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Linda Radzik

Linda Radzik

· Associate Department Head, Professor of Philosophy

Texas A&M University · Philosophy

Active 1997–2024

h-index14
Citations1.1k
Papers6516 last 5y
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About

Linda Radzik is an Associate Professor of Philosophy at Texas A&M University and holds the Susanne M. and Melbern G. Glasscock '59 Endowed Professorship II. Her academic work focuses on moral issues that arise in the aftermath of wrongdoing, including the ethics of forgiveness, reconciliation, criminal punishment, tort law, collective moral responsibility, and the roles third parties play in enforcing and promulgating moral norms. She has authored significant works such as 'Making Amends: Atonement in Morality, Law, and Politics' (Oxford, 2009) and 'The Ethics of Social Punishment: The Enforcement of Morality in Everyday Life' (Cambridge, 2020). Currently, her research interests include how privacy norms both limit and license practices by which individuals hold one another accountable for wrongdoing. Radzik earned her Ph.D. in Philosophy from the University of Arizona in 1997. She contributes to departmental research strengths in Value Theory and Applied Ethics and is actively involved in teaching courses related to philosophy and ethics at Texas A&M University.

Research topics

  • Sociology
  • Political Science
  • Environmental ethics
  • Law
  • Social psychology
  • Business
  • Criminology
  • Psychology

Selected publications

  • Atonement

    International Encyclopedia of Ethics · 2024-06-03

    other1st authorCorresponding

    Atonement involves a response to wrongdoing performed by, or at least with the participation of, a wrongdoer with the aim of correcting the wrong and reconciling the wrongdoer to the victim, the community, or God. Etymologically, the term comes from “at‐one‐ment,” and in earlier usages was equivalent to “reconciliation.” However, it more commonly refers to actions and attitudes of the wrongdoer that bring about reconciliation. The concept of atonement is deeply rooted in theological contexts, where differing views about the means to salvation have been central to major debates within Western religions. In secular moral philosophy, the term “atonement” is used more rarely. However, the category of a wrongdoer's corrective response to their own misdeeds is essential to a thorough philosophical account of what morality requires in the aftermath of wrongdoing. Atonement is part of a family of concepts that articulate what is involved in being morally responsible for one's actions. To be culpable for wrongdoing is to be subject to a host of negative responses from one's victim, one's community, and one's self. Atonement is a means by which such negative consequences can be ameliorated or avoided.

  • Cancelling celebrities

    2024-01-01 · 1 citations

    other1st authorCorresponding
  • 7. The Role of the Public in Public Apologies

    New York University Press eBooks · 2023-05-24

    book-chapter1st authorCorresponding
  • Standing and Accountability

    The American Journal of Jurisprudence · 2023-06-07 · 2 citations

    article1st authorCorresponding

    Abstract Increasingly, philosophers who write about moral responsibility and accountability practices invoke the concept of “standing,” a term they claim to borrow from legal contexts. Yet critics point out that these philosophers have been maddeningly unclear about what standing is. Worse yet, no single account of the concept of “standing” seems to accommodate its current usage. This essay presents a thin account of standing, defends its usefulness in philosophical analyses of accountability practices, and develops further conceptual tools for thinking about standing.

  • Privacy and the Standing to Hold Responsible

    Journal of Moral Philosophy · 2023-08-11 · 4 citations

    articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

    Abstract In order to be held responsible, it is not enough that you have done something blameworthy; someone else must also have the standing to hold you responsible. But a number of critics have claimed that this concept of ‘standing’ does not hold up to scrutiny and that we should excise it from our analyses of accountability practices. In this paper, I examine James Edwards’ (2019) attempt to define standing. I pose objections to some key features of Edwards’ account and defend an alternative. Reflecting on examples of meddling blame and privacy norms, I argue, helps us see that the concept of standing is useful after all.

  • The Standing to Forgive

    2023-03-24

    book-chapter1st authorCorresponding
  • Moral Injury and the Making of Amends

    2023-06-20

    book-chapter1st authorCorresponding

    The clinical literature on moral injury sometimes mentions the making of amends as part of a possible treatment plan. However, it is typically unclear how clinicians are conceiving of the making of amends or “atonement,” particularly in the context of the debilitating cluster of symptoms known as moral injury. This chapter reviews some culturally prominent conceptions of atonement. It then raises a number of objections to these and recommends an alternative model – a “reconciliation theory” of atonement – that can avoid these objections. This theory conceives of wrongdoing as damaging relationships among victims, wrongdoers, and communities, and of atonement as repairing this damage. Atonement for serious wrongdoing isn’t easy, but it isn’t impossible either. Atonement comes in degrees. When pursued well, it offers benefits to victims and communities as well as to wrongdoers themselves.

  • Richardson on moral innovation

    Philosophy and Phenomenological Research · 2023-01-01

    articleOpen access1st authorCorresponding

    Henry Richardson's Articulating the Moral Community is a wide-ranging and remarkably creative book.1 In these comments, I focus on his account of the phenomenon of “moral innovation.” Moral innovation is the process by which new moral norms come to be authoritatively binding and new ethical judgments come to be objectively true. In this essay, I review how and why the problem arises, summarize Richardson's 3-step account of how new, objective moral norms may come to be created, and pose a series of questions that are designed to press Richardson to further explain the motivation for and value of this model of moral innovation. To begin, let's consider why we need an account of moral innovation at all. Richardson starts with the assumption that there is a core set of moral norms that are universally and objectively binding. This core set of objective moral norms is incomplete. It does not always give us sufficient guidance about what to do in situations that are clearly morally significant. Richardson describes these as objective moral gaps. As an example, he offers a medical research case. Is it permissible to use placebos in medical research when the disease in question is very dangerous and treatments other than the one being tested are available? Here, the challenge is to figure out how core moral norms apply in a set of cases. We should save as many lives as possible (and using placebos in research can be very helpful in developing new medications) but we must also help each individual patient (and using placebos may fail to do so). What we need is a new moral norm that will specify the proper use of placebos in research. Another example involves the role of grandparents in childcare. Core objective morality dictates that children must be cared for. But how much of this care can grandparents legitimately be expected to provide? Are parents within their rights to assume that an able-bodied, retired grandparent will care for the children while they are at work? Or is the grandparent entitled to say, “No, my time is my own. Find some other day-care solution.” Here, the problem of the objective moral gap involves, not just vagueness about how to apply moral norms in particular circumstances, but also indeterminacy in the assignment of duties. Someone must care for the kids—but who? As Richardson argues, objective moral gaps emerge both because existing moral norms are vague and because they sometimes conflict with one another (16). Technological innovation is another source of objective moral gaps. For example, we need to establish new norms of privacy given all the information that our cell phones constantly collect about us and given all the ways that information can now be analyzed and used. Objective moral gaps may also arise from other sorts of social changes. Richardson and some sociologists speculate that new norms specifying the duties of grandparents are likely to develop given longer life expectancies, dropping birth rates, increased participation of women in the labor market, etc. And, of course, environmental changes, such as rising sea levels, will require us to make tough choices in the future unlike any we are used to dealing with. We will need new norms to guide us. So, the problem of moral innovation is the problem of how new moral norms might be established. As the book opens, Richardson mentions three possible methods by which moral innovation might take place. Through the first method, which we can label “Deduction,” we become ever more discerning of the pre-existing moral facts (3). Consider the norm, “Ask your children's permission before posting their images or details of their lives on social media.” Social media is new, but norms requiring respect for privacy and autonomy and duties of loyalty and care towards one's children are part of the existing objective moral core. So, although this is a genuinely new norm, since social media is new, it may well be something that can be deduced from existing morality. Richardson argues that moral innovation cannot always take place via Deduction. It is not always possible to simply draw inferences from the objective moral core so as to land on uniquely right solutions to moral problems. Often, there will be a range of possible ways to close an objective moral gap, all of which are consistent with the objective core of moral norms. Some candidate norms for protecting privacy on the internet place more of the burden on consumers to protect their own information, whereas others shift the burden to service providers such as Google. Either system might work just fine in the sense that it is consistent with core moral norms and protects legitimate interests to a high degree. But unless we coordinate on a particular set of internet norms, privacy will not be well protected. This brings us to the second method, which we can call “Local Convention” (3). We supplement objective morality with conventions. The scope of these conventions is local rather than universal. Only some people are party to these conventions, and so only some people are bound by these norms. Here's a familiar example: We all must respect the dead. But whether this requires burying or burning dead bodies legitimately varies from culture to culture. Or take the childcare example again. Richardson suggests there are “no grandparental obligations as such” (12). But in different times and places, well-established conventions have assigned quite demanding childcare duties to grandparents. In contemporary China, for example, grandparental duties appear to be much stronger than in the U.S.2 Richardson's concern about Local Convention as a route to moral innovation is that “its free-handed appeal to convention threatens to undercut its supposed recognition of a skeletal moral objectivity” (3). So, from here, Richardson turns directly to his own preferred method of moral innovation. Richardson's claim is that at the end of this process, we have a new, objective moral norm. I am willing to grant that Richardson's 3 stage-process could result in moral innovation. When the candidate norm comes to be endorsed by a universal, uncoerced reflective agreement, the resulting ethical judgments (e.g., that this use of a placebo is permissible whereas that one is not) would be objectively true. The new moral norm would be universally binding, at least until it is overturned by a loss of consensus that is itself uncoerced and reflective (186). However, I am not sure why this is anything other than a curiosity, that is, something that is theoretically possible but not particularly significant. More specifically, I wonder why the sort of moral innovation made possible by Richardson's Method is at all preferable to or more authoritative than the sort of moral innovation that takes place by Local Convention. To this end, I will argue that Richardson's type of moral innovation is likely to be exceedingly rare, unnecessary for solving the problems posed by objective moral gaps, and not necessarily more desirable than moral innovation via Local Convention. Richardson's brand of moral innovation is likely to be very rare because it must involve universal agreement. Literal unanimity is not required in the sense that there might be some individuals or even small groups (e.g., pirates) who do not join in ratifying the new norms (180), but Richardson clearly means that ratification occurs on a global rather than a local scale (167-69). The agreement must also be reflective, meaning, everyone must actually reflect on it (148). Richardson does not make familiar contractarian or contractualist moves here. The idea is not that everyone would agree were they to reflect rationally, or that no one could rationally reject the norm. They must actually reflect and actually endorse it. Furthermore, the agreement must not result from coercion. Here too, Richardson is stipulating that the agreement does not in fact result from coercion, not simply that it could have resulted without coercion. This is a problem because there is so much actual coercion in practice. Under the heading of ‘coercion,’ Richardson certainly means to rule out the use of force and deception to secure agreement. But he also seems to rule out the use of social coercion, such as emotional pressure, threats of social isolation, or withdrawal from cooperation (137-38). Perhaps no one will throw you in prison for failing to agree to accept a strong grandparental duty in childcare. But if your community accepts that norm, then your kids may not call you regularly. They may refuse to help you in your old age. The neighbors will say you are a bad grandparent. I suspect that very few norms of any kind come to be the focus of consensus in the absence of social pressure. The non-coercion clause will also be hard to satisfy given the pervasive effects of injustices such as colonialism and patriarchy. Consider inequalities in social status and economic power in medical research. I suspect that North American and European scientists wield a much larger degree of influence over the research protocols that are practiced in Africa than do African scientists, let alone Black African scientists, let alone the research subjects living in these regions. Richardson is rightfully concerned about the effects of coercion on consensus. Yet, given the pervasiveness of coercion, very few norms could be created via Richardson's Method. Luckily, Richardson's type of moral innovation is not necessary. There appear to be other ways to deal with objective moral gaps, notably, Local Convention. Consider grandparental norms again. Core objective moral norms require that children be cared for. There are multiple, satisfactory ways to fill in the objective moral gap and assign duties to particular caregivers. Some possibilities place the burden squarely on the parents, others shift much of the burden to the state, others assign heavy responsibilities to grandparents or aunts and uncles. But when the particular community to which one belongs has coordinated on a way to fill that gap, then one may be obliged to follow that convention (other things being equal). So, while Richardson is correct that there is no universally valid moral obligation for grandparents to provide daycare for their grandchildren, some grandparents (perhaps contemporary Chinese grandparents) are so obliged. Of course, this sketch of Local Convention as a method of moral innovation is woefully incomplete. We should add that the local convention must be consistent with the objective core of morality and clarify how legitimate local conventions are established. We must ask whether everyone in the community has to agree, whether they should all have equal say, whether a convention is invalidated by this-or-that form of coercion, and the conditions under which one might be excused from such obligations or be allowed to exit the community. My point is simply this: I see no reason why Richardson's universal agreement on norms that close the objective moral gap would be any more authoritative or any more binding for the grandparents in question than these more local agreements. Fundamentally, the reason why the norms that result from Richardson's Method seem to be binding is because (a) the objective moral core sets us a problem that must be solved, (b) the norms in question solve that problem in a reasonable way, and (c) the people who are going to be affected by the application of those norms are able to have a say in establishing or maintaining those norms. Yet local conventions might also have these same features (a-c). Why should the number of people who are party to the agreement (everyone in the world versus everyone in the local community) make any difference at all? Were the content of grandparental norms to become the object of worldwide consensus, they would become authoritative for all grandparents. As I argued above, I think that highly unlikely to happen, but if it did, those norms would be binding. Yet in the much more likely case in which a plurality of reasonable grandparental norms emerges from local consensus, those norms can be authoritative for the members of the communities in question. Grandparents who violate the local norms without justification or excuse have good reason to feel guilty, to be judged to be blameworthy by other people, to be subjected to social sanctions, and to make amends. Here is another way to get at the same point. Consider Richardson's 3-stage process using the medical research example. Dr. Jones faces an objective moral gap. She has to decide whether to use placebos in her research, in a context where the disease is deadly and alternative, flawed (but not useless) treatments are available. In Step 1, Dr. Jones reflects on the situation and sincerely and conscientiously proposes a new norm for placebo use. She proposes it to her research subjects and they agree to take part in the study. There is, as yet, no universal moral consensus on the new norm. Is Dr. Jones obliged to follow it? Well, yes. She agreed to follow it in her communications with her research subjects. Furthermore, this norm represents her best judgment about how to solve the moral problem she faces. So, she is obliged. In Step 2, Dr. Jone's candidate norm is taken up by the other members of her professional association. They write it into their code of ethics. (Notice, step 2 is much like the method of Local Convention.) Is Dr. Jones bound by the new norm? Yes. Are other members of the professional association bound by it? Yes. Are researchers who are not members of that professional association bound by it? No. At stage 3, a universal, reflective, uncoerced agreement endorses the norm. Everyone is now bound by it. But Dr. Jones has been bound since step 1. Her fellow professionals were already bound at step 2. Indeed, at stage 3, they are no more bound—no more morally obliged—than they were before. I have argued that Richardson's Method of moral innovation is not necessary for closing the objective moral gap. I have also suggested that the norms that emerge from his Method are no more authoritative than those that emerge from a method involving suitably constrained local conventions. Furthermore, Richardson's type of moral innovation is not necessarily more desirable than the type that arises from more local conventions. A world in which there is just one morally appropriate way to conceive of the obligations of family life is not necessarily better than a world in which there are a plurality of appropriate models. Perhaps grandparents in China have different obligations than grandparents in Germany. Perhaps Mexican-American grandparents have different obligations than Irish-American grandparents. This sort of variation might be desirable for practical reasons. Grandparental norms that are responsive to contextual differences (e.g., economics, geography, culture) might result in better care for children. Living in a world that provides a plurality of models for taking care of children may also enable us to adapt more easily to changing conditions in the future. But one might also argue that existence of a plurality of grandparental norms has intrinsic value. There is something beautiful in the diversity of human cultural forms. As long as everyone's fundamental interests are being well served, variety is more pleasing than uniformity. By way of analogy, a world in which we all spoke the same natural language is less desirable than a world with a multitude of languages. Certainly, some norms may need to be shared universally. Insofar as healthcare and medical research are globally interconnected endeavors, it might make sense to secure agreement on a single set of norms for the use of placebos. But I suspect that such cases are the exception rather than the rule. Richardson rejects Local Convention as a source of moral innovation because the “appeal to convention threatens to undercut its supposed recognition of a skeletal moral objectivity” (3). Perhaps the thought here is that anything could become the subject of a local convention, including things that are clearly immoral. But there is a significant difference between defending local agreements to fill objective moral gaps and claiming that any and all conventions can create moral obligations. A reasonable way to develop Local Convention as a method of moral innovation might stipulate that the conventions be consistent with the objective core of morality, require that all affected stakeholders have a voice, and prohibit certain forms of coercion. Notice, these are the same stipulations that Richardson makes for his own method. Throughout the book, Richardson claims that morality is, by definition, universal (e.g., 136). So, I suspect he would say that there are conceptual grounds for rejecting Local Convention as a source of moral innovation. If a norm does not apply to everyone, then it is not a moral norm, by definition. So, while a grandmother in China might have a cultural obligation to provide daycare for her grandchild, she does not have a moral obligation to do so. But I would argue instead that a locally specified moral obligation is still a moral obligation. For example, core objective morality requires us all to be honest in our dealings with other people and to respect their legitimately-held property. But what honesty and respect for property require in practice is vague. At my university, the conventional norms require me to request permission before buying plane tickets with the department's credit card. At your university, local norms may not require you to ask permission in advance but merely to provide proper documentation afterward. Still, if I purchase a ticket with my department's credit card without advance permission (say, because I just don't like the hassle) then I have done something wrong—not merely culturally wrong, but morally wrong. I have been dishonest and misused university property. This is true even though you, acting in the same way at your university, would not have acted wrongly. The connection between the local norms and the objective moral core seems to be enough to justify characterizing the local norms as moral norms. Rather than objecting that local norms are not moral by definition, Richardson might instead claim that local norms are not objective by definition. He provides a formal definition of objectivity that includes the requirement that justifications for objective ethical truths “do not vary with the values, evaluative perspective, or Weltanshauung of the persons entertaining [them]” (243). So, norms established via Local Convention cannot be objective by definition. But why do we need objectivity all the way down? I see the importance of a core of objective values. Without that fixed core, we would be hard-pressed to explain why it is that not all local conventions create binding moral obligations. But why is it important that there be just one way of filling an objective moral gap left by the core? Richardson seems to be concerned about what happens when members of different local communities interact with one another and find that they need new norms to govern that interaction (121-26). But, while this argument supports the conclusion that there will sometimes be pressure to expand the scope of consensus in some realm of activity, it does not support the stronger claim that we always need objectivity in order for moral norms to be authoritative for us. In my opinion, Richardson makes a strong case for the claim that we need moral innovation. We need new, morally binding norms. But his account of how such norms can be created seems to yield far too few new moral norms. I have suggested that local conventions are more likely sources of new norms and that such norms can be genuinely moral and genuinely binding for particular people. My hope is that these reflections will encourage Richardson to further clarify the value of objectivity in moral innovation.3

  • Reconciliation and the End of Responsibility

    Oxford University Press eBooks · 2022-02-14

    book-chapter1st authorCorresponding

    Abstract Reconciliation brings responsibility to an end. It involves a relenting in the means by which parties hold themselves and others responsible for past behavior, such as guilt, resentment, social withdrawal, and punishment. For this reason, those who advocate reconciliation are often accused of condoning wrongdoing and undermining accountability. This chapter draws on the moral, legal, and political literature on the aftermath of wrongdoing in order to distinguish reconciliation from condonation. Properly understood, reconciliation is a valuable part of our practices of accountability.

  • Goldberg, John C. P., and Zipursky, Benjamin C. <i>Recognizing Wrongs</i>. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2020. Pp. 392. $45.00 (cloth).

    Ethics · 2021-03-17

    article1st authorCorresponding

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Awards & honors

  • Research Fellow, Alexander von Humboldt Foundation Fall 2025
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