unnecessary thoughts.
Despite the parallels in their critiques of deliberation, Driver recoiled upon hearing Susan Wolf discuss Williams’ idea. Wolf raised the stakes even further by asking what is appropriate not in the situation itself, but even when you are thinking about it hypothetically. At that point, Driver began considering the positive aspects of deliberation. Why, Driver asks, would it be inappropriate or even unpermitted to bring these considerations to bear? One problematic aspect of hypotheticals, according to Driver herself, is that we might get dragged into deliberating about situations in which basic relationship norms are violated. This can reveal disordered evaluative commitments, which can be highly disturbing: You might find out that people who you thought were very committed are in fact not that committed at all.
Driver also considers criticisms on the moral appropriateness of thought experiments more generally. Two kinds of such criticisms exist. The first is focused on the epistemic defects of thought experiments: Due to them being stripped down, idealized versions of actual (and always unique) real-life situations, they always fail to take into account certain elements of those situations. The second type of criticism is rarer but more fundamental. It holds that the method of moral thought experiments leads young, impressionable undergraduates to corrupt attitudes towards real-life moral situations, instilling a utilitarian way of thinking in the experimenters, eclipsing considerations of a Kantian flavor.
In defense of moral thought experiments, Driver reminds us that we do not face moral dilemmas very often, and might need some practice before we do. She refers here to Murdoch, who argues that what movies, literature, and history do is akin to what thought experiments do: They invite us to think about moral scenarios without actually getting ourselves in real-life dilemmas, thereby enhancing our moral sensibilities. Considering the epistemic shortcomings of these fictional and non-fictional scenarios is something different from labeling them as morally inappropriate, Driver notes. She holds that there are in fact situations in which someone is morally required to violate a serious relationship norm, and considerations about such situations can strengthen one’s moral compass when done correctly. Moral deliberation is not always morally right, but it cannot be banned from our philosophical toolbox.
What does it mean to think (ethics) relationally? Dorothea Gädeke provides us with a nutshell answer in her lecture: Relational theory does not take the individual or the group as its main focus, but relations. As such, relational ethics constitutes a third approach to moral theory, beyond individualism and collectivism. At its core are relational values – values that apply to how people relate to one another. They are distinct from individual values, such as material welfare or personal happiness, which makes no essential reference to others beyond the welfare of specific people or groups. But they also differ from collective values, such as cultural harmony. Examples of relational values are caring, sharing, and non-domination. Some set of such relational values function as the basic standard for a relational ethics, setting limits on other values and determine their import.
A lot of philosophical thought has a relational basis. Gädeke points out a common relational basis underpinning republicanism, critical theory, and some Ubuntu authors. An example of relational thought can be found in the republican idea of freedom as non-domination. Republicans do not see interference in people’s lives as a problem as such. We should direct our attention instead to the kind of social relation in which a person finds herself. Mogobe Ramose’s Ubuntu thought, as another example, holds that one affirms one’s humanness through relations with other humans. It is not collectivist, but also not individualist. Similar to African philosophy, care ethics often has a relational flavor as well. This similarity, Gädeke suggests, might be explained by the fact that our experience of domination (partly) shapes our view on moral theory.
The advantages of using relational ethics as a lens to moral theory are manifold, Gädeke tells us. It can be useful as a lens to compare moral theories, highlighting differences and similarities. Moreover, it can teach us something about the relation between moral theory and related fields such as ontology and epistemology. The kind of social ontology that we endorse defines or at least limits the kind of moral theory we can defend: It negatively restricts what kind of moral theory we can positively endorse (relational, individualist, collectivist). Interestingly, relational moral theories come up with a relational answer to the question of why think ethics relationally, starting from a conception of a human being as essentially relational beings and part of an interconnected universe. Relational moral theory also has epistemological commitments. It is a contextualist, particularist, and practical form of normative reasoning. It posits concrete rational and emotional others, in concrete contexts of domination and non-domination.
So how does one theorize politics relationally? Using relational values to evaluate societies can yield interesting results. In terms of economic analysis, material benefit and individual wellbeing are insufficient for assessing an economic distribution because it does not take into account relationality. In terms of international relations, theorizing politics relationally would mean taking a stance against isolation. Moreover, it poses a challenge to interventionism (in the name of individual rights) and non-interference (on the grounds of a strictly collectivist account). Most importantly, perhaps, could be the fact that seeing politics through a relational lens provides an intrinsic argument for democratic decision-making. It views democracy as meaningful participation of everyone: Any institutional solution has to forego the competitive winner takes all model because it would not place relations center-stage. In the eyes of the relational thinker, democracy becomes not just one means among others to produce a certain outcome, but a crucial component of relational decision-making.
Last but not least, a few (concluding) words on Huub Brower and Sven Nyholm’s talks.
Brouwer discussed an early draft of his paper on the neutrality dilemma for luck egalitarianism. The core idea of luck egalitarianism, as can be found in Dworkin, is that inequalities are acceptable if they derive from the choices that people have voluntarily made. The central distinction is between option luck (result of voluntary choices) and brute luck (result of involuntary choices). Many theoretical approaches to justice that operate within the liberal egalitarian tradition are committed to some version of liberal neutrality: In particular, neutrality in justification – the commitment not to promote certain conceptions of the good over others in justifying state actions. In his talk, Brouwer wonders whether luck egalitarians can be neutral in justification. He argues that they can but are faced with a dilemma. The dilemma is that luck egalitarians cannot simultaneously be committed to neutrality in justification and avoid the objection that they are too harsh on the victims of bad option luck.
In the final talk of the springschool, Sven Nyholm related the ethics of self-driving cars to the trolley problem. In Nyholm’s opinion, comparing real-world ethical issues concerning self-driving cars to the standard cases is either directly or indirectly instructive. It can be directly useful because the trolley problem itself brings up ethical issues that are of immediate importance for the ethics of self-driving cars. Yet, it could also be indirectly useful because the process of highlighting key differences between the real-life ethics of self-driving cars and the philosophy of the trolley problem is a good way of clarifying what matters most for the real-life ethics of self-driving cars.
Despite the online format, the springschool stayed true to its theme by attempting to recreate even the more informal moments that typically characterize real-life events. In fact, attendants connected in smaller meetings to get to know each other and exchange ideas and insights.
One of the elements that we appreciated the most about the event was that all the speakers presented early drafts of their papers. In this way, the discussion moments became a very important component of each event, and really strengthened the idea – sometimes forgotten by academic philosophers – that philosophy is something we “do” together.
Ilaria Flisi is a graduate Research Master's student in Social and Political Philosophy at Radboud University. She wrote her Master's thesis on the interrelationships between aesthetics and ethics, and - more specifically - on the ethical duties of aesthetic experts and art institutions. She completed her Bachelor's degree in Humanities for the Study of Culture at the University of Modena and Reggio Emilia. She has been editor-in-chief of the faculty philosophical journal Splijtstof for the past three years. You'll have her most undivided attention by bringing up any of the following topics: art history, museum practices, epistemic (and real-life) injustice and discrimination, and (sour) beers.
Piet Wiersma
Piet Wiersma is a writer and editor in a development team that creates e-learning modules for local government. He is currently finishing a Research Master's in Political Philosophy at Radboud University, after attaining a Political Science Master's degree in Conflict Studies (RU) with a thesis on the political aesthetics of transitional justice. He worked as a teaching assistant for several Bachelor's courses. You'll have his most undivided attention by bringing up any of the following topics: aesthetics, postmodern ethics, Derrida, Wittgenstein, or fermentation.
