Why POC’s blame is epistemically marginalized


My last post was on why women’s blame means less than men’s in conditions of epistemic injustice. By ‘means less’ I mean is less intelligible, speakable, and amenable to uptake, compared to men’s blame. The reason is that epistemic injustice toward women, or ‘epistemic gender bias,’ silences and suppresses women’s speech, and, since blame is a speech act, epistemic gender bias silences and suppresses women’s blame. I examined three speech contexts in which, and through which, women’s blame is silenced: (1) western erotica, (2) western literary fiction, and (3) western humour. Women are epistemically marginalized, and correspondingly underrepresented, in those contexts.

In this post, I add an intersectional dimension to this analysis by examining how race and gender are co-constructed by the dominant frame of reference of white masculinity. The social construction of racialized sexualities and gender identities positions racialized masculinities and femininities as ‘other’ relative to white masculinity, and this negating representation results in social marginalizations, particularly lack of visibility in historically white-masculine spaces. That is, because POC are eroticized as ‘other,’ they are marginalized in mainstream culture. Analogous to my last post, I examine three contexts in which, and through which, racialized minorities are marginalized: (1) western erotica, (2) western literary fiction, and (3) western humour. I find that all three contexts represent People of Color (POC) as racialized in problematic ways, and all three contexts therefore promote epistemic injustice against POC – namely, ‘racial epistemic bias.’

In the remainder of this post, I analyze (1) the racialization of gender through the erotic lens of white masculinity, and the lingering socioeconomic effects of that lens, (2) the marginalization of racialized minorities in literary fiction, where Authors of Color and non-white narratives are underrepresented, and (3) the marginalization of racialized minorities in western comedy, which tends to erase POC, or exploit racial stereotypes for comedic effect. I argue that white masculinity is still the dominant frame of reference, but is quickly losing ground to anti-racist perspectives, narratives, and comedic norms. Insofar as white masculinity is still the dominant point of view, POC’s blame is marginalized in these contexts, but there is evidence that the normative landscape is shifting.

2. Western erotica

In my last post, I argued that women are sexually objectified by ‘the male gaze’ (i.e., the heteronormative, masculine perspective promoted by mainstream pornography), and this erotic paradigm discredits women as speakers and knowers, including as people who speak reputably and know things about blame, its nature, and its norms. The eroticization of women as emblematic objects of male sexual desire – and thus paradigmatically infantile, submissive, and irrational – undermines women’s epistemic standing, particularly in stereotypically male contexts, including the literary canon and comedy. Since women’s blame is expressed, or expressible, in their literary and comedic products, women’s blame is epistemically marginalized along these dimension.

Here, I will argue that similar considerations apply to POC, who are not eroticized in a uniform way, but are eroticized in a series of problematic ways by the white-male gaze. Specifically, racialized gender identities tend to be stereotyped as either hyper-feminine and childish, or aggressive and unruly, or both. This binary logic creates epistemic double-binds and contradictions that cast POC as not-credible in one way or another, precluding the possibility of epistemic authority. I’ll look at four categories – Asian femininity, Asian masculinity, Black femininity, and Black femininity – and argue that all fall under a racialized erotic lens that undermines the epistemic standing of the target group.

Asian women, as I mentioned in my last post, are the most ‘sexually desired’ by all men (except Asians) according to surveys (NPR Staff 2013), but they are, by the same token, the most eroticized by Western popular culture, which ‘fetishizes’ them as “dually exotic and subservient creatures able to please men in special ways” (Chang 2006). This racial stereotype emerged during the Vietnam, Korean, and World wars of the 20th Century, during which American soldiers routinely has sex with, and raped, Asian sex workers and sex slaves.* After WWII, Congress passed the War Bride Act, which allowed American servicemen to bring Asian wives home – women who “symbolized the winning of the war; they were war prizes” (Chang 2006). At the same time, American culture was “saturated with impressions of Japanese women as excellent homemakers with ‘wifely virtues and male-pleasing attributes’—not so different from the geisha as they both represent the same image of an ‘Oriental Woman who exists to please men'” (Uchida, 1998, p. 166; cited in Chang 2006). American servicemen thus exported a misogynistic ideal of the geisha, and infused it with a racial logic that further dehumanized Asian women.

These racial sexual icons eventually entered into American mainstream pornography, in which, as of 2017, ‘Hentai’ and ‘Japanese’ are the 2nd and 8th most searched-for terms on pornhub.com (PH 2017). Hentai, which is Japanese animated pornography, is described by feminist blogger David Occhart as extremely sexist, full of rape scenes, and, “even when the sex is consensual…, [involving] a constant a sense of shame and embarrassment… the girls are frequently seen frowning—often with tears collecting at the corners of their eyes” (2015). Because the characters are animated, there are fewer constraints on sexual violence, and more opportunities for enacting misogynistic rape fantasies, including child rape (Rpiley & Whiteman 2014). Commenting on popular culture, Chang says that Asian women are still stereotyped as “exotic and submissive or treacherous and lustful,” and “it is ‘as if the century of life experiences of Asian women in the United States has had little impact'” (citing Uchida, 1998, p. 167; 2015). The submissive-treacherous dichotomy creates an epistemic double-bind for Asian women, since being submissive and being treacherous are both incompatible with being a credible speaker.

Notably, Audrea Lim (2018) speculates that the extreme sexual objectification of Asian women may explain why members of the “alt-right” often accept, and even date, Asian women: if Asian women are framed as objects of men’s racialized sexual desires, they can ‘belong’ to a white supremacy group, but not as people –  as sexual play-things for white men. That is, white supremacist don’t see Asian women as peers – on the contrary, they objectify them to the extent that they no longer see them as persons. Audrea Lim says that the ‘alt-right”s acceptance of Asian women rests on a combination of two mutually-reinforcing stereotypes: the ‘model-minority’ and the ‘submissive hyper-sexual,’ the first of which “deludes white men into seeing a retrograde feminine virtue in Asian women, which at the same time cajoles Asian women into living up to that stereotype as though it were flattery” (Alive 2018). The ‘model minority’ stereotype, then, depicts Asian women as too submissive to resist the subjugating gaze of white masculinity, and this positions them as non-threatening from the standpoint of White Supremacy.

By a similar racist logic, Asian men are rated as the ‘least sexually preferred’ by women in surveys. This is the flip-side of the hyper-sexualization of Asian women, which precipitated the de-sexualizing of Asian men, who were perceived as white servicemen’s competition for sexual access to, and possession of, Asian women. In the post-war era, popular culture continued to associate white men with prototypical masculinity and Asian men with prototypical femininity, and these associations were codified in American law. As Michael Park notes, 20th-Century “immigration practices and laws… barred citizenship to Asian men, and in effect designated[ed] them as ‘other’ and emblematically ‘non-male'” (2013: 6). This included barring Asian immigrants from marrying, effectively preventing them from having families or procreating under the law, and barring Asian Americans from pursuing stereotypically male jobs, forcing them into ‘feminized’ contract occupations, such as “cook, waiter, tailor, and laundryman” (Park 2013: 11). To diffuse what policy-makers regarded as “threats to white racial purity” (Park 2013: 10), Asian American men were ’emasculated’ by social policy and classified along with women as second-class citizens – a species of ‘second sex.’

These stereotypical associations persist to this day, as evidenced in the results of machine-learning algorithms showing that the adjectives most associated with Asians in the 1910s were “barbaric,” “monstrous,” and “cruel,” but the current top adjectives are “inhibited,” “passive” and “sensitive” – an improvement, but evidence of the lingering cultural associations between Asian Americans and prototypical femininity (Shashkevich 2018).

These adjectival associations reflect the now-dominant paradigm of the ‘model minority’ – a stereotype that is, on reflection, simply a re-fashioning of the classic motif of passive, femininized ‘Orientalism’, albeit presented under the false guise of a compliment. (For example, the  stereotype of Asians being “good at math” is a racist slur, disguised as a gesture of respect). The ‘model-minority’ stereotype relies on the cultural paradigm of Asians as passive, compliant, and apolitical – indeed, as “the symbolic antithesis of militant Civil Rights activists and feminist groups,” who are depicted as, in a sense, grotesquely masculine (Kim & Chung 2005) Asian Americans are still racialized, but they are seen as a less threatening racial minority than Hispanic and Black Americans, who are effectively criminalized in the collective consciousness. This contrast between ‘model minorities’ and ‘criminal minorities’ fuels the military-industrial complex and protects the hegemony of white masculinity – the only erotic identity that is neither racialized nor femininized. As Gina Marchetti observes, popular culture “uses” Asian Americans “as signifiers of racial otherness to avoid the far more immediate racial tensions between blacks and whites or the ambivalent mixture of guilt and enduring hatred toward Native American and Hispanics”; the ‘model minority’ paradigm provides a contrast to the “images of violent and vociferous African Americans and feminists” (1993: 6). These associations serve to protect the cultural and epistemic hegemony of white masculinity.

African American women are the ‘least sexually preferred’ by men according to surveys. Like Asian sex-trafficking victims, enslaved African American women (and men) were systemically raped by white men, producing a ‘white sexual gaze’ that construed Black women as both financial resources and objects of colonialist rape fantasies. Black women were not hyper-feminized in the way that Asian women were because, as Naomi Zack notes (1999), the genealogy of Black femininity is sui genesis. Zack argues that colonialists were driven primarily by monetary incentives to rape and ‘breed’ Black women for profit, while African American men were seen as equivalent to male workhorses, with an ‘inconvenient,’ ‘unruly,’ and non-monetizable sexuality (1999). These frameworks linger in the current popular eroticization of Black women as “Jezebels,” “lascivious by nature,” “innately promiscuous, even predatory” (Pilgrim 2012) – a cultural script that exonerates the colonialist raping of Black women, and preserves the constructed innocence of ‘boyish’ white masculinity. Black women are also objectified under the cultural schemas of the “Angry Black Woman” and the “Welfare Mother” (ibid). (Green 2017) – negative scripts that, again, sanitize America’s legacy of racial segregation, slavery, and institutionalized rape. These racist sexual constructs grew out of America’s colonialist history, but they persist as mechanisms for sanitizing white masculinity and justifying white men’s sexual conceit. If Black women are hyper-sexual but morally worthless, then they are supremely fuckable, as they can be used as a convenient sexual resource without regard to their moral standing. The fact that Black women are seen as ‘not sexually desirable’ does not entail that they are ‘not fuckable’: ‘sexual desirability’ entails more than regarding someone as a sex toy. In America, African American women experience sexual violence at a rate 35% higher than that of white females, and 2.5 times the rate of other races, and have less access to social resources (WCN 2006) – statistics that reveal the lack of regard for Black women’s moral agency.

African American men are less ‘sexually preferred’ than white men in surveys, again, because of the entanglement of racism and sexism in the cultural erotic imagination. Like Black women, enslaved Black men were systematically raped by white colonialists, although this is less widely recognized (Curry 2018). Tom Curry examines the construction of African American masculinity in Americawhich he identifies as a paradoxical mix of childish innocence and violent barbarism. Specifically, Black men are stereotyped, on the one hand, as “childish and immature” (2018: 9) – a cultural schema reinforced by the systemic rape and enslavement of African American men – and on the other hand, as sexually aggressive, lascivious, and susceptible to “abominable lust” (2018: 9) – a cultural schema created under colonialism to protect white men’s sexual access to, and possession of, white women. This stereotype of Black masculinity is famously portrayed in the American classic, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” in which a Black man is falsely accused of raping a white woman – a lie that everyone believes because the American mythologization of the Black male rapist has been so deeply ingrained. The irony is that white men blamed Black men for an offense that they themselves not only committed more than anyone else, but legalized as an exclusive right under colonialism (which allowed them to legally rape their white wives and POC). To preserve this position of sexual dominance, ethnologists, anthropologists, and biologists constructed an impossible “bogeyman” of Black masculinity, envisioned as infantile-and-predatory, feminine-and-aggressive, innocent-and-criminal – a chimera that erased the very possibility of an intelligible cultural identity for Black men (Curry 2018). This binary construct persists to this day, and explains the dual feminization and criminalization of Black men – reflected, e.g., in the fact that they earn less than white women (Patten 2017), but are incarcerated for 19% longer than white men for the same crimes (Pryor et al. 2017).

These intersections of racism and eroticism in the popular imagination results in a complex ‘othering’ of POC, engendering specific social and epistemic marginalizations. In my last post, I drew on Rebecca Solnit’s work in feminist sociology to show how women as a group are silenced by pornographic representations of women as sexual objects as opposed to agents in their own right. The present analysis allows us to make finer-grained discriminations amongst differently-racialized femininities and masculinities. According to this analysis, Asian women are hyper-sexualized in the cultural consciousness, represented as emblematically infantile, passive, compliant, and easily assailable into the logic of white masculinity and white supremacy. Asian men are depicted as stereotypically feminine, but also male, positioning them as non-threatening but also non-gendered, or perhaps gender-nonconforming, according to the dominant racial lens. Black women are eroticized under dehumanizing schemas that justify colonialism, racial segregation, and sexual violence against them. Black men, finally, are placed in the paradoxical category of the ‘child-rapist,’ a category that precludes the very possibility of a coherent cultural identity. All of these stereotypes, which enmesh race and sexuality in complex web of negative, eroticized gender prototypes, effectively erase the subjectivities of members of these racialized groups. Rather than seeing these group-members as individuals, popular culture imagines them as static tropes, constructed as absences (not-white-men) through the dominant lens of white masculinity – that is, the irreducible subject whose hegemonic frame of reference racializes all other gender categories.

Because racialized minorities are eroticized in these problematic ways, they are less likely to be represented as individuals with epistemic authority – as authors, narrators, main characters, etc. – in popular culture. And indeed, POC are underrepresented in across many dimensions of popular culture, with one salient example being the entertainment industry. I will briefly outline epistemic marginalizations in that industry here.

To begin, women, African Americans, and Asian Americans are underrepresented in Hollywood films. In a sample of 414 stories, “half the films and TV shows… had no Asian speaking characters, and more than one-fifth… had no black characters with dialogue,” while “just one-third of characters with speaking roles were women” (Deggan 2016; Smith et al 2016). Researchers concluded that “the film industry still functions as a straight, White, boy’s club” (ibid.). Films with POC in the roles of director, writer and producer are more diverse (ibid.), but these positions are overwhelming occupied by white men. POC are underrepresented amongst film directors, film writers, show creators, studio executives, studio managers, and studio unit heads, and the situation is hardly improving: “the numbers of women and minorities represented in entertainment productions haven’t budged in 10 years” (Austin 2016; Smith et al. 2017).

The television and film industries are, of course, major producers of dominant cultural narratives. These industries produce stories that are consumed by millions of people, and these stories express blame and praise. When POC are underrepresented amongst all ranks in the entertainment industry, their speech is epistemically marginalized in these contexts, which entails that their blame, as a speech act, is epistemically marginalized.

In modern TV and cinema, there are salient examples of counter-cultural blaming narratives, including such productions as Black Panther, which critiques American colonialism through an Afro-futuristic lens; Dear White People, which ridicules perennial racist practices, like going to a party in Black Face; and Key and Peele, which similarly critiques cultural racism (more on which later). These screen productions invert the racist logic of the ‘golden age of Hollywood,’ which glamorized slavery (e.g., Gone with the Wind), depicted POC as racial stereotypes (e.g., I. Y. Yonoshi from Breakfast at Tiffany’s), or, more often than not, erased POC and normalized racism. More recent screen products perpetrate historical racisms, by, for example, appropriating African American narratives (e.g., Friends is allegedly a sad re-make of Living Single (Blay 2017), casting white people as POC (e.g., Ghost in the Shell, The Outsider, The Prince of Persia), and segregating white people from POC as if they inhabited different worlds, or as if racial segregation were natural and inevitable (e.g., A Different World alongside Beverly Hills 90210, Full House alongside Family Matters). These filmic conventions suppress, silence, or white-wash the normative insights and blaming expressions of POC. It is only in recent years that anti-racist screen productions have begun to gain cultural momentum and epistemic capital, but these products are still liminal compared to the white-male frame of reference, which depicts POC as tokens, tropes, and supporting characters.

When POC are depicted in film and TV as racial stereotype, or as supporting characters at the periphery of the white-male experience, they are subjected to epistemic injustice, because their perspectives are suppressed and silenced. Epistemic injustice involves not only the discrediting of a person’s testimony (i.e., testimonial injustice’), but also the unfair distribution of opportunities to speak, which Fricker calls ‘pre-emptive testimonial injustice’ – a type of injustice that fails to provide opportunities to speak (viz., Hazlett 2017). POC are subject to both types of epistemic injustice in the entertainment industry, as they are represented as negative archetypes that are inherently discrediting (‘laundryman,’ ‘Jezebel,’ ‘rapist’), and, partly because of this, their speech is pre-empted. Because their speech is epistemically marginalized in these ways, their blame is, too.

  2. The Western Literary Canon

The racial-sexual erotic stereotypes that epistemically marginalize POC have implications not only for film and TV, but also for the western literary canon, which is predominantly white and male. Since literature is a vehicle for people’s speech, it is a vehicle for people’s blame, which is therefore marginalized in literary fiction.

While demographic numbers are changing, most of us grew up with an overwhelmingly white, male literary canon. Today, literary fiction still isn’t keeping up with demographic trends: “of children’s books published in 2013, only 10.5 percent featured a person of color,” whereas half of all school-aged children are non-white (Black 2018); “in 2016, this number doubled to 22 percent, but white is still the ‘default identity'”; in New York City’s public school system, only 14.9% of students are white, but almost half the books in the district’s curriculum feature white characters (ibid.)

In addition, the top-5 ranked titles at college English departments in America are all by white authors and feature white characters (Osborn 2016). In 2012, 88% of authors reviewed by the New York Times were white males (Hess 2012), and in 2013, only two out of 23 authors featured in the Paris Review’s interviews of top authors of the decade were Authors of Color (Berry 2013). Because literary criticism signals respect for the author under review, and also increases book sales, the underrepresentation of Authors of Color in critical reviews reflects a lack of respect for their authorial credibility, and results in a lack of financial investment in their literary projects (a ‘secondary harm’ of epistemic injustice).

These epistemic marginalizations could also have effects on our moral attitudes. In my last post, I discussed Rebecca Solnit’s claim that the underrepresentation of women in literary fiction primes us to empathize more with men than women, producing a gender empathy gap. I pointed out that this theory is consistent with research on intergroup empathy bias, which finds that, in conditions of competition, empathy enhances hostility toward perceived out-group members, including women. It would be an overgeneralization to say that women are completely starved of empathy, but we seem to lack empathy for women precisely when the authority of white masculinity is at stake – for example, when women are raped by men, which is the theme of Lolita  – a tragic rape story warped into a ‘compelling romance’ by critics, marketers, and audiences.

The empathy-gap hypothesis is also consistent with evidence that we respond differently to pain in men and women: for example, women are less likely to get CPR from a bystander and more likely to die of cardiac arrest (Brauser 2017); women are less likely to be referred for specialist care for certain conditions, and are subjected to longer wait times for certain conditions (Jaakkimainen et al. 2014);  and, globally, women have higher mortality rates than men for infectious and non-communicable diseases (WEF 2017). This empathy bias is consistent with Solnit’s theory that the overrepresentation of men’s perspectives in literature affects our empathic sensitivity to men and women –  though perhaps, in light of the competition aspect of inter-group empathy bias, this bias is more salient in contexts where white masculinity competes with women’s pain (rape stories), or where men’s and women’s pain compete for costly resources (healthcare).

A similar analysis can be applied to POC, who are also ‘othered’ in the western literary canon. The ‘othering’ of POC is on display, for instance, in the Guardian‘s list of the 100 Greatest Novels of All Time (2015), in which the top five – Don QuixotePilgrim’s ProgressRobinson CrusoeGulliver’s Travels, and Tom Jones – are all written by white men, all center white masculinity as the dominant frame of reference, and, in many cases, include racist caricatures of POC. Don Quixote‘s author Cervantes regularly “mocks [POC] as liars and thieves, portraying them as useless cheapskates who deserve their exile from Spain because they threaten the king’s rule” (SparkNotes; cf. George Mariscal 1999); Pilgrim’s Progress almost completely excludes POC, except for a racist passage in which “Fool” and “Want-wit” wash an Etheopian man “with [the] intention of making him white, but the more they washed him the blacker he was” (1909: S8.357); Robinson Crusoe presents Crusoe’s island-mate Friday in the racist guise of The Noble Savage, a stock character who embodies an exoticized, African ‘other,’ supposedly uncorrupted by ‘modern civilization’; Tom Jones doesn’t include any POC or references to race, but treats slavery as a natural institution; and Gulliver’s Travels, though generally interpreted as a symbolic critique of the slave trade, still uses racist language, and only criticizes slavery (if at all) in a symbolic form, not explicitly (Robinson 2006). This isn’t to write off all of these books as garbage, but it is epistemically significant that they all marginalize POC, and, when they do center on POC, exoticise them and describe them in racist terms. Once you get to the end of this reading list, it might be a good idea to cleanse your palette with some anti-racist narratives, to say the least. Solnit goes farther and suggests that we should eschew some canonized literature completely, as it might be bad for your moral character.

Notably, the empathy gap in our perception of pain also extends to POC, revealing a ‘racial empathy bias.’ For example, nurses assume that Black people feel less pain than white people (Fogiarini et al. 2011); physicians underestimate Black patients’ pain more than white patients’ pain (Staton et al. 2007); and physicians withhold opioids from Hispanic, Black, and Asian patients more than white patients (Forgiarini et al. 2011).  This is consistent with the theory that the hegemony of white masculinity in the literary canon – and other cultural spaces – creates an empathy bias in favour of gender-conforming white men.

That said, the western literary canon is being increasingly diversified. I am currently contributing to an edited volume on Octavia Butler (1993, 1998), an under-appreciated Black women author whose dystopian fiction was more prescient than her peers,’ because it foregrounds race and gender in her post-apocalyptic universes, bringing into relief how democratic collapse and tyranny disproportionally harm historically disenfranchised groups (and often confer advantages on the privileged, contrary to the anxieties of many white authors). Rather than centering white masculinity, Butler foregrounds the narrative perspective of a Black woman, and focuses on how capitalism, sex slavery, and colonialism intersect with racial empathy bias. Butler does not have the same cultural status as authors like Margaret Atwood, Aldous Huxley, and George Orwell, precisely because she is a Black woman and she explicitly addresses the inconvenient truth of racial injustice, but I am optimistic that her work will be re-appraised and popularized in the near future (especially after the success of Black Panther).

3. Western Humour

The stereotypes that silence POC have implications not only for film, TV, and the western literary canon, but also for western humour, which is also predominantly white and male. Much of Western Humour is rooted in the use of racial stereotypes as a form of humour, with prominent examples including Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from The Simpsons, Han from Two Broke Girls, and Buckwheat from The Little Rascals. Other comedies simply erase POC, in spite of being set in some of the most diverse metropolises in the world, prime examples including FriendsSeinfeld, and Sex in the City. Although 3 out of 10 of Netflix’s ten highest-paid comedians of 2017 were Black men, there were no other racial groups and no intersectional identities in the top-ten list (Fritz 2017). While POC have produced some groundbreaking comedies in recent years, many of these productions have been denied funding from major movie studios, including Dear White People, produced by Justin Simien, and The Top 5, produced by Chris Rock (King et al. 2104; Bernstein 2014) (which were financed by crowdfunding). In the Hollywood Reporter’s list of the 30 Most Powerful Film Producers, there were only 2 Asian men, 1 Black man, and zero women (THR Staff 2015). The underrepresentation of POC amongst producers is a factor in the underrepresentation of POC at every other rank in Hollywood.

Recent trends in comedy, however, challenge the racist logic of mainstream comedy – a logic that either trades on racist stereotypes, erases POC entirely, or whitewashes Black narratives. Just as rape jokes (about rape survivors) are being replaced by rapist jokes (about rapists) told by feminist comedians like Amy Schumer, Amy Pohler, and Tina Fey, racist jokes are being replaced by anti-racist jokes (about racists), told by Comedians of Color like Keegan Michael Key, Jordan Peele, Amber Ruffin, Ronny Chieng, and Jessica Williams.

To bring this into relief, I’ll start with Key and Peele’s recent sketch on civil war reenactments. A group of white Civil-War reenactors are playing Confederate soldiers, and Key and Peele’s characters show up uninvited to play Jim Crow racial stereotypes. The person playing the Confederate General defends the group, arguing that the re-enactors aren’t “pro-slavery,” – they’re just trying to “preserve the pure and beautiful slice of southern history” – to which another participants adds the emphasis, “yeah, pure and beautiful slice.” At the end of the clip, the ‘General’ almost says the n-word, accidentally exposing his explicit racism, and the interlopers take this as license to rob him, which is, in my view (and presumably in Key and Peele’s) a piece of delicious retribution, confirming what I argued in an earlier post, viz., that crimes that ‘punch up’ (e.g., disenfranchise racists, effectuate a fairer distribution of wealth) can have prima facie redemptive moral value. (Whether theses crimes are all-things-considered justified depends on the particularities of the case). By showing up as racial stereotypes at the reenactment, Key and Peele’s characters ridicule the facile logic on which Civil-War re-enactments are about appreciating Southern history as opposed to celebrating racism.

Another example is Ronny Chieng’s response to a video featuring Jesse Watters as he interviews residents of China Town, produced for The O’Reilly Factor (before Bill O’Reilly was ousted from Fox in light of evidence that the company had paid multiple sexual harassment settlements on his behalf). Although Chieng’s video contains some problematic content, it features a biting criticism of Watters’ white ignorance, conspicuous in his use of racist iconography, such as clips of Mr. Miyagi from Karate Kid and excerpts of the song ‘Kung Fu Fighting,’ to reduce his interviewees to the one-dimensional racial stereotype of the Kung Fu Hero. Notably, ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ features a melody known as the ‘Oriental Riff,’ which is an American invention dating back to the 19th Century, historically used to depict Asian Americans as Perpetual Foreigners, as seen in this racist Betty Boop episode ‘Making Stars’ (Chow 2014). Chieng ridicules Watters for failing to ask his interviewees if they speak English and depicting them as ignorant. He responds with a counter-video in which he interviews China-Town residents in Chinese, eliciting intelligent responses about American politics. This response-video turns the tables on Watters, revealing the clown to be, not Asian Americans, but Watters himself, who is a buffoonish embodiment of White Ignorance. 

A third example can be found in Amber Ruffin’s send-up of the TV series Roseanne, a 1990s sit-com recently revived as a racist show about a Trump apologist (as Roseanne Barre is in real life). Ruffin begins with a bit of funny-because-true humour, informing the audience that “Roseanne is back and she’s better than ever… at being racist.” She goes on to explain how Roseanne illustrates a pervasive kind of American racism, on which white Americans accept POC if they’re useful to them, but otherwise don’t hesitate to call the police on them and report them for fake crimes. Ruffin proceeds to give real-life examples of this phenomenon, including a woman who calls the police on two Native Americans who she claims “don’t belong there,” to which Ruffin replies, “They’re Native Americans – they’re the only people who do belong there.” These rebuttals are funny because they bring into focus the buffoonishness of White Exceptionalism, the belief that white Americans have special moral status and everyone else has to prove their moral worth.

These comedic portrayals of white privilege are fairly recent in popular culture, which historically relied on the opposite comedic norms – racist caricatures as a source of humour. Because anti-racist humour is being popularized and and recognized as funny by a wider audience, POC’s blame, as expressed in their comedic speech, is receiving more uptake. POC’s comedic blame includes ridiculing, and thus censuring, white privilege. Whereas doing this was previously difficult because white masculinity was held up as a bastion of rationality, dignity, and authority, the popularity of anti-racist humour is chipping away at this false icon and revealing white ignorance as the absurd spectacle that it is. Covert and banal forms of racism are being exposed as ridiculous spectacles of white ignorance, and the absurdity of these racisms are increasingly obvious.

4. Concluding remarks

In my last post, I argued that women’s blame is silenced by epistemic gender bias perpetrated by, and within, mainstream erotica, western literary fiction, and western humour. In this post, I have given this analysis an intersectional dimension by analyzing how gender and race are intertwined in the construction of racialized gender identities (Asian femininity, Black masculinity, etc.), enacted through the dominant erotic standpoint of white masculinity. This standpoint produces epistemic racial bias, which works to marginalize POC in white-dominant spaces, including literary fiction and comedy. Recent trends, however, show that POC are inverting the racist-sexist logic of white masculinity, by producing, marketing, and popularizing their own brands of anti-racist literature and comedy. These speech products contain blame, and therefore provide a vehicle for POC’s blame to be voiced, heard, and integrated into the social imaginary.



*I hesitate to use the colonialist term ‘slave,’ though this is the most recognized term for women forced into sex trafficking. By ‘sex slave’ I mean, more precisely, victims of sex trafficking.



Gaslighting & its effects on the moral community


This post is about gaslighting as a distinctively morally ‘dark’ type of epistemic injustice, which impairs our moral relationships. In section 1, I describe gaslighting as a type of epistemic injusticewith distinct moral features that render it particularly morally pernicious, following Kate Abramson’s illuminating discussion (2014). In section 2, I argue that, because there are two types of epistemic injustice – testimonial and hermeneutical – there should also be two corresponding types of gaslighting. I say that, while paradigmatic cases of gaslighting are instances of testimonial injustice, some cases of gaslighting are examples of what Alyssa Cirne calls “willful hermeneutical marginalization” (2012: 46), a type of epistemic injustice involving the manipulation of hermeneutical resources to harm a vulnerable person or group. In section 3, I argue that the suppression of pertinent knowledge, as described by Charles Mills (2007), is an undertheorized type of “hermeneutical gaslighting,” though this type of gaslighting is increasingly visible in public discourse. In section 4, I give a prominent example of hermeneutical gaslighting – namely, Sam Harris’ interview with Charles Murray (“Forbidden Knowledge”)on the putative connections between IQ, “race,” and genes, and I explain why this interview is a case of hermeneutical gaslighting. In section 5, I argue that cases of hermeneutical gaslighting via the suppression of knowledge tend to involve or invoke just world bias, and I give some examples from professional philosophy. Finally, in section 6, I argue that gaslighting perpetrates distinct moral and epistemic harms; specifically, it undermines the epistemic and moral standing of its victims and creates epistemic and moral inequality.

  1. Gaslighting as a distinct moral violation

Gaslighting is commonly understood as the act of psychologically manipulating someone into questioning her own sanity. Kate Abramson gives this definition more substance by characterizing it as “a form of emotional manipulation in which the gaslighter tries (consciously or not) to induce in someone the sense that her reactions, perceptions, memories, and/or beliefs are not just mistaken, but utterly without grounds – paradigmatically, so unfounded as to quality as crazy” (2014: 2). Gaslighting, then, has a pathologizing effect. The gaslighter can have any number of subjective motives; not all gaslighters have the same motivational profile, or even substantively overlapping motivational profiles, except that they all wish, on some level, to have their worldview validated and “placed beyond dispute” (Abramson 2014: 10). The act of gaslighting nonetheless has certain paradigmatic features, including that (1) it undermines the victim’s standing to make moral claims, and thereby excludes the victim from the moral community (viz., Darwall 2002, Strawson 1963); (2) it undermines the victim’s self-conception as a person, i.e., someone capable of making intelligible moral and epistemic claims; and (3) it involves manipulation. Gaslighting, seen in this light, is a type of epistemic injustice, or an act of epistemic marginalization rooted in identity prejudice (Fricker 2007). But gaslighting is not just an ordinary type of epistemic injustice; it is especially morally heinous, or ‘dark,’ because it involves a number of overlapping violations, including: (i) it is manipulative, (ii) it involves a lack of recognition respect, (iii) it silences and pathologizes the victim, and (iv) it is a type or torture.

Gaslighting is particularly heinous because it doesn’t just involve a depreciatedcredibility rating of the victim’s speech; it involves a credibility rating of zero. The victim is depicted as “crazy,” “irrational,” and incapable of understanding the world and her place in it. Galighting is also a type of torturebecause it deceives the victim into thinking that there is something she could do to gain credibility in the eyes of the gaslighter, which is a false hope; and it destroys the victim’s sense of self – it persuades her that she is not even a minimally rational agent. False hope and loss of agency are characteristic features of classic torture, and also of gaslighting. Gaslighting involves a lack of recognition respectbecause it depicts the victim as an outsider to the moral community, a ‘moral refugee,’ as it were. From this epistemic position, the agent cannot make intelligible claims to be treated with respect, and she cannot negotiate effectively with members of the community. Because gaslighting has all of these features, it is a “horrifying puzzle” of injustice, a distinctively ‘dark’ moral violation (Abramson 2014: 18). Interestingly, gaslighting cannot simply be seen as a straightforward violation of the categorical imperative, because it’s worse than ordinary cases of objectification, too; it doesn’t justundermine a person’s agency; it usesthe person’s agency to undermine her own sense of self, and this is an especially egregious form of abuse (Abramson 2014). The agent herself is co-opted into doubting her own epistemic authority as well as contributing to the maintenance of the gaslighter’s narcissistic worldview.

Abramson adds that gaslighting has a distinctively genderedcharacter, given that paradigmatic cases of gaslighting involve a man-identified perpetrator and a woman-identified victim. Thus, gaslighting typically serves to entrench misogynistic cultural norms, on top of silencing individual women. This was the relational dynamic depicted in the original play by Patrick Hamilton(1938), in which the protagonist Paula was relentlessly gaslighted by her husband Gregory. This abusive relationship provides the frame through which we tend to interpret gaslighting. However, Abramson notes that gaslighting is not always so explicit, and can encompass a variety of motives and relational dynamics. Nonetheless, Abramson focuses on dyadicrelationships involving a gaslighter and a victim. To illustrate the paradigm case, she cites familiar examples of quid pro quo sexual harassment and racial discrimination, and includes Beauvoir’s (in)famous relationship with Sartre, in which Sartre manipulated her over many years into believing that her “opinions were based only on prejudice, bad faith, or thoughtlessness,” leaving her wondering whether she was capable of “think[ing] at all” (Beauvoir 2007, cited in Abramson 2014: 4). Beauvoir was essentially gaslighted into doubting her epistemic agency.

While gaslighting is stereotypically gendered, it is a type of epistemic injustice that can target members of anyepistemically marginalized group (or the group as a whole, I shall argue). Thus, gaslighting can be used against not only women, but People of Color, members of the LGBTQIA community, and virtually any other marginalized social group. As epistemic injustice, it relies on identity prejudice to gain purchase. Gaslighting exploits cultural stereotypes to silence members of marginalized groups, to withhold knowledge from members of marginalized groups, and to suppress pertinent knowledge about the lived experiences of marginalized groups – or so I shall argue.

  1. Gaslighting as epistemic injustice

Abramson focuses on dyadic, intimate cases of gaslighting, and these are indeed the paradigms supported by Hamilton’s play and popular culture. Construed as types of epistemic injustice, these are tokens of what Miranda Fricker calls “testimonial injustice,” in which a hearer gives a speaker a “deflated level of credibility” due to identity prejudice, i.e., bias triggered by the perception of a person’s demographic attributes (Fricker 2007: 1). While these cases of testimonial injustice are especially morally pernicious because of the distinctive features of gaslighting (e.g., pathologizing effects, torture), they are still essentially instances of epistemic injustice. Abramson mentions that testimonial injustice can contribute to a second type of epistemic injustice: “hermeneutical injustice,” which Miranda Fricker describes as a “gap in collective interpretive resources that puts someone at un unfair disadvantage when it comes to making sense of their social experience” (2007: 1); but, beyond this, Abramson doesn’t elaborate on the relationship between the two types of injustice. Fricker herself says that hermeneutical injustice occurs at a “prior stage” to testimonial injustice (ibid.), meaning that it creates fertile ground for testimonial injustice, normalizing and naturalizing prejudiced credibility assessments. In fact, it might be more accurate to see the two types of injustice as mutually implicated in a positive feedback loop, wherein testimonial injustice produces deficits in hermeneutical resources and hermeneutical deficits cause testimonial injustice, which again produces deficits in hermeneutical injustice, and so on. This process can be seen in Sartre’s treatment of Beauvoir: he exploited gaps in the hermeneutical resources pertaining to women’s credibility to perpetrate testimonial injustice on Beauvoir, which in turn reinforced the very hermeneutical gaps he was using against her – cultural ignorance about women’s epistemic authority. As a result, Beauvoir quit philosophy and we lost invaluable epistemic resources within the field and popular culture (Fricker 2007). Hermeneutical deficits are not free-standing cultural facts; rather, they are instantiated in people’s cognitive architecture, in the form of implicit biases, heuristics, and other psychological states (Scorberg 2007). The mental states that give rise to a backdrop of hermeneutical injustice also cause distinct acts of testimonial injustice perpetrated by individual agents.

That said, the distinction between the two types of epistemic injustice is not insignificant. One of the key asymmetries between the two, according to Fricker, is that people perpetratetestimonial injustice whereas “no agent perpetrates hermeneutical injustice – it is a purely structural notion” (2007: 159). “Moments of heremeneutical injustice,” she says, are caused by the epistemic conditions of the time (ibid.). Therefore, perpetuators and victims of testimonial injustice are both victimsof the same climate of hermeneutical injustice that they mutually inhabit; people who epistemically marginalize members of oppressed groups are also often victims of “epistemic bad luck” (2007: 151). Alyssa Cirne argues that this picture is flawed because it omits an important type of hermeneutical injustice, “willful hermeneutical marginalization,” in which an agent “obstructs or withholds hermeneutical tools from those agents who need those tools the most,” for purposes of self-aggrandizement and self-conceit (2012: 45). This subspecies of hermeneutical injustice allows us to realize the “agency and culpability” in such scenarios, and to identifyperpetratorsof hermeneutical injustice (ibid.). Hermeneutical injustice, then, is not simply a set of background conditions, but the cumulative effect of people’s willful choices.

Notably, although Cirne describes acts of hermeneutical injustice as “willful,” this doesn’t entail that they are intentional harms. Social epistemologists generally accept that epistemically marignalization can be unintentional, as they can operate through implicit states such as implicit biases and heuristics, as noted above (see also Peels & Blaauw 2016). Acts of epistemic marginalization are nonetheless ‘willful’ in that they are motivated by a vested interest in unfair asymmetries of power, and, as such, they express the agent’s ‘will’ or value system or deep self. ‘White ignorance,’ for instance, is not caused by intentional racism – if it were, it would not be a case ofignorance; but white ignorance is always motivated by a personal stake in relations of power that favour white people (Mills 2015). White ignorance reflects the ignorant person’s deep self.

While Cirne focuses on the willful withholdingof valuable epistemic resources from a victim of epistemic injustice, I think that willful epistemic marginalization could extend further, to the willful suppressionof epistemic resources, which doesn’t necessarily involve the epistemic marginalization of any individual directly, but rather involves the marginalization of an entire social group. Mills provides a good example; he observes that white ignorance is sometimes manifested in the pervasive cultural myth that, “after the abolition of slavery in the United States, blacks generally had opportunities equal to whites,” and he attributes this myth to the “suppression of pertinent knowledge.” (2007: 21). Following Cirne’s analysis, the “suppression of pertinent knowledge,” like the withholding of epistemic resources, can’t be seen as an inert historical fact, but must be recognized as a result of human agency– something perpetrated by people. This suggests that speech acts that suppress pertinent knowledge could potentially count as instances of willful epistemic marginalization, even if the speaker doesn’t withholdknowledge from anyparticular victim. Instead, they suppress cultural knowledge about a social group’s shared experiences, thereby rupturing, or “poking holes” in, the heremeneutical resources of the community, making it difficult for the target group to accurately frame and express their shared experience of oppression. Speech acts that suppress knowledge in this way may be instances of willful hermeneutical marginalization, acts that epistemically marginalize an entire social group.

Testimonial injustice and willful hermeneutical marginalization tend to go together, but they are nonetheless conceptually distinct. Someone who denies the harmful effects of slavery on the life prospects of African Americans is likely toalsodiscredit the speech of African Americans to their faces (because this person harbors racial bias), but the person commits twodistinct actsof epistemic injustice, one hermeneutical and one testimonial. These types can be differentiated in practice.

  1. Testimonial and hermeneutical gaslighting

Now, if gaslighting is a type of (especially pernicious) epistemic injustice, and there are two types of epistemic injustice, then there should be two corresponding types of gaslighting. Gregory’s dismissal of Paula’s speech as “crazy” is an example of the first type, “testimonial gaslighting”; he gives her speech zero credit. But Gregory also commits willful hermeneutical marginalization by barring Paula’s family from visiting, knowing that her family could debunk her false beliefs about her nil epistemic standing. Thus, Gregory also commits “hermeneutical gaslighting,” the willful withholding of hermeneutical resources to manipulate Paula into subordination and false consciousness about her situation. Gregory thus commits two epistemically distinct types of gaslighting. Both instances of epistemic injustice are also examples of gaslightingbecause they involve manipulation, undermine the victim’s moral standing, assault the victim’s self-conception, and they pathologize, disrespect, and torture the victim.

Is the willful suppression of knowledgealso a type of gaslighting? Paradigm cases of gaslighting involve an intimate relationship between a gaslighter and a gaslighting victim, as opposed to a statement of false belief about a social group (with which the gaslighter may have no contact at all, particularly in a segregated society). Abramsom says that in paradigm cases of gaslighting, the gaslighter uses the promise of love and intimacy to manipulate the victim; he appeals to the victim’s empathy; and he threatens the victim with reprisals for non-compliance (2014: 20). When someone suppresses pertinent knowledge, that person doesn’t necessary rely on intimacy, affection, empathy, or reprisals to manipulate the target group, but the person’s act of epistemic marginalization still has central characteristics of gaslighting, i.e., manipulation, moral disrespect, pathologizing, torture (albeit of a group). The ‘manipulation’ in question here is not the physical manipulation of an individual, but rather, the manipulation of epistemic resourcesso as to render the shared experiences of a marginalized group unintelligible and ostensibly “pathological.”

Another salient difference between the two cases of gaslighting is that testimonial gasighting targets a specific victim, whereas knowledge-suppression targets an entire social group, without directly harming any individual. Hermeneutical gaslighting, in effect, creates fertile epistemic groundfor tokens of testimonial injustice, by infusing the social imaginary with pernicious stereotypes – stereotypes that ‘testimonial gaslighters’ can exploit to effectively discredit and pathologize members of the target group. People who commit willful knowledge-suppression give others ammunitionfor committing testimonial injustice behind a cloak of plausible deniability.

One way of framing this difference is to think of testimonial injustice as akin to quid pro quo sexual harassment, which affects an individual victim, whereas hermeneutical injustice is akin to hostile workplace sexual harassment, which creates a hostile environment for all members of a protected group. If an employer posts sexualized pictures of women in his office, this is an example of hostile workplace sexual harassment because it affects all of the women who enter the office. Similarly, hermeneutical scapegoating creates an epistemically hostile environmentfor a marginalized group. Even if only one person complains, everymember of the group is affected.

This type of scapegoating may not fit the classic paradigm, but it fits with an emerging popular conception of gaslighting, which we see in, for example, claims that Donald Trump is “gaslighting” the American public by lying, distorting the facts, and disparaging the press (Leve 2017).

We also see this type of gaslighting in Angelique M. Davis and Rose Ernst’s theory of “racial gaslighting,” defined as “the political, social, economic and cultural process that perpetuates and normalizes a white supremacist reality through pathologizing those who resist” (2017: 1). This type of gaslighting is not part of an intimate relationship, but is instead part of a complex network of discursive relationships and power structures. Racial gaslighting relies on “racial spectacles,” or “narratives that obfuscate the existence of a white supremacist state power structure” (ibid.), so as to normalize and perpetuate racism. Racial spectacles, in effect, suppress knowledgeabout the shared experiences of racialized minorities. While Davis and Ernst describe racial gaslighting as a sociopolitical process, and while they focus on the historical and sociological foundations of racial gaslighting (similar to Fricker’s analysis of hermeneutical injustice), they nonetheless affirm that people (and groups of people) commit gaslighting – for example, “The U.S. government usedracial spectacles at the macro level to publicly justify its use of concrete state action against those of Japanese ancestry during World War II” (2017: 6). Thus, they do not deny the agency implicated in racial gaslighting; they admit that it can be perpetrated.

We can see Mills’ example of a white person (or people) denying the reality of racial inequality in America as a type of “racial spectacle,” a performance of white ignorance. And I think that we can apply my analysis of that case to racial gaslighting in general. That is, I think it could be useful to frame racial gaslighting as an especially morally pernicious type of willful hermeneutical injustice, i.e., hermeneutical gaslighting. These spectacles gaslight Black people by suppressing knowledge about their lived reality. While these spectacles do not, as Davis and Ernst note, effectively deceiveall, or even most, People of Color, they create an epistemic climatethat pathologizes, stigmatizes, and epistemically marginalizes them, placing them at an epistemic and moral disadvantage. These acts of injustice have the characteristic features of gaslighting: moral disregard, assault to the self, and torture. Racial gaslighting undermines the standing of racialized minorities to make intelligible moral and epistemic claims; forces them to choose between dominant cultural narratives and their authentic experiences; and represents them as fundamentally irrational, “mad,” and unworthy of having their knowledge inscribed in public discourse.

  1. Suppression of knowledge as gaslighting: Example and analysis

There are many, many topical examples of hermeneutical gaslighting via the suppression of knowledge. One that got a lot of publicity recently was Sam Harris’ interview with Charles Murray on his book on race and IQ, “The Bell Curve” (1994). In short, Murray holds that there are genetic differences between “races” that explain average differences in IQ. The critical flaw in this theory, as noted by Eric Turkheimer, Kathryn Paige, Richard E. Nisbett (2017), David Reich (2018), Ezra Klein (2018), and many other people from many disciplines (including genetics), is that Murray’s view falsely explains average differences in IQ by reference to genes shared by racial groups. As Klein says, “There is currently no reason at all to think that any significant portion of the IQ differences among socially defined racial groups is genetic in origin” (2018).

To make matter worse, Murray neverdiscusses environmental causes of IQ in his conversation with Harris, even though this relationship is extensively researched and well documented, as Harris and Murray are well aware. To give a few examples: we know that the black-white IQ gap is closing; there has been an 18-point gain in average IQ in the U.S. from 1948 to 2002 – more than twice the current racial IQ gap, which is only 10 points (misquoted as 15 points by Murray, whose data set is outdated); adoption from a poor family to a wealthy family is the strongest predictor of IQ gains, and so on. Harris and Murray never mention these clear relationships between environment and IQ. Their critical error, then, is not only to explain average IQ differences by reference to racial genetics, but also to willfully suppressknowledge about environmental causes of IQ differences.

But this is just the most basic error – there are many other errors that follow from this flawed axiom. One is that Murray commitspreciselywhat Mills identifies as a paradigmatic act of white ignorance – he says that Black people and white people have approximately equal social opportunities, which means that average IQ differences must be genetic. (In fact, Harris says this, and Murray confirms it: they both make the same mistake). Here is that part of the interview:


HARRIS: I have here a quote from Flynn — I don’t know when he wrote this or said this — but he says, “An environmental explanation of the racial IQ gap need only posit this: that the average environment for blacks in 1995 matches the quality of the average environment for whites in 1945.I do not find that implausible.” So what you just said seems to close the door to that [environmental] interpretation of the black-white gap.

MURRAY: Yes, it does, and this is a case where I am citing someone who has done analyses that are at a level of complexity that I am not independently competent to pronounce.


Second, Murray says that because IQ differences are genetically-based as opposed to cultural, social policies that address putative social inequalities between white populations and Black populations (which Murray doesn’t believe in) are misguided and should be eliminated:


HARRIS: I guess one thing that must be occurring to listeners now — and this is my misgiving about having this conversation and going into this area at all — the question is why talk about any of this? Why seek data on racial difference at all? What is the purpose of doing this?

MURRAY: Because we now have social policy embedded in employment policy, in academic policy, which is based on the premise that everybody’s equal above the neck, all groups are equal above the neck, whether it’s men and women or whether it’s ethnicities. And when you have that embedded into law [i.e., in the form of employment equity policies], you have a variety of bad things happen.


Third, Murray and Harris both believe that Murray is the victim of left-wing fascists and other ‘enemies of science.’ In their view, racialized minorities are decidedly not victims of Murray’s “junk science,” as described by his peers(2017); Murray is in fact the victim. This is an example of what I described in an earlier post as politically motivated scapegoating: denying responsibility by shifting blame onto a socially marginalized group, which is already stigmatized by pervasive cultural stereotypes, making them an easy target. Harris is clearly in on the scapegoating and epistemic marginalizing. He calls his talk with Murray “Forbidden Knowledge,” depicting it as the dissemination of repressed truths, instead of what it really is: yet another iteration of familiar racial stereotypes. The idea that Black people are unintelligent due to shared genetic deficits isn’t a radical new perspective, it’s an old racist myth! Indeed, it’s part of the very fabric of American society, which was founded on a principle of equality for white men, slavery for Black people, and domestic servitude for women. The original American social contract was, as others have pointed out, a racial (Mills 1997) and a sexual (Pateman 1988) contract, which legally codified white male supremacy as the de facto natural order. The legacy of this inegalitarian contract can still be seen in every major social institution. Every American with an elementary school education surely knows about America’s colonialist roots and racist cultural narratives; therefore, literally no one was enlightened by Harris’ interview with Murray. But many probably enjoyed it because it justified their privileges to them, mitigating any white guilt they may otherwise have felt.

What Harris and Murray did was, on my description, hermeneutical gaslighting. They didn’t discredit any individual person, which is the paradigmatic case of testimonial injustice. They also didn’t exploit an intimate relationship or emotional interdependence, which are characteristic features of classic gaslighting. But they did discredit Black people by saying that Black people as a group are genetically unintelligent. They didn’t exactly withholdhermeneutical tools from the target group; members of this group still have access to the same hermeneutical resources as before, though the Internet, libraries, and so on. But Harris and Murray suppressed knowledgeabout the shared cultural experiences of Black people by disseminating junk science about dubious connections between “race” and IQ, and willfully omitting pertinent information about historical and contemporary racial inequality. Their talk made salienta false narrative of racial inferiority, which serves to overshadowand obfuscate objective knowledge about racial injustice.

To be perfectly clear, I’m not saying that Harris and Murray are trying to gaslight their audience; I’m saying that they are gaslighting their audience. Their intentions are irrelevant to the question of whether their speech counts as a case of joint gaslighting, since gaslighitng is often unintentional.

How can we identify their speech acts as instances of hermeneutical gaslighting per se? Because these acts serve to: (1) undermine the standing of the target group, (2) undermine the self-conception of the target group (i.e., their self-conception as full persons), (3) involve manipulation. The manipulation, again, isn’t the manipulation of another person’s actions and choices, as represented in the movie “Gaslight,” but rather, the manipulation of epistemic resourcesrelevant to the target group’s standing. Harris and Murray are distorting the facts in a way that undermines the moral and epistemic standing of Black people – specifically, their standing to make intelligible claims to be seen as members of the community and to be respected as credible witnesses to their own lives. These violations are especially morally ‘dark’ because they discredit, silence, and pathologize their target; they misrepresent Murray’s opponents as left-wing fascists and enemies of science; they attempt to convince Black people that they don’t deserve better, and if they were to succeed in this aim, their target audience would be divorced from their authentic selves as people worthy of respect, and forced to “introject” white ignorance.

I doubt most people would be taken in by Murray’s flawed scientific perspective, but his speech still counts as a case of functionalgaslighting, as it has all the core features of hermeneutical gaslighting. If it succeeds in suppressing knowledge, then it is both functional and effective gaslighting.

  1. Just world bias as a paradigmatic type of gaslighting

Let’s revisit Charles Mills’ example of white ignorance, which I have classified as a typical example of hermeneutical gaslighting. In that example, the gaslighting consists in the speaker’s claim that abolition led to racial equality, i.e., that society is now fair. We see this myth echoed in Murray’s claim that racial equality emerged in the mid-20th Century. By denying the reality of racial injustice, the speaker functionally gaslightsvictims of social injustice. This typical example of hermeneutical gaslighting is also an example of “just world bias,” the tendency to see the world as if it were just (Hazlitt 2017; Burkeman 2015). Privileged people are susceptible to just world bias because they have a vested interest in denying the reality of their privileged status, as admitting to that unearned status would induce guilt and other negative emotions, and perhaps create a moral incentive to act differently (See my post on white guilt as a fitting moral emotion. To avoid feeling bad, privileged people invoke a false image of a fair world. Many cases of hermeneutical gaslighting, it seems, are caused or constituted by just world bias.

It’s best that we recognize the pervasiveness of this bias to avoid perpetuating it in our own expressive practices. As a rule, don’t say that any social space is equal. Just world bias isn’t necessarily about the state of the world; indeed, it’s usually expressed in a domain-specific way, regarding a specific social space, which is framed as being better than the ‘tawdry mainstream.’

Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that someone were to proclaim that philosophy is ‘flat,’ meaning an even playing field for all. Although the world is unfairly hierarchical, philosophy is immune from the injustices of mainstream culture. This is an example of domain-specific just world bias, and therefore a paradigmatic case of hermeneutical gaslighting on my view.

The claim is patently false for too many reasons to list, but if we just focus on gender inequalityin the profession, we can see many counterexamples to the just-world hypothesis. As my colleague Jill Delston observed in a recent St. Louis ‘Faculty Forward’ talk (2018), men make up the majority of high-ranking and full-time faculty in philosophy in the U.S., whereas women are overrepresented in contingent faculty positions; women’s work is less likely to be accepted for publication, less likely to be read, and is less cited than men’s; co-authored papers help men’s careers but hurt women’s; having children helps men but hurts women in academic philosophy, etc. These are just a few quantifiable examples of gender bias in the field, and they don’t speak to the qualitative experiences of women who face these injustices in their daily work lives.

Denying the reality of women’s experiences as philosophers is hermeneutical gaslighting. The claim of disciplinary gender equality rests on a false, cisgender, white, male perspective. It implicitly denies women’s claim to be treated fairly and with epistemic respect, since the demand for equality, within a field construed as already-equal, can only possibly be irrational, selfish, and “crazy.” If women accept this false narrative, they’re deceived into thinking that they don’t deserve more credit and respect from their colleagues. The just-world claim also implies that women can succeedif they just try as hard as men, which is false, since women already try harder than men (on average) and get less recognition (on average) due to gender bias and systemic inequality. The deceptive framing of philosophy as equitable is, in fact, torturous, in the sense that it tells women that they are capable of achieving equality with men if they just try harder, which is false; and if we were to accept this myth, we would be alienated from our authentic experience of oppression in the field. We would also be forced to accept or “introject” the male gaze, which isthe typical phenomenological effect of being gaslighted by a man(Abramson 2015).

I bring this up because this is a philosophy journal, and I believe that gaslighting happens in philosophy, perhaps quite a lot. One way to avoid gaslighting your colleagues is to reject just world theory. Don’t pretend that philosophy is fair. But by the same token, don’t pretend that the demographic composition of the profession is fine as it is. Don’t say, for instance, that demographic diversity has no significant pedagogical value(Leiter 2018) when it patently does (Harding 2015; Ciurria 2016; Pammarota 2011; McLaren 2018). In sum, don’t pretend that the profession is or was or soon will be an even playing field, but don’t pretend that it’s no big deal that full professors are overwhelmingly white and male, either (Cherry & Schwitzgebel 2016).

To be fair, I’m not saying that everyone who gaslights is some kind of monster. In conditions of epistemic injustice, it’s hard to know when you’re committing epistemic injustice, including gaslighting and scapegoating, and these transgressions come in degrees. I’ve probably committed acts of “micro-gaslighting” – the gaslighting equivalent of a “microagressions” – given that I have epistemic blindspots rooted in my white privilege. Admitting that you’re susceptible to implicit gaslighting is part of the solution.

  1. The epistemic and moral harms of gaslighting 

The harms of testimonial and hermeneutical gaslighting are both epistemic and moral. Miranda Fricker describes the “primary harms” of epistemic injustice as the silencing and epistemic marginalizing of the victim, and the resultant loss of valuable epistemic resources to the community (2007). These epistemic harms are both individual and collective – they harm the victim’s epistemic standing and the community’s shared knowledge. They are ‘primary’ in the sense that they are epistemic in nature. The “secondary” harms of epistemic injustice are political, socioeconomic, and moral. Epistemic injustice inflicts socioeconomic and political hardships on victims of identity prejudice, who are seen as less eligible for jobs, housing, political representation, education, and other social goods. But victims of epistemic injustice also suffer distinct moral harms– harms that Fricker does not discuss in any detail. (Fricker says little about the ‘secondary harms’ of epistemic injustice in general, leaving it to others to examine them). Abramson points out that the moral harms of gaslighting, a type of epistemic injustice, include injuries to the victim’s (i) moral standing, (ii) moral self-conception (as a moral agent worthy of basic moral regard), and (iii) moral autonomy (specifically, freedom to live according to her un-coerced moral values, or to be herself). This account suggests that the moral harmsof epistemic injustice mirror the epistemic harmsof this type of act: just as epistemic injustice harms the victim’s epistemic standing (or ability to make intelligible claims about what is true), epistemic injustice harms the victim’s moral standing (or ability to make intelligible claims about what is just, fair, or morally permissible); just as epistemic injustice harms the victim’s self-conception as a knower, someone with functional truth-tracking capacities, epistemic injustice harms the victim’s self-conception as a moral agent, someone with functional moral-reasons-tracking capacities; just as epistemic injustice harms the agent’s epistemic autonomy by manipulating her perception of what is true or credible, epistemic injustice harms the agent’s moral autonomy by manipulating her perception of what is just or fair. Furthermore, although Abramson never says this, the moral harms of epistemic injustice are not only individual, but also collective; epistemic injustice derives the communityof valuable moral resources –namely, knowledge about what is right, fair, decent, and morally upstanding. Thus, just as epistemic injustice harms the community’s epistemic resources, it harms the community’s moral resources, too.

Notably, Fricker nowhere says that the ‘primary’ harms of epistemic injustice are worse than the ‘secondary’ harms of epistemic injustice. Epistemic harms are ‘primary’ only because they belong to the same category as the ‘primary’ offense (epistemic injustice) – though it should be noted that epistemic injustice as also a moral transgressioninsofar as it involves morally problematic content, i.e., “ethically noxious motiv[es]” (Fricker 2012; 34), and it produces morally problematic effects, e.g., the loss of moral autonomy. But there is a case to be made that the loss of moral standing is more injurious, or ‘darker,’than the loss of epistemic standing, because our personhood just isour moral agency, and that the loss of moral knowledge is worse than the loss of factual knowledge, because moral wrongs are worse than factual errors.

On the first point, influential theorists like Strawson (1963) and Frankfurt (1971) have argued that personhood just is moral agency, seeing that moral agency is the critical factor that distinguishes persons from both moral incompetents and simple organisms. This view of personhood has recently been corroborated by research showing that people tend to rate their loved one as “the same person” if they lose their memories, distinctiveness, emotional qualities, and global mental function, but not if they lose their moral capacities (Strohminger & Nichols 2015).When subjects are asked to judge the persistence of moral personality in Alzheimer’s patients, “the extent to which [the] patient seems different is predicted almost entirely by the extent to which their moral traits changed and not at all by their memory loss” (Chituc 2015), contraJohn Locke, but consistent with Strawson and Frankfurt. On the second point (on collective harms), the loss of moral knowledge is arguably more harmful to the community than the loss of factual knowledge because we need moral knowledge more than factual knowledge to live well. The application of factual knowledge to evil purposes gives rise to dystopian scenarios like the Holocaust; a society without cell phones is less horrifying than a society riven by genocide. There is reason to believe, then, that the secondary harms of epistemic injustice might be moral injurious on balance than the primary harms, both individually and collectively. In any case, the primary and secondary harms of epistemic injustice are commensurate, in that they involve a simultaneous loss of epistemic, moral, and siociopolitical standing, respect, and autonomy in victims, and a loss of valuable factual, moral, and sociopolitical resources in the community.

It is worthwhile for moral theorists to note the severe moral harms perpetrated by epistemic injustice. In fact, in neglecting the role of epistemic injustice in the moral community, we fail to adequately frame this system of interpersonal relationships. Strawson (1963) made this mistake when he described ‘the moral community’ as a collective of moral agents who deploy ‘the reactive attitudes’ (e.g., blame, praise) so as to consolidate the community around shared moral values, while deploying ‘the objective attitude’ to exclude moral incompetents. Of course, this is not how society works. Instead, we systematically deploy the objective attitude toward socially marginalized groups on the basis of systemic identity prejudice, in such a way as to ‘other’ and exclude those groups. This increases the perceived moral standing of privileged in-group members, making it easier for them to gaslight, scapegoat, and discredit disadvantaged groups who threaten their position of control. Whereas Strawson cited children and morally deranged people as targets of the objective attitude, in conditions of epistemic injustice this attitude is (illicitly) extended to women, People of Color, and other classic gaslighting victims, who are framed as infantile, incompetent, ‘crazy,’ and corrupt. Strawson’s theoretical resources are useful for understanding idealdeployments of blame and praise, but he does not delve into the distorting role of identity prejudice in our moral economy. This is the new horizon for responsibility scholars.

This topic is explored, amongst other places, in the new edited volume,“Social Dimensions of Moral Responsibilty.”










Scapegoating: Blame gone wrong

  1. Scapegoating: false and excessive blame and punishment for perceived norm violations

Scapegoating is the practice of blaming and punishing innocent victims for purposes of expediency and/or political gain. Blame is a contested term, but I take it to denote negative and avoidant interpersonal practices, such as resenting, sanctioning, distrusting, excluding, and marginalizing people. Punishment also includes negative and exclusionary (albeit institutionalized) practices, such as incarcerating, disciplining, and isolating people. Depending on your theoretical framework, punishment may or may not fall under the rubric of blame; punishment may be an institutionalized version of blame, though with additional constraints determined by relevant institutional considerations, or it may be an entirely separate practice. I agree with Wallace (1996) that blame includes a range of criticizing and sanctioning responses, including, “at the limit,” punishment (1996: 54). Some reasons for thinking that punishment is part of the blaming system is that it is part of a system of relations in which we assign responsibility, and it is amenable to the same cognitive distortions, including implicit biases. Scapegoating as a type of epistemically irresponsible blame, then, can occur in carceral and extra-carceral systems.

America is one of the most socioeconomically stratified and demographically unequal countries in the developed world. As a result, historically disenfranchised groups, including African American, Hispanic, and LatinX people, women, and people with mental illness, are systemically scapegoated. That is, members of these groups are blamed and punished for norm violations they did not commit, or excessively blamed and punished for relatively insignificant norm violations, on the basis of oppressive cultural stereotypes and social scripts. Scapegoating reinforces existing asymmetries of power and protects the positive self-conception and socioeconomic status of privileged groups.

In this post, I will explain how America’s extreme socioeconomic inequality harms Black and LatinX Americans, women, and people with mental illness*, making them vulnerable to scapegoating (section 2). In section 3, I will explain more specifically how scapegoating practices harm and vilify these groups across a range of social institutions. In section 4, I will define scapegoating as not just a type of misdirected blame, but a type of epistemic injustice with the characteristic feature of vilifying marginalized groups by blaming them for society’s real or imagined problems, and I will outline some of the harms perpetrated by this type of injustice. In sections 5 and 6, I will explain who is responsible for scapegoating, on two different theories of responsibility (the indirect-control view and functionalism). I hold that cognitively functional Americans are generally responsible for scapegoating on both views, though there may be some variation in degrees of blameworthiness depending on the circumstance; and I say that, on both views, scapegoaters can be blamed for both the harms and the contents of overt scapegoating actions.

2. Socioeconomic Inequality

Scapegoating is a common practice in modern society, in part because modern society is characterized by conditions of severe socioeconomic inequality and demographic stratification. The United States has the fifth highest level of income inequality (measured by household disposable income per year) of all OECD countries, behind only Turkey, Chile, Costa Rica, and South Africa  (OECD 2017). The top 1% of Americans control 38.6% of the nation’s wealth – almost twice as much as the bottom 90% combined (Egan 2017). Poverty does not affect every social group equally; it disproportionally affects historically disenfranchised groups. The real median income of non-Hispanic white households is $65,041, compared to only $47,675 for Hispanic-origin households and $39,490 for Black households (Semega et al. 2017). Income inequality, moreover, pales in comparison to wealth inequality: ‘white households in the middle-income quintile (those earning $37,201-$61,328 annually) own nearly eight times as much wealth ($86,100) as middle-income Black earners ($11,000) and ten times as much wealth as middle-income Latino earners ($8,600)” (Asante-Muhammad et al. 2017). That is, within the same income bracket, Black and LatinX earners own much less wealth than white earners.

Income also varies by gender: Women as a group earn just 80% as much as men, but Hispanic/Latina women and African American women, respectively, earn only 54% and 63% on the dollar, compared to white women’s 79% and Asian women’s 87% earnings (AAUW 2017).

These are some of the major populations studied by economists, but it leaves out many disadvantaged groups, including people with mental illness. Higher economic inequality is linked with higher national rates of mental illness (Pickett et al. 2006), and mental illness is highest amongst low-income families (McSilver Institute 2014). Research suggests that poverty is not just the result of disability due to mental illness, but a significant cause of mental illness (ibid). The United States has the third-highest disease burden due to mental illness of all WHO member states (after only China and India) (McPhillips 2014, WHO 2017), and ranks 37th for access to healthcare services – higher than Slovenia, but below Costa Rica (TPF 2018). 56% of Americans currently lack access to mental health treatment, with worse access in states that chose not to expand Medicaid (MHA 2017).

This isn’t an exhaustive list of socioeconomically disadvantaged demographic groups, of course, but it is a suggestive compilation of readily-available economic data. (I don’t have time to address further intersections of oppression here). The specified disadvantaged groups – Black, LatinX, Hispanic Americans, women, and those with mental illness – are victims of systemic scapegoating. That is, they are systemically blamed for illusory and trivial norm-violations because they are easy targets (due to low socioeconomic status, intergenerational trauma, etc.), and because blaming these groups reinforces the existing colonialist, patriarchal, ableist social order. Blaming members of disadvantaged groups for norm violations that they didn’t commit maintains the status quo, reinforces oppressive social narratives, and protects the socioeconomic interests of  the historically privileged.

3. The cultural scapegoating of socioeconomically disadvantaged groups

Here are some examples of systemic scapegoating.

The United States, which contains 21% of the world’s prison population – more than China (APA 2014) – incarcerates African Americans at almost five times the rate of white Americans, incarcerates twice as many Black women as white women, disproportionally arrests Black children, and has a majority Black and Hispanic prison population (56%), even though these groups make up only 32% of the U.S. population (NAACP 2018). Implicit racial bias, structural disadvantages, and racial profiling lead to high levels of incarceration amongst African Americans (TSP 2016). In terms of postsecondary education, African Americans have a 47.1% graduation rate and Hispanic/LatinX Americans have a 56.5% graduation rate at public 4-year colleges, compared to a 64.4% graduation rate for White students (Imagine 2008). This is in part because African American and Hispanic/LatinX students receive disproportionate discipline referrals (controlling for socioeconomic status), resulting in more suspensions and expulsions (ibid., Wallace et al. 2005). This is due in part to implicit racial bias and stereotype threat. Of students classified as aggressive, African Americans are more likely to be disciplined than any other student group, especially by white teachers (Horner, Fireman, & Wang, 2010; KITSRE 2018). (Same-race teachers judge Black students’ classroom behaviour more favourably than do white teachers). Students with a ‘black walking style’ are perceived by teachers as lower in academic achievement, highly aggressive, and likely to be in need of special education services (Neal et al. 2003). Teachers have lower expectations of Black students than other student groups, resulting in expectancy effects and stereotype threat that harm their academic performance (McKown & Weinstein 2002). Black girls are seen as more adult-like and less innocent than their peers, resulting in harsher and more frequent punishments by educators and school resource officers (Epstein et al. 2016). These effects converge in scholastic system of relations in which “less praise” and “more disciplinary action” is taken against Black students (KITSRE 2018).

Women don’t suffer incarceration rates equal to Black and Hispanic/Latino men, but they suffer higher rates of sexual violence: 90% of adult and 87% juvenile rape victims are female (RAINN 2018) – and women are often blamed for being raped, especially by people high in rape-myth acceptance and implicit gender bias (Grubb & Turner 2012). This helps to explain why only 6 out of every 1000 rapists go to prison, and most rapists are never reported (RAINN 2018). In the criminal justice system, female expert witnesses tend to be seen as more credible in civil cases than criminal cases, possibly because criminal litigation is stereotypically male (Larson & Brodsky 2010; Couch & Sigler, 2002; Jones et al. 2014). This implies that credibility in court depends on salient gender stereotypes. In postsecondary education, female teachers receive lower scores on Students Evaluations of Teaching than male teachers across almost all disciplines, controlling for student learning outcomes (Flaherty 2016; Flaherty 2017), which suggests that women are subject to harsher criticism and resentment from students than male teachers on average. In the workplace, women who exhibit leadership skills are seen as ‘bossy’ and ‘less effective’ than men (Kramer 2016). Women can’t just transfer into a more lucrative (historically male) profession on mass, because when the share of women in an occupation increases, the occupation is devalued and pays lower wages (Levanon et al. 2009). In short, women are blamed and punished more often than men when gender stereotypes are salient, including in criminal court, higher education, and corporate America. Women are seen as less praiseworthy, and more blameworthy, in their capacity as court witnesses, university professors, and workers in historically male fields. (I should note that I used statistics about ‘female’ vs. ‘male’ expert witnesses, teachers, and workers, because of the availability of the data; it is a reasonable conjecture that trans women face the same discrimination, plus transphobia, in historically male workplaces).

Next, people with mental illness tend to be incarcerated rather than being provided with mental health services, but a majority of mentally ill prisoners are not violent offenders (NAMI 2018). Nonetheless, people with mental illness are systemically scapegoated for America’s culture of mass shootings. After the 1999 Columbine shooting, psychiatrist Peter Breggin blamed mentally ill people; after the 2012 Newtown shooting, psychiatrist E. Fuller Torrey blamed ‘mentally ill subgroups’; and in 2008, the U.S. Supreme Court endorsed prohibitions on gun ownership for people with mental illness, on the assumption that there is a correlation between mental illness and homicide (AJPH 2014). There isn’t. Research shows that “fewer than 5% of the 120 000 gun-related killings in the United States between 2001 and 2010 were perpetrated by people diagnosed with mental illness” (ibid), while about 20% of American adults have a diagnosable mental illness (Insel 2015). In other words, having a mental illness predicts not committing a mass shooting. People with mental illness are more likely to be assaulted than to commit assault (AJPH 2014), but they are stereotyped as ‘dangerous,’ ‘violent,’ and ‘criminal.’

Factors that do predict gun violence include gun availability and social relations: up to 85% of shootings occur within social networks (Papachristos 2012). There is also a positive correlation between mass shootings and domestic violence: while “perpetrators of domestic violence account for only about 10 percent of all gun violence, they accounted for 54 percent of mass shootings between 2009 and 2016” (NPR 2017; citing Everytown 2017). Psychiatrists are not effective barriers to mass shootings, as they are no better than laypeople at predicting whether a patient will commit a violent crime (Steadman 1978). As Jonathan Metzl clarifies, there is no psychiatric diagnosis that includes gun violence as a symptom; hence, when it comes to mass shootings, there is no “predictive value to psychiatric diagnosis” (Metzl on NPR, February 18, 2018).

Mental illness is diagnosed three to four times more often in Black and Hispanic/LatinX service users than in white service users, possibly due to clinical racial bias, differential access to healthcare, and different attitudes toward mental healthcare (Schwartz et al. 2014). This suggests that mental illness may not have robust construct validity, let alone predictive value. In any case, the majority of mass shooters are white males (54%) (Foleman et al. 2017), and most do not have a diagnosed mental illness. Salient predictors of gun violence, then, do not include having a mental illness; they having access to guns, knowing the victim, having a record of domestic violence, and being a white male. If there is a predictively valid stereotype of a mass shooter, then, it is a normal white male.


In sum, racialized minorities, women, and people with mental illness tend to be falsely and excessively blamed and punished due to the saliency of cultural stereotypes.  These patterns of blame and punishment reinforce patriarchal, colonial, and ableist social scripts.

4. Scapegoating as epistemic injustice 

Scapegoating reinforces oppressive social scripts rooted in America’s colonial-patriarchal history. Black and Hispanic/LatinX Americans are disproportionally blamed and punished for perceived norm violations and perceived suberogatory performance in judicial and educational contexts; women are unfairly blamed for perceived subordinate performance in stereotypically male judicial, educational, and corporate contexts; and people with mental illness are unfairly blamed and stigmatized in the wake of mass shootings.

In his influential work on responsibility, Manual Vargas argues that our capacity for moral responsibility is influenced by the availability of “narratives, scripts, or cultural frameworks,” which comprise our “moral ecology” (2013: 246). Similarly, Jose Medina argues that our capacity for responsibility depends on the availability of social scripts, narratives, and discourses, which comprise our shared “social imagination” (2012). Our sensitivity to people’s moral and epistemic traits, on these views, is conditioned by salient social scripts – for example, scripts about putative associations between race and criminality, gender and credibly, and mental health and violence. These scripts are rooted in historical asymmetries of power, and they normalize and reinforce these asymmetries. Blaming disadvantaged groups reinforces the very scripts that oppress them.

Scapegoating targets socially marginalized groups because these groups are vulnerable, socioeconomically, politically, and epistemically. Therefore, they are easy targets. Perhaps the best way of framing scapegoating as a type of harm or injustice is to see it is as a kind of epistemic injustice, which involves giving someone a deflated credibility rating on the basis of identity prejudice (Fricker 2007). When we scapegoat someone by framing the person’s group identity or visible demographic attributes through dominant social narratives as a type of failing or liability, we are harming the scapegoating victim’s epistemic standing within the community – that is, we are committing testimonial injustice (Fricker 2007: 1). Similarly, when we fail to refute false stereotypes about marginalized social groups, we are withholding pertinent epistemic resources from those groups and normalizing oppressive scripts, which is what Alyssa Cirne calls “willful hermeneutical marginalization” (2012: 46) –  a second type of epistemic injustice. Both types of epistemic injustice are perpetrated by people with epistemic deficits.

The distinctive characteristic of scapegoating as a type of epistemic injustice is that scapegoating vilifies an epistemically vulnerable group by framing their identities and experiences through the dominant framework(s) of the privileged, and therefore frames their identities and experiences as essentially morally corrupt. As Gaile Pohlhais, Jr. (2014) describes epistemic injustice, its “primary harms” involve “othering” members of marginalized groups, specifically for purposes of “maintaining epistemic practices that make sense of the world as experienced from dominant subjectivities, but [does not grant the ‘othered’ individuals] the same epistemic support with regard to their lived experiences in the world” (2014: 105, emphasis mine). Scapegoating has this character of ‘othering’ epistemically vulnerable groups, but also vilifying these groups by framing them as responsible for a range of real or imagined social ills. Mentally ill people are responsible for mass shootings; Black and LatinX Americans are responsible for crime and socioeconomic inequality; women are to blame not earning as much as men, seeing that they are less competent. Nothing is the fault of the privileged on this top-down, non-reciprocal, hierarchical framework. Scapegoating reinforces social inequality by redistributing moral responsibility from the privileged to the least well-off, mirroring the flow of currency within the financial economy. This is a far cry from Rawls’ ideal of justice.

Scapegoating as an epistemic practice inflicts distinct  harms on scapegoating victims. Pohlhais, Jr. argues that epistemic injustice perpetrates two types of primary harm: it harms the individual as an epistemic agent, and it harms the epistemic community by withholding or suppressing valuable hermeneutical resources, particularly knowledge about the lived experiences of the oppressed – knowledge that the community is entitled to and requires in order to function well (in a truth-conducive way). Scapegoating is precisely this type of injustice – an injustice that validates the worldview and epistemic standing of the privileged and discredits the lived reality and epistemic standing of the victims, thereby harming the victims and the entirely epistemic community. These harms cannot be seen as equivalent, however. The victim is harmed in a particularly egregious way, as her epistemic standing is damaged, her testimony is discredited, she is prevented from pursuing epistemic projects that stem from her lived experiences, and she is denied the right to form epistemic alliances with other disadvantaged knowers (Pohlhaus, Jr. 2014: 110), and she is then subjected to “secondary harms” (Fricker 2007: 47), such as a loss of moral, socioeconomic, and political standing. This is why scapegoating – similar to gaslighting as described by Kate Abramson (2014) – is a particularly pernicious type of epistemic injustice: it inflicts distinct epistemic, moral, and existential harms on its victims. But unlike gaslighting, which pathologizes the victim, scapegoating vilifies the victim.

5. Who is responsible for scapegoating? Responsibility as indirect control

Who is responsible for scapegoating qua epistemic injustice? Fricker says that perpetrators of testimonial injustice are culpable, unless the hermeneutical resources required to accurately frame the victim’s experiences are socio-historically unavailable, in which case the perpetrator is a victim of “epistemic bad luck” (2007: 42). Sexual harassment, for example, was non-culpable (or less-than-full-culpable) before “sexual harassment” entered the English lexicon, and the same is true of testimonial injustice against victims of sexual harassment, who could not intelligibly frame their experiences (Fricker 2007: 148).

This is a strict view of culpability, as it sees culpability as dependent on control, such that we are only culpable for epistemic transgression that we could have avoided or prevented (or otherwise controlled), either directly or indirectly. (Direct control is too strict, since many mental states are cognitively impenetrable but amenable to indirect, non-immediate control via “life hacks,” such as intergroup contact, implementation intentions, and exposure to counter-stereotypcal images [viz., Holroyd 2012, Christiane Merritt: forthcoming]; thus, indirect control is the better criterion, and currently the more popular one). Some theorists don’t require any amount of control for responsibility, but even on the ‘control view,’ most Americans would turn out to be responsible for scapegoating, given that information about group-level injustice in America is openly discussed, widely disseminated, and accessible to anyone with an Internet connection or a library card. By all appearances, the control condition is met by most Americans on Fricker’s interpretation, since the “relevant concepts” for accurately framing the epistemic harms inflicted on scapegoating victims are “socio-historically available” (2007: 100). While I can’t speak to everyone’s specific epistemic position, I can say this: if you’re reading this blog post, you’re in an epistemic position to be held responsible for scapegoating, should you go ahead and scapegoat a member of a marginalized social group.

Many responsibility theorists subscribe to a version of the indirect-control view. (Fricker is a social epistemologists, not a responsibility theorists per se, though she writes about culpability). J. M. Fischer, the protagonist on the ‘deep control view’ (2006), has never, to my knowledge, written about epistemic ignorance (which is the basis of testimonial injustice), but most theorists who have written on this topic agree that ignorance is not an excuse for wrongdoing, since ignorance can be a culpable failing. People who fail to guard against ignorance are responsible for that epistemic vice and its downstream effects.

Manual Vargas and Jose Medina seem to agree with Fricker that culpability depends on access to epistemic resources, in addition to a functional adult brain. (Children, they would say, are not fully responsible). They are optimistic that ordinary people have the baseline cognitive capacity to sort through competing social scripts, narratives, and schemas, and appraise them for credibility. Unlike totalitarian regimes, liberal democracies involve a marketplace of ideas in which epistemic resources are widely available. That said, epistemic resources may vary by geographical location – for example, 28% of Americans living in rural areas have no access to the Internet, compared to only 23% of urban Americans [Molla 2017], and rural Americans also have less access to library books (Weingarten 2017. These epistemic factors might mitigate responsibility for resource-dependent epistemic deficits, but they don’t necessarily extinguish responsibility. If indirect control is all that is needed, then perhaps neurotypical adults would be expected to stop by a library at some point in their lives. All that we can say for sure is that responsibility is almost certainly extinguished in “epistemic black holes,” i.e., locations in which relevant concepts are completely absent. North Korea involves large areas of epistemic black holes; America involves relatively few. 

It is notable here that many cases of epistemic injustice are not motivated by simple ignorance, but, in Fricker’s view, by “motivated irrationality,” underpinned by “ethically noxious” motives (2007: 34). Scapegoating involves motivated irrationality in that it is motivated, as we saw, by a vested interest in protecting and perpetrating dominant frames of references. Jonathan Metzl notes that scapegoating narratives tend to use different frames of reference to explain the same behaviours in members of different social groups, even when there are no morally salient differences between the two. For example, when People of Color commit mass shootings, politicians and the media tend to frame the event as a collective or group-based problem – namely, a ‘problem with the Black community.’ This narrative has false predictive value because, if true, it would allow us to predict mass shootings on the basis of African descent. On the other hand, when white men commit mass shootings, politicians and the media tend to invoke an individualist or bad-apple framework, which allows them to frame the event as the decision of a mentally ill “lone wolf” (Metz 2017). The reason for this paradigm shift, says Metzl, is that white people identify with other white people and don’t want to see their image reflected back to them in the faces of white shooters, so they are reluctant to identify being white and male as a predictor of being a mass shooter, even though this paradigm would have much more predictive validity than their preferred scapegoating scripts. This exemplifies how scapegoating scripts rests on noxious motives – a vested interest in preserving one’s positive self-conception and privileged status as a white male.

Because scapegoating narratives, as such, involve not only pernicious consequences (the primary and secondary harms of epistemic injustice), but also noxious motives, they could be seen as blame-imputing on two counts: the agent is blameworthy for perpetrating certain harms, and perhaps also for acting on certain noxious motives. While there are debates about the moral status of implicit states (See Kelly & Roedder 2008), most people agree that a person can, under certain circumstances, be blameworthy for expressing morally problematic implicit states in his overt behaviour. Thus, scapegoaters might be blameworthy on both deontic and aretaic grounds, i.e., both for committing a moral transgression, and for expressing character flaws in their behaviour.

6. Responsibility as a social regulation mechanism (functionalism)

Many contemporary responsibility theorists reject the control condition, and subscribe to a ‘functionalist’ view on which blame is appropriate if this reaction would serve some positive social end (e.g., McGeer 2014, Bell 2014, Malle et al. 2014). Thus, people might be blameworthy even if they are irredeemable psychopaths. On this view, scapegoaters should be blamed and virtuous explainers praised, it seems, so as to establish a moral-epistemic ecology in which credible explanatory paradigms are salient, and harmful stereotypes are debunked. Blaming scapegoaters could be a way of condemning the expression of these harmful narratives and thwarting the spread of the “noxious” motives that support them. If so, then blaming scapegoaters is generally a good social policy.

This view also seems to imply that blaming public figures, whose speech is particularly visible, is an especially good social policy. Donald Trump is an example of a very public and very committed scapegoater. Trump, for example, has a habit of scapegoating Muslims for acts of terrorism, in spite of the fact that a majority of domestic terrorism is committed by non-Islamic right-wing extremists [Niewart et al. 2017]); but Trump was quick to swap the collectivist paradigm for an individualist one when he described the Las Vegas shooter as “‘a very sick man’ and a ‘very demented person,’ without mentioning anything about the shooter’s background or potential political ideology” (Metzl 2017).

Who is actually responsible for the American culture of school shootings? James Fallows argues that Mitch McConnel is perhaps more blameworthy than anyone, seeing that he blocked a bipartisan vote on gun control measures by leading a filibuster in 2013, and then Tweeted his “thoughts and prayers” to the victims of the Los Vegas shooting in 2017 (Fallows 2018). The ‘thoughts and prayers’ Tweet is a familiar obfuscatory tactic that substitutes a positive-thinking narrative for a causal explanation. The reason for McConnel’s decision is arguably his funding from the N.R.A. (though he is not even on the list of top-ten Senators and Congresspeople receiving N.R.A. funding [David Leonhardt et al. 2017]). McConnel, and other politicians who have accepted N.R.A. donations, then, seem to be blameworthy for thwarting gun control legislation, thereby perpetuating America’s gun culture, and for acting on ostensibly noxious (financial) motives.

On a functionalist picture, it makes sense to see Trump and McConnel as exceptionally blameworthy for scapegoating vulnerable groups and perpetrating false narratives (e.g., ‘thoughts and prayers’ are effective). But on the control view, they are potentially just as blameworthy. (I say ‘potentially’ because there are substantive questions about whether Trump has a functional adult brain, one that supports self-control [see Hamblin 2018]. In general, however, the the control view and the functionalist view converge in holding cognitively functional adults generally blameworthy for their overt scapegoating behaviours.

If we don’t reject scapegoating narratives about mass shootings and adopt evidence-based blaming practices and policies, then this Onion article might actually be our future:

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*I’m not committed to saying that mental illness is a valid construct, but I’m adopting this term from the research simply to pick out a social group that is especially disadvantaged.

The limits of blame: How to avoid blame fetishism

Tl;dr: What are the limits of appropriate or ‘fitting’ blame? Several theorists have raised worries about vicious judgmentalism, excessive blame, intrusive blame, moral grandstanding, and other instances of “blame fetishism” – blaming practices that exceed the limits of appropriate blame. In this paper, I identify eight constraints on appropriate blame, which, if observed, should help us avoid blame fetishism. The constraints are: (1) intelligibility, (2) situational uptake, (3) safety and wellbeing, (4) semantic resonance, (5) privacy, (6) proportionality, and (7) cultural sensitivity. These constraints are rooted in different aspects of blame; namely, since blame is essentially expressive or conversational, typically confrontational, and often punitive, it is subject to constraints (1)-(8).

  1. Constraints on blame

What are the limits of appropriate blame? Quite a few scholars have expressed worries about vicious judgmentalism, excessive blame, intrusive blame, moral grandstanding, and other practices that exceed the limits of judicious or ‘fitting’ blame. But it is exceedingly difficult to carve out the boundaries of appropriate blame.

Elsewhere, I have argued for an equality constraint on blame, as treating others as equals would promote (something approximating to) the ecological conditions of our early evolutionary ancestors, and thereby minimize the role of implicit bias in our ‘responsibility system,’ i.e., the system of relations in which we express the reactive attitudes in response to people’s morally salient characteristics (viz., McKenna 2013, Strawson 1963). Conditions of relational quality would enable us to respond sensitively to the morally-salient qualities of persons, as opposed to blaming and praising in response to morally-irrelevant traits (e.g., race, gender, SES) – a practice that would only reinforce existing social injustices.

The proposed model is a ‘functionalist’ one, in that it sees blame as serving a moral-social function. Functionalists hold that blame serves social purposes and has social conditions or constraints. According to Malle, Guglielmo, & Monro, “persuasive blame” has five conditions (2014: 172): it (i) gets the attention of norm violators, (ii) communicates information about norm violations, (iii) persuades others to accept the blaming judgment, (iv) promotes shared values, and (v) repairs damaged relationships. Insofar as blame is a feature of ordinary conversation, it makes sense to think that persuasiveness is a desideratum. I don’t dispute these conditions, but I believe that they, too, have constraints, particularly the constraint of promoting equality. A blaming judgment can serve to (i) communicate information about a (perceived) norm violation, (ii) communicate relevant information, (iii) persuade others, (iv) promote shared values, and (v) repair relationships, amongst an insular group of racists, without serving any ultimate moral purpose. Thus, conditions (i)-(v) must not only foster consensus, but also facilitate broad equality.

These constraints, together, help to delimit when it is appropriate to blame someone (appropriate contexts), as well as how one ought to express blame (appropriate contents). Some expressions of blame respect conditions (i)-(vi) more than others. If someone interrupts me and I say, “please don’t interrupt while I’m speaking,” this is a more satisfactory expression of blame than, “shut up, cow!” The first response is more (i) informative, (iii) persuasive, and (v) reparative than the latter, so to it is more successful in functionalist terms. To be clear, these should be seen as satisficing as opposed to maximizing conditions: while I should communication information about interrupting in my blaming response, I don’t need to write a dissertation on the harms of interrupting for the intellectual benefit of my interlocutor – this would probably be received as pompous and eccentric. As I see them, (i)-(v) provide thresholds that should be met by a satisfactory blaming response. These conditions can also compete: a more informative instance of blame might be less reparative, whereas a more concise response might elicit more sympathy from someone who’s in a hurry, fostering reconciliation. Thus, the pros and cons of the different conditions must be taken into consideration when formulating a rhetorically effective response.

Having said this, our perception of norm violations is not necessarily trustworthy: we tend to perceive norm violations (e.g., interrupting) differently depending on the demographic attributes of the speaker (gender, race, socioeconomic status). For example, when researchers studied people’s conversations, they found that men who interact with women interrupt 30% more often than when they interact with men; in the course of a 3-minute conversation, men interrupted women 2.1 times  (Hancock & Rubin 2014). This phenomenon is colloquially known as ‘manterrupting.’ Although interrupting (and even more so, ‘manterrupting’) is rude, men who speak more frequently are nonetheless perceived as more competent, while women who speak more frequently are perceived as less competent (Brescoll 2011), which means that manterrupting is likely to be perceived as a virtue only because the speaker is male, whereas interrupting by a woman is more likely to be seen as transgressive. This discrepancy exemplifies the importance of the equality constraint: our evaluative judgments and perceptions are biased by cultural stereotypes that harm oppressed social groups on average. (Implicit biases are triggered by speicifc activating conditions, but in general acculturated implicit biases are to the advantage of historically privileged groups). We must therefore be vigilant about the role of implicit biases in our communicative dispositions and jugdments. Unlike constraints (i)-(v), (vi) is indefeasible and domain-general, meaning that we must always promote equality, and there is no upper limit on the value of this condition. Equality prevents us from employing other conditions in biased ways, so it is, in a sense, an architectonic constraint.

Conditions (i)-(vi) thus provide a bulwark against a common worry about blame – namely, that focusing on blame might promote ‘blame fetishism,’ or a propensity for exorbitant blame. Malle and his colleagues’ work is helpful in this regard. But the proposed list of six constraints (including equality) is surely not exhaustive, and it is worth examining whether there might be other critical checks and balances. In the course of this paper, I will elucidate eight additional constraints, drawing on the philosophical literature and common sense. First, however, I will overview some salient about blame fetishism.

  1. Blame fetishism

Some people worry that fixating on blame can promote a kind of ‘blame fetishism.’ The worry is that talking about blame might leads to an unhealthy obsession with blame, a hyper-focus on putative norm violations, and a general propensity to blame people harshly, uncharitably, and ungenerously. Raymond Lau (2009) argues that we live in a “culture of blame” that denies the importance of chance in our lives, giving rise to excessive and obsessional blame. (Neil Levy says something similar about the denial of chance in his 2011 book, which defends responsibility elminativism). According to Lau, blame fetishism is a modern phenomenon connected with America’s culture of rampant litigation. Similarly, Paul Bloom thinks that we should blame people less often and less stringently by cultivating “rational empathy,” rooted in an understanding of our shared humanity, particularly our shared cognitive biases (2016). His theory has a “there but for the grace of god go I” flavor; he asks us to forgive people their enculturated biases. In a similar vein, Gary Watson admonishes us to avoid the “vice of judgmentalism” (2013), which includes being ungenerous and unaccepting of the faults of others. Tosi and Warmke (2016) criticize “moral grandstanding,” i.e., an inauthentic expression of blame used to gain attention and popularity, similar to self-centered ‘virtue signaling.’ These views all caution against the perils of blame fetishism.

Prior to any of these conversations, Nietzsche was skeptical of moral judgment, including blame. He criticized “master morality” for being dogmatic, limited, and incomplete: he wrote, “human history would be a really stupid affair without that spirit which entered it from the powerless” (Nietzsche 2009 [1887]: essay 1, sec. 7). But he also criticized its counterpart, “slave morality,” for being backward-looking, hostile, and incapable of overcoming its own limitations. Both “moralities,” he thought, rest on a kind of epistemic narcissism, and both are incapable of transcending their limitations to generate genuinely new discursive and existential possibilities. The role of blame within each system must be limited to the promulgation and validation of the insular norms of the system, which strengthens hostility to perceived outsiders (i.e., out-group bias), and increases social stratification. Blame, on this picture, is a dogmatic and polarizing element of a segregated society with two competing and irreconcilable moral frameworks.

I agree with the spirit of all these perspectives, insofar as I think that blame is typically expressed in patterns of thought and action (and social narratives and scripts) that oppress historically disenfranchised groups (see my previous work). In modern American society, mainstream blaming practices smack of “master morality,” in the sense that they recruit pernicious stereotypes and scapegoating narratives to punish, oppress, discredit, and marginalize the socially disadvantaged. (e.g., See Trump’s tweets for an example of scapegoating narratives that exploit cultural stereotypes to harm minorities [Cauley 2017]).

That said, I believe that the solution to this problem is not to eliminate blame, but rather, to shape blame in such a way as to foster social equality. This project admittedly involves the expression of hostility, resentment, disappointment, distrust, censure, and other negative ‘reactive attitudes’ (Strawson 1963) toward transgressors, particularly transgressors who abuse their institutional privileges; but this reactive response is not, contra Nietzsche, backward-looking and deconstructive; it is forward-looking and constructive, aimed at creating new social imaginaries (Medina 2012), engineering new moral ecologies (Vargas 2013), and fostering epistemic respect. It is geared toward ‘troubling’ extant moral discourses and producing new epistemic, existential, and performative possibilities (Butler 1990). Successful blaming practices foster epistemic and moral justice, and for this reason, they reduce historical binaries, exclusions, and fractures, and produce the preconditions for moral, political, and epistemic equality.

This is, of course, an (egalitarian) ideal of blame, not the reality, and I agree with skeptics that blame doesn’t foster equality in general. But I think that blame can be, not exactly “sanitized,” but rehabilitated (viz., McGeer 2008). To rehabilitate our blaming system, we need to be vigilant about how we deploy blame, and we need to be cautious about whether our expressions of blame respect success conditions (i)-(vi).

Admittedly, these conditions are not exhaustive. I’m not sure it would be possible to enumerate a set of necessary and sufficient conditions on successful blame. Conditions (i)-(v) are better seen as prototypical constraints, which are defeasible, can compete with one another, and are sensitive to context. (vi), on the other hand, is necessary and indefeasible. In addition to these conditions, philosophical theory and commonsense point to more specific limitations, which may or may not be subsumed under (i)-(vi) – I will not decide that here. One salient example is privacy: many theorists believe that we should limit the extent to which blame infringes on people’s privacy (e.g., Darwall 2011; Bell 2013). Another example is cultural variation: many theorists think that blame should be sensitive to cultural differences (e.g., Wong 2006). It is worth considering these types of commonsense constraints, which, if observed, could contribute to the project of rehabilitating blame and placing constraints on errant and excessive tokens of it.

Before proceeding with this inquiry, I will first explain what I take ‘blame’ to mean. The constraints on blame effectively fall out of one’s theoretical framework. Since my view is ‘expressivist’ (more on which in section 3), many of my constraints on blame are going to be extensions of the constraints on conversational contributions (e.g., intelligibility, uptake, semantic resonance); some will be constraints on confrontation (safety, wellbeing, privacy); and others will be constraints on punitive treatment (proportionality, cultural sensitivity). Since blame can have all of these features (conversational structure, confrontational interface, punitive effects), it is subject to all of these constraints. Blaming tokens that violate these constraints are prima facie inappropriate, unless they are justified by some feature of the context.

I hope that by illuminating these constraints, I can deflate the worry about blame fetishism. My arguments, of course, don’t establish that people won’t be blame fetishists; that’s up to them. I can only show that we don’t have to be blame fetishists, and we won’t be if we observe these checks and balances and hone epistemic virtue. I think that talking about blame is, in fact, more likely to democratize, domesticate, and enrich our system of blaming interactions, rather than corrupting it beyond its current level of depravity and inequity. Since our blaming system is currently strongly shaped by sexism, racism, transphobia, and other implicit and explicit biases, we should be having conversations about how to repair it.

  1. Blame as paradigmatically expressive

Although some theorists hold that blame can be a private judgment, most Strawsonians espouse expressivist accounts of blame (and praise), on which blame is paradigmatically an expressive exchange (e.g., McKenna 2012, 2013; McGeer 2013, Bell 2013, Malle et al. 2014). This doesn’t mean that blame cannot be unexpressed or unspoken, but such ‘internal,’ or merely thought, instances of blame are not the paradigmatic case. The reason for holding that blame is paradigmatically public is that blame cannot function to regulate interpersonal relationships if it is private, and Strawsonians subscribe to an essentially interpersonal account, so most expressivists (including those just cited) also subscribe to an expressivist model.

On the other hand, one might argue that blame is paradigmatically private because it is causally antecedent to public blame, and causal priority is a mark of paradigmatic-ness. This is not necessarily how blame works, though. In morally competent adults, an internal blaming judgment may precede the public expression of that judgment in many cases, but this is not necessarily the normal causal sequence: an overt expression of blame may be an automatic, knee-jerk response to blame-eliciting conditions, with the reflective judgment coming after, perhaps in the form of a post hoc rationalization (which is how Haidt thinks moral judgment typically works [2001]). On McGeer’s model (2008), blame is an evolutionary adaptation that is ‘canonically’ emotional and quite often automatic, though automatic blaming responses are susceptible to cognitive mediation. Public expressions of blame, on this view, are not necessarily caused by prior reflection – they may be automatic emotional responses to situational triggers. Some theorists construe blaming responses as habits (or habituated response patterns), which consist of (expressions of) neural patterns automatically activated in response to salient eliciting conditions (Wood 2017); but these neural structures are partly caused by reflective states and activated knowledge structures. Thus, habituated responses, even if automatic, are also ‘reflective’ in the sense that they are conditioned by the agent’s system of reflective judgments (system-2 processes) and learning history.

The most empirically accurate picture of blame on these models is as a hybrid of automatic (system-1) and reflective (system-2) judgments. To see blame as ‘paradigmatically reflective’ would be an oversimplification; blaming attitudes are states with complex neurocognitive profiles that implicate many brain structures and causal pathways. Therefore, if causal priority were relevant to the question of ‘paradigmaticness,’ this criterion wouldn’t settle the question of which type of blame (private or public) is paradigmatic.

In any case, expressivists don’t see pubic blame as paradigmatic because of its neurocognitive profile, but rather, because of its role in a network of social relationships. Expressivists are still interested in neurocognitive states, but only as parts of persons embedded in ecological systems with other persons and mediating environmental factors. The primary locus of analysis is the relationship between people’s reactive attitudes, their interpersonal relationships, local epistemic resources, political systems, social institutions, and other extended networks. Since I, too, am interested in blame as part of a system of (asymmetric) relationships and institutions, I take public blame to be the paradigmatic case, noting that private blame is a salient causal mechanism in the minds of persons, and worthy of attention in this capacity. Still, my primary interest is the causal role of expressions of blame in our complex social reality.

If blame is paradigmatically expressive, as I think it is, then it is subject to some of the same success conditions as expressive communication in general. Most people think that there are better and worse ways of communicating. Just because we can express a thought doesn’t mean that we should. I could give a reckless driver the finger, but I would probably be better off signaling my disapproval in a less hostile way. Blame can also be confrontational and punitive, insofar as it involves criticism, and these types of expressive interactions are subject to additional constraints. In what follows, I will outline some of the key constraints on these types of interactions. They are: (1) intelligibility, (2) situational uptake, (3) safety and wellbeing, (4) semantic resonance, (5) privacy, (6) proportionality, and (7) cultural sensitivity.

  1. Constraints on blame

(1) Intelligibility

If blame is part of a communicative exchange, then it must be subject to conversational maxims that govern effective communication – namely, Gricean maxims. These are:

“(A) The maxim of quantity, [whereby] one tries to be as informative as one possibly can, and gives as much information as is needed, and no more; (B) The maxim of quality, [whereby] one tries to be truthful, and does not give information that is false or that is not supported by evidence; (C) The maxim of relation, [whereby] one tries to be relevant, and says things that are pertinent to the discussion; and (D) The maxim of manner, [whereby] one tries to be as clear, as brief, and as orderly as one can in what one says, and where one avoids obscurity and ambiguity” (UPenn.edu).

This is a descriptive account that outlines the norms that govern natural conversation; but people who depart from these maxims are less intelligible to conversational partners, meaning that the account has normative upshot: we should abide by Gricean maxims if we wish to be adequately intelligible. Notably, blame must be intelligible to effectively regulate social interactions: unintelligible expressions of blame are hardly more causally efficacious than private blame, and to the extent that they are causally efficacious, they are confusing, disruptive, frustrating, and polarizing (i.e., not functional). Blame, then, should conform to Gricean maxims (all things being equal). We should not express blame in ways that are: (A) uninformative, (B) untruthful, (C) irrelevant/ill-founded, or (D) confusing.

This means that some common blaming practices are suboptimal or prohibited, such as: (A) Giving someone ‘the silent treatment’ without  providing an explanation (uninformative); (B) Scapegoating innocent victims (untruthful); (C) Blaming people for their sexual preferences (‘slut-shaming’), their weight (e.g., ‘body-shaming’), and other morally-irrelevant traits (ill-founded); and (D) Blaming people in abusive and insulting terms, such as ‘stupid,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘crazy,’ which have no clear referent, and arguably no referent at all (confusing, misleading). Saying that someone is ‘crazy,’ for example, doesn’t direct attention to any discernable moral defect, and, since the term ‘crazy’ rests on a false, pathologizing narrative with gendered and racialized features, it appears to have no proper referent (Abramson 2014, Davis & Ernst 2017). This type of attribution is not only confusing, but confused and morally pernicious.

It’s worth noting that these constraints help functionalists escape standard objections to forward-looking theories of blame. Because successful blame respects Gricean maxims, there are inbuilt reasons not to blame innocent victims, even if doing so would prima facie advance some desired social end. The specter of victim-blaming is an objection to any forward-looking position, but expressivist accounts place restrictions on blame, rooted in intelligibility, social cohesion, and other social values (in my case, equality). Expressivism, then, is less susceptible to victim-blaming objections than many other forms of consequentialism. It’s also relatively immune to worries about gratuitous retributivism, since retribution is a condition of desert-based accounts, not functionalist accounts (though punishment could be a means to an end).

(2) Situational uptake

Even intelligible blame should not be expressed in every situation. Some intelligible (Gricean-maxim-respecting) expressions of blame cannot be grasped by the intended recipient due to situational constraints. While there may be agents who are globally unresponsive to blame – the primary candidate being psychopaths (viz., Levy 2007, Shoemaker 2011) – everyone is susceptible to situational sensitivity deficits.

Michael Smith (1995) presents an interesting example of someone afflicted by a (presumably) situational motivational deficit that prevents him from acting on his best judgment. This person (call him ‘Hostile’) cannot bring himself to shake the hand of his opponent (call her ‘Dejected’) after being badly trounced in a game of tennis. If he were to try to shake her hand, he would be compelled to smash her in the face with his racket in a fit of rage. Therefore, what Hostile ought to do, says Smith, is salute Dejected and walk off the court to cool down. (It seems that Hostile should also seek treatment for severe emotional dysregulation, as his response to losing a recreational sporting match indicates deeper emotional problems; but let’s say for the sake of argument that this is an uncharacteristic moment of rage). Hostile’s situational blame-insensitivity prima facie defeats Dejected’s reason to blame him (for suberogatory conduct, i.e., not being a good sport) while he is in that states of mind, since blaming him would only incite him to attack her. What she ought to do, then, is suspend blame until a more opportune time.

There are many situations in which people are temporarily unresponsive to otherwise intelligible blame. If, immediately after snubbing Dejected, Hostile had received a phone call informing him that his beloved mother had just passed away, this too would provide a reason for Dejected to suspend blame, seeing that Hostile is in no condition to respond. Any transient motivational deficit (grief, depression, anger) can provide a reason for the blamer to defer the expression of blame until a more uptake-conducive time.

On the other hand, if someone is consistently unresponsive to blame, then expressing resentment or censure toward the person precisely for having this character flaw could be justified. This response could signal to an audience that the person is morally incompetent and possibly dangerous. Flagging an unresponsive person to the community would satisfy conditions (i)-(v) relative to the community. Thus, in some cases, lack of sensitivity in the wrongdoer is not a reason to suspend blame, but rather, to express a blaming attitude (resentment, disapprobation) in public to flag the agent as a threat. (Consider the women who came forward to blame Harvey Weinstein, who is by all appearances unrepentant; their intention was patently not to enlighten the perpetrator, yet it would be odd to say that they were not, in any sense, blaming him).

 (3) Safety and wellbeing

As the previous example shows, it can be dangerous to express blame. Sometimes the danger comes from a hostile individual, and other times it comes from an oppressive political regime. In America, blaming an angry driver can result in a shooting. In North Korea, blaming the government is a death wish. Political dissidents in North Korea are imprisoned, tortured, and killed, and their children and grandchildren can be sentenced to intergenerational incarceration and torture. Some Americans, too, are unjustly incarcerated for their political activism, a notable example being Angela Davis (Davis 2016). In situations of imminent danger and political oppression, it may be reasonable to suppress blame for reasons of personal safety.

That said, suppressing blame for too long can undermine its regulatory force: silenced blame is private and politically inert, and blame could, in time, cease to exist even in the minds of the oppressed. (This seems to be a factor in North Korea, where people lack the epistemic resources to adequately frame their own political oppression, and do not seem to have a robust working concept of personal liberty [Kirby 2017]). The suppression of blame comes at a cost to the group: namely, it can damage the local social imaginary and moral ecology (viz., Medina 2013; Fricker 2007; Vargas 2013). Thus, while it may be reasonable to suppress public blame in the face of threats to personal safety and wellbeing, the value of survival must be weighed against the value of political activism. Angela Davis judged incarceration to be worth the price of speaking her mind, but her actions were arguably supererogatory as opposed to obligatory. North Koreans face much harsher penalties for political dissent. When someone’s survival is at stake, this may provide a compelling reason for the person to withhold blame, at least until the danger can mitigated.

Lack of uptake is another factor in North Korea: even if North Koreans protested the Kim regime, their speech would not receive significant uptake due to egregious political oppression. But if North Koreans could positively influence the regime, it’s not clear that they would have a duty, or even a strong reason, to do so at the expense of their lives and their family’s survival, and at risk of intergenerational torture.

 (4) Semantic resonance

There can also be constraints on the semantic content of blame, or the words used by the blamer. (This is related to intelligibility, but it specifically concerns the resonance of semantic contents). This aspect of blame is somewhat neglected in the literature. Scholars write extensively about the emotional and cognitive contents of blame, but say relatively little about its semantic contents. Word choice and word order, however, significantly mediate respondents’ receptivity to statement, whether moral or not. For example, when physicians framed a surgical intervention in two different ways, with the first group describing the surgical intervention as having a one-month survival rate of 90%, and the second group describing it as having one-month fatality rate of 10%, most patients (84%) in the first condition consented to the intervention, while only half of those in the second condition did the same (Kahneman 2011). The reason is that we respond more favorably to words like ‘survival’ than to words like ‘fatality.’ Similarly, respondents are more favorable to a ‘tax relief’ as opposed to a ‘tax cut,’ even if the proposed tax reduction is the same in both cases (Moscrop 2015). In other words, framing influences uptake. Successful blame, then, should avoid framing, priming, and word-order effects that undermine receptivity. For example, when blaming someone, we should avoid invoking gender and racial frameworks that promote inequality, such as “boys will be boys,” or “he’s a good boy” – language that relies on the myth of white male exceptionalism to systematically excuse white men. This language influences us to be less hostile to people who fit the favourable stereotype, and more hostile to those who do not.

The semantic content of blame also communicates relevant information about norm violations and character traits, and there are debates about what contents (aretaic or deontic) are admissible. McKenna (2018) maintains that blame can express different evaluative judgments – namely, judgments about norm violations (deontological judgments) and judgments about character flaws (aretaic judgments). He is neutral between these accounts – he thinks that we can blame people both for wrongful actions and for character failings, both for norm violations and for suberogatory actions. The unitary deontic view, says McKenna, doesn’t capture pervasive cases of blame, such as when we blame people for suberogatory actions that don’t violate any norms. To illustrate, if I snub my neighbour whenever she waves to me, I could be subject to (mild) blame on grounds of suberogatory conduct (being a bad neighbour). I’m not breaking a rule, but I’m exhibiting a character defect. It’s not clear why this would be an appropriate response in deontic terms, but the functionalist approach easily accommodates both types of judgment, since information about deontic properties and information about aretaic properties can be beneficial. Thus, both judgments have a place in our system of expressive relations. I can blame my neighbour for taking my designated parking spot (a norm violation) and for deliberately snubbing me (a character failing).

Another point of contention is whether people can be held responsible for actions over which they (putatively) have no control. In a debate between Manuel Vargas (2005) and J. M. Fischer (2011), Fischer argues that we cannot be responsible for uncontrollable mental states, whereas Vargas maintains that we can. My impression of this debate mirrors McKenna’s response to the deontological-aretaic divide: why not both? No one denies that it is permissible to blame people for norm violations over which they do have control, since blame in such cases is both putatively deserved (and thus justified on a desert framework), and putatively agency-enhancing (and thus justified on a forward-looking framework). Blaming people for uncontrollable character defects, in contrast, may not be ‘deserved’ if desert requires control, but it can easily be justified in functionalist terms, since it can serve positive ends such as (i) getting the attention of the blamee, (ii) conveying relevant information, (iii) persuade others, etc. Moreover, even if the transgressor is unresponsive to blame, publicly criticizing him could signal to the community that he is a threat, which could benefit vulnerable members of the community. Therefore, in functionalist terms, we can blame people both for controllable motivational deficits and uncontrollable ones.

That said, to be functionally justified, our blaming expressions should express judgments, words, phrases, and frameworks that facilitate intelligibility, pro-sociality, and other positive outcomes. That is, while various types of contents are admissible, we should choose our communicative vehicles with care, taking into account the likely consequences of our speech, particularly in light of pervasive epistemic injustice.

 (5) Privacy

Even if it is safe to express blame, it may be intrusive. Some philosophers hold that blame depends on an asymmetrical relation of authority between the blamer and the blamee. Blaming strangers, with whom we have no relationship, can seem intrusive (Darwall 2006). Macalister Bell (2013) argues that blame can be judiciously expressed outside of relationships of authority, provided that its expression serves a social purpose (e.g., motivating the transgressor, educating the community). That said, Bell retains a version of the privacy constraint, separated from the authority condition. On her view, we have independent reason to respect people’s privacy, insofar as they have a right to it. This preserves the intuition that it is better to blame people in privacy-respecting ways than in privacy-violating ways: for example, it’s better to accuse your spouse of adultery in private than to accuse him at his 40th birthday party in front of his family (all things being equal). The reason for exercising discretion is not that you don’t have the authority to blame your spouse at his birthday party – you might be within your moral rights to do so; rather, the reason is that infringing on someone’s privacy is a norm violation, and you should avoid committing norm violations in your blaming practice if you can. Ideally, we should blame people in ways that respect their rights.

That said, the duty to respect people’s privacy is defeasible, because not everyone has a right to privacy, or an equal right to equal privacy: people who pose a danger to the public arguably forfeit their right to privacy (e.g., serial sex offenders), as do public figures whose speech is on the public record (e.g., politicians’ Tweets, celebrities’ interviews). Hence, blame should be sensitive to privacy, but the right to privacy is not inviolable, equal between private citizens and public figures, or equal within these groups.

(6) Proportionality

If blame is to be persuasive, its semantic and affective contents should be proportional to the offense. (By semantic content, I am referring to the language used). Excessive blame tends to be unintelligible, confusing, and alienating. To give a famous example of semantically and emotionally excessive blame: Christian Bale blamed a sound technician for interrupting his scene during the filming of “Bat Man” by yelling at him. What Bale yelled was, “What the fuck is it with you? What don’t you fucking understand? You got any fucking idea about, hey, it’s fucking distracting having somebody walking up behind Bryce in the middle of the fucking scene? Give me a fucking answer!” (He continues like this (Telegraph transcript 2009). It’s pretty obvious that this wasn’t the most effective blaming response, the reason being that the emotions (rage) and the language (expletives) were too strong for the transgression. (Language and emotions are related because strong language often serves to convey strong emotions, but the two come apart: I can swear at someone unemotionally, and I can express strong emotions in polite language). Bale apologized (whether genuinely or not) in response to public scorn and ridicule. His transgression was excessively blaming someone for a benign infraction, which violates the proportionality constraint.

This isn’t to say that strong affect and language is always out of place. It’s simply to say that the language and emotional tenor of speech should fit the transgression. When it comes to systemic injustice, such as the cultural genocide perpetrated against Indigenous peoples, it’s difficult to imagine what could count as an “excessive” blaming response, short of violence. That said, the justifiable anger shared by oppressed groups can be misinterpreted by privileged people who are insensitive to the magnitude of the offense. Some people might respond better to a less emotional reaction. But this simply means that both types of response – emotional and unemotional – are fitting on different grounds. Indeed, these responses may be complementary, in that they serve different social purposes. (See articles on ‘tone policing’ (EF 2015) for more on why emotional responses to systemic injustice are valid and deserve social uptake).

Blame should thus be proportional to the offense, but our society tend to weigh offenses unfairly due to epistemic injustice, which results in the perverse marginalization of historically disenfranchised groups. Thus, we should be cautious to blame proportionally, and to interpret offenses in light of social injustice.


 (7) Context-appropriateness

Blame can also convey context-inappropriate emotions and judgments. Christian Bale’s rage, for example, was less suitable than mild irritation for that particular context, whereas mild irritation is an inappropriate response to cultural genocide. Blame’s emotional and cognitive contents should fit the situation, in addition to being proportional to the offense. The situation, then, places constraints on fitting blame.

Theorists debate whether some emotional contents may be categorically inappropriate, because they incite anti-sociality and social discord. Examples of potentially polarizing emotions include ridicule, anger, and contempt. We see these emotions on display in the public sphere, particularly in late-night talk shows. For example, Stephen Colbert regularly ridicules Donald Trump. When Trump tweeted that he had to “deal with fool[s]” like Bob Corker in the White House, Colbert responded that Trump’s real problem is “a crippling disease of Narcissistic Personality Disorder… ‘allegedly”” (Shapiro 2017). This criticism was, of course, unlikely to receive uptake from Trump or his base, but it was eminently well received by Colbert’s audience. Could Colbert’s public contempt for Trump promote positive social consequences? I think so. There is evidence that (a) ridicule “has significant potential to mobilize public interest constituencies, and to raise the consciousness of members of the public who might not otherwise be attuned to conventional policy discourse” (Grobosky 2013); that (b) anger is effective at motivating prosocial behaviour (Prinz & Nichols 2010), and that (c) contempt can consolidate in-group members and motivate transgressors to conform to community norms (Fischer & Giner-Sorolla 2016). These emotions, then, can promote moral ends. Even if these emotions are not always appropriate, they surely are not categorically harmful. Thus, in the right situations, these emotions can be apt contents of blame.


 (8) Cultural sensitivity

Cultural relativists, like Gilbert Harman (1996) and David B. Wong (1995, 2009), say that we can only express blame intra-culturally, not across cultures. Hence, I cannot blame people for committing non-consensual clitoridectomies on girls in non-Western cultures, or (perhaps) even in non-Western subcultures embedded in my own culture. Most theorists don’t agree with this position, for theoretical and practical reasons. In practical terms, relativism seems to promote cultural isolationism, and in theoretical terms, it fails to make sense of moral cross-cultural contamination – the sharing of moral knowledge across cultures, which is ubiquitous. Donald Davidson’s triangulation theory (1982) speaks against the very possibility of deep cultural relativism, or the idea that we can’t understand out-group beliefs and values (viz., Claudine & Myers 2018). Ultimately, there is no good reason to think that we can never blame members of other cultures in terms that are intelligible to them; and even if we couldn’t, it wouldn’t follow that we can’t blame out-group members for in-group purposes, such as to signal that certain practices (like female genital mutilation) are categorically unacceptable within our own culture.

Having said that, there is every reason to think that cross-cultural blaming judgments can be ignorant, condescending, oppressive, and otherwise epistemically and morally ignorant, seeing that blame has historically functioned to dehumanize perceived out-group members, and it still serves to oppress marginalized groups. This is seen, for example, in the representation of Asian Americans as a ‘model minority’ – a cultural stereotype that serves to ‘other’ and homogenize the target group (Chou et al. 2015).

Nonetheless, it can be appropriate to blame members of other cultures in culturally-sensitive ways. This requires having familiarity with the target culture. Familiarity comes in degrees: someone who grew up in a given culture is likely to be more sensitive to the culture’s norms and practices than an outsider, but we can gain sensitivity to a culture’s norms and practices through familiarity with insiders and their epistemic products. Thus, it is possible to aptly blame members of other cultures if we cultivate adequate sensitivity. This constraint offers protection against familiar ethnocentric biases in our intergroup blaming practices.

  1. Final comments: Equality and coalescence

Blame, as I have described it, is a paradigmatically expressive practice, governed by communicative norms of intelligibility, uptake, and semantic resonance. Blame is not just any type of expressive practice, though; it can be antagonistic, intrusive, hostile, and punitive, and as a result, it is also properly governed by norms of safety and wellbeing, privacy, and proportionality. Finally, since blame often punishes people on ethnocentric and xenophobic grounds, it should be governed by an attitude of cultural sensitivity.

I want make an important qualification before closing. Although blame is often hostile, and is in fact described by Macalister Bell (2013) as paradigmatically hostile, I prefer to think of it as essentially argumentative or dissensual. Blame, in essence, identifies and responds to a moral transgression or character flaw, and thus contains or expresses criticism, but it does not follow that blame essentially contains or expresses hostility. While we often think of argumentation itself as hostile, many arguments are merely dissensual, and either unemotional or emotionally positive. Arguments are often deployed in a spirit of epistemic respect and earnest curiosity, as argumentation theorists have argued at some length. Indeed, while arguments are essentially dissensual, they also essentially function to promote coalescence, or agreement based on shared goals, according the preeminent argumentation scholar Michael Gilbert (2013). That is, although argumentation is dissensual by its very nature, it ideally promotes agreement. I concur with Gilbert that argument paradigmatically functions to foster coalescence between argumentative partners, but I would add that, in order to serve this end, there must be an even playing field between argumentative partners – that is, there must be relational equality. Analogously, I think that the paradigmatic role of blame in our system of moral relationships is to foster coalescence around our shared moral goals, through a process of argumentation in conditions of epistemic justice. For this process to obtain, we must repair rifts, exclusions, and marginalizations in our moral ecology. Ideally, blame functions to foster coalescence through a system of equal relationships. By enhancing equality, we enhance our chances of virtuous or morally responsible coalescence.

The project of repairing our moral relationships goes hand in hand with the project of trying to observe the constraints on blame identified here. To limit the risk of blame fetishism, we should observe conditions (i)-(vi), as well as conditions (1)-(8). By doing this, we increase the chances that our blaming attitudes will hit their mark, i.e., the morally salient qualities of persons.


(Really good book, by the way).


Can children be responsible agents? (tl;dr: No).

Philosophers tend to see young children as paradigmatic cases of non-responsible agents. Strawson, for example, says that very young children are non-responsible, but older children as “penumbral” cases, as they are acquiring the capacity for responsibility (1963). Strawson also cites people with severe mental disorders as paradigmatically non-responsible. These two types of agent reside in a sphere outside of the reactive attitudes (blame, praise).

In my contribution to the Bloomsbury Companion to Philosophy of Psychiatry, I argued that people with mental disorders are not, in fact, non-responsible, contrary to the received philosophical wisdom. Indeed, seeing psychiatric service users are non-responsible is incompatible with the dominant model of therapeutic treatment, the person-centered model, on which service users are treated as presumptively capable of exercising responsibility over their treatment-relevant choices, as well as a non-trivial range of non-therapeutic choices (Rogers 1986). Why have many philosophers, then, seen service users (‘the insane’) as non-responsible? One likely explanation is culture-wide implicit bias against persons with psychological disorders. (Strawson wrote his seminal work in the 1960s, remember). Another likely reason, I believe, is the tendency to see responsibility (tacitly, perhaps) as a modular capacity rather than a complex suite of capacities involving many cognitive processes distributed across the brain. On the modular view, moral processing is similar to colour processing, which involves a small constellation of cortical regions, where damage to any one can severely impair the perception of colour.

On the complex-capacity model of responsibility, a person can lack one of the capacities paradigmatically implicated in responsible agency (e.g., perspective-taking), but posses many others (e.g., self-efficacy). Consider two cases that have received much philosophical scrutiny (e.g., Jeanette Kennett 2002): psychopaths and people with autism spectrum disorder (ASD). Both groups share deficits in empathic processing and traits of alexithymia (the inability to describe emotions in the self), but psychopaths have difficulty resonating with others’ emotions, whereas people with ASD have difficulty with cognitive perspective-taking and emotional recognition, and not vice versa (Morosan et al. 2017; Lockwood et al. 2013). On the basis of these cognitive profiles, we can infer that people with ASD may be forgiven for failing to register someone’s emotional distress, but not for failing to care about a person’s emotional distress once registered, since ASD impairs the first capacity (emotional recognition) but not the latter (resonating with emotions). Psychopaths, meanwhile, have much more severe moral deficits – they register distress in others, but do not care about it. This raises the legitimate question of whether psychopaths are morally responsible agents in any non-trivial sense. Aside from the psychopathic population (which is responsible for a vastly disproportionate amount of crimes according to the author of the Psychopathy Checklist PCL-R, Robert Hare), persons with psychological disorders across all DSM-5 categories possess many of the paradigmatic capacities implicated in responsibility. In general, deficits in responsible agency are local and highly specific, not global, and acquired deficits may be responsive to therapeutic interventions. Thus, it makes sense to hold people with psychological disorders responsible for actions not impaired by those disorders.

Young children are a different case because they have deficits in all responsibility-relevant capacities, as they are not fully cognitively developed. This has led some people to jokingly observe that “all children are little sociopaths.” But children really do have morally-relevant cognitive deficits, including theory-of-mind deficits (Wellman et al. 2001), perspective-taking deficits, and planned problem-solving deficits (Tecwyn et al. 2014). That said, children have different capacities depending on their age, cognitive architecture, and learning environment. Does this mean that children are quasi-responsible?

I am inclined to say that young children, unlike adults with domain-specific cognitive deficits, are not responsible, full stop. Of course, at some indeterminate point, children become responsible, but young children, in my view, are non-responsible. When we blame and praise children, we are, I believe, using operant conditioning to shape children’s cognitive architecture to discriminate different moral stimuli and respond sensitively to discriminable stimuli in the future and across various contexts. Young children unquestionably possess the neurological states required to respond to conditioning (e.g., nucleus basalis neurons and dopamine receptors). Even non-human animals possess these states, which is why they are capable of learning conditioned responses.

There is another critical element to this picture, however. Once children begin to develop the neural correlates of moral responsibility (over and above the neural structures implicated in conditioned learning), they still are not responsible for their behaviour on my view, because they are not responsible for the acquisition (or not) of these higher-order neural structures. Their caretakers are responsible for conditioning them to respond sensitively to moral stimuli, thereby acquiring adult moral capacities. If children grow up with deficit in moral cognition due to caretaker neglect, this is their caretaker’s fault. (The correct specification of ‘caretaker’ is complicated, but for my purposes, it can be seen as encompassing anyone responsible for the child’s wellbeing). Thus, children are not responsible for their behaviour even if they possess some morally-relevant capacities, because any non-congenital deficits in their cognitive architecture are their caretakers’ fault, and any congenital deficits are the result of the natural lottery, i.e., not their fault. So, if a child, say, burns down a bee farm, bankrupting the owners and killing half-a-million bees, the caretakers are responsible, not the child. The caretakers are responsible to pay restitution, and are also the correct targets of moral blame.

The reason children are not responsible for their behaviour when adults with equivalent cognitive deficits are, is that children’s are not autonomous: they are under their caretakers’ directorship. Children cannot autonomously choose their learning environment, peer group, school – the salient features of their ‘moral ecology,’ so to speak (Vargas 2016), whereas adults (in a pluralistic democratic state) can choose one moral ecology over another. Because children lack autonomy vis-a-vis their moral ecology, they lack responsibility for their actions, even if they have many of the neural structures implicated in the capacity for moral responsibility. In other words, if child C and adult A have similar responsibility deficits D, child C will not be responsible for moral infractions caused by D, whereas adult A may be responsible moral infractions caused by D (depending on other conditions, such as whether A could have taken steps to remediate D or prevent the transgression by other means). Thus, even if C and A are cognitively identical, their responsibility status differs due to different background conditions.

It is only once children have autonomy comparable to most adults that they become responsible.

Similar considerations apply to adults – namely, adults can be differentially responsible depending on their access to different moral ecologies. (For a full argument to this effect, see Ciurria 2016 in the Journal of the APA). Yet, the differences amongst adults will be a matter of degree, not of kind; while adult P may be less responsible than adult Q for moral infraction I when P and Q have identical cognitive architectures but differential access to agency-enhancing moral ecologies, child C is not responsible for I across all moral ecologies. Unlike children, no cognitively-normal adult is non-responsible by virtue of ecological deprivation, because all societies include a non-trivial amount of cultural pluralism (with the possible exception of North Korea). In America, there is extensive pluralism, so no adult can escape blame (or praise) by saying that she couldn’t have done otherwise.

Thank you for reading my post.



Blame as social cognition: The Path Model

Tl;rd: Malle, Gugliemo, and Monroe (2014) offer the Path Model as a representation of the cognitive architecture of blame. On the Path Model, blaming cognition involves information-processing over criterial information in a paradigmatic sequence of steps. This sequence is based on subjects’ responses to surveys. Malle et al. say that biases and affect, which are not represented on the model, do not play a ‘paradigmatic role’ in blaming cognition. In this post, I contend that these states do play a paradigmatic role in the blaming architecture of some people, particularly those high in implicit bias and low in emotional regulation. This is an expectable result of living in conditions of socioeconomic inequality, which give rise to implicit bias. Subjects’ responses to surveys reveal their explicit reasoning, not their underlying information-processing sequence, so these responses have no bearing at all on whether blaming cognition is, in general, paradigmatically irrational, i.e., rooted in criteria-irrelevant inputs such as implicit bias and affect.

  1. Introduction

Much has been written on the nature, norms, conditions, and psychology of blame, but until recently there were no neurocognitive models of this capacity. Malle, Guglielmo, and Monroe (2014)[1] have filled this gap by offering a compelling model of the cognitive architecture of blame, which they define as a moral-social judgment that regulates social behaviour. This definition of blame is consistent with Strawsonian (interpersonal, functionalist) theories of blame defended by the likes of Michael McKenna (2012), Victoria McGeer (2013), Macalaster Bell (2013), and Angela Smith (2013). The Path Model (henceforth, Path for short) is therefore a fruitful point of entry for thinking about the cognitive architecture of blame, and for considering whether an information-processing model accurately maps the neurocognitive processes involved in blaming.

The model is called Path because it identifies hierarchically-structured information-processing pathways that play a role in paradigmatic blaming judgments. On Path, blamers typically (1) detect a norm-violating event E, (2) evaluate E for agent causation (versus object causation), (3) evaluate whether E was intentional, and then investigate (4a) the agent’s reasons for causing the event (if E was intentional), or (4b) the agent’s obligation to have prevented E from occurring, and (4c) the agent’s capacity to have prevented E from occurring (if E was unintentional). These inputs give rise to a dichotomous yes-or-no or a scalar more-or-less judgment of blame, depending on the informational inputs. This sequence is represented in the graph below:




Path is supported by evidence that ordinary judgments of blame involve the processing of criterial information concerning agent causation, intentionality, reasons, obligation, and capacity, in the suggested sequential order. Path allows that the criterial information can be processed quickly and automatically, or slowly and reflectively, but in either case it follows the same sequence.

Path has elicited various criticisms, including that it does not sufficiently explain judgments of transgression severity, it involves overly-stringent criteria, its classification of morally-eligible agents is too narrow (because it excludes non-human animals), it too quickly discounts blame-first models on which blame is typically fast and automatic as opposed to slow and deliberate (Goodwin 2014), it treats victim-blaming as rational, and (relatedly) it omits the role of ideology and motivated cognition in blaming (Niemi & Young 2014). These criticisms can perhaps be accommodated by the stipulation that Path represents paradigmatic blaming cognition, not every type of blaming response. Yet research shows that victim-blaming is fairly common, calling into question whether Path’s criterial information-processing sequence is, indeed, typical.

In this paper, I build on these criticisms by highlighting likely causal pathways for two ‘extra-evidential’ (i.e., criteria-irrelevant) inputs into the Path system: implicit bias and implicit affect. These causal factors, I argue, tend to drive information-processing down the ‘wrong’ pathways – that is, pathways unsupported by, and contrary to, objective evidence – giving rise to irrational (criteria-irrelevant) blaming judgments. I also argue that implicit states may preempt irrational blaming judgments non-sequentially (bypassing all sequential information-processing), and these ‘blame-first’ responses may be quite common, depending on the individual’s cognitive architecture and the saliency of triggers. (Different people have different levels of implicit bias, and implicit biases are activated in response to triggers such as visible demographic attributes). The characteristic role of implicit bias and implicit affect in the Path system, I argue, is to generate irrational blaming judgments, and these judgments are more common than the un-amended Path Model suggests. The idea that irrational blame is common is supported by the fact that implicit bias and implicit affect play a substantive role in social cognition (Nosek et al. 2011; Danziger et al. 2010) – for example, mediating mirror neuron activation and mimicry (Gallese et al. 2004), empathy (Mathur et al. 2014), and prosocial behaviour (Stepanikova et al. 2011). Implicit bias and implicit affect typically conflict with the agent’s explicit and rational beliefs.

The claim that we often, and perhaps paradigmatically, blame people irrationally is hardly surprising, given that (1) we live in conditions of inequality in which most people have implicit biases that track stereotypical representations of historically disenfranchised groups (women, African Americans, sexual minorities, etc.); (2) these biases mediate social cognition (Nosek et al. 2011); and (3) implicit affect mediates judgments of guilt (e.g., Danziger et al. 2010). By mapping these implicit inputs onto the Path system, we gain insight into the characteristic distorting role of implicit states in standard blaming cognition, embedded in conditions of inequality.

In what follows, I outline Malle, Guglielmo, and Monroe’s defense of Path, including important caveats that they make (section 2); I show how implicit biases can distort sequential reasoning at the ‘capacity,’ ‘obligation,’ and ‘reason’ stage of information processing (section 3); I show that affect can generate distorted judgments of blame and proportionality (section 4); I argue that implicit states can potentially trigger non-sequential (blame-first) judgments, making these judgments less computationally taxing over time, and thus more habitual (section 5); I argue that Path represents explicit moral reasoning, which does not track computational processing in neural systems – processing that may include implicit and criteria-irrelevant inputs (section 6); and I contend that, because Path does not chart the role of implicit bias in blaming cognition, it more closely reflects the paradigmatic blaming cognition of our early evolutionary ancestors (who enjoyed relatively egalitarian conditions), as opposed to modern-day humans who inhabit conditions of extreme inequality (section 7). Charting implicit states on the Path Model provides, I believe, a more accurate representation of our (largely irrational) blaming practices.

  1. Path: clarifications and caveats

It would be wrong to say that Malle et. al. deny that affect and implicit bias play any role in blaming cognition. Although they do not mention implicit bias, they admit that Path is incomplete in various ways, including that it does not show “the role and impact of affect on the information-processing chain” (177). They grant that affect is a mediating factor that “signals [the] seriousness” of the response (171) and potentially “amplifies” moral judgments (166). Psychopaths and patients with lesions in their ventromedial prefrontal cortex (resulting in ‘acquired psychopathy’) can recognize wrongdoing, but do not care about it (153). These agents cannot blame others interpersonally, because they merely impartially register that wrongdoing has been done; they do not engage in interpersonal, regulatory blaming. The authors emphasize that paradigmatic blame is not merely a private judgment, but a social interaction that serves to regulate social behaviour (149). Affect, then, plays a role in blaming cognition in neurotypical humans.

That said, Path favours “thought over emotional intensity” (171), in part because intense emotions tend to produce “less paradigmatic” blaming responses, such as yelling and personal attacks, as opposed to “more paradigmatic” blaming responses, such as rebuking, reproaching, and accusing (171). “Paradigmatic blame” is picked out by subjects’ pretheoretical intuitions about the “social acceptability” and “similarly to blame” of various moral criticisms; the most paradigmatic cases are “rational, calm, [and] constructive criticism” (171). This is why Path shows only criterial information – it charts the sequential decision-making processes involved in explicit moral reasoning. Non-criterial inputs and non-conscious processes are not figured in the diagram.

In addition to allowing that affect can play a limited role in blame, Malle et al. admit that biases can also play a limited role in blame, seeing that human judgment is “defeasible,” “fallible,” and influenced by emotion, motivation, and context (152). That said, the authors reject influential theories that purport to show that biases characteristically distort sequential reasoning; for instance, ‘outcome bias,’ in which worse action-outcomes bias blamers in favour of harsher judgments, and ‘character bias,’ in which dislikable character traits bias blamers in favour of harsher jugdments, are rejected in favour of the explanation that subjects infer that worse outcomes and character flaws are caused by negligence and extreme motives in the wrongdoer’s intentions, which is an ‘evidential’ (criteria-relevant) input at the ‘intentionality’ stage of the path sequence, not an ‘extra-evidential’ input (161). Hence, these putative biases are not biases at all, but criteria-relevant inputs that support the blaming judgment. This revisionary interpretation supports the view that blaming judgments are typically produced by the sequential processing of criteria-relevant information. Thus, these judgments are ‘rational’ in the sense that they are supported by evidence internal to the blaming system – evidence that inductively supports the judgment.

That said, Malle et al. allow that biases can enter the Path Model, albeit under special circumstances, particularly conditions that favour parsimonious computation. Blamers tend to make parsimonious inferences that minimize computational load under pressure, and these inferences are inappropriate if the value of parsimony is given more weight than the value of sufficient information and inferential accuracy. Sometimes, too, people rely on heuristics or ‘preset values’ activated by existing knowledge structures to generate fast, computationally simple blaming judgment. If these heuristics are unreliable or criteria-irrelevant, they may give rise to biased judgments. The use of heuristics is sometimes necessary due to situational pressures, but heuristics do not, according to Malle et al., play a characteristic role in blaming cognition.

As noted above, Path is impartial about whether information processing is conscious or unconscious, automatic or controlled. While some processes may be deliberate, others are automatic. For example, upon witnessing a bank robbery, I might automatically judge that the robber is blameworthy, because the relevant information (re. agent causation, intentionality, etc.) is readily available and the needed inferences are computationally simple. Ambiguous cases, by contrast, involve slower and more deliberate computational processing. (Was the bank robber acting voluntarily or under duress? If I am not sure, I will explicitly reflect on the ‘intentionality’ criterion). Automatic processing still follows the path sequence, but this method is more prone to error.

Malle et al. also admit that intuitions can play a role in the path system, in much the same way that heuristics can. For example, people are highly sensitive to the perception of negative events, which activates attention and linguistic centers, giving rise to rapid evaluative responses, (i.e., intuitions) (153). These intuitions ‘code’ the negative event as particularly serious. Intuitions, then, enter the path system at the ‘event detection’ stage, generating a stronger downstream judgment of blame. Malle et al. reject that idea that intuitions can produce paradigmatic blaming judgments on their own, independent of the information-processing stages, in opposition to Haidt’s ‘social intuitionist model,’ which holds that moral judgments are typically direct and non-sequential (2001). In section 4, I will argue that Malle et al. give us no good reason to think that criterial information-processing is a paradigmatic case of blaming cognition.

Although Malle et al. reject the social intuition model, Path does allow for intuitions, emotions, and biases to enter the path system when the context favours parsimonious computation. These allowances somewhat insulate the model from the obvious criticism that it is ‘too rational’; the authors can simply respond that it is incomplete, and criteria-irrelevant inputs (e.g., affect) are recognized as mediating factors, even if they are not ‘paradigmatic’ causes of blame.

The rationality objection is also amenable to the reply that Path models “information integration,” “not rationality constraints” (Malle et al. 2014: 177); the rationality objection is, in effect, a category mistake. To this, one can object that the integration of information can still generate irrational judgments, if the informational content misrepresents the world, driving informational processing down the (objectively) wrong pathway(s). For instance, if the blamer incorrectly perceives an agent as having an obligation to prevent a norm violation, the encoding of incorrect information at the ‘obligation’ stage will drive information-processing down the wrong pathway, to the ‘capacity’ stage, instead of generating a ‘no/low blame’ judgment. The role of distorting inputs can give rise to false and oppressive blaming habits, particularly when these inputs are implicit. This is not to say that the sequences in Path are out of order, but it is to say that non-evidential information – which does not provide a reason to blame – enters the Path system at various criterial stages and diverts information-processing down the objectively wrong pathways.

Although the final blaming judgment is supported by information internal to the system, the judgment is still irrational in the sense that it misrepresents its objects (salient events, capacities, obligations, etc.), and in the sense that it conflicts with the blamer’s practical commitments and explicit beliefs, such as the commitment to judge people on the basis of relevant criteria, to successfully navigating social relationships, and so on. (Implicit biases, notaby, conflict with the agent’s explicit beliefs by their very nature). A mismatch between (1) a judgment and the world, and/or (2) a judgment and the agent’s other beliefs and commitments, renders a judgment irrational on many theories of rationality (e.g., Brogaard 2014). It is plausible, then, to think that blaming judgments based on non-criterial inputs are irrational. Even though the judgment arises from sequential processing over criterial information (in some cases), the role of criteria-irrelevant implicit inputs drives sequential processing down the wrong pathways, giving rise to substantively irrational judgments. To illustrate: if I judge a person to be blameworthy due to implicit racial bias in my cognitive architecture, I blame the person on the basis of criteria-irrelevant content (racial bias), which I process as if it were relevant to one or more criterial stage(s).

Whether irrational blaming judgments are common is a substantive empirical question. I will argue that social psychology research and evolutionary psychology support the view that irrational blame is fairly common in our society, although blaming habits differ from one person to another.

In the next section, I will outline like points of entry for implicit biases in the Path system. If we chart these inputs on the Path Model, we shed light on the myriad ways in which blaming cognition can go wrong. This in turn helps to explain the pervasiveness of irrational blaming in our culture. For brevity, I will focus on only three criterial stages: capacity, obligations, and reasons.

  1. Criteria-irrelevant implicit biases

3.1. Capacity

‘Capacity’ in the Path Model refers to the capacity to prevent negative outcomes. Malle et al. give a few examples of this stage in the path sequence. First, they say that obesity, if caused by an uncontrollable medical condition, is perceived as not blameworthy (Weiner 1995, cited in Malle et al. 2014: 155). Second, if a “rape victim” is perceived as having been capable of taking precautions to avoid rape, she is deemed blameworthy (Davis et al. 1996, cited in Malle et al. 2014: 155). Third, if a driver’s capacity to have taken a different course of action is made salient, the driver is seen as blameworthy for causing a subsequent accident. In each case, if the capacity condition is met (e.g., if the obesity is controllable), the person is judged ‘blameworthy/high in blameworthiness.’

It is telling that two out of three of the prototypical judgments made by respondents are putatively biased. Contemporary feminists like Roxane Gay (2017) would say that obesity is not a moral failing; rather, the perception of obesity as a moral failing is motivated by weight bias – in many cases, implicit weight bias, which is as common as implicit racial bias (i.e., pervasive) (Skinner et al. 2017; KISRE 2015). Implicit weight bias can give rise to the false perception that people can and should exercise the capacity to avoid getting fat, although no such obligation exists, and it is far from clear that such a capacity exists in ordinary people (according to Gay). Implicit weight bias is not relevant to the ‘capacity’ criterion, but it drives information-processing down the ‘capacity’ path to a ‘blame’ judgment. This judgment is unwarranted (albeit supported by false criterial beliefs), in that it misrepresents the obligations and capacities of its target, and it conflicts with the explicit beliefs of the blamer (about her motivational profile and values).

Alternately, the critical mistake may have occurred at the ‘event detection’ stage, where the event (being fat) was coded as morally significant as opposed to morally irrelevant, triggering information-processing over the (objectively irrelevant) criterial stages of ‘agent causality,’ ‘intentionality,’ ‘obligation,’ and ‘capacity.’ Implicit bias likely triggers incorrect processing all the way down the line, with the misperception of the event injecting false information into the system.

Notably, if the blamer were to explain her judgment to another person, she would only have access to the explicit informational contents of her cognitive judgment, not the implicit content – the implicit bias. Hence, she would have no choice but to offer an incomplete explanation of her judgment, as opposed to explicating the salient causal mechanisms. If implicit states play a paradigmatic role in blaming cognition, then people’s self-reports of their information-processing sequence will typically omit salient mechanisms. In some cases, blamers will confabulate criterial explanations. For instance, when people discriminate against overweight people, they tend to invoke false criteria-relevant information in defense of their judgments e.g., the person was ‘incompetent’ (Levine et al. 2015). The criterial information misrepresents the agent’s qualities.

Malle et al. hold that in order to blame people, we must have “access to the informational basis of [our] blame judgments” (149). Prima facie, this seems to suggest that we must have access to the causal mechanisms that produce our blaming judgments, but this can’t be right, since those mechanisms can be implicit and unavailable to consciousness. Thus, ‘real’ blaming judgments include post hoc rationalizations and confabulations, completely detached from causally salient information-processing mechanisms. Confabulatory blaming judgments, moreover, are public, social, and regulatory in nature (although they have negative social consequences), so they function in much the same way as criteria-relevant blaming judgments – via the exchange of reasons generated via (implicit and explicit) processes of social cognition. Judgments induced by implicit bias, then, are legitimate, albeit substantively irrational, cases of blame.

Similar considerations apply to the blaming of the rape victim: the view that a person can proactively prevent rape is false and mediated by implicit biases. Men shown videos with high levels of female sexual objectification exhibit high implicit rape-myth acceptance, and also tend to excuse the rapist and blame the victim when asked to respond to a hypothetical rape scenario (Melina & Sandra 2012). The likely explanation is that the activated implicit states generate a false judgment about the capacity of the rape victim (to avoid getting raped), or a false judgment about the cause of the event (the victim’s behaviour). The salient cause of the judgment is, unbeknownst to the respondent, implicit rape-myth acceptance. This implicit state is criteria-irrelevant, but it generates a false criterial belief, giving rise to an irrational downstream blaming judgment. The researchers see this as a real, but biased, case of blame, which I think is the best (functional) explanation, since the blaming response is generated by social cognition and overtly expressed.

Implicit racial bias can also influence processing at the ‘capacity’ stage. Research shows that adults view Black girls as less innocent and more adult-like than white girls, resulting in more frequent and severe punishments in schools and the juvenile justice system (Epstein et al. 2015). Excessive and unnecessary blaming judgments about Black girls tend to be activated by implicit racial bias. This can result in the incorrect perception that Black girls are capable of preventing negative outcomes, because Black girls are seen as having capacities similar to adults. Biased blamers, then, may process information incorrectly at the ‘capacity’ stage due to activated implicit racial bias. This gives rise to false and excessively harsh blame directed toward Black girls.

Notably, implicit biases are difficult to mitigate or extinguish, in part because they are automatic and implicit reactions to salient demographic attributes and situational cues. They are, on one model, akin to habits, which are enduring because they are only partially cognitively penetrable (Devine 1989; Devine et al. 2012; Horoyd 2012). On dual systems theory, implicit biases are part of the fast, implicit processing system, which is “highly contextual and only changes in an enduring way after considerable time, effort, and/or intensity of experience” (Devine et al. 2012: 1268). Remediating interventions can be effective, but only if the agent is motivated to learn about activating contexts and committed to practicing self-regulation (ibid.). It is reasonable to infer that, when implicit biases enter the path system, driving informational processing down the same incorrect pathway(s) over and over in response to triggers, those connections become less computationally taxing and more accessible. Thus, the processing sequence becomes a habitual response, forming a ‘paradigmatic’ processing pattern. In people high in implicit bias, then, paradigmatic blaming responses may be habitual patterns, triggered by the saliency of implicit biases and well-worn pathways in response to frequently-encountered triggers.

3.2. Obligation

‘Obligation’ in Path refers to an obligation to have prevented a norm-violating event. We have already seen examples of processing over (false) obligation information, leading to irrational blaming judgments (e.g., of fat people). There are many other examples of obligation misperceptions. To give just one: most people assumed that wives had an obligation to have sex with their husbands until at least the late 1980s, when marital rape was finally criminalized in most (but not all) states. The tendency to blame spousal rape victims is mediated by implicit rape-myth acceptance and implicit gender bias (Grubb & Turner 2012). Thus, people who used to blame wives for spousal rape on the basis of misperceptions of obligation and capacity – for example, the misperception that wives have a duty to sexually gratify their husbands, and that doing so will prevent spousal rape – are irrationally blaming on the basis of implicit bias. This blaming response was culturally normative, revealing that irrational judgments can be paradigmatic. To this day, there is pervasive ignorance about consent and the culpability of rapists.

3.3. Reasons

‘Reasons’ refers to an agent’s reasons for acting. Processing at this stage can also be distorted by implicit bias. To give an example, African American men face harsher sentences than white men for the same federal crimes, controlling for criminal history, age, education, and citizenship (Pryor Jr. et al. 2017). By contrast, we tend to see adult white men as younger and more innocent than they really are (Fang 2017). What accounts for this discrepancy? A likely explanation is that judges are more likely to impute guilty intentions (mens rea) to Black men, and thus to encode false information at the ‘reasons’ stage. Implicit racial bias, then, can enter blaming cognition at the ‘reasons’ stage, producing false and excessively harsh blaming judgments toward Black men.

Once again, only the criterial information is introspectively available to the blamer, so the blamer’s explanation will not track the judgment’s underlying causal mechanisms (implicit racial bias). In people high in implicit racial bias, irrational blaming responses may be habitual response patterns. These blaming patterns are irrational, but an entrenched part of the blaming system.

3.4. Intermediary conclusions

Charting the likely role of implicit biases in blaming cognition illustrates that blaming judgments can be irrational just in case they misrepresent their object and/or conflict with the blamer’s practical commitments and explicit beliefs. But this does not yet show that blaming judgments are paradigmatically irrational in general. Admittedly, it is difficult to quantify the role of implicit bias in blaming cognition in the general population, especially given that implicit states interact with each person’s broader cognitive architecture and cultural factors, resulting in significant intersubjective differences. That said, most white people score positively for implicit bias on implicit association tests, and there is evidence that implicit biases are valid and predictive constructs that give rise to measurable prejudice effects (Greenwald et al. 1995; Green et al. 2007; Bertrand & Mullainathan 2004). Importantly, however, the strength and saliency of implicit biases depends on the agent’s cognitive profile and environment. The most that we can say is that for many people, when triggers are salient, the ‘paradigmatic blaming judgment’ will be an irrational one. This is a more nuanced view of the ‘paradigmatic’ operation of the blaming system than the idealized information-processing view, which only charts explicit beliefs. Our implicit states, informed by cultural norms, can be much darker than our explicit value judgments.

We cannot reasonably say that blaming judgments must provide accurate explanations of the information-processing sequence involved in blaming, since, even on the Path Model, these processes can be implicit, automatic, and unavailable to consciousness. Thus, blaming responses that involve confabulations, post hoc rationalizations, and other misrepresentations, must be seen as genuine blame. (The alternative would be to say that we can never know when anyone is blaming anyone). Moreover, confabulatory blaming responses satisfy the conditions of being public, social, and regulatory, even though they do not promote the goals of social cohesion and trust.

  1. Criteria-irrelevant affective states

Affective states also play a characteristic role in blaming cognition, and while this role is not always distorting – indeed, affect is likely required to code transgressions as morally salient, as Malle et al. admit – it often plays a distorting role, particularly when the affective input is implicit.

We can see this in judicial decision-making, at the stage of judging whether the defendant is culpable, and at the stage of determining sentencing. As Terry Maroney observes, affective mediation is:

observed both when the juror’s emotion is integral to the case—that is, prompted by case-relevant information, such as gruesome testimony about a victim’s injuries—[and] incidental to the case—that is, prompted by information extrinsic to the juror’s judgment task, such as anger at a fellow juror for rude behavior, anxiety over being pulled away from work and home obligations, or disgust with unsanitary courtroom conditions” (Feigenson 2010:52).

In the second case (incidental causes), the affective input is criteria-irrelevant, but gives rise to an overt judgment of culpability. When a juror, for instance, judges a defendant guilty (or especially guilty) due to anger toward another juror, the affective input is irrelevant to the obligations, capacities, or reasons of the defendant, but that input is causally efficacious nonetheless. Research shows that mock jurors primed with anger cues are likely to judge the defendant with more certainty, are less likely to evaluate evidence systematically, are more likely to rely on heuristics, and they tend to consider less information when coming to a decision (Tiedens and Linton, 2001; Lerner, Goldberg, & Tetlock, 1998). In some cases, anger may activate mediating heuristics. For instance, anger may trigger the use of a representative heuristic – a common decision-making short-cut – inducing the blamer to judge someone as a ‘representative criminal’ (or not) based on salient cultural stereotypes and the target’s visible attributes. This heuristic is not activated by parsimony constraints, but by affect under ordinary conditions. Even if the activated emotions are consciously available to the blamer (e.g., she is aware that she is angry), the causal antecedent of the anger may not be; that is, she may not realize that she is blaming the defendant because she is angry at someone else. This type of affective ignorance is a standard feature of human psychology, not a context-specific processing error (Dan Haybron 2008). Hence, affectively-triggered, irrational blaming responses may be quite common, particularly in people lacking emotional regulation and source attribution competency. In these groups, irrational, emotionally-charged blame may be a habitual response pattern.

  1. Non-sequential, fast blame

Haidt provides an alternative to the Path model. On his view, blame is typically generated quickly and automatically by intuitions. Malle et al. call this a ‘blame-first’ theory, and they deny that blame-first theories can explain paradigmatic cases of blame. This is because blame-first responses are triggered by first-personally opaque causal mechanisms (e.g., intuitions), which cannot be articulated in public blaming exchanges; thus, they cannot regulate social interactions through the exchange of criterial information. According to Malle et al., the social intuition model (henceforth, SIM) explains ‘moral judgments,’ not blame as a regulatory social process.

A notable case of intuitive blaming is moral dumbfounding, in which the blamer generates an explicit moral judgment on the basis of intuitions that are unconscious. In dumbfounding cases, there is a direct link from the intuition to the moral judgment, such that the production of the judgment bypasses criterial information-processing. The intuition, that is, preempts a judgment automatically and non-sequentially. Malle et al. object that intuitive moral judgments are not instances of blame, but rather of moral judgments (about the moral valence of actions), whereas blame involves an exchange of reasons. Since dumbfounded agents cannot articulate the “informational basis of their blame judgments (e.g., inferences of intentionality or preventability [etc.]),” they cannot “demand, offer, and negotiate such information as warrants for [our] acts of blaming” (Malle et al. 2014: 149).

This objection is not quite fair to SIM, seeing that dumbfounded blamers typically eventually offer reasons in support of their judgments, even if these reasons are post hoc and possibly confabulatory in nature. The blamer’s overt explanation of her judgment fails to track the judgment’s underlying computational mechanisms. It is often a rational reconstruction of those processes, based on available evidence and the agent’s subjective goals. This is no different from path-generated sequential judgments, in the sense that sequential processing can also be implicit and automatic, and thus introspectively opaque. Thus, our explanation of our judgment is likely to involve rational reconstruction in both cases. Malle et al. give us no reason to think that blamers’ self-reports of their blaming judgments accurately track the underlying causal mechanisms. Thus, we have no good reason to differentiate between intuitive judgments explained by post hoc rationalizations, and sequential-criterial judgments that look identical from the blamer’s perspective. Although intuitive judgments are generated by criteria-irrelevant inputs, we have seen that sequential information-processing also typically implicates criteria-irrelevant inputs, with the public explanation being divorced from underlying causal mechanisms. Thus, the distinction between intuitive judgments and sequential judgments is unmotivated.

It is also reasonable to think that implicit biases, like intuitions, might give rise to blame-first responses. To see the parallels between the two cases, consider a typical case of moral dumbfounding: when people are asked if it is wrong for a brother and sister to sleep together even once, assuming that there are no adverse consequences, many people intuitively judge the action to be wrong and the actors to be blameworthy (Haidt 2000). If asked to explain why, they provide post hoc rationalizations that invoke relevant (but causally inert) criteria. Similarly, people who form judgments on the basis of implicit bias tend to offer confabulated explanations. For instance, when subjects were separated into two groups and asked to evaluate a male and female candidate for police chief, where the male candidate was described as ‘street smart’ but lacking in formal education to the first group, and the female candidate was described as ‘street smart’ but lacking in formal education two the second group, both groups favoured the male candidate due to implicit gender bias. When asked to explain their choice, however, they invoked the male candidate’s qualifications (either street smarts or credentials), unaware that the qualification made no difference (Uhlmann & Cohen 2005). That is, they offered a post hoc rationalization. It is reasonable to think that implicit gender bias directly triggered a judgment about the candidates’ job suitability, similar to intuitions, with the criterial judgment being post hoc.

Admittedly, the study involved judgments of job suitability, but we can see how blame can be confabulatory in the same way: if someone were to blame a female police officer for incompetency on the basis of implicit gender bias, the person would be blaming on criteria-irrelevant grounds (implicit bias), but providing criterial information. Survey results provide no evidence to the effect that implicit states cannot generate blaming judgments non-sequentially, since these results track subjects’ explicit inferential processes, not their neurocognitive processes.

  1. What’s wrong? Path represents explicit, not implicit, reasoning

Path is based on abundant empirical evidence, and it correctly models explicit moral reasoning. The sequential steps are based on subjects’ responses to surveys. Evidence for the ‘capacity’ criterion, for example, comes from studies showing that foreseeability, or the capacity to predict, and potentially avoid, aversive outcomes, is deemed significant by subjects asked to judge the blameworthiness of theoretical actors in hypothetical scenarios. When the subjects were invited to ask questions about these scenarios, they typically asked questions about capacity prior to asking questions about obligation, revealing a default reasoning sequence from ‘capacity’ to ‘obligation.’ (The same result obtained when subjects were offered different types of information). The survey results supported the other ‘default’ pathways on the Path Model.

I have no doubt that Path accurately traces folks’ explicit reasoning about people’s blameworthiness, but it is a leap to say that it captures their actual information-processing sequence in their neurocognitive systems. This is because our first-person reports about our cognitive processes, and our actual cognitive processes, do not coincide. We lack reliable conscious access to our implicit states, and when we lack relevant information about our actions, we tend to confabulate intelligible but inaccurate explanations. According to Peter Carruthers (2010), all of our self-reports are inferential – none are direct – and thus we are just as likely to mis-attribute internal states to ourselves as we are to mis-attribute internal states to others, ceteris paribus. Carruthers also believes that confabulation is pervasive, based on converging research, including split-brain studies showing that the left hemisphere systematically confabulates intelligible explanations of our behaviour, and other data [Carruthers 2010: 39-42]). Other neuroscientists might not go this far, but most agree that a considerable amount of cognitive processing is unconscious (Bargh & Morsella 2008). We have no reason, then, to think that survey results about blame-relevant criterial information match the computational processes that produce judgments of blame. Indeed, given that people paradigmatically blame rape victims and fat people, it is reasonable to think that implicit biases play a paradigmatic role in generating blame.

Malle et al. admit that biases play a role in cases of parsimonious computation – a small number of cases – but given that social cognition is strongly mediated by inegalitarian cultural norms, it is much more plausible to think that implicit biases play a paradigmatic role in blaming cognition, which explains why blame typically targets and harms historically disenfranchised groups.

  1. Blame as an evolved function

Malle et al. say that blame’s cognitive architecture evolved as a mechanism for regulating social behaviour in our early evolutionary history. This cognitive architecture allowed us to express blame interpersonally in traditional, close-knit communities, regulating the behaviour of in-group members. In order for blame to serve this evolutionary function, they say, certain preconditions must be met, including (i) the overt communication of blame, (ii) the intelligible delivery of blame, (iii) the treatment of the offender as a member of a shared community, (iv) the possibility of repair, and (v) the presentation of reasons for acting (Malle et al. 2014: 172-173). Blaming judgments that meet these criteria are more likely to enhance the moral fitness of the group.

Elsewhere, I have disputed the idea that blame must be addressed primarily to the wrongdoer; I think that blame serves a variety of social functions independent of the wrongdoer’s responsiveness (or lack thereof). But here, I want to question whether blame paradigmatically serves its evolutionary function in modern times. If blame is often, and perhaps paradigmatically, irrational due to pervasive implicit bias, then blame most likely does not enhance moral-group fitness.

Malle et al. never say whether they think that blame functions to regulate behaviour in a fitness-enhancing way in the year 2018. They would presumably be amenable to the idea that blame does not effectively serve this function, insofar as the postulated preconditions are not met – specifically, blame is not communicated overtly, intelligibly, in such a way as to offer reasons to the wrongdoer, and so on. Perhaps these conditions have been compromised by modern cultural norms and technological innovations. Maybe we are more likely to ‘troll’ each other on the Internet, as opposed to confronting each other in civil discourse, contrary to the intelligibility constraint; maybe some of us are too politically oppressed to publicly express our blaming judgments, in violation of the communication constraint. Differences between the modern ecology and our ancestral ecology could potentially undermine the efficacy of modern blaming practices.

These are interesting departures from ancestral blaming norms, but I am more interested in (what I take to be) a more fundamental difference – the emergence of gross inequality, and the corresponding emergence of pervasive implicit bias. As I said above, implicit bias most likely plays a characteristic role in blaming cognition – for instance, mediating mirror neuron activation and mimicry (Spalding 2013), empathy (Mathur et al. 2014), and prosocial behaviour (Stpanikova et al. 2011). The content of our implicit biases is not innate – it is a result of cultural exposure. Because implicit biases are not introspectable, when we act on them, we tend to offer confabulatory reasons for our behaviour. Malle et al. should be amenable to the idea that the exchange of confabulatory reasons can be an impediment to the effective communication of blame, which is a precondition for effective blaming. Yet we often offer confabulatory reasons unwittingly, and we should not discount these common exchanges from the category of blame. These judgments regulate behaviour, even if they do not facilitate social cohesion and repair. If we discount these blaming judgments, we restrict the scope of blame to ‘sanitized’ judgements, leaving out a large proportion of our day-to-day blaming interactions (McGeer 2008). A psychologically realistic model of blame must include these ordinary cases of irrational blame. Sanitized blame is a blaming practice perpetuated by hyper-rational agents, or neurotypical agents living in conditions of extreme equality, not creatures like us, living in conditions like ours.

Malle et al. agree with me that our early evolutionary ecology was highly egalitarian compared to modern times. This means that there was relatively little implicit bias within the group. In modern pluralistic democracies, implicit bias is pervasive and highly impactful on the life prospects of historically disadvantaged groups within the broader collective. A precondition for a functioning, collective blaming practice, then, may be an increase of equality. More precisely, we may need to enhance equality in order for blaming cognition to function as it did in early evolutionary times, i.e., in such a way as to enhance social cohesion and repair of ruptured relationships within the collective. By omitting the role of implicit bias and affect from Path (even provisionally), the authors fail to capture the deep irrationality of modern blaming practices.

Equality, in my view, is a central precondition for a rational and reparative blaming practice. It may even be a precondition for preconditions such as community and repair, inasmuch as inegalitarian (irrational, biased) blaming practices tend to undermine mutual trust, cohesion, and respect.

  1. Concluding remarks

I have argued that Malle et al.’s model of blaming cognition charts explicit blaming judgments, but not underlying computational processes. Omitted from Path are implicit biases and implicit affect, which significantly mediate social cognition, giving rise to criteria-irrelevant, and thus irrational, blaming judgments (in the presence of triggers). I have proposed likely points of entry for implicit bias and affect into the path system, as well as proposing that cognitive biases may preempt blaming judgments on their own, independent of any sequential processing. Whether the Path Model captures ‘paradigmatic’ blame is not determined by survey responses, which trace the respondent’s explicit (possibly confabulatory) reasoning processes. It is eminently likely that implicit biases and affect play a systematic role in ordinary blaming cognition, though the saliency of these states depends on background cognitive and environmental conditions, which are highly subjective. Yet given the pervasiveness of victim-blaming judgments in our culture, it is likely that implicit bias plays a significant role in the blaming cognition of ordinary people. The prototypicality of irrational blame, moreover, helps to explain modern conditions of extreme inequality: those conditions are caused by, and reinforce, victim-blaming habits. Irrational blame and conditions of inequality, in other words, go hand in hand.

[1] Henceforth, references to Malle, Gugliemo, and Monroe (2014) will be denoted by ‘Malle et al.’ or, if the reference is obvious, only pagination.

Blame: It’s nature, targets, and functions


Blame: Its nature, targets, and functions.


This paper asks three questions: (1) What is holding-responsible, particularly blaming, as an expressive practice? (2) Who is an appropriate target of blame? And (3) What is the function of blame? I answer that (i) Blaming is an expressive practice, in which (somewhat surprisingly perhaps) blame can be expressed unconsciously by the blamer; (ii) the appropriate target of the reactive attitudes (resentment, disapprobation, indignation) is the wrongdoer, but the appropriate target of the conative force of blame – its demand for a response – is a suitably sensitive audience, not necessarily the wrongdoer; and (iii) one of blame’s primary functions is to enhance relational equality, because relational equality is a precondition for a fair and rational blaming practice.

Key words: responsibility; blame; reactive attitudes; implicit bias; eliminitivism

  1. Introduction

In this paper, I ask three questions: (1) What is holding-responsible, particularly blaming, as an expressive practice? (2) Who is an appropriate target of blame? And (3) What is the function of blame? (What is it for? Why do we do it? Why should we do it?).

I come to the following conclusions.

(1) Responsibility is an expression of the reactive attitudes, which, on various proposals, have emotional contents (emotionalism), cognitive contents (cognitivism), or both. I show that, because emotions and (cognitive) judgments can, in some cases, be unconscious, blame qua emotional/cognitive response can be unconscious. This is not necessarily a refutation of extant theories, but an under-appreciated implication of neuroscientific data on the nature of emotions, judgments, and implicit states implicated in emotional and cognitive activations. Although there is an abundance of scholarship on responsibility for unconscious states, very little has been published on unconscious blame, even though this type of blame is extremely consequential.

(2) Although Strawson says that moral incompetents are not apt targets of the reactive attitudes, I argue that moral incompetents can be apt targets of the emotional and cognitive contents of blame – resentment, disapprobation, negative valuation – but not apt targets of the conative orientation of, or demand implicit in, blame. Instead, the proper target of blame’s demands and solicitations is a suitably sensitive audience. Thus, blame’s emotional and cognitive contents, on the one hand, and blame’s conative orientation, on the other, come apart, and moral incompetents are only partially outside the scope of the reactive attitudes. This view vindicates contemporary theories on which blame can be fittingly addressed to the community (e.g., Bell 2014).

(3) Blame is most likely multi-functional, because versatile (multi-directional) blaming practices have more traction, potentially motivating more people to heed its demands. That said, surely one of the most urgent and immediate functions of our blaming practice is to enhance relational equality, or equality of moral and epistemic esteem and standing (Anderson 2015). The reason is that relational equality is a prerequisite to other posited aims – e.g., registering one’s protest against wrongdoing (Smith 2013), resisting wrongdoing (Bell 2013) – since our perception of wrongdoing is distorted by implicit biases rooted in pervasive cultural stereotypes. So, relational equality must be one of blame’s utmost normative functions – the function that it should, and must, serve, if it is to function fairly and rationally on a large-scale interpersonal level.

  1. Responsibility as an expressive practice: What is ‘an expression’?

One of the most influential accounts of moral responsibility in philosophy is Strawson’s view (1963), on which responsibility is an interpersonal practice in which we express the reactive attitudes, such as blame, praise, approbation, disapprobation, resentment, and so on. For this paper, I will focus on the negative reactive attitudes, particularly blame.

Many contemporary theorists construe Strawsonian holding-responsible as an expressive or communicative exchange, in which an agent expresses a reactive attitude toward another agent in response to the target’s quality of will (or other morally salient quality). McKenna (2014), for example, describes blame as part of a conversational practice with three paradigmatic stages: (1) agent A performs a morally problematic action, (2) agent B expresses a negative reactive attitude to A, and (3) A responds to B. In an ideal conversational exchange, A’s expression and B’s response will be fitting, meaning, in McKenna’s terms, intelligible to the recipient and appropriate to the context. If the wrongdoer is morally incompetent, she is not an apt target for blame.

Other theorists have different ideas about the expressive function of blame. Angela Smith argues that blame is an expressive practice that registers one’s protest against someone’s morally problematic treatment of oneself or others (2013). Macalister Bell holds that blame expresses a hostile attitude toward others, as a means of resisting wrongdoing (2013). She then identifies a number of sub-functions that subserve the resistance aim: registering the damage done to our relationships, educating its target, motivating offenders to avoid recidivism, educating members of the moral community, and expressing or affirming one’s own values. Christopher Bennett describes blame as a way of expressing disapproval through symbolic gestures that register the offender’s damage to important relationships (2013). Victoria McGeer describes blame as an expressive practice that produces prosocial behaviours by drawing attention to past offenses (2013: 171). These accounts differ in their construal of the function that expressions of blame paradigmatically serve, but they agree with the proposition that blame is an expressive practice.

Let’s assume that the expressivist view is right. At this juncture, we can ask: what does it mean to express blame?

This is a germane question because there is disagreement about what cognitive states are implicated in holding-responsible, and thus what cognitive states blame can express. Many expressivists think that emotions are a “canonical,” if not necessary, part of our responsibility practice (McGeer 2013: 168). McGeer argues that creatures like us, with our evolutionary history, cannot entirely expunge emotions, including ‘uncivil’ emotions, from blame. She sees blame as characteristically emotionally-charged, as well as “rapid and involuntary” (2013: 172), though (possibly) reflectively mediated and thus ‘domesticatable.’ Many people would urge that holding-responsible also implicates judgments or cognitive contents, which mediate (and potentially ‘domesticate’) our knee-jerk, affective responses (e.g., Smith 2013; Sher 2010; McKenna 2013). If we grant that reactive attitudes typically implicate emotional and/or cognitive contents, then (in either case) we might be tempted to assume that they are typically conscious, or at least consciously available. We know when we are blaming someone.  

(Many theorists hold that the reactive attitudes also have a ‘conative orientation,’ or an intention to produce some type of change or response in another person. I will hold off on discussing the conative view until the next section, where it will be more relevant).

In the first place, one might assume, as Williams James did, that an ‘unconscious emotion’ is a contradiction in terms (1884) – that there is a tangible ‘feeling-that’ quality to emotional states. On this assumption, unconscious blame is impossible. One might assume, too, that judgments are reflective in nature – that they involve a conscious representation of their object. If these assumptions are right, then perhaps we can be temporarily unaware of our blaming attitudes due to inattention or a transient distraction, but these states are nonetheless available to consciousness.

Here are some typical examples of blame that seem to affirm this picture. Someone loses confidence in his friend Joe after learning that Joe ridiculed him behind his back, and he modifies the relationship accordingly (Bennett 2012, citing Scanlon 2008). Isa blames her friend Marie for accepting a disempowering relationship with an abusive man (Bell 2014). A college students posts a ‘NO TOUCHY’ post-it on her pizza box to deter her friend from eating the leftovers, exemplifying ‘anticipatory blame’ (MacNamara 2014: 160). In all of these examples, unless the blamer is acting in a somnambulant state, we must imagine the person consciously blaming the target, i.e., expressing consciously-felt emotions and (most likely) consciously-represented judgments. For instance, Isa, if questioned, would probably say that she reproaches Marie, and disapproves of Marie’s decision to stay with her partner. She has conscious access to her blame-constitutive emotional and cognitive states.

Emotions and judgments, however, are not necessarily available to consciousness. (I’ll discuss emotions first and judgments shortly thereafter). Mounting neuroscientific evidence supports the existence of unconscious/implicit emotions, or states with the neurocognitive profile of an emotion that are not available to conscious awareness. Smith and Lane offer as evidence “emotionally relevant stimuli presented so briefly that perceptual awareness is not possible, [which nevertheless] reliably influence preferences (Zajonc, 1980), consummatory behavior (Winkielman and Berridge, 2004), and… other emotion-related physiological/ behavioral reactions (Tamietto and de Gelder, 2010)” (2016: 17). A growing literature, they add, “has also established that unconscious or implicit attitudes and beliefs have a profound effect on social behavior (McConnell and Leibold, 2001)” (2016: 217) – they are causally efficacious. Joseph LeDoux, a neuroscientist and writer, has argued that the activation of emotional circuits can trigger overt behaviour without giving rise to any conscious feeling, if those activations do not interact with neural systems implicated in conscious processing (2012). These activations are called ‘implicit emotions.’ To give some concrete examples, research subjects exhibit facial expressions, physiological arousal, and afferent feedback constitutive of fear, without subjectively representing fear (Khilstrom et al. 2000); in dissociation patients, conscious awareness of an emotion can be severed from conscious processes, rendering the emotion subjectively opaque (Bucci 2016); in patients with chronic health problems, activation in emotional circuits often presents as somatic symptoms with no conscious neural correlates – no consciousness of the emotion (Kroenke 2003; Konnopka et al., 2012; Sharpe and Carson, 2001).

These may not be canonical cases of emotions, but they are still valid cases, and these unconscious emotional activations can motivate overt behaviour. If there can be motivationally efficacious unconscious emotions, there can, on an affective view, be unconscious blame. For instance, if I implicitly fear, resent, or experience somatic distress in response to someone’s salient attributes, I may express those unconscious neurocognitive states toward their object (in negative ways fitting of the emotion) without realizing it. That is, I may (affectively) unconsciously blame the person. This doesn’t mean that unconscious blame is the norm, but it can happen.

Judgments can also be unconscious. Many theorists now see them as observable dispositions or functional states, which can be unconscious neurocognitive states. On the dispositionalist view, if I consciously believe that I value my friendship with Greg, but I have a disposition to avoid interacting with Greg, I may dispositionally judge Greg to be an inadequate friend, though I consciously represent him as a good friend (depending on relevant background factors). On the functionalist view, a judgment plays a reliable causal role in a certain pattern of behaviour. There is evidence that unconscious states can play a reliable role in producing goal-oriented behaviours. For example, unobtrusive priming of cooperation (using words like ‘dependable,’ ‘helpful,’ and ‘supportive’) caused subjects assigned to fisher roles in a resource-management game to cooperate to maintain the critical limit of 70 fish in the lake (Bragh et al. 2001: 1018). Notably, there was no difference between a group given unobtrusive primes, and a group given explicit instructions, suggesting that non-consciously activated goals can play just as reliable a role in the production of cooperative goal-oriented activity as the conscious intention to cooperate.

Similarly, unobtrusive priming of high-performance behaviour (using words like ‘win,’ ‘compete,’ and ‘success’) caused subjects to resume an intellectually demanding task (Scrabble) after a disruption, even when they were given the chance to play a less-demanding, ‘fun’ task instead (Bragh et al. 2001). This suggests that non-consciously activated goals are fairly robust: they persist over time. Indeed, non-consciously activated goals “show the same quality of persistence over time toward the desired end state, and of overcoming obstacles in the way, as… consciously set goals” (Bragh et al. 2001: 1015). That is, they have the quality of a disposition, and they can be just as causally efficacious at producing goal-oriented behaviour as conscious intentions.

On a dispositionalist picture, then, we can interpret the goal-pursuing behaviour provoked by non-conciously activated goals in each task as a judgment that cooperation/high performance (depending on the task) is worth pursuing, even if the judgment was not reflectively available to the actor at the time of action. Ditto for the functionalist interpretation. Granted, the value of the primed goal may have been consciously available to the subjects—they may have honestly affirmed that they did, e.g., consciously value cooperation in the resource-management task. Still, if one of them were to deny this, we would have reason to doubt their conscious appraisal, and favour the functionalist/dispostionalist interpretation on which they (implicitly) did value the goal.

On the cognitivist view, then, blame may sometimes manifest as an unconscious negative judgment. If I persistently fail to cooperate with certain types of people due to non-consciously activated states, perhaps I (functionally) negatively appraise, and thus blame, those people.

Another reason to doubt that judgments are necessarily conscious is that most people take judgments to be “intertwined” with emotions, both conscious and unconscious, meaning that judgments sometimes contain unconscious affective states (Chekov 2009).

Another compelling example of unconscious blame is blame motivated by implicit bias, where the normative significance of the action is first-personally opaque. Although implicit bias is a contested notion, the general consensus is that implicit biases are implicit associations between concepts, manifested in overt behaviour (but see Levy 2015 & Mandelbaum 2013 for exceptions, to be discussed shortly). Implicit racial bias, for example, is tracked by the Harvard Implicit Association Test by measuring subjects’ reaction times (‘response latencies’) to positive and negative words (‘smile,’ ‘honest,’ ‘disaster,’ ‘agony’) after priming the subject with a black face or a white face. Most white people are faster to pair black faces with negative words and white faces with positive words than vice versa. This means that they score positively for implicit racial bias.

It is debatable whether IAT scores translate into real-world discrimination against Black people (i.e., overt manifestations), but the reason many people think they do is that anti-black discrimination is a pervasive part of the cultural landscape, even though most people would (presumably sincerely) deny being racist. To give just a few examples of this phenomenon: Employers who had advertised an employment equity policy nonetheless favoured resumes with European American names over identical resumes with African American names by a ratio of 2:1 (Bertrand & Mullainathan 2004); managers discriminated against job applicants who used African American Vernacular English rather than Standard English in phone interviews, rating those applicants as less intelligent, less ambitious, and less qualified (Henderson 2001); adults view black girls as less innocent and more adult-like than white girls, resulting in more frequent and severe punishments in schools and the juvenile justice system (Epstein et al. 2015); African American men face harsher sentences than white men for the same federal crimes, controlling for criminal history, age, education, and citizenship (USSC 2017).

These studies show that America’s expressed attitude (i.e., overt disposition) toward black people as a group ranges from avoidant to punitive. We avoid renting to them, hiring them, and giving them equal educational opportunities; we punish them, even as young children, by barring them from equal participation in our most valued social institutions (schools, employment, housing, civilian society). Should we say that, if we engage in these avoidant, punitive, and generally exclusionary practices, implicitly rather than explicitly, they are not expressions of blame? If we are not committed to the requirement of consciousness, this constraint is unmotivated.

Neil Levy (2015) disputes the implicit-association model (as well as the implicit-belief model) and proposes that implicit biases are sui generis states, with some belief-like and some association-like properties. Like beliefs (but unlike implicit associations), implicit biases have some propositional structure, on his view, based on studies showing that previous exposure to counter-stereotypical images (women in a kitchen, men in an office) can produce counter-stereotypical responses on implicit association tests: subjects who had been exposed to stereotypical images were faster to associate competency/agency words with female faces than male faces (De Lemus et al. 2013). This suggests that implicit biases interact with the propositional structure of beliefs, albeit not inferentially – these states are still unconscious processes. Levy, in fact, holds that implicit biases, while not associations, are both unconscious, and motivationally efficacious (2015: 809). This theory, then, still supports the view that blame can be implicit, inasmuch as it can involve implicit biases that render its normative significance first-personally opaque. When we express or enact implicit biases, we do not realize that we are doing so, meaning that the evaluative significance of our behaviour is unavailable to reflective retrieval; we are not aware that are treating others in (often) aversive, avoidant, and punitive ways.

Notably, our emotions and judgments can be informed by implicit bias. Subjects exposed to a bad smell exhibited harsher moral judgments than controls, showing that implicit disgust can mediate explicit moral judgments (Schnall et al. 2008). Inducing disgust in subjects also produces intuitive disapproval of gay people, even in subjects who deny having any anti-gay bias (Inbar et al. 2018). In these cases, the subject is aware of harbouring aversive emotions and judgments, but not of the causal antecedents of those states. These are cases of ‘moral dumbfouning’ (Haidt 2001): the subject is aware of her emotion/judgment, but not of why she has it. On the other hand, if someone displays aversive behaviour in response to a prime without knowing it, the person’s dispositional emotion/judgment is first-personally opaque. This is a paradigmatic case of ‘unconscious blame,’ but moral-dumbfounding cases of blame are also possible.

We can define ‘unconscious blame’ as a negative overt response to another person, motivated by unconscious neurocognitive states, which are not directly available to consciousness, nor immediately reflectively retrievable. These negative responses are typically patterned because the implicit emotional, cognitive, and conceptual contents of blame, as we have seen, tend to be reliably activated by certain stimuli (unobtrusive primes, salient cultural stereotypes), and to persist in spite of disruptions. However, un-patterned responses should not necessarily be discounted as candidates for blame, even if they are not the norm. Expressions of unconscious blame are ‘negative’ or ‘aversive’ in that they express a ‘negative stance’ toward their target, as expressed in avoidant, punitive, or otherwise antisocial, patterns or instances of behaviour.

This account departs from the Strawsonian view that blame is a response to an agent’s quality of will, since blame in these cases responds to salient triggers and subjective states, not the target’s qualities. But this view allows that blame is typically a response to an agent’s perceived quality of will, mediated by the perceiver’s implicit and explicit emotions, judgments, and attitudes, and situational triggers. When blame is well-placed or ‘fitting,’ it accurately responds to the wrongdoer’s objective quality of will. In practice, blame frequently misses its mark due to implicit states. Unbiased blame is non-discriminatory, while biased blame is bigoted in various ways.

The idea that holding-responsible (including blaming) can be unconscious is not exactly revisionary. Expressivists in particular grant that our responsibility practice regularly involves manifestations of unconscious attitudes, though they focus on unconscious states at the ‘moral contribution’ stage (‘stage 1’ above). McKenna, for example, says that committing an unintentional offense is blame-able (2014); Smith holds that forgetting about a close friend’s birthday warrants moral approbation (2005); and Sher says that forgetting a family pet in the backseat of a hot car is blameworthy (2010). These are ‘omissions cases,’ in which an omission (to do what one ought, take proper precautions, exercise due moral vigilance, or what have you) reflects a negative quality of will, opening the person to blame. Many people now take this ‘anti-reflecitivist’ stance on responsible agency, according to which people can be responsible for unconscious transgressions (Doris 2016). That said, few theorists have discussed the role of unconscious states in stages two and three of our responsibility practice: the stage at which we express the reactive attitudes (‘moral address’), and the stage at which we respond to these attitudes (‘moral accounting’). This is not to say that theorists deny that we can express and respond to these attitudes unconsciously, but if they believe that we can, they don’t explicitly say so.

This points to an asymmetry in the literature, in which an abundance of work has been done on whether one can be blameworthy for an unconscious violation, whereas relatively little has been said about whether one can express and respond to the reactive attitudes unconsciously. If I am right, then we can, at least, unconsciously express these attitudes. When we unconsciously express a reactive attitude, we are unaware of some normatively salient feature of our behaviour.

Here is an example (taken from an earlier paper [citation withheld for anonymity]). Physicians prescribe fewer pain-killers to Black patients than white patients when both exhibit the same symptoms (Silverstein 2013; Cleeland et al. 1994). This may be related to the fact that white observers show less physiological arousal in response to Black people’s pain than white people’s pain, with their level of arousal correlating with their level of implicit racial bias (Forgiarini et al. 2011). That is, physicians may prescribe fewer pain-killers to Black patients due to implicit racial bias. If so, then they are, on scrutiny, treating Black patients in a punitive way, denying them the medical treatment they need or deserve on the physician’s evaluation of equivalent suffering in white patients. They may also distrust their Black patients’ ability to take pain-killers responsibly compared to their white patients.[1] If this analysis is right, then physicians who manifest racial prescription bias are unconsciously blaming (i.e., punishing, distrusting, implicitly judging as undeserving or incompetent) their Black patients. They are not consciously aware of doing this, but their overt behaviour nonetheless expresses blame to Black patients.

Again, I am not saying that theorists would not count this as an instance of expressive blame; I am saying that there is little discussion of such cases – cases that are extremely consequential in their impact on the life prospects of historically disadvantaged groups.

The view that implicitly biased prescription practices can count as blame requires a move away from an intuitive perspective on blame: the first-person standpoint. Physicians motivated by implicit racial bias are not aware that they are expressing these biases in their prescriptive habits, much less that they are unconsciously blaming their Black patients, so we cannot rely on the first-person standpoint to deliver accurate evaluative descriptions of the subject’s own expressive habits. (This is a rejection of what Sher [2010] calls ‘the searchlight view,’ applied here to blaming rather than to blameworthiness). We cannot necessarily rely on the average observer’s appraisal either, since most people are not in a good position to evaluate whether a perceived pattern of behaviour is an instance of implicit bias. To evaluate whether a person P’s pattern of behaviour counts as blame, we need to assess P’s stated intentions and overt behaviour, and compare these data to relevant psychological and sociological research or trends. We should, in a sense, adopt a ‘heterophenomological perspective’ to blame, in Dennett’s terms (1991) – a perspective that compares a piece of phenomenological data against a range of intersubjective and empirical data. A physician’s prescriptive practices can be evaluated for implicit bias by observing the person’s treatment of different patients, in comparison with national prescription trends. This allows us (if there is sufficient data) to determine if unconscious blame is explanatorily potent in a particular case. (Identifying unconscious blame is easier on a population level than an individual level – that is, it is easier to determine whether a certain social group unconsciously blames another social group, than whether a certain individual unconsciously blames another individual in response to the person’s identity or group affiliation. Nonetheless, the population trends are manifestations of individual patterns of behaviour).

This is a suggested methodology for identifying unconscious blame. It does not bear on the question of whether unconscious blame is a valid construct. This question has already been settled by the discussion about the nature of emotions and judgments, which can be implicit.

  1. Fittingness constraints: Communication to whom?

Assuming that responsibility is an expressive practice, another pertinent question is: What is its appropriate target?

Strawson (1963) argued that the reactive attitudes respond to an agent’s quality of will, unless there are salient extenuating conditions. Excusing conditions mollify the reactive attitudes, rendering them less severe, whereas exempting conditions trigger a complete suspension of the reactive attitudes, and a switch to ‘the objective attitude,’ i.e., an emotionally detached, typically avoidant, stance. Adopting this stance involves treating the target as, “perhaps, an object of social policy; as a subject for what, in a wide range of sense, might be called treatment; as something certainly to be taken account, perhaps precautionary account, of; to be managed or handled or cured or trained; perhaps simply to be avoided” (1963: 66). We refuse to engage emotionally with the target in the objective stance, and we aim to exclude the person from ‘the moral community,’ the group of morally-responsive agents. This is a fitting attitude toward moral incompetents, those who are deeply or constitutionally incapable of responding to moral claims.

If the objective attitude is an emotionally detached stance, then it excludes blame, and other reactive attitudes, from its scope. The ordinary defense for this position is that blame toward moral incompetents has no point. The point of blame, many assume, is to elicit a fitting emotional reaction in the target, in response to a salient moral demand. This is its ‘conative orientation’ (or one of its dominant conative orientations, if there are several): blame solicits a fitting response from the target. This conative aspect of blame can be retrospective or prospective, or both. Sher, for instance, describes the conative orientation of blame as a desire that the wrongdoer “have responded, or that he be disposed to respond, to what we consider a compelling moral reason” (2006: 105). There is a retrospective desire that the agent have behaved otherwise, a prospective desire that he (be disposed to) respond appropriately in the future. Others see blame as not merely desiring, but demanding, a response. We can call this a ‘strongly conative’ orientation: the blamer doesn’t just wish the wrongdoer had acted otherwise, she calls for action. This strong conative orientation is required, or presupposed, by many influential theories.

McKenna, for instance, construes blame as, in effect, a request for a ‘moral account’ from the transgressor (2014). Similarly, McNamara says that blame solicits a response from the wrongdoer, and that “successful” cases of blame are those that “receive a response” (2012: 159).

Others see this constraint as only partial, or defeasible. Smith’s protest account interprets blame as “implicitly seeking a response” from the object of protest (2013: 40), consistent with Strawson and McKenna. Absent this eliciting function, blame could be “a one-sided adjustment of attitudes,” and, thus, “deeply non-relational” (41) – an unacceptable conclusion. But Smith thinks that blame can also serve another function: to register a complaint against someone’s attitude – though this might be an ‘imperfect’ or ‘incomplete’ case. McGeer similarly argues that blame can serve two functions: regulating people’s behavior, and appraising an action as wrong. Blame, then, does not necessarily solicit a response from the wrongdoer – it can serve a purely signaling function. Bell (2013), too, thinks that blame can serve goals other than appealing to the wrongdoer: it can function to motivate and educate the community and to signal one’s values to the group.

These last three views (Smith’s, McGeer’s, and Bell’s), which we can call ‘multi-functional accounts of blame’ (because they see blame as serving more than one aim), mark a departure from the Strawsonian ‘fittingness’ constraint, on which blame is fitting only if the proper target – namely, the wrongdoer – is suitably sensitive to the demand. The justification for this departure is that blame’s proper ‘target’ is not necessarily, or exclusively, the wrongdoer; rather, the target of the conative orientation of blame, which seeks a response, must be some other individual or group capable of responding appropriately (with sympathy, vicarious indignation, political activism). The ‘conative target,’ in other words, is a sensitive moral audience, those to whom the expressive act is communicated, and from whom uptake is demanded, sought, or anticipated. This condition satisfies blame’s expressive ‘point’ – it communicates with a fit respondent. That said, the wrongdoer is surely an appropriate target of blame’s emotional/cognitive contents (resentment, distrust, disapproval), for, whom else could be? If we cannot extirpate the emotional contents of blame from human psychology, they must have some target, and this must be the wrongdoer. Yet the morally incompetent wrongdoer is not an apt target for blame’s conative orientation.

This multi-directional view of blame’s ‘point’ respects the relational element of Strawson’s theory, but it expands the scope of the reactive attitudes beyond the relationship between the complainant and the accused; it recognizes that blame can be expressed to the community, in relationship with the community. The incompetent wrongdoer, however, is not completely outside of blame’s scope; this person is an apt target of blame-constitutive emotions and judgments, though not of blame’s demand for a suitable response. That is, on my interpretation, the emotional/cognitive contents of blame, on the one hand, and the conative force of blame, on the other, come apart. In separating these two elements, we can see how the conative element of blame can be fittingly addressed to an audience, in keeping with the multi-functional view.

This interpretation implies that moral incompetents are not exempt from blame in the way that Strawson envisioned; they may be exempt from blame’s conative aspect, but they are still apt targets of blame’s emotional and cognitive contents. That is, when we adopt the objective attitude toward someone, we only partially suspend the reactive attitudes; we suspend a given attitude’s conative force, but we do not suspend the attitude’s emotional and cognitive contents. We are permitted to be resentful, reproachful, and censorious toward morally incompetent wrongdoers.

This is, I think, a more realistic view of blame’s psychological profile. Do the families of psychopathic (non-responsive on many views) murder victims suspend their resentment toward the psychopath? No, but they might turn to the community and the justice system for an appropriate response to their understandable emotions. (An appropriate response would be sympathetic resentment, sequestration, and other actions that ‘take the side of’ the victims and protect the community from harm. Note that there are additional fittingness constraints on blame and punishment, such as proportionality and intelligibility, which I do not have time to address here).

The multi-functional view also calls into question McKenna’s model. If the audience can be the target of blame’s demands, then the ‘moral accounting’ stage must be expanded to include a range of fitting responses from variously situated respondents. This is because the audience is not in a position to give a ‘moral account’ (apology, explanation, restitution) on behalf of the transgressor – only the transgressor himself can do this. Thus, the ‘moral accounting’ stage must be expanded to include other types of response – vicarious resentment, collective action, and so on.

This means that we can tweak Strawson and McKenna to make them compatible with a multi-functional view, by separating the emotional/cognitive and conative elements of blame. But why should we think, all things considered, that blame can be addressed to an audience?

There are normative and descriptive reasons on offer. The descriptive reason is that (1) this is how blame actually functions, and (2) we should endorse a descriptively accurate theory. McGeer provides an evolutionary (descriptive) account of blame, on which the reactive attitude evolved as rapid and involuntary responses to perceived transgressions. (However, as ‘mentalizing creatures,’ we are capable of reflecting on and revising these responses, within limits set by evolution). These evolved responses “play a critical role in regulating behaviour by way of making salient the demands that shared norms place on our actions and attitudes” (2014: 183). They promote pro-social behaviour by ‘coding’ certain practices as wrong, and ‘signaling’ disapproval of those practices. They can serve these ‘coding’ and ‘signaling’ functions in a variety of ways: not simply by demanding a response from a transgressor, but also by demanding recognition from the community. We are constrained in how far we can suppress and alter these responses, but we can implement plans and policies to help ‘guide’ them in pro-social ways. In sum, emotions, while somewhat plaint, are an inextricable part of our blaming psychology.

Notably, even if blame does not function well in modern society compared to our early evolutionary history (more on which shortly), it remains true that emotion-laden blame is an ineradicable part of our moral psychology, though it may ‘misfire’ due to differences between modern and ancient ecologies. The direction of blame and the existence of blame are different things: while we can perhaps ‘refine’ blame to minimize its harmful effects, we cannot eliminate it.

The normative reason in favour of multi-functionalism is that blame should serve a multitude of functions, as these functions help to regulate human behaviour in positive ways. Bell points out that blame can serve a variety of (local) functions (perhaps in the service of a general, over-arching function), aside from eliciting a reaction from the transgressor; it can also educate, motivate, and register a moral complaint with, the moral community. Indeed, if we think of holding-responsible as a functional practice that serves the moral ends of the community, it is, I think, arbitrary to cut off any local aims that subserve this goal. To be effective, expressive practices must be versatile, appealing to and ‘connecting with’ as many people as possible. Any number of specific aims, then, may be compatible with the general aim of “responsibilizing” people (Pettit 2007).

Bell advances this argument as a way of defeating the view that blame is ‘positional,’ or fitting only toward those over whom we have moral authority, rooted in our relationship with the blamee (viz., Darwall 2006, Cohen 2006). Against this view, Bell claims that we can blame strangers, co-conspirators, the deceased, and (as I have urged) moral incompetents. The rationale for this departure from the ‘positional’ view is that blame is multi-functional, and not all of its functions are indexed to authority relations. We have responsibilities, not only as members of specific relationships, but “as critics” and “third parties” (2012: 265). Indeed, we witness wrongdoing every day; the fact that we may not be in a position to solicit a response from the wrongdoer does not entail that we cannot, in a meaningful sense, blame the person. Arguably, when we ignore the transgressions of moral incompetents, we make ourselves complicit in their actions.

I agree with Bell’s objection to the ‘positionality’ constraint, insofar as I agree that morally insensitive agents can be resented, distrusted, and censured, but I do not think that we thereby need to abandon the intuitive idea that the conative orientation of blame must be directed to a responsive target. While the emotional and cognitive contents of blame are fitting for the transgressor, the proper recipient for the demand for a response may very well be someone else.

If this is right, then the answer to the question, ‘who is an apt target of blame?’ is broader and more nuanced than Strawson envisioned. Moral incompetents are apt targets of blame-constitutive emotions and judgments, but not of moral demands; these demands should be addressed to a suitably sensitive audience.

  1. Functionalism: Communication to what end?

We have seen a variety of functionalist interpretations. McGeer, Bell, and Smith agree that blame’s functions include (1) registering someone’s behaviour or quality of will as morally problematic, and (2) soliciting a response from the wrongdoer or the community. I have called these views ‘multifunctional’ simply because they allow that blame can function not merely to demand a response from the wrongdoer, but to do other things as well. These theorists, however, posit distinct higher-order aims that blame is supposed to serve, under which other (subordinate) aims can be subsumed. For Bell, blame’s main function is to “resist wrongdoing” (266); for Smith, it is to protest (or “register one’s protest of”) someone’s treatment of people (27); and for McGeer, it is to enhance the moral fitness of (or ‘responsibilize’) the group. These aims overlap: protest and resistance are similar – perhaps even coextensive – concepts, and the aim of responsibilizing the group surely encompasses resisting and protesting violations, whatever else it may entail.

Rather than arbitrating which of these views is superior, in this section I will argue that each is too thin to serve as a normatively adequate theory of blame, and that any adequate theory of blame must make relational equality a priority. The reason is that our perception of wrongdoing will be distorted as long as relational inequality is the norm. If our blaming responses register, protest, or resist ‘wrongdoing’ by our lights (as they must), they will systematically miss their mark, as ‘our lights’ are coloured by the conditions of social injustice in which we live (viz. Fricker 2007, Medina 2013). Repairing relational inequality, then, must be one of our explicit aims and priorities as members of the moral community. If we do not effectively prioritize this aim, we risk blaming people in unjust and irrational ways – ways that harm marginalized groups.

Bell and Smith posit similar aims for blame (protesting and resisting wrongdoing), while McGeer thinks that blame registers offenses and responsibilizes people. I don’t doubt that blame should do these things, but in our society, it does not advance these aims effectively. This is because our perception of wrongdoing is distorted by implicit biases informed by cultural stereotypes, collectively speaking. (Individuals are biased to a greater or lesser degree depending on their social position, learning history, neurocognitive profile, etc. What follows here is a population analysis, abstracting away, for the most part, from individual perception. This analysis is compatible with the idea that some people are moral-epistemic saints, impervious to implicit bias; but, on a standpoint epistemological picture, most people’s perception will be affected by implicit biases rooted in cultural stereotypes and scripts, since individual perception reflects background epistemic conditions, or what Jose Medina calls ‘the social imagination’ [2012]).

As we saw in section 2, physicians systematically distrust and punish Black patients; educators systematically punish and sanction young Black girls; employers systematically distrust and avoid Black job applicants; the justice system systematically gives Black men harsher prison sentences. These are examples of misplaced blame – specifically, misplaced unconscious blame – in which our (collective) blaming reactions subvert their putative function(s), viz., protesting and resisting wrongdoing, and responsibilizing people. These attitudes, in effect, malfunction in current social conditions, making society worse off and less responsible. We are less responsible qua blamers, blamees, and third-party critics, as we are more mired in distorting cultural stereotypes and scripts that prevent us from discerning who objectively deserves blame (or protest or avoidance), and who does not. The more our blaming practices miss the mark, the harder it is for us to accurately perceive wrongdoing, and to differentiate morally salient qualities from morally neutral demographic attributes that happen to be stigmatized by patriarchal-colonial-cissexist culture. The more likely we are, in other words, to illicitly blame and punish members of culturally disadvantaged groups, and to illicitly praise and reward members of socially privileged groups –  to get blame wrong. Meanwhile, the underprivileged are deprived of equal access to responsibilizing institutions, such as quality education, housing, and lucrative jobs, which is an affront to their dignity as persons. This not to say that these individuals are particularly epistemically flawed, but rather, it is to emphasize that they lack access to resources that enhance responsibility – for example, safe housing in which to responsibly raise children, occupations with which to responsibly pay off one’s student loans, etc.

Because our blaming practice is systematically biased against historically disenfranchised groups, some theorists have adopted an eliminativist position, arguing that we ought to eliminate blame because it does more harm than good (Waller 2016, Levy 2012). In other words, on a descriptively accurate account, taking proper account of modern social conditions, it is accurate to say that blame serves the function of unfairly punishing and oppressing minorities. Prima facie, this is the opposite of McGeer’s evolutionary account, on which blame serves to enhance moral-group fitness. But the two views are compatible if we see McGeer as talking about blame’s function in the Paleolithic era, in which societies were more egalitarian (Dyble et al. 2015), and Waller as talking about blame in modern times, in which inequality is systemic – particularly in America, the most economically unequal developed country (Allianz 2016). Perhaps blame’s evolved function has been co-opted by wealthy colonial-patriarchal-cissexistto advance the material and political interests of the elite. If so, then blame no longer serves its evolved function; it serves a man-made function: to promote and reinforce modern asymmetries of power.

I think that something like this story is right, but I agree with McGeer that blame is a canonical feature of human moral psychology, not something that we can eliminate, though we can ‘domesticate it’ with social engineering and careful planning. So, eliminativism is not a viable option, pace Waller. I also think that partially eliminating blame would be a mistake, as it would prevent us from responding sensitively to the suffering of the oppressed – something that we cannot and should not do. Since, on the most optimistic projection, we will not eliminate global inequality in our lifetime (indeed, income inequality in America is steadily growing (Saez 2016)) – it would be wrong, and probably psychologically impossibly, to completely suspend the reactive attitudes. It would be wrong because the detachment involved in a full suspension of the reactive attitudes would constitute callous indifference to the suffering of the oppressed; and achieving this state is most likely psychologically impossible, in any case, because we are not, as McGeer drives home, the kind of creatures who can sustain indifference in the face of undeserved suffering (with the exception of psychopaths). When we see a starving child, we feel both sympathy for the child and outrage against the person or people responsible for the child’s plight. This is how we are built.

Eliminativism also faces an aggregation problem, since not everyone can be expected to endorse it as a policy, and if only a few conscientious eliminativists suspended their blame (assuming this were possible), this would take the pressure of public condemnation off the worst offenders.

Rather than eliminating blame, I agree with McGeer that we should try to domesticate it, and I submit that this domesticating project involves promoting ‘relational equality,’ or equality of “authority, esteem, and standing” (Anderson 2015: 65). The reason is that equality is a prerequisite to holding people responsible in a fair and rational manner, given that inequality creates stereotypes and pernicious social scripts that impair our ability to recognize wrongdoing. Specifically, inequality creates implicit biases that prevent us, as a society, from distinguishing ‘wrong’ from ‘stigmatized,’ ‘blameworthy’ from ‘socially marginalized.’ Thus, relational equality must be an explicit aim, or end, of our blaming practice. This does not preclude the aims of protesting and resisting wrongdoing and registering wrongdoing, but it is temporally prior to the effective (perfect) attainment of these ends: if we do not eliminate inequality-based biases, we cannot accurately perceive people’s morally salient qualities and accurately determine who warrants blame. We do not need to completely eliminate inequality prior to blaming, but we must reduce the influence of inequality on our blaming practice if blame is to hit its mark every time.

I say ‘relational equality’ because I have been describing blame as a relational practice (between blamer and blamee, or blamer and society, or some combination of these), and relational equality, as envisioned by Elizabeth Anderson, is also a relational notion: it seeks to promote fair and equitable interactions across a variety of humanly-valuable dimensions. In particular, relational equality entails not only equality of resources, but also equality of epistemic and moral standing, esteem, and regard. To blame people fairly, we must blame them in a way befitting their (objective) moral and epistemic standing – a way that enhances relational equality. When we blame people on the basis of implicit bias, we unfairly morally disdain them; we treat them as morally and epistemically ‘beneath us.’ When we avoid, ostracize, or exclude people for no good reason, we treat them as morally unworthy of our interest, attention, and cooperation; we take ‘the objective attitude’ toward them without warrant, twisting it into a tool of objectification and marginalization. These misguided (but common) blaming practices are based on, and partly constituted by, relationships of unequal epistemic and moral standing. Notably, Anderson’s view is a response to classic egalitarian theories, which focus on distributing resources fairly, but which tend to treat the recipients with an attitude of “contemptuous pity” (Anderson 2000: 6), characterizing them as irresponsible, lazy, and poorly endowed. Anderson argues that the point of egalitarianism should be to allocate goods in the spirit of respect for human dignity, not to transfer funds from the ‘responsible’ to the ‘irresponsible,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘pitiable’ – that is, she rejects the premise of classic egalitarian reasoning. I am suggesting that this should also be the guiding aim of blame: to distribute moral and epistemic regard fairly, so as to respect the objective moral and epistemic qualities of members of the moral community. Enhancing relational equality and enhancing the rationality of our blaming practice, on this view, go hand in hand.

Although I have been focusing on population-level blaming practices, the goal of enhancing relational equality can, and should, be implemented on both a personal and an institutional level. Individuals can take steps to try to mitigate their implicit biases, and institutions and governments can implement policies to reduce the adverse effects of implicit bias on the common good. As I have discussed these approaches elsewhere, I will not elaborate here, except to note that I believe that individuals should try to cultivate epistemic virtues (Fricker 2007) and vigilance (Murray 2017) to the greatest extent possible, while institutions and government should implement epistemically responsible protocols (Longing 2008). Even if the institutional approach is more efficacious (as McGeer [2013] suggests), the first method is indispensable, given that fully responsible social institutions are not on the horizon. While we are waiting for effective social engineering policies to come into effect, we should work on our own moral character.

  1. Conclusions

I have argued that blame functions to express emotional and cognitive states to the wrongdoer, but its demands are properly addressed to a suitably sensitive audience. Blame can be expressed unconsciously, as evidenced by neurocognitive, psychological, and sociological data. Because expressive blame as a dispositional response is influenced by implicit biases and other morally-irrelevant situational factors, we should strive to blame people in a way that enhances relational equality, or equality of standing, authority, and esteem. Thus, a prerequisite for rational blame, and one of its proper aims, must be relational equality. This might sound circular, but the same can be said of the heart: pumping oxygenated blood throughout the body is a prerequisite for a fit heart, and this is also the heart’s function. Similarly, relational equality is a prerequisite for a fit blaming practice, and it is also the function (or one of the utmost functions) of this practice. A fit moral community, in which people hold each other responsible on fair and rational grounds, aims to promote relational equality, and the more they do this, the closer they get to this aim.

[1] Distrust is a reactive attitude on McGeer’s view (2008).

Responsibility as a non-ideal conversational practice in non-ideal social conditions: 3 mediating variables


  1. Introduction: Responsibility as a non-ideal conversational practice 

On one influential school of thought, moral responsibility is an interpersonal practice in which someone deploys the reactive attitudes of blame, resentment, approbation, forgiveness, and so on, to another person (P. F. Strawson 1963). Michael McKenna (2013) describes this practice more precisely as a conversational exchange with three paradigmatic stages: (1) a moral contribution, in which someone performs a morally-relevant action, (2) a moral address, in which someone deploys the reactive attitudes, and (3) a moral accounting, in which the addressee responds to the addressor, by, e.g., taking responsibility or denying responsibility.

I think that we can hold people responsible outside of standard conversational contexts, as I have argued elsewhere, but I think the conversational model captures a paradigmatic and very familiar mode of holding-responsible, so I will use it as a basis for the present inquiry.

There are debates about whether the reactive attitudes are purely cognitive (Smart 1961), affective (Wallace 1994), or conative (Sher 2006). These debates concern the internal contents of these states, i.e., those experienced or invoked in the addressor and addressee. One of the objections to non-affective accounts is that they are ‘too sanitized,’ and do not present a realistic picture of moral psychology: even if negative affect is not an essential feature of blame, it is a characteristic reaction, triggered in normal human beings in response to perceived moral violations (McGeer 2013). Non-affective accounts are often driven by normative concerns, particularly the concern that we should construct a ‘civilized’ account of blame that reduces strong emotions (ibid). Whatever the benefits of this approach, it is reasonable to worry that this conception of blame is not psychologically realistic.

Moreover, eve if blame is ideally unemotional, it is, in reality, typically influenced (if not constituted) by affective and automatic processes, which can distort ideal judgments of blame. Thus, it is worthwhile to consider the role of these cognitive mediators. I will propose that affective and automatic states play an integral role in blame and praise.

What is even more neglected in the literature is the fact that responsibility is not simply a set of internal agential states, but rather a complex social practice, influenced by the visible attributes, body language, and lexical preferences of the interlocutors. If the reactive attitudes are part of a conversational practice, as McKenna says, this practice has lexical contents and modes of expression chosen by, or characteristic of, the speakers. Some of these are internal contents of speech (lexical), while others are expressive features of speech (vocal intonation, body language); but all of these variables, whether ‘internal’ or ‘external,’ influence how we perceive and respond to speakers in our conversational encounters. Because we respond to one another quickly and relatively automatically in quotidian conversational exchanges, we are liable to respond to the vocal traits, lexical mannerisms, and visible attributes of our conversational partners.

This is already an important departure from the idealized picture of blame as a rational and impartial normative judgement, but it still misses an important mediating variable: social conditions. Our lexical preferences, body language, and visible appearance are not value-neutral features of our selves, accorded equal weight in our day-to-day conversational exchanges; rather, these traits are valued more or less depending on how closely they approximate to the patriarchal, colonialist, Eurocentric, heteronormative, cisgender cultural norm. The “ideal speaker” – the speaker whose practices and attributes are most respected and valued – is a social construct rooted in a historical value system that favoured, and still favors, cisgender white males, and silences or marginalizes other groups in most contexts. (There are exceptions – for example, men are seen as less credible care-takers because care-taking is coded as feminine). To this day, the speech of historically disenfranchised groups is not given the same credit as the speech of cisgender white men on average (meaning across a broad range of contexts) (Fricker 2007). These biases are the root of “mansplaining” (Sonit 2012), “whitsplaining,” and other communicative practices in which the same speech content is more valued when expressed by the “ideal speaker” according to cultural schemas or stereotypes (Valian 1999). If responsibility is a conversational practice, then it is a practice informed by dominant perspectives on the value of gendered, sexed, and raced speakers.

Once we see the reactive attitudes as part of a complex social practice, embedded in and informed by conditions of social injustice, the scope of analysis expands vastly beyond mere psychological investigation. Blame and praise are subject to, not only normative and psychological, but also anthropological, sociological, linguistic, and historical analysis. Responsibility, understood as a non-ideal conversational practice embedded in non-ideal social and epistemic conditions, stands at the intersection of myriad fields of inquiry.

In this post, I will explore three (I believe) somewhat under-theorized variables that inform “our responsibility practice,” by which I mean the practice in which we express and respond to praise and blame: (1) the role of empathy, (2) the lexical preferences of speakers, and (3) the physical attributes of speakers. I will discuss these variables at the level of social groups, eliding individual differences amongst groups, for the purpose of depicting general trends, in the spirit of social anthropology or feminist sociology. Since I have discussed the role of implicit bias in blaming and praising elsewhere, I will not emphasize this variable here, except when it plays a mediating role in variables (1)-(3).

2. Caveats & clarifications

Some caveats are, of course, in order. The ‘contextualizing’ or ‘situating’ of responsibility – by assessing it as a socially embedded conversational practice – is essentially a project in social anthropology, sociology, or standpoint epistemology. This means that I will be making generalizations about how empathy and group-level communicative habits affect social groups. For example, I will be saying that empathy is disproportionally experienced and enacted by women, and patterns of empathic concern disproportionally benefit cisgender white men, somewhat indemnifying them against blame and punitive sanctions. This doesn’t mean that every member of each social group fits the operant generalization, but these generalizations point to significant social trends – trends that tell us something about how responsibility is distributed across and amongst social groups.

Second, I will be discussing very broad groups, and will not be giving every social group equal attention, simply due to lack of space. I also will not talk much about how converging intersections of oppression compound disadvantages (particularly, susceptibility to blame), while converging intersections of privilege ramify advantages (especially indemnity against blame and penalties). But these intersections are often implied if not explicit.

Third, by “our responsibility practice” I mean to refer to a conversational practice involving the reactive attitudes, where the reactive attitudes are essentially communicative acts, conveying attitudes of “resentment, gratitude, forgiveness, anger,” love, indignation, approbation (Strawson 1963: 66), antipathy (Watson 1982), as well as trust and distrust (McGeer 2008, Helm 2014). These responses mediate our interpersonal relationships in positive and negative ways, depending on how they are enacted. While these reactions likely involve emotional contents in the typical case, I am not committed to saying that conscious affect is a necessary component. As others have argued, we can communicate resentment, distrust, anger, etc., in a dispassionate way, e.g., by unemotionally “unfriending” a contact on FaceBook (viz., Smith 2013: 32). More importantly, however, we can, and often do, communicate resentment, distrust, and hostility toward others in our overt behavior, without consciously experiencing the concomitant emotions, when the resentful/distrustful/hostile (etc.) behavioural response is provoked by unconscious cognitive processes (e.g., implicit bias), without accompanying conscious affect or belief. For example, if a physician deems an African American patient insufficiently responsible to use prescription pain-killers as directed, the physician may be communicating distrustantipathy, or hostility to the patient, without consciously feeling these emotions or holding relevant beliefs about African Americans. These “attitudes” are nonetheless conveyed in the physician’s prescriptive decisions. This interpretation of the reactive attitudes accommodates many of the criticisms of both “emotional” accounts and “sanction” accounts, and resembles Smith’s communicative approach (2013), which is a good fit for the conversational model. Conversation is, after all, an essentially communicative exchange between speakers. (I am not, however, committed to Smith’s protest account, as will become clear in section 6).

Fourth, my analysis of social variables that distort our responsibility practice extends to other, non-conversational practices of holding-responsible, such as praising someone in absentia and blaming the deceased. But for this particular project, I am focusing on the conversational account as delineated by McKenna, as this is an important locus of analysis.

 3. Empathy

It is reasonable to think that empathy plays a role in our responsibility practice. (I use the term empathy broadly to encompass a range of emotional responses to what others are feeling, including sympathy and vicarious joy and anger, following Heidi Maibom 2017).  In Watson’s influential article on the reactive attitudes (1982), he surveys possible explanations for Strawson’s most controversial excuse, viz., having had peculiarly unfortunate formative circumstances. Watson says that empathy can play a role in softening our sense of blame toward a victim of childhood trauma, but this is not a rational basis for clemency: it is, rather, an unreflective emotional response with no normative weight. Still, he suggests that empathy plays a role in ordinary moral cognition.

Erin Kelly (2017) similarly contends that compassion is naturally elicited in response to excusing conditions, such as childhood abuse, and this emotion mollifies ordinary feelings of blame. But Kelly believes that clemency is justified because the perception of an excuse provides rational grounds for suspending or modifying or ordinary sense of antipathy. This view sees compassion as a natural, as well as normatively significant, aspect of blame. Like compassion, empathy may justify a mollification of ordinary blame.

More recently, Jesse Prinz (2011) has argued that empathy is not necessary for moral judgment, but there is an observed correlation between empathy and moral competence, or facility with making moral judgments. Antti Kauppinen (2017) argues, similarly, that even if empathy is not necessary for moral judgment, it is typically implicated in this process. Indeed, “people who lack the ability to put themselves in the place of others and feel for them… appear to have trouble with moral insight and appreciating the grounds of pro-social moral principles, even if their rational powers are largely intact” (2017: 20). If we see the reactive attitudes as a species of moral judgment – which seems nature – then there are good empirical grounds for seeing the reactive attitudes as mediated by empathy.

Notably, empathy is not elicited directly in response to the feelings of others without mediation by other factors. Rather, its role in moral cognition is influenced by cultural stereotypes. This is shown by research on empathy and judgments of guilt or innocence.

For example, perspective taking, which is a component in empathy, predicts a respondents’ tendency to assign guilt to a defendant in a sexual harassment case, and to rate the defendant’s behaviour high in severity, pervasiveness, and unwelcomeness (Zimmerman & Myers 2013). This partly explains why women (higher in perspective-taking) make harsher sexual harassment judgments than men (ibid.). Rape-myth acceptance (or acceptance of stereotypes about rape victims) and respondent gender are also known to influence judgments of rape cases (Sussenbach et al. 2016), though gender might be a heuristic for empathy. This suggests that empathy and rape-myth acceptance interact, probably implicitly (ibid)., to influence judgments of guilt in sexual harassment cases.

Similarly, researchers on racial bias find that “adults view black girls as less innocent and more adult-like than their white peers, especially in the age range of 5-14” (Epstein et al. 2017). This helps to explain why Black girls are five times more likely than white girls, and twice as likely as Black boys, to be suspended at school, three times as likely as white girls to be referred to juvenile detention, 20% more likely to be charged with a crime, 20% more likely to be detained, and so on. Black boys, too, are seen as less innocent than white boys (Goff et a;. 2014), but Black girls are still twice as vilified. This is probably because Black girls stand at the intersection of two types of bias: gender and racial. Both femininity and Blackness are stigmatized (albeit in different ways) in our culture, due to the pervasiveness of stereotypes rooted in European colonial patriarchy. There is also evidence that empathy mediates judgments of guilt and innocence in general; for example, when people are given more personal information about a victim (e.g., the victim’s name), they exhibit more empathy for the victim, and blame the victim less, while blaming the perpetrator more (Phyllis & Costa 2004). This does not capture all of the dynamics of blame, of course, but it suggests that empathy, mediated by cultural stereotypes, may play a role in the cultural vilification and collective blaming of Black girls.

 Supposing that empathy mediates our attributions of guilt and innocence in a way that, on balance, vilifies women, Black people, and (especially) Black women (when relevant stereotypes are salient), what can we infer about the characteristic role of empathy in our responsibility practice? Prima facie, the interplay between empathy and cultural stereotypes produces a system of relations that, on balance, disproportionally punishes historically disenfranchised groups, and disproportionally rewards privileged groups (i.e., cisgender white males) – at least in contexts in which implicit biases are salient. (For example, women are seen as less innocent when gender bias is primed). While individuals may be more or less susceptible to empathy-mediating cultural stereotypes, the data show that responsibility as a social practice disproportionally favors the privileged. This means that they are relatively indemnified against blame and punitive sanctions.

We can trace still more general trends by evaluating the role of empathy in broad social structures. Who bears the burden of empathizing with others in our culture? And who receives the benefits of that empathic investment in the common good? This will tell us something about social roles, and how those roles influence our blaming and praising habits.

There is evidence that white people are less empathetic to Black people than other white people. For example, research indicates that white observers show less physiological arousal in response to Black people’s pain than white people’s pain, and their lack of arousal correlates with their level of implicit racial bias (Forgiarini et al. 2011). This supports the theory that there is a “racial empathy gap” that favours white people on balance (ibid). This theory, in turn, helps to explain why Black people have less access to analgesics for a range of painful heath problems, and have trouble accessing needed prescriptions (Silverstein 2013). In another experiment, subjects reported greater empathy for a white defendant than a Black defendant in a larceny scenario, as well as making attributions that were more situational (and less characterological), and assigning more lenient punishments to the white defendant (Dovido & Reed 2002). This may be why Black people are more often subjected to police searches, police violence, drug-related arrests, mandatory minimum sentences, longer sentences, felony disenfranchisement, and so on (Quigley 2016). These practices highlight the problem of systemic racism in judicial, sentencing, and enforcement norms in the U.S. (ACLU 2014). The retributive attitudes that underlie these judicial norms are part of our broader responsibility practice. It is a reasonable conjecture, then, that the racial empathy gap distorts our responsibility practice, resulting in disproportionate blame toward Black people.

Next, who is expressing empathy in our culture, and who is caring for the vulnerable? On balance, women. Longitudinal research spanning almost 40 years shows that women demonstrate higher empathic response scores than men of the same age, and the difference increases with age (Mestre et al. 2009). Empathy is expressed in the activation of mirror neutrons, and women show more activation in the inferior frontal cortex, which involves mirror neurons, when asked to focus on their own feelings or the feelings of others, compared to men (Schult-Ruther et al. 2008). Women also demonstrate more contagious yawning, which implicates mirror neurons (Norscia et al. 2016). Is it any wonder, then, that daughters provide more care to their elder parents than sons, and invest more time and resources in caretaking (Grigoryeva 2017)? Or that women still do a majority of the domestic labour, even when they earn more than their male partner in a heterosexual relationship (Layonette & Crompton 2014)? The balance of evidence shows that women are the primary empaths, and primary caretakers, in the U.S.

Who are the beneficiaries of women’s disproportionate investment of empathy and care? Predominantly cisgender white men (CWM, for short), and other white women – but, notably, CWMs are contributing far less than their fair share to the “empathy economy.” In fact, when we consider white men’s socioeconomic status (SES), it becomes apparent that they are contributing far less than they owe, and collecting far more than they deserve, generating a massive imbalance in the distribution of empathic goods and services.

White men are the wealthiest social demographic; for every dollar earned by a CWM, white women earn 82 cents, Black men earn 73 cents, and Black women earn 67 cents (Nelson 2017, Patten 2016). This is significant because there is evidence that class bias, in addition to racial bias, plays a significant role in the justice system and other social institutions. The Sentencing Project (2013) reports that poverty exacerbates racial bias: poor black defendants received sentences on average 13% longer than other defendants. Obviously rich Americans have better healthcare and better access to medicine than poor Americans, even with the Affordable Care Act. Furthermore, one study purports to show that differential empathic responses to pain in Black and white people are due to class-bias, not racial bias per se (Trawalter et al. 2016). It is reasonable to think that empathy is mediated by class bias, resulting in a system of relations that favours the wealthy, i.e., predominantly CWMs. Thus, CWMs benefit indirectly from financial privilege.

High-SES individuals benefit more, but contribute less than other groups to the empathy economy. There is abundant evidence that wealthy people are empathically impaired. For example, the wealthy are less attuned to others’ “motivational relevance”; higher-SES people pay less attention to other people in everyday contexts, and become less attentive when primed with a human face, compared to less wealthy people (Dietze & Knowles 2016). Wealthy people report less compassion, and show less heart-rate deceleration (a common empathic response to others), in response to videos depicting suffering in others (Stellar et al. 2012); they rate low in scores of empathic accuracy, judge the emotions of others less accurately, and make less accurate inferences about emotions from images of facial movements (Kraus et al. 2016); they’re more likely to cut off other drivers at intersections and pedestrians at cross walks, even after making eye contact with the person (Piff et al. 2010); and so on. This suggests that wealthy people are not contributing fairly to the empathy economy, and they may even lack the reflective capacity to do so. (These studies measure relatively automatic, unconscious responses to social cues, which are not under the agent’s immediate reflective control). The critical point is that wealthy people – predominantly CWMs – are less empathic on average than other groups.

The resulting picture is an empathic economy (so to speak) in which women do a disproportionate amount of the empathic labour, CWMs receive a disproportionate amount of the empathic rewards, and Black people are relatively empathically disenfranchised. This “secondary” economy mirrors the financial economy in that CWMs are at the top. It also, by the same token, reinforces the financial economy, encouraging women to perform low-paying, undervalued empathic (caretaking) labour, and situating wealthy white men as the normal and nature recipients of this labour, as persons whose pain matters, who deserve better healthcare, and who are presumptively innocent and credible.

If empathy mediates our blaming attitudes and practices, as the evidence suggests, this is very troubling indeed, since these imbalances will tip the scales in favor of white men. They will result, that is, in an emotional economy that unfairly blames and sanctions Black people, while offering compassion, forgiveness, and indemnity against sanctions to CWMs.

The key implication for responsibility as a social practice is that the characteristic role of empathy in our system of social relationship is to encourage unfair and disproportionate blame toward Black people, and unfair tolerance and clemency toward CWMs, on balance. Women, meanwhile, are being (in effect) emotionally extorted, but their undervalued empathic labour, while beneficial in many context (such as when elder care is needed), reinforces this racist hierarchy, at least when racial stereotypes are salient. Women should not necessarily cease empathizing, but should carefully redirect their empathy.

Some would say that we should eliminate empathy from our moral lives, including our moral responsibility practice. Perhaps most notably, Paul Bloom, the author of “Against Empathy: The Case for Rational Compassion” (2016), argues that we should excise empathy from moral decision-making, but he allows that empathy may play an important role in other aspects of social life (Robinson 2017). Whether eliminating empathy is a realistic psychological proposal, it is clear that we must, at the very least, recalibrate empathy to effectuate a fairer distribution between privileged groups and historically disenfranchised groups, and we should encourage men to bear more of the empathic burden. This recalibration/redistribution approach may be combined with a program of limiting the role of empathy in moral cognition to whatever extent possible. Yet I worry that we cannot excise empathy from moral judgment without thereby banishing it from social life altogether, since the two are deeply imbricated; moral judgments are principally judgments about our relationships to other people: what we owe others, how we should treat them, etc. So if we excise empathy, perhaps we will lose the motivation to care for others. Still, the cultivation of “rational compassion” could perhaps mediate empathy in positive ways, in which case rational compassion and empathic recalibration would be complementary approaches. Perhaps we should temper empathy with rational compassion.

4. Communicative habits

If responsibility is indeed a conversational practice involving two or more speakers, it must involve communicative habits, such as lexical preferences and vocal register, used by the speakers involved in the exchange. This is clear enough. But these practices are not equally demographically distributed or value-neutral. On the contrary, they are unevenly distributed across demographics, and unequally valued based on their distribution patterns, and how closely they approximate to the idealized cisgender male norm. On scrutiny, these value imbalances generate inequalities in our responsibility practice.

In “Language and Woman’s Place” (1973), Robin Lakeoff argued that women have distinct (average) lexical habits, acquired through sex role socialization, and these habits are generally socially disvalued. Examples include: “weaker expletives (oh dear versus damn); trivializing adjectives (divine versus great); tag questions used to express speakers’ opinions (The way prices are rising is horrendous, isn’t it?); rising intonation in declaratives (as seen in the second part of the sequence, What’s for dinner? Roast beef?); and mitigated requests (Would you please close the door? Versus Close the door) (Tannen 1975: 10-18, cited in Kendall & Tannen 2015: 549). Later, Zimmerman and West found that men interrupt women more often than the reverse in ordinary conversations (1975, cited in Kendall & Tannen 2015: 549). Recent sociolinguistic research confirms that women’s communicative habits enhance cooperation whereas men’s enhance social dominance in general (Leaper, 1991; Mulac, Bradac, & Gibbons, 2001), and that, “on average, women use more expressive, tentative, and polite language than men…, especially in situations of conflict” (Basow & Rubenfield, 2003, cited in Merchant 2012). Furthermore, women are still interrupted more than men (Hancock & Rubin 2014), including in judicial arguments, even when controlling for seniority (Jacobi & Schweers 2017).

 Women also use distinct, acculturated vocal registers, which are also socially disvalued. These registers include creaky voice (“vocal fry”), breathy voice, whisper, and certain stylized intonations (Sicoli 2017). High instances of creaky voice have been observed amongst Chicanos as well as “upwardly mobile urban American women,” and this register is often criticized as being “annoying, irritating, or a fashion fad” (ibid., cf. Yuasa 2010, Wolk, Abdelli-Beruh & Slavin 2012). Research finds that people hold negative attitudes toward voices with vocal fry and positive attitudes to those without it (Abbey & Alison 2014). In addition, breathy voice is perceived as feminine (Borsel et al. 2009), and this perception can trigger implicit gender bias in contexts in which femininity is stigmatized, e.g., leadership positions (Hoyt & Burnett 2013) and job interviews (Latu et al. 2015). There is also evidence that people find speakers with lower-pitched voices (i.e., predominantly male voices) more attractive, competent, and trustworthy on average (Garber 2012).

In addition to lexical and vocal patterns, speakers can express emotions in their voice. It is well known that when women express anger, they are seen as less competent, whereas when men express anger, they are seen as more competent (Brescoll & Uhlmann 2008; Brescoll & Uhlmann, 2008; Tiedens, 2001). In one study, women who expressed a dissenting opinion with anger were perceived as less convincing, whereas men who expressed the same opinion with anger were perceived as more convincing (Salerno et al. 2016).

Women are not the only group to face discrimination as a result of their acculturated vocal habits. African American Vernacular English (AAVE), spoken by many Black people, is distinguished from so-called “Standard English” (spoken primarily by white people), and is given second-class status in the popular imagination. Standard English (SE) is “valued by the general public as being more logical, more precise, and even more beautiful than other varieties,” whereas “other, nonstandard varieties are stigmatized as corrupted forms of the standard and [in most jurisdictions] kept out of the classroom” (Siegel 1999: 701). (There are some exceptions, such as the Oakland Ebonics Resolution of 1996, which mandated instruction in AAVE for native vernacular speakers; but this policy was extremely controversial and met strong resistance [CNN 1997]). Many researchers believe that preference for SE in the classroom partly explains the racial gap in average reading achievement scores (Gill 2013); AAVE speakers essentially face discrimination because their native language is not accepted as legitimate in institutional contexts, and they are forced to conform to the white vernacular standard. White children, by contrast, are not expected to do all schooling in a non-vernacular second language.

Indeed, prejudice against AAVE extends to virtually all American social institutions. Research on housing discrimination finds that applicants face discrimination even when they never meet the rental agent in person, when the applicants use AAVE or have a feminine voice on the phone; Black women were found to face the greatest discrimination (Massey & Lundy 2001). Another study finds that both Black and white managers discriminate against job applicants who use AAVE, or SE with some elements of AAVE, in phone interviews; they rated the Black applicants as being less intelligent, less ambitious, and less qualified (Henderson 2001). It is likely that Black and white managers showed similar levels of implicit racial bias (IRB) because IRB is acculturated in everyone, though white people demonstrate higher IRB on implicit association tests (Project Implicit), particularly those who live in southern and eastern states, since IRB is geographically concentrated (Mooney 2014). Bias against AAVE may also, according to linguist John Rickford, give rise to systematically racist judicial norms, as evidenced in the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the fatal shooting of Trayvon Martin (Rigogliosi 2014).

 Trans people also face discrimination on the basis of their vocal quality. Trans folks may may or may not have gender-normative voices, but in either case, they face high rates of discrimination on the basis of vocal style. If they have non-normative vocal qualities (e.g., speaking frequency, resonance, pitch, breathiness), they face characteristic transphobic discrimination, such as refusal of medical care, housing, goods and services, workplace discrimination, and high incidences of violence (Whittle et al. 2007). If they have normative feminine voices, they face the kinds of discrimination characteristically experienced by feminine women. Those with normative masculine voices are most likely to escape voice-based discrimination, but this still leaves a majority of the trans population open to unfair treatment on the basis of their communicative habits.

Because communicative habits are largely gendered, sexed, and raced in our culture, and the characteristic communicative practices of CWMs are perceived as the normative ideal in most contexts, all other social groups face relative discrimination on the basis of their characteristic speech habits. Speakers of African American Vernacular English receive lower academic scores, are perceived as less intelligent, ambitious, and qualified for jobs, and are seen as less worthy of housing, amongst other indignities; women are perceived as less attractive, competent, and trustworthy than male speakers, and are interrupted and silenced more often, indicating that their speech is less valued and less believed; trans people face discrimination in housing, healthcare, employment, and so on. These group-level inequalities suggest that we see CWMs, on balance, as more responsible than other groups across a variety of key dimensions: as renters, homeowner, medical patients, employees, students, academics, coworkers, and knowers, or communicators of valuable information (see Fricker 2007). We see this group as presumptively responsible in these respects, and are reluctant to blame, distrust, or sanction them.

Hence, our responsibility practice is tipped in favour of speakers whose lexical habits, vocal register, and diction is stereotypically cisgender, white, and male.

5. Non-verbal communication & the body

Conversation can take place on the phone or a voice chat app, but it often occurs in person. This makes room for habits of non-verbal communication and physical appearance to play a role in speaker perception.

Feminist philosophers have analyzed how women’s physical embodiment is inscribed by patriarchy, in such a way that women’s bodies, on average, are smaller than men’s, and take up less space (Beauvoir 1964); women’s gender-normative clothing, including dresses, fitted clothing, long hair, and high-heel shoes, are more constraining, and women’s normative body language is confined, tentative, and uncertain (Young 1990: 145-147). Women do not “manspread,” or extend their bodies in space, to the same extend as cisgender men. Fat women are perceived as “unruly” and “problematic,” because they do not conform to the ideal of femininity: small, delicate, and “disciplined” (Gay 2017). Weakness, childishness, and vulnerability are sexualized in women but not in men (Wade 2013).

Women who violate the norms of feminine embodiment – who take up physical space – are punished. Weight-based discrimination affects people’s employment prospects, educational experiences, romantic relationships, health care accessibility, and mental health treatment, but it disproportionally harms women (Fikkan & Rothblum 2012). For example, men report significantly less desire to work with a fat woman, but show no similar bias against working with a fat man (Jasper & Klassen 1990). Anecdotally, it appears that women who “manspread” attract more stares and glares, whereas men who do the same are seen as more attractive (Petter 2017). Women who wear high heels (Gueguen 2016) and have long hair (Mesco & Beresczkei 2013) are more sexualized by straight men.

This suggests that women who violate feminine norms of non-verbal communication and physical embodiment are perceived as being less responsible across several key domains, including; as homeowners, tenants, employees, and coworkers. They also are seen as less eligible sexual partners, meaning that they are punished or sanctioned as sexual agents. While this population may not be explicitly criticized for defying binary gender norms, they are, in effect, treated with distrust and antipathy in relevant domains.

In addition, people with gender-nonconforming mannerisms – such as men with feminine body language and bodily comportment, or women with masculine features – are liable to similar kinds of discrimination, viz., in housing, employment, and relationship opportunities. They face similar distrust and antipathy in central aspects of their lives.

6. Relational equality

I have argued that the role of empathy, lexical preferences, and physical embodiment in our responsibility practice – defined as an interrelated network of conversational exchanges – biases this practice in favour of CWMs and against other social groups, at least, in contexts in which relevant stereotypes are salient. (For example, women are disfavored in leadership roles, but not in caretaking roles, since women are perceived as “natural caretakers”). These inequalities create biased responsibility attributions across key institutional domains (medicine, the law, education), as well as our interpersonal relationships.

How can we rectify these distorting biases? Clearly, we cannot treat our responsibility practice as independent of our broader context of institutional and social interactions, since it is a constitutive part of this human “ecosystem,” and cannot, in practice, be dissociated from it, or analyzed in isolation without remainder. The biases that affect broader social systems necessarily affect responsibility as a part of that network. Attempts to isolate constitutive features of responsibility, without taking into account this broader picture, may be illuminating in their own right, but they are necessarily incomplete.

There are various proposals for how to address inequalities and biases, some of which I have discussed elsewhere, but addressing these questions is beyond the scope of the present analysis. Instead, I will make some closing statements about the relation of responsibility to equality.

While philosophers have devoted much time and attention to analyzing the nature of excusing and exempting conditions and the psychology of blame and praise, they only recently revived the idea that responsibility is for something, i.e., has a particular function in our shared social life. Functionalist proposals include that blame enhances moral agency (Vargas 2008), protests moral violations (Smith 2012), expresses certain moral values (Franklin 2012), and shields moral communities from harm (Bell 2012). These proposals are all prima facie compelling, but we might seek a unifying thread that ties them together. If I am right that inequality systematically distorts our perceptions and judgments of responsibility, then one of the central aims promoted by any moral conversationalist should be equality, or the reduction of bias. Hence, at least one of the functions of responsibility – perhaps the main function – should be to cultivate equality, in order for the practice of holding-responsible to be fair, equal, and mutually respectful. If this practice is not fair, then disenfranchised groups have no good reason to want to participate in it, and the “moral community” that Strawson envisioned is impossible. As things stand, many people are morally disenfranchised and have very little reason to trust others or expect responsibility attributions to be rational. Hence, enhancing equality is a primary goal for anyone interests in having a legitimate responsibility practice, as opposed to a weak facsimile in which blame and praise reinforce historical oppressions.

Moreover, enhancing equality helps to enhance other, higher-order goals, including: enhancing the moral agency of the group, protesting moral violations (insofar as they pertain to fairness, equality, and the dignity of persons), expressing a commitment to important moral values, and shielding the moral community from systemic injustice. So, enhancing equality enhances the aims touted by other functionalists. Indeed, this aim may be logically prior to the others, insofar as having a community in which trust and cooperation are expected and exchanged is prerequisite to realizing these other moral goals.

The importance of equality outside of financial transactions is defended by Elizabeth Anderson (2015), who promotes the value of relational equality, or equality of authority, esteem, and standing. Relational equality ensures justice on an institutional and interpersonal level. This view is distinguished from classic distributive theories of justice (e.g., Ralws), which focus narrowly on the fair distribution of financial resources, ignoring non-monetary values such as dignity and respect. These distributive theories, on scrutiny, are condescending and disrespectful to the socially disenfranchised and marginalized, who are viewed as, in effect, charity cases who need handouts from generous benefactors. Instead of seeing the vulnerable as pitiable and wretched, justice in the true sense requires that we see the least well-off as equal citizens, deserving of equal respect and standing with other citizens. This perspective on what we owe to others treats the historically disenfranchised with the dignity that they deserve as persons.

Notably, one of the social practices within the purview of relational equality is our responsibility practice, and this practice fails to treat historically disenfranchised groups with the respect that they deserve, due to the influence of hegemonic stereotypes. To achieve the ideal of relational equality, then, we need to rectify inequalities within our responsibility practice. But these two goals are co-implicated in a positive feedback loop, since achieving relational equality requires purging our responsibility practice of harmful biases, and eliminating biases from our responsibility practice requires relational equality. We must pursue these ends, then, at the same time. The thing to do is to be vigilant about cultural stereotypes and myths, and debunk them whenever possible, and as effectively as possible, as this will advance both ends simultaneously. In other words, to advance relational equality within our responsibility practice and elsewhere, we need to look beyond any individual context, to the role of cultural stereotypes in broader cultural narratives and public discourses. The project, then, is an extremely copious and interdisciplinary one, which requires cooperation and constant effort.

7. Concluding remarks


Charlottesville and the responsibilities of political actors: A resistance model of responsibility

Written as an ally.

The Charlottesville white supremacy rally

trump comment charlottesville.jpg

In response to the white supremacy rally in Charlottesville yesterday, Donald Trump stated that he condemned the “hatred, bigotry, and violence on many sides” – which is just the kind of tepid and dithering statement that we’ve come to expect from the President. This is the same man who received the endorsement of former KKK leader David Duke during his campaign, and, rather than reject the endorsement outright, prevaricated and pretended ignorance, stating that he “would have to look at the group… I mean, I don’t know what group you’re talking about.” Duke participated in the Charlottesville rally, and publicly reaffirmed his support for Trump.

Later, Trump rebuked the white supremacists in a press conference, but it was 48 hours after the event, in an apparently prepared statement, written by someone else. Not 24 hours later, he re-affirmed his original claim that there was wrongdoing “on both sides.”



In contrast, the mayor of Charlottesville, Michael Signer, immediately rebuked the white supremacists to the press, and held Trump partly responsible, saying, “I’m not going to make any bones about it. I place the blame for a lot of what you’re seeing in America today right at the doorstep of the White House and the people around the President.” Later, Signer said that Trump has emboldened white supremacists to rally and commit violence in his town, pointing to “the campaign he ran” as evidence of culpability.

Signer is not the only one to assert that Trump is responsible for inflaming racism and emboldening racists to commit violent acts, increasing the level of overt racism in America. In fact, this claim seems relatively uncontroversial. (This is not to say that there is quantitatively more racism than before, but that racism is becoming more explicit and, hence, more violent). This claim has interesting implications for theories of responsibility that treat blame and praise as responsibility attributions, expressive acts, or ‘reactive attitudes’ (Strawson 1963).

In this entry, I’ll explore the ability of competing theories of responsibility to make sense of Signer’s claim that Trump is responsible for the rally in Chalottesville. I’ll suggest that a resistance model of responsibility, akin to the resistance model of epistemology, better captures how activists hold political actors and public figures responsible for wrongdoing. Blame and praise, on this model, function to promote relations of equality, which in turn allow us to hold one another responsible in a fair and proportional manner.

The alternative theories that I will consider are (what I will call) control theory, character theory, agency-enhancement theory, group agency theory, and finally, my preferred theory of resistance.

Four theories & a proposal

Very early in this blog, I distinguished between two classic theories of responsibility: one that ties responsibility attributions to control, and another that ties responsibility attributions to character. On the control view, people are only responsible for choices that are under their control, or traceable to past instances of voluntary choice, while on the character view, people are responsible for actions that express their deep-seated character traits, regardless of whether or not they have control over those traits. Many philosophers hold views that approximate to one or the other of these descriptions, which resemble the ‘accountability view’ and ‘attributability view’ as described by Watson (1996).

There is also a third prominent view, on which responsibility attributions function to enhance the target agent’s reasons-responsiveness, and are justified insofar as they serve this purpose. This view is consequentialist, whereas the previous two are typically construed as desert-based.

In contrast to these direct, face-to-face models of responsibility, in which praise and blame are addressed directly to the target agent (at least, in the paradigm case), there are group theories of responsibility, which hold individuals responsible for the collective actions of the group. One prominent example is List and Pettit’s theory of corporate agency.

I will argue that none of these theories succeeds in underwriting the claim that Trump bears responsibility, in a substantive sense, for the rally in Charlottesville. More broadly, these theories are not capable of underwriting our shared practices of holding public figures (publicly) responsible for their normatively significant choices – shared practices that we engage in regularly, and that make substantive democracy possible. I urge that we move to a resistance model of responsibility, on which praise and blame serve to foster a shared sensitivity to moral facts and, correspondingly, a shared democratic sensibility.


The control view holds agents responsible if they are capable of exercising control over their choices, past and present, and capable of foreseeing the consequences of those choices.

At the present moment, Trump cannot, by his own choices, restore the country to the lower decibel of overt racist resentment that existed prior to his inauguration, simply because racist factions have taken on a life of their own, and cannot now be reined in by any single actor. (This speaks to the general inadequacy of ‘atomistic views,’ so-called by Vargas [2013], to which I will return shortly). So, Trump can’t control the effects of his actions.

It is also unlikely that Trump could have foreseen these effects, even in coarse-grained detail, since he could not even have foreseen his election win based on prior poll results, much less the multitude of consequences that followed, down to the (very specific) rally in Charlottesville. There is also a substantive question as to his reflective capabilities, which many commentators have remarked on, and this casts doubt on his ability to project realistic future scenarios and make viable plans. If he cannot do these things, then he cannot be responsible for subjectively unpredictable eventualities like racist rallies. But even a more reflectively capable person could not have foreseen an event as specific as the Charlottesville rally, nor the incident of  domestic terrorism that took place there.

Notably, the influential control theorist J.M. Fischer (2012) has debated M. Vargas (2005) on the degree of foresight needed to be responsible for an action outcome. The two philosophers question whether a hypothetical jerk named Jeff could have foreseen his gradual descent into jerkdom, evolving from a relatively benign teenager into a hostile middle manager. Vargas argues that even medium-grained foreseeability is too much to expect of human beings, who have extremely limited epistemic capacities – which is not to mention that we are highly susceptible to cognitive biases that undermine our forecasting abilities, such as affective ignorance (see Haybron 2008), planning fallacy, and self-serving bias. These biases can lead us to misjudge how things will go for us and how we’ll adapt to different situations. Another confounding factor in predictive reasoning is the possibility of transformative experiences, which L.A. Paul describes as character-changing but difficult to anticipate and impossible to forecast in full (2015). A transformative experience could turn someone from a saint into a jerk and vice versa quite expectedly.

At the end of the day, we can’t know for sure whether someone like Jeff the jerk was capable of foreseeing his jerky future self, since we can’t see into his mind; but I think that Vargas’ argument wasn’t meant to solve this problem, so much as to call into question the utility of a metric that requires this high a degree of second-person access to another’s subjective states. We blame and praise people every day without knowing much about them – especially public figures, whose lives are a mystery besides their curated online profile.

Trump seems to be a lot like Jeff, except that he became president. Could Trump have foreseen that he would become, not only POTUS, but a POTUS who fuels explicit racism and violence against historically disenfranchised groups, eventuating in a white supremacy rally and an act of domestic terrorism in Charlottesville? It would be difficult for anyone to predict this outcome, since it depends on the sympathetic cooperation of many other people, some of whom typically operate under a low profile. Surely it doesn’t require a comprehensive sociological analysis to determine whether a public figure is responsible for collective harms, perpetuated by his supporters and committed in his name. Trump in particular seems incapable of this degree of analytical rigour, but this has not prevented people from blaming him for his negative influence on the political climate.

Trump is an interesting case study because, as president, he has such a wide sphere of influence. The paradigm case of responsibility attribution – particularly in Strawsonian accounts, but also more generally – is a dyadic interpersonal exchange between two people: A harms B and B blames A if A has the requisite capacities or traits. In the Jeff scenario, Jeff directly harms his employees, who are in a position to hold him directly accountable. (They might hold him accountable through an intermediary such as the HR department, but this is still just one remove from a direct dyadic relation). If Signer is right that Trump has emboldened white supremacists to commit harassment and violence, then he has provoked a set of negative effects indirectly, through the sympathetic choices of many intermediary agents, and he has harmed entire social groups, also indirectly via intermediaries. This marks a significant departure from the paradigm dyadic scenario. When someone’s sphere of influence is this wide, it becomes much harder to envision the likely consequences of the person’s choices in any grain of detail, since the effects of the person’s choices depend on the uptake or sympathetic response from the community, and it is difficult to anticipate this scale of collective activity.

These complications make it difficult to assess a political actor’s responsibility in terms of control.


Character theory holds an agent responsible for his* character traits or moral personality.  On this view, it doesn’t matter if Trump could have foreseen the consequences of his actions – he’s responsible for his ingrained virtues and vices.

This view might support the contention that Trump is partly to blame for the rally in Charlottesville, but only if we trace those events to Trump’s character flaws. A similar problem arises here, since Trump did not directly cause or expressly endorse the Charlottesville rally, he merely incited sympathetic actors to express bigotry according to their own values and means. But if Trump in fact emboldened them to act more overtly than they otherwise would have, there is at least a relation of counterfactual dependence  between his choices as president and the choices of sympathetic white supremacists. This counterfactual relation could, theoretically, ground a blaming response that links Trump’s character to the Charlottesville rally.

There are salient weaknesses to this analysis, however. Perhaps the main one is the indirectness of the relation between Trump and the actions of the white supremacists. Since Trump didn’t explicitly endorse the rally, he doesn’t seem to have the (robust) character traits required to be deemed responsible in characterological terms, except in the most indirect and diluted sense. Once again, it’s hard to say for sure, since most philosophical examples deal with direct causal chains between character traits and consequences, such as helping your friend out of fellow-feeling (Arpaly 2014) or forgetting your pet in the backseat of a hot car due to lack of appropriate consideration (Sher 2010). In these well-trodden examples, the agent’s character is embodied and expressed in her own physical form. It is not clear that we can hold someone attributability-responsible for character traits expressed and enacted, not through the primary agent’s embodied actions, but through a chain of actors acting in sympathy with him, or in a spirit of cooperation and rapport with him. In the multi-actor case, the causal link is extended and ramified indefinitely in social space, and can take unpredictable twists and turns, depending on the composition of the chain. It is not clear how to evaluate these cases of sympathetic action on the basis of either the choices, or the character traits, of the principal actor – the one who sets in motion the chain of action.


Manuel Vargas provides a third perspective (2013). He says that responsibility attributions are appropriate insofar as they enhance the recipient’s agency through the exercise of his rational faculties. (One cannot simply cajole or coerce the person – these manoeuvres are not constitutive of responsibility-holding per se). On this model, we should hold Trump responsible only if doing so is likely to positively influence his behaviour. Since Trump seems fairly non-responsive to criticism in general, blame is generally inappropriate. Moreover, since normal people don’t have a direct relationship with the President, we can’t influence him directly; we can only publish, tweet, blog, etc., favourable or unfavourable comments about him, which he probably won’t read and wouldn’t take seriously anyways. But then, what are doing when we express these attitudes? We might be engaging in editorializing practices or political resistance, but this doesn’t count as ‘holding responsible’ in Vargas’ sense: it is external to the ‘responsibility system’ within which we address each other as rational peers.

Strawson holds a similar view on which the reactive attitudes must be addressed directly to the primary actor – otherwise these acts are external to the ‘participatory stance’ in which we address one other as rational agents. Indirect criticisms may serve the purpose of excluding, treating, or managing the object of censure, but not of holding that person responsible. These indirect expressive practices putatively help to consolidate the moral community and banish outsiders, so they serve an important regulatory function, but it is not a function that ‘responsiblizes’ ingroup members – rather, it keeps out bad apples.

In ore specific terms, Strawson says that we should take ‘the objective attitude’ toward a non-responsive person, as a way of excluding the person from our social sphere. One can see how the is attitude would serve an effective regulatory function in intimate social circles, since ingroup members would be encouraged to cooperate and respect one other, while excluded individuals would be outcast and ‘quarantined,’ so to speak. I can expel someone from my social group and never see her again. But the objective attitude doesn’t work this way when addressed to public figures whose choices affect everyone’s lives through expansive institutional channels, whether we like it or not. The objective attitude, by definition, excludes blaming attitudes, which are reserved for peers. But excluding and isolating political actors is useless, since there is no direct interpersonal relationship linking the offended individual or social group to the offensive political actor.

This raises the question: what pragmatic function can silence and ostracism serve in a society in which political actors are untouchable, and silence has enabled generations of racial oppression and white privilege? At a vigil for the Charlottesville victims last night, a participant held up a sign saying, “white silence = violence.” Many participants also denounced Trump’s tepid response and inaction. In other words, vigil-holders blamed Trump and his cabinet, even though they were not present. Activists rejected silence as a form of complicity in racial injustice. The rationality of taking the objective stance is called into question when social exclusion is impossible, and withholding judgment amounts to complicity.

It is worth mentioning that this critique also speaks against responsibility nihilism, the view that we should do away with praise and blame altogether. Activists demand that we ‘speak justice to power’ rather than remaining silent and allowing the status quo to roll forward.

Group Agency

It might be useful to look at Trump, and other political actors, through the lens of group agency.

List and Pettit influentially describe a group agent as a collection of intentional agents who (1) intend to collectively perform a given goal, (2) intend to do their part to achieve that goal, (3) believe that others share the same group intention, and (3) each believe that the first three conditions are met. In a very loose sense, a nation state could satisfy these conditions, inasmuch as citizens are (ideally) working together toward democratic goals held in common and intend to foster those goals. Like corporations (paradigmatic group agents), nations are hierarchically structured and stratified; but in nations, this is a serious problem, since established hierarchies are colonialist and patriarchal, not desert-based, rational, or conducive to democratic ideals. As a result, nations barely quality as group agents (if at all), since socially privileged groups are actively undermining the common good and subverting the rational grounds for cooperation. This was evidenced in Charlottesville, where white supremacists rallied to preserve the unearned historical privileges to which they were never entitled – privileges that fundamentally undermine the functioning of democratic institutions and the cultivation of a shared democratic sensibility. Nonetheless, the U.S. officially (on paper) aspires to be a group agent in which all citizens are equal and committed to justice, even if the reality is a far cry from the ideal.

Trump’s cabinet might be a better candidate for group agency, since it is more coherent, coordinated, and interdependent. The pertinent question concerns how responsibility should be allocated to Trump and other members of his cabinet, seen as a group agent.

 On List and Pettit’s view, group agents can be held responsible for their actions, and members of those groups can bear different kinds of responsibility depending on their role in the group. ‘Designers’ are responsible for laying down the group’s operating procedures, ‘members’ are responsible for performing their designated role within the group, and ‘enactors’ are responsible for what they do in the group’s name. Even if particular members have no control over the actions of the group as a whole (e.g., actions taken by the administration), they bear responsibility for those actions by sheer affiliation (List & Pettit 2011, p. 164). One of the reasons for loosening the constraint of individual-level control for members of a group agent (compared to individuals) is that attributions of corporate responsibility, according to List and Pettit, serve a partly ‘responsiblizing’ function: even if “it may not be strictly appropriate to hold [the group responsible, since some of the conditions necessary for fitness for responsibility are missing… holding it responsible may actually prompt the grouping to incorporate and organize against the condemned behaviour” (p. 169). That is, we do not restrict blame to principal members of group agents (like administrators, managers, and boards of directors), since holding the entire collective responsible, even when individual-level control is lacking, incites members to enforce codes of conduct within the organization. The posited ‘responsibilizing’ function of corporate responsibility is similar to the agency-enhancing rationale of Vargas’ model, except that corporate responsibility can influence principal agents via ancillary group members, whereas responsibility in Vargas’ sense must target the principal agent directly.

If the U.S. is seen as a (barely cohesive) group agent, then every citizen is responsible for the current state of racial injustice and specific incidents like the Charlottesville rally. But this analysis doesn’t make much sense, since many citizens are engaging in active resistance, including the counter-protestors in Charlottesville. Blame should be restricted to racist groups and their sympathizers instead of blanketing the population indiscriminately.

Instead, Trump’s cabinet might be held responsible, as a group agent, for failing to intervene adequately to combat racial oppression, inciting racist demonstrations. In his role as president, Trump may be especially blameworthy for the collective choices of his cabinet, while each cabinet members is responsible for his or her contribution. These layers of responsibility (leader versus member) do not dilute or cancel our one another, but are, according to List and Pettit, compatible and non-interfering. This is justified by the responsibilizing function of corporate responsibility.

This analysis expands the scope of Trump’s responsibility, since he can be held responsible for the actions of his cabinet (including, for example, Steven Bannon, his appointed White House Chief Strategist and former Executive Chair of Breitbart News). But it does not seem to license us to hold him responsible for the Charlottesville rallies, any more so than the dyadic paradigm. The limit of Trump’s responsibility is demarcated by the limits of the coordinated groups to which he belongs on group agency theory. Even if Trump’s choices incite full-fledged group agents (like white supremacist organizations) to express and enact overt racism, he is not an inclusive member of those groups, so he cannot be held responsible for their actions in corporate-responsibilty terms. This is not to say that holding him responsible would not have a ‘responsibilizing’ effect on him as an individual, but this is outside of the scope of List and Pettit’s model, which confines the responsibilizing function of corporate responsibility attributions to group agents.

It might be worth looking at responsibility from a political perspective, taking as a starting point the role of the individual as political agent embedded in structures of oppression.

The resistance view


Epistemic responsibility plays an important role in theories of epistemic justice, which take social injustice as the starting point for theorizing about the production of knowledge. Social epistemologists also write about moral responsibility, typically as a metric different from, but connected with, epistemic responsibility. Moral reasons-responsiveness requires, but outstrips, sensitivity to epistemic factors (i.e., epidemic responsibility). In particular, epistemic responsibility requires sensitivity to a person’s epistemic qualities, and awareness of stereotypes that interfere with this sensitivity, while moral responsibility requires sensitivity to a person’s moral qualities (goodness, badness), and awareness of factors that confound moral sensitivity. But these capacities are interrelated. If we distrust someone of the basis of her demographic attributes, we are likely to perceive the person as less innocent, and to respond irrationally to her moral testimony. This undermines Strawson’s ideal of a moral community in which moral agents treat each other as rational peers, as well as the possibility of relational equality.

More straightforwardly, if we are insensitive to a person’s epistemic status due to implicit racial bias, we are, by the same token, racist, and racism is a moral failing, not just an epistemic failing. Deficits in epistemic responsibility are therefore deficits in moral responsibility. Deficits in both capacities undermine the possibility of substantive equality.

Theorists like Jose Medina (2015) are aware of these links between political, epistemic, and moral responsibility, and treat these aspects of agency as deeply interrelated and interdependent. On Medina’s view, political, epistemic, and moral agency are all implicated in the capacity for ‘democratic sensibility,’ which makes a functioning substantive (not merely procedural) democracy possible. The telos of this triad of capacities – or at least a central telos – is a shared democratize sensibility –  a suite of traits that enables people to achieve relational equality, in Elizabeth Anderson’s sense (2016). Relational equality is not just procedural democracy, but an ideal of democracy characterized by equality of standing, esteem, and authority. The triad of agential capacities overlap and intersect in democratic agents, creating the human potential for relational equality.

Epistemic and moral responsibility are capacities that enable agents to respond to epistemic and moral reasons, respectively, in a way that enhances democratic participation and relational equality. These sensitivities enable us to cooperatively pursue democratic ends.

Of course, moral responsibility serves more than these democratic ends, but democratic ends are central. It is hard to know how to act morally responsibly outside of a sphere of democratic relations in which citizens respect each other’s agency. Moreover, it is impossible to hold one another responsible in a fair and rational manner outside of relations of substantive equality. So relational equality and moral responsibility are interdependent. They interact in a positive feedback loop in which each value enhances the other.

On Medina’s view, fostering a shared democratic sensibility requires that we give people the credit they deserve – that is, that we respond sensitively to their epistemic characteristics, practising epistemic responsibility. Only this will allow us to participate in the communicative engagements that underwrite substantive democracy. But if moral responsibility is also required for substantive democracy, then we must also respond sensitively to people’s moral characteristics, cultivating moral responsibility. Medina does not address this capacity at length, but it’s not hard to see why moral responsibility is required for relational equality. In the U.S. (and elsewhere), Black children are seen as older and guiltier than white children. Personifying this bias, the President recently dismissed his son’s (possibly treasonous) meeting with Russian officials by referring to Trump Jr. as a “good kid” and a “good boy,” exemplifying the discrepancy between society’s treatment of white versus Black children. This discrepancy continues into adulthood, with African Americans being incarcerated at nearly five times the rate of white people, and at least ten times the rate in five states. These are just two examples; one could fill encyclopedias with statistics about racism in America. These examples show that our shared practice of holding one another responsible is undermined by racial injustice, which similarly undermines the potential for relations of equal standing, esteem, and authority. That is, racial bias corrupts our responsibility system and our democracy.

In this climate, no one is as morally responsible, or as democratically fit, as they should be.

Medina’s response to this problem is an “epistemology of resistance,” which aims to foster a shared democratic sensibility by focusing on dissensus rather than consensus. Historically, the principles of a just society were thought to derive from a rational process that fosters consensus –  a process epitomized in Rawls’ ‘original position.’ Medina rejects the consensus approach on grounds that it is homogenous, non-interactive, and static. This model fails to take into account the changing realities of real people, and fails to make use of the diversity of epistemic positions available in the polis, instead forcing diverse perspectives into a homogenizing formula – a kind of ‘binding arbitration’ that favours the majority and marginalizes dissenting voices. Medina prefers a ‘resistance model’ that seeks out conflict and prioritizes marginalized perspectives, treating them as untapped sources of epistemic insight. Within this model, we do not treat all knowledge claims as equal – we give more space and attention to marginalized testimony.

In developing this approach, Medina shifts the focus of epistemic theorizing from Descartes’ atomistic model (‘armchair philosophy’), to the sphere of real-life interactions, in which knowledge is the result of concrete interpersonal interactions which can be knowledge-preserving or knowledge-undermining depending on whether epidemic currency is fairly distributed. Strawson similarly situates responsibility attributions in a shared social environment – a ‘moral community’ – but he says nothing about inequalities within this sphere. What would it mean to theorize moral responsibility against a backdrop of social injusitce? What would a ‘moral responsibility of resistance’ look like?

I’m going to try to imagine that theory here.

To begin, it would take social injustice as a focal point, and would concentrate on the unequal distribution of moral currency in our society – a distribution that gives white people presumptive higher moral standing, esteem, and authority than people of color, thwarting the prospect of relational equality. Moral responsibility would be conceived, at least in part, as a sensitivity to people’s moral qualities, as well as the systemic factors that undermine our sensitivity to these qualities, such as racial injustice, sexism, homophobia, etc. Within this system, blame and praise would function to resist oppression and restore substantive equality. That is, the reactive attitudes would serve to alert people to their unchecked white privilege, insensitivity to racial injustice, and role in systems and processes that oppress disenfranchised groups. These attitudes would target those who incite racism and embolden racists to act unjustly and oppressively on their behalf.


This contextualized, historicized, and politicized notion of moral responsibility is particularly adept at holding political actors responsible for the indirect and mediating effects of their choices and actions. It allows us to blame unfit leaders for their role in tainting the public discourse with their toxic beliefs, attitudes, and values, and does not require us to diagnose their cognitive states in precise terms or undertake complex sociological prognoses. It redirects our attention from the individual’s embodied self to the person’s relation to to the group and role in fostering or poisoning relational equality and substantive democracy. It enjoins us to hold people responsible for advancing or undermining these democratic, moral, and epistemic ideals. Notably, his model of responsibility cuts across the competing model of responsibility, inasmuch as it doesn’t confine responsibility attributions to control or character or the limits of a corporate organization, though it may take these dimensions into account when formulation a specific expression of praise or blame (e.g., we might blame someone for not exercising due control). But resistance-based responsibility has a fundamentally ‘responsibilizing’ function, though it does not necessarily address the target agent directly; it can function to correct flaws in the public discourse or ‘social imaginary’ to promote relational equality.

On this view, it makes sense to hold Trump responsible for the events in Chalottesville, insofar as doing so plays a valuable remediating role in our social imaginary – specifically, it enhances relations of substantive equality, improving our prospects of becoming morally responsible as a group, and promoting substantive democracy.

Medina’s work is instructive in other ways. For one, he talks about the role of the social imaginary, or shared set of interpretive resources, in promoting or undermining shared knowledge. A flawed social imaginary, in which racism is promulgated and naturalized, undermines epistemic responsibility and the accumulation of knowledge. But what is the effect of a flawed social imaginary on moral responsibility? In brief, this state of affairs prevents us from exercising our capacity for moral responsibility in a responsible or adaptive way, i.e., a way that is sensitive to people’s moral and epistemic qualities. It prompts us to respond unfairly to people on the basis of their demographic attributes instead of their character. To foster moral responsibility, we need to correct imbalances in the responsibility system, meaning we need to combat systemic discrimination. This includes blame and praise people for their role in fostering or frustrating relations of equality.

Another interesting feature of Medina’s account is the notion of ‘chains of actors,’ which are not quite group agents, but are nonetheless ontologically and morally substantive entities (on my reading). Chains of actors are a precursor to group agents; they are often incipient or embryonic group agents, which are not yet cohesive and self-aware social collectives, but are on the path to coordinated activity. The civil rights movement, in the earliest stages, is a salient example. Chains of actors don’t satisfy the requirements of group agency, as they are not coordinate, interdependent, or aware of belonging to a coordinated group, but they are a critical developmental stage in the formation of a group agent. They are the process through which individuals mobilize into politically efficacious groups.

Notably, people can belong to chains of actors without having any substantive relationship or direct contact with one another. They only need epistemic and moral affinities. That is, to belong to a chain of actors, one only needs to share values and attitudes with a critical mass of others. These attitudes can be implicit or explicit, so long as they are expressed in overt behaviour. Hence, people who express racist values but deny being racist can still belong to a chain of actors. Because the inclusion criteria of chains is lower than that for group agents, it is easier to label ordinary citizens as members of chains. In fact, chains are a pervasive part of modern democracies, since they encompass the myriad subcultures and informal social groups in which we are immersed.

 Returning to the Charlottesville rally: while active participants in the rally may have qualified as group agents, a broader range of sympathetic actors who did not participate in the rally, but condoned it in spirit or shared sympathies with the participants, could be qualified as belonging to a chain of actors, including but not limited to the active participants. The limits of chains of actors are necessarily blurry, since it is hard to identify members of uncoordinated and dispersed collectives who may not even identify themselves as part of the chain – indeed, they may sincerely deny that there is any such chain, since many members of rape culture do (because they do not admit that rape is a pervasive problem).  However, enlightened third parties can sometimes identify members of chains on the basis of their isomorphic actions, which may expresses certain sympathies or affinities shared in common. As with group agents, members of chains bear responsibility not only for their own embodied actions, but also for the actions of the chain, since they are voluntary participants and constitutive elements of the collective. Their sympathy with the chain enables the chain to exist, thrive, and have an effect.

On this view, Trumps’ response to the rally, and general attitude toward racial injustice, situate him in a chain of actors that includes the rally participants. This makes Trump partly responsible for the rally even though he did not participate or explicitly endorse it.

Indirect blame and praise

On the view that I have proposed, reactive attitudes do not need to be addressed to the named agent, unlike the paradigmatic dyadic model. But why should I take this to be the case?

One reason is that social agents are capable of responding to mediated blame in diffuse contexts just as well as to direct blame in dyadic contexts. Thus, there is no principled reason to confine blame to the face-to-face paradigm. If I blame someone through an intermediary, I manage to express my reactive attitude to the person, albeit indirectly. In the digital age, mediated blaming responses are more ubiquitous than ever. In fact, social media arguably makes mediated blame the norm, i.e., the paradigm case. When we blame someone in person, we typically also blame the person in our social media interactions – by unfriending, restricting, blocking, or otherwise modifying the virtual relationship. Sometimes the first and definitive blaming response is virtual, as in the practice of ‘ghosting.’ In political contexts, virtual blame is the only option for ordinary citizens, since we never directly encounter most politicians, particularly at the federal level. Likewise for celebrities and public figures. But these people have the largest sphere of influence and the largest impact on the social imaginary. When Jennifer McCarthy promoted the idea that vaccines cause autism, many people decided not to vaccinate their children, and the rate of infectious diseases increased. Notably, Trump has also spread anti-vaccine rhetoric. This campaign hurts children and vulnerable groups the most. If blame is to serve the function of promoting relations of equality and respect, thereby enhancing collective responsibility, we ought to blame public figures for damaging statements by any means possible. In many cases, the only means is social media.

When we blame people in virtual reality, even if we do not expect our message to reach the intended target, we might reasonably expect our message to contribute to a chain of opposition, constituted by a multitude of sympathetic commentators or political activists. Even if the ordinary citizen’s individual voice is never heard, the formation of a collective with critical mass and visibility will most likely attract the attention of the media, who will echo the conversation in public platforms such as newspapers and television. In the modern age, blame is often a collective phenomenon, vocalized by chains of actors, and delivered via social media, the press, and sympathetic public figures.

Another reason to think that blame and praise do not need to be direct and unmediated is research on the psychological effects of the reactive attitudes. For example, there is evidence that praise positively affects not only the target, but also bystanders. Researchers reported that when teachers praised the top performers on a mid-term exam in front of the class, those who fell just short of the top scores improved on the next exam, compared to students who had not witnessed any public praising (2017). One of the researchers explains the results by conjecturing that “student performance is influenced not only by personal benefits, such as grades or passing an exam, but also by the existing performance norms,” which are expressed in the teacher’s praising attitude. The lesson is that praise motivates both the object of praise and bystanders who are in close reach of achieving the commended norm. Similarly, praising and blaming people in virtual space could motivate witnesses to approximate to the norm endorsed in the statement.

List and Pettit’s theory of corporate responsibility points to the potential responsibilizing function of collective responsibility attributions, which hold all member responsible even if they did not contributed equally, or at all, the the conglomerate’s operative decision. The rationale is that holding members responsible for the group incites them to take an active interest in the company’s ethical protocols, preventing a descent into corruption, akin to what happened in banks and Government Sponsored Enterprises during the subprime mortgage crash of 2007-2010. Holding people collectively responsible is supposed to prevent the diffusion of responsibility that afflicts many collectives, leading to internal corruption and moral anomie. The same thing can happen to governments if no one takes responsibility for the government’s collective decisions, or intercedes to prevent corrupt members from eroding democratic norms. At the moment, G.O.P. insiders like Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell can be held responsible for enabling Trump’s anti-democratic behaviour – the Muslim ban, the racist proclamations, etc.

These considerations suggest that blame and praise do not need to be addressed directly to the object of the attitude to be psychologically efficacious – they have indirect and diffuse effects, motivating bystanders, witnesses, and group members to conform to endorsed norms.

Public shaming: collective blame gone wrong

The opposite of silence in the face of injustice is unjust or disproportionate public blaming, which can include ‘virtue signalling’ and ‘public shaming.’ ‘Virtue signalling’ refers to superficial or self-serving public expressions of blame, and ‘public shaming’ refers to collective acts of blame that are unfair, false, or disproportionate to the offence.

While judicious public blaming, which recruits chains of actors to disseminate the message and positively shape public discourse, serves to promote relational equality and shared moral responsibility, unfair and disproportionate public blaming does exactly the opposite – it promotes and retrenches injustice, and can seriously harm the target agent. While there are significant differences between blame and shame in psychological terms, the phrase ‘public shaming’ in popular discourse is used to denote a collective action or campaign aimed at holding someone responsible for a putative normative violation. This is what I mean by mediated or collective blaming, so, on my view, public shaming is a species of collective blaming.


In the digital age, blame can have serious negative consequences, both on individuals and on social institutions and practices. In ‘So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed’ (2015), Jon Ronson draws attention to the perils of public shaming campaigns, which can target innocent people or severely punish people for relatively benign transgressions. He traces the history of public shaming through the Middle Ages, when it was common for convicted criminals and ‘undesirables’ to be pilloried or hanged in the town square, to the digital age, when online shaming campaigns can result in people losing their jobs, reputations, and social standing. Ronson focuses on errant shaming campaigns, like the online shaming of a U.S. care worker who jokingly took a picture of herself yelling in front of a ‘silence and respect’ sign in a cemetery. The shaming response was, in Jonson’s view, greatly out of proportion. Although Jonson doesn’t develop a philosophical position, his point seems to be that social media enables a magnitude of resentment that is out of proportion to the offence, and this is unjust to the targeted individual, and can also distort our shared norms. If we outcast someone for a practical joke, we’ve seemingly lost the ability to discriminate between benign violations and core moral ones like assault.

Although Jonson is critical of public shaming in the book, he can’t possible mean that we should never publicly shame people. In fact, when questioned about the Twitter campaign devoted to outting people who participated in the white supremacy rally (@YesYourRacist), he approved of the campaign, saying, “They were undisguised in a massively contentious rally surrounded by the media..[there is] “a big difference between making a thoughtless or offensive comment online and marching in the name of white power.” Publicly shaming public figures and very heinous people (like Nazis) is, in his view, morally permissible. Evidently, he does not want to eliminate public shaming, but to caution people to exercise epistemic and moral sensitivity (in effect) in deciding whether to shame someone.

This view balances the need to hold public figures accountable, with the mandate that we not ruin ordinary people’s lives for relatively benign normative violations.

Of course, it can be difficult to anticipate whether a post on social media will gain support, so the safe bet might be to confine public censure to public figures, while holding private citizens responsible in the traditional way, i.e., in face-to-face interactions. This would ensure that the magnitude of the response fits the severity of the offence, in general. Face-to-face blame modifies the interpersonal relationship without triggering institutional consequences – consequences like firing, expelling, and outcasting. These responses are typically more fitting for highly influential public figures than private citizens, whose impact on social and institutional norms is fairly limited.

That said, there can be exceptions for private citizens who commit very serious offences, particularly offences that reinforce social inequality, and exceptions for offenders who escape fair sentencing due to inequalities in the justice system. In  such cases, public blame serves as a substitute for criminal sanctions, and compels legislators to amend the law.


*I’m using mostly masculine pronouns because this analysis is about Trump, a man.

Hate as a type of prejudice: Luke Roelofs.

Hi. I’m going to take this opportunity to promote Luke Roelofs’ philosophy blog:


His latest post analyzes ‘hate’ as a discriminatory attitude. He describes hate – specifically, the type involved in misogyny, homophobia, racism, and so on – as a holistic pattern of de-valuation that targets a group of people.

He says that hate on this description can encompass both hate as a feature of individual psychology and hate as a set of institutions and practices that function to devalue historically disenfranchised groups (or something to this effect). He also says that this description is compatible with seeing hate as both a psychological state and a matter of consequences. Finally, this definition explains why ‘reverse racism’ isn’t real: because racism as a feature of individual psychology can only exist against a background of systemic racism.

This is a compelling proposal, though not immune from criticism. One might argue that there can be real instances of inconsequential hate – for example, someone making a racist remark that no one hears. Still, racism can simply be re-defined by reference to an action’s tendency to cause harmful consequences to the targeted group under certain conditions. One might also argue that a person who doesn’t embody the psychological features of hate can still commit a hateful act, defined as such by its consequences. Relatedly, one might argue that the psychological definition of hate is redundant, since once you’ve defined hate as a feature of institutions, any action that contributes to discriminatory institutional arrangements is hateful as such, regardless of the agent’s psychological profile.

That said, I think that the psychological-systemic definition is useful because it illustrates how systems of relations are embodied in intentional agents, the metaphysical bedrock of those institutions. This dual description also covers cases of white ignorance and indifference, in which an agent’s moral character is defined by what it lacks – suitable responsiveness to morally salient contours of the environment. If we see moral psychology as a set of patterned responses (both conscious and unconscious) to morally-salient conditions, then hateful people lack patterned sensitivity to conditions of inequality and injustice.  Hate, in other words, is a disposition to respond insensitively to morally significant social cues – a flaw in the structure of the agent’s moral psychology. And this attitude contributes to, and partly constitutes, a broader system of social relations. As such, a person can be hateful (racist, misogynist, etc.) without knowing it, and can be hateful without causing harm – e.g., if he is stranded on a desert island, though the agent’s hateful disposition would be harmful under ordinary (i.e. unjust) social conditions.

This, at least, fits with some influential accounts of moral responsibility and its lack (e.g., Fischer 2012, Sher 2010), of ignorance and insensitivity (Mills 2007, Medina 2012, Fricker 2007), and of implicit bias (e.g., Levy 2016).

On this view, ‘reverse racism’ is a myth because one cannot be insensitive to systemic discrimination against white people, since this kind of discrimination doesn’t exist – ‘reverse racism,’ that is, only makes sense on a grossly distorted social ontology. However, one can be reasonably wary of white ignorance and patterned indifference to the plight of Black people, which is a rational attitude, not an instance of discrimination. This is why racism and ‘reverse racism’ are not equivalent – indeed, reverse racism is impossible.