We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure coreplatform@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
We live in a world laced with forms of political violence. Kristen Renwick Monroe's latest work develops an interesting social psychological account of the conduct of victims, perpetrators, and bystanders of the most extreme form of violence—genocide. It also employs an interesting narrative approach that contributes to broad methodological discussions in political science about the ways in which subjective experience can best be understood. We have thus invited a diverse group of political scientists and historians to comment on the book's analysis of political violence and on its broader approach to the study of politics.—Jeffrey C. Isaac, Editor
The medical intervention is scheduled. The doctor visits the patient and explains again the procedure. She draws a picture of what she is going to do. She mentions the risks entailed in the procedure. She asks, “Have I answered all of your questions?” The patient nods. The doctor hands the patient a form to sign. “Could you sign this form, then? It indicates that we have discussed the procedure and you have consented to it.”
This ritual of consent is performed thousands of times every day in hospitals, doctor's offices, and other medical settings. Yet what does this ritual really mean? As Ruth Faden and Tom Beauchamp (1986) argue, there are two elements to the traditional way to view consent. It is both an exercise of the patient's autonomy and an institutional arrangement whereby the medical actors can demonstrate that they had authority to act (Cates 2001). These two elements are separated into an ethical concern, focused on the individual patient, and a legal concern, focused on the institution. But suppose, as a naturalized ethics might suggest we should, we try to put these two pieces together? For the most part, discussions of consent focus more on the concern for patient autonomy than on the ways in which they authorize actions. While consent has made health care providers more sensitive to the dangers of paternalism, if we focus on both aspects of consent, we will see something else.
The Place of Families: Fostering Capacity, Equality, and
Responsibility. By Linda C. McClain. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2006. 392p. $45.00.
Linda McClain's excellent book provides a comprehensive account
of the political issues concerning families in United States public policy
and a coherent perspective from which to evaluate proposals for change in
these policies. Writing as a liberal feminist, McClain has an approach
that will not please everyone, but since her starting point takes families
seriously as political units, no serious discussant in these debates can
ignore this book.
One important legacy of republicanism is the ideal of good citizenship; a related legacy of republicanism is the equation of citizenship and masculinity. These legacies are at once strange and familiar: today, masculinity and citizenship are often conceptualized as discrete and distinctive identities, and some critics, most notably feminists, suggest that in modern democracies good citizenship and masculinity may even be contradictory ideals. The source of these conceptual paradoxes is the transformation of gender and civic discourse in the early modern period, particularly the “long eighteenth century.” Understanding the implications of these changes helps us better grasp both the relationship of gender and citizenship today, and how a more effectively engaged and meaningfully egalitarian form of democratic citizenship, for men and women, might be realized.
Are social movements responsible for their unfinished agendas? Feminist successes in opening the professions to women paved the way for the emergence of the upper middle-class two-career household. These households sometimes hire domestic servants to accomplish their child care work. If, as I shall argue, this practice is unjust and furthers social inequality, then it poses a moral problem for any feminist commitment to social justice.
Jamie Mayerfeld has written a wise and morally sensitive book that he hopes will compel readers to take seriously their “prima facie duty to relieve suffering” (p. 9). Insofar as “attention to suffering has been a casualty of a long series of attacks on hedonistic utilitarianism” (p. 3), Mayerfeld offers a thorough account of the nature of suffering and argues for the view that its badness imposes a universal prima facie duty for people to try to avoid suffering. Since the purpose of moral inquiry is “to identify wrong kinds of behavior so that we can avoid them” (p. 7), Mayerfeld, not himself a utilitarian, follows a catholic approach and skillfully draws upon arguments from utilitarians, deontologists, Aristotelians, hedonists, psychologists, and philosophers to support his moral intuitions.
The best framework for moral and political thought is the one that creates the best climate for good political judgments. I argue that universalistic theories of justice fall short in this regard because they cannot distinguish idealization from abstraction. After describing how an ethic of care guides judgments, I suggest the practical effects that make this approach preferable. The ethic of care includes more aspects of human life in making political judgments.