Showing posts with label philosophers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophers. Show all posts

Monday, September 15, 2014

Free Your Mind – But Are There Ideas We Shouldn’t Contemplate?

In essence, Matthew Beard is arguing here for some moral absolutes - that there are some topics, for example post-birth abortion (infanticide) which simply categorically wrong.

Discussing such ideas or beliefs should not be eliminated, but accepting nihilistic positions is not so easily supported.

This comes from The Conversation.

Free your mind – but are there ideas we shouldn’t contemplate?

You’re a free thinker – congratulations – but does that mean you can, and should, approach everything with an open mind? Let me try to convince you you shouldn’t. I do not want to argue with him: he shows…



Matthew Beard
- Research Associate, Centre for Faith, Ethics and Society at University of Notre Dame Australia

14 September 2014


Philosophy begins, as Aristotle remarked, with curiosity and wonder. kozumel
 
You’re a free thinker – congratulations – but does that mean you can, and should, approach everything with an open mind? Let me try to convince you you shouldn’t.
I do not want to argue with him: he shows a corrupt mind.
So remarked Elizabeth Anscombe (1919-2001), a giant of 20th century moral philosophy. She was referring to the kind of person who is open to being convinced of something that is intrinsically unjust, such as a court judicially punishing an innocent man.

This seems to be the antithesis of what a moral philosopher ought to do. Her judgement seems to display a dogmatic close-mindedness to the free thinking that philosophy typifies, and an intolerant disposition toward different ideas. To dismiss the reflective, well-considered thinking of another person – even if it leads to uncomfortable conclusions – is the stuff of ideology, not philosophy.

Or so it seems.

Philosophy is, as any undergraduate student has been told, a love of wisdom and a quest for truth. Philosophers are good at recognising the complexity of truth, and accepting that there is merit in a wide range of different positions. They are also good at explaining why common assumptions are oftentimes problematic, and are therefore masters of qualifying terms:
I agree, but; Yes, insofar as; I think that’s true, on the condition that …
Philosophy begins, as Aristotle remarked, with curiosity and wonder.

Socrates, the pedagogical role model of Western philosophy, saw himself as a gadfly whose constant questioning of unreflective beliefs stung the vacuous horse of the Athenian political system.

Immanuel Kant similarly described the work of David Hume as having awakened him from his “dogmatic slumber”. Once awakened, a mind is hungry for and open to a close and authentic engagement with the truth – this hunger, like the taste for Pringles, is hard to stop once it has begun.

Is everything open to questioning? Are certain things so patently unethical that even being open to believing in them if one hears a persuasive enough argument is demonstrative of a deficient character?


Riccardo Romano

Everyone believes, to borrow an example from Quentin Tarantino’s revenge film, Kill Bill, that sexually abusing a person who had fallen into a coma from which she is not expected to wake is wrong.

What, however, are we to think of the person who argues that “at the moment I think that those practices are immoral, but I’m open to being convinced otherwise"? Is this a virtuous commitment to truth – or a cold and de-personalised detachment from morality?

Reasonable disagreement on complex issues such as commercial surrogacy, the extent of the right to privacy, or same-sex marriage isn’t demonstrative of anything other than the importance of the goods at stake and the wonderful capacity of human beings to form their own opinion.

In such cases tolerance, open-mindedness and respectful debate are virtues of utmost importance. But as Patrick Stokes has argued already in this series, just because we haven’t settled every moral question doesn’t mean that truth is completely subjective. Just because people disagree on some matters doesn’t mean that they do, or even should, disagree on all of them.

One of the mistakes people often make about moral philosophy is that once one becomes a philosopher, one must discover the truth on by themselves. Melbourne philosopher Raimond Gaita describes the consensus view of the true philosopher as being so strongly committed to truth that he or she should “follow the argument wherever it leads”.

Gaita is rightly critical of this position but nevertheless the belief prevails: to shirk hard truths is not becoming of a philosopher. It betrays truth, cowing to popular opinion and a deference to assumption that undermines the very practice of philosophy.

Except that philosophy is itself a moral activity.

Philosophy isn’t (primarily) a profession, nor is it a tool of argument. Philosophy is a way of living and being in the world, and the philosopher is, like every other person, shaping him or herself through reflection, questioning, and analysis.

Should I ever allow myself to become a person who believes that the rape of a comatose person, or any other person, is justified, or – to cite a recent controversy – that “after-birth abortion” (also known as infanticide) might be a justifiable practice?

Of this thinking, Gaita remarks that, “were my commitment to philosophy to tempt to me such nihilism, I would give up philosophy, fearful of what I was becoming.”

I think Gaita is right, but it is important here to distinguish between discussion of a belief and the belief itself. In a Western society, no discussion should be taboo.

The Festival of Dangerous Ideas (FODI) faced a host of criticism for arranging a talk entitled “Honour Killings are Morally Justified”. I think it would be wrong to host such a talk with the hope or belief that people might be persuaded of its truth – but I don’t think hosting a talk on honour killings, with the intention of understanding how the practice is justified by some, of hearing why it takes place, could ever be condemned as immoral.

As I argued at the time, FODI organisers were wrong to title the talk as they did, but they weren’t wrong to want such a talk to occur.

We can discuss which beliefs are ones which it is simply wrong to be open to persuasion regarding; in some ways, that might be a matter of private determination, but we ought to agree that such things exist.

Indeed, any truth, once we recognise it to be true, ought to be clung to. “Test everything. Hold fast to that which is good.” wrote St Paul to the Thessalonians. Be willing to listen, but recognise that what one is willing to be convinced of, or what one is willing to be persuaded from, is itself a moral choice.

“No man wishes to possess the whole world,” Aristotle wrote, “if he must first become somebody else.”

Part of what defines a person, a society, and humanity, must be what we refuse, absolutely, to allow ourselves to become – not only as actors, but as thinkers too.

This is part of a series on public morality in 21st century Australia. We’ll be publishing regular articles on morality on The Conversation in the coming weeks.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

How to Become a Philosopher


From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, another cool collection of links related to philosophy and philosophers. One of the cool papers is by Marc Fleurbaey (Princeton) and Alex Voorhoeve (LSE): On the Social and Personal Value of Existence - here is the abstract.
If a potential person would have a good life if he were to come into existence, can we coherently regard his coming into existence as better for him than his never coming into existence? And can we regard the situation in which he never comes into existence as worse for him? In this paper, we argue that both questions should be answered affirmatively. We also explain where prominent arguments to differing conclusions go wrong. Finally, we explore the relevance of our answers to issues in population ethics.
Regardless of the kind of life a person may have, I know a LOT of people who, given the choice, would choose to never have been born.

How to become a philosopher

Jul 21 2014
9:00AM

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Hot Topics in Political Philosophy (Omnivore)

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, a collection of links on political philosophy with topics ranging from inequality to Thomas Piketty to Jean-Jacques Rousseau (on his continued relevance and his views on equality).

Hot topics in political philosophy

Jun 24 2014
3:00PM

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Omnivore - Philosophy for the Public

 

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, another collection of philosophy links to drag us down the rabbit hole. Included is a review of Mary Midgley's Are You an Illusion? and an article on Midgley's efforts to defend human consciousness against the likes of Richard Dawkins.

There is also a good interview with John Searle, one of the current elder statesmen of philosophy and consciousness.

Philosophy for the public

Apr 10 2014  
9:00AM

Tuesday, April 01, 2014

RSA - From Self to Selfie: Simon Blackburn

Simon Blackburn is the author of Mirror, Mirror: The Uses and Abuses of Self-Love (March 2014). Here is the synopsis of the book from Amazon:
Everyone deplores narcissism, especially in others. The vain are by turns annoying or absurd, offending us whether they are blissfully oblivious or proudly aware of their behavior. But are narcissism and vanity really as bad as they seem? Can we avoid them even if we try? In Mirror, Mirror, Simon Blackburn, the author of such best-selling philosophy books as Think, Being Good, and Lust, says that narcissism, vanity, pride, and self-esteem are more complex than they first appear and have innumerable good and bad forms. Drawing on philosophy, psychology, literature, history, and popular culture, Blackburn offers an enlightening and entertaining exploration of self-love, from the myth of Narcissus and the Christian story of the Fall to today's self-esteem industry.

A sparkling mixture of learning, humor, and style, Mirror, Mirror examines what great thinkers have said about self-love--from Aristotle, Cicero, and Erasmus to Rousseau, Adam Smith, Kant, and Iris Murdoch. It considers today's "me"-related obsessions, such as the "selfie," plastic surgery, and cosmetic enhancements, and reflects on connected phenomena such as the fatal commodification of social life and the tragic overconfidence of George W. Bush and Tony Blair. Ultimately, Mirror, Mirror shows why self-regard is a necessary and healthy part of life. But it also suggests that we have lost the ability to distinguish--let alone strike a balance--between good and bad forms of self-concern.
The video below is a highlight reel, so to speak, of his full talk at the RSA (there is a link to the podcast of the full talk with the Q and A that followed).

From Self to Selfie

13 Mar 2014


When "selfie" became the Oxford Dictionaries word of the year in 2013 many saw it as symptomatic of the triumph of the self-absorbed, individualistic "because-I'm-worth-it" generation. But is narcissism always to be deplored? Isn't a measure of self-regard a healthy necessity - and could we avoid it even if we tried?

Acclaimed academic philosopher and author Simon Blackburn visits the RSA to explore the history of self-love through the writings of great thinkers from Aristotle to Adam Smith, Kant and Iris Murdoch - and to reflect on its contemporary manifestations - from the rise in cosmetic surgery and the burgeoning self-esteem industry, to the tragic over-confidence of Bush and Blair and the fatal commodification of social life.

Speaker: Simon Blackburn, philosopher and author of "Mirror, Mirror: The Uses and Abuses of Self-Love" (Princeton University Press, 2014).

Chair: Jonathan Rowson, director, Social Brain Centre, RSA

To find out more about this talk, visit the event page.

Listen to the podcast of the full event including audience Q&A.
Follow the RSA on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/thersaorg
Like the RSA on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/thersaorg

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Rebecca Goldstein, Plato at the Googlepex - Authors@Google


Philosopher-novelist Rebecca Goldstein (wife of Steven Pinker) has a new book out, Plato at the Googleplex: Why Philosophy Won't Go Away (2014). Recently, she stopped by Google to talk about her new book.

Rebecca Goldstein - Authors@Google

Published on Mar 27, 2014

Goldstein returns to Google, this time with Plato, to talk about her new book.
Abstract from Goldstein's site: "At the heart of the latest work from acclaimed philosopher and novelist Rebecca Newberger Goldstein lies one question: is philosophy obsolete? In PLATO AT THE GOOGLEPLEX (Pantheon Books/March 4, 2014), Goldstein proves why philosophy is here to stay -- and in fact more relevant today than ever before -- by revealing its hidden (though essential) role in today's debates on religion, morality, politics, and science. Goldstein does so in a wholly unique way -- by imagining Plato (the original philosopher) come to life in the twenty-first century. As he embarks on a multicity speaking tour, Goldstein asks: how would Plato handle a host on FOX News who denies that there can be morality without religion? How would he mediate a debate between a Freudian psychoanalyst and a Tiger Mom on how to raise the perfect child? How would he answer a neuroscientist who, about to scan Plato's brain, argues that science has definitively answered the questions of free will and moral agency? And what would Plato make of Google, and the idea that knowledge can be crowdsourced rather than reasoned out by experts? Goldstein also provides an in-depth study of Plato's views, while examining the culture responsible for producing them. With scholarly depth and a novelist's imagination and wit, she probes the deepest issues confronting our time, by allowing us to understand the source of Plato's theories, and to eavesdrop as he takes on the modern world."

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Omnivore - Kill the Philosopher in Your Head

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, another collection of philosophy links for your consumption. 

Release of Heidegger’s 
‘Black Notebooks’ Reignites Debate Over Nazi Ideology 1
“We knew that he had expressed anti-Semitism as private insights, but this shows anti-Semitism tied in to his philosophy,” says Peter Trawny, director of the Martin Heidegger Institute at the U. of Wuppertal. - Jens Grossmann/Laif for The Chronicle
Of particular note here is a review of the new Black Notebooks from Martin Heidegger. These notebooks show the real, very angry Heidegger from the 1930s and 40s, and it shows him as an anti-Semite once and for all.
"In the late 1930s and early 1940s, Heidegger was very angry," says Mr. Trawny. By then, he says, the philosopher realized that both Nazi ideology and his own philosophical mission, which was predicated on a national revolution and Germany’s dominance in Europe, were going to fail. "In this anger, he makes reference to Jews, including some passages that are extremely hostile. We knew that he had expressed anti-Semitism as private insights, but this shows anti-Semitism tied in to his philosophy," says Mr. Trawny.

The editor says Heidegger’s references to a controlling "world Jewry" and to a collusion of "rootless" Jews in both international capitalism and communism are essentially the logic that informs the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the infamous, early 20th-century, anti-Semitic forgery that claims to show a Jewish conspiracy for global domination. "He doesn’t say he’s read The Protocols," says Mr. Trawny, "but that’s not necessary to share a certain kind of anti-Semitism with the Protocols. Nazi propaganda was full of exactly this kind of anti-Semitism."
Of course, there are other good links below, but that one stood out.

Kill the philosopher in your head


Mar 12 2014
3:00PM

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Omnivore - The Path of Philosophy

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, here is another fine collection of links inspired and related to philosophy.

The path of philosophy
Feb 21 2014 
9:00AM

Friday, January 17, 2014

Omnivore - Philosophers Gonna Philosophize

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, here is another quirky collection of philosophy links from around the interwebs.

Philosophers gonna philosophize

Jan 15 2014
9:00AM

Saturday, October 05, 2013

a kill bill philosopher - Gillian Russell interviewed by Richard Marshall (3:AM Magazine)

Cool interview with an interesting philosopher - and it's great to see a female philosopher get some attention. This comes from Richard Marshall at 3:AM Magazine.

a kill bill philosopher

Gillian Russell interviewed by Richard Marshall


Gillian Russell is literally a kick-ass philosopher of language and logic. Here she goes all Bride vs Gogo over the sexyness of philosophy of language, about not letting the analytic/synthetic distinction get left behind, about how philosophy could make more progress than it does if it had more textbooks, about why logic is not dry, about tea drinking and shooting New Zealanders, killing bulls with a single blow, about the philosophers who do martial arts, about viciousness, the awesomeness of Kill Bill and Tarantino, about not burning her armchair and why philosophers are basically omniverous. This one’s got swag.

3:AM: What made you decide to become a philosopher? Were you always worrying about logic, truth and language even when little or did something happen?

Gillian Russell: There were a lot of things. Becoming a philosopher – at least becoming a professional philosopher – takes a long time, and so there are a lot of decision points. Among other things, I really liked the fact that philosophy allowed me to combine my interests in science and mathematics with my interests in the humanities. I loved the breadth. And of course, I desperately admired many of my undergraduate philosophy teachers – David Archard, Stephen Read, Peter Clark, Fraser MacBride, Iain Law, Sarah Sawyer.

But here’s something a bit more personal: growing up in the UK I had a Saturday job as a teenager – I used to work in Boots the Chemist – and when I was in university I had a lot of summer jobs. Most of these were just fine, it’s not as if I was sent down a coal mine or anything, but they were incredibly boring. I straightened shelves, I worked tills and switchboards, I served fast food, I organised people and libraries, I did data entry and filing. I liked the people, and I worked hard, but mostly we were all just waiting for the day to end, and it impressed upon me pretty strongly the downsides of working just for the money, if you aren’t really interested in the tasks you are completing. I didn’t really have any objection to working hard, in fact, I was really looking to work hard, but I felt like, unless actively went after something better, there was a lot of boredom in my future. Those experiences meant that I was really on the look out for something that was more stimulating. 

And I found philosophy interesting. You know I was reading Caitlin Moran‘s autobiography last year – it’s called How to Be a Woman – and she says that as a teenager she finally figured out what love is when she fell in love with Buck Rogers. She says “I discovered what love is, and found that it’s just feeling very…interested. More interested than I had been about anything before.” If I were to say that I fell in love with philosophy, well, that’s what I would mean. And it was sort of a relief, I think. Because a lot of the alternatives weren’t really holding my attention. 

Anyway, once I found something interesting I was prepared to pursue it and hang on. One you start down the path to doing philosophy – as your undergrad degree, or PhD, or even once you’re a professor – there are always going to be lacklustre days, or stressful days. There will be a teacher you don’t like, or a required class you don’t want to take, a committee you don’t want to chair or a paper you’ve lost interest in, and that kind of thing can sap your motivation. But it’s that initial fascination, and the promise of it returning, that gets you though. 

3:AM: The sexy stuff in philosophy for the media seems to be freewill or whether my hands are conscious and is there a meaning to life and things like that but philosophers always seem fascinated with so much more. You work in logic and philosophy of language at lot. What’s the appeal of these realms?

GR: Ah, you know, language always seemed pretty sexy to me! But I guess one part of the appeal is that you get to use some mathematical techniques – logic and stuff like that. I enjoy that. And another thing is that I was deeply impressed by a few papers in the area while I was a student. Tarski’s “Semantic Conception of Truth“, Carnap’s “Empiricism, Semantics and Ontology” and later on things like Kaplan’s “Demonstratives“. So I guess I always dreamed of doing work like that. And of course, in the philosophy of language there’s always this thought, first, that the problems in language might be more tractable than in some other areas (free will, ethics, the meaning of life etc.) and second, that solutions to problems in the philosophy of language might be useful in solving problems elsewhere. Those two things together make the philosophy of language quite exciting; you feel like you could stumble on something that’s both really new, and really big. 


3:AM: You begin your book on the analytic/synthetic distinction (Truth in Virtue of Meaning: A Defence of the Analytic/Synthetic Distinction) with a very striking line ‘ Sometimes it seems as if the debate over the analytic/synthetic distinction didn’t get resolved, so much as left behind.’ Before we get to why you say that, could you just sketch what this distinction is supposed to be and why non-philosophers should pay attention to it.

GR: Well, I don’t know that everyone needs to pay attention to it. There’s a lot of cool stuff out there, you can’t get around to everything. But I do think it is pretty interesting. The analytic/synthetic distinction is a distinction between two kinds of true sentence. Some sentences are true in virtue of two things, what they mean, and the way the world is. “Snow is white” for example, is true in virtue of meaning what it does (if it meant what the sentence “2+2=5″ means it would be false) and the fact that snow has the colour that it does (if snow were black, that would be enough to make the sentence false too.) Sentences that are like that are called “synthetic.” The analytic sentences are meant to be different, they are true in virtue of their meaning alone. The kind of examples that people sometimes give are things like “all bachelors are unmarried” or “all squares have four sides”. To know that such a sentence is true, you don’t have to go out and do surveys, and ask the bachelors whether or not they are married, or count the sides of squares, you just need to know what the sentence means, and then you’ll see that in order to count as a bachelor, you have to be married. Similarly, to count as a square, you have to have four sides. 

Historically, the idea has been important in philosophy because it suggested an epistemology, or a methodology, for mathematics and other formal sciences, such as logic. A lot of philosophers have thought that the way that we come to know mathematical truths is different from the way we come to know truths in empirical sciences like biology and physics. That’s pretty reasonable on the face of it; in mathematics we don’t collect data, or do experiments like we do in physics, and you can’t establish that every integer is the sum of two primes by checking some sample cases and generalising from there. So one thought is that maybe mathematics proceeds by unpacking meanings, essentially, by investigating the consequences of definitions. It’s more interesting, more complicated version of the way we know the truth of something like “all bachelors are unmarried.”

3:AM: It is kind of one of those issues that gets to be involved in lots of issues isn’t it?

GR: Yes, that’s right. It’s not just mathematics, but logic, ethics, philosophy of science. Anywhere you have standard definitions, you might want to say that some of your claims are analytic. This is one of those things I meant about philosophy of language having application all over the place. We use language everywhere, so once you have an idea there, there are lots of different areas in which you can try it out. 

3:AM: A key issue is the question which has got to be mind-messing – how can a contingent sentence like Kaplan’s ‘I am here now’ be analytic whilst a necessary and true one in virtue of its meaning like ‘Hesperus is Phosphorus’ – is not?

GR: Well, yes, but you probably have to be quite involved in the philosophy of language before you get worried about that particular problem! But you’re right, traditional accounts of analytic truth hold that analytic truths have a distinctive kind of modal status, they express necessary truths, i.e. say something that is true in every possible world. It’s not too hard to see why. If a sentence is true in virtue of its meaning, then the meaning is sufficient to guarantee the truth, so no matter what the world is like, it will be true, which is just to say that it will be true in every possible world—necessary. 

“I am here now” is tricky because it’s a standard example of a sentence whose truth seems to be guaranteed by its meaning, even though what it says is not necessary. (I didn’t have to be here now – I could have been somewhere else, and there are other possible worlds where I am.)
“Hesperus is Phosphorus” is tricky because it might not seem, on the surface, to have its truth guaranteed by its meaning (it isn’t quite like “all bachelors are unmarried” for example) but most philosophers these days would say that it expresses a necessary truth. (That’s because we all read Naming and Necessity as undergrads, and Kripke is pretty convincing on the topic.)
Anyway, on the account in my book – Truth in Virtue of Meaning – “I am here now” is analytic, but “Hesperus is Phosphorus” isn’t – but you’d probably want to have a look at the book for the details. 

3:AM: So it’s an issue that involves two giants of philosophy from the last century, Quine and Carnap. They fought about this issue. Carnap defended it and Quine attacked it. Can you say something about how this went and why you think it wasn’t resolved.

GR: I think the study of language really took off after the Quine/Carnap debate had fizzled out. Lots of things that were relevant to the debate came on the scene – rigid designation, direct reference, indexicality – but the topic wasn’t really picked back up again with any seriousness. When people talked about the analytic/synthetic distinction debate they still just talked about the old papers from Quine, Carnap, Putnam, Chomsky, Katz etc. It wasn’t until Boghossian’s Nous paper that people really started seeing what would happen to analyticity given our new discoveries about language. 

3:AM: I always thought that Quine won, the distinction lost and science became a triumph.

GR: Well, all reasonable people are pro-science, but I’m not sure that has quite as much to do with Quine as you suppose! Carnap had a big role in encouraging scientific thought within philosophy, and Carnap and the Vienna Circle were a big part of what made Quine and his work possible. And you know, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to be the kind of philosopher I am today without all of Quine’s work to get logic taken seriously in our discipline. We don’t all agree with each other, but in many ways we’re part of the same tradition, and that tradition is squarely pro-science and pro-mathematics, something that we clearly owe Carnap some thanks for. 

As to whether Quine won or lost on the analytic/synthetic distinction, I suppose that depends on what you mean by “winning.” Does it mean convincing the majority of philosophers? (Is it like winning an election?) If you look at the 2009 PhilPapers survey it says that 65% of respondents “lean towards or accept” the existence of the analytic/synthetic distinction (though I expect that those numbers would have been much higher prior to Quine.) Does it mean getting it right? I think both Quine and Carnap were onto something – some of Quine’s points are basically right – but also that they were working at a time when the study of language was quite underdeveloped. You needed better tools for resolving the debate than either of them had access to. 

3:AM: Returning to the quote from the opening of your book, are you saying that this issue is no longer being left behind?

GR: Well, I like to think of my own book as addressing the old issue with new resources, so yes, I’d say the issue is no longer being left behind. I don’t know that many people are reading my work though! It’s hard to get people to read your stuff.

3:AM: And more generally, is this a more typical process in philosophy than might be thought. It’s not so much that an issue gets resolved but rather ideas are like shape-shifters, becoming gradually uninteresting after a while but re-emerging in a new guise later as killers again. It’s a different kind of morphing than Kuhnian paradigm shifts because it’s not about incommensurates, more to do with philosophers getting bored, or happy to move on without closure or whatever? So I guess this question is about how we might think about progress in philosophy. Can you say something about all this?

GR: You know, I think philosophy could make more progress than it does. Progress needs more than just a few brilliant people, and a few great, original texts. If all you have are a few brilliant manuscripts coming out of a generation of philosophers, they’re going to be forgotten, or only read by a few specialists, who only write stuff that is read by even fewer specialists, and then all it takes is one politically expedient budget cut, or the end of a grant, or just for someone to get sick, and it is all lost again. Once you get beyond the very beginning stages, progress requires the ability to build on what has come before and that means we have to do a great job of training our students. I think one of the things that drives progress in mathematics and the sciences is the existence of good textbooks.
It really doesn’t matter, in physics say, if few working scientists, engineers or mathematicians ever read Newton’s Principia Mathematica, or Einstein’s original papers, because the key lessons have been distilled into really clear, excellent textbooks that are used to train thousands of students each year. In philosophy we have a tendency to privilege the original texts. And it’s good to read original texts, it’s part of getting a general education. But good ideas and arguments rarely appear in their clearest form first time around. So I think one thing that would really help philosophy make more progress would be the presence of more really excellent textbooks. It’s clearly something that helps in logic. Certainly my own teaching and understanding in logic has been massively helped and speeded up by the existence of great textbooks. And that means that all my students are at a better standard than they might have been otherwise. 

3:AM: Now you are a hard-core logician writing papers with titles like ‘Indexicals, context sensitivity and the failure of implication’. This at first seems mighty dry.

GR: It’s really not. I could explain it to you over a pint and it’s not like I’d be explaining Greek grammar or something. You could explain it to teenagers and they’d get it. Bright teenagers, anyway.


3:AM: Is it like in all philosophy, the initial dryness a non-logician might feel disperses once the big picture of the philosophy of logic and language is understood?

GR: I think so. Anyway, a barrier to implication – or you might call it a barrier to entailment – is a thesis that says that no set of sentences all of a certain kind X entails a conclusion of some other kind Y, or informally, that you can’t “get” a Y from an X. The most famous example in philosophy is Hume’s Law, which says that no set of purely descriptive sentences entails a normative conclusion—”you can’t get an ought from an is.” Hume’s law is really controversial. It was endorsed by (among others) the famous ethicist RM Hare, by Karl Popper, and by Frank Jackson, but rejected by Max Black, A.N. Prior and John Searle. But there are other barriers to implication in philosophy too. For example, you can’t get general claims from particular claims: no matter how many individual black ravens you observe, the general claim “all ravens are black” will never follow logically from your observations (unless you can add a general premise – maybe something like “I have now seen all the ravens”.) So there is a particular-general barrier. Another barrier that Hume talked about is the past-future barrier: no claim about the future follows logically from a set of sentences purely about the past. And there are others. There’s a modal barrier: you can’t get claims about how things must be from claims about how they actually are. And an indexical one (that’s what the paper you mention above is about.) 

These other barriers aren’t nearly so controversial, they’re kind of a part of the background picture against which a lot of philosophers work. But Hume’s Law, as I mentioned, is controversial and has often been challenged. And the way you challenge a thesis that says that no set of premises of kind X entails a sentence of kind Y, is by presenting a valid argument with premises of kind X and a conclusion of kind Y. So to challenge Hume’s Law you need an argument with all descriptive premises, but a normative conclusion:

One of AN Prior’s attempts is quite famous. It’s this:
Premise: Tea-drinking is common in England.
Conclusion: Tea-drinking is common in England OR all New Zealanders ought to be shot. 
This might look a little odd if you haven’t studied formal logic, but the conclusion is a classical consequence of the premise by the rule of disjunction introduction. One way to think about mine and Greg’s work on barriers is as using the similarity between all the different barriers to constrain conclusions in the controversial cases. The thought is that if it is sensible to give up Hume’s Law on the basis of the argument above, then it ought to also be sensible to give up the particular general barrier thesis on the basis of this analogous argument:
Premise: Raven A is black.
Conclusion: Raven A is black OR all ravens are black. 
Now, I don’t know how you’ll feel about this, but my sense is that to give up the particular-general barrier thesis on this basis would be kind of missing the point. There’s clearly something correct about the claim that you can’t get a general claim from particular ones, and we just need to refine it a bit. Maybe get a little clearer on exactly what counts as a “general” or “particular” sentence. Anyway, it turns out that once you do that you can prove the particular-general barrier thesis for first-order classical logic. So that’s kind of nice. And if this sort of refinement works in the particular-general case, why not in the more controversial Hume’s Law case?

Anyway, that’s a short introduction to the project. I’m writing a book on this right now.

3:AM: You wanted to kill a bull with one blow by the time you were fourteen. What is it with logic and martial arts?

GR: Oh I don’t know. I suppose you might think the martial arts attracts self-aggrandising assholes, and philosophy…well. 

I should point out that I only wanted to be able to kill a bull with one blow – no actual animal-killing was desired.

3:AM: Graham Priest is another top philosopher with this going on too.

GR: Yeah, actually, I’m a big fan of Graham’s. Both the martial arts and philosophy could do with more of his type. And there’s Laurie Paul, Chris Mortensen, David Velleman, Damon Young, Koji Tanaka, Audrey Yap, John Greco, Trish Peterson, Massimiliano Vignolo, Carlo Penco and John Dorris – I’m sure I’m forgetting some, it feels like I’m always running into philosophers who do martial arts. 

3:AM: You wrote a great essay ‘Epistemic Viciousness in the Martial Arts.’ You link epistemic viciousness to false belief formation. Can you say more about the link between viciousness, epistemology, logic, philosophy and kung foo?

GR: OK, so the “viciousness” in the paper title is viciousness in the slightly old-fashioned sense of “possessing of vices.” There’s a standard thought in the martial arts – certainly in the martial arts that people in the West think of as exotic, like karate or shinto muso (as opposed to archery and wrestling) that training in a martial art is supposed to make you a better person – more morally virtuous.
Lots of martial arts exalt their founders as paragons of ethical virtue, as well as great fighters, and their websites suggest you will become a better person as a result of your training, even that your kid will be less likely to take drugs if you send him to class. Anyway, my paper argues that whatever the moral virtues of training in the martial arts, it has a tendency to encourage epistemic vices such as gullibility, inappropriate epistemic deference to senior students and history, and reluctance to take a look at other sources of evidence (such as research in sports science and anatomy, emergency room and crime statistics, and even other martial arts.) 

The paper came about because I was struck by the number of smart people who picked up weird beliefs in the dojo; engineers who believe in ki or even “touchless knockouts”, university students who tell newcomers that “strength isn’t important in fighting” and over and over again people who overestimate the efficacy of years of fine-grained study in response to real world aggression. The martial arts is full of middle class professionals who hope/believe that training twice a week for two years makes them safe. They’re not stupid people, but … but humans are weird about violence. Anyway, I could go on about this stuff for hours…


3:AM: Is ‘Kill Bill’ more philosophical than we thought?

GR: I think “Kill Bill“‘s awesomeness might be independent of its philosophical content. Also of it’s martial arts content. It is pretty awesome though. I’m not really into film, but I like Tarantino.

3:AM: You reviewed Tim Williamson’s book ‘The Philosophy of Philosophy’ and wrote about the several reasons why philosophers have tended to be reluctant to engage in philosophizing philosophy. Xphi seems to be a branch of philosophy that now continually engages with raising questions about the suppositions of philosophers about many areas of thought. Have you been convinced that perhaps some of the intuitions even in logic may be less pure and rational than philosophers have taken them to be? As a logician, are there reasons for joining Josh Knobe and burning your armchair?

GR: I think philosophers are basically omnivorous. They’ll take whatever data you throw at them – from surveys, history, chemistry labs, Hadron colliders, mathematics, film studies, whatever, and run with it. And I hope I’m open to whatever comes my way. Josh has interesting and challenging results and it’s good to use that work. But as a matter of my own personal temperament, when we did physics in secondary school, and sometimes the classes were “theory” classes and other times the classes were “experiment” classes, the theory classes were always just more interesting. Theory classes were examining the relationship between energy and matter. Experiment classes were melting ice in a bucket and counting the drips and trying to get your lab partner not to fuck it up. If someone else is happy to count the drips, I’ll happily use the data. But I’d rather someone else did the experiments.

3:AM: So when you’re not philosophizing, what books, films, music do you find inspiring or enlightening? Are you a martial arts film buff?

GR: Well, I read a lot, but I’m not always looking for enlightenment. And I probably consume more martial arts books than films. Personal favourites include Gavin de Becker’s The Gift of Fear, Grossman’s On Killing, Ellis Amdur’s Duelling with O’sensei and the classic that is Jack Dempsey’s How to Fight Tough. If you don’t know it you should probably just go and order that last one right now, it’s amazing.

I’ve lived my whole life with headphones on. If I go deaf I’ll probably consider it worth it. If it killed me at 40, I might still consider it worth it. Anyway, I’m looking forward to the new Franz Ferdinand album. 

3:AM: And finally, for the 3:AM crowd, which five books (other than your own which of course we’ll be dashing away to read straight after this) would you recommend if we wanted to get further into your philosophical world?

GR: OK, I think each of these make great general reading, in no particular order. Some of them are essays, rather than books, but I hope that’s OK. Also, there are seven. 

1. Bertrand Russell – Problems of Philosophy
2. Thomas Nagel – Mortal Questions
3. “Empiricism, Semantics and Ontology” – R. Carnap
4. “If God is dead, is everything permitted?” – E. Anderson
5. “The Semantic Conception of Truth and the Foundations of Semantics” – A. Tarski
6. “Wittgenstein on Rules and Private Language” – S. Kripke
7. Adam Morton – On Evil



 

ABOUT THE INTERVIEWER Richard Marshall is still biding his time.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Friday, September 27th, 2013.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Continental Philosophy in the Pellucid Register

From Bookforum's Omnivore blog, another interesting collection of philosophy links, including one to the new(ish) edition of Speculations, a special issue on Speculative Realism.


Continental philosophy in the pellucid register

Sep 25 2013
3:00PM


Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Timothy Williamson Interviewed by Richard Marshall - Modality and Metaphysics (3:am Magazine)

Timothy Williamson is the author of Model Logic as Metaphysics (2013), Vagueness, The Philosophy of Philosophy, Knowledge and its Limits, and Identity and Discrimination. In this interview with 3:am Magazine's Richard Marshall, Williamson discusses a lot of topics and ideas I had to research a bit in order to grok even a wee bit

Be that as it may, this is a cool interview with an influential philosopher most of us have never read and are likely not familiar.

modality and metaphysics


Timothy Williamson interviewed by Richard Marshall.



Best known as the Ace Ventura of Vagueness, the Fu Fighter of the Philosophy of Philosophy, the Nightwing of Knowledge and its Limits and the Iceman of Identity and Discrimination, Timothy Williamson is no less the Marvel Man of Modality and Metaphysics. His first interview with 3ammagazine pioneered the End Times series. He’s invited back with a new book to join the series he inspired and broods to the depths on why naturalism is an unhelpful term, why ‘mad dog naturalist’ Alex Rosenberg is brave but wrong, why Paul Horwich’s Wittgensteinianism is also deeply mistaken, about why there’s a need to dirty one’s hands on technicalities if you want to be able to choose between competing theories, about necessitism vs contingentism, permanentism vs temporaryism, an aside about death, about Ruth Barcan Marcus’s key axiom, about his deepened respect for Rudolph Carnap,about Kripke’s fantastic success story, and Bob Stalnaker’s and Kit Fine’s contributions too, and about higher order modal logic being an alternative paradigm for core metaphysical theories. Like the Hulk, this one’s so kickin’ it needs a cage in high atmosphere. Smashed It!

3:AM:
Since your last interview here you’ve got a new book out regarding modal logic and metaphysics. But before turning to that, you’ve continued to defend a particular vision of philosophy and there have been two prominent challenges that you’ve faced down on behalf of analytic philosophy. The first of these is a Quinean philosophical naturalism and the other, much more recently, is the Wittgensteinian challenge to what Paul Horwich has called Traditional philosophy. So we can start with the first of these. In your arguments against the naturalist case are you batting for analytic metaphysics and what are the reasons for this?

Timothy Williamson: I’ve been trying to wake people up to the confusion in the current use of the word ‘naturalism’. That isn’t a matter of being anti-naturalist or naturalist but of refusing to define one’s position in such naïve terms. The word ‘naturalism’ is used to bundle together various different ideas, some good, some bad. I’m sometimes called a naturalist, sometimes an anti-naturalist, because I accept some of those ideas and reject others.

A good idea associated with the phrase ‘Quinean philosophical naturalism’ is a holistic one: although we can divide human inquiry into different disciplines (physics, biology, mathematics, philosophy, history, economics, …) for organizational purposes, they are all interconnected, and the results of any one of them are in principle relevant to the results of any other. For example, history and astronomy interact because historical documents contain reports of comets: sometimes they help astronomers establish the period of the comet, sometimes they help historians date ancient events. Philosophy is and always has been deeply engaged in that holistic interaction. It is much more similar to the rest of human inquiry than some philosophers like to think. For example, it is hopeless to pretend that the results of natural science are in principle irrelevant to philosophy on the grounds that philosophical questions are ‘purely conceptual’. In my previous book The Philosophy of Philosophy I defended such anti-exceptionalism about philosophy, and it is of course an idea that Quine defended too.

But some bad ideas are also associated with the phrase ‘Quinean philosophical naturalism’, which can be roughly summed up by the terms ‘reductionism’ and ‘scientism’. Quine privileged natural science, and in particular physics, over all other forms of inquiry, to the point of not taking very seriously any theory that couldn’t be reduced to part of natural science. The methodology of the natural sciences is obviously by far the best way we have of answering the sort of questions those sciences ask, and I’ve already said that the answers are relevant in principle to any other branch of human inquiry. Equally obviously, it does not follow that natural science is the best way of answering the questions that those other branches ask. If your question is about physics, ask a physicist; if your question is about history, ask an historian. A decent working assumption (not an exceptionless sacrosanct principle) is that the practitioners of any well-established intellectual discipline tend to use the most suitable methodology available for answering its questions. Philosophy is no exception. So another thing I did in The Philosophy of Philosophy was to explain the rationale for the standard ‘armchair’ methodology of contemporary analytic philosophy, in particular for its use of thought experiments and for the very minor role that experimentation plays.

You mentioned analytic metaphysics, although it’s only one example amongst many. Analytic metaphysicians don’t ignore natural science: for example, they treat Einsteinian special relativity as an extremely serious threat to a traditional or common sense conception of time. But it’s true that much of analytic metaphysics consists of theorizing that is only very loosely constrained by natural science. In most cases, it would be pointless to tell those analytic metaphysicians to pay more attention to natural science, or to do some experiments, because it’s utterly unclear how doing so would help them answer their questions.

The central figure in analytic metaphysics over recent decades was undoubtedly David Lewis, who was strongly influenced by Quine. He is notorious for his theory of modal realism, according to which other possible worlds are spacetime systems disjoint from ours but equally real and concrete. Lewis justifies his modal realism using a methodology drawn from Quinean philosophical naturalism. He argues in effect that modal realism yields the best systematization of various phenomena in the clear, simple terms of standard first-order logic, to which Quine assigned a privileged status, and an ontology of concrete objects. Lewis’s argument is abductive, an inference to the best explanation, which is a style of argument typical of the natural sciences. So it’s a mistake to regard analytic metaphysics and Quinean philosophical naturalism as automatically opposed, unless Quinean philosophical naturalism is internally inconsistent, because it gives rise to analytic metaphysics. Of course, Quine didn’t accept Lewis’s modal realism. Nor do I. But such theoretical disagreements are quite different from the idea that there is no room in principle for analytic metaphysics, and that we should leave metaphysics to the natural scientists. If you look at Quine’s own work, you see that he paid very little attention to post-1930 physics. Physicists are simply not trained to deal with many of the questions that metaphysicians ask, and are just as liable to embarrass themselves if they try to sort out metaphysics as metaphysicians are if they try to sort out physics, although I should emphasize that very productive dialogue is possible when both sides have a sense of their own limitations. There is a significant overlap between philosophy of physics and theoretical physics.

My own view is that the affinities between metaphysics and mathematics are just as important as those between metaphysics and physics. Mathematics is the most rigorous form of human inquiry there is, and also the one least sensitive to the results of observation and experiment. You shouldn’t just think of mathematicians as proving theorems. You must remember that their proofs depend on first principles, axioms, which have to come from somewhere. Set theorists search for new axioms to resolve problems such as Cantor’s continuum hypothesis, which are undecidable on the basis of the current axioms. Their search uses an abductive methodology that has much in common with the methodology of analytic metaphysics. They are looking for strong, simple, elegant axioms that have unifying power and are consistent with everything we already know.

3:AM: Alex Rosenberg thinks that understanding the nature of maths will rest on the success that science has had so far in making sense of everything else. He bets that an epistemology explaining how we know a priori synthetic truths will come from science not analytic philosophy. And he also points out that even if you’re right that naturalists have no handle on mathematical truths, neither do non-naturalists. How do you respond?

TW: Alex bravely defends what I think of as the worst beliefs associated with the word ‘naturalism’, the scientism and the reductionism. He claims that only the methodology of natural science produces genuine knowledge. I pointed to mathematics as a glaring counterexample. He admits that it’s a problem for his view, but has faith that somehow or other, he has no idea how, the methodology of natural science will solve the problem and show that mathematics isn’t really a counterexample after all. There is no symmetry between his view and mine with respect to mathematics. On the face of it, mathematics is a massive counterexample to his view. On the face of it, mathematics is perfectly consistent with my view. His view requires mathematics to be either reduced to natural science or ditched. He can’t ditch it, because natural science itself uses mathematics all the time, and he has no idea how to reduce it to natural science. My view involves no such dilemma. Mathematics is fine as it is, without being reduced to anything else. He can’t find the sort of handle on mathematics his view says he needs. My view says no such handle is needed.

Furthermore, it’s not even approximately true that natural science has had success in making sense of everything but mathematics, if that involves showing that other forms of genuine human knowledge resulted from the methodology of the natural sciences. We have massive knowledge of history that doesn’t come from that methodology. Of course, some naturalists in a watered-down sense would stretch their understanding of the methodology to cover past and present historical scholarship. But Alex Rosenberg doesn’t do that, he just dismisses history as a source of genuine knowledge. If he wants to enact a reductio ad absurdum of his own extremist brand of naturalism, that’s fine by me.

3:AM: Paul Horwich’s Wittgensteinian challenge basically called out Traditional Theoretical philosophy (‘T-philosophy’) as being irrationalist. You mounted a very vigorous defence. You disputed many of the claims that were supposed to damn T-philosophy and concluded that if this was Wittgenstein then Wittgenstein was pretty unimpressive and inconsistent. Can you summarise the dispute?



TW: I’ll start with the point about inconsistency. Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy has long been accused of being self-refuting, because it condemns the very activity it’s engaged in. The problem sticks out a mile in Paul’s recent book on the subject, in part because he writes so clearly and directly. Roughly, the characteristic of T-philosophy as Paul defines it is that it gives a priori informal arguments for deeply non-obvious conclusions. The book gives a priori informal arguments for the deeply non-obvious conclusion that it is irrational to do T-philosophy, i.e. to give a priori informal arguments for deeply non-obvious conclusions, i.e. to argue in the very way he’s arguing. In that sense, the book is rather clearly self-refuting. In effect, Paul’s reply is that the conclusion that it is irrational to do T-philosophy isn’t deeply non-obvious, because his arguments render it potentially obvious, but of course the T-philosophers he’s criticizing might say the same thing.

In the long run, what matters is the quality of Horwich’s Wittgenstein’s arguments compared to the best arguments in T-philosophy. If one could argue by the highest standards of T-philosophy that T-philosophy is irrational, that would be a serious strike against T-philosophy. Fortunately, the arguments that T-philosophy is irrational don’t meet the highest standards of T-philosophy. The part of Paul’s critique most likely to worry a contemporary T-philosopher is the least Wittgensteinian bit, which is the historical charge that T-philosophy has a poor track record of solving its own problems. It would be idle to pretend that such a charge is entirely baseless, although it is somewhat exaggerated. Arguably, Plato in his Sophist solved a problem about how one can speak falsely that had plagued his predecessors. Through the development of modal logic, we know far more about the basic principles governing possibility and necessity than was known a century ago—and I’m not talking here about the purely mathematical side of modal logic, but about principles interpreted in terms of a genuinely metaphysical understanding of possibility and necessity. Philosophy’s less than shining track record is above all evidence that philosophical problems are often very, very hard. It’s not as though Horwich’s Wittgenstein or anyone else has a very promising strategy for solving them other than by doing T-philosophy, perhaps in a refined form. To his credit, Horwich’s Wittgenstein doesn’t take the implausible line of arguing that T-philosophical questions are meaningless (which would involve self-refuting T-philosophical arguments about the nature of meaning).

As for the relation between Horwich’s Wittgenstein and the historical Wittgenstein, that isn’t the issue that mainly exercises either Paul or me, although Paul claims that an examination of Wittgenstein’s texts will in fact show his interpretation to be accurate. I’m no Wittgenstein scholar, but my own guess is that the historical Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy was rooted in his theoretical ideas about meaning in a way that Horwich denies. However, I don’t think that T-philosophy has any more to fear from the historical Wittgenstein than it has from Horwich’s version.

3:AM: One of the many things you challenge is Horwich’s attack on the use of thought experiments and idealization and imagination for epistemology. He allows model building in science but not in epistemology. Why is he wrong?

TW: I’m not sure how far Paul would go on those issues, or how far he has thought through his position on them. He himself has used a Bayesian probabilistic framework to clarify some questions in epistemology, which I doubt Wittgenstein would have been happy to do. I guess he thinks that such clarifications will never lead to a good T-philosophical epistemology. My view is that formal methods based on the probability calculus and models of epistemic logic have already cast significant light on epistemology, even though formal epistemology and general epistemology are too often pursued in mutual ignorance and suspicion. For example, it is virtually impossible in practice to think through tricky issues concerning evidence about one’s own evidence accurately without the guidance of formal models. Those models involve idealizations similar to those in science. For example, treating agents as logically perfect (as formal models typically do) is similar to treating planets as point masses. I find no good reason in Horwich’s work or Wittgenstein’s for pessimism about the value of idealized formal models in epistemology or any other branch of philosophy.

As for thought experiments and imagination, I don’t think Paul regards their use in epistemology or elsewhere in philosophy as illegitimate. He doubts that they will lead to good systematic theories. The best response for T-philosophers is just to build such theories, which is what I have tried to do.

3:AM:
Horwich’s position went a little further than most in terms of its impact on philosophy because it would recommend that we no longer fund T-philosophy. Why should we be hostile to anything along these lines? It seems odd that at a time when the humanities are under pressure from the money men running universities these days, philosophers are digging their own graves.


TW: Horwich didn’t explicitly call for T-philosophy not to be funded. I pointed out that if the picture of philosophy in his book were accurate, philosophy should be abolished. The reader encounters just two sorts of philosophy: irrational T-philosophy, and level-headed Wittgensteinian debunkers of T-philosophers. Philosophy is presented as an activity in which some people make a mess and others clear it up. Why on earth should taxpayers fund that? It looks as though we’d be better off simply abolishing the activity altogether. A more common line amongst Wittgensteinians is that all sorts of intellectual activity outside philosophy give rise to conceptual confusions that philosophers are best equipped to clear up, so our culture as a whole would be worse off if philosophy were abolished. For example, you get Wittgensteinian philosophers of mind impatiently dismissing large chunks of cognitive science which attribute thoughts to modules in the brain rather than to the whole person. But Horwich didn’t take that line in his book. He’s at a rich private university, New York University, where’s he’s more protected from financial pressures than those working in publicly funded universities. It’s other philosophers’ graves he’s digging, not his own. Once one understands how deeply integrated philosophy is with the rest of human inquiry, the foolishness of not funding it becomes evident.



3:AM: Your new book, Model Logic as Metaphysics, sets a special problem for an interview in that you started wanting to do a book about modal logic as metaphysics with little technical stuff in it but as you worked at it you concluded that only through a pretty formidable armoury of technical logic would you be able to do this. How far can we get on your approach to metaphysics without the technical stuff? And do you think metaphysics without this apparatus is seriously oversimplified, too informal and possibly redundant?

TW: In writing the book, I decided that the task for the first chapter would be to get as far as possible without technicalities. I banned all formulas from that chapter. What I did in it was to explain and develop two opposed metaphysical views, and why each of them is internally coherent and can be reconciled with the phenomena. What I couldn’t do was to explain in detail what I regard as the strongest reasons for preferring one of them over the other. Those reasons have to do with what happens when one embeds those views in modal logics appropriate to them. Under the relevant interpretation, those modal logics constitute opposed metaphysical theories. When one compares those theories by normal standards for theory choice in science—using criteria such as strength, simplicity, elegance, unifying power, and consistency with independently verified facts—one of them does significantly better than the other. One just can’t make that comparison without dirtying one’s hands on technicalities.

I don’t want to insist in advance that all metaphysical issues require such technically high-powered treatment, although my suspicion is that many of them do. There is a tendency in contemporary metaphysics to stick a label on a couple of examples and call it a theory. In such cases it’s very hard to say what the theory implies and what it doesn’t. Once you have theories set out as explicit universal generalizations with a clear content, you are already quite some way towards formal theories. It’s not obvious just how far metaphysics lends itself to such theory-building. But where we can get clear, powerful, simple metaphysical theories that can be reconciled with the phenomena, they will tend to beat metaphysical theories that lack those virtues. Leibniz would have found such a methodology quite congenial.

3:AM: Let’s see how far we can get with just words! Your new book starts with the statements: ‘Things could have been otherwise. It is contingent how they are. Although the coin comes up heads, it could have come up tails.’ But then you ask the question ‘Is it also contingent what things there are?’ You come up with the rather surprising answer ‘No’. Are you saying that it is necessary what there is? And does this position have a history that goes back before Frank Ramsey and his reading of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus?

TW: And before the Tractatus itself. Anyway, I am indeed saying that it is necessary what there is. Necessarily everything is necessarily something. There could not have been more or fewer things than there actually are, and which particular things there are could not have been different. What is contingent is only what properties those things have, and what relations they have to each other. I call that view necessitism. Its denial is contingentism.

Who knows how far back necessitism goes? Maybe Parmenides was some sort of necessitist. In modal logic, necessitism corresponds to something known as the Barcan formula and its converse, a form of which can already be found in the work of the great Persian philosopher Avicenna. Benjamin Schnieder has provided strong evidence that the way in which I argue necessitists should understand possible objects was anticipated by Bolzano.

3:AM: Does this position deny that it’s contingent what kinds of things are instantiated? Couldn’t Wittgenstein have had a daughter?

TW: Wittgenstein could indeed have had a daughter. But no past, present, or future person could have been a daughter of Wittgenstein, at least not in the biological sense (obviously he could have adopted many actual women). Nor could any actual sum of atoms have been identical with a daughter of Wittgenstein, it could only have constituted such a daughter, and constitution isn’t identity. Rather, for a necessitist, something that could have been a daughter of Wittgenstein is a merely possible person, and a merely possible concrete object. It is neither concrete, a person, nor a daughter of Wittgenstein, but it could have been all three. Similarly, there could have been no tigers, if evolution had taken a different turn. In those counterfactual circumstances, all the actual tigers would have been merely possible tigers—non-concrete non-tigers that could have been concrete tigers. So it is contingent what kinds of thing are instantiated.

3:AM: The contrast between necessitism and contingentism is what you explain in the book and there are subtleties in both positions that if we overlook we’ll misunderstand your claim supporting necessitism. The last two responses show some of the subtleties. Can you summarise what is at stake in this dispute and who ought to take note?

TW: What’s at stake is the appropriate framework for thinking about being and non-being, and about what could or could not have been otherwise. That’s pretty fundamental to metaphysics. I argue in the book that to understand the implications of necessitism and contingentism properly, we also have to consider how they combine with theories about whether it’s contingent what properties and relations there are, including properties and relations of properties and relations. Once we start formulating rigorous, systematic theories of these matters at an appropriate level of generality, the language we need is that of what’s called higher-order modal logic. That’s also the language we can use to formulate a vast range of claims in metaphysics, so by studying its logic we gain much greater knowledge of the logical relations and status of all sorts of metaphysical ideas, not just those directly connected to the dispute between necessitism and contingentism.

I’ll mention three examples of less obvious connections.
First: One of the early pioneers of higher-order modal logic was Richard Montague, who used it as a framework for the formal semantics of natural languages. It lends itself to a rigorous semantic analysis that provides appropriate semantic values for expressions of an extremely wide range of grammatical categories, and therefore to generalizations over those semantic values. Montague’s ideas continue to be influential in semantics as a branch of linguistics. Thus there is a natural link between higher-order modal logic and the semantic study of natural languages.

Second: A crucial problem in the philosophy of mathematics is how to deal with apparently unrestricted generality. In standard set theory, there is no set of all sets, because the assumption that there is one generates a contradiction, via Russell’s paradox of the set of all sets that are not members of themselves. So when we say ‘all sets’, we are generalizing in a way that apparently can’t be captured within set theory itself: there is no set whose members are what we are generalizing over. Or can we somehow always broaden our horizon to include a set of all those sets that were within the previous, narrower horizon? Now the language of pure mathematics itself isn’t essentially modal; standard mathematical theorems and proofs can all be formulated without terms for possibility or necessity. Nevertheless, an increasing number of philosophers of mathematics are using modal language to formulate theories about generality, sets, and pluralities. For example, they want to try out the theories on which any things could form a set, even if they don’t form a set. A higher-order modal language is just what they need to formulate such theories. So higher-order modal logic is relevant to fundamental questions about the interpretation of mathematics.

Third: The dispute between necessitism and contingentism is relevant to some problems in moral philosophy and value theory. For example, some choices may involve us in comparing the value of the actual state of affairs with the value of a counterfactual state of affairs in which there would be people who are never actually conceived (think of a couple deciding whether to have another child). For a contingentist those comparisons are logically very tricky, because they involve one situation in which an individual has a given level of wellbeing with another situation from which that individual is totally absent, and so presumably there is no corresponding level of wellbeing. Necessitism avoids those logical problems.
3:AM: So what are the reasons for defending necessitism? Can they be stated or at least gestured at without the technical machinery? And can we avoid muddled debates and distinctions elsewhere if we get this one straightened out and is cleaning out muddle part of the aim of your book?

TW: Necessitism has a head-start over contingentism because it is a much simpler, more unified, stronger theory. That advantage increases once one considers their links to higher-order necessitism (roughly, necessitism about properties and relations) and higher-order contingentism respectively. The most unified, principled positions look like necessitism plus higher-order necessitism and contingentism plus higher-order contingentism. By contrast, necessitism plus higher-order contingentism and contingentism plus higher-order necessitism look like messy, ad hoc hybrids. For example, one would expect that it is contingent that there is such a thing as me if and only if it is contingent that there is such a property as being identical with me (or such a property as being distinct from me). Some of the most technical parts of the book go into exhibiting the disadvantages of higher-order contingentism. One of the main tasks of higher-order logic is to serve as an appropriate background logic for mathematical theories of arithmetic and set theory. In order to capture the intended generality of the principle of mathematical induction and of some axioms of set theory one needs to formulate them as axioms in second-order logic rather than as axiom schemas in first-order logic. One can show that higher-order contingentist modal logic, unlike higher-order necessitist modal logic, is inadequate for the intended applications of the modal analogues of such principles. So that’s another advantage of necessitism plus higher-order necessitism over contingentism plus higher-order contingentism. Another advantage of necessitism is that, in a sense that can with hard work be made precise, it draws useful distinctions that contingentism apparently can’t capture. For example, the necessitist can ask how many possible stars there are, i.e. how many things that could be stars. That’s different from asking how many stars there could be. For example, even if it’s necessary that there are only finitely many stars, there may still be infinitely many possible stars (from a necessitist perspective) because different things may be stars in different possible situations even if there’s no one possible situation in which all of them are stars. It turns out that in first-order modal logic (where one can generalize over individual things but not over their properties and relations) the contingentist can in a precise sense simulate all the necessitist’s distinctions, and vice versa, so in that respect neither side has an advantage over the other. But in higher-order modal logic, while the necessitist can still simulate all the contingentist’s distinctions, the contingentist can’t simulate all the necessitist’s distinctions (without cheating). Moreover, for specific reasons it is quite implausible for the contingentist to dismiss those necessitist distinctions as spurious. So that’s another strike in favour of necessitism. I hope this vague sketch of the arguments gives some idea of both the nature of the arguments and why they can only be properly formulated and assessed in a rigorous, explicit formal framework.

The book does sort out some muddles in passing, for example about the ambiguity in phrases like ‘a possible person’ (between ‘something that could be a person’ and ‘a person that could exist’). It also aims to replace some confused disputes with clearer ones. An example is the supposed dispute between ‘actualism’ and ‘possibilism’. The latter dispute is desperately unclear, because the actualist principle is supposed to be something like ‘Everything is actual’, which turns out to be utterly trivial in modal logic. People sometimes treat ‘actualism’ as just code for the denial of Lewis’s modal realism, but if one wants to debate Lewis’s views one should do so directly. His modal realism is marginal to the issues that should be central if one takes modal logic more seriously than he took it. It’s time to reorient modal metaphysics towards the latter issues. The central aim of my book is not sorting out muddles but getting on with the constructive theorizing. Of course, you’d better not be too muddled when you do the theorizing, otherwise you’ll mess it up.

3:AM: What are the controversial by-products of necessitism and why don’t you find them so problematic as to indicate that there’s a flaw somewhere?

TW: When contingentists try to articulate what they regard as the most problematic consequences of necessitism, they usually start using the word ‘exist’. They formulate necessitism as the claim that necessarily everything has necessary existence, and then argue that if my actual parents had never met I would not have existed. Therefore, since it could have happened that my actual parents never met, it could have happened that I did not exist, so my existence is contingent. When I formulate necessitism I don’t use the word ‘exist’, because I regard it as too slippery. I formulate necessitism as the principle that necessarily everything is necessarily something, where ‘everything’ and ‘something’ are totally unrestricted. If using ‘exist’ were just a harmless reformulation, then the contingentist objection should sound just as good when posed in my original terms. The crucial premise would then be that if my actual parents had never met I would not have been anything. Put that way, it starts to become clear that the premise is a highly theoretical one, over which common sense has no special authority. Thus contingentists’ clinging to the word ‘exist’ strongly suggests that they are building some extra restriction into it. Let’s abstractly say that they are using it to mean ‘be something substantial’. Then their reformulation of necessitism in terms of ‘exist’ becomes the principle that necessarily everything is necessarily something substantial, which in no way follows from necessitism as formulated properly. Thus contingentists’ biggest grouse against necessitism depends on misrepresenting its meaning.



Contingentists have other complaints too. For example, necessitism forces some essentialist claims to be qualified. I’m not essentially a human, for if I hadn’t been concrete I wouldn’t have been a human. I’m just essentially a human-if-concrete. Necessitism also involves a massive multiplication of contingently nonconcrete entities, and raises issues about how they are individuated. While such consequences involve some genuine theoretical costs, they are massively outweighed by its theoretical benefits. Once we are alert to fancy footwork with the word ‘exist’, we have no good reason to regard necessitism as inconsistent with anything we already know.

3:AM: You reorientate metaphysics of quantified modal logic around this necessitism-contingentism debate and the metaphysics of quantified temporal logic around another debate, one between permanentism and temporaryism. You’ve told us about the main features of the former; can you now summarise what this second dispute is about, what’s at stake and which side we should be on?

TW: Permanentism stands to time as necessitism stands to possibility. Just as necessitism says that necessarily everything is necessarily something, so permanentism says that always everything is always something. Thus necessitism is the view that ontology is necessary and permanentism is the view that ontology is permanent. Just as contingentism is the denial of necessitism, so temporaryism is the denial of permanentism. Just as necessitism can be misrepresented as the view that necessarily everything has necessary existence, in conflict with our contingency, so permanentism can be misrepresented as the view that always everything has permanent existence, in conflict with our mortality (in both cases, once something substantial has been read into ‘exist’). From the point of view of technical logic, the arguments for permanentism parallel the arguments for necessitism more or less exactly. The biggest difference between the two disputes is that in the case of time arguments from physics—specifically, from special relativity—may undermine temporaryism, by forcing unrestricted generalizations to range over the whole of spacetime (though I think the jury’s still out on that). In the case of possibility, there is no correspondingly serious threat to contingentism from natural science (I don’t count modal realism). Thus the case for permanentism is even stronger than the case for necessitism. In the book I concentrate mainly on the modal issues, with occasional looks at the temporal ones for purposes of comparison.

There’s a brief section on the significance of death. Permanentism itself is no consolation for mortality. Although it entails that after death you remain something, it holds out no better prospect than becoming a former living being: a painless state, but no fun at all. Indeed, far from making death less bad, permanentism excludes one way of trying to remove its sting: the argument that being dead is no misfortune because nothing has the property of being dead. That argument depends on the temporaryist assumption that the dead are literally nothing (an assumption that also makes our ability to pick out and refer to particular dead people quite problematic). Permanentists may find some other way of consoling themselves for their mortality, but not that way.

3:AM: What do Ruth Barcan Marcus and Saul Kripke contribute to your approach? Are they—and Stalnaker too—the go-to guys in the formal semantics for modal languages that pick up the tradition of Carnap that you argue contrasts with alternative Quine/Lewis approaches to possible worlds?

TW: It’s not as simple as a Carnapian tradition versus a Quine/Lewis tradition. For example, Lewis published work in a tradition of possible worlds semantics that goes back to Carnap, and was influenced by him in other ways too. Kripke and Stalnaker have a metaphysical conception of necessity quite alien to Carnap. But Quine and Lewis do share a fundamentally non-modal way of thinking about modality, which differentiates them from the others you mention.

Ruth Barcan Marcus was the first to publish (in 1946) a developed technical treatment of quantified modal logic within the framework of modern logic—of course the study of modal syllogisms goes back to Aristotle and was refined in the middle ages, but modern logic set new standards of rigour. In her work the Barcan formula emerges as a key axiom governing the interaction of modality and generality. Roughly, it says that if there could be something that meets a given condition then there is something that could meet that condition. For example, if there could be something that is a daughter of Wittgenstein, then there is something that could be a daughter of Wittgenstein. At first neither Barcan Marcus nor anyone else appreciated the metaphysical interest of the formula, in part because they were understanding possibility in a logical rather than metaphysical sense. Later, when Arthur Prior was working on quantified temporal logic, he saw the permanentism built into the Barcan formula and its converse in the temporal case, because there the intended readings of the modal operators were always metaphysical—in terms of past and future—rather than austerely logical. Once the metaphysical interest had been understood in the temporal case, that provided a template for understanding it in the modal case too, although that also required the development of a metaphysical conception of possibility and necessity. In her later work, Barcan Marcus makes some intriguing comments in that direction, but doesn’t develop them very far. Her technical work on quantified modal logic is proof-theoretic: she’s concerned to show what can (or occasionally can’t) be proved in a given axiomatic system. She doesn’t provide a semantics.

For the semantics of modal logic, at the time one had to go to Carnap, and in particular to his book Meaning and Necessity - A Study in Semantics and Modal Logic, which appeared in 1947.



Writing my book deepened my respect for Carnap. He’s easy to underestimate, because he writes in such an understated, unemphatic, colourless style, in which no hint of a literary flourish is allowed, as if his main purpose were to convince the reader that nothing of much interest is going on. I guess he regarded such a boring style as scientific. Nevertheless, he is in fact doing something very exciting, presenting a deeply considered formal semantics for a quantified modal language, way ahead of its time in its systematicity and rigour. He introduces an apparatus of possible worlds and individual concepts, inspired by Leibniz. Carnap points out that his semantics validates both the Barcan formula and its converse. Quine and his associates made some technical criticisms of Carnap’s approach, but they just don’t work. From a modern perspective, however, Carnap’s approach has turned out not to be terribly fruitful. His purely logical understanding of modal operators goes against the grain from a technical point of view, and his treatment of generalizations as ranging over concepts of individuals rather than individuals themselves left out many of the most interesting modal generalizations. In a sense, therefore, his work on the semantics of modal logic was something of a dead end, but it was a dead end that needed to be explored, given the state of knowledge at the time, and Meaning and Necessity set standards for later work on the semantics of modal logic to live up to.

The modern approach to modal logic first appears in a really clear form in the works of Saul Kripke around 1960. The way he presented matters then is much closer to the way they are presented now, fifty years later, than it is to the way Barcan Marcus or Carnap presented them fifteen years earlier. One thing Kripke did was to distinguish clearly between semantic models and the worlds within a given model, which formally speaking can be the members of any arbitrarily chosen set. That generality turned out to be exactly what was needed for the fruitful development of the model theory of modal logic as a technical discipline, basically a branch of mathematical logic. It has been a fantastic success story, with all sorts of applications outside philosophy as well as within, for example to linguistics and computer science. In my view, the achievements of the possible worlds approach in semantic model theory are vastly more impressive than its achievements in metaphysics. That raises an obvious question: what is the philosophical significance of possible worlds model theory? The question is surprisingly neglected, because philosophical discussion of possible worlds tends to take place at a rather ill-defined level, less abstract than model theory but more abstract than metaphysics. It’s another case in which skating over technicalities has in practice led to confusion rather than lucidity. In the book, I develop some precise connections between the model theory and the metaphysics. Kripke himself has been very sober about the philosophical significance of possible worlds, warning philosophers not to overestimate it. As well as finding the most fruitful approach to the model theory of modal logic, Kripke made another crucial contribution by distinguishing the sort of necessity that really matters for metaphysics from ideas like analyticity, logical truth, and a priori knowability. It is metaphysically necessary that Plato wasn’t Aristotle, because it could not have been otherwise, even though it isn’t analytic, logically true, or knowable a priori. Kripke’s model theory made room for the distinction. Because he separated generalizing over possible worlds in a model from generalizing over models themselves, unlike Carnap, he allowed models in which there are no worlds corresponding to logically consistent but metaphysically impossible scenarios such as ‘Plato = Aristotle’, and so didn’t have to model necessity as purely logical as Carnap had done.

As for Bob Stalnaker, two of his contributions are particularly relevant here. One is that he gave the classic statement of a metaphysical view of possible worlds that avoids Lewis’s modal realism and treats them as abstract rather than concrete. Another is that he recently published a considered defence of the combination of contingentism with higher-order contingentism that I mentioned earlier.

Someone else I should mention here is Kit Fine, who has done an enormous amount to work out the technical and philosophical underpinnings of different views of the metaphysics of modality. Once you start looking into the history, you realize just how many people have made significant contributions to the development of the subject. Obviously some contribute more than others, but it really is a collective enterprise.

3:AM: As an overview to your project, would it be fair to say that why you prefer the Carnapian approach is that it avoids straying like Lewis did into the territory of cosmology and the physicists? As such, is this your counterblast to the Quinean naturalist camp in philosophy, and a new line being drawn in the sand defending analytic metaphysics and showing why T-philosophy can answer those who would bury it?

TW: I start the preface to Modal Logic as Metaphysics by saying that the title will sound to some people like Good as Evil. Carnap would be a prime example. He was a pioneer of the semantics of modal logic, as I explained before, who wanted to keep metaphysics out of serious inquiry. I’m concerned with interpreting systems of modal logic as metaphysical theories. So I can hardly call my approach Carnapian. My objection to Lewis’s modal realism is not that it has connections with cosmology and physics, but that it is inconsistent with standard cosmological and physical theories, because it entails that there are parts of physical reality in which their principles fail. There’s nothing anti-naturalistic about that criticism of Lewis. Although Quine may have thought his aversion to modal thinking was naturalistic, it has no clear basis in scientific practice. Scientists who use the modal term ‘soluble’ don’t seem thereby to betray their calling. Indeed, one might think that part of the point of science is to gain knowledge of what is or isn’t physically possible for various things. Quine preferred first-order non-modal logic for logical reasons, not naturalistic ones. Lewis’s modal realism involved a reduction of modal logic to first-order non-modal logic.

But you’re right, I am proposing suitably interpreted systems of higher-order modal logic as an alternative paradigm for core metaphysical theories, with implications for the methodology of metaphysics. The appropriate methodology for choosing between such theories combines abduction and deduction, as with fundamental theories in mathematics, in a way I’ve already explained. If naturalists say that we should decide between modal logics on experimental grounds, I ask them what experiments would be relevant. I guess they could do surveys, asking people which principles of higher-order modal logic they accept. That would be as sensible as settling the axioms of set theory by opinion poll. I’m not drawing a line in the sand, though. I’m just pointing to an on-going enterprise in logic qua metaphysics and asking self-described naturalists how they would do better.

3:AM: And finally, for the metaphysically inclined readers here at 3:AM, are there five books you could recommend (other than your own) to help us go deeper into this philosophical territory?

TW: I’ll simply list the most relevant book by each of the five philosophers who play the largest roles in my story. They are: Rudolf Carnap, Meaning and Necessity: A Study in Semantics and Modal Logic; Saul Kripke, Naming and Necessity; Ruth Barcan Marcus, Modalities: Philosophical Essays; Kit Fine, Modality and Tense: Philosophical Papers; Robert Stalnaker, Mere Possibilities: Metaphysical Foundations of Modal Semantics.



ABOUT THE INTERVIEWER
Richard Marshall is still biding his time.