Two Senses of Providing Reasons

I will like to introduce a distinction between two senses in which a psychological state, X, may provide one with a reason to adopt a belief or intention.  My hope is that the distinction is both clear and intuitive. So here it is:

(1)  X provides us with a reason to adopt Y by putting us in touch with a consideration that speaks in favour of adopting Y. 

(2)  X provides us with a reason to adopt Y by constituting a consideration that speaks in favour of adopting Y.  

The difference between (1) and (2) is the difference between the perceptual appearance that it is raining outside giving one a reason to believe that it is raining outside, and the fact that one has the perceptual appearance that there is a pink elephant in the corner of the room giving one a reason to check oneself into a hospital.  In the first case, the perceptual appearance provides one with a reason by putting one in touch with a consideration that is independent of the perceptual appearance itself and which speaks in favour of adopting the belief that it is raining outside—namely, the fact that it is raining outside.  The fact that it is raining outside is independent of the perceptual appearance of it raining outside in the sense that the fact would obtain (and constitute a reason to believe that is raining outside) even if one did not have the perceptual appearance in question.  By contrast, the fact that one has the perceptual appearance of a pink elephant in the corner of the room does not put one in touch with some independent consideration in favour of adopting the intention to check oneself into the hospital.  Rather, the perceptual appearance itself constitutes the relevant consideration. 

Significantly, when a psychological state provides one with a reason in the first sense, it does so in virtue of the fact that it is an intentional state with objective purport.  The perceptual appearance that it is raining provides one with a reason to believe it is raining because it purports to put one in touch with a mind-independent fact—to wit, the fact that it is raining.  If (following Franz Brentano) we assume that psychological states are distinctive because they have the property of intentionality or aboutness, then we can say that when a psychological state provides one with reasons in the sense described in (1), it is doing so qua psychological state.  

By contrast, when a psychological state provides one with a reason in the sense described in (2), it does not do so qua psychological state (i.e., in virtue of being a state with the property of aboutness).  Rather, it provides one with a reason in the very same way that any old fact might.  For example, the fact that I’m bleeding profusely gives me a reason to check myself into the hospital in the very same sense that having the perceptual appearance that there is a pink elephant gives me a reason to check myself into the hospital. If this is right, and given that the former lacks the property of aboutness, then it follows that the latter does not provide rational guidance of the relevant kind in virtue of having the property of aboutness.  Hence, only (1) describes a type of rational significance that is uniquely had by psychological states.

Is the preceding distinction clear? Is it plausible? Your thoughts... 

On the Nonexistence of Practical Withholding

In this post, I wish to highlight what I take to be an important but under-appreciated disanalogy between rationally permissible belief and rationally permissible action. I will say more about why I think this disanalogy is under-appreciated in later posts. For now, I will simply attempt to identify the disanalogy, and say something about why it exists.

Consider the following example of an agent engaged in a piece of practical deliberation:

Example 1: Lorry Driver Intention

A lorry driver, Jesse, is trying to decide between continuing to drive down a long stretch of road or stopping for a break.  After weighing all the considerations in favour of continuing to drive (e.g., she is more likely to make her delivery on time) and all the considerations in favour of taking a break (e.g., she would be able to get some much deserved shut-eye), she comes to the conclusion that the total evidence available is inconclusive either way.  She has just as much reason to continue driving as she does to stop and take a break. Jesse decides to flip a coin: ‘head-side-up’ for continuing to drive, and ‘tail-side-up’ for stopping for a break.  When the coin lands ‘tail-side-up’, Jesse pulls the lorry off to the side of the road and removes the key from the ignition. 

I take the following three claims to be uncontroversially true about the agent is Example 1:

(1)  The fact that Jesse decided to flip a coin and the coin landed tails-side-up explains why she decided to stop driving. 

(2)  The fact that Jesse decided to flip a coin and the coin landed tail-side-up does not justify her decision to stop driving. 

(3)  Jesse is not guilty of any irrationality for basing her decision to stop driving on the fact that she decided to flip a coin and the coin landed tail-side-up. 

Now, consider the following modified version of the Lorry Driver Intention example:

Example 2: Lorry Driver Belief

Jesse, the lorry driver, is trying to determine if the following the proposition is true: (H): “My lorry will run out of petrol before the next station”.  However, suppose that all the evidence available is inconclusive.  Jesse has just as much evidence in favour of (H) as she does against (H).  She therefore decides to flip a coin.  Assigning the value of ‘true’ to head-side-up, and ‘false’ to tail-side-up, and proceeds to flip a coin.  When the coin lands head-side-up, Jesse comes to believe (H).  Jesse radios her dispatching and reports that she believes her lorry will run out of petrol before the next station.  When she is asked why she believes this, she explains that since all the evidence she has available was inconclusive, the decided to flip a coin.  Incredulous, the dispatcher points out that a coin flip fails to constitute evidence one way or the other.  Jesse agrees, but insists that the coin flip remains the basis of her belief.

I take the following three claims to be uncontroversially true about the agent in Example 2:

(1)  The fact that Jesse decided to flip a coin and the coin landed heads-side-up explains why she believes the lorry will run out of petrol. 

(2)  The fact that Jesse decided to flip a coin and the coin landed heads-side-up does not justify her belief that the lorry will run out of petrol. 

(3)  Jesse is guilty of irrationality for basing her belief that she will run out of petrol on the fact that she decided to flip a coin and the coin landed heads-side-up. 

In contradistinction to the first example, the agent in the second example appears to display gross irrationality.  This suggests an important disanalogy between rationally permissible belief and rationally permissible action. While an agent’s actions may be rationally permissible even though the explanation of her action fails to justify her action, the same cannot be said of an agent’s beliefs.  

I will now attempt to offer an explanation of why the above disanalogy between rationally permissible belief and action exists:  

Theoretical deliberation always involves a choice between three doxastic attitudes: believing, disbelieving, or withholding belief and disbelief.  This means failing to believe that P does not entail disbelieving P and failing to disbelieve P does not entail believing P.  Withholding P always remains an option. Withholding P, as I am using the expression, is not the same as failing to adopt an attitude of belief and disbelief towards P.  One may fail to adopt an attitude of belief and disbelief towards P because one has simply not considered P.  In such a case, one neither believes nor disbelieves P.  But one is not withholding P either.   One simply has not taken any attitude towards P.  In short, withholding P is as much an attitude towards P as believing or disbelieving P.  

I believe that the disanalogy between reasons for belief and reasons for actions, highlighted in the previous section, is tied to the absence of a practical analogue to withholding. Consider once again the lorry driver who has to decide between continuing to drive and stopping for a break.  The lorry driver’s decision has a zero-sum structure. If she adopts the intention to continue driving, she has ipso facto adopted the intention not to take a break.  The same is true, mutatis mutandis, if she adopts the intention to take a break. There is no attitude of practical withholding that she may adopt as an end point of her deliberative process. In sum, while there are three possible doxastic attitudes one can take towards P—believing P, disbelieving P, and withholding P—there are only two possible volitional attitudes one can take towards an outcome—intending to bring about P and intending not to bring about P.  On the present analysis, not intending to bring about P is not an attitude towards bringing about P but rather the absence of an attitude towards bringing about P.

In cases in which the weighing of evidence is relevant, one must have net evidence in favour of believing or disbelieving in order for either attitude to be rationally permissible.  Believing P is rationally permissible only if one’s net evidence is in favour of P.  Disbelieving P is rationally permissible only if one’s net evidence is against P.   If one lacks any evidence for or against P or if one has equal amounts of evidence both for and against P, then one is rationally obligated to withhold P. Hence, since the agent in the second example has equal amounts of evidence both for and against the truth of the claim that her lorry will run out of petrol, she is rationally obligated to withhold belief.  By contrast, she could have no analogous obligation when it comes to the question of whether she should continue or stop driving since withholding from both is simply not an option.  Hence, even if she has equal amounts of evidence in favour of continuing to drive and stopping for a break, she still has to do one or the other.  Simply put, practical withholding is not an option.  The upshot is that, unlike belief, there cannot be a requirement that an agent's net evidence favour a course of action in order for that course of action to be rationally permissible.  

How Monkeys Mirror Human Irrationality

Theoretical and Practical Transitions

Let us refer to all belief-yielding psychological transitions (e.g., the transition from a perceptual experience to a belief) as theoretical transitions, and all intention-yielding psychological transitions (e.g., the transition from a desire to an intention) as practical transitions. A transition qualifies as psychological, on the present view, only if it has representational content. The distinction between theoretical and practical transitions hinges on the recognition of two distinct kinds of representational content. The first is associated with psychological states that represent a certain state of affairs as being the case and are legitimately deemed faulty if the state of affairs in question is not the case. The second is associated with psychological states that do not represent a certain state of affairs as being the case and which are therefore not deemed faulty if the state of affairs in question is not the case.

I maintain that a psychological state is good just in case it is not legitimately deemed faulty, and bad otherwise. The conditions under which a specific psychological state is legitimately deemed good or bad constitutes that state’s correctness conditions. Thus, I hold that goodness and badness (i.e., goodness conditions) are the primary and most basic form of correctness conditions for a psychological state. Moreover, I hold that truth is simply one instance of the good, relative to psychological states that represent a certain state of affairs as being the case (i.e., those that fall under the umbrella of theoretical transitions). A psychological state represents truly just in case it represents a particular state of affairs as being the case and the state of affairs in question really is the case.

Because of the important role played by the notion of truth in our ordinary discourse, we often find it necessary to speak about truth in ways that set it apart from other forms of goodness. Truth is primus inter pares. In this regard, the concept of truth is analogous to the concept of the human; for while human beings are considered a type of animal, the important role played by the notion of the human in our ordinary discourse often requires that we speak about humans in ways that set them apart from all other animals. Hence, just as we may juxtapose humans and animals, although strictly speaking, humans are a type of animal), so too we may juxtapose the true and the good (although, strictly speaking, truth is a type of goodness).

The juxtaposition of humans and animals is legitimated by the fact that humans have a special characteristic (i.e., the ability to respond to reasons as such) that all other animals lack, and this characteristic plays a special role in our ordinary discourse. Similarly, the juxtaposition of truth and goodness is legitimated by the fact that truth has a special characteristic (i.e., its identification with states of affairs that are the case) that all other forms of goodness lack, and this characteristic plays an important role in our ordinary discourse. Hence, we may refer to the correctness conditions of a psychological state that represents a particular state of affairs as being the case as truth conditions, and I will describe all other psychological states as having goodness conditions.

It is often observed that the specification of the content of a perceptual experience or perceptual belief is worded in terms of a that-clause. One may, for instance, see that there is an apple on the table, or believe that there is an apple on the table. By contrast, the specification of the content of a desire or intention typically takes the form of a to-clause. One may desire to eat an apple or intend to eat an apple. However, while such grammatical details are suggestive, they are far from conclusive. For example, Myles Brand observes that the content of an intention may often be specified in terms of a that-clause; a claim he illustrates with the example: “Richard intends that he vote in the next election.”(Italics mine)

I believe that a more philosophically interesting way of unpacking the difference between theoretical and practical transitions is to note that an ideal rational agent that holds a belief (i.e., a psychological state resulting from a theoretical transition) to the effect that S obtains, when confronted with conclusive evidence that S does not obtain, will revise her belief, whereas an ideal rational agent with an intention (i.e., a psychological state resulting from a practical transition) to bring S about, may retain this intention even in the face of conclusive evidence that S does not obtain.

One upshot of the claim that theoretical and practical transitions have different kinds of content is that the content of a theoretical transition could not feature in a practical transition, and vice versa. Dennis Stampe commits himself to such a view when he notes that it is impossible to transition from the propositional content of a belief to the content of an intention. He writes:

Starting from It would be good if p, and perhaps Only my doing A will make it the case that p, by what logic do we pass to I will do A? All that seems to follow is that It would be good to do A—and this neither denotes an action nor the content of an intention; further premises would yield I ought to do A, but to believe that is not to do A. We confront a logical gap. And it cannot, it seems, be bridged by the addition of further beliefs.

Here, Stampe observes that practical and theoretical transitions are distinct types of transitions with their own respective types of content. Any attempt to reduce the content of an intention (or desire) to that of a belief or judgement is therefore moribund. In the discussion that follows I take Stampe’s observation, along with the definition of practical transitions as intention-yielding, seriously. A transition that is belief-yielding, but which happens to have practical content (i.e., happens to be about some action the agent is performing) does not qualify as a practical transition on this view.

On Types of Explanation: Ben’s Reply to Me

The following is Ben's reply to my post, On Types of Explanation: My Reply to Ben.

Thanks for the reply. Let me clarify what I meant to say in my own post about two points germane to the issue between us.

First, I did not mean to suggest that there cannot be different kinds of explanation, where a difference in kind marks, say, a difference in the sorts of considerations that fill in explanatory gaps (e.g., law-governed particles vs. psychological states). Nor did I mean to rule out differences in kinds of explanation where this marks the fact that there are different standards involved (e.g., due to differences in the background understanding of the recipient of the explanation). This last point is relevant to the issue of whether justification is a kind of explanation, which I will return to below. What I did want to stress is that these differences need not mark different concepts of explanation (e.g., folk-psychological vs. scientific). I did not mean to say, on the one hand, that there is only one type of explanation, and then, on the other, speak of different kinds of explanation. What I wanted to say is that there is one concept and different ways of falling under it.

I think this is all compatible with saying that our scientific practices and folk-psychological practices of explaining phenomena in the world appeal to different ‘storehouses’ of explanans. What I want to insist on is that the activity of explaining is in all cases formally similar (the explanation is offered by one who aims to thereby plug a gap in someone’s understanding). The appeal to different sorts of information does not make different kinds of explanations different in this regard. And neither does a difference in what it takes to plug the gap in understanding. One reason why I think this picture is helpful is that it allows us to explain differences in types of agent (e.g., non-rational vs. rational; reasons-responsive vs. responsive to reasons as such) according to differences in parameters on adequate explanation.

The second point I would like to clarify has to do with justification. By a 'justified agent' you take me to refer to the agent the explanation is about--as you put it, the explanandum. But--and this is crucial here--in some cases this agent may also be the recipient of the explanation. So we may speak of a 'justified agent' in the following two senses, call them third personal and first personal.

From the third personal point of view, we speak of an agent as justified when we can articulate an explanation of her behavior that appeals to her take on the situation and that plugs a gap in our normatively-loaded background understanding—i.e., a background understanding that includes things like norms governing formations of beliefs and intentions. When we speak of a 'justified agent' from the third personal point of view, this does not entail (i) that the agent can recognize reasons as such nor (ii) that the agent has a justifying reason for her behavior. Presumably, the agent has at least a motivating reason (a consideration that that motivates her behavior) and our explanation is in terms of this (e.g., what plugs the gap is the agent’s supposed representation of an approaching poacher). Moreover, as we are the sorts of agents who can receive explanations that fill gaps in a normatively-loaded background understanding--i.e., justifications--the agent's motivating reason may justify her behavior to us. But the agent herself need not have a justifying reason because she need not be the sort of agent who can have a normatively-loaded background understanding.

In the first personal case, a 'justified agent' is both the object and recipient of the explanation of her behavior. So the distinction between the one performing the behavior and the one normatively situating the explanation of this performance collapses. An explanation of one's own behavior that satisfies a gap in a normatively-loaded understanding of the situation entails that the agent (i) can recognize reasons as such and (ii) has a justifying reason for the behavior.

So in the first personal case the object and recipient both are relevant to the standards in terms of which a proper justifying explanation is given. In the third personal case this is not so. And this difference between the two cases explains why the capacity for reflection is necessary for having justifying reasons. The 'justified agent' who first personally explains her behavior to herself by plugging a gap in her normatively-loaded background understanding--i.e., articulates a justifying reason for her behavior--manifests her capacity for reflection. We can say that she has a justifying reason. The 'justified agent' whose behavior is third personally explained does not necessarily manifest a capacity for reflection. And this is why this second agent might not have a justifying reason. Nevertheless, we can speak of the agent as justified because we can articulate a consideration that plugs a gap in our normatively-loaded background understanding when we look at things from the agent’s point of view. And we can assume that agents other than ourselves have justifying reasons because we can speak of them as justified in this third personal way and assume that they, like us, can receive justifying explanations. So my view does not commit me to a suspect solipsism.

Again, as we have discussed in earlier posts, this does not mean that we illicitly import desires or beliefs about the situation when considering the situation from the agent’s point of view. Rather, we take up what we assume to be the agent’s own psychological representations of the situation (though we can be wrong about what psychological states we suppose the agent to have). But given that we are the sorts of creatures who understand the world in terms of norms, we can situate the supposed representations of the agent in a normative context. Perhaps we can also abstract away from the normatively-loaded understanding through which we usually view the world. We might then articulate a mere explanatory reason, or mere motivating reason. I think this is plausible. But the point I want to insist on is that there seems to me to be a clear way in which we can articulate justifying reasons for other agents and not thereby commit ourselves to the claim that those agents have justifying reasons at all. The reason we can do these two things is that we can take up their perspective in the context of our own normatively-loaded understanding. Since the adopted perspective is theirs (including their supposed representation of the situation) it is apt to talk of the reasons being their reasons. But since the normative background is ours, it is at the same time apt to talk of them not having these reasons.

I hope this clarifies some of what I meant. Thinking about your remarks has helped me to get clearer on things in my own mind.

On Types of Explanation: My Reply to Ben

The following is my reply to Ben's post, On Justification and Explanation: Ben's Reply to Me:

In your post, you express some reservations about my distinction between two types of explanation. I suspect that there is no canonical answer to the question: is there a single type of explanation? Usually, whether or not we decide to distinguish between two or more subclasses that fall under a general heading will depend on our goals and the level of specificity necessary for achieving them. You prefer to keep things general; restricting yourself to a single conception of explanation; one that applies unequivocally to all replies to why-questions.

However, I believe the question presently at hand demands a greater level of specificity than that offered by your broad account of explanation. Presumably, even you would concede that there are important differences between the two examples of explanation you mention; namely, an explanation of why water boils and an explanation of why a monkey climbs a tree. The explanation of why water boils only appeals to considerations that display the regularity characteristic of the type of laws described by the physical sciences. However, the explanation of why a monkey climbs a tree includes considerations that do not display the same kind of regularity – namely, psychological processes or events. Our folk psychology may be seen (inter alia) as a storehouse of criteria for the attribution of psychological states; it encodes norms governing psychological processes and events. No such storehouse is necessary for the explanation of water boiling; the special function served by our folk psychology has no bearing on such explanations. This, no doubt, constitutes an important difference between the two explanations; one that I believe is salient to the question of agency and our reason-giving practises.

Now, it seems to me that when you say that justification is a “special sort of explanation”, you thereby concede that there is more than one type of explanation. Consequently, there seems to be some tension between your claim that there is only one type of explanation and your claim that justification is a special kind of explanation. You take as your point of departure the claim that explanation is a matter of filling in gaps in the understanding. But this raises the question: gaps in whose understanding? Initially, your answer is gaps in the understanding of the person to whom the explanation is being given (as opposed to the person the explanation is about - i.e., the explanandum). This suggests one possible diagnosis of why it was tempting for you to conclude that the explanations of a monkey’s behaviour and the behaviour of water molecules are, in all salient respects, the same. After all, in both cases, there is a gap being filled in the understanding of the person to whom the explanation is given. Consequently, if the understanding of the person to whom the explanation is being given is the only salient factor vis-a-vis the kind of explanation given, then it would follow (from the fact that the person to whom an explanation is given is always an agent of a single broad type – namely, a rational agent) that there is only one type of explanation.

However, later in your post you seem to reject (albeit implicitly) the assumption that the person to whom an explanation is given is the only relevant factor vis-a-vis the type of explanation given. For example, you claim that in order to be justified, an agent must have the capacity to recognise reasons as such. Moreover, you take justification to be a type of explanation. But notice, if explanation is simply about filling in gaps in the understanding of the person to whom the explanation is being given, then there would be no need for a justified agent (i.e., the person that a particular explanation is about) to recognise reasons as such. Thus, your claim that justification requires that the justified agent (i.e., the explanandum) be able to recognise reasons as such entails that the person to whom a particular explanation is given is not the only salient factor vis-a-vis the type of explanation given. The upshot is that it does not follow from the fact that the explanation of a monkey’s behaviour and the explanation of the behaviour of boiling water both fill in gaps in someone’s understanding (namely, the person to whom the explanation is given), that the respective explanations are of the same kind.

Once we dispense with the offending assumption – namely, the assumption that the person to whom an explanation is given is the only determinant of the nature of an explanation – we are now in a position to recognise that the object of an explanation may also determine the nature of the explanation given. This brings us back to the point with which I began this post; namely, that since the object of explanation in the boiling water example lacks psychological states and the object of explanation in the monkey example possesses psychological states, the types of explanations at play in the two cases are different. I unpack this claim by noting that the first kind of explanation only appeals to considerations that display the regularity indicative of the laws described by the physical sciences, while the second kind of explanation - i.e., folk psychological explanations - appeals to considerations that fail to display the same kind of regularity - namely, psychological processes and events.

On Justification and Explanation: My Reply to Ben

What follows is my response to the questions posed by Ben in the comments following his post.

I’m not sure how you’re using the words ‘justification’ or ‘explanation’ here; these are terms of art and philosophers tend to define them in different ways. Moreover, on the way I’m inclined to use the word ‘explanation’, your question as to whether entitlement falls on the justification or explanation side of the divide does not lend itself to a straightforward answer. In fact, given my way of carving things up, the question would be somewhat ill-formed; the distinction between justification and explanation is simply not salient. Instead of talking about explaining a belief or action, I prefer to speak about making a belief or action intelligible. (The 'making intelligible' locution is meant to highlight the difference between the types of explanation implicated in our folk psychology, and that offered by the natural/physical sciences). The difference is not simply terminological. The philosophically interesting respects in which my preferred way of carving things up differs from your own may be seen in the following summary of the view I find most attractive.

When we ask why an agent believes such and such (at least in the sense of ‘why’ I presently have in mind), the question presupposes that the transitions that give rise to the belief are subject to certain norms relating to truth. Analogously, when we ask why an agent performs some action, the question presupposes that the transitions that give rise to the agent’s intentions are subject to certain norms relating to what ought to be done (what I refer to as ‘goodness-conditions’). I refer to both the norms relating to truth and goodness as ‘rational norms’. This way of putting things involves broadening the applicability of reason-talk to include more than the norms relating to truth. Moreover, I hold that a transition may be subject to a rational norm even if the agent engaged in the transition lacks the conceptual resources necessary to understand that norm. The upshot is that even the psychological transitions of animals may be subject to rational norms.

On the present view, a transition’s being subject to a rational norm does not entail or require that the agent performing the transition be able to assess whether or not that transition is rational. (Assessment is, of course, reserved for agents with the required conceptual capacities; namely, rational agents.) Thus, I distinguish between the conditions necessary for performing a transition that is rationally evaluable and the conditions necessary for evaluating a transition’s rationality. The first set of conditions are met by all agents with beliefs and intentions, while the second is met only by those agents that can reflect on (i.e., rationally evaluate) their beliefs or intentions. Moreover, it is only agents capable of evaluating their own beliefs and intentions that may be correctly described as ‘rationally responsible’. To say that an agent is rationally responsible is to say, not only that the agent’s beliefs or intentions, but also the agent herself is rationally evaluable. Thus, I also distinguish between the necessary conditions for an agent’s beliefs and intentions being rationally evaluable and the necessary conditions for an agent being rationally evaluable in the light of her beliefs and intentions. The latter are only met by rational agents.

To say that a transition is rational is, on the present view, to say that it is reason-providing. This reason provides the agent with an entitlement to beliefs or intentions based on that transition. When a suitably equipped agent comes to recognise her reasons as such, her entitlement (eo ipso) becomes a justification. Thus, a justification is what an entitlement becomes when an agent comes to recognise her reasons as reasons. In sum, I hold that the reasons that provide an agent with an entitlement to a certain belief or intention also constitute an agent’s justification just in case the agent recognises those reasons as reasons. The upshot is that the very reasons that constitute an agent’s entitlement may also constitute her justification; this leaves no room for a distinction between the kind of reasons that justify and kind that explain.

The preceding upshot – namely, that the account on offer leaves no room for the distinction between explanatory and justificatory reasons – may seem like a glaring omission. However, I believe that the intuitions that motivate the standard distinction between explanatory and justificatory reasons may be accommodated (without violence) by the distinction between theoretical and practical transitions. Time won’t allow me to fully unpack the view here. But the gist of it is that the content of theoretical transitions roughly corresponds with the kind of reasons that fall on the justificatory side of the traditional divide, and the content of practical transitions roughly corresponds with the kind of reasons that fall on the explanatory side of the traditional divide. Another way the point may be put (though it does not get things quite right) is to say that while theoretical transitions justify, practical transitions explain. This does not get things quite right since, as I noted above, I prefer to say that theoretical and practical transitions are salient to our respective attempts to render an agent’s beliefs and intentions intelligible. Both represent modes of folk-psychological explanation (which, again, must be contrasted with the types of explanations in the natural/physical sciences). In sum, I hold that the concepts of entitlement and justification (whether theoretical or practical in form) are explanatory concepts; they represent a fundamental part of our folk psychological attempts to render beliefs and intentions intelligible.

With regards to your second question, I believe that the notion of entitlement, like all normative notions, can only be applied by an agent equipped with the necessary concepts. But the question that presently concerns us is not who may apply a normative concept, but rather what a normative concept may have application to. I believe a certain state of affairs can be described as being good for a cat (in the most literal sense imaginable), even if the cat lacks the conceptual resources necessary to understand this fact or apply the concept of goodness in its own case or anyone else’s. Moreover, when we say that a certain state of affairs is good for a cat, we do not mean that it would be good for us if we were in the cat’s place. We mean it is good for the cat. For example, if I were in the corner of the room chewing on a freshly killed mouse, this state of affairs would not be good for me. But given the desires and needs of the cat, it may certainly be good for it. In short, when I say that “chewing on a freshly killed mouse” is good for the cat, I mean from the cat’s perspective (given the cat’s needs, beliefs and desires), not my own.

The need to distinguish between our perspective and that of an animal, whose beliefs and intentions we happen to be evaluating, becomes important when one considers that the evaluations in each case may actually be at odds. For example, a die-hard vegan may believe that it would be bad for her (or any other human being) to ingest the flesh of another animal and yet hold that it is good for a lion to do so. When the vegan says it is good for the lion to do so, she is not putting herself (with all her human capacities and desires) in the lion’s place, for if she were to do so, then whatever moral qualms she has about humans consuming animal flesh would continue to apply. Thus, her assessment of the lion cannot simply be a result of her projecting human capacities to the lion. Rather, she reflects on the lion’s needs, beliefs and desires (not her own) and concludes that the act of ingesting animal flesh is good (from the lion’s perspective. Moreover, reflecting on the lion’s perspective presupposes that it has one, and that this perspective belongs to the lion; not to the human being evaluating the lion’s actions.

The problem I have with your claim that talk of a lion’s reasons is simply metaphorical is that it threatens to obscure the above observations; it gives the impression that the lion really does not have a perspective, independent of the perspective of the human being evaluating the lion's beliefs or actions. This is why I emphasised that the human evaluator could get things wrong when she attempted to attribute certain beliefs and desires to an animal. The possibility that the human evaluator may be mistaken entails that there is something (independent of the human evaluator) that she could be mistaken about. Moreover, I maintain that the lion would continue to have a perspective even if there were no humans around to make evaluations based on it. But your view seems to entail that if all human beings died tomorrow, lions would no longer have a perspective from which certain states of affairs could be evaluated as good or bad. Of course, there would be no one around to carry out the evaluations, but that would not mean that ingesting wood chips and animal flesh would suddenly be seen as on a par by lions. Lions would continue to see ingesting wood chips as something not to be done (which, on my account, constitutes a certain state of affairs being represented as bad) and ingesting animal flesh as something to be done (which, on my account, constitutes a certain state of affairs being represented as good). In brief, when I say that a lion has a reason to stalk and kill a gazelle (for example, in order to feed its cubs), I am saying something about the lion, not about myself.

On Reasons and Animals: Ben's Reply to Me

What follows is Ben's response to my previous post:

Thank you for paying such close attention to my comments and for such a thorough and thoughtful reply. Let me mention that I really do not want to deny that animals are agents (that would be absurd) or that we can give explanations of animal behavior using ‘reason’ in (one of) its ordinary meanings. That is, animals are properly and non-metaphorically spoken of as agents and as behaving intelligibly (i.e., in ways that make sense given certain considerations).

That said, I still have a complaint about your conclusion that the monkey’s transition of thought in Hurley’s case (from A is dominant over B and B is dominant over C to A is dominant over C) gives the monkey a reason to believe that A is dominant over C—or, as you take them to be equivalent, justifies the monkey’s belief that A is dominant over C.

You’ve brought out two nice distinctions in your last two posts: first, the distinction between responding to reasons and responding to reasons as such; second, the distinction between reasons-for-which and reasons-with-which. I assume that these are not identical distinctions, but they share something important in common. In both cases, it takes an extra capacity to be the sort of creature to which the latter terminology is applicable. Human beings but not all agents act for reasons as such, and the same is true with respect to reasons-with-which. And this is the case because human beings have the capacity for reflection. I think this is all important and true.

But I also think that it does not show that a transition of thought like the one in the monkey case is reason-giving for the monkey. This is the claim at issue. You say that the transition of thought is reason-giving, but you deny that the monkey acts on the recognition of a reason as such (and so also, I assume, you deny that the monkey acts with a reason). I agree that the monkey does not act on the recognition of a reason as such (or with a reason). But I deny that the transition of thought gives the monkey a reason. The reason that I deny this is that I do not think that the rationality of the transition (i.e., its intelligibility in response to the relevant considerations) gives the monkey anything. From the monkey’s perspective, nothing is more or less justified before or after the transition of thought. Equivalently: nothing is justified for the monkey.

I think there is a similarity between the inanimate object and the monkey. Neither the monkey nor the knife, say, can gain a reason on the basis of a transition of thought. The explanation of why this is so in each case reveals a difference between the monkey and knife. The knife cannot gain a reason based on a transition of thought because the knife cannot have thoughts. The monkey cannot gain a reason based on a transition of thought, I claim, because the monkey cannot have reasons in the relevant sense. The relevant sense is, by your own lights, that the monkey’s belief is justified.

Now I can see two ways of making sense of the claim that the monkey’s belief is justified. First, the belief may be justified for the monkey. But this, I claim, requires that the monkey be able to countenance a reason as such. And we both deny that. Second, the belief may be justified for us when we consider things from the monkey’s perspective. This is the view I tried to advocate for in my comment to your previous post. You quote a sentence from those comments to the effect that we project our deliberative perspective on the monkey when thinking about the intelligibility of the monkey’s behavior. I stand by this claim. And I don’t think that it ignores the distinction between the monkey and the knife. We might project on both, even if the one can have thoughts and the other cannot.

To press you further, I think that there is an important distinction missing from this discussion. We might cite a reason for the monkey’s behavior in the sense of a consideration that explains why the monkey did such-and-such. But this is not yet to say that the consideration justifies anything. A justifying explanation requires that the one to whom the explanation is given has the capacity to take up and evaluate the explanatory considerations. And the monkey cannot do this, I think. We can, I think, because we have the capacity to reflect on possible determining grounds of our behavior and choose between them—we have the capacity for reflection.

My view allows us to still account for the ordinary practice of saying things like the reason for which the monkey leapt into the tree was that there was a predator approaching, where ‘reason’ has justificatory force here. This explains the monkey’s behavior in terms that engage our rational, reflective capacities. When we think about the circumstances from the monkey’s point of view, we take the approaching predator to be a reason to jump into the tree, in the sense of a consideration that justifies doing this. We talk as though the monkey took this as a justifying consideration as well. But this talk is metaphorical. (The same goes for the transition of thought regarding dominance.)

What might not be metaphorical is talk that attributes an explanatory role to the consideration that the predator is coming. I think that is the case. But then this consideration does not give the monkey a reason in the sense you are after. You claim that reason-givingness involves justification. And explanation of the sort we have here does not justify anything to the monkey. The monkey is not a proper recipient of justifying explanations because the monkey cannot take them up and assess them in the right way. The monkey does not have the relevant capacity for reflection. We do have this capacity, and we also have the capacity to take up the monkey’s perspective from within our own deliberative point of view. And when we do this, the same considerations that explain things about the monkey’s behavior also justify this behavior to us. But the move from explanation to justification requires the capacity for reflection. And I want to insist that if the monkey does not have this capacity, then the monkey cannot be given a reason, where this involves justification. I also want to insist that this does not undermine the propriety of our talking about the monkey having a justification so long as we recognize that our language is in this case metaphorical.

The upshot is this: we can talk of the monkey having a reason for doing something in both a metaphorical and non-metaphorical sense. In the first case, it is metaphorical because we take reasons to be justifying and the monkey cannot receive justifications. In the second case it is not metaphorical because we take reasons to be explanatory and the monkey’s behavior is explained by certain considerations engaging the monkey’s motivational states and issuing in the relevant behavior. (In case you are worried that the two collapse because, say, a good explanation justifies, I should note that I don’t think the monkey is given an explanation of his behavior here, and for similar reasons—the monkey does not have the requisite capacities to receive this sort of explanation. So I suppose I would still take issue with the (perhaps weaker) claim that the monkey receives a reason, where this involves the monkey receiving an explanation. The sense in which I think the monkey receives a reason is that he is made aware of a consideration that engages his motivational states and issues in the relevant behavior. This reason both explains and justifies his behavior, but the explanation and justification are given to us, not to the monkey.)

One last point. You are right that we may be incorrect about why the monkey leapt into the tree. Perhaps it missed the predator but saw some food in the tree. So we might mistakenly attribute mental states to the monkey, and our ordinary linguistic practices are sensitive to this. But I don’t see how this bears on the issue of whether or not our talking as if the monkey gains a justification is metaphorical or not. If we misattribute a mental state to the monkey, this impugns both the claim that the relevant consideration is justifying and the claim that it is explanatory. If there is no representation of a predator to justify the leap into the tree, then there is equally no representation of a predator to engage the motivational states of the monkey. I don’t see a special problem for my view here.

On Reasons and Animals: My Reply to Ben

Special thanks to Ben for his thoughtful feedback on my previous post (see comments). I concede that our ordinary linguistic practice often includes the metaphorical attribution of agency. But of course, that does not mean that such attributions are always metaphorical. For example, no one worth taking seriously (at least for the purposes of the present discussion) would say it is metaphorical in the case of fully competent human beings. So the question is, on which side of the divide does our agency-attributions to animals fall? Is it like our agency-attribution to inanimate objects, or is it more like our attributions to human beings?

Now there are clearly numerous respects in which animals are more like human beings than they are like inanimate objects. Hurley’s monkey, for example, has a heart, brain and haemoglobin bearing blood cells; as do we. But these points of similarity are not salient to the question at hand. Thus, in this post, my task will not be merely to show that animals are more like humans than they are like inanimate objects. That’s a given. Rather, it will be to show that they are similar to humans in ways that are salient to the question of agency. Consequently, when assessing my claims, one cannot simply ask if they are true; one must ask if they’re relevantly true. This is the question I wish to take up.

One striking difference between animals and inanimate objects is that the former are ordinarily assumed to possess motivational states while the latter are not. Moreover, the claim that animals possess motivational states is meant to be taken literally. This is a point made quite emphatically by Mary Midgley:

There is nothing anthropomorphic in speaking of the motivation of animals. It is anthropomorphic to call the lion the King of Beasts, but not to talk of him as moved, now by fear, now by curiosity, now by territorial anger. These are not the names of hypothetical inner states, but of major patterns in anyone’s life, the signs of which are regular and visible. Anyone who has to deal with lions learns to read such signs, and survives by doing so. Both with animals and with men, we respond to the feelings and intentions we read in an action, not to the action itself. (Midgley (1978), Beast and Man., pp. 105-6.)

I believe that the difference between animals and inanimate objects highlighted by Midgley is salient to the question of agency. In the knife case, the focus is on the event (the cutting of the hand). But in the animal case, the focus is on the animal’s inner (read: psychological) states. If one sees a lion walking towards you, it is important to be able to distinguish between whether it is being motivated by a desire to eat you or a desire to reunite with its pride that is gathered under a tree fifty feet behind you. Our folk psychology is what provides us with the tools we need to interpret the lion’s actions. But notice, we are not simply paying attention to the bodily movements of the lion, but also to the inner psychological states (e.g., the lion’s intentions), which we hope to opine by observing the bodily movements. Our concern is primarily with the lion’s psychological states since they will determine what the lion will do next. Moreover, while we may attempt to put ourselves in the lion’s shoes in order to help us opine what its intentions are, we nevertheless assume that these psychological states are real and that they belong to the lion.

The preceding claims are supported by a key assumption of any folk-psychological attempt to make sense of animal behaviour—namely, that when we attribute motives and intentions to animals, we may get things wrong. For example, we assume that it is possible for us to mistakenly conclude that the lion intends to reunite with its pride when it actually has its sights set on us; and this assumption entails that the lion’s inner states exist quite independently of our beliefs about them; that they are not simply hypothetical states we attribute to the lion. This does not seem to be true of inanimate objects, which occupy a very different place in our folk psychology. We do not, for example, think we can be mistaken about the motivations of an inanimate object. There is simply nothing to be mistaken about. I believe this difference suggests that while the motivations we attribute to inanimate objects are metaphorical, the same is not true in the case of animals. When we attribute a motive to an animal we typically take ourselves to be attributing something objectively real, something we may possibly be mistaken about.

I believe the above observations may reveal a difficulty with Ben’s alternative proposal. He writes:

We attribute rational agency to non-rational animals (and even inanimate objects) because we think about the relevant behavior/events (in these, but not necessarily all cases) by adopting the animal's (or object's) perspective from within our own first-personal point of view.

The problem with this proposal is that it overlooks what we ordinarily take to be an important difference between animals and inanimate objects. In the case of inanimate objects, like a knife, there is simply no perspective to adopt. The knife does not enjoy any representational states; it does not see, taste our experience the world in any way. It does not have desires, wants, or appetites. This is why talk of adopting a knife’s perspective can only be metaphorical. But animals, like Hurley’s monkey, are ordinarily assumed to have a perspective in the most literal sense imaginable. They enjoy representations of the world, and are plausibly assumed to be motivated by desires and appetites, and so on.

I hold that having motivational psychological states and being moved to act by them is sufficient for agency. Since the term agent, at least as it features in philosophical discussions, is a term of art, this definition may be seen as stipulative. Given the account of agency I favour (and one is of course free to suggest a better philosophical account), it follows from the conclusion of the preceding paragraph that animals may be agents (in a non-metaphorical sense). But terminological issues aside, the claim I actually set out to defend in my previous post has little to do with whether or not animals are agents and more to do with the concept of a reason and with what it means to be responsive to reasons. My contention is that there is an ordinary usage of the word ‘reasons’ that is consistent with the claim that animals may be responsive to reasons, and it is this usage of the word that I wish to subject to philosophical analysis.

In attempting to identify the ordinary usage of the word ‘reason’ that I have in mind, it may be helpful to distinguish between reasons-for-which an agent acts and the reasons-with-which an agent acts. The latter refers to considerations that an agent takes to be a justification for her carrying out a certain action. By contrast, let us say that the former refers to whatever motivates an agent to act. (Note: I may not be drawing this distinction in the same way others have.) When we specify the reasons-for-which an agent acts, there are typically two forms that our explanations take: We may say that a lion is walking towards me in order to devour me (an mode of explanation that emphasises the lion’s goals; think pull rather than push), or we may say the lion is walking towards me because it wants to devour me (a mode of explanation that cites specific desires that the lion possesses; think push rather than pull).

I believe that there is an ordinary and intuitive use of the word ‘reason’ according to which the following is true: to say that the lion approached the man because it desired to devour him is to give the lion’s reason for approaching the man. Likewise, to say that the lion approached the man in order to devour him is, again, to give the reason the lion approached the man. It is this usage of the word ‘reason’ that I am interested in preserving: reasons as reasons-for-which. I do not claim that it is the only usage of the word; I do not even claim that it is the only usage of the word that has a legitimate claim to being part of our ordinary linguistic practice. There may be multiple ordinary usages (i.e., meanings) of a single word. I only claim that it is a legitimate part of our ordinary linguistic practice (rather than my personal concoction), and it also happens to be a part of our ordinary linguistic practice that I wish my account of reasons and agency to preserve.