Abstract
Violence, even if sometimes justified, always stands in need of a justification. That is to say, violence is a normative concept. And given the normativity of the concept, accounts of what is and is not an instance of violence may seem to be more or less subjective. As a response, we may be inclined to accept a relativisation of the concept to various cultures, or else to privilege the standpoint of the victim over that of the perpetrator. But while this may allow us to resist relativisation, it looks less like a way into an objective description than a straightforward value commitment.
As an alternative to either option, Vittorio Bufacchi attempts to set out an ‘objective’ account, dividing his text between ‘a neutral, amoral definition and analysis of the concept of violence’ and subsequent chapters that involve ‘moral scrutiny', primarily by virtue of relating violence to justice (p. 6). This approach may raise some eyebrows given that it presupposes a rigid fact/value dichotomy or at least a comparatively strict fact/value distinction. First comes the analysis, and only then are value commitments allowed to intrude. As a result, there is something ‘old school’ about Bufacchi's text (a feature of the text that he shows some awareness of).
The account of violence that he finally arrives at is inclusive. It allows that violence need not be intentional and that it can take the form of omissions as well as acts. But while Bufacchi may be right, and a good case may be made for the latter claim, such a case is not made here. Bufacchi does surprisingly little to justify the claim. Instead, he provides a treatment of the moral difference between acts and omissions of any sort. As this occurs in an early and pivotal chapter, it might also be taken as an indication that Bufacchi's two-stage approach is (generously) not as strict as he suggests or (less generously) that it breaks down at an early point in the text.
However, Bufacchi's structural division between analysis and moral scrutiny is not accidental. It helps to motivate, and provides a rhetorical back-up for, his claim that to escape from the taint of subjectivity about violence we should privilege the standpoint of the disengaged, ideal spectator. Such an (admittedly fictional) viewer will be best placed to make judgements about violence. This claim is substantive and philosophically interesting but open to familiar criticisms of the ideal spectator's standpoint.