So you want to be an analytic philosopher...

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/7635213/

Enjoy!

Primordial Assumptions and Non-Falsifiable Objections

Greetings,

It is common to make several assumptions when discussing philosophical matters-- whether one's interest is ontological, epistemological, formally logical, or some other field, primordial assumptions are a key underlying element. These assumptions are fundamental to our experience of the world, and thus tend not to be challenged further unless they are the specific matter of inquiry, because to do so would drastically shift the inquiry and possibly send a skeptic down a "rabbit hole" (as I call them) where an unceasing flurry of questions, each causing another question, that result in a completely unproductive endeavor with all participants exhausted and discouraged. Examples I have seen fellow discussants perform in conversations include challenging the law of noncontradiction, denying the legitimacy of free will, and proposing that everything "is a dream" while discussing other topics. It is, of course, completely legitimate to discuss these issues when they are the focus or topic of conversation. However, when one discusses an argument for the existence of God or the nature of animal ethics, challenging a core assumption by claiming that everything is just a dream seems both counterproductive and, perhaps, ad hoc, as the claims tend not to be considered legitimate outside of the specific conversation. I would pay money to see what would happen if you commit perjury by stating that you didn't see a crime, and later deny that you committed perjury by asserting that the law of noncontradiction is illegitimate.

On the other hand, we want our arguments to be falsifiable, and thus to be able to deal with objections. If I argue that humans do not have ethical obligations to animals because animals do not have free will, but I imply that humans do have ethical obligations to each other (because they have free will), it seems relevant to bring the question of fatalism into the picture. And yet, here we seem to have a quandary: if free will does not exist, we cannot concede the argument as being valid or invalid on the basis of the validity of the argument (rather, one was compelled to evaluate the argument in the matter one evaluated it, regardless of the ontological validity of the argument). As such, we lose our capacity to evaluate the argument. It would seem that the individual who challenges free will thus cannot meet the standard of falsifiability-- their argument cannot be falsified if there is no free will, because there is no one to falsify it. However, the fatalism objection seems both coherent and relevant. A topic can become controversial when it is not falsifiable; how much more difficult a topic becomes when one of its most coherent objections is not falsifiable!

What tactic should we take when we a legitimate topic has a non-falsifiable objection thrust at it? Do we deny the legitimacy of the objection, or treat it with all seriousness? Do we disregard it as sophistry, or do we attempt to account for it? It's a topic of both practical and theoretical interest to me, and I look forward to your feedback.

EDIT: On a completely unrelated note, here's a rather disturbing document you should probably see, about one of our favorite meeting locations...
http://ga.state.gegov.com/_templates/87/Food/_report_full.cfm?fsimID=1441174&domainID=87&rtype=food

On Communication and Definitions

In the comments of the post called, "Philosophy of Religion" and "Theology": What's the Difference?, r.j.marvin and I have been having an interesting conversation on communication. A concern was expressed: when individuals engage in dialogue, can they rationally discuss topics where the definitions of major points of contention are unclear? For example, assume that an atheist, a Calvinist, and a Muslim were engaged in a dialogue about God. The atheist remarks that the idea of God is internally contradictory, due to the nature of omnipotence and omni-benevolence. The Calvinist remarks that God has mysteries that cannot be explained, such as the nature of the trinity, but is not internally contradictory. The Muslim remarks that the idea of God is not internally contradictory and, while mysterious, has no apparent contradictions. It seems like all three of these discussants have different definitions of God. Can they, thus, rationally discuss the topic?

First, I will argue why they can. Second, I will defend against reasons why they allegedly could not by addressing the initial quandary.

If it were true that individuals can maintain distinct definitions of words without the possibility of harmonization, definitions would be meaningless and devoid of substance, because they would not have any references. Imagine if I defined "Quarorglewoggle" as "Gltheltic-giborglewoggle". If you asked me to define "Gltheltic-jiborglejiggle", I would continue using nonsense words with no real-world references, and would eventually come back to "Quarorglewoggle". We would thus not be able to have any legitimate knowledge of what is being communicated. In other words, if the skeptical concern is legitimate, we would not have legitimate understanding of the references of others' words. Since we do have legitimate understanding of the references of others' words (given that you are reading this), it is not the case that the skeptical concern is true (and, thus, the skeptical concern is false), at least about some words.

"Some words", however, is very different from "all words" (there's a puzzle for you). Could there exist a word that, through the method I outlined above, can be circularly defined in nonsensical terms? Yes-- consider "quarorglewoggle". Here's my question: we have the word "quarorglewoggle". Is there actually a reference of the word? In other words, we can imagine "quarorglewoggle" (the word); can the speaker imagine quarorglewoggle (the reference of the word)? If not, they are either deceiving their fellow discussant (but we're assuming that they're acting in good faith, so this isn't an issue), or there is actually something that the word refers to. There exist many properties that, as we have already established, are not nonsensical (in that they can be meaningfully defined). Each of these properties either do or do not relate to the definition of the word. For example, if I defined the "best flavor of icecream" as "that particular taste of ice cream that is most pleasing to the taster", the property of being "Cherry-Vanilla" does not relate to the definition of the word-- merely the instantiation (the carrying-out) of the definition.

Back to our initial quandary. If a Calvinist claims that the definition of God, via the Trinity, is mysterious but not contradictory, we should tell him/her that they are mistaken. The Trinity is no more a part of the definition of God than Cherry-Vanilla is part of the definition of the best flavor of ice-cream; it's part of the instantiation. The Muslim's claim is coherent. The Atheist's claim, that the definition of God entails a contradiction (omni-benevolence and omnipotence) sets us up for a great topic that could be discussed, but makes the same mistake as a Calvinist. The Greek gods were certainly not omnibenevolent, nor were they omnipotent, and yet they are still referred to as gods. The Atheist concern is with a specific instantiation of the definition of God, not with the definition of God itself.

In conclusion, we must be careful when we distinguish between definitions and instantiations of definitions. There are no true contradictions in reality (assertion on my part, feel free to challenge it), and thus no definition will be contradictory. Instantiations of definitions, however, may be. The definition of "contradiction" is not contradictory, but all instantiations of "contradictions" are, necessarily, contradictory.

Make sense? Share your thoughts, comments, and arguments below. I look forward to your feedback!

"Philosophy of Religion" and "Theology": What's the Difference?

Greetings,

Your experience might differ, but I find that those with a passion for philosophy (including the philosophy of religion) tend not to share a passion for theology, and vice versa. This has sparked a question in my mind: what is the difference between "philosophy of religion" and "theology"? In this post, propose a theory that hopefully gives us a satisfactory answer. I propose that, in order to understand the difference between "philosophy of religion" and "theology", you ought to accept the following:

1. "Philosophy of Religion" and "Theology" both refer to logically consistent inquiries, which usually take the form of arguments.

2. The subject of the inquiries of both "Philosophy of Religion" and "Theology" is the same: divinity. This is, presumably, a subset of the supernatural.

3. As the subject of both inquiries is the same, the differentiating factor must lie in the form of the inquiry itself.

4. Inquiries can only prove the veracity of their conclusions if the negation of the conclusion yields a contradiction.

5. The only truths philosophy has available are those which are tautologically true-- that is, true by nature of their logical form. The proposition, (a) or [not (a)], is true by nature of its form. Yes, this seems to entail classical logic, although the truth is that it need not. Roll with me, here.

6. Theology has all philosophical truths available to it (that is, theology does not embrace contradictory claims).

7. The truthfulness of premises in a philosophical argument can only be evaluated in terms of their internal/external logical consistency.

8. Here's where the difference lies: Theological claims can also form inquiries where the truthfulness of a premise is not determined simply by logical consistency.

By now, you're saying... "Zach, this is too much. Break it down for me". To quote Dale Cooper... "Okay."

1. All arguments that are sound in the philosophy of religion are sound in theology.
2. Not all arguments that are sound in theology are sound in the philosophy of religion.

Example of a Philosophical Argument
1. Either God exists or he does not.
2. If God exists in possibility, he exists in necessity.
3. It's possible that God exists.
4. Thus, God exists necessarily.

This argument may not be sound, but it can be understood and evaluated in philosophical terms. An individual might critique the second or third premise, but his critique would be grounded in logic.

Example of a Theological Argument
1. Either humans are predestined or they are to be held responsible.
2. God holds humans responsible.
3. God does what he ought to do.
4. Thus, humans are not predestined.

Philosophically, this is not an interesting argument. Premises 2 and 3 are determined to be true or false depending on adherence to religious principles, not logical necessity. However, this argument can be converted into a philosophical argument...

Example of a Philosophical Argument
1, Either humans are predestined or they are to be held responsible
2. Thus, if [God exists] and [God holds humans responsible] and [God does what he ought to do], then humans are not predestined.

This is actually philosophically interesting-- it doesn't presuppose the existence of God, but is concerned with logical entailment if he does exist (and other premises follow).

In conclusion, all truths determined through the philosophy of religion are true according to theological inquiry as well, as theology has all the tools of philosophy of religion available. However, not all truths revealed by theological inquiries are true in accordance with the philosophy of religion. It may be possible to convert these to philosophical claims, but the inquiry loses some of its impact.

Thoughts/comments/suggestions/criticisms will be much appreciated!

Stuck with Virtue Conference

Thursday, November 4 and Friday, November 5 Berry will host the first of a three-part conference series entitled “Stuck with Virtue.” This initial conference will include 7 distinct presentations, featuring over two dozen of the country’s leading experts in the fields of philosophy, political science, biology, genetics, sociology, and theology.

ALL 7 PRESENTATIONS ARE CE CREDIT APPROVED!!

Working from the premise that human beings are by nature stuck with virtue, the conference series broadly seeks to identify the scholarly, educational, and civic framework in which an intellectually serious and humanly satisfying new science of virtue could reasonably hope to unfold and develop. To a great degree, our contemporary ideas about the grounds and substance of human virtue can be traced back to the thought of three modern thinkers: Rene Descartes, John Locke, and Charles Darwin. The conference series thus incorporates each of their contributions in light of the contemporary body of knowledge we have gained from recent work in the sciences, philosophy, and theology, with presentations from the experts leading the work and discussions today. Accordingly, the Stuck with Virtue Conference Series, integrating the best thought of the past and the present, directly responds to one of the enduring challenges of the virtuous life itself, namely, the need to understand the relation between who we are, what we have been given, and the concrete circumstances in which we presently find ourselves.

Visit www.stuckwithvirtue.com for more information.

Conference Schedule:

Thursday, November 4, 2010
11:00 Lecture (Evans Auditorium): On Descartes
(Dr. Papazian will be a respondent!)
2:00 Panel (Evans Auditorium): Walker Percy on Science and the Soul
4:00 Lecture (Evans Auditorium): On Darwin
**7:00 Lecture (Ford Dining Hall): On Locke (with dinner)

Friday, November 5, 2010
9:00 Panel (Evans Auditorium): Being More Cartesian than Descartes
10:30 Panel (Evans Auditorium): Tom Wolfe, Technology, and Greatness
**12:30 Lecture (Krannert Ballroom): On Science, Virtue, and the Birth of Modernity (with lunch)

**Please contact me directly for information about obtaining an invitation to either or both of these lectures! It would be great if you all can come to all of these events, but if you haven't signed up with Dr. Lawler for the two lectures with food yet, let me know so that I can tell him to add you!!

Challenges for Locke's Idea of Property Rights

Greetings,

In John Locke's Second Treatise, he argues for a certain conception of property rights and ethical ownership. You can read a relevant chapter of his work by clicking here. While there are several strong reasons to accept what Locke proposes, those who would do so ought to be able to deal with a few issues that may generate tension. That's not to say that these issues are insurmountable, per se, but rather than a coherent Lockean ought to be able to respond to them. I will try to mention a few possible issues below. Feel free to argue for your position or simply list your thoughts in the comments.

1. Assume that a corporation, Acme Co., has an employee, Moriarty, who is hired to cut down a tree that would potentially be in the way of the anvil plant that they are planning to construct. This land has never been claimed, and no one contests Moriarty's-- or, by extension, Acme's-- presence. Moriarty cuts down the wood. Per Locke, who owns the wood? Is Locke right?

2. Assume that Acme has entered into the music business. They hire a musician, Moriarty II, to produce music for them. A college student, Jack Sherman, downloads this music without the consent of Acme-- although, with the consent of Moriarty II. Per Locke, did Jack steal Acme's intellectual property? Did he steal Moriarty II's intellectual property? Is there such thing as intellectual property? Is Locke right?

3. Assume that Acme has generated a computer that strings together every possible combination of musical notes and lyrics-- and also strings together every possible combination of sequences of musical notes and lyrics, up to 45 minutes in length. It has an entire continent filled with speakers, stacked high to the sky, and each speaker plays a combination. Per Locke, does Acme thus own every song up to 45 minutes in length that had not been created before the computer did its work?

4. Assume that Acme has created biological life-- and it looks like a human, has the genetic composition of a human, and seems to age like a human. It was not contested that Acme owned the base materials it generated the biological lifeform, which it calls Moriarty IV, from. Per Locke, does it own that human? Is Locke right?

5. Assume that, while on the job, an employee, Moriarty V, dies. Acme immediately uses his body for lunchroom cafeteria meat. His relatives protest. Per Locke, did Acme have the right to Moriarty's body? Is Locke right?

Seven Motivations for Philosophizing

Greetings,

I suspect that there are a vast multitude of reasons for the study and/or practice of philosophy. I thought it would be interesting to survey a few of the different approaches. In the comments, feel free to address any/all you would care to, as well as suggest additional motivations that I may have missed.

1. Edification
Those whose motivation is edification believe that philosophy can provide a sort of sustenance, whether for the mind or soul. They pursue it in hopes of an upbuilding, a strengthening, and/or and endowing that stems from their studies. An example of one who believes philosophy to be edifiying is Kierkegaard (who argued that Hegel, for example, was an excellent professor of philosophy but a poor philosopher, because there was no edification through his system).

2. To Discover Truth
Those whose motivation is to discover truth believe that, to quote Muldur from the X-Files (rock on), "the truth is out there". Whether metaphysics or ontology, they believe that arguments can-- in truth-- be sound, as opposed to merely valid, for there are concrete propositions that have a definite truth-value. It is possible to pursue edification but not truth, as I would argue that Nietzsche did. It is possible to pursue truth but not edification, as I believe Hegel did. An example of one who pursued philosophy to study truth is Hegel.

3. To affect policy/habits, and/or to better society.
Those whose motivation is to affect policy/habits, and/or to better society, believe that philosophical study and work can have tangible benefits. They believe that people can be served, and tangible, positive results brought forth, from such pursuits. It is possible to have this motivation but not pursue edification, such as those who disavow the soul but argue that agents can still be held accountable for their actions. Aristotle is an example of a philosophy with this motivation, and his primary concern was to affect social ethics through habituation.

4. To create "truth".
Those whose motivation is to create truth believe that "truthfulness" is intrinsically tied to perception, and one can actually modify the truthfulness of a statement by adjusting the perception of that statement. According to those who pursue philosophy to create "truth", humans define what does and does not have value and what that value/those values is/are. I believe that Foucault and Derrida are examples of philosophers with this motivation, although I only have a basic knowledge of them both.

5. Because it is interesting.
Those whose motivation is to study systems believe that philosophy is worth pursuing because it is interesting, regardless of whether or not it is edifying, a method of revealing truth, or et cetera. Some may pursue systematism, such as analytical logicians, while others may abstractly consider broad metaphysical issues. I might include Lewis Carroll in this category, although I'm sure that will be controversial (both his inclusion as a philosopher and the claim about his primary motivation).

6. To earn income.
Haha... I kid!

Seriously, though, there is money to be made via philosophy. Ranging from research into formal logic yielding jobs in IT to professorship, it's not a bad way to make a living. That being said, it's probably not the most efficient method of earning an income, but it could certainly be a secondary method. Unless you're someone like Saul Kripke, in which case you could probably focus on this and do quite well for yourself.

7. To have something to do.
Honestly, I believe that some people engage in philosophy because it keeps them from being bored. This does not mean that they find it interesting, but it can be used as a tool to abstract themselves away from reality and have one more habit to get through life. Call me crazy, but I have a secret (well, secret no more) hunch that Wittgenstein might fall into this camp. Feel free to reject that association, if you see fit.

An [Ontological?] Argument for Free Will

Greetings,

I'm going to present to you an argument that human beings have free will. I have not seen this argument composed elsewhere, but if you uncover a similar argument from another source, I'd love to hear about it.

Here's how it will work. There are three "sets" of arguments. The first set has 5 premises, and should yield "C1"-- conclusion 1. The second set has 3 premises, and shoudl yielf "C2"-- conclusion 2. C1 and C2 should form an additional argument to yield C3. If you think my argument is wrong, it would be great for you to either attack one of the premises or argue that one of the conclusions do not follow from its respective premises. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

SET 1:
1. Either human beings can freely will or they cannot freely will.
2. If human beings cannot freely will, they either cannot will or they can will without freedom.
3. Human beings can will.
4. If a human being can freely will, we say that such a human being has "free will".
5. If a human being cannot will with freedom, we say that the human being is subject to "determinism".
C1: THUS, human beings either have free will or they are subject to determinism.

SET 2:
1. If human beings are subject to determinism, they perform the actions they perform but do not do so freely.
2. If one performs an action but does not do so freely, they do so because they were compelled.
3. If an entity is compelled to perform the action of evaluating an argument, they did so because they were compelled, regardless of beliefs about the validity of the argument.
C2: THUS, if an entity evaluates this argument to establish its validity, one was not compelled.

SET 3:
C1. Human beings either have free will or they are subject to determinism.
C2. If an entity evaluates this argument to establish its validity, one was not compelled.
C3: THUS, if an entity evaluates this argument to establish its validity, it did so with free will.

So, now we have C3: "If an entity evaluates this argument to establish its validity, it did so with free will". It's a conditional, and I'm fine with that. Let me ask you: did you evaluate my arguments to determine their validity? According to C3, if you cannot, you cannot reject arguments for free will. If you can, you have free will.

What are your thoughts? Is there a problem? Is it convincing, or do you find it lacking in some regard?

Naming Infinity

That's the title of a book by Loren Graham and Jean-Michel Kantor that I finished reading recently. It may be one of the most unusual books I've read, as it focuses on two topics--the mathematics of the infinite and heresy in the Eastern Orthodox Church--that are not typically associated with each other. The story is fascinating and covers the origins of set theory and its early development at the start of the 20th century by French mathematicians. According to the authors, the tendency in France toward positivism and Cartesianism contributed to a bias among French mathematicians against theories that could not be connected to physics. Accordingly, French mathematicians became reluctant to pursue the study of the transfinite. Russia, with its mystical orientation, and particularly what became the Moscow School of Mathematics were a more fertile ground for research in this area. Especially interesting is the role played by Pavel Florensky, a Russian Orthodox monk and mathematician. Florensky represents the link between the Moscow mathematicians, several of them faithful churchgoers, and an obscure sect, the Name Worshippers, within the Russian church. While the authors do not get into the details of the theology of the Name Worshippers, it becomes clear that their beliefs had an effect on the mathematical work of Florensky and perhaps the other Moscow mathematicians. After the revolution and with the growing oppression of the Soviet regime, the overt Christianity that informed these mathematicians' outlooks had to go underground. The exception was the fearless Florensky, who continued to wear his clerical robe even in the presence of leading communists like Trotsky. Florensky ended up in prison camps where he was tortured and eventually killed. The stories and personal travails of many of the other mathematicians are also sad and poignant. But in the midst of totalitarianism, a spirit of faith and mysticism continued to color the Moscow school even in the darkest periods.

The authors are right to conclude modestly that religion does not change mathematics. A Christian mathematician should come to the same conclusions as a positivist mathematician. But the spiritual and philosophical spirit that characterizes a culture can allow ideas to develop that may otherwise be neglected or overlooked. It seems that in this case, at least, it was religion rather than rationalism that proved a more fertile ground for the growth of scientific ideas.

Traversing the Maze of Free Will

Arete's Editor-in-Chief, Andrea Lowry, sent me a link to an article by professor Galen Strawson of Reading University. Written for the New York Times, the article can be read by clicking here. It argues that one cannot be "ultimately responsible" for what one does, and that any actions will be "determined... by your genetic inheritance and previous experience." Bold statements, to be sure. He offers two arguments, the latter "expanded" from the former. Let's look at the former first:

(1) You do what you do — in the circumstances in which you find yourself—because of the way you then are.

(2) So if you’re going to be ultimately responsible for what you do, you’re going to have to be ultimately responsible for the way you are — at least in certain mental respects.

(3) But you can’t be ultimately responsible for the way you are in any respect at all.

(4) So you can’t be ultimately responsible for what you do.

Is his argument sound? It seems to have problems-- for example, the first premise begs the question, because it assumes that you do what you do because of "the way you are", which implicitly denies any sort of volition-- and responsibility, presumably, requires volition. I don't want to spend too much time on this argument, because Strawson seems to desire us to consider it in light of his expanded argument:

(a) It’s undeniable that the way you are initially is a result of your genetic inheritance and early experience.

(b) It’s undeniable that these are things for which you can’t be held to be in any way responsible (morally or otherwise).

(c) But you can’t at any later stage of life hope to acquire true or ultimate moral responsibility for the way you are by trying to change the way you already are as a result of genetic inheritance and previous experience.

(d) Why not? Because both the particular ways in which you try to change yourself, and the amount of success you have when trying to change yourself, will be determined by how you already are as a result of your genetic inheritance and previous experience.

(e) And any further changes that you may become able to bring about after you have brought about certain initial changes will in turn be determined, via the initial changes, by your genetic inheritance and previous experience.

I believe that Strawson errs in several of his premises. First, premise (a)-- that it is "undeniable that the way you are initially is a result of your genetic inheritance and early experience"-- is actually contradictory. The way you are initially (meaning, at the earliest moment of personhood) cannot result from earlier experience, which he said it does. Strawson might wish to make the conjunction apply only to post-initial status, but the premise loses its power, and it is clearly false that a person is how they are initially as a result of genetic inheritance (for example, because two individuals with the same genetic inheritance might not act the same way). The premise fails.

Premise (d) asserts that "both the particular ways in which you try to change yourself, and the amount of success you have when trying to change yourself, will be determined by how you already are as a result of your genetic inheritance and previous experience", but this to a large degree what needs to be proved. Strawson has constructed an elaborate format to beg the question, which is hidden behind a series of arguments whose foundation is problematic (the first premise). Of course, if Strawson had his way, his mistake would be seen as a result of experience and genetic inheritance. Personally, though, I think he should have known better.

Back to Business

Monday August 23rd is the start of classes again at Berry College. We've been dormant on the blog for the summer, but with the beginning of the new semester it's time to get back to business.

One debt that I have to discharge now is to note the passing since my last post of one of my intellectual heroes, the great Martin Gardner (1914-2010). It is hard to describe the man in one word, but perhaps "polymath" is most appropriate. I wrote a post on his 95th birthday and discussed the influence that he had on me. A University of Chicago philosophy major, Gardner became the mathematics columnist for Scientific American and wrote prolifically on topics that included but also reached far beyond science, math, and philosophy. I especially appreciated his efforts to expose the frauds who founded and promoted various pseudo-scientific movements. Gardner was a much needed defender of reason and careful thinking. All should be grateful for his long and productive life.

Coffee Confessions

Kind readers,

If you’ll allow, let me divulge a tad about my life. No, I will not bore you with some trivial private gossip or pent up angst and frustration about the woes of life or anything of that sort, but I would like to call your attention and get your reactions to a problem I’m dealing with: I can barely type the words, but I, regrettably, have lost my taste for coffee, and it is a sad, cold world without the brew.

This revelation will probably be better placed within the proper context. I was bred to drink this stuff. My parents are big coffee drinkers, and I was literally raised with the aroma of coffee abundant in the air and loved that smell, I’ve been told, as a very young child and have never stopped. In fact, at age four I pestered my parents so much one fateful day for a taste of their coffee that they allowed me to have a sip, thinking that, like a normal child, I would be utterly repulsed by the bitter taste (there’s never any added sugar or sweeteners in our coffee!) and give up on the drink till I got older. Well, I was not a very normal child. (Insert your own joke here about me still not being normal if you like!) To their surprise, or maybe dismay, I loved the coffee, and they were then somewhat forced to keep allowing me to have sips every now and then. When visiting either friends of my parents or my own friends’ parents as an elementary-aged child, I would often shock adults who’d ask what beverage I’d like (them expecting me to say Coke or juice) with the reply of coffee, and they’d undoubtedly proceed to question the kind of parents I had! And so began my love affair with the, to me, ineffably tasty drink.

You see, coffee for me was not about a caffeine-induced rush; in fact, it was no sort of stimulant at all, as it normally is for people. Instead of a jilting morning wake-up, coffee affected me in the reverse fashion: actually making me quite relaxed and much more focused, which is very useful as a student! But something terrible has happened! About three and a half weeks ago until this present day, my beloved coffee has not loved me back in return. It does not give those same fulfilling feelings nor taste as appealing, and the focus it once provided is gone, along with my longing for it.

I do not want the coffee any longer, but I want to want it.

In philosophy, this is known as a second-order desire: the desire to desire. This is the same feeling as the self-loathing drug addict who wants to refrain from his habit but cannot, or the unwilling antisocial person who desires to want companionship but does not actually posses that want – simply, their will is to want something other than that which they really want. A couple terms used above to describe these scenarios, “unwilling” and “the will,” are interesting here. What is it that is doing the willing and unwilling? What part of you wants and what doesn’t want?

For me, it is my mind that wants, but my body that does not. A certain event in my brain may be altered in some way to have a different effect, causing this lack of desire. But what was it that was doing the willing in the first place? Not, apparently, my mind or will. I had this craving that was brought on by something I didn’t will (though it was a bodily reaction of mine), and so it was out of my control and brought upon me. But this was far from a negative thing. Apart from just the satiation of the particular thirst, satisfying a longing of any sort, even an imposed craving, can be a great pleasure in and of itself. But now I’ve been “freed” from this craving, and yet am unsatisfied! Some will say that this is crazy: you had this thirst that you did not will and now that you’re liberated from it, you want it again? But it was not I, really, who willed the removal of the craving – again, something happened apart from my own willing to put me in this situation! I am no more free now if I did not will the abrupt cessation in the same way that I did not will the original craving.

It is strange to talk in this fashion for it is truly me – my will, maybe my mind? – who is doing the desiring and the desiring of the desire, but it is also me – my body, either in stomach or just in the brain – who is controlling it all. Perhaps willpower is not as powerful as we’d like. It seems odd that I at the same time both want and don’t want (and want to want and don’t want to want, ad infinitum), but that is the nature of the situation. As much fulfillment there is (or, was) from the coffee for what it did for me, and also the satisfying of the craving itself, am I yet irrational in my second-order desire? Ought I crave the craving, or be content coffee-need-less?

Hail to the Chief (A Charge to Philosophers)

Officer elections were held last night, and I am pleased to say that the club is left in very capable hands; this is one of the first years where I feel that every officer is fully capable, responsible, and has a passion for what we do. Congratulations to those elected! Even though it's time for me to retire from my position as Editor-in-Chief (due in no small part to my upcoming graduation), I might continue to post on occasion as a Guest Writer; we shall see what happens.

At any rate, Andrea Lowry, Arete's new Editor-in-Chief, has been a poster for quite some time, and will do a great job running the blog. I'm sure that she will handle things very well, continue to innovate, and perhaps even recruit some new writers and commenters into the mix. Hopefully some of the new officers will even consider posting a bit!

So, thanks for reading my posts throughout the months. I've come a long way from those first few posts, and even managed to create a few that I am genuinely proud of.

I would challenge you, dear reader, to be active! Take charge! Write something, post something, comment on something. Your investment bears a causal relationship to your return, and the responsibility you assume bears a direct correlation with your investment. If you're not active in the club, come check out a meeting! If you're not an officer, but have some ideas, talk to an officer and see if you can get something started! And, if you've been blessed with the opportunity to be an officer, make the most of it-- I can assure you that, if you work hard and maintain a passion for what you do, it can be one of the most rewarding experiences throughout your entire college experience.

I humbly say that I have been blessed with many opportunities, and for them I am grateful. However, I firmly believe that I have pursued them, as best I could, to the furthest ends possible, and I do believe that I have made a long-term impact on the club, its members, and even myself. I'm sad that my time as President has drawn to a close, but I am proud of how I used the time I was given. New officers, don't stand by the sidelines; act! Take control! Use this time creatively and forcefully, because it is incredible how quickly it goes. Philosophia Religioque-- now the Berry Philosophical Society-- is a club, but it has the potential to subjectively be much more if you live up to it. I would dare say that we have done things of importance, of significance, and, odd as this may sound for some, there is contained within the potential for edification, and for glory.

It has been a glorious year indeed!

Please note that, unless otherwise indicated by Andrea, this post is ineligible for the Arete contest.

Happy News

Some good news for philosophers!

Based on a recent study by psychologist Matthias Mehl, happier people tend to spend more time engaging in deep conversations and not very much on small talk. According to a New York Times article, Mehl proposes that the reason is two-fold: most of us enjoy social interaction and talking in general, and we also crave to find or unlock a sense of purpose or meaning in our lives. So by discussing with a partner questions like, “What does it all mean? Where did we come from? What is the best way to live a good life? Do I matter?” we satisfy a longing for connection with that other person, and also, in Mehl’s words, “manage to impose meaning on an otherwise pretty chaotic world.”

So it seems that perhaps you may be a happier person by discussing (or questioning) happiness itself –– or, in fact, its opposite: any “deep” topic will do. (This would make even the existentialists giddy in their angst!)

BBC: Pick and Choose Your "Fundamental Rights"!

The BBC recently commissioned an "international polling firm" called GlobeScan to determine various public opinions on the internet and internet access. There were 27,973 participants across 26 countries, a sizable amount of which (14,306) had internet access at the time of taking the poll. For the report as it was made available to the public, please click the following link, noting that it will bring up a PDF file:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/bsp/hi/pdfs/08_03_10_BBC_internet_poll.pdf

Of particular interest to me are the responses to the following proposition: "Access to the Internet Should Be a Fundamental Right of All People." 50% of respondents strongly agreed, 29% somewhat agreed, 9% somewhat disagreed, 6% strongly disagreed, and 6% did not know or did not respond.

The normative nature of this question-- "should", rather than "is", seems odd to me, particularly concerning what is commonly meant by "fundamental". The US Supreme Court, in Roe v Wade (410 US 113) defined a "Fundamental Right" as a right that is "implicit in the concept of ordered liberty" (see Section VIII for the source of the quote). Clearly, however, internet access did not exist at times when ordered liberty existed, and thus it is not implicit in the concept of ordered liberty. Even if it were the case, however, that internet access was a fundamental right (implicit in the concept of ordered liberty), I'm going to side with Kant and argue that "should" implies that it's possible that something may or may not be manifested. If I tell you that you should go to class, that implies the possibility of you not going to class. If a scientist states that a test should work, the implication is that the test might not work, given certain contingencies. I would not, however, state that the sum of two and two should be four; I would state that it is equivalent to four.

If this is correct, then one ought not (read: should not) claim that one should do something if that something is fundamental, because fundamental means implicit-- it is already contained within. If free speech is a fundamental human right, the question of whether or not it is one is moot. If internet access is implicit in the idea of ordered liberty, it is analytically contained within the idea-- even if one has not discovered it-- and there is no question of whether it should be. By analogy, one does not debate whether the sum of two and two ought to be equivalent to four; while one might debate whether the sum of two and two is equivalent to four, whether it ought to be is a moot question, because we are speaking analytically, in the context of a predetermined system. In the case of rights, the system is ordered liberty, according to the USSC. One might debate whether this system ought to be followed, but if one accepts the system, one by extension accepts that which is implicit in the system. Being implicitly contained follows from the system, and one cannot pick and choose what follows; if I choose the system of classical logic, I am stuck with [(not a) or (a)] being tautologically true. I can reject classical logic, but, if I do not, I cannot reject that which is implicitly contained, and thus the "should" question here is meaningless.

In conclusion, the pollsters ought to have asked if internet access is a fundamental right, not whether it should be. While it seems intellectually untenable to hold it as such, that sort of move seems far less problematic than the question of whether it should be one.

Philosophy: Rescuing Bad Theology

On occasion, the tools that philosophy provides can be useful outside its normal practices; it can be not only intellectually satisfying, but edifying and far-reaching. Such an occasion arose this Sunday when a pastor at a church I attend (who has a Ph.D., by the way) made a very controversial claim: that Jesus made two inconsistent claims. He asserted that the following were inconsistent:

1. Whoever is not against us is for us (Mark 9:40)
2. He who is not with me is against me (Matthew 12:30)

The entire sermon was preached off the premise that these two were inconsistent; however, it struck me as incorrect, so I got to work. Let's simplify these things down a bit...

Let's call, "gender-neutral he who is against us", A, and "gender-neutral he who is for us/with us" F. We can simplify these premises to:

1. Whoever is not A is F.
2. Whoever is not F is A.
3. Not F and A at the same time.

Number 3 is a hidden premise here (but a noncontroversial one)that one cannot be A and F at the same time. Before get into the nitty gritty of how these are consistent, let's do one last bout of simplification. Let's call "negation", "not", and etcetera ~, like so:

1. If ~A then F
2. If ~F then A
3. ~(A and F)

Make sense? Good. Now let's show how they're consistent. With Premise 1, there are two possibilities: ~A is false (therefore A, Premise 1a) or F is true (Premise 1b). With Premise 2, there are two possibilities: ~F is false (therefore F, Premise 2a) or A is true (Premise 2b). So, we have four possible combinations of true values:

4. A (Premise 1a) and F (Premise 2a)
5. F (Premise 1b) and F (Premise 2a)
6. A (Premise 1a) and A (Premise 2b)
7. F (Premise 1b) and A (Premise 2b)

We are left with 4, 5, and 6 as consistent interpretations, but we still have to apply the hidden third premise: ~(A ^ F). It states that A and F cannot be true at the same time-- so, in each of those premises, either A is false or F is false (since they both can't be true at the same time).

4. A, F, and either [~A, contradiction] or [~F, contradiction]
5. F, F, and either [~A] or [~F, contradiction]
6. A, A, and either [~A, contradiction] or [~F]
7. F, A, and either [~A, contradiction] or [~F, contradiction]

What are we left with?

5. A is false, F is true
6. A is true, F is false.

Both of those are consistent. Lo and behold-- it is not inconsistent to say, "he who is not with us is against us" and "he who is not against us is with us"! I'm afraid to say that the pastor, here, built his argument on sand, and it took neither rain nor flood nor wind for it to fall down. I didn't tell him about the claims being consistent, but I certainly thought about it. At any rate, did the logic look sound? Anything confusing or need clarification? Disagree with my argument-- whether I properly assigned notation and whatnot?

The Immorality of Commonsensical Marriage

(v1.3, with updates)

It's a return to Kierkegaard's Either/Or for this post, where we talk about marriage and pragmatism. For various and sundry caveats on my arguments concerning Kierkegaard's work, please check out my post here. Let me know if you need any clarification on source materials. It's going to be quite a challenge to consolidate about 85 pages of argument, but I'll do my best. Let's see how this works.

Let's assume you are married and I asked you: "why did you marry"? Kierkegaard's character, Judge William, argues-- quite well, I think-- that "it is always an insult to a girl to want to marry her for any other reason than that one loves her" (EOII 67). While he notes that there is "a multiplicity of altogether puny objectives, because they are not even laughable... for example, marrying for money, or out of jealousy, or because of the prospects, because there the prospect that she will soon die... I do not care to bring up all such things" (EOII, 80). However, he does explicitly address some more commonly given reasons.

~If you responded that you married "in order to contribute to the propagation of the human race", your response might be "both a very objective and a very natural reason", and yet it misses the point-- "such a marriage is just as unnatural as it is arbitrary" and there is no question that a man who marries a woman to "contribute to the propagation of the human race" has married for the wrong reasons (EOII 64).

~Judge William also argues it would be wrong to marry "to acquire a home" (EOII 70), to have people around so one is not bored and devoid of contact with others. If he "has become bored at home, has taken a trip abroad and become bored, has come again and is bored", he might long for marriage "for the sake of company" (ibid). Such a person "feels the emptiness of everything around him-- nobody is waiting for him when he is gone" (ibid). The Judge replies that "I have not married in order to have a home, but I have a home, and this is a great blessing" (EOII, 74). Such a person "always pleads that there is no one who is waiting for them, no one who welcomes them, etc.", but this reveals that "they actually have a home only when they think of being outside it" (EOII, 75)-- that is, one has encountered the "pain, sadness, and humiliation" or being "a stranger and alien in the world" (EOII, 77). Such a person "could not stand to see you wife... in dishabille [a state of debilitation], unless this costume were finery designed to please you" (EOII, 78), indicative of an underlying problem: "you will always be a stranger and an alien" (ibid). You would be regarded as "a welcome guest... you would be inexhaustible in attentiveness, inventive in all ways of delighting the family... it would be very lovely, would it not" (ibid). However, in the end, "no matter how proud you are, there is a humiliation here", because you would still be "alone in one's boat, alone with one's sorrow, alone with one's despair-- which one is cowardly enough to prefer to keep rather than submit to the pain of healing" (EOII, 77).

~Similarly, marriage for happiness or for sensuousness is problematic because it "seeks momentary satisfaction" (EOII, 20), and it causes one to think "that one can probably stand living together for some time, but it wants to keep an escape open if a happier choice comes along. It makes marriage into a civil arrangement; one needs only to inform the proper authority that this marriage is over and a new one has been contracted" (EOII, 22). This view of romantic love and marriage asserts, "I do not ask for so much, I am satisfied with less; far be it from me to demand that you go on loving me forever if you will just love me in the moment I desire it" (EOII, 21).

A person who "marries for this and that" reason is acting inappropriately; "commonsensical calculating" cannot determine whether two individuals ought to marry (EOII, 60). One might say that they have good intentions, but "the goodness of his [or her] objective [meaning, intention] is of no use, for the mistake is precisely that he had an objective" (EOII, 60). He asserts that "nothing else ever belongs to marriage but marriage's own 'why', which is infinite" (EOII, 58), for it is "sensuous but also spiritual, free but also necessary, absolute in itself and also within itself points beyond itself" (EOII, 57). Marriage's teleology (for the sake of simplicity, its destiny or goal) is in itself, internally.

What justifies, then, getting married, if not common sense rationality? Judge William (Kierkegaard's character, here) does not dispute the presence of many "hows"-- "how they are going to manage, how they are going to take care of the children" (EOII, 58) and etcetera. However, while he does not discredit these or downplay their importance, they are insufficient for justifying a marriage. He claims that "marriage can [justly] be undertaken with only one intention, whereby it is just as ethical as aesthetic, but this intention is immanent" (EOII, 66). The inwardness required by marital love has as its first principle" frankness, uprightness, openness on the largest scale possible", and "secretiveness here is its death" (EOII, 96). This is the first principle of love (ibid), and also the "life principle in marriage" (EOII, 106). A marriage is not justified by the "whats" of how well one can procreate, or be happy, or have a home. Rather, a marriage is justified for a man (and for his wife, if the appropriate pronouns are switched) when he says, "The primary question is not one of where I am going to find the money and at what percent but first and foremost is of my love, whether I have kept a pure and faithful covenant of love with her to whom I am united" (EOII, 113). Such a person "has the proper conception of who he is and what he can do, and only marriage gives the historical faithfulness that is every bit as beautiful as the knightly kind" (ibid). One who is in a justified marriage has an eternal love-- "the married man has not killed time but has rescued it and preserved it in eternity.... he solves the great riddle, to live in eternity and yet to hear the cabinet clock strike in such a way that its striking does not shorten but lengthens its eternity" (EOII, 126).

I want to close with a quote from the conclusion of the essay from which these sources are from-- "On the Aesthetic Validity of Marriage". He states, "Accept now, in well-prepared anticipation what is here offered to you as well tested. If you find it far too trivial to satisfy you, then see if it is not possible to prepare yourself better, see if you have not forgotten some precautionary measure" (EOII, 139). This topic is more difficult than romantic love to depict artistically or even through arguments, but "let your consolation be, as it is mine, that we are not to [merely] read about or listen to or look at what is the highest and the most beautiful in life, but are, if you please, to live it" (EOII, 126).

Some pre-SPC Thoughts on Value

Just to get the proverbial ball rolling, here is a little bit on the nature of “value” for your consideration. If you like this and totally agree, or hate it and want to argue, or if it even sparks the merest passing interest, I invite you, dear reader, to join Philosophia Religioque one week from now, next Thursday night, February 11 for the Student Philosophy Colloquium!
So just to be fun, I want to present something perhaps extreme here. Many may think that, if presented the questions “What is ‘value’? What makes something ‘valuable’?” an answer like, “I think the concept of value is purely subjective,” would be a little controversial to say, that most people really believe and put great stock in, say, the value of their savings account. That to say that it is just a figment of your imagination, and that money is just green paper, would be a novel concept –– maybe not for us educated folk, but the others out there, wouldn’t they have some qualm with the notion that all value is subjective? I do not believe that it is necessarily the case. I think there are not a large amount of people who truly believe otherwise. Most will work within the system in any case, but relatively few have deluded themselves into thinking the numbers comprising their brokerage account translate into “real,” objectively quantifiable value. In our long and glorified American tradition, individualism and liberty (and plurality) of thought and belief is nothing new to us. Personalization, distinctiveness, and independence is common to our very nature. It is not surprising then that we think that “value” is as subjective a notion as religion, truth, and beauty, etc. It is not surprising for one to consider that “value” is what I make of it, or what society makes of it. “Man is the measure of all things” and we can say what is valuable and how much; it is also common to hear something analogous to a quote from Hamlet: “There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.” There is nothing valuable but thinking makes it so; value is in the eye of the beholder. Opinions make up the value of an object–– it’s all subjective.
Well, I want to shy away from that, for I think it’s much more exciting to do something less common and widely accepted. Instead of going the “value is objective” route, however, I will argue that “value” is non-existent, and hopefully you’ll see how this is different from it’s being considered subjective. Saying the proposition that “value is purely subjective” is not enough; I would deny inherent value entirely. That phrase itself, “inherent value,” doesn’t, in my opinion, even make sense. Nothing is valuable in and of itself –– there is nothing intrinsic to something called “value” that would exist in the fabric or quintessence of the thing. If we think of everything as having a platonic form, what is essential to that form, what is its essence, has nothing to do with some quantifiable “value.” That is completely apart from an object, like the form of a bottle of water, or from a concept, like the form of justice. “Value” is an empty idea that doesn’t really refer to anything. It is not something revealed or recognized, because it is not there to begin with.
This is different than saying that value is subjective, that we assign a value to some thing, or person, or idea, or action based on context and circumstance, based on its scarcity or our wants or needs. When we’re thirsty and then drink some water, someone might say that the water was very “valuable” to me then, because I was thirsty and I needed it. And because it was valued that specific amount at that specific time, but will surely not be the same for someone who is not thirsty, or even to you after your thirst is satisfied, value must be subjective or relative. And indeed we could say that even people could have a sort of quantifiable value – You value your best friend more than a complete stranger. What you mean is that you value what they mean to you, what they do for you and your life, and how they’ve influenced you or provided for you. People can make us happy, make life a better place, and some, will mean more than others. Does that mean that, because your value is subjective to my feelings or proximity to you, that you, maybe my enemy, as a person actually have less value based on my perception, that your value has more to do with others than with you yourself?
Making “value” subjective is like putting everything on a scale or, better, on a number line, so that it is a continuous measurement that could be positive, negative, or zero. I could say that, to me, this apple is z amount, whereas the color blue is this, and playing a game of tennis is that. But I cannot conceive of things having this idea of “value,” so that even if z amount is zero, it still by some strange way “has” this strange thing called “value.” In what way does it “have” it? Value is instead better thought of as nonexistent and neutral, which is not to say a numerical zero. There is again no thing we call “value” in the essence of something; it is just used in such a way in our language as to give the appearance that all things in space and time, and including space and time (“time is money,” right?), “have” it and that we can assign it to objects, actions, and ideas, like some other adjective like “dark,” “big,” or “just.” It is used as to give the appearance of what is in reality nonexistent, but still, this is a useful illusion we use. We can make normative claims as to what should be valued, and to what extent. It may be a needed term for society to function expediently and well, within a single society itself or in relation to others.
If a car x is worth a cost y to me, we’re using the idea of “value” primarily in reference to a monetary number, but can keep in mind the worth of transportation or good feelings of independence and whatnot, too, and add that in the calculation. What does that ultimate price represent? Maybe a sum of cash. And what is that? I’m no economist, but I guess money is supposed to be representative of other, concrete precious things. And what are they? A bar of gold is so valued not because of its color or use as a paper weight, but for its scarcity on the earth. It is rare; and so is each individual person, so we say they’re “invaluable.” But let’s say we really bought into the idea that gold was very valuable. Well, just for a quaint example, for believers of the Christian faith, in heaven gold is the new asphalt, that’s what the streets are paved with. And you can ask Midas or Silas Marner (major cool points to you if you actually know that allusion) what the real “value” of gold is. It seems an endless series of “valuables” to quantify everything: from an object to a person’s opinion to dollar sign to an amount of gold or some other resource to… what?
There is, ultimately, nothing inherent in something that makes it valuable. The idea of “value” does not refer to anything in existence that is anything more than an appearance we assign to things, actions, ideas, and people in our language and thought. If I am in some other universe where I experience the essence of a thing, and I do not see it per say, so that it is not beautiful or ugly, and I do not have any sense of feeling, so that it is not pleasant or painful, there just is the essence of the object by itself without any other use or context for it, there would simple not be a “value” that I’d experience (or give it), because value does not exist. If you were to experience a tree, say, in its essential form, apart from your own senses, and I asked you, “What is the inherent darkness of the tree?” You couldn’t answer. So too do things lack some notion of “inherent value,” if I asked you the “value” of that tree, because it does not exist. There is neither darkness nor value to it. That sole essence of an object does not even have a “value” of zero, but no value whatsoever.
What do you think? If this has been at all enjoyable or thought-provoking, I invite you to let those thoughts marinate for the next week, and then come and join us for the SPC on Thursday, February 11. Hope to see you!

Be Good for Goodness’ Sake?

I’m sentenced to death. Let’s say it’s because of a terminal disease and there’s the certainty that I’ll suffer a miserable, agonizing, slow demise. I’ve done nothing great in my life. I won’t leave behind any piece of me except what others’ memories may tell; no great writings, inventions, ideas; no children or spouse whose lives I’ve touched. As I’m lying on my deathbed, with my final, piercing gasps of breath, my life might, as the cliché goes, “flash before my eyes.” Will I be comforted by the thoughts of what I’ve done, or be sorry for all I haven’t? My reputation means nothing to the “me” there is once I’m buried. There’s little condolence to think that, if I’ve been good enough, at least my funeral will be well-attended and some people might be sad for a while. On occasion, they’ll say they miss me. Maybe even think back to the good times we had, or, if I’d been an especially important figure, write about me. And so what? What is bitter-sweet nostalgia, or fame and glory, or anything, to me in the end?
When your body goes into the earth, and they speak of you as such, as your “remains,” what of you really remains –– is your “self” as dead as your flesh? There’s your memory, belonging to others, the fading, abstract “remains,” and then also your body, the also fading, but slightly more concrete “remains.” The graveyard is piled high with those who were once important, and not; those who were loved and loved in return, and those who weren’t and didn’t; the virtuous, and the not. All come to the same fate. We leave behind on a stone slab a few scribbles to differentiate us from the countless others: our name and two dates separated by a line. A mere line! Maybe just a dash, really. And that’s our whole life, our existence, and experiences, summed up between two numbers.
What if that didn’t have to be the end of the story? What if we could pass on and then hear, “but wait, there’s more!” Maybe we have an eternal soul, and maybe there’s an afterlife after all. Would knowing that influence our actions on this earth? Does one act more virtuously or less if he believes there is life beyond this one, and should he? Little is certain in life, but dying is. While I’m not advocating becoming death-obsessed, I think we must wryly accept death as a fact of life, and only then can we master the art of living well. If we believe that death is the final end, that there is nothing beyond this life, what is the effect on our ethics?
We can never know that there is going to be more, but what we can know, and maybe the only thing, is that we exist (what existence is and what it is to “know” are tricky things in epistemology, but that’s not for this post). The only thing we’re assured is the present, and the knowledge that what we have in this present will not last. Actions reflect who we are, so do they become more important in light of an eternity, or less?
I’m tempted to say that I’m less virtuous if I believe there’s nothing beyond this life. Being a goody-two-shoes or actually doing great and worthy things means being admired, loved, and respected for a while. There is the possibility of “living on” by example though history, but that seems like weak incentive to me to sacrifice the only life I’m assured if it means constantly doing things I don’t want to do and aren’t in my immediate self-interest. I’m less likely to adhere to societal constructs if it’s better for me that I don’t and I know that my actions don’t, in the end, mean anything more than what they can do for me individually, in the here and now. Retaining liberty by staying out of jail is worth ensuring, of course, but anything beyond that is up for grabs. Actions, and life, ultimately become all that’s important; they also become completely unimportant too. All that I do is really all that matters, and that idea leads to some not so happy places if we want. I can strive to do my best, or to do anything else really, and it has no supreme meaning for me as a person with a soul if it really only has earthly meaning for me as an individual product of society.
We can say that. However, if we think there’s nothing more, no Supreme Reality or Ultimate Existence, or eternal damnation or eternal life, we could also choose another way. We can take it that, if this is it, our actions and character is all that much more important for their finality. We can choose to make our lives, instead of insignificant, meaningful and momentous, and cherish our short time, and seek to be and to do good, for there will be no second chance. To say, I know that this is all I have so I will make the most of it. I will choose to be happy knowing that I only have one shot at this life business, and that I did with it all that I could, even if there’s nothing more.
If, instead, there is an afterlife, and/or we do have eternal souls, this too would influence our course of actions, and there’s a world of interesting possibilities for that, but I’ll stop here for now. And, well, if there is life beyond this one, all I can say is that I hope there are the following things: Music, Love, and, of course, Baseball (but without the Yankees). So what do you think: Would the belief that there is no Great Beyond be a positive encouragement or a detriment to the common good, morality, and ethics?

Sherlock Holmes: Not a Detective?

Imagine that an evil sophist named Moriarty came and asked you the following question:

"I've heard that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; is it true that he was, instead, a detective?"

You are then faced with a conundrum. On the one hand, we would tend to say that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; he was a detective. However, if we affirm that Sherlock Holmes was a detective, we also affirm that Sherlock Holmes "was"-- that is, there was actually a "Sherlock Holmes". If his name refers only to the character of Sherlock Holmes, the position is not salvaged, because the "character" of Sherlock Holmes was not a detective; only those who actually exist can be detectives (so, Santa Claus is not a detective any more than he is a philanthropist), and as the "character" of Sherlock Holmes is not a real person-- merely a literary device-- he cannot be a detective.

One might attempt to salvage Holmes' professional status by adding a modifier: "[In the context of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories], Sherlock Holmes was a detective". While this seems a clever solution, it might not be sufficient to overcome the problem of reference. In the story, "The Sign of the Four", Sherlock Holmes "is" a detective. What does "Sherlock Holmes" refer to? Is it a detective? Yes, that seems to be the case. So, then, what does the modifier, [In the context of a story], actually mean?

It's an interesting question, in part because we assume that the context of a story is, generally, not a subset of our own context. If this were not the case, works of fiction whose context directly contradicted our own context would be problematic; a world where witches can fly on broomsticks would be false, as opposed to merely fictional. And it should be prima facie obvious that our world is not a subset of a fictitious world. Therefore, the context of a story is not a subset of the real-world context, and vice versa.

However, if Sherlock Holmes was a detective in the context of a story, and that context isn't a subset of our own, we return to Moriarty's challenge: "I've heard that Sherlock Holmes was not a dentist; is it true that he was, instead, a detective?"

We would, then, be forced to respond to Moriarty by stating: "No, Sherlock Holmes was not a detective; neither Sherlock Holmes, nor the character of Sherlock Holmes, exists. However, in the context of the stories, Sherlock Holmes was a detective, and existed. This context, however, does not posit any actual existence of Sherlock Holmes, which would suggest that he was therefore not a detective".

Boo hiss, Moriarty. You've presented us with a conundrum, and it seems rational to assume that we must deny Mr. Holmes' professional credentials, even as a character. Do you agree? Disagree? Think there's a flaw in the problem or in the argument? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Graphic Novel Pseudo-Review: Logicomix

Logicomix: An Epic Search for Truth was written by Apostolos Doxiadis and Christos Papadimitriou. It tells about part of the life, ideas, and effects of Bertrand Russell and some of his writings, particularly Principia Mathematica. Common themes that are dealt with include the relation between logicians and madness (and whether there is a causal connection between the two), the arrogance of ignorance about mathematics, and the futility of systematic philosophy.


I call this a pseudo-review because it is not a legitimate review in any meaningful sense. I have only read one other graphic novel before (Bone, which, though it is phenomenal, is quite different in terms of content and intent from Logicomix), so don't know much about the medium. I haven't read a biography of Russell, either, so I can't confirm the historical accuracy of the work. Clearly, I am unqualified to write an actual review... so, what qualifies me to write a pseudo-review?

Well, I have some exposure to logic, meta-logic, and the Russell Paradox (and a few other issues the book raises). I have a strong interest in the topics, and a desire to learn more. I was sparked by the book to do some more research and learn a bit about his life and the lives of those around him. And, perhaps just as important, I appreciate good books.

This was a pretty good book. The reader is told, to some degree, why he or she should care about Russell's life, given a reasonable setting for his life story to be told, and treated to a clever mix of wit and wisdom. I'm led to believe that it is not entirely historically accurate, but then, it doesn't claim to be-- it's fairly explicit about its status as a storytelling device first and foremost. The narrative was fairly gripping and, although mostly predictable in content, was more or less unpredictable in execution. The reader knows at the outset that Russell shall find his way at the end of the book to a certain status, because he is introduced as bearing that status, but the path to get there is communicated vibrantly and through pretty great storytelling.

There are a few problems, however. In my opinion, this is not a work for readers unfamiliar with logic and/or modern analytic philosophy. If you did not have a background in logic or computer science, you would...

1. Be unable to identify figures, such as Wittgenstein and Frege, with respect to their actual significance; they would likely appear as mere caricatures.

2. Be unclear about some of the actual arguments-- for example, while the authors admirably attempt to explain the effects of set theory on infinite sets with the classic hotel-room example, I myself was confused-- and I knew how it worked! If a reader without prior exposure to infinite sets, much less set theory, read the explanation, I'm fairly confident that they would likely be more perplexed by the end than they were at the beginning. I may be incorrect, though.

3. Be uncertain why Russell matters. [SLIGHT SPOILERS AHEAD! TREAD LIGHTLY!] The authors seem fairly dismissive about Russell to me, and reduce him in the end to being a Subjective-Responsibility-Drone. While he's presented as having done a great job of tearing down mathematics, we're lead to believe that he was unable to add anything new to the conversation (Principia Mathematica was moot when it was published, as the story goes), and we're not lead to believe, at least as far as I gathered from my initial reading, that he had any longlasting positive contribution to philosophy.

Additionally, the madness/logic debate is tossed around a bit, but not very convincingly argued-- there's some promising moments throughout the work, but don't expect any masterful resolution or innovative views on the issue.

However, don't let me discourage you; despite its problems, Logicomix is a great work, and I really did enjoy it! I read the entire thing during a single, several-hour sitting at a fast food restaurant, and really enjoyed it. If nothing else, it taught me a little about Russell's life and sparked my interest to do more research outside of the book.

Plus, it was an enjoyable book. And that's saying something, too.

Allah©

An unusual legal dispute has emerged in Malaysia recently about whether non-Muslims may use the word "Allah" to refer to God. The Malaysian government contends that the word is strictly Islamic and may only be used by Muslims, not by the minority religious communities of Christians, Buddhists, and Hindus in the country. The government argues that use of "Allah" in non-Muslim publications will confuse Muslims and presumably make them more likely to convert to other religions. A Catholic publication challenged this prohibition and the Malaysian High Court has ruled in favor of the publication. "Allah" is the English transliteration of the Arabic word for God, and both Christian and Jewish speakers of Arabic generally use it to refer to "their" God. The term entered into the Malay language with the arrival of Arab traders and one report I read claimed that there is no other recognized word in Malay for God. Some people contend that Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But that's not so clear. What are the identity conditions that can be used to determine that my God is the same as your God? For example, most Christians think that God consists of three persons and that one of the persons is the Son of God. Muslims generally consider these beliefs to be both polytheistic and unacceptably anthropomorphic. If there is such radical disagreement about the nature of God, would it not make more sense to say that Christian and Muslims worship two different beings? Neither being might exist for all we know! In any event, maybe it would make sense to reserve "Allah" for the Muslim God (except that Christian Arabs may protest that they were using the word first).