Many philosophers hold that if an agent acts intentionally, she must know what she is doing. Although the scholarly consensus for many years was to reject the thesis in light of presumed counterexamples by Donald Davidson, several scholars have recently argued that attention to aspectual distinctions and the practical nature of this knowledge shows that these counterexamples fail. In this paper I defend a new objection against the thesis, one modelled after Timothy Williamson’s anti-luminosity argument. Since this argument relies on general principles about the nature of knowledge rather than on intuitions about fringe cases, the recent responses that have been given to defuse the force of Davidson’s objection are silent against it. Moreover, the argument suggests that even weaker theses connecting practical entities (e.g. basic actions, intentions, attempts, etc.) with knowledge are also false. Recent defenders of the thesis that there is a necessary connection between knowledge and intentional action are motivated by the insight that this connection is non-accidental. I close with a positive proposal to account for the non-accidentality of this link without appeal to necessary connections by drawing an extended analogy between practical and perceptual knowledge.

Much of our know‐how is acquired through practice: we learn how to cook by cooking, how to write by writing, and how to dance by dancing. As Aristotle argues, however, this kind of learning is puzzling, since engaging in it seems to require possession of the very knowledge one seeks to obtain. After showing how a version of the puzzle arises from a set of attractive principles, I argue that the best solution is to hold that knowledge‐how comes in degrees, and through practice a person gradually learns how to do something. However, the two standard accounts of know‐how in the literature, intellectualism and anti‐intellectualism, cannot properly account for the distinctive way in which know‐how is gradually acquired by practice, a process in which conceptual representations and practical abilities are intimately interwoven. Drawing on Gareth Evans's work, I outline an account that may do so, and use this account to distinguish between two forms of learning to explain why skill generally cannot be learnt through testimony, and requires practice.

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Sometimes we feel like doing things we might not do. An irresolute exerciser, I frequently feel like laying on the couch instead of jogging; angered by bad referee calls, I sometimes feel like yelling at the TV; and a committed teacher, I often feel like writing extensive comments on students' paper. States of this sort, that motivate you "while leaving you free to act on or not," are what Shapiro calls "inclinations" (p. 10). The class thus includes a multitude of states, such as primal and complex emotions, feelings, desires for general or particular things, and even our core commitments. Despite otherwise important differences between these states, the aim of Shapiro's book is to offer a unified account of inclinations and their implications for rational agency.The book constitutes the culmination of a series of pioneering writings questioning a long-standing tendency to ignore inclinations. The reasons for neglect are complex. Partly, I suspect, it had to do with (early) Davidson's still influential idea that all desires (or "pro-atittudes") play the same role in the explanation of action; partly, Bratman's classic work drawing out the importance and distinctiveness of intentions led to an unfortunate neglect of other desiderative states. By contrast, Schapiro persuasively shows that our understanding of agency will be incomplete without an account of inclination.Schapiro addresses the topic through what she dubs the "Kantian method." 1 Instead of seeking a causal or mechanistic explanation of some phenomenon, the aim of the Kantian method is to render an activity intelligible from the standpoint of a "participant to the form of activity in which the participant is engaged" (p. 21). For example, instead of looking for causal antecedents that may explain what distinguishes an action from other events, the Kantian method focuses on understanding the concepts that the agent must employ if she is to act at all. Schapiro's central examples are the concepts of means and ends. To act at all, the agent must grasp (at least implicitly) these concepts, making it possible to engage in an a priori inquiry about them that exploits this understanding. Since she takes inclinations to be equally essential to agency, Schapiro's discussion centers on questions that an agent can address just by reflecting on her own agency, and she eschews attempts to approach the question via scientific methods.Despite my sympathy for the main parts of this methodology, I have two quibbles. First, unlike Schapiro, I think of the scientific and the "Kantian" methods as complimentary rather than rivals, exerting mutual pressure on each other; presumed conceptual truths can be enriched, corrected, and refined through empirical insights. All the more so for a topic like inclinations, since it is not fully a rational phenomenon. 2 Second, Schapiro distances herself from Anscombe, whom she criticizes for inquiring into agency from "our standpoint as knowers" rather than agents (pp. 23-4n20). However, this criticism presupposes a dichotomy between th...

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