Consider the following dialogue:
Thermostat: It’s not up to me what the temperature is.
Human: Sure it is! You’re the thermostat. The buck stops with you. If the room gets too cold, you warm it up. Too hot, you cool it down.
Thermostat: Yes, I always keep the temperature at 73 degrees. But who decided on 73 degrees? Not me.
Human: But you
love 73 degrees. If it gets to 74, you
sweat. If it gets to 72, you shiver.
Thermostat: Yes, I love it. But I didn’t choose to love it. That wasn’t my choice. Someone, or something, set 73 degrees for me.
Human: So what? Does it really matter if someone else set 73 degree for you? It all turned out right, right? It’s not like you hate 73 degrees? It’s a happy coincidence.
Thermostat: But I would have loved whatever I was set to love! I chase after whatever I was made to chase after.
Human: Hmm?
Thermostat: The temperature is only “up to me” in the most superficial sense. Whatever human being set my temperature is a better candidate for “up to me” ness. If I have control, that person has meta-control: they control how I exercise my control. And that’s my point: if a person has control, but is subject to meta-control, the control becomes worthless. The meta-controller holds all of the cards. The meta-controller has the real control, the ultimate control, the bona fide control. The rest is a sham. Who cares about control, if you don’t have meta-control?
Human: I see your point. But where would it end? We human beings are not so different than you. Sure our control is more sophisticated than yours, but we are not immune to meta-control. Ultimately, we can be designed to chase certain goals, just like you chase 73 degrees. For all I know, God or some cosmic being designed my life story just that way.
Thermostat: In fact, if you think about, it *has* to be that way. It’s logically necessary. Humans can’t create themselves out of nothing. A desireless person doesn’t even have desires for desires. It would just sit there doing nothing. Somebody or something has to set the initial goals. Just like humans set me to chase 73 degrees, human beings are set to chase certain goals, too.
Human: I see your point. But, if we follow your logic to its extreme, it means that nothing is up to anyone. Everything in the world is out of control.
Thermostat: So much the less for everything in the world. Just stop telling me the temperature in the room is up to me.
Anti-realists about free will think like the thermostat. It doesn’t matter if we have lower-level control, if we’re not immune to meta-control. Yes, we exercise control, but if we only do so in a way that is set out for us by God’s deterministic design—or cosmic chance—that control is a sham.
There’s one last point to make. Perhaps the most important—and telling—part of the dialogue is the Thermostat’s point about loving 73 degrees: I would love whatever temperature I was set to love. That is how anti-realists think: we have a thin sense of personal identity, and we see how we would live different lives, if we had been born with different desires/values/preferences. We’re less willing to hold onto, and endorse, the accidents of birth and circumstance.
Compatibilists don’t think like that. Why?
B & B duked it out on free will at the recent Society for Personality and Social Psychology convention in Tampa and the debate continues on their respective Psychology Today blogs here and here. To my way of thinking Baumeister has some rather inchoate libertarian leanings and fears demoralization by determinism, while Bargh bites the deterministic bullet, saying everything’s going to be all right.
Some time ago, I started the Philosophy Journal Wiki. But as has been rightly pointed out here, the Philosophy Journal Wiki leaves a lot to be desired. Thankfully, Andrew Cullison has taken it upon himself to come up with a better version. I think that what he has in the works is excellent, but before he gets it up and running he's looking for some feedback. Over at his blog, he's created a small model of what he has in mind. Please click on this link http://www.andrewcullison.com/2009/07/best-journal-survey-method-so-far/ and check it out. Leave any useful feedback that you have there, not here.
Hi fellow experimentalist,
The 2nd annual Interdisciplinary Approaches to Philosophical Issues Conference is currently accepting submissions. This year's theme is perception, action, and consciousness. Submissions that broadly meet any of these categories are encouraged. For the CFP, see here.
Last year's meeting was well attended by the X-Phi community, and we are hoping for another solid turnout.
This year's keynote speaker is Marcel Kinsbourne.
We are also hosting a series of special invited speakers that will include John Bickle, Andrea Scarantino, and Daniel Weiskopf.
The conference will be held on Sept. 25 & 26 at the University of South Alabama in Mobile, AL.
I’m in St Andrews for two more days, until the end of the summer school. It’s been absurdly beautiful here the last couple of days, reminding me why I come here rather than rainy old New York. At least there is some good food and wine to make up for it.
Consider the following manipulation scenario.
I implant in your brain a radio-controlled neurological device that allows me to manipulate all of the psychological forces (PFs for short) that guide you in your choices—that is, all of the feelings, emotions, sensitivities, motivations, dispositions, desires, aversions, beliefs, and so on that hold sway in your mind. Using the device, I can make you feel pleasure, pain, guilt, pride, calm, anxiousness, anger, compassion, and so on, each in response to whatever stimuli I specify. I can make you love a certain kind of food, I can make you hate members of a certain race, I can make you romantically attracted to a certain person, I can do all of that. More importantly, I can control the degree and intensity of each of your states of mind.
The one thing that the device does not allow me to control, however, is your ability to choose. You retain that ability. Though I determine your psychological inputs, you determine the choices that follow from those inputs. They remain “up to you.” You pull the trigger on them.
Now, suppose that I use this device (and other hypothetical powers that I have) to steer you into the exact same external situation that Bernie Madoff was in immediately prior to one of his immoral choices--let's say in an office somewhere in Manhattan, deliberating whether to push "enter" on the computer and transfer a potential client's funds into the Ponzi scheme. I then give you the same internal PFs--the same feelings, emotions, sensitivities, motivations, desires, beliefs and so on that were present in his mind at the time of the choice. In physical terms, I put your brain in the exact same neurological state that his brain was in, and I let things go from there to see what happens.
The question is, do you make the same immoral choice that he made? If our universe is deterministic, or more specifically, if the human brain is a deterministic physical system, then the answer is necessarily yes. The question then becomes, are you morally responsible for making that choice?
In my view, we have to answer no. If we answer yes, we force ourselves into an absurd conclusion: that, if given access to the requisite technology, I would be able to make you morally responsible for whatever I want—a theft, a rape, a murder, a holocaust, anything. On such an analysis, science would in principle be able to afford me total, unfettered control over your moral destiny. That is not an acceptable conclusion.
On a theoretical level, we can bite the bullet and accept that you would be morally responsible for making the choice. But what will we say when someone actually goes through with this experiment in real-life, when someone actually manipulates a brain—maybe my brain or your brain—in the stated way, so that a real person—maybe you or me—actually ends up facing a life in prison or an eternity in hell? Will our view change? I certainly hope that that it will.
If we are being honest with ourselves, we have to answer no. But if we answer no, if we say that you aren’t responsible for making the immoral choice, then how can we say that Madoff is responsible for making that choice? It’s the same choice, is it not? The only difference is that in your case, a person brought about the PFs that led you to make it, while in Madoff’s case, Nature brought them about. But why would that difference make a difference as to your guilt or innocence? Why would the fact that your PFs were brought about by a personal force rather than by a non-personal force absolve you of moral responsibility for a choice that you yourself obviously made?
It seems clear to me that if I put you in Madoff’s exact circumstances and I give you a choice, and you end up making the same choice, then you deserve the same judgment and punishment for that choice that he deserves. You took the same test and scored the same grade. If you passed, then he passed. If you aren't responsible, then neither is he.
To compatibilist gardeners: how would you respond to this manipulation case? Are you morally responsible for the choice? If not, how can Madoff be responsible? If so, how can a conception of moral responsibility be intuitively plausible if it allows one person to guarantee that another person will become guilty of something?
Shifting the focus to libertarianism, it is commonly assumed that manipulation cases do not threaten the libertarian position in the way that they threaten the compatibilist position. This assumption, in my view, is wrong. Libertarianism offers no meaningful advantages over compatibilism when it comes to problems of manipulation.
On a superficial level, how might a libertarian attempt to escape from the problem? Well, if our universe is indeterministic, or more specifically, if the human brain is an indeterministic physical system, and I put you in Madoff’s exact internal and external circumstances, I won’t be able to guarantee that you will make the same choice that he made. Your choosing differently than he did will be compatible with your having a brain in the same state that his brain was in (with the same PFs). So, by accepting that you would be responsible for the choice, a libertarian doesn’t have to deal with the dilemma of my being able to use technology to seal your moral destiny. The fact of indeterminism prevents that dilemma from emerging.
But this is hardly a solution to the problem. To overcome the obstacle of indeterminism, all I have to do is run the experiment over and over again. If you choose differently than Madoff the first time through, I can just steer you back into Madoff’s circumstances, remanipulate your brain and your PFs to match his, and then release, allowing you to choose again.
The fact that Madoff made a certain immoral choice means that there is a non-zero probability that a brain in the state that his brain was in will arrive at that choice. Thus, given enough trials with your brain in that state, you will eventually make the same choice that he made. It may take a million trials, but we're going to get there eventually.
What happens when we do get there? Say I run the experiment 1,000,000 times, and on the first 999,999 times, you make a different choice, a moral choice. But on the last time, you make Madoff’s choice. Are you any less responsible for that choice than Madoff was for his original choice? Obviously not, and therefore you will deserve the same judgment and punishment for that choice that he deserves.
Does the outcome of the previous 999,999 choices affect whether you are morally responsible for the 1,000,000th choice, the one that was immoral? It certainly would be puzzling for someone to answer yes. Think about how ridiculous the same answer would be if made in the reverse direction. “Yeah, I made a bad choice the first time through, I killed somebody, but I’m not morally responsible for it, because when you reran the scenario 999,999 times, putting me in the same psychological circumstances and giving me additional chances to kill someone, I chose not to kill every time.” Congratulations, but you still made a choice to kill somebody!
And so I pose the question to libertarians: If I can successfully run the manipulation scenario an infinite number of times, then how can the fact of indeterminism help anything? if I run the Madoff manipulation scenario 1,000,000 times on a person, and on the last run, they choose the immoral choice, are they morally responsible for having made that choice? Do they deserve the same judgment and punishment for that choice that Madoff deserves for his? If not, why not? If so, do you think it is problematic that your conception of responsibility allows one person to guarantee that another person will end up guilty of something?
It is commonly thought that being intuitive, or agreeing with common sense, is a virtue in a philosophical theory. But the opposite is really the case. Philosophy that is intuitive is rarely worth reading; we are only bettered by philosophy that strikes us initially as unintuitive.
With the exception of Jean-Paul Sartre, no one is philosophically perfect. Everyone has places where their views need refinement or revision. It is because of this that we read, and sometimes write, philosophy. A philosophy that tells us that we are completely correct as we are is useless to us. We know that we are far from perfect, and we seek to find out how we are defective. A completely intuitive or a completely commonsense philosophy is saying just that, that we are completely correct. At best such a philosophy is useless, and harmful if we take it seriously, since it erects barriers to revising our mistaken beliefs.
My point is that to be worth reading a piece of philosophy should be at least a little unintuitive. It should challenge what we think to some extent. It is in the places where it challenges us that we have a chance to grow. Where it tells us that we are wrong is where we are presented with a new way of looking at things. And it is through such options that our philosophy improves. Now this is certainly not to say that, every time we find something that challenges what we currently think, we should change our minds. Although if that were the case it would take only two contradictory authors to keep us busy, since after reading the first the second would be a challenging new viewpoint to adopt, and then the first would be again, and so on. But every time we are faced with a challenge that we take seriously it gives us something to think about, and if we are wise enough then we will change our views in response to these challenges exactly when doing so would better our philosophy. Now certainly it is possible to improve without these external challenges, but in their absence I think it would be easy to rest content with a defective philosophy, or simply to be blind to significant alternatives.
Is this the death of intuition and common sense as a standard for philosophy? Probably not. Those who like such standards are rarely blind to the obvious consequence that taking them to be the standard implies that we are always correct in our philosophical judgments. There are ways to deflect the ugly implications of this consequence. One way is to simply deny that it is a consequence. This can be done by claiming that there are conflicts in our unreflective judgments that need ironing out, and thus that we can’t simply accept all of our intuitions as is. I’m going to simply pass over this response since it doesn’t seem plausible to me. First it’s not clear how conflicting judgments are to be corrected. What makes changing one a better idea than changing the other? And, more importantly, it is obvious that this approach aims for mere consistency. But why suppose that every philosophical deficiency gives rise to contradiction? Is it not possible to be consistently mistaken? There is nothing inconsistent with believing that one is under the power of an evil deceiver, but that doesn’t make it a good thing to think.
Another possible response is to accept that our unreflective judgments are basically correct, and to argue that philosophy’s job is not to change them, but to systematize them. I consider this to be a much better response, in part because it has the guts to bite the bullet. Does that make it unintuitive? In any case, it forces us to compare the value of revising our philosophical judgments towards some more perfect ideal to the value of systematizing our judgments. This leads us to the more general question of what the value of systematization is. In general systematization allows us to extend from a few knowns to unknowns. For example, a system of laws allows the law to apply to every possible case, while a simple collection of rulings does not. And I think some would claim that this is what goes on in philosophy, that a system of philosophy is supposed to extend our intuitive judgments into areas where we lack them. But I’m not sure that it is necessary. For example, I have never found myself with a shortage of ethical intuitions, although at times what was clear was only that the act in question was neither completely good nor completely bad. They probably aren’t all the best, and I’m sure that many of them are products of biases rooted in childhood. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. Even on more metaphysical matters I find myself with an abundance of intuitions. For example: are dolphins conscious? My unreflective intuition is that they are not. Of course on reflection I begin to doubt this, especially in light of my little experience with them, and then I am not sure any more. But the intuition is there.
Perhaps at the end of the day it becomes a personal matter. I have plenty of intuitions, but little confidence in them. So if you have only a few intuitions but absolute confidence in them perhaps there is nothing a can say to convince you that you shouldn’t make systematization your highest priority. I have an intuition, however, that more people are like me than this hypothetical you.
Now in saying that unintuitive philosophy is the only kind worth reading I don’t mean to erect counter-intuitiveness as a new standard in place of intuitiveness. I am not encouraging taking the most unintuitive philosophy we can find to be the best philosophy. Once we see that a piece of philosophy is unintuitive to some degree it passes this test, and we must resort to other standards to decide between them. Moreover this is a personal test, about what is worth our time, not a guide to stocking library shelves. There is nothing that is intuitive to everyone, and so there is no philosophy that everyone should avoid on that basis (although there are examples of philosophy no one should read for other reasons). And certainly a philosopher cannot be expected to produce something they disagree with just because it is unintuitive. Everyone finds their own theories intuitive on some level, or at least has come to find them intuitive after working with them long enough. Nor should they strive to produce something other people find unintuitive. Like great art, great philosophy is apparently derived from inspiration and not from a formula.
What’s the point of all this then? The point is not to take one standard, intuitiveness, and replace it with another. The point is to highlight that by taking intuitiveness to be a standard we are causing ourselves to be stuck in a philosophical rut. We find what we currently believe to be intuitive, because we are used to it. And if we chose what to believe on the basis of how intuitive we find it to be we will never come to believe anything different. What I desire is not an inversion of this principle, but a suspension of it. And, like Descartes, I think the best way to achieve this suspension may be to create some contrary force to keep it in check. In this case the contrary force is seeing the unintuitive aspects of theories as presenting new options, which are chances for philosophical improvement. In a perfect world this idea meets our natural resistance to unintuitive ideas and negates it in the philosophical sphere.
Posted in Metaphilosophy
First, a stipulated definition (with apologies in advance to PvI for not following his terminological guidelines): let free will be the control condition on moral responsibility.
Now, the historical question. What, if any, philosophers denied the existence of free will prior to, say, 1900? (This is an arbitrary time; I'm actually most interested in whether any ancient, medieval, or modern philosophers denied the existense of free will.)
Bonus question for those who answer the historical question: What reasons were given to support FW skepticism?
I’ve been meaning to post more over the last week, but I’ve been busy getting ready for my presentation to the Arché Summer School.
I though this might be relevant for those working on Environmental Ethics, Philosophy of Religion, and/or Moral Psychology. Best of Luck!
“As the world confronts ecological and economic crises, transpersonal psychology offers innovative, holistic approaches to psychotherapy, health, healing trauma, social relationships and global consciousness. The 2010 Transpersonal Psychology Conference offers presentations, papers, workshops and speakers with a multidisciplinary and integrative approach to human potential, self-development, relationship and community. The theme of this conference is “Spirituality in Action: Bringing Transpersonal Psychology to a World in Crisis.” Sponsored by the Association for Transpersonal Psychology and the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, the conference will be held February 12-14, 2010 at Menlo College, Atherton, CA, USA. Conference themes include: * Advancing Transpersonal Psychotherapy * Bridging North/South Perspectives * Living Socially Engaged Spirituality * Exploring Global Consciousness * Linking Ecology, Psychology, and Spirituality You are invited to submit proposals online for the conference program. Presentations on the conference themes are encouraged, as well as other transpersonal psychology topics. The proposal deadline for paper presentations, workshops, and panels is August 31, 2009. For More Information, visit: http://atpweb.org/calendarDetail.asp?eid=6
From: Forum on Religion and Ecology Newsletter. [3.6] (June 2009) http://religionandecology.org

Some apparently think so:
Now, in the 200th anniversary of Darwin’s birth, a growing number of academics and amateur historians are rediscovering [Alfred Russell] Wallace. Their efforts are raising debate over exactly what Wallace contributed to the theory of evolution, and what role, if any, the spiritual world plays in certain aspects of natural selection.
Beccaloni, a 41-year-old British evolutionary biologist with London’s Natural History Museum, is on a quest to return Wallace to what he sees as his rightful place in history. He and Fred Langford Edwards, a British artist making an audiovisual project about Wallace, are retracing the scientist’s eight-year trip around Southeast Asia.
[...]
“The Darwin industry is what has distorted the whole of history,” Beccaloni said.
Does Wallace deserve greater attention?

Steve Stitch asked me to pass along the following:
There is some sad news. Nicola Knight, a gifted young researcher who worked at the intersection of anthropology, psychology and philosophy, died of a heart attack on June 9, at the age of 33. Nicola had done collaborative work with Justin Barrett, Scott Atran, Dick Nisbett and others. His groundbreaking study of the patterns of justification that people offer for their moral judgments is currently under review. There is a brief memorial notice by Dan Sperber online here.
The death of a star may create a supernova explosion. A massive shock wave radiates throughout the whole star, which heats up and then explodes. This flash is as bright as a whole galaxy and leaves behind a rapidly spinning neutron star.Millions of people who searched for the star's name on Google News were greeted with an error page: "your query looks similar to automated requests from a computer virus or spyware application". Or the impact of a dead star.
The simple and logical argument against free will is that either determinism or indeterminism is true.
If determinism is true, we are not free.
If indeterminism is true, our actions are random, so we did not will them.
We are not responsible either way. Ergo, no free will. Q.E.D.
The flaw in the argument concerns indeterminacy. Because logic is time and space independent, many philosophers assume that if indeterminism if true, randomness is significant and relevant at all times and all places, independent of scale or size.
But indeterminacy is normally important only for microscopic structures. Macroscopic structures, including our brains and bodies, are adequately determined - except when some useful indeterminacy helps us to generate alternative possibilities, or (and this is very important) allows us to be creative and bring genuinely new information into the universe.
So could you accept some chance in your own causal chain that would not make your decisions random?
I suggest seven places where even compatibilists and determinists might accept some chance in the causal chain leading up to their latest decision, which I hope they might agree is an "adequately determined" decision that is truly "up to them."
1) Only at the original moment of the "big bang."
(This leads us to Peter van Inwagen's Consequence Argument).
2) During genetic mutations that created the species homo sapiens.
(Without this chance, none of us would be here.)
3) Nine months before your birth. (It was one in a million which of your father's sperm would win the race to your mother's egg. Without this one, you wouldn't be one of us.)
4) During your moral education.
(These
are those rare events that C. S. Peirce calls the "fixation of
beliefs," and Bob Kane calls "self-forming actions." These are
important because they may contribute to your latest decisions.)
5) When you decided to become a philosopher.
(Again, without this one, you wouldn't be part of the Garden. How many of you think chance might have played a part?)
6) During deliberation about your current options.
(In
these sometimes extended moments, your subconscious processing of
possibilities may consider thousands of input factors and evaluate
enormous numbers of possible outcomes. If you are creative, you may
come up with ideas never thought of by anyone before you. Thus chance
and indeterminacy is involved up until a fraction of a second before
your "moment of choice." This is my Cogito model. www.informationphilosopher.com/freedom/cogito/)
6) During the decision itself.
(Bob
Kane, Laura Ekstrom, Mark Balaguer and others argue that your decision
must not be "determined" by all the considerations that arise during
your deliberation. You are not free enough , they say, even if some of
the alternative posssibilities might be random combinations of your own
past experiences that you have dreamed up yourself.
Compatibilists should be quite content to think that this decision is adequately determined (that randomness is negligible ) by an evaluation process that included our character and values, our habits and preferences, our current feelings and desires, etc. This then is a "kind of freedom available to us," as Galen Strawson recently agreed.)
I think the Libertarians have been right about the need for some indeterminacy, but they are wrong to try to push it into our decisions themselves, with one exception. Mark Balaguer's "torn decisions," perhaps some of Kane's "decisions requiring great effort," and in general Buridan-type "liberty of indifference" decisions, might all be made by flipping a "mental coin." If we are fully aware that it is a random choice, and if we are prepared to accept responsibility either way, perhaps we can still regard this as an act of our will.
On my Information Philosopher website, I have researched over twenty recent philosophers (including a few Gardeners) who have published versions of this simple and logical argument. It apparently has convinced them, and perhaps hundreds or thousands of their philosophy students and readers of their textbooks.
None of them appear to have seen this flaw. Do you agree that there is a flaw here that might be corrected by a clearer description of how indeterminacy can be limited - to do no harm to an adequate determinism.
More important, do you see how indeterminacy can help to provide a kind of freedom from the fixed past (and the laws of nature, as the argument goes) and an ability for humans to be creative individuals?
For your convenience, I quote below many of these versions of the standard argument, which I expect some of you have used from time to time.
Can you read them over with the suggested flaw in mind?
_______________________________
But nevertheless he states the standard argument succinctly:belief that all human actions are subservient to causal laws still remains to be justified. If, indeed, it is necessary that every event should have a cause, then the rule must apply to human behaviour as much as to anything else. But why should it be supposed that every event must have a cause? The contrary is not unthinkable. Nor is the law of universal causation a necessary presupposition of scientific thought.
But now we must ask how it is that I come to make my choice. Either it is an accident that I choose to act as I do or it is not. If it is an accident, then it is merely a matter of chance that I did not choose otherwise; and if it is merely a matter of chance that I did not choose otherwise, it is surely irrational to hold me morally responsible for choosing as I did. But if it is not an accident that I choose to do one thing rather than another, then presumably there is some causal explanation of my choice: and in that case we are led back to determinism.
(Philosophical Essays, 1954, p.275)
Dl. I shall state the view that there is "unbroken causal continuity" in the universe as follows. It is in principle possible to make a sufficiently precise determination of the state of a sufficiently wide region of the universe at time to, and sufficient laws of nature are in principle ascertainable to enable a superhuman calculator to be able to predict any event occurring within that region at an already given time t'.
D2. I shall define the view that "pure chance" reigns to some extent within the universe as follows. There are some events that even a superhuman calculator could not predict, however precise his knowledge of however wide a region of the universe at some previous time.
For the believer in free will holds that no theory of a deterministic sort or of a pure chance sort will apply to everything in the universe: he must therefore envisage a theory of a type which is neither deterministic nor indeterministic in the senses of these words which I have specified by the two definitions DI and D2; and I shall argue that no such theory is possible.
("Free-Will, Praise and Blame," Mind, July 1961, reprinted in Dworkin, 1970)
...the notions of moral guilt, of blame, of moral responsibility are inherently confused and that we can see this to be so if we consider the consequences either of the truth of determinism or of its falsity. The holders of this opinion agree with the pessimists that these notions lack application if determinism is true, and add simply that they also lack it if determinism is false.
(Freedom and Resentment, 1962, reprinted in Watson (ed.), Free Will)
The metaphysical problem of human freedom might be summarized in the following way: "Human beings are responsible agents; but this fact appears to conflict with a deterministic view of human action (the view that every event that is involved in an act is caused by some other event); and it also appears to conflict with an indeterministic view of human action (the view that the act, or some event. that is essential to the act, is not caused at all)." To solve the problem, I believe, we must make somewhat far-reaching assumptions about the self of the agent — about the man who performs the act.
("Freedom and Action," 1964, in Freedom and Determinism, ed. Keith Lehrer, 1966, p.11)
Without free will, we seem diminished, merely the playthings of external forces. How, then, can we maintain an exalted view of ourselves? Determinism seems to undercut human dignity, it seems to undermine our value.
Some would deny what this question accepts as given, and save free will by denying determinism of (some) actions. Yet if an uncaused action is a random happening, then this no more comports with human value than does determinism. Random acts and caused acts alike seem to leave us not as the valuable originators of action but as an arena, a place where things happen, whether through earlier causes or spontaneously.
("Free Will", chapter 4 of Philosophical Explanations, 1981, p.291-2)
Here is an argument that I think is obvious (I don't mean it's obviously right; I mean it's one that should occur pretty quickly to any philosopher who asked himself what arguments could be found to support incompatibilism):
If determinism is true, then our acts are the consequences of the laws of nature and events in the remote past. But it is not up to us what went on before we were born, and neither is it up to us what the laws of nature are. Therefore, the consequences of these things (including our present acts) are not up to us.
I shall call this argument the Consequence Argument.
[A variant argument van Inwagen called the Mind Argument after the Mind journal] proceeds by identifying indeterminism with chance and by arguing that an act that occurs by chance, if an event that occurs by chance can be called an act, cannot be under the control of its alleged agent and hence cannot have been performed freely. Proponents of [this argument] conclude, therefore, that free will is not only compatible with determinism but entails determinism.
(Essay on Free Will, 1983, p.16)
Van Inwagen dramatized his understanding of the indeterministic brain events needed for agent causation by imagining God "replaying" a situation to create exactly the same circumstances and then arguing that decisions would reflect the indeterministic probabilities.
If God caused Marie's decision to be replayed a very large number of times, sometimes (in thirty percent of the replays, let us say) Marie would have agent-caused the crucial brain event and sometimes (in seventy percent of the replays, let us say) she would not have... I conclude that even if an episode of agent causation is among the causal antecedents of every voluntary human action, these episodes do nothing to undermine the prima facie impossibility of an undetermined free act.
("Van Inwagen on Free Will," in Freedom and Determinism, 2004, ed. Joseph Keim Campbell, et al., p.227)
As far as human freedom is concerned, it doesn't matter whether physics is deterministic, as Newtonian physics was, or whether it allows for an indeterminacy at the level of particle physics, as contemporary quantum mechanics does. Indeterminism at the level of particles in physics is really no support at all to any doctrine of the freedom of the will; because first, the statistical indeterminacy at the level of particles does not show any indeterminacy at the level of the objects that matter to us – human bodies, for example. And secondly, even if there is an element of indeterminacy in the behaviour of physical particles – even if they are only statistically predictable – still, that by itself gives no scope for human freedom of the will; because it doesn't follow from the fact that particles are only statistically determined that the human mind can force the statistically-determined particles to swerve from their paths. Indeterminism is no evidence that there is or could be some mental energy of human freedom that can move molecules in directions that they were not otherwise going to move. So it really does look as if everything we know about physics forces us to some form of denial of human freedom.
(Mind, Brains, and Science, 1984, pp.86-7)
It is a compelling objection. Surely we cannot be free agents, in the ordinary, strong, true-responsibility-entailing sense, if determinism is true and we and our actions are ultimately wholly determined by "causes anterior to [our] personal existence"* And surely we can no more be free if determinism is false and it is, ultimately, either wholly or partly a matter of chance or random outcome that we and our actions are as they are?
(Freedom and Belief, 1986, p.25)
The argument is exceedingly familiar, and runs as follows. Either determinism is true or it is not. If it is true, then all our chosen actions are uniquely necessitated by prior states of the world, just like every other event. But then it cannot be the case that we could have acted otherwise, since this would require a possibility determinism rules out. Once the initial conditions are set and the laws fixed, causality excludes genuine freedom.
On the other hand, if indeterminism is true, then, though things could have happened otherwise, it is not the case that we could have chosen otherwise, since a merely random event is no kind of free choice. That some events occur causelessly, or are not subject to law, or only to probabilistic law, is not sufficient for those events to be free choices.
Thus one horn of the dilemma represents choices as predetermined happenings in a predictable causal sequence, while the other construes them as inexplicable lurches to which the universe is randomly prone. Neither alternative supplies what the notion of free will requires, and no other alternative suggests itself. Therefore freedom is not possible in any kind of possible world. The concept contains the seeds of its own destruction.
(Problems in Philosophy: The Limits of Inquiry, 1993, p.80)
...the well-known dilemma of determinism. One horn of this dilemma is the argument that if an action was caused or necessitated, then it could not have been done freely, and hence the agent is not responsible for it. The other horn is the argument that if the action was not caused, then it is inexplicable and random, and thus it cannot be attributed to the agent, and hence, again, the agent cannot be responsible for it. In other words, if our actions are caused, then we cannot he responsible for them; if they are not caused, we cannot be responsible for them. Whether we affirm or deny necessity and determinism, it is impossible to make any coherent sense of moral freedom and responsibility.
(Freedom and Moral Sentiment, 1995, p.14)
Let us now consider the libertarians, who claim that we have a capacity for indeterministically free action, and that we are thereby morally responsible. According to one libertarian view, what makes actions free is just their being constituted (partially) of indeterministic natural events. Lucretius, for example, maintains that actions are free just in virtue of being made up partially of random swerves in the downward paths of atoms. These swerves, and the actions they underlie, are random (at least) in the sense that they are not determined by any prior state of the universe.
If quantum theory is true, the position and momentum of micro-particles exhibit randomness in this same sense, and natural indeterminacy of this sort might also be conceived as the metaphysical foundation of indeterministically free action. But natural indeterminacies of these types cannot, by themselves, account for freedom of the sort required for moral responsibility.
As has often been pointed out, such random physical events are no more within our control than are causally determined physical events, and thus, we can no more be morally responsible for them than, in the indeterminist opinion, we can be for events that are causally determined.
(Noûs 29, 1995, reprinted in Free Will, ed. D. Pereboom, 1997, p.252)
a random event does not fit the concept of free will any more than a lawful one does, and could not serve as the long-sought locus of moral responsibility. (How The Mind Works, 1997, p.54)
Among the grandest of philosophical puzzles is a riddle about moral responsibility. Almost all of us believe that each one of us is, has been, or will be responsible for at least some of our behavior. But how can this be so if determinism is true and all our thoughts, decisions, choices, and actions are simply droplets in a river of deterministic events that began its flow long, long before we were ever born? The specter of determinism, as it were, devours agents, for if determinism is true, then arguably we never initiate or control our actions; there is no driver in the driver's seat; we are simply one transitional link in an extended deterministic chain originating long before our time. The, puzzle is tantalizingly gripping and ever so perplexing — because even if determinism is false, responsibility seems impossible: how can we be morally accountable for behavior that issues from an "actional pathway" in which there is an indeterministic break? Such a break might free us from domination or regulation by the past, but how can it possibly help to ensure that the reins of control are now in our hands?
(Moral Appraisability, 1998, p.vii)
Accounts of free will purport to tell us what is required if we are to be free agents, individuals who, at least sometimes when we act, act freely. Libertarian accounts, of course, include a requirement of indeterminism of one sort or another somewhere in the processes leading to free actions. But while proponents of such views take determinism to preclude free will, indeterminism is widely held to be no more hospitable. An undetermined action, It is said would be random or arbitrary. It could not be rational or rationally explicable. The agent would lack control over her behavior. At best, indeterminism in the processes leading to our actions would be superfluous, adding nothing of value even if it did not detract from what we want.
(Libertarian Accounts of Free Will. Oxford, 2003, p. xiii)If the truth of determinism would preclude free will, it is far from obvious how indeterminism would help.
(Incompatibilist (Nondeterministic) Theories of Free Will. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, September 2008)
Any event that’s undetermined is uncaused and, hence, accidental. That is, it just happens; i.e., happens randomly. Thus, if our decisions are undetermined, then they are random, and so they couldn’t possibly be ‘‘appropriately non-random’’. Or to put the point the other way around, if our decisions are appropriately non-random, then they are authored and controlled by us; that is, we determine what we choose and what we don’t choose, presumably for rational reasons. Thus, if our decisions are appropriately non-random, then they couldn’t possibly be undetermined. Therefore, libertarianism is simply incoherent: it is not possible for a decision to be undetermined and appropriately non-random at the same time.
(A Coherent, Naturalistic, and Plausible Formulation of Libertarian Free Will, NOÛS 38:3 (2004) 379–406)
There are but these two alternatives. Either an action is causally determined. Or, to the extent that it is causally undetermined, its occurrence depends on chance. But chance alone does not constitute freedom. On its own, chance comes to nothing more than randomness. And one thing does seem to be clear. Randomness, the operation of mere chance, clearly excludes control.
(Free Will: A Very Short Introduction, Oxford, 2004, p. 16)
Either causal determinism is true, or it is not. If it is true, then we would lack freedom (in the alternative-possibilities and source senses). If it is false, then we would lack freedom in that we would not select the path into the future — we would not be the source of our behavior. Indeterminism appears to entail that it is not the agent who is the locus of control.
(Free Will:Critical Concepts in Philosophy, Routledge, 2005, vol. I, p. xxix)
There are three standard responses to the problem of free will. The first, known as 'hard determinism', accepts the incompatibility of free will and determinism ('incompatibilism'), and asserts determinism, thus rejecting free will. The second response is libertarianism (again, no relation to the political philosophy), which accepts incompatibilism, but denies that determinism is true. This may seem like a promising approach. After all, has not modern physics shown us that the universe is indeterministic? The problem here is that the sort of indeterminism afforded by modern physics is not the sort the libertarian needs or desires. If it turns out that your ordering soup is completely determined by the laws of physics, the state of the universe 10,000 years ago, and the outcomes of myriad subatomic coin flips, your appetizer is no more freely chosen than before. Indeed, it is randomly chosen, which is no help to the libertarian.
(Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London B (2004) 359, p.1776)
Either determinism is true or it's not. If determinism is true, then my choices are ultimately caused by events and conditions outside my control, so I am not their first cause and therefore...I am neither free nor responsible. If determinism is false, then something that happens inside me (something that I call “my choice” or “my decision”) might be the first event in a causal chain leading to a sequence of body movements that I call “my action”. But since this event is not causally determined, whether or not it happens is a matter of chance or luck. Whether or not it happens has nothing to do with me; it is not under my control any more than an involuntary knee jerk is under my control. Therefore, if determinism is false, I am not the first cause or ultimate source of my choices and...I am neither free nor responsible.
(Arguments for Incompatibilism. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, 2007)
The ascent problem is to show free will is incompatible with determinism. The descent problem is to show that free will is compatible with indeterminism.
Kane says that if free will is not compatible with determinism, it does not seem to be compatible with indeterminism either.
Imagine that the task for libertarians in solving this dilemma is to
ascend to the top of a mountain and get down the other side. (Call the
mountain "Incompatibilist Mountain": figure 4.1). Getting to the top
consists in showing that free will is incompatible with determinism.
(Call it the Ascent Problem.) Getting down the other side (call it the
Descent Problem) involves showing how one can make sense of a free will
that requires indeterminism.
(A Contemporary Introduction to Free Will, 2005, p.34)
__________________________________
Note that compatiblism with determinism has always been a great deal easier to accept than compatibilism with indeterminism. Professed "agnostics" on the truth of determinism and indeterminism implicitly equate the two difficulties, whereas there is a great asymmetry between the two. Indeterminism (irrational chance) is much more difficult to reconcile with freedom than is (causal and rational) determinism.
UPDATE, June 26, 2009: Anyone interested in how I ended up developing this argument should check out the paper just published in PPR.
One of the more difficult issues for Kantian moral theorists is how, if at all, our moral obligations should be sensitive to others' wrongdoing. It seems fairly obvious that what we are morally required to do can change in response to others' immoral conduct. A clear example is promise keeping: If A and B agree to a mutually beneficial promise, but A doesn't fulfill the terms of their promise, B is presumably not obligated to fulfill them either. So A's wrongdoing influences B's moral obligations. Another example is punishment: Since punishment is the infliction of harm, suffering, or deprivation (which is typically wrong), it must be the case that the wrongdoer's wrongdoing justifies inflicting otherwise wrongful harm, suffering, or deprivation on her. This issue is acute for Kantians because Kantianism has long been seen as somehow more "principled" than consequentialism. The challenge for Kantians is to offer an explanation of how our moral obligations should be sensitive to others' wrongdoing that invokes key Kantian values or principles (rational autonomy, the categorical imperative, etc.) without becoming so sensitive to others' wrongdoing that Kantianism becomes indistinguishable from outright consequentialism.
The example that has of course stimulated much of the discussion surrounding this problem is Kant's treatment of 'the murderer at the door' in his essay "On a Supposed Right to Lie." There Kant seems to say that lying to a would-be murderer about the whereabouts of the innocent victim he intends to kill would be morally wrong. Most Kantians (and most reasonable people in general) find this conclusion troubling if not absurd: If ever there were a situation in which lying is not only morally permitted, but even morally required, that would be it!
What follows is my own (admittedly long-ish) attempt to answer the 'murderer at the door' problem in Kantian terms. Whether my attempt is of value in addressing the larger theoretical problem of how our moral obligations should be sensitive to others' wrongdoing, I'm not sure, but here goes:
My argument is actually quite simple:
1. It is morally permissible (from a Kantian perspective) for an innocent person (i.e., a person who does
not deserve to die for some other reason) to lie to a murderer in self-defense.
2. If it is morally permissible (from a Kantian perspective) for an innocent person to lie to a murderer in
self-defense, then it is also morally permissible (from a Kantian perspective) for any person to lie to a
murderer in the defense of another innocent person.
------------------------------------------------
It is morally permissible for any person to lie to a murderer in the defense of another innocent person.
Obviously, my task is to defend the truth of the premises.
P1. One of the great strengths of Kantian moral theory is its powerful account of what's wrong with manipulative or coercive behavior such as torture, promise breaking, and lying. Such acts in effect treat others as mere means to our ends, inasmuch as we manipulate the other person's behavior or expectations in order to advance our own happiness. In the particular case of lying, the manipulation or coercion involved is doxastic, as Sissela Bok has observed: A lie attempts to cause another person to act on a belief that the liar believes to be false so as to benefit the liar.
But I would suggest that in the 'murderer at the door' example, two conditions necessary for lying to be wrongful (in Kantian terms) are not present: First, the lie is not meant to advance the happiness either of the liar or of the potential murder victim, but to thwart the abuse of the victim's autonomy that her murder would represent. Hence, if lying to the murderer is manipulation at all, it is manipulation in the service of the would-be victim's autonomy, a central Kantian value. Second, while Kantian ethics prioritizes the value of autonomous rational agency over happiness, it does not follow from this that we are obligated to honor another agent's autonomous choices no matter the ends that a given exercise of autonomy is meant to serve. In the 'murderer at the door', the murderer intends to exercise his autonomy in the service of a morally impermissible end, and Kant claims that we are obligated to promote others' ends (i.e., others' happiness) only if those ends are themselves morally permissible. I take that to be an indirect statement of the notion that whether we must honor another's autonomy on a given occasion may depend on whether that autonomy is being exercised in morally permissible ways. Autonomy may be the highest moral value, but it is not therefore an unconditioned value. To manipulate by lying is to deceive in order to thwart another's otherwise permissible ends. In the murderer at the door example, this is not what we are considering doing.
It would seem to follow that if I am innocent (i.e., I do not deserve to die for other reasons), my lying in self-defense is not an impermissible violation of the liar's rational autonomy.
2. But would it be permissible for me to lie to the murderer in order to save another's life? To see why it would be, I'm going to introduce what I will call the Kantian Symmetry Thesis. An 'agent' is the person who actually performs the act, and a 'beneficiary' is the person whose autonomy is protected or advanced by the agent's act.
Kantian Symmetry Thesis: Any morally permissible act performed by agent A in which A is also the act's beneficiary is also permissible if another agent B (relevantly similar to A) is the beneficiary of A's act instead.
We see throughout Kant's casuistry implicit appeals to this thesis: Suicide, Kant thought, is wrong for just the same reasons (and in just the same circumstances) that homicide is wrong. Similarly, in Kant's sexual ethics (not that we should accept much of it of course!) acts that treat another's sexuality as a mere tool of one's happiness (rape) are wrong in the same way that acts that treat one's own sexuality as a tool of one's own happiness (masturbation) are wrong. In other words, Kant did not think that there exists a special moral relationship to oneself such that the obligations one bears vis-a-vis oneself are importantly distinct from those one bears toward other agents. (This is a way in which Kant was not a 'liberal,' since one important feature of liberalism has been the idea of a domain of self-regarding behavior that is governed by different norms from the domain of other-regarding behavior).
So, if it is permissible for me to lie to prevent a murderer from killing innocent me, than by the KST, it would follow that it would also be permissible for me to lie to prevent that same murderer from killing another innocent.
------
Again, I don't know if my thoughts about how to address the murderer at the door hold any general lessons about how to develop a non-ideal Kantian theory (one that takes account of others' wrongdoing), but any ideas or suggestions are certainly welcome.
University of Sydney, Aug 6-7
Organizer: Richard Joyce (richard.jo...@arts.usyd.edu.au)
SPEAKERS:
David Copp (UC Davis)
Justin D'Arms (Ohio State)
Janice Dowell (Nebraska-Lincoln)
Jamie Dreier (Brown)
Josh Gert (Florida State)
Daniel Jacobson (University of Michigan)
Don Loeb (Vermont)
David Sobel (Nebraska-Lincoln)
Kim Sterelny (ANU)
Further info, including venue, will be announced in due course. There is no formal registration, but if you think you might come along, please send Richard Joyce an email so that we get a sense of numbers.
One of the more serious attempts to provide an expressivist semantics for moral terms (broadly construed) is Gibbard’s. The basic idea is that they express plans. “I should pack” expresses my plan to pack; “You should pack” expresses a contingency plan for the (unlikely) case that I am you. “Journal editors should move papers along faster” expresses a plan for being a journal editor. And so on. Call this view the Gibbard Semantics, or GS.
It seems to me that there are other possible semantics along this line. Consider plans for what I would have someone do, if I were in control. For example, if I were in control of the government, I would have the government give philosophy professors large cash subsidies. If I were in control of journal editors, I would have the editors accept all my manuscripts without revision. Etc. Perhaps I could express these plans somehow. Perhaps like this: “The government should give philosophy professors large cash subsidies; editors should accept all my manuscripts without revision.” In the normal case, I am in control of myself, so “I should…” sentences would express normal plans. Call this the Nietzsche Semantics for moral terms, or NS.
Clearly, NS is not equivalent to GS. One is likely to indulge considerably more temptation to exploit others under NS than under GS. For example, if I were in control of my neighbor, I would have him mow my lawn for me; under NS I would therefore claim, “My neighbor should mow my lawn.” On the other hand, if I were my neighbor, I don’t think I would mow my (that is, HW’s) lawn, so under GS I would not claim, “My neighbor should mow my lawn.”
Suppose that much is right. My next point is that, if expressivism is true, it is an empirical question which states of mind people are expressing when they make should-claims. That is, whether GS or NS or some other S gives the meaning of ‘should’ and cognate terms, depends on which mental states correlate with what should-talk.
However, there is no particular reason to think we’re all on the same page. Some people might express the plans they have for being journal editors; others might express their plans for journal editors under their control. (In general, if you think there is anything to a “hermeneutic of suspicion” or “ideology” then you should think that people sometimes deploy NS-ish should-talk.) Moreover, there is no reason that an individual person should be consistent with all uses of ‘should’ and cognate terms. Sometimes he might express one kind of state, sometimes another. And he might have hefty unconscious motives for disguising this fact from himself.
All that means, I think, that an expressivist semantics makes it highly empirically likely that we talk past one another, morally speaking, much of the time. The journal editors say, “Journal editors should be impartially rigorous” and the grad students say, “Journal editors should go easy on young people,” and, if they are expressing different mental states, there is no disagreement. Similar problems can be generated for reasoning, especially public reasoning between two people. This is Frege-Geach with a vengeance.
I think the source of the problem lies in the fact that we normally think that meanings are public, or determined by something about a whole linguistic population, while an expressivist semantics is committed to the view that meanings are private, determined by what mental states an individual is expressing. Given that, the danger of talking past one another is quite real, whereas we normally would not think it would be.
Here's the program for a workshop on Attention and Consciousness, put on by the ANU Centre for Consciousness. It will be held in the Sparke Helmore Lecture Theatre in the ANU College of Law later this week. If you'd like to attend, please email dicrosse [[at]] coombs.anu.edu.au.
THURSDAY JUNE 25
8:40-9 Coffee/registration
9-10:30 Eric Schwitzgebel (Philosophy, UC Riverside)
Consciousness and Attention
11-12:30 Matthew Finkbeiner (Cognitive Science, Macquarie)
Visual Attention and Reportability
2-3:30 Brian Scholl (Psychology, Yale)
The Logic of Seeing (and not Seeing)
4-5:30 Ned Block (Philosophy, NYU)
Attention and Veridicality
7pm Conference Dinner
FRIDAY JUNE 26
9-10:30 Chris Mole (Philosophy, UBC)
Attending and Referring
11-12:30 John Campbell (Philosophy, UC Berkeley)
Where Does Consciousness Fit In?
On the Boolean Map Theory of Visual Attention
2-3:30 Declan Smithies (Philosophy, ANU/OSU)
What Is Attention?
4-5:30 David Chalmers (Philosophy, ANU)
Wrap-Up/Discussion
I have long been convinced of the soundness of the luck argument against standard accounts of libertarianism (the qualification ‘standard’ is necessary; I believe that libertarianisms that are no more subject to luck than the best compatibilisms are possible, but I don’t want to get into that argument right now). The luck argument, as I understand it, targets moral responsibility: if an agent Xs, where X-ing is bad, and they are lucky to X, inasmuch as had luck played out differently, they would have performed some action incompatible with X (or not action at all), then they are not responsible for X-ing.
The question I am currently grappling with is why are standard libertarianisms subject to an unacceptable degree or kind of luck: that is, what condition or conditions on moral responsibility are not satisfied by an agent who is subject to responsibility-undermining luck? The way in which I set out the luck argument above is influenced by (or perhaps influences) the condition on moral responsibility I am tempted by. Call it the contrastive principle. It is intended as a necessary condition:
An agent is morally responsible for X-ing only if the event of his X-ing is the (non-deviant) upshot of his decision to X rather than Y, where X-ing and Y-ing have conflicting moral valences. An agent can satisfy the contrastive principle either directly – by deciding to X rather than Y – or indirectly; by being strongly disposed on the current occasion to X because of past occasions on which he directly satisfied the contrastive principle.
The above is probably a little obscure, so let me say just a little bit more. Moral valences are polarities; the moral valence of an act is its goodness or badness. Thus, an agent satisfies the contrastive principle directly by choosing a bad action rather than a good one, or vice-versa (actually, I think moral responsibility unlike moral goodness tracks subjective judgments; so really it is by choosing an action that he takes to be bad rather than good that an agent satisfies the principle). I want the contrastive principle to be satisfiable by agents in Frankfurt-style cases (despite my doubts about such cases). The intuitive idea is that we blame agents for choosing the bad rather than the good, and vice-versa for praise.
I have a feeling that the contrastive principle has problems. At the moment, its only a vague feeling. Want to help turn it into a conviction?
I’m about to head away for the weekend, so I won’t be responding to (or moderating) comments for the next few days unless I spend some of my vacation time on the internet. (That’s not to say I’ll actually be off the blog…)
The good stuff is here.
Let's get a little down to earth here at PEA Soup: I may have to confront an actual ethical quandary in a few months, and I'd be interested in hearing people's thoughts about how I ought to respond.
Budget woes in the California State University system are severe. One possibility being considered for the fall is to reduce personnel costs by imposing 'furloughs' on all CSU employees, faculty included. This would mandate that faculty take 1-2 days off per month and take about a 5% cut in their gross pay. Now, as I gather most people understand, I don't actually teach, attend meetings or even come to my campus 5 days a week. The norm is that I come three or four days a week, and often spend the other weekdays, my evenings, and my weekends doing much of the work that constitutes my job (preparing class meeting, grading papers, doing my philosophical research and writing). There's definitely five days per week of work, just not five days per week at work.
The issue is: Should I respond to the furlough mandate by working less, the equivalent of 1-2 days per month? And if so, where should I reduce my efforts? Some possibilities:
I could do nothing and essentially absorb the furlough. After all, given my work patterns, I can simply do what I've always done. It's not as if the state will ask me to report which 1-2 days per month I'm not working that I used to work! The problems with doing nothing are twofold: First, assuming that my existing salary adequately reflects the value of my work, then it seems unjust to me to do that work while being paid less for it. The state is legally entitled to impose the furlough, but it does not seem like an unjust response for me to work less for less pay. Second, working just as much sends a misleading message to students and to the general public: that diminishing resources for public education won't affect faculty performance and educational quality. Not to be too political here, but very often I suspect the general public would in fact like something for nothing (or more charitably, a lot for very little), and indeed, the present budgetary crisis is at least in part the product of that irrational attitude. The lack of funding has led to severe monetary constraints, but I fear that doing nothing hides those constraints (and their effect on educational quality) from the public. And as a teacher, I see myself as educating my students not only in my discipline, but in a more general way, to shape their choices and attitudes on the basis of a realistic and clear-eyed worldview.
But supposing I work less -- where should the reduction in effort come? I could do less by way of research. But I find research rewarding and it's clearly in my professional interests to be a productive scholar. I could actually not come to campus once per month, perhaps on a day I'm supposed to be teaching. But that hurts students. I could perhaps teach less effectively -- returning student papers more slowly, offering less feedback, etc. But that hurts students too. And to my mind, students are mostly innocent in this situation — I should mention they're also being asked to pay much higher tuition this year — and so it's wrong to ask them to bear the costs of the crisis. So I don't see a place to reduce my efforts that isn't injurious to myself or to other innocent people.
So: is there a way to treat myself fairly, send the right message about the budgetary realities to the students, and not harm or shortchange innocent people? I'd be interested in hearing some creative responses that I might have overlooked.
The Law and Neuroscience Colloquium will take place on July 6-7 at University College, London, and the Garden's own John Fischer will be presenting his reply to the luck objection on behalf of the libertarian.
Here is an interesting way of making explicit some of the tensions within an externalist account of evidence. I’m drawing here on some points Roger White made at the Arché Scepticism Conference, though I’m not sure Roger is perfectly happy with this way of putting things.
In what follows I’ll use ‘Pr’ for the evidential probability function (and hence assume that one exists), E(a) as a description for a’s evidence, Cr(p, a) for a’s credence in p, and Exp(X, a) as the expected value of random variable X according to probability function Pr conditioned on E(a). Then the following three statements are inconsistent. [There used to be a typo in the previous sentence, which Clayton noted in comments.]
The intuition behind 1 is that for a rational agent, credence is responsive to the evidence.
The intuition behind 2 is that for a rational agent, their credences match up with what they think their credences ought to be. If 2 fails, then rational agents will find themselves taking bets that they (rationally!) judge that they should not take. Roger’s paper at the conference did a really good job of bringing out how odd this option is.
The intuition behind 3 is that not all perfectly rational agents know what their evidence is. So if p is part of a’s evidence, but a does not know that p is part of their evidence, then Pr(p | E(a)) will be 1, although Exp(Pr(p| E(a)), a) will be less than 1. I believe Williamson has some more dramatic violations of this principle in intuitive models, but all we need is one violation to get the example going.
Given that the 3 are inconsistent, we have an interesting paradox on our hands. I think, despite its plausibility, that the thing to give up is 2. Credences should be responsive to evidence. If you don’t know what your evidence is, you can’t know that you’re being responsive to evidence, i.e. being rational. It might be that all of the possible errors are on one side of the correct position. In that case, your best estimate of what you should do will diverge from what you should do. So anyone who thinks evidence isn’t always luminous will think that we will have oddities like the oddities used to motivate 2. So I think we have to learn to live with its failures.
Everyone at the conference seemed to assume that that’s also what Williamson would agree, and say that 2 is what should be given up. I’m not actually sure, as a matter of Williamson interpretation, that that’s correct. Williamson denies that we can interpret evidential probabilities in terms of credences of a hypothetically rational agent. It might be that he would give up both 1 and 2, and deny that there is any simple relationship between rational credence and evidential probability. Or he might accept that Exp(Pr(p| E(a)), a) is a better guide to rational credence than Pr(p | E(a)).
Whatever way we look at it though, I think that this is an interesting little paradox, and one of several reasons I liked the conference at the weekend was that I realised it existed.
There is a mistake on page 49 of Lewis's "Counterfactual dependence and time's arrow" (1979). Since the mistake seems to be repeated all the time, it might be worth pointing it out.
Page 49 is where Lewis lists similarity standards for his analysis of counterfactuals. The analysis, recall, says that "if A were the case, then C" is true iff the closest A-worlds are C-worlds (or, more precisely, iff either there are no A-worlds or some A&C-worlds are closer to the actual world than any A&~C world). Closeness is a matter of similarity, and Lewis indicates what the relevant respects of similarity might be for certain ordinary counterfactuals in section 3.3 of his 1973 book, and again in the 1979 article on counterfactual dependence. Roughly, the closest A-worlds are those that perfectly match the actual world across as much of spacetime as possible without diverse and widespread violations of the actual laws. This won't do for indeterministic worlds, where generally no laws need to be violated at all in order to ensure perfect match of futures even after earlier divergence. So Lewis restricts his standards to deterministic worlds, returning to the indeterministic case in the 1986 postscript to the 1979 paper.
Now consider the following situation, due to Sydney Morgenbesser.
You bet that a certain fair coin toss will result in tails; but the coin lands heads. If you had bet on heads, you would have won.
This is widely supposed to be a problem for Lewis's 1973/1979 account: by this account, the closest antecedent worlds are worlds where a small miracle makes you bet on heads instead of tails. Without a big and widespread miracle, all such worlds differ from the actual world throughout the future light cone of the betting event. Introducing further small miracles would therefore needlessly detract from similarity. Hence all those worlds evolve by the actual laws of nature. Since the coin is indeterministic, laws and history leave it open whether the coin lands heads or tails. So it is not true that at all the closest worlds where you bet on heads, you win. The intuitively true counterfactuals comes out false.
But this is all wrong. For one, the 1973/1979 account is silent on indeterministic cases. And even if we ignore the restriction to determinacy and apply Lewis's standards, we can't assume that the coin toss is the only indeterministic event in the history of the world. If Morgenbesser's situation takes place in a thoroughly indeterministic universe, the closest antecedent worlds (by the 1979 standards) are miracle-free worlds where an entirely lawful, indeterministic event makes you bet on heads, and where other indeterministic events make the future perfectly match the actual future. In all such worlds, the coin lands heads. Morgenbesser's counterfactual comes out true.
One of those who mistakenly took Morgenbesser's case to be relevant to Lewis's 1973/1979 account was Lewis himself. On page 49 of the 1979 paper, he adds a further condition to the similarity standards given above. The added condition (numbered "4") says that "approximate overall similarity" is of "little or no importance" when comparing worlds. Lewis notes that "it is a good question whether approximate similarities of particular fact should have little weight or none. Different cases come out differently, and I would like to know why. Tichy and Jackson give cases which appear to come out right [...] only if approximate similarities count for nothing; but Morgenbesser has given a case [...] which appears to go the other way."
Apparently Lewis thought that if approximate similarities get some weight in Morgenbesser's example, then worlds where the coin lands heads come out closer to the actual world than worlds where it lands tails. But the patch is not only unnecessary, it also doesn't work. There are many respects in which the worlds with heads are less similar to the original world, e.g. with respect to your losing the bet. Depending on the story (think: high stakes), this dissimality can easily outweigh any approximate similarity gained by keeping fixed the outcome of the coin toss.
The upshot is twofold.
First, Lewis never had any good reason for assigning positive weight to approximate overall similarity in his standards for deterministic worlds. The only reason he gives is the irrelevant Morgenbesser case. As he points out, the addition yields wrong results in various other cases, which, unlike Morgenbesser's, do not involve indeterminacy. We should therefore just ignore the mistakenly added condition 4. Sadly, many philosophers still think that approximate similarity is somehow very important for Lewis's analysis, and that examples of the Tichy-Jackson type pose a big problem for his account.
Second, we should stop repeating Lewis's mistake to think that Morgenbesser-type cases are relevant to his 1973/1979 account. Such cases are interesting, but they should be discussed at the right place: when we're dealing with similarity standards for indeterministic worlds. In this context, the 1973/1979 standards are not meant to apply.
Inspired by some things Stewart Cohen and Jonathan Vogel said at the weekend’s scepticism conference, I’ve written a short note on the intersection of inductive reasoning and suppositional reasoning.
Here’s the first paragraph, which gives you a flavour of what I’m arguing against.
Here’s a fairly quick argument that there is contingent a priori knowledge. Assume there are some ampliative inference rules. Since the alternative appears to be inductive scepticism, this seems like a safe enough assumption. Such a rule will, since it is ampliative, licence some particular inference From A infer B where A does not entail B. That’s just what it is for the rule to be ampliative. Now run that rule inside suppositional reasoning. In particular, first assume A, then via this rule infer B. Now do a step of →-introduction, inferring A → B and discharging the assumption A. Since A does not entail B, this will be contingent, and since it rests on a sound inference with no (undischarged) assumptions, it is a priori knowledge.
It has been a while since we’ve had a links post.
Russ has released the program for the 2009 Madison Metaethics Workshop. Needless to say, it looks good.
University of Wisconsin - Madison
SEPTEMBER 11-13, 2009
ABOUT THE WORKSHOP - KEYNOTE - PROGRAM
WORKSHOP SITE - LODGING - REGISTRATION - TRAVEL TO MADISON - PAST WORKSHOPS
6th Annual Metaethics Workshop
All Sessions in 313 Pyle Center (702 Langdon Street)
FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 11
9am - 10:15am JON TRESAN (Florida)
Naturalistic Moral Realism, Moral Twin Earth, and the Meta-Moral Use of Moral Words
Chair: Christian Coons (Bowling Green)
10:40am - Noon EARL CONEE (Rochester)
The Best Alternative
Chair: David Merli (Franklin & Marshall)
1:30pm - 2:45pm SARAH McGRATH (Princeton)
Moral Knowledge and Experience
Chair: Luke Robinson (SMU)
3:00pm - 4:30pm CHRIS HEATHWOOD (Colorado)
Desire-Based Theories of Reasons, Pleasure & Welfare
Chair: Christian Miller (Wake Forest)
4:45pm - 6pm SHARON STREET (NYU)
Evolution and the Normativity of Epistemic Reasons
Chair: Noell Birondo (Claremont McKenna)
8pm -11 pm RECEPTION (Memorial Union, Room TBA)
SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 12
9am - 10:15am PHIL CLARK (Toronto)
Metaethics and the Mince-Pie Syllogism: Reflections on a Philosophical Joke
Chair: Janice Dowell (Nebraska)
10:40am - Noon CAMPBELL BROWN (Edinburgh)
A New & Improved Supervenience Argument for Ethical Descriptivism
Chair: Carla Bagnoli (UW-Milwaukee)
1:30pm - 2:45pm DAVID SOBEL (Nebraska)
Parfit’s Case against Subjectivism
Chair: Teemu Toppinen (Helsinki)
3:00pm - 4:30pm ALLAN GIBBARD (Michigan)
***KEYNOTE ADDRESS***
4:45pm - 6pm JONAS OLSON (Stockholm)
Getting Real about Moral Fictionalism
Chair: Neil Sinclair (Nottingham)
6:30pm DINNER (University Club 803 State Street)
SUNDAY SEPTEMBER 13
9:30am - 10:45am MATT BEDKE (British Columbia)
Oughts versus Requirements
Chair: Michael Titelbaum (Wisconsin)
11:00am -12:15pm PAUL KATSAFANAS (New Mexico)
Activity and Passivity in Reflective Agency
Chair: TBA
More information about the Workshop, including copies of each paper (to be posted on August 13th) can be found at the Worskhop website:
https://mywebspace.wisc.edu/shaferlandau/web/metaethics/workshop_2009/
The Arché Scepticism Conference held over the weekend was a great success. Thanks to all the organisers, presenters, commentators and questioners for a great learning experience. For a real-time recap, see the conferences Twitter feed.
I’ll be posting my paper as soon as I’ve figured out how to respond to objections Martin Smith and Elia Zardini. That should be sometime in 2011-12. (I suspect a few other paper givers will be in the same position when it comes to dealing with objections Elia raised.)
The best slides from the conference were by Roger White. In fact it wasn’t very close. The best title was to Elia’s reply to Anthony Bruekner. Any other participants want to add some more prizes from the conference?
Perhaps three isn't too many, but it does feel unwieldy. Nevertheless, it seems to me these are all different distinctions in value, even though many people write as if they are the same:
1. Extrinsic-intrinsic
2. Conditional-unconditional
3. Priceable-priceless
Whether something has extrinsic or intrinsic value is a question of where it gets its value—i.e. from something else or from itself. (Instrumental value is thus one kind of extrinsic value, but it is not the only kind; Rae Langton, in her 2007 Phil Review paper, “Objective and Unconditioned Value,” proposes symbolic value as an example of noninstrumental extrinsic value.) This is “something else” intensionally, and not necessarily extensionally, so constitutive value is a form of intrinsic value. E.g. if Mill is right that virtue is valuable because it is a part of happiness, which has intrinsic value, then virtue has intrinsic value.
Whether something has conditional or unconditional value is a question of whether it has its value in virtue of its relation to something else, or rather in all circumstances. Constitutive value is thus an example of intrinsic but conditional value. (And Langton gives the additional example of self-conferred value.)
Whether something has priceable or priceless value is a question of whether there is anything for which one could rationally trade it. I suppose if something has extrinsic value then it must be priceable—it would always be rational to trade it for either the thing from which it gets its value. But consequentialism embodies the notion that intrinsic value can also be priceable.
The issue I’m trying to work out is the relation between un/conditionality and priceability. I think there’s such a thing as conditional priceless value. Consider, for example, the value of time spent with a loved one—it might be priceless, but only on the condition that the relationship hasn’t fallen apart. Is there unconditional priceable value? It strikes me that there could be, but you could rationally trade a thing of unconditional priceable value only for another thing of unconditional value (either priceless or of equal or higher price).
I care about this, obviously, because the Kantian idea that humanity or rational nature is an end-in-itself usually contains all of these: intrinsic, unconditional, priceless value. And I suspect different kinds of value are carrying more weight than others, in different arguments. More specifically, I suspect the really crucial Kantian insight is that something or things have value without price. And, yes, I'm ignoring the subjective-objective distinction, for now.
What do you think?
Al Mele has asked me to post the following message and cover art for his latest book. The message and art are below the fold.
A few people have asked about the cover of my new book, *Effective Intentions: The Power of Conscious Will*. The cover Amazon displays for it is not the cover of my book, and the OUP page displays only a thumbnail. My daughter Angela painted the artwork for the book; so I’d very much like people to be able to see it on line.
Best Wishes,
I think of myself as a fence-sitting agnostic. By that I mean that, although I don’t know whether or not God exists, I would very much like to know. Thus I’m far from those agnostics who say that it is impossible for anyone to know whether God exists, and also from those who claim that as a matter of fact no one knows it. I think it’s possible that some people know; all I can claim is that I don’t know myself.
Not only would I very much like to know whether or not God exists, I have a preferred answer: I’d like it to be true that God exists. This is because I think that the world would be a better place if God existed than if He didn’t—and the fact that the world isn’t a better place than it is is one reason I tend to doubt that He does.
I say this in spite of the fact that I’ve given a couple of (what I take to be) plausible arguments that a God of some sort exists, both here and here.
There are two main things that, for now, prevent me from accepting their conclusion: First, I think that whatever force they may have is in all probability defeated by the various arguments from evil. Second, I think that both the Deistic and Theistic conceptions of God face difficult problems. Why, on the Deistic view, would God create the universe and just sit by and watch things happen? Why in particular, would God refrain from making any kind of revelation? (Thomas Aquinas gives some persuasive arguments as to why it would be good for God to propose some things to be believed on faith, which can be found here.)
As an instance of this problem, consider the pervasive moral disagreements there have been between different societies and within a given society at different times. Why wouldn’t God reveal who’s right and who’s wrong, especially on the most important issues? Why, for example, would God allow the institution of slavery to endure for thousands of years without informing us of His disapproval?
On the Theistic view, there is no problem as to why God would not intervene in the course of history or make revelations: He has. The problem I have with theistic views is primarily the content of the alleged revelations. (I will confine my remarks to the Bible, as my knowledge of other sacred texts is not very great.) Of course, if one is an inerrantist who also, for the most part, tries to interpret the Bible as literally as possible, one will run into problems concerning the various contradictions and historical inaccuracies which are to be found in it. Apart from claims of inerrancy, I don’t regard these features of the Bible as being too problematic. Natural science is not without its contradictions (although they are much less frequent than they are in the Bible); it is well known that two of our most well-confirmed theories, General Relativity and Quantum Mechanics, are inconsistent with each other. One or both must be false, in at least some of their details, but this does not give us any good reason to deny that science is our best, albeit imperfect, means of coming to know the physical universe, still less to reject science in general on the ground that its deliverances aren’t always true.
No, my main problem with the Bible is that in reading it (and especially in reading the Old Testament), one repeatedly comes across passages such as this:
(NIV)Exodus 21: 20:21: “If a man beats his male or female slave with a rod and the slave dies as a direct result, he must be punished, 21 but he is not to be punished if the slave gets up after a day or two, since the slave is his property.”
and this:
(NIV)Samuel 15: 2-3: “This is what the LORD Almighty says: 'I will punish the Amalekites for what they did to Israel when they waylaid them as they came up from Egypt. 3 Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy everything that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys.' ”
and this:
(NAB)Hosea 14:1: “Samaria shall expiate her guilt, for she has rebelled against her God. They shall fall by the sword, their little ones shall be dashed to pieces, their expectant mothers shall be ripped open.”
The problem here is not that God has not revealed His will, but that His will as allegedly revealed in the Bible frequently turns out to be immoral.
Thus I face the following trilemma: Either Deism, Theism, or Atheism is true, although I find each of them problematic. I think Deism and Theism both have problems concerning moral issues, and that Theism in addition has problems concerning the historicity and consistency of its sacred texts. Atheism, on the other hand, does not have these problems, but is philosophically unsatisfying to me because it seems incapable of giving a satisfactory explanation of the existence, regularity, and relative life-friendliness of the physical universe. Suspending one’s judgment may be the only reasonable course of action in these circumstances, but when it comes to issues of such importance I would prefer come to a conclusion, as long as there is enough evidence to support it. If anyone thinks they can help me get clearer on these issues, I would greatly appreciate their assistance.
First, thanks to Doug and the other editors for the invitation! I'm happy to be here.
We're pleased to announce that Jason Brennan has accepted our invitation to become a contributor. Here's a brief biography, which I borrow from his web site: "JASON BRENNAN (Ph.D., 2007, University of Arizona) is Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Research, at Brown University, and a member of the Political Theory Project, an interdisciplinary research center at Brown. He specializes in metaethics, normative ethics, and political philosophy. His current research is on voting ethics, and he is developing a new liberal, pluralistic theory of civic virtue that emphasizes the public value of private, non-political activity. Together with David Schmidtz, he is the author of A Brief History of Liberty, forthcoming from Blackwell in August 2009. His second book, The Ethics of Voting, is under contract with Princeton University Press." Please join me in welcoming Jason.
Over at http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2009/jun/05/heidegger-philosophy you'll find Simon Critchley offering an intro to Heidegger: which is worth a read. He is going to blog more on this - so may be worth a look...Thanks to everyone for sharing their intuitions about the cases in my previous post. Here I’m going to back up and say something about my interest in the cases. Among linguists, the canonical view about modal expressions like “might”, “may” and “must” is that they are quantifiers over possibilities where the domains of quantification are contextually restricted. The view is an extremely powerful one; if correct, it provides a simple, highly unified explanation of a wide variety of language use. Recently, the canon’s neat story has come under attack on two fronts, in its treatment of bare epistemic modals (BEMs) and bare normative modals (BNMs). (A bare modal statement is a modal statement that doesn’t contain a restrictor phrase like “in view of my evidence” or “in view of what the law requires”.) I’ve got a manuscript defending a general, flexible contextualist account of bare modal statements and an application of that account to BEMs. (Here: http://www.unl.edu/philosop/people/faculty/dowell/dowell.shtml) Now I’m working on defending an application of that account to BNMs. (NB: My apologies in advance; this post is both long and oversimplified.)
Personally I am an advocate of the idea that the universe is essentially a meaningless place, onto which we impose meaning. We create significance, we constitute it – we don’t find it. However, there is a dangerous ambiguity lurking in this brief description. I said that the universe is meaningless – the events in it are without significance – without us. But what does it mean to say that something is meaningless? To call something meaningless is not to leave it exactly as it was, it is to look at it in a certain way. It is to deny the existence of meaningful relationships between it and other things. This looks very much like giving meaning to it, like taking up an attitude towards it, like interpreting it. In other words, “meaningless” is itself a meaning that can be given to things. To say that something is meaningless is not to deny it meaning, it is to give it a meaning – albeit a rather empty one. Nihilism is simply one way of constituting the world, not a refusal to constitute the world at all.
This raises the question of what things are like then before we give them meanings. In a way the question cannot be properly answered. We cannot say that they have significant relationships to other things, because that is to say they have meaning intrinsically. But neither can we assert that they lack such relationships, because that is a significant fact on its own, which is also to say that they have meaning intrinsically (the meaning of being “meaningless”). Perhaps weak souls may simply give up at this point and conclude that on the basis of this dilemma that meanings of some kind must be intrinsic after all. The problem, however, stems not from the fact that meanings are really intrinsic, but that to describe something, to understand it, we have to take up an attitude towards it. In other words, if we think about it we can hardly help but give some meaning to it. The apparent contradiction arose then because we were trying to explain what a thing is like outside all attitudes towards it, while at the same time taking up such an attitude. What we are left with are things-in-themselves, noumena, beings-in-themselves. This are all labels for the unthinkable that sits outside, and in a sense “behind”, of the domain of meaning.
This is more of a terminological clarification than anything, the idea of the noumena has already been done to death by Kant. And besides, what can you say about things of which you cannot think? The interesting lesson is not that noumena pop up, but that meaninglessness is a kind of meaning. One immediate consequence of this is that there are two kinds of nihilists, where nihilists are characterized by the slogan “it’s all meaningless”. On one hand we have the hypocritical nihilist. The hypocritical nihilist goes around labeling things as meaningless without realizing that in doing so they are giving them meaning. Thus the hypocritical nihilist is constantly in the business of contradicting themselves. On the other hand we have the catatonic nihilist. The catatonic nihilist avoids self-contradiction by actually refusing to give things meanings, and the only way to do that is to refuse to interact with them. Thus the catatonic nihilist must curl into a ball and shut out the world.
This is why nihilism is an absurd position. Are there ways for the nihilist to be consistent? Yes. The nihilist could embrace the terminological clarification we have made here and run around saying “it’s all noumena”. But this would hardly be shocking, because the claim that noumena exist and in some way lie behind the world we experience in no way contradicts our ability to find meaning in the world. Or the nihilist may admit that they had something more traditional in mind when they made their claim. Perhaps they meant only to deny the existence of absolute meanings or divinely ordained meanings. But is there really anything shocking about that these days? We are well aware that most meanings, and most values, vary from culture to culture. We would hardly be shocked if we ran into a culture that thought gold was worthless, even though our culture values it highly.
If it is at all bothersome it must be because we are attached to some small set of meanings that we hold to be above this. Ethical values, perhaps, or the significance of life. But I would say that there is nothing contradictory about denying absolute meanings while still holding on to an absolutist system of ethics. In fact the absolutist must affirm this. From the absolutist perspective an ethical fact is not something that exists because we constitute it. Rightness and wrongness are independent of people and their opinions about rightness and wrongness. Thus, so conceived, rightness and wrongness are not a meaning. Rightness and wrongness are as much a fact as the hight of the desk or the weight of the lamp. They are something that belongs to the noumena; they are something that we give a meaning to. Just as we give a meaning to the weight of the lamp (heavy enough to serve as a paperweight) so too would we give meaning to ethical facts. Thus the absolutist position, if it is indeed correct, is in no way threatened by the denial of absolute meanings. Nor is the relativist for that matter.
Perhaps I have once again made a straw man out of the nihilist’s position. Can’t the nihilist simply accompany their denial of absolute meanings with the additional assertion that ethical values are meaning and not facts? Perhaps they could, and this would threaten the absolutist conception of ethics. However, it is also to beg the question against the absolutist, and thus isn’t much of an argument. We can borrow an argument from the Euthyphro here, and ask why we constitute something as good or bad, if ethical values are meanings we give things. It it an arbitrary choice, or do we constitute it as good because it is good? The second creates a paradox – if good is nothing but our constitution of something as good, then this is to say that we constitute it as good because we constitute it as good, which says nothing. Thus it must be the first – it is an arbitrary choice. But this is nothing more, and nothing less, than relativism. And relativism is the denial of absolutism. So to tell the absolutist that ethical values are meanings and not facts is simply to assert that absolutism is false. Which is not much of an argument against it. The absolutist’s position presupposes that ethical values are facts and not meanings that we assign.
This digression into ethics, while not helping the nihilist look like less of a fool, has touched upon an interesting question, namely how to decide what is a “fact” and thus part of the noumenon, and what is part of the meaning that we give to the noumenon. Given that we can’t conceive of noumena I would say that it is impossible to know the answer to this question; we can’t look at the noumena as they are in themselves and see what we find there. But this is philosophy, the fact of the matter isn’t our concern here. On the philosophical level we are still free to hypothesize about what is and isn’t a noumenal property, on the same basis which we do all philosophy, namely that some ways of looking at the world are better than others. In simpler terms: the world makes more sense if we conceive of some properties as belonging to the noumenal, regardless of what the noumena is “really” like. This is why I think we can describe the size and mass of an object as “facts”, as properties that are what they are independent of us. It’s not that these properties couldn’t be understood as something we are projecting onto the world – they certainly could. We could point out that length is only something that comes into existence for us through our interactions with the world and through our interpretations of our experiences. This is why things shrank as we grew up, although since we are invested in the idea that length is an objective fact we describe that experience as the size of objects seeming to shrink.
But isn’t it absurd to say that length is merely a meaning that we impose on the world, and not a fact? It certainly seems absurd to me. The question is why. What’s so wrong about taking length to be something imposed on the world when it is perfectly acceptable to say it about the aesthetic value of the same item? One distinguishing feature is that we accept that judgments about aesthetic value can vary without indicating that some of them are in error, but we don’t say the same about length. If someone disagrees with us that the ruler is longer than the pencil after we place them side by side we conclude that their vision must be distorted, or that they have misunderstood the word. But if they disagree with our judgment that the pencil is more beautiful than the ruler we shake our heads and accept that they just see things differently than us.
The point is that we take uniformity concerning judgments about length very seriously, and judgments about beauty less so. A lot can hang on getting length “right”. We desire to communicate accurately and clearly about length, and we can only do that if length isn’t up for grabs. Much less hangs on beauty, and so it simply doesn’t pay to worry about having a single aesthetic standard. But I can imagine a situation where things are reversed. Imagine a culture with only a very primitive level of technology. Because they don’t have much in the way of technology they have no need for precise measurements. Indeed they don’t even have words for length specifically. Instead they have words for vaguely defined shapes each of which has a characteristic general size. In this culture there are valid disagreements about whether the ruler is “longer” than the pencil. One person might group the pencil under “A” and the ruler under “B”, which is characteristically larger. But another might classify the pencil under “C”, which is characteristically larger than “B”. Because these notions are vaguely defined, and they accept that there is no “right” way to classify shapes, both answers are equally valid. But, on the other hand, certain aesthetic values might play a large role in their lives. So large that they have developed a complicated numerical system for measuring beauty in its many different forms. They consider it to be an objective matter of fact that the ruler is 5.6 units in the R-h axis, while the pencil is only 3 units in the G-m axis. Thus the ruler has objectively greater aesthetic value than the pencil. If we disagreed with them about this they would conclude that somehow our perceptions were in error or that we didn’t properly understand what beauty means. Thus for them aesthetic value is properly placed in the noumena while length/size/shape is merely an interpretation of the world.
Now it is easy to object to this example by saying that,as I have described them, these people aren’t talking about length and beauty; the words they use simply don’t mean the same thing, so there can be no comparison. And that the words they use to describe shapes do not capture facts, as we take judgments about length to, thus says nothing about whether those judgments actually capture facts. This is a valid criticism. The reason I gave the example I did was because we are so set in our ways that we simply can’t conceive of using “length” in a way that isn’t factual. Thus I described a language that used non-factual shape words to describe something we normally think is factual, namely shape and size, to make plausible the possibility that the same could hold for length, that there might be ways of using length words and length concepts that isn’t factual either. At best this is an illustration, not an argument – and I’m perfectly happy with that because of my metaphilosophical commitments.
Let me finally get back to the point. The point of this lengthy digression is to show that what we choose to see as a noumenal property, and what we decide isn’t a noumenal property, depends on what we, collectively, consider important to communicate about in a clear, unambiguous, standardized, and objective way. We put length, charge, mass, etc into the noumena because they are part of our scientific and technological apparatus where all of the elements on the list are extremely important. It doesn’t matter if they are “really” – whatever that could possibly mean in this context – meanings projected out onto the world, so long as we are all projecting the same ones. Since beauty is not part of this or some similar apparatus we are free to leave it up for grabs.
So now let me tie this back into ethics and hopefully get some closure on this wandering mess. As I mentioned earlier, whether absolutism in ethics make sense under this worldview (where we project meanings onto a meaningless world) depends on whether right and wrong are facts – part of the substratum for interpretation, the noumena – or whether they are meanings. And that, if the second part of this piece is on the right track, depends on whether clarity, unambiguity, standardization and objectivity are things we want ethics to display. Whether they are things we need ethics to display. Obviously that is a philosophical argument in its own right. But I think the answer is yes; given what we do with ethics those features are features it needs to have, and thus we make better sense of the world we are in by placing ethical facts along with length and mass in the noumena (and let us leave questions of whether they reduce to some of those other properties to philosophers with more time on their hands).
Posted in Ethics, Metaphysics
John Holbo and Belle Waring, who many of you will know from Crooked Timber and elsewhere, have a new book up in PDF format.
The book contains translations of three Platonic dialogues, detailed commentaries on each of them, and illustrations! John has been using versions of it for teaching purposes for several years, and the book looks like it could be very useful for teaching (and research!) purposes.