While categorical analyses are unambiguous, they are, at best, teleologically blind and, at worst, teleologically vicious.(a) When teleologically vicious, formal manipulations are nothing more or less than the mask of class dominance. 173
(b) When teleologically blind, formal manipulations ignore whether substantive outcomes are just and elevate the procedural form over the substantive result. 174
(1) The realists' epistemology can be defended, though only in a qualified manner. Truth negationism is inadmissible, but truth skepticism is permissible.
(2) The realists' preferred methodology, balancing tests, can be just as objective as categorical bright-line analyses if, and only if, factors are specified and objectively weighed.
[*1680] (3) The realists' methodology is no more capricious than categorical analyses because it is empirically grounded upon data which are often, though not necessarily, quantifiable and verifiable.
When the Bush Administration took office in January 2001, the Congressional Budget Office projected a $ 5.6 trillion surplus over the next ten years. Now the surplus is gone--thanks in no small part to a $ 1.7 trillion tax cut--and the government faces deficits as far as the CBO computers can calculate.
For a brief and powerful moment, most of the rest of the world genuinely shared our loss. Most were prepared to support us in almost every conceivable way to win the war on terrorism. Needlessly and senselessly, we have squandered that good will. How? In part, by employing bullying rhetoric (as President Bush did in his address to Congress on September 20, 2001, when he said, "either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists"), by reinforcing perceptions of American bias in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and by demanding the world fall in line, on our schedule and on the basis of shifting rationales, to depose Saddam Hussein.
We in the new left assumed that the corporate-liberal model was the only viable framework for sustaining modern capitalism. We assumed that laissez-faire capitalism was a thing of the past, that economic growth could now be permanently engineered by the corporate state, and that a sense of social responsibility was prevalent among corporate managers. And so, we tended to believe, the welfare state did not need defence from the left--our job was to present its conservative functions in dampening social unrest, expanding consumer markets, and undermining class consciousness. The benefits of corporate liberalism for the wider population were assumed by new leftists to be well-established. Our goal was to undertake its critique and try to create alternatives. Over the past 25 years, however, this radical-democratic impulse of the New left has been lost. The explanation of that loss begins in the early 1970s, when the fiscal crisis of the state turned corporate elite consensus against The Model. With corporate profits shrinking under the pressure of global economic competition, elite consensus shifted toward the need to free capital for global opportunities. That meant a lowering of living standards and expectations for American workers, as well as a reduction in state efforts to channel investment for domestic purposes. It was the corporate-liberal state--not laissez-faire--that was obsolete.
[A]ll its connections as well as all other attributes it may be thought to possess, are accidental, contingent, or random, and furthermore, they are so essentially. This is not an empirical, descriptive, tentative claim about our modern nature, it is a transcendental claim about the nature of nature. . . . [T]he postmodern self so dear to the heart of postmodern theorists is . . . as changing, unstable, and unpredictable as the wind. . . . To repeat, that inessential self is . . . not a hypothetical description, subject to modification or amendment as new evidence presents itself. It is a metaphysically transcendent truth. It is very difficult to see what sort of idea West is describing here. At times West seems to regard this postmodern self, like the liberal self, as a description of an empirical entity--a claim about "the nature of nature," albeit one that the postmodernists dogmatically refuse to allow to be contested or corrected by contrary evidence. Confusingly, West depicts the postmodern self as "unstable, and unpredictable as the wind," implying that, like the weather, the postmodern self has a real existence in the world, if one that is sometimes hard to keep track of. West's declaration that the postmodern self is essentially inessential is the sort of glib verbal manipulation feminists have always had to endure in arguments with the patriarchy.
David Hume challenged the scholastic notion of prudence, underscoring the practical insufficiency of such a moral ideal in a society of self-centered beings. In the Aristotelian ideal of prudence, the goal of self-perfection of human character was paramount. According to Hobbes, however, the self in need of perfection was foreign to real political and legal concerns. In his view, of the four cardinal virtues, only justice could maintain full dignity in a truly positivist conception of law. While prudence and the other cardinal virtues of courage and temperance remained desirable attributes of the human character, they no longer could imply the existence of related civil or legal obligations.
This change is imperceptible; but is, however, of the last consequence. For as this ought, or ought not, expresses some new relation or affirmation, 'tis necessary that it shou'd be observ'd and explain'd; and at the same time that a reason should be given, for what seems altogether inconceivable, how this new relation can be a deduction from others, which are entirely different from it.
But as authors do not commonly use this precaution, I shall presume to recommend it to the readers; and am persuaded, that this small attention wou'd subvert all the vulgar systems of morality, and let us see, that the distinction of vice and virtue is not founded merely on the relations of objects, nor is perceiv'd by reason.
Hume's statements about moral sentiments are confused with his statements about moral judgments. It is this confusion which largely accounts for the misinterpretation of (I-O). That (I-O) is not concerned with moral judgments but with moral sentiments is best seen in two ways. First, the entire section deals with a single problem: the attempt to show that moral distinctions or sentiments are perceived not as relations of ideas but as impressions. Second, the conclusions of (I-O) all deal with the analysis of moral distinctions as impressions. Since (I-O) concerns moral sentiments and not moral judgments, we may inquire into the cause of the confusion. At least one reason is that the paragraph is occasionally read or quoted in an incomplete manner. . . . Once we accept the view that moral distinctions are impressions, we must also accept the fact that we can make inferences about such distinctions and even infer their existence from accompanying circumstances.
denies the deductibility of the latter from the former, as the 'ought' expresses 'a new relation or affirmation', 'entirely different from the others'. And this is commonly taken as saying that the ought statement is 'different' and non-deducible, because it is no longer a 'purely factual statement', to wit one that makes another ordinarily testable truth claim. However, recent criticism, by W.D. Hudson and others, points out that Hume says other things seemingly inconsistent with this. . . . How is one to understand Hume here so as to save him from incoherence? It is said by Flew that Hume really meant that moral statements, rather than being about attitudes, serve to express them. The real Hume was the ancestor of noncognitivism, and the 'is-ought' passage its early charter. By contrast, it is said by MacIntyre that really Hume did not mean to deny deducibility. When he said that it 'seemed inconceivable', he meant that it only seemed so without really being so.
David Hume argued that moral assessments involve our emotions, and not our reason. We can amass all the reasons we want, but that alone will not constitute a moral assessment. We need a distinctly emotional reaction in order to make a moral pronouncement. Reason might be of service in giving us the relevant data, but, in Hume's words, "reason is, and ought to be, the slave of the passions." Inspired by Hume's anti-rationalist views, some 20th century philosophers, most notably A.J. Ayer, similarly denied that moral assessments are factual descriptions.
Man kennt meine Forderung an den Philosophen, sich jenseits von Gut und Bose zu steller,-- die Illusion des moralischen Urtheils unter sich zu haben. Diese Forderung folgt aus einer Einsicht, die von mir zum ersten Male formulirt worden ist: dass es gar keine moralischen Thatsachen giebt. Das moralische Urtheil hat Das mit dem religiosen gemein, dass es an Realitaten glaubt, die keine sind. Moral ist nur eine Ausdeutung gewisser Phanomene, bestimmter geredet, eine Missdeutung. Das moralische Urtheil gehort, wie das religiose, einer Stufe der Unwissenheit zu, auf der selbst der Begriff des Realen, die Unterscheidung des Realen und Imaginaren noch fehlt: so dass "Wahrheit" auf solcher Stufe lauter Dinge bezeichnet, die wir heute "Einbildungen" nennen. Das moralische Urtheil 1st insofern nie wortlich zu nehmen: als solches enthalt es immer nur Widersinn. Aber es bleibt als Semiotik unschatzbar: es offenbart, fur den Wissenden wenigstens, die werthvollsten Realitaten von Culturen und Innerlichkerten, die nicht genug wussten, um sich selbst zu "verstehn." Moral ist bloss Zeichenrede, bloss Symptomatologie: man muss bereits wissen, worum es sich handelt, um von ihr Nutzen zu ziehen.
The Republic restates the same thought in the form of the distinction between two realms: that of the noeton, accessible to reason, nous, and of which krowledge, noesis, is possible; and that of the horaton, visible to the eyes, and about which there can be only doxa, what seems, mere opinion.
The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience. The felt necessities of the time, the prevalent moral and political theories, intuitions of public policy, avowed or unconscious, even the prejudices which judges share with their fellow-men, have had a good deal more to do than the syllogism in determining the rules by which men should be governed.
combines relativism with neo-Kantian methodological dualism: statements of what the law ought to be may be established only through other statements concerning the "ought," never through what the law "is." "Ought" statements may not be "discerned but only professed." Therefore, legal science in the field of the "ought" can achieve three things: (1) "establish the means necessary to realize the end that ought to be attained," (2) "think a legal value judgment through down to the remotest means for its realization, [and] . . . clarify it up to its ultimate presuppositions of world outlook," and (3) develop systematically the "conceivable ultimate presuppositions and, consequently, all starting points of legal evaluation." Radbruch presents a relativistic legal philosophy that exhaustively presents the individual with all possibilities from which only he or she can decide.
Postmodern thinkers generally trace their intellectual debts back to Nietzsche, but Nietzsche stands diametrically opposed to the caricature of a postmodern thinker who is paralyzed by the collapse of metaphysics and therefore incapable of critical theorizing. Consequently, Gadamer's arguments against Habermas's critical theory do not carry much force in response to Nietzschean critique. My thesis is that by understanding how Nietzsche can at once be a critical theorist and a postmodern critic of the metaphysical tradition, we can develop an important resource for articulating the role of critical theory within Gadamer's philosophical hermeneutics.
In short, the emergence of moral relativism in Western thought, in which it is believed that there are no objective truths and that morals are relative and subjective, has led contemporary legal theories to reject natural law and other normative concepts. Alexander offers the possibility, however, that it is really the limits of human rationality, and not the limits of morality, that prevent us from perceiving ultimate, substantive truths. Alexander contends that by adopting an epistemology aware of human limitation, contemporary jurisprudence would not develop narrow and short-sighted answers to dilemmas that are inherently not objective, not quantifiable, and not concrete. Instead, a humbled epistemology demands a jurisprudence that seeks the assistance of disciplines other than economics and science such as theology and moral philosophy.
In the morning after this night however Zarathustra sprang up from his camp, girded his loins, and came out of his CAVE glowing and strong, like the dawn's SUN which comes out from behind dark mountains. You giant star', he spoke, as he had first spoken 'you deep eye of luck and joy, what would be your joy and happiness if you did not have they whom you enlighten!/And if they remain in their chambers while you are already awake and come to give and share -how would your pride be upbraided!/Well! They still sleep these higher men, while I am awake. They are not my true comrades. I do not await them here in my mountains!/I want to go to my work, to my day: but they do not understand what the signs of my morning are, my step is for them no wake up call./They still sleep in my cave ...
He who knows not and knows not that he knows not, is a fool. . . shun him. He who knows not and knows that he knows not, is ignorant . . . teach him. He who knows and knows not that he knows, is asleep . . . wake him. He who knows and knows that he knows, is a wise man . . . follow him.
Americans have neither the tradition nor the necessity of living internationally. Their ignorance about foreign countries, cultures and customs, their lack of linguistic abilities, and their inability to always respect foreign sensitivities are entirely understandable. . . . [Others] take offense [however] when . . . American ignorance goes arm-in-arm with American arrogance.
Popper's famous explanatory example is rendered thus by Bryan Magee, "although no number of observation statements reporting observations of white swans allow us logically to derive the universal statement 'All swans are white', one single observation statement, reporting one single observation of a black swan, allows us logically to derive the statement 'Not all swans are white.'"
Hume's point in the Inquiry, and in the 'is-ought' passage, if read in the light of his comments in the Inquiry, is not to deny that merit is cognitively derived from fact but to make sure that this derivation is not mistaken for deduction. . . . The Inquiry, more so than the Treatise, shows Hume's concern in this matter to be two-edged: to ward off the entrenched confusion of evaluative inference with demonstrative proof; and to show what cognitive procedure is instead. . . . Hume's point is that the facts as known are the basis, not of a formal, but rather of an experimental, proof . . . .
[A]n assumption that arguments must be either deductive or defective . . . is the very assumption which underlies Hume's skepticism about induction. And this skepticism is commonly treated as resting upon, and certainly does rest upon, a misconceived demand, . . . "the demand that induction shall be shown to be really a kind of deduction." This is certainly an accurate way of characterizing Hume's transition from the premise that "there can be no demonstrative arguments to prove, that those instances of which we have had no experience resemble those of which we have had experience" to the conclusion that "it is impossible for us to satisfy ourselves by our reason, why we should extend that experience beyond those particular instances which have fallen under our observation." Part of Hume's own point is that to render inductive arguments deductive is a useless procedure. We can pass from "The kettle has been on the fire for ten minutes" to "So it will be boiling by now" (Strawson's example) by way of writing in some such major premise as "Whenever kettles have been on the fire for ten minutes, they boil." But if our problem is that of justifying induction, then this major premise itself embodies an inductive assertion that stands in need of justification. For the transition which constitutes the problem has been justified in the passage from minor premise to conclusion only at the cost of reappearing, as question-beggingly as ever, within the major premise. To fall back on some yet more general assertion as a premise . . . would be to embark on a regress, possibly infinite and certainly pointless.
[S]ince Hume holds in some passages on induction at least that arguments are deductive or defective, we could reasonably expect him to maintain that since factual premises cannot entail moral conclusion . . . there can be no connections between factual statements and moral judgments . . . . [H]is remarks on "is" and "ought" are not only liable to receive but have actually received a wrong interpretation.
What I have so far argued is that Hume himself derives "ought" from "is" in his account of justice. Is he then inconsistent with his own doctrine in that famous passage? Someone might try to save Hume's consistency by pointing out that the derivation of "ought" from "is" in the section on justice is not an entailment and that all Hume is denying is that "is" statements can entail "ought" statements, and that this is quite correct.
[Hume] is arguing that if reason is viewed on the traditional conception, then reason does not determine us to have beliefs, e.g. about the unobserved. But he does not stop with this result. Hume is trying to give an account of human nature based on an examination of how we in fact operate, and when he investigates the processes that go on in us in coming to believe things, he comes to a discovery that we do reason to our beliefs, but what goes on when we reason is not what was traditionally thought to occur. His empirical investigation, then, results in a different understanding of what reason is like, and when reason is viewed according to his interpretation it can be seen that in making the transition from the observed to the unobserved we are reasoning and inferring. I see Hume, then, as rejecting reason under one conception as inoperative in human affairs, but arguing that if conceived in another way, reason does cause belief and influence action. This interpretation, which I develop below, will resolve the paradoxes and explain the inconsistency between Book I and Books II and III.
I have found that such an object has always been attended with such an effect, and 1 foresee that other objects, which are, in appearance, similar, will be attended with similar effects. I shall allow, if you please, that the one proposition may justly be inferred from the other; I know in fact, that it always is inferred. But if you insist that the inference is made by a chain of reasoning, I desire you to produce that reasoning.
All our reasonings concerning matter of fact are founded on a species of Analogy, which leads us to expect from any cause the same events, which we have observed to result from similar causes. Where the causes are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect, and the inference, drawn from it, is regarded as certain and conclusive: nor does any man ever entertain a doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will have weight and cohesion of parts; as in all other instances which have ever fallen under his observation. But where the objects have not so exact a similarity, the analogy is less perfect and the inference is less conclusive; though it still has some force, in proportion to the degree of similarity.
the standard interpretation of this passage takes Hume to be asserting here that no set of nonmoral premises can entail a moral conclusion. It is further concluded that Hume therefore is a prime opponent of what Prior had called "the attempt to find a 'foundation' for morality that is not already moral." Hume becomes, in this light, an exponent of the autonomy of morality and in this at least akin to Kant. In this paper, I want to show that this interpretation is inadequate and misleading.
[Hume] denies the deductibility of the latter from the former, as the 'ought' expresses 'a new relation or affirmation', 'entirely different from the others'. And this is commonly taken as saying that the ought statement is 'different' and nondeducible, because it is no longer a 'purely factual statement,' to wit one that makes another ordinarily testable truth claim. However, recent criticism, by W.D. Hudson and others, points out that Hume says other things seemingly inconsistent with this. . . . How is one to understand Hume so as to save him here from incoherence? It is said by Antony Flew that Hume really meant that moral statements, rather than being about attitudes, serve to express them. The real Hume was the ancestor of noncognitivism and the 'is-ought' passage its early charter. By contrast, it is said by Alasdair MacIntyre that really Hume did not mean to deny deducibility. When he said that it 'seemed inconceivable', he meant that it only seemed so without really being so
[O]ur willingness to accept the normative conception of ethics is so deeply embedded that, when someone such as Hume challenges it, we take the challenge as a classic defense. (I-O) is not the foundation of normative ethics but its death warrant. Perhaps the shock value of this revelation will lead us to reconsider what might be the most important issue in twentieth-century philosophy.
How does Hume defend his view of the derivation of morality from interest? By appeal to the facts. How do we in fact induce someone to do what is just? How do we in fact justify actions on our own part? In observing what answers we have to give to questions like these, Hume believes that his analysis is justified.
Hume's rejection of "ought" as a special moral category is far more revolutionary than his rejection of the traditional concept of causal necessity. . . . One can no longer chant the refrain that "ought is not deducible from is" because this presupposes the very thing that is to be proved, and it is the very thing that Hume rejects, namely the existence of peculiarly normative entities. In place of a normative conception, Hume holds the view that ethics is an empirical science.
I have referred to mechanical jurisprudence as scientific because those who administer it believe it such. But in truth it is not science at all. We no longer hold anything scientific merely because it exhibits a rigid scheme of deductions from a priori conceptions. In the philosophy of to-day, "theories are instruments, not answers to enigmas, in which we can rest."
Nor did balancing commit the Court to an overall theory of a constitutional provision. The old conceptualization could be discarded and a balancing approach could temporarily fill the theoretical void while the Court groped towards a conception more attuned to the times. Of course, there was the risk that balancing's flexibility would be viewed as unprincipled adjudication.
The legal realists, Tushnet explained, demonstrated the indeterminacy of legal doctrine, which meant that rules and precedents could be manipulated to produce often contradictory legal outcomes. The result was, the realists argued, that the explanation for these outcomes must be sought outside of the system of legal doctrine, in the sociology of power.
The second premise of liberalism is the principle of subjective value. This radical epistemology emphasises that moral truth and moral worth are subjective, because as an epistemological matter universal morality is unknowable. There is no accessible "objective value," "intelligible essence," "virtue," or Platonic form. There can be "no natural distinctions among things, nor any hierarchy of essences that might serve as the basis for drawing up general categories of facts and classifying particulars under those categories."
From 1930 to 1940, federal spending tripled in volume as new programs were created and old ones expanded in a costly effort to revive the collapsing economy. As a share of the gross domestic product (GDP), federal spending rose from 3.4 percent in 1930 to 9.8 percent in 1940. Yet, despite this unprecedented surge in spending, America's GDP fell by 27 percent part way through the decade and by 1938 was less than two percent above its 1929 level. For American workers, the failure of this spending spree to do anything more than expand the deficit and bureaucracy was devastating. The number of unemployed more than doubled from 2.8 million at the beginning of the decade to 6.9 million in 1940.
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| Date/Time: | Wednesday, August 15, 2007 - 6:13 PM EDT |