Month: September 2010

Why Philosophical Problems are Important

Philosophical problems are genuine intellectual knots that show us our intellectual exigency.  They humble us, whence their importance.  They rub our noses in the infirmity of reason.  The central problems are genuine and important but humanly insoluble. That is what two millenia of philosophical experience, East and West, teaches.  Their genuineness is wrongly denied by the Ordinary Language crowd; their spiritual importance by most analytic puzzle-solvers; their absolute insolubility by the optimistic pure theory types.

A Closer Look at Material Composition and Modal Discernibility Arguments

(For David Brightly, whom I hope either to convince or argue to a standoff.)

Suppose God creates ex nihilo a bunch of TinkerToy pieces at time t suitable for assembly into various (toy) artifacts such as a house and a fort.  A unique classical mereological sum — call it 'TTS' — comes into existence 'automatically' at the instant of the creation ex nihilo of the TT pieces. (God doesn't have to do anything in addition to creating the TT pieces to bring TTS into existence.)   Suppose further that God at t  assembles the TT pieces (adding nothing and subtracting nothing) into a house.  Call this object 'TTH.'  So far we have: the pieces, their sum, and the house.  Now suppose that at t* (later than t) God annihilates all of the TT pieces.  This of course annihilates TTS and TTH.  During the interval from t to t* God maintains TTH in existence.

I set up the problem this way so as to exclude 'historical' and nonmodal considerations and thus to make the challenge tougher for my side.  Note that TTH and TTS are spatially coincident, temporally coincident, and such that every nonmodal property of the one is also a nonmodal property of the other.  Thus they have the same size, the same shape, the same weight, etc.  Surely the pressure is on to say that TTH = TTS?  Surely my opponents will come at me with their battle-cry, 'No difference without a difference-maker!'  There is no constituent of TTH that is not also a constituent of TTS.  So what could distinguish them?

Here is an argument that TTH and TTS are not identical:

1. NecId:  If x = y, then necessarily, x = y. 

2. If it is possible that ~(x = y), then ~(x = y). (From 1 by Contraposition)

3. If it is possible that TTS is not TTH, then TTS is not TTH. (From 2, by Universal Instantiation) 

4. It is possible that TTS is not TTH.  (God might have assembled the parts into a fort instead of a house or might have left them unassembled.)

5. TTS is not TTH. (From 3, 4 by Modus Ponens)

The gist of the argument is that if x = y, then they are identical in every possible world in which both of them exist.  But there are possible worlds in which TTS and TTH both exist but are not identical. (E.g., a world in which the pieces are assembled into a fort instead of a house.)  Therefore, TTS andf TTH are not identical.

If you are inclined to reject the argument, you must tell me which premise you reject.  Will it be (1)? Or will it be (4)? 

Your move, David.

 

Of Haircuts, Amphibolies, and Maxims

I got my quarterly haircut the other day.  A neighbor remarked, "I see you got a haircut," to which I responded with the old joke, "I got 'em all cut."

In this as in so many other cases the humor derives from ambiguity, in this case amphiboly (syntactic ambiguity.)  The spoken 'I see you got a haircut' can be heard as 'I see you got a hair cut.'

The neighbor laughed at the joke, but I spared him the analysis, not to mention my theory of humor, both of which would have bored him.

Two relevant maxims: 'Tailor your discourse to your audience' and 'Among regular guys be a regular guy.'  And a meta-maxim: 'Step out of your house only with maxims at the ready.'

Reason, Passion, and Persuasion

1. The cogency of an argument is neither augmented nor diminished by the passion of the arguer.  Cogency and passion are logically independent.  The same goes for the truth or falsity of an assertion.  The raising of the voice cannot transform a false claim into a true one, nor make a true one truer.

2.  What's more, any display of a passion such as anger is likely to be taken by the interlocutor as a sign  that one's argument is nothing but an expression of passion and thus as no argument at all.  He will think your aim is to impose your will on him rather than appeal to his intellect.  The interlocutor will be wrong to dismiss your argument on this ground, but you have yourself to blame for losing your cool and failing to understand human nature.  If your aim is to convince someone of something, then you must attend  not only to your thesis and its rational support, but also to the limitations of human nature in general and the particular limitations of those you are addressing.  'Tailor your discourse to your audience' is a good maxim.

3.  While bearing in mind points 1 and 2, you must also realize that a failure to show enthusiasm and commitment may also work against your project of convincing the other. 

4.  'Rhetoric' is too often employed pejoratively.  That is unfortunate.  The art of persuasion is important but difficult to master.  It is not enough to know whereof you speak; you must understand human nature if you will impart your truths to an audience.

Logic’s Limit

Logic is not to be denigrated, nor is it to be overestimated. It is an excellent vehicle for safe travel among concepts and propositions. It will save us from many an error and perhaps even lead us to a few truths. But it cannot move us beyond the plane of concepts and propositions and arguments. It aids safe passage from thought to thought, but cannot  transport us beyond thought to the source of thoughts, to their thinker, the transcendental condition without which there would not be any thoughts.  It cannot transport us to the Transdiscursive.  For that a different vehicle is needed, meditation.

Fregean Propositions, Unmereological Compositions, and Bradley’s Regress

Steven Nemes writes and I respond in blue:

I know you're in a bit of a mereology phase at the moment, but I figured I'd shoot this by you.

Mereology is the theory of parts and wholes.  Now propositions, whether Fregean or Russellian, are wholes of parts.  So mereology is not irrelevant to questions about the nature and existence of propositions.  The relevance, though, appears to be negative:  propositions are unmereological compositions, unmereological wholes.  That is to say, wholes that cannot be understood in terms of classical mereology.  They cannot be understood in these terms because of the problem of the unity of the proposition.  The problem is to specify what it is about a proposition that distinguishes it from a mere aggregate of its constituents and enables it to be either true or false.  No constituent of an atomic proposition is either true or false, and neither the mathematical set, nor the mereological sum, of the constituents of any such proposition is true or false; so what is it that makes a proposition a truth-bearer?  If you say that a special unifying constituent within propositions does the job,then you ignite Bradley's regress.  Whether or not it is vicious is a further question.  Richard Gaskin maintains the surprising view that Bradley's regress is "the metaphysical ground of the unity of  the proposition."  Far from being vicious, Bradley's regress is precisely that which "guarantees our ability to say anything at all."

For more on this topic, see my "Gaskin on the Unity of the Proposition," Dialectica vol. 64, no. 2 (June 2010), 265-277.  It is part of a five article symposium on the topic.

I am not sure if you believe in Fregean propositions or not. As for myself, I don't look favorably upon the idea of Fregean propositions because of the problem of Bradley's regress. (I am assuming propositions would be composite structured entities, built out of ontologically more basic parts, maybe the senses of the individual terms of the sentences that expresses it, so that the proposition expressed by "Minerva is irate" is a structured entity composed of the senses of "Minvera", "irate", etc.)

I provisionally accept, but ultimately reject, Fregean propositions.  What the devil does that mean?  It means that I think the arguments for them are quite powerful, but that if our system contains an absolute mind, then we can and must reduce Fregean propositions to contents or accuusatives of said mind.  Doing so allows us to solve the problem of the unity of the proposition.

By the way, what you say in parentheses is accurate and lucid. 

In your book, you offer a theistic strategy for solving the problem of Bradley's regress as applied to facts. I don't know that a theistic solution to the problem as applied to propositions works as smoothly because of the queer sort of things senses of individual terms of sentences are supposed to be. The building blocks of facts are universals, which are somewhat familiar entities; but the building blocks of propositions are senses like "Minerva" which are murky and mysterious things indeed. What the hell kind of a thing is a sense anyway?

A sense is a semantic intermediary, an abstract 'third-world' object neither in the mind nor in the realm of concreta, posited to explain certain linguistic phenomena.  One is the phenomenon of informative identity statements.  How are they possible?  'George Orwell is Eric Blair'  is an informative identity statement, unlike 'George Orwell is George Orwell.' How can the first be informative, how can it have what Frege calls cognitive value (Erkenntniswert), when it appears to be of the form a = b, a form all of the substitution-instances of which are false?  Long story short, Frege distinguishes between the sense and the referent of expressions. Accordingly, 'George Orwell' and 'Eric Blair' differ in sense but have the same referent.  The difference in sense explains the informativeness of the identity statement while the sameness of referent explains its truth.

Further, propositions are supposed to be necessarily existent; hence the individual building blocks of the propositions must also exist necessarily. But how could the senses expressed by "Minerva" or "Heidegger's wife", for instance, exist when those individuals do not? (This is the same sort of argument you give against haecceity properties conceived of as non-qualitative thisnesses.)

If proper names such as 'Heidegger' have irreducibly singular Fregean senses, then, as you well appreciate, my arguments against haecceity properties (nonqualitative thisnesses) kick in.  It is particularly difficult to understand how a proper name could express an irreducibly singular Fregean sense when the name in question lacks a referent.  For if irreducibly singular, then the sense is not constructible from general senses by an analog of propositional conjunction.  So one is forced to say that the sense of 'Minerva' is the property of being identical to Minerva.  But since there is no such individual, there is no such property.  Identity-with-Minerva collapses into Identity-with- . . . nothing!  Pace Plantinga, of course.

In the case of identity-with-Heidegger, surely this property, if it exists at all, exists iff Heidegger does.  Given that Heidegger is a contingent being, his haecceity is as well.  And that conflicts with the notion that propositions are necessary beings.  Well, I suppose one could try the idea the some propositions are contingent beings.

Are there any solutions to the former problem (which you've blogged and written about before!) you think are promising? Further, what do you think of the second problem?

Perhaps you think the second problem can be sidestepped by saying that "Heidegger's wife" is just shorthand for some longer description, e.g. "the woman who was married to the man who wrote a book that began with the sentence '…'". I don't know that it is so easy, because that sentence itself makes reference to things that are contingently existent (women, men, books, sentences, marriage…).

Yes,all those things are contingent.  But that by itself does not cause a problem.  The problem is with the notion that proper names are definite descriptions in disguise.  If the very sense of 'Ben Franklin' is supplied by 'the inventor of bifocals' (to use Kripke's example), then the true 'Ben Franklin might not have invented bifocals' boils down to the necessarily false 'The inventor of bifocals might not have invented bifocals.'  (But note the ambiguity of the preceding sentence; I mean the definite description to be taken attributively not referentially.)

Hitchens on Mother Teresa’s Dark Night of the Soul

In some measure one must admire that professional contrarian, Christopher Hitchens, whose mind is incandescent in its brilliance, and whose speech is preternatural in its articulateness, and who has the audacity to go after anyone, including Mother Teresa. In a  piece in Newsweek he comments on her Dark Night of the Soul.

But what are his qualifications for such commentary?

Hitchens, like the other members of the 'Dawkins Gang' as I like to call them, does not have a religious bone in his body. He simply does not understand religion, and has no sympathy for it, so much so that he must dismiss it as nonsense.

Lack of religious sensibility is like lack of aesthetic sensibility.  There are people who lack entirely any feel for poetry and music. They lack the 'spiritual organ' to appreciate them, and so their comments on them are of little interest except as indicative of the critics' own limitations. Others are bereft of philosophical sensibility.  I have met mathematicians and scientists who have zero philosophical aptitude and sense and for whom philosophy cannot be anything other than empty verbiage. These people do not lack intelligence, they lack a certain 'spiritual organ,' a certain depth of personality. And of course there are those with no inkling of the austere beauty of mathematics and logic and (let's not leave out) chess. To speak of their beauty to such people would be a waste of time. They lack the requisite appreciative organs.

Hitchens, who remains a man of the Left in his total lack of understanding of religion, doesn't seem to appreciate that Teresa was a mystic and that her dark night of the soul was not a crisis of faith, where faith is construed as intellectual assent to certain dogmas, but an experiencing of the divine withdrawal, an experiencing of God as deus absconditus. A believing non-mystic might lose his faith after applying his reason to his religion's dogmatic content and then finding it impossible rationally to accept. Although I haven't read Teresa's letters, I suspect that this is not what happened in her case. After the fullness of her mystical experience, she experienced desolation when the mystical experiences subsided. So, contra   Hitchens, it was not a realization of the "crushing unreasonableness"  of Roman Catholic dogma that triggered Teresa's dark night, but her experience of the divine absence, an absence that is an expression of the divine transcendence.

I suggest that an atheist like Hitchens, for whom theism is simply not a live existential option, cannot understand the spititual life of a person like Mother Teresa. He can understand it only by caricaturing
it.

And the same goes for the whole gang (Dawkins,Dennett, Hitchens, Harris.)

Varzi, Sums, and Wholes

Achille C. Varzi, "The Extensionality of Parthood and Composition," The Philosophical Quarterly 58 (2008), p. 109:

Suppose we have a house made of Tinkertoy pieces.  Then the house qualifies as a sum of those pieces: each piece is part of the house and each part of the house overlaps at least one of the pieces . . . . Are there other things that qualify as the sums of those pieces?  UC says there aren't; the house is the only candidate: it is the sum of those pieces.

UC is Uniqueness of Composition: 

UC  If x and y are sums of the same things, then x = y,

where

(1) x is a sum of the zs =df The zs are all parts of x and every part of x has a part in common with at least one ofthe zs. 

Perhaps commenter John, who knows some mereology and the relevant literature on material composition, can help me understand this.  What I don't understand is what entitles Varzi to assume that the Tinkertoy house — 'TTH' to give it a name — is identical to a classical mereological sum.  I do not deny that there is a sum of the parts of TTH.  And I do not doubt that this sum is unique.  Let us name this sum 'TTS.'  (I assume that names are Kripkean rigid designators.)  What I do not understand is the justification of the assumption, made near the beginning of his paper, of the identity of TTH and TTS.  TTH is of course a whole of parts.  But it doesn't straightaway follow that TTH is a sum of parts.

Please note that 'sum' is a technical term, one whose meaning is exactly the meaning it derives from the definitions and axioms of classical mereology.  'Whole' is a term of ordinary language whose meaning depends on context.  It seems to me that one cannot just assume that a given whole of parts is identical to a mereological sum of those same parts.

I am not denying that it might be useful for some purposes  to think of material objects like TTH as sums, but by the same token it might be useful to think of material objects as (mathematical)  sets of their parts.  But surely it would be a mistake to identify TTH with a set of its parts.  For one thing, sets are abstract while material objects are concrete.  For another, proper parthood is transitive while set-theoretic elementhood is not transitive. 

Of course, sums are not sets.  A sum of concreta is itself concrete whereas a set of concreta is itself abstract.  My point is that, just as we cannot assume that that TTH is identical to a set, we cannot assume that TTH is identical to a sum.

What is the 'dialectical situation' when it comes to the dispute between those who maintain that TTH = TTS and those who deny this identity?

It seems to me that the burden of proof rests on those who, like Varzi, identify material objects like TTH with sums especially given the arguments against the identity.  Here is one argument. (a) Taking TTH apart would destroy it, (b) but would not destroy TTS.  Therefore, (c) TTH is not identical to TTS.  This argument relies on the wholly unproblematic Indiscernibility of Identicals as a tacit premise:  If x = y, then whatever is true of x is true of y, and vice versa.  Because something is true of TTH — namely, that taking it apart would destroy it — that is not true of TTS, TTH cannot be identical to TTS.

The simplicity and clarity of modal discernibility arguments like this one cast grave doubt on the opening assumption that TTH is a sum.  I am not saying that Varzi and Co. have no response to the argument; they do.  My point is that their response comes too late dialectically speaking.  If you know what a sum is, you know that the identity is dubious from the outset: the discernibility arguments merely make the dubiousness explicit. Responding to these arguments strikes me as too little too late; what the identity theorist needs to do is justify his intitial assumption as soon as he makes it.

My main question, then, is this.  What justifies the initial assumption that material particulars such as Tinkertoy houses are mereological sums?  It cannot be that they are wholes of parts, for a whole needn't be a sum.  TTH is a whole but it is not a sum.  It is not a sum because a sum is a collection that is neutral with respect to the arrangement or interrelation of its parts, whereas it is essential to TTH that its parts be arranged house-wise.