On the Use and Mention of Cartoons and Other Images

I had a new thought this morning, new for me anyway.  It occurred to me that the familiar use-mention distinction can and should be applied to images, including cartoons.  I recently posted a pornographic Charlie Hebdo cartoon that mocks in the most vile manner imaginable the Christian Trinity.  A reader suggested that I merely link to it.  But I wanted people to see how vile these nihilistic Charlie Hebdo porno-punks are and why it is a mistake to stand up for free speech by lying down with them, and with other perpetual adolescents of their ilk.  Those who march under the banner Je Suis Charlie (I am Charlie) are not so much defending free speech as advertising their sad lack of understanding as to why it is accorded the status of a right.

So it occurred to me that the use-mention distinction familiar to philosophers could be applied to a situation like this.  To illustrate the distinction, consider the sentences

'Nigger' is disyllabic.
The use of 'nigger,' like the use of 'kike' is highly offensive.
Niggers and kikes are often at one another's throats.

In the first two sentences, 'nigger' and 'kike' are mentioned, not used; in the third sentence, 'nigger' and 'kike' are used, not mentioned. 

Please note that nowhere in this post do I use 'nigger' or 'kike.' 

I chose these examples to explain the use-mention distinction in order to maintain the parallel between offensive words and offensive pictures. 

Suppose someone asserts the first two sentences but not the third.  No reasonable person could take offense at what the person says.  For what he would be saying is true.  But someone who asserts the third sentence could be reasonably taken to have said something offensive.

Jerry Coyne concludes a know-nothing response to a review by Alvin Plantinga of a book by Philip Kitcher with this graphic:

Alvin Chipmunk

 Coyne added a caption: AL-vinnn!  Those of a certain age will understand the caption from the old Christmas song by the fictitious group, Alvin and the Chipmunks, from 1958. ( A real period piece complete with a reference to a hula hoop.)

Here's my point.  Coyne uses the image to the left to mock Plantinga whereas I merely display it, or if you will, mention it (in an extended sense of 'mention') in order to say something about the image itself, namely, that it is used by the benighted Coyne to mock Plantinga and his views.

No one could reasonably take offense at my reproduction of the image in the context of the serious points I am making.

 

 

Likewise, no one could reasonably take offense at my reproduction of the following graphic which I display here, not to mock the man Muslims consider to be a messenger of the god they call Allah, but simply to display the sort of image they find offensive, and that I  too find offensive, inasmuch as it mocks religion, a thing not to be mocked, even if the religion in question is what Schopenhauer calls "the  saddest and poorest form of theism." 

By the way,  journalists should know better than to refer to Muhammad as 'The Prophet.' Or do they also refer to Jesus as 'The Savior' or 'Our Lord' or 'Son of God'?

Ready now?  This is what CNN wouldn't show you.  Hardly one of the more offensive of the cartoons.  They wouldn't show it lest Muslims take offense. 

My point, again, is that merely showing what some benighted people take offense at is not to engage in mockery or derision or any other objectively offensive behavior.

 

Cops, Muslims, and a Double Standard

Suppose there are two groups, the As and the Bs.  Some of the As are really bad actors.  And some of the Bs are as well. But most of the members of both groups are tolerably well-behaved.  Suppose there is a third group, the Cs.  Some of the Cs comment on the bad behavior of the bad actors among the As and the Bs.  But they comment in two very different ways.  These commenting Cs  attribute the bad behavior of the bad actors among the As to their being As,while they attribute the bad behavior of the bad actors among the Bs, not to their being Bs, but to factors that have nothing to do with their being Bs. The commentators among the Cs can be said to apply a double standard in respect of the As and the Bs as regards the etiology of their bad behavior.  They employ one standard of explanation for the As, a different one for the Bs.

That's the schema, presented schematically.  Instances of the schema are not hard to locate.

Consider cops, Muslims, and lefties. (Some leftists will complain about 'leftie' which I admit is slightly derisive.  But these same people do not hesitate to refer to conservatives as teabaggers, right-wing nutjobs, etc., terms which are not just slightly derisive.  Here then is another double standard.  "We can apply any epithet we like to you, but you must always show us respect!"  But I digress.)

So you've got your cops, your Muslims, and your lefties.  The behavior of bad cops — and there are such without a doubt — is said by many lefties to derive from something 'institutional' or 'systemic' such as 'systemic racism.'  Cops are racists qua cops, if not by nature, then by their professional acculturation in 'racist Amerika.'  But the bad behavior of some Muslims, such as committing mass murder by driving jumbo jets into trade towers, or slaughtering those, such as the Charlie Hebdo porno-punks, who 'diss' their prophet, does not derive from anything having to do with Muslims qua Muslims such as their adherence to Muslim beliefs. A spectacular example is the case of Nidal Malik Hasan, the 2009 Fort Hood shooter who killed 13 people and wounded many more.  His deed was dismissed by the Obama Administration as 'work place violence' when it was quite clearly a terrorist act motivated  by Islamist beliefs.  Wikipedia:

Once, while presenting what was supposed to be a medical lecture to other psychiatrists, Hasan talked about Islam, and said that, according to the Koran, non-believers would be sent to hell, decapitated, set on fire, and have burning oil poured down their throats. A Muslim psychiatrist in the audience raised his hand, and challenged Hasan's claims.[113] According to the Associated Press, Hasan's lecture also "justified suicide bombings."[114] In the summer of 2009, after completion of his programs, he was transferred to Fort Hood.

So here we have a double standard, an unjustified double standard. (Are double standards by definition unjustified?  This is something to explore.)

Of course, there is a lot more to be said on this delightful topic.  For example, police brutality does not derive from the professional training that cops receive.  They are not trained to hunt down and kill "unarmed black teenagers" who are harmlessly walking down the street or "children" on the way to the candy store.  But Muslim terrorism does derive from Muslim teachings.  Not all Muslims are terrorists, of courses, but the terrorism of those Muslims who are terrorists is not accidental to their being Muslims.

Note the difference between

A Muslim who is a terrorist is not a true Muslim

and

A cop who is corrupt is not a true cop.

The first sentence is a clear example of the the No True Scotsman Fallacy.  The second is not.  Why not? Well, there is nothing in the cop-role that requires that a person who plays that role be corrupt.  Quite to the contrary. But there is something in the Muslim-role, or at least the Muslim-role as presented by many teachers of Islam,  that requires that players of this role make jihad against the infidel.

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Sartorial Songs

In Chapter 42 of his Essays, Montaigne remarks that

We praise a horse for its strength and speed, not on account of its harness; a greyhound for its swiftness and not its collar; a hawk for its wing and not for its jesses and bells. Why then do we not value a man for what is his? . . . If you bargain over a horse, you remove its trappings, you see it bare and uncovered . . . . Why, when estimating a man, do you estimate him all wrapped and muffled up? . . . We must judge him by himself, not by his attire. (Tr. E. J. Trechmann)

I am tempted to agree by saying what I once said to my mother when she told me that clothes make the man, namely, that if clothes make the man, then the kind of man that clothes make is not the kind of man I want to be. (Women are undeniably more sensitive than men to the fact that the world runs on appearances. They have a deep intuitive understanding of the truth that the Germans express when they say, Der Schein regiert die Welt.)

But there is another side to the problem, one that the excellent Montaigne ignores. A horse does not choose its bit and harness, but has them imposed on it. A man, however, chooses how he will appear to his fellows, and so choosing makes a statement as to his values and disvalues. It follows that there is some justification in judging by externals. For the externals we choose, unlike the externals imposed on a horse, are defeasible indicators of what is internal. In the case of human beings, the external is not merely external: the external is also an expression of the internal. Our outer trappings express our attitudes and beliefs, our allegiances and alignments.

But enough philosophy!  On to some tunes.  We get things off to a rousing start this fine Saturday evening with

ZZ Top, Sharp-Dressed Man.  This one goes out to Mike Valle who is definitely strutting his sartorial stuff these days.

Bobby Whitlock and Eric Clapton, Bell Bottom Blues.  Sticking with the 'blue' theme:

Bobby Vinton, Blue Velvet.  Check out the Lana Del Rey version.  And of course, this from the moody & mesmerizing David Lynch flick.

Carl Perkins, Blue Suede Shoes.  The Perry Como Show (sic!), 1956.

Mitch Ryder, Devil with the Blue Dress On

Jimmy Clanton, Venus in Blue Jeans, 1962

Bob Dylan, Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat

Nanci Griffith, Boots of Spanish Leather

Del Shannon, Hats Off to Larry

Bobby Bare, Long Black Veil

Jane Russell, Buttons and Bows

Johnny Cash, Man in Black

Big Bopper, Chantilly Lace, 1958

But:

Can you judge a man by the way he wears his hair?
Can you read his mind, by the clothes that he wears?
Can you see a bad man by the pattern on his tie?
Then Mr. You're a Better Man Than I!

Peter van Inwagen, “A Theory of Properties,” Exposition and Critique

This entry is a summary and critique of  Peter van Inwagen's "A Theory of Properties," an article which first appeared in 2004 and now appears as Chapter 8 of his Existence: Essays in Ontology (Cambridge University Press, 2014, pp. 153-182.)  Andrew Bailey has made it available on-line. (Thanks Andrew!)  I will be quoting from the Existence volume.  I will also be drawing upon material from other articles in this collection. This post is a warm-up for a review of the book by me commissioned by a European journal. The review wants completing by the end of February.  Perhaps you can help me. Comments are enabled for those who know this subject.

Exposition

1. The Abstract and the Concrete. 

Van Inwagen 2Platonism is "the thesis that there are abstract objects." (153)  Van Inwagen uses 'object' synonomously with 'thing,' 'item,' and 'entity.' (156)  Everything is an object, which is to say: everything exists.  Thus there are no nonexistent objects, pace Meinong.  There are two categories of object, the abstract and the concrete.  These categories are mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive.  Thus for any  x, x is either abstract or concrete, but not both, and not neither. Van Inwagen is a bit  coy when it comes to telling us what 'abstract' and concrete' mean; he prefers a roundabout way of introducing these terms.  He stipulates that the terms and predicates of ordinary, scientific, and philosophical discourse can be divided  into two mutually exclusive and jointly exhaustive classes. The denotata of the members of these two classes of terms and predicates, if they have denotata, are concrete and abstract objects.  Thus 'table,' 'God,' and 'intelligent Martian,' if they pick out anything, pick out concreta, while 'number,' 'the lion,' (as in 'The lion is of the genus Felis') and 'sentence' (as in 'The same sentence can express different propositions in different contexts'), pick out abstracta. (154) (See footnote * below)

Van Inwagen holds that platonism is to  be avoided if at all possible.  On platonism, there are abstract objects.  This characteristic thesis does not entail, but it is consistent with, the proposition that there are also concrete objects.  Van Inwagen is a platonist who accepts both abstract and concrete objects but thinks we would be better of if we could avoid commitment to abstract objects.  Why?  Well, apart from considerations of parsimony, the difference between members of the two categories is abysmal (my word): "the differences between God and this pen pale into insignificance when they are compared with the differences between this pen and the number 4 . . . ." (156)  Such a radical difference is puzzling.  So it would be preferable if the category of abstracta were empty.  That the category of concreta cannot be empty is obvious: we know ourselves to be concreta. (157) Van Inwagen goes on to belabor the point that the things we can say about concrete things are practically endless, while little can be said about abstracta.

In short, reality, unlike ancient Gaul, "is divided into two parts . . . ." (158, emphasis added). The two parts of reality are radically disjoint.  Everything is either abstract or concrete, nothing is both, and nothing is neither.  Among the abstracta are instantiated properties.  Instantiation or 'having' would seem to forge a connection between the disjoint realms.  But the instantiation relation is "abstract and external." (206, 242)  So it too resides in the realm of abstracta and hence (as it seems to me) does nothing to mitigate the radical dualism or span the abyss that yawns between reality's two parts.  So if we could eke by without abstracta, that would be preferable.  But we cannot manage without them, says van Inwagen. (158)

2. Why We Need Abstract Objects. 

The short reason is that we need them because we need properties, and properties are one sort of abstract object, along with propositions and "proper relations." (240) A proper relation is a relation whose adicity is two or more; van Inwagen thinks of properties as one-place relations and propositions as zero-place relations. Every abstract object is a relation (a relation-in-intension) in the broad or improper sense, and everything else is a substance, a concrete object. (239)

But why do we need properties?  We need properties because things have common features.  The class of humans, for example, has something in common.  This appears to be an existential claim: there is something, humanity, that the members of this class share.  Platonists take the appearance at face value while nominalists maintain that the appearance is a mere appearance such that in reality there are no properties.  How do we decide the issue that divides the platonists and the nominalists?  Here van Inwagen is referring to what he calls "austere" nominalists, the nominalists more standardly called extreme: those who deny that there are properties at all.  There are also the nominalists van Inwagen calls "luxuriant" nominalists, the ones more standardly called moderate: those who admit the existence of tropes or individual accidents or particularized properties. (203, 203 fn 5)  The extreme nominalist denies that there are properties at all — a lunatic view if I may inject my opinion — while the moderate nominalists admit properties but deny that they are universals.  Platonists are not austere nominalists because they accept properties; they are not luxuriant nominalists because they accept universals.

3. Van Inwagen's Method. 

The method derives from Quine.  We start with the beliefs we already have, couched in the sentences we already accept.  We then see if these sentences commit us to properties.  We do this by translating these sentences into "the canonical language of quantification." (160)  If we need to quantify over properties for the sentences we accept as true to count as true, then we are ontologically committed to the existence of properties.  If, on the other hand, we can 'paraphrase away' the apparent reference to properties in the sentences we accept that appear to refer to properties, then the ontological commitment is merely apparent.

Van Inwagen's main idea here is that our discourse commits us to quantification over properties, and thus to the existence of properties.  We deduce the existence of properties from certain sentences we accept.  The argument is not epistemological: it does not seek to provide evidence for the existence of properties.  Nor is it transcendental, or an inference to the best explanation. (167)  The operative methodological principle, if there is one, is only this:  "if one does not believe that things of a certain sort exist, one shouldn't say anything that demonstrably  implies that things of that sort exist." (167) 

Example. We accept 'Spiders share some of the anatomical features of insects.'  (159) This says nothing different from 'There are anatomical features that insects have and spiders also have.'  This then is translated into canonical English.  I will spare you the rigmarole.  The upshot is that there are anatomical features.  Hence there are properties.

The most promising way of rebutting platonism so derived is by finding a paraphrase of the original sentence that says the same thing but does not even seem to commit its acceptor to properties.  (The nominalists would of course have to do this for every sentence proposed by  platonists that supposedly commits its users to abstracta.) Van Inwagen, predictably, argues against the paraphrastic way out. Nominalist paraphrases are not to be had. (164-167)

4. Van Inwagen's Theory of Properties.

Given that there are properties, what are they like?  What are the properties of properties? To specify them is the task of a theory of properties. What follows is my list, not his, but gleaned from what he writes.  Properties are

a. abstract objects, as we have already seen.  As abstract, properties are non-spatiotemporal and causally inert. (207) Better: abstract objects are categorially such as to be neither causally active nor causally passive.

b. universals, as we have already gleaned, with the exception of haecceities such as the property of being identical to Plantinga. (180)  Van Inwagen has no truck with tropes. (241) See my Peter van Inwagen's Trouble with Tropes.

c. the entities that play the property role.  And what role would that be? This is the role "thing that can be said of something."  It is a special case of the role "thing that can be said." (175)  Properties are things that can be said of or about something.  Propositions are things that can be said, period, or full stop.

d. unsaturated assertibles.  Things that can be said are assertibles.  They are either unsaturated, in which case they are properties, or saturated, in which case they are propositions. 

e. necessary beings. (207)

f. not necessarily instantiated.  Many properties exist uninstantiated.

g. not all of them instantiable.  Some unsaturated assertibles are necessarily uninstantiated, e.g., what is said of x if one says 'x is both round and square.'

h. such that the usual logical operations apply to them. (176)  Given any two assertibles, whether saturated or unsaturated, there is 'automatically' their conjunction and their disjunction.  Given any one assertible, there is 'automatically' its negation. 

i. abundant, not sparse.  There is a property corresponding to almost every one-place open sentence with a precise meaning. The 'almost' alludes to a variant of Russell's paradox that van Inwagen is fully aware of but that cannot be discussed here. (243)  Thus, contra David Armstrong, it is not the task of what the latter calls "total [empirical] science" to determine what properties there are.  Perhaps we could say that properties for van Inwagen are logical fallout from one-place predicates. (My phrase)  But since properties are necessary beings, there are all the properties there might have been; hence they 'outrun' actual one-place predicates. (My way of putting it.)

j. not parts or constituents in any sense of the concrete things that have them.  Indeed, it makes no sense to say that an assertible is a part of a concrete object.  And although properties or unsaturated assertibles are universals, it makes no sense that such an item is 'wholly present' in concrete objects. (178) Concrete things are 'blobs' in David Armstrong's sense.  They lack ontological structure. "Their only constituents are their parts, their parts in the strict and mereological sense." (243)

k. not more basic ontologically than the things whose properties they are. A concrete thing is not a bundle or cluster of properties.  The very suggestion is senseless on van Inwagen's scheme.  A property is an unsaturated assertible.  It is very much like a Fregean (objective) concept or Begriff, even though van Inwagen does not say this in so many words.  (But his talk of unsaturatedness points us back to Frege.) Clearly it would be senseless to think of a dog as a bundle of Fregean concepts.  That which can be truly said of a thing like a dog, that it is furry, for example, is no part of the critter. (178-79)

I should point out that while talk of saturated and unsaturated assertibles conjures the shade of Frege, van Inwagen has no truck with Frege's concept-object dichotomy according to which no concept is an object, no object is a concept, and the concept horse is not a concept.  You could say, and I mean no disrespect, that he 'peters out' with respect to this dichotomy: "I do not understand the concept-object distinction. The objects I call properties are just that: objects." (206, fn 11)

l. are not objects of sensation. (179)   To put it paradoxically, and this is my formulation, not van Inwagen's, such perceptual properties as being blue and being oval in shape are not perceptible properties.  One can see that a coffee cup is blue, but one cannot literally see the blueness of the coffee cup.

Critique

My readers will know that almost everything (of a substantive and controversial nature) that van Inwagen maintains, I reject and for reasons that strike me as good.  Ain't philosophy grand?

1. Perceivability

Blue cupI'll begin the critique with the last point. "We never see properties, although we see that certain things have certain properties." (179)  If van Inwagen can 'peter out,' so can I: I honestly don't know what to make of the second  clause of the quoted sentence.  I am now, with a brain properly caffeinated, staring at my blue coffee cup in good light.  Van Inwagen's claim is that I do not see the blueness of the cup, though I do see that the cup is blue.  Here I balk.  If I don't see blueness, or blue, when I look at the cup, how can I see (literally see, with the eyes of the head, not the eye of the mind) that the cup is blue?

'That it is blue' is a thing that can be said of the cup, and said with truth.  This thing that can be said is an unsaturated assertible, a property in van Inwagen's sense.  Van Inwagen is telling us that it cannot be seen. 'That the cup is blue' is a thing that can be said, full stop.  It is a saturated assertible, a proposition, and a true one at that.  Both assertibles are abstract objects.  Both are invisible, and not  because of any limitation in my visual power or in human visual power in general, but because abstract objects cannot be terms of causal relations, and perception involves causation. Both types of assertible are categorially disbarred from visibility. But if both the property and the proposition are invisible, then how can van Inwagen say that "we see that certain things have certain properties"?  What am I missing?

How can he say that we don't see the property but we do see the proposition?  Both are abstract and invisible.  How is it that we can see the second but not the first?  Either we see both or we see neither.  If van Inwagen says that we don't see the proposition, then what do we see when we see that the cup is blue?  A colorless cup?  A cup that is blue but is blue in a way different from the way the cup is blue by instantiatiating the abstract unsaturated assertible expressed by 'that it is blue'?  But then one has duplicated at the level of abstracta the property that one sees at the concrete cup.  If there is blueness at the cup and abstract blueness in Plato's heaven, why do we need the latter? Just what is going on here?

To van Inwagen's view one could reasonably oppose the following view.  I see the cup (obviously!) and I see blueness at the cup (obviously!)  I don't see a colorless cup.  To deny the three foregoing sentences would be to deny what is phenomenologically given.  What I don't literally see, however, is that the cup is blue.   (Thus I don't literally see what van Inwagen says we literally see.)  For to see that the cup is blue is to see the instantiation of blueness by the cup.  And I don't see that.  The correlate of the 'is' in 'The cup is blue' is not an object of sensation.  If you think it is, tell me how I can single it out, how I can isolate it.  Where in the visual field is it?  The blueness is spread out over the visible surfaces of the cup.  The cup is singled out as a particular thing on the desk, next to the cat, beneath the lamp, etc.  Now where is the instantiation relation?  Point it out to me!  You won't be able to do it.  I see the cup, and I see blue/blueness where the cup is.  I don't see the cup's BEING blue.

It is also hard to understand how van Inwagen, on his own assumptions, can maintain that we see that certain things have certain properties.  Suppose I see that Max, a cat of my acquaintance, is black.  Do I see a proposition?  Not on van Inwagen's understanding of 'proposition.'  His propositions are Fregean, not Russellian: they are not resident in the physical world.  Do I see a proposition-like entity such as an Armstrongian state of affairs?  Again, no.  What do I see?

Van Inwagen claims that properties are not objects of sensation; no properties are, not even perceptual properties.  I should think that some properties are objects of sensation, or better, of perception: I perceive blueness at the cup by sight; I perceive smoothness and hardness and heat at the cup by touch.  If so, then (some) properties are not abstract objects residing in a domain unto themselves.

Van Inwagen's view appears to have the absurd consequence that things like coffee cups are colorless.  For if colors are properties (179) and properties are abstract objects, and abstract objects are colorless (as they obviously are), then colors are colorless, and whiteness is not white and blueness is not blue.  Van Inwagen bites the bullet and accepts the consequence.  But we can easily run the argument in reverse:  Blueness is blue; colors are properties; abstract objects are colorless; ergo, perceptual properties are not abstract objects.  They are either tropes or else universals wholly present in the things that have them.  Van Inwagen, a 'relation ontologist' cannot of course allow this move into 'constituent ontology.'

There is a long footnote on p. 242 that may amount to a response to something like my objection.  In the main text, van Inwagen speaks of "such properties as are presented to our senses as belonging to the objects we sense . . . ."  How does this square with the claim on p. 179 that properties are not objects of sensation?  Can a property such as blueness be presented to our senses without being an object of sensation?  Apparently yes, "In a noncausal sense of 'presented.'" (243, fn 3)

How does this solve the  problem?  It is phenomenologically evident that (a definite shade of) blue appears to my senses when I stare at my blue coffee cup. Now if this blueness is an abstract object as van Inwagen claims then it cannot be presented to my senses any more than it can be something with which I causally interact.

2. But Is This Ontology?

Why does van Inwagen think he is doing ontology at all?  It looks more like semantics or philosophical logic or philosophy of language.  I say this because van Inwagen's assertibles are very much like Fregean senses. They are intensional items. (As we noted, he reduces all his assertibles to relations-in-intension.) Taking his cue from Quine, he seeks an answer to the question, What is there?  He wants an inventory, by category, of what there is.  He wants to know, for example, whether in addition to concrete things there are also properties, as if properties could exist in sublime disconnection from concrete things in a separate sphere alongside this sublunary sphere.  That no property is an object of sensation is just logical fallout from van Inwagen's decision to install them in Plato's heaven; but then their connection to things here below in space and time become unintelligible.  It does no good, in alleviation of this unintelligibility, to say that abstract blueness — the unsaturated assertible expressed by 'that it is blue' — is instantiated by my  blue cup.  For instantiation is just another abstract object, a dyadic external relation, itself ensconced in Plato's heaven.

But not only the formulation of the question but also the method of attack come from Quine.  Van Inwagen thinks he can answer what he and Quine idiosyncratically call the ontological question by examining the ontological commitments of our discourse.  Starting with sentences we accept as true, he looks to see what these sentences entail as regards the types of entity there are when the sentences are properly regimented in accordance with the structures of modern predicate logic with identity.

The starting point is not things in their mind- and language-independent being, but beliefs we already have and sentences we already accept.  The approach is oblique, not direct; subjective, not objective.  Now to accept a sentence is to accept it as true; but a sentence accepted as true need not be true.  Note also that if one sentence entails another, both can be false.  So if sentences accepted as true entail the existence of properties in van Inwagen's sense, according to which properies are unsaturated assertibles, it is logically possible that there be no properties in reality.  The following is not a contradiction:  The sentences we accept as true entail that there are properties & There are no properties.  For it may be — it is narrowly-logically possible that –  the sentences we accept as true that entail that there are properties are all of them false.  Not likely, of course, and there may be some retorsive argument against this  possibility.  But it cannot be ruled out by logic alone.

So there is something fishy about the whole method of 'ontological' commitment. One would have thought that ontology is concerned with the Being of beings, not with the presuppositions of sentences accepted as true by us.  To put it vaguely, there is something 'transcendental' (in the Kantina sense) and 'subjective' and 'modern' about van Inwagen's Quinean method that unsuits it for for something that deserves to be called ontology.

This is connected with the point that van Inwagen's assertibles, saturated and unsaturated, are hard to distinguish from Fregean senses.  They are denizens of Frege's Third Reich or Third World if you will, not his First Reich, the realm of primary reference.  To illustrate: Venus is an item in the First World, while the senses of 'Morning Star' and 'Evening Star'  and the sense of the sentence 'The Morning Star is the Evening Star' are three items all in the Third World.  Senses, however, are logico-semantic items: their job is to mediate reference.  Van Inwagen is arguably just hypostatizing items that are needed for us to secure reference — whether thinking reference or linguistic reference — to things that truly exist extramentally and extralinguistically.

Again, this is vague and sketchy.  But good enough for a weblog entry!  Is think my Czech scholastic friends will know what I am driving at.

3. Van Inwagen's Ostrich Realism and Commitment to Bare Particulars

Van Inwagen rejects both extreme and moderate nominalism.  So he can't possibly be an ostrich nominalist.  He is, however, as he himself appreciates, an ostrich realist or ostrich platonist. (214-15)

Suppose Max is black. What explains the predicate's being true of Max?   According to the ostrich nominalist, nothing does.   It is just true of him.  There is nothing in or about Max that serves as the ontological ground of the correctness of his satisfying  the predicate.  Now 'F' is true of a iff 'a is F' is true.  So we may also ask: what is the ontological ground of the truth of 'Max is black'?  The ostrich reply will be: nothing.  The sentence is just true.  There is no need for a truth-maker.

The ostrich realist/platonist says something very similar except that in place of predicates he puts abstract properties, and in place of sentences he puts abstract propositions.  In virtue of what does Max instantiate blackness? In virtue of nothing.  He just instantiates it.  Nothing explains why the unsaturated assertible expressed by 'x is black' is instantiated by Max.  Nothing explains it because there is nothing to explain.  And nothing explains why the saturated assertible expressed by 'Max is black' is true. Thus there is nothing concrete here below that could be called a state of affairs in anything like Armstrong's sense.  There is in the realm of concreta no such item as Max-instantiating-blackness, or the concrete fact of Max's being black

Here below there is just Max, and up yonder in a topos ouranos are 'his' properties (the abstract unsaturated assertibles that he, but not solely, instantiates).  But then Max is a bare particular in one sense of this phrase, though not in Gustav Bergmann's exact sense of the phrase.  (Bergmann is a constituent ontologist.) In what sense, then?

A bare particular is not a particular that has no properties in any sense of 'having properties'; a bare particular is a particular that has properties, but has them  in a certain way: by being externally related to them.  Thus bare particulars, unlike Aristotelean substances, have neither natures nor essences.  Indeed, the best way to understand what a bare particular is is by contrast with the primary substances of Aristotle. These concrete individuals have natures by being (identically) natures: they are not externally related to natures that exist serenely and necessarily in Plato's heaven.  

In this sense, van Inwagen's concrete things are bare particulars.  There are no properties 'in' or 'at' Max; there are no properties where he is and when he is.  What's more, on van Inwagen's scheme — one he shares with Chisholm, Plantinga, et al. — Max can only be externally related to his properties.  This has the consequence that all of Max's properties are accidental.  For if x, y are externally related, then x can exist without y and y can exist without x.  So Max can exist without being feline just as he can exist without being asleep. 

Could Max have been a poached egg?  It is narrowly-logically possible.  For if he has all of his properties externally, then he has all of his properties accidentally.  Even if it is necessary that he have some set of properties or other, there is no necessity that he have any particular set.  If properties are externally related to particulars, then any particular can have any set of properties so long as it has some set or other.

If you deny that concrete things are bare in the sense I have explained, then you seem to be committed to saying that there are two sorts of properties, PvI-properties in Plato's heaven and 'sublunary' properties at the particulars here below.  But then I will ask two questions.  First, what is the point of introducing PvI-properties if they merely duplicate at the abstract intensional level the 'real' properties in the sublunary sphere?  Second, what justifies calling PvI-properties properties given that you still are going to need 'sublunary' properties to avoid saying that van Inwagen's concreta are bare particulars?

4. Existence

One can say of a thing that it might not have existed.  For example, I can say this of myself.  If so, it must be possible to say of a thing that it exists.  For example, it must be possible for me to say of myself that I exist.  As van Inwagen remarks, "it is hard to see how there could be such an assertible as 'that it might not have existed' if there were no such assertible as 'that it exists.'" (180)  Existence, then, is a property, says van Inwagen, for properties are unsaturated assertibles, and 'that it exists' is an assertible.

There are many problems with the notion that existence is a first-level property on a van Inwagen-type construal of properties.  Instantiation for van Inwagen is a full-fledged dyadic relation. (It is not a non-relational tie or Bergmannian nexus).  He further characterizes it as abstract and external as we have seen.  Now it is perfectly obvious to me that the very existence of Socrates cannot consist in his instantiation of any PvI-type property, let alone the putative property, existence.  For given the externality of the instantiation relation, both Socrates and the putative property must 'already' exist for said relation to hold between them.  So one moves in an explanatory circle of embarrassingly short diameter if one tries to account for existence in this way.

This circularity objection which I have developed in painful detail elsewhere will, I expect,  leave van Inwagen stone cold.  One reason is that he sees no role for explanation in metaphysics whereas I think that metaphysics without explanation is not metaphysics at all in any serious sense.  This is large topic that cannot be addressed here.

I'll mention one other problem for van Inwagen.  I'll put it very briefly since this entry is already too long.  Van Inwagen is a Fregean about existence; but on a Fregean view existence cannot be a  first-level property.  For Frege, 'x exists' where 'x' ranges over individuals is a senseless open sentence or predicate.  There is no unsaturated assertible corresponding to it.  I have a number of posts on van Inwagen and existence. Here is one.  My latest published article on existence is "Existence: Two Dogmas of Analysis" in Novak and Novotny, eds., Neo-Aristotelian Perspectives in Metaphysics, Routledge 2014, 45-75.

5. Haecceities

Among the properties, van Inwagen counts haecceities.  They are of course abstract objects like all properties.  But they are not universals because, while they are instantiable, they are not multiply instantiable.  The property of being identical with Alvin Plantinga is an example van Inwagen gives. (180) This property, if instantiated, is instantiated by Plantinga alone in the actual world and by nothing distinct from Plantinga in any possible world.  Plantingitas — to give it a name — somehow involves Plantinga himself, that very concrete object.  For this property is supposed to capture the nonqualitative thisness of Plantinga. (Haecceitas is Latin for 'thisness.') 

I submit that these haecceity properties are metaphysical monstrosities.  For given that they are properties, they are necessary beings.  A necessary being exists at all times in all possible worlds that have time, and in all worlds, period.  Plantinga, however, does not exist in all worlds since he is  a contingent being; and he doesn't exist at all times in all worlds in which he exists, subject as he is to birth and death, generation and corruption.   I conclude that before Plantinga came into being there could not have been any such property as the property of being identical to Plantinga.  I conclude also that in worlds in which he does not exist there is no such haecceity property.  For at pre-Plantingian times and non-Plantingian worlds, there is simply nothing to give content to the unsaturated assertible expressed by 'that it is Alvin Plantinga.'  (Alvin Plantingas hung out at those times and in those worlds, but not our Alvin Plantinga.)  Plantinga himself enters essentially into the very content of his haecceity property.

But this is absurd because PvI-properties are merely intensional entities.  No such entity can have a concrete, flesh and blood man as a constituent.  Just as a PvI-property cannot be a constituent of a concretum such as Plantinga, Plantinga cannot be a constituent in any sense of 'constituent' of a  PvI-property. 

But if Plantinga hadn't existed, might it nonetheless have been true that he might have existed? (180).  Van Inwagen says yes and introduces haecceities.  Plantingitas exists in every world; it is just that it is instantiated only in some.  I say no, precisely because I take haecceities to be metaphysical monstrosities.

Conclusion

I am not out to refute van Inwagen or anyone.  Philosophical theories, except for some sophomoric ones,  cannot be refuted.  At most I am out to neutralize van Inwagen's theory, or rather his type of theory, to explain why it is not compelling and how it is open to powerful objections, only some of which I have adduced in this entry.  And of course I do not have a better theory. I incline toward constituent ontology myself, but it too is bristling with difficulties.

As I see it, the problems of philosophy are most of them genuine, some of them humanly important, but all of them insoluble.

______________________

*At this point I should like to record a misgiving.  If sentences (sentence types, not tokens)  are abstract objects, and abstract objects are necessary beings as van Inwagen holds (cf., e.g., p. 242), then sentences are necessary beings.  But sentences are tied to contingently existing languages and cannot exist apart from them.  Thus 'I am hungry' is a sentence of English while 'Ich habe Hunger' is a sentence of German, and neither sentence can exist apart from its respective language.  A natural language, however, would seem to be a contingent being: German came into existence, but it might never have come into existence.  Given all this, a contradiction appears to follow: Sentences are and are not necessary beings.

The Low Intellectual and Moral Level at Oxford and Other Universities

The piece ends with good advice:

. . . if you do not share the universities' values, it could be a big mistake to send your children to college before they are intellectually and morally prepared for the indoctrination-rather-than-education they will receive there. Therefore, prepare them morally and intellectually and, if possible, do not send them to college right after high school. Let them work for a year, or perhaps travel . . . . The younger the student, the less life experience and maturity they have, the more they are likely to embrace the rejection of your values.

The sad fact is that if you love education, revere the life of the mind, care about the pursuit of truth, think young people need to receive wisdom from their elders, and value moral clarity, the university is the last place you would want to send your 18-year-old.

‘Religion of Peace’ is not a Harmless Platitude

Douglas Murray's article from The Spectator is so good I have reproduced the whole of it.  (HT: Joel Hunter) Study the article. Pass it on. If you live in the West and enjoy its freedoms and liberties, then you have a moral obligation to do your bit in defense of it and them. People have shed  blood in defense of these freedoms and liberties and you are too lazy to inform yourself about these matters and to speak out?  In particular, you must speak out against the mendacity of Obama and his underlings who refuse to refer to Muslim terrorism as perpetrated by Muslims acting from (what they take to be) Islamic beliefs and which are, the experts tell me, really Islamic beliefs.

The only weak point I find in Murray's piece on a quick reading is the author's claim that no religion is peaceful.  A religion is not the same as its adherents.  It is certainly true that no religion is such that all of its adherents are peaceful.  But aren't Buddhism and Christianity in their doctrines and approved practices peaceful in stark contrast to Islam and its doctrines and approved practices?

It occurs to me that there may be a second weak point.  The author says nothing about the need to examine immigration policies.  Shouldn't we be having a 'conversation' about this?  Liberals love 'conversations' about this, that, and the other thing.  Do you liberals really believe in free inquiry and open debate? Prove it!

UPDATE, 1:45 PM.  This just in from Joel Hunter:

1. "‘Noble’ or not, this lie is a mistake. [. . .] Thirdly, because it takes any heat off Muslims to deal with the bad traditions in their own religion."

I do not agree. While public denunciations from Muslim leaders to the larger world may be muted, qualified, or even nonexistent, I think the militant nature of secularism puts plenty of heat on Muslims at all levels of society to reassure the rest of "us" that they either (a) have nothing to do with the fanatics and/or (b) are taking steps to shun and ostracize them from "acceptable" (within the secular sphere) society. My impression is that this message, though delivered in and by western societies with a velvet glove, is pretty constant.
 
2. "Because the violence of the Islamists is, truthfully, only to do with Islam: the worst version of Islam, certainly, but Islam nonetheless."
 
I think this is self-serving and reductive. The violence of Islamists has to do with Islam, yes. But only Islam? Ridiculous. This is equivalent to the claim that the violence of the Christians in the Crusades had only to do with Christianity.
 
3. "Here we land at the centre of the problem — a centre we have spent the last decade and a half trying to avoid: Islam is not a peaceful religion. No religion is, but Islam is especially not." As you pointed out, he overreaches here. He goes on to cite stories about Mohammed from the Hadith that indicate Mohammed was no pacifist. He wants to infer that Islamists are acting on the violent history of their founder. But nowhere does he show that Muslims teach that emulating all of the actions of their Prophet are what a good Muslim does, nor that Muslims believe that.
 
To "fight" Islamists will require more than a total surveillance state, state-of-the-art military equipment, and combat soldiers. It will require a more difficult examination of historical, non-religious causes emanating from western societies. This Guardian article discusses this perspective. It has its weaknesses, too, but I think gives a more complete picture of what is needed from our leaders to "defeat" Islamism and rescue the idea of the secular.
 
An aside: Malcolm Muggeridge once wrote that Joseph McCarthy might have been the most brilliant conspiracy ever created by the Reds, for what other person, what other rhetoric, would be likely to elicit sympathy for communism? In a similar vein, it strikes me that the militant atheists are best explained as an elaborate plot by theists to garner sympathy for believers and interest in their ways.
 
UPDATE (21 January 2015, 5:30 AM).  Horace Jeffery Hodges writes,
 
Thanks for posting all of the Murray article – it's quite good.
 
But readers might find your "Update" confusing. Could you show more clearly where Joel Hunter is speaking and where you are speaking? I'm inferring that Joel Hunter states the following:

 
"But nowhere does he show that Muslims teach that emulating all of the actions of their Prophet are what a good Muslim does, nor that Muslims believe that."
 
Unfortunately, Islam does teach that a good Muslim does emulate Muhammad in every respect. Fortunately, most Muslims do not do so, nor do most mosques talk about Muhammad's 'bad' actions, for whatever reasons.
 
BV:  The material above the first update is wholly mine, while the material in the first update is wholly Hunter's.  So Jeff's inference is correct.
 
………………

The West’s movement towards the truth is remarkably slow. We drag ourselves towards it painfully, inch by inch, after each bloody Islamist assault.

In France, Britain, Germany, America and nearly every other country in the world it remains government policy to say that any and all attacks carried out in the name of Mohammed have ‘nothing to do with Islam’. It was said by George W. Bush after 9/11, Tony Blair after 7/7 and Tony Abbott after the Sydney attack last month. It is what David Cameron said after two British extremists cut off the head of Drummer Lee Rigby in London, when ‘Jihadi John’ cut off the head of aid worker Alan Henning in the ‘Islamic State’ and when Islamic extremists attacked a Kenyan mall, separated the Muslims from the Christians and shot the latter in the head. And, of course, it is what President François Hollande said after the massacre of journalists and Jews in Paris last week.

All these leaders are wrong. In private, they and their senior advisers often concede that they are telling a lie. The most sympathetic explanation is that they are telling a ‘noble lie’, provoked by a fear that we — the general public — are a lynch mob in waiting. ‘Noble’ or not, this lie is a mistake. First, because the general public do not rely on politicians for their information and can perfectly well read articles and books about Islam for themselves. Secondly, because the lie helps no one understand the threat we face. Thirdly, because it takes any heat off Muslims to deal with the bad traditions in their own religion. And fourthly, because unless mainstream politicians address these matters then one day perhaps the public will overtake their politicians to a truly alarming extent.

 

Continue reading “‘Religion of Peace’ is not a Harmless Platitude”

‘Contemporary Liberals’

When I pound on liberals, it is contemporary liberals who I have on my chopping block, not classical liberals or liberals from circa 1960.  Call the latter paleo-liberals or old-time liberals.  My brand of conservatism incorporates the best of their views.  My conservatism is distinctively American; it is not of the 'throne and altar' variety.

But 'contemporary liberal' is ambiguous.  It could refer to an old-time liberal with respect to some or all of the issues who just happens to flourish in the present, or it could refer to one who espouses contemporary liberalism, that species of aberrant political ideology increasingly indistinguishable from, and ever on the slouch toward, hard leftism.

I mean 'contemporary liberal' in the second  sense. Accordingly, 'contemporary' in 'contemporary liberal' as I use the phrase modifies the liberalism of the liberal and not the liberal.  The cynosure of my disapprobation  is contemporary liberalism or progressivism or leftism.  Finer distinctions can be made as needed.  And no one outdoes the philosopher when it comes to drawing distinctions.  For one of his mottoes is:

Distinguo ergo sum.

C. S. Lewis on Mere Liberty and the Evils of Statism

Dear Bill,
 
Could I interest you in please posting a notice on your blog of the following new YouTube video from the C.S. Lewis Society of California of my keynote talk at the first annual conference of Christians for Liberty, that was held at St. Edwards University in San Antonio, TX, August 2, 2014?
 
 
Thank you for your kind consideration!
 
Best regards,
 
David


David J. Theroux
Founder and President
C. S. Lewis Society of California
100 Swan Way, Suite 200
Oakland, CA 94621
(510) 635-6892 Phone
(510) 568-6040 Fax
DTheroux@lewissociety.org
www.lewissociety.org

‘Islamophobia’ and ‘Hoplophobia’

My argument against the use of these terms is simple and straighforward.  A phobia, by definition, is an irrational fear.  (Every phobia is a fear, but not every fear is a phobia, because not every fear is irrational.)  Therefore, one who calls a critic of the doctrines of Islam or of the practices of its adherents an Islamophobe is implying that the critic is in the grip of an irrational fear, and therefore irrational. This amounts to a refusal to confront and engage the content of his assertions and arguments.

This is not to say that there are no people with an irrational fear of Muslims or of Islam.  But by the same token there are people with an irrational fear of firearms.

Suppose a defender of gun rights were to label anyone and everyone a hoplophobe who in any way argues for more gun control.  Would you, dear liberal, object?  I am sure you would.  You would point out that a phobia is an irrational fear, and that your fear is quite rational.  You would say that you fear the consequences of more and more guns in the hands of more and more people, some of them mentally unstable, some of them criminally inclined, some of them just careless.

You, dear liberal, would insist that your claims and arguments deserve to be confronted and engaged and not dismissed.  You would be offended if a conservative or a libertarian were to dismiss you as a hoplophobe thereby implying that you are beneath the level of rational discourse.

So now, dear liberal, you perhaps understand why you ought to avoid 'Islamophobia' and its variants except in those few instances where they are legitimately applied.

Discussion of a Putative Counterexample to My Terrorism Definition

From a reader  (the same one as yesterday):
 
I think the two distinctions you make are the right ones to make. I doubt that the four necessary conditions in your definition of 'terrorism' are jointly sufficient, but I'm not too concerned about that. [And I didn't claim that they are jointly sufficient, only that they are individually necessary.] I was hoping for a good practical definition and this is as good as I've seen (and better than the ones I offered). If the State Department were to adopt this definition, they would have a good, functional definition that got nearly every case right. It's too bad that you and I both know the State Department as currently staffed and run would never do anything so sane!
 
BV: Here is the State Department definition: 

Title 22, Chapter 38 of the United States Code (regarding the Department of State) contains a definition of terrorism in its requirement that annual country reports on terrorism be submitted by the Secretary of State to Congress every year. It reads:

"[T]he term 'terrorism' means premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against noncombatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine agents".[53]

That is fairly close to what I said, though I wasn't aware of this definition until just now.  I didn't mention premeditation, but that pretty much goes without saying.  There are plenty of spur-of-the-moment crimes of passion, but how many spur-of-the-moment terrorist acts of passion are there?  But three of my points are covered. 

 
Here's my attempt at a counterexample. Suppose we are in Nazi Germany and suppose further that the Nazi state was not a legitimate one. Thus, in Germany during Nazi rule, there was no legitimate state. I am part of a German underground agency working to overthrow Hitler's regime because I and my agency recognize the Nazis as illegitimate and murderous. My agency is clearly not a state, so I think it meets condition three. My agency and I have a political goal: the overthrowing of the Nazi regime and the establishment of a legitimate government. So, condition one is met. 
 
The other two conditions might be a little harder to meet. Suppose I know that Hitler is to give a speech at a rally, flanked by many high ranking Nazis. My agency has found a way to get myself and a few others into the crowd, but we know the Nazis thoroughly check a crowd for guns. Luckily, agent X is an ace explosive maker, and can make explosives out of things that not even the Nazis would suspect. Agent X equips us all with highly explosive cigarette lighters. We want to kill as many of the Nazi brass as we can and this may be the best shot we have. Given the circumstances, we do not have the option of discriminating between the "combatant" Nazis and the civilians who may have just come out of curiosity. We decide it is better to risk killing a civilians who are too close than not take the opportunity. Thus, we seem to meet condition two. 
 
The question is whether this counts as an act of sabotage against the Nazis. It certainly involves the killing or maiming of other human beings. And, you might think that sabotage involves acts against legitimate entities, and the Nazis are not legitimate. It seems to me to be more than mere sabotage. But I think someone could reasonably disagree with me about that. If I'm right, then it appears that I'm a terrorist unless we come up with more conditions.
 
BV:  Let us suppose that you count as a terrorist by my definition.  Would that be a problem?  My definition says nothing about whether terrorism is good or bad, morally permissible or impermissible.  It merely states what it is.  The original question was whether it is true that most terrorists, at the present time, are Muslims.  To answer that question we need a definition of 'terrorist.' On the basis of my  definition I would say that, yes, most terrorists today are Muslims. My concern was merely to define the phenomenon.  I leave open whether some terrorist acts are morally permissible.
 
Of course, I consider Muslim terrorism unspeakably evil, from the beheading of Christians, including Christian children, to the attack on Charlie Hebdo, even though I consider the Hebdo crew to be moral scum who misuse, egregiously, the right to free speech, thereby confusing liberty with license.  This is why it is is so wrong and indeed moronic for people to stand up for free speech by saying Je suis Charlie.  Do they really mean to identify with those people? The way to stand up for free speech is by courageously but responsibly exercising one's right to free speech by speaking the truth, not by behaving in the manner of the adolescent punk who makes an idol of his own vacuous subjectivity and thinks he is entitled to inflict on the world every manifestation of his punkish vacuity.
 
If someone brings up all the violent drug cartel members in Mexico and Central and South America who 'terrorize' people, assassinate judges, bribe politicians and law enforcement agents, and so on, the answer is that they don't satisfy my first condition inasmuch as they are members of organized crime, not terrorists: they are not in pursuit of a political objective.  It is not as if they aim to set up something like a narco-caliphate.  They do not, like Muslim terrorists, seek to assume the burdens of governance in an attempt to bring about what they would consider to be a well-regulated social and political order in which human beings will flourish by their definition of flourishing.  They attack existing states, but only because those states impede their criminal activities.  See Mexican Drug Cartels are not Terrorists.
 
As for sabotage, I was  suggesting that sabotage is not terrorism because terrorist acts are directed against persons primarily, while acts of sabotage are not directed against persons except indirectly.  If Ed Abbey urinates into the gas tank of a Caterpillar tractor and manages to disable it, that will affect people but only indirectly.  (But what about tree-spiking?)  So I would not call you and your cohorts saboteurs.
 
You are not a terrorist by my definition because you are not indiscriminate in your attack on people: you are not trying to kill noncombatants.  What you are doing comes under collateral damage.
 
The question of Double Effect comes up here as well.  See my Israel, Hamas and the Doctrine of Double Effect.
 

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Ramblin’ Charles Adnopoz

David Dalton, Who is That Man? In Search of the Real Bob Dylan, Hyperion, 2012, p. 65:

As Dave van Ronk pointed out in his autobiography, many of the people involved in the first folk revival of the 1930s and '40s were Jewish — as were the folkies of the '60s. Van Ronk reasoned that for Jews, belonging to a movement centered on American traditional music was a form of belonging and assimilation.

[. . .]

"The revelation that Jack [Elliot] was Jewish was vouchsafed unto Bobby one afternoon at the Figaro," Van Ronk recalled.  "We were sitting around shooting the bull with Barry Kornfeld and maybe a couple of other people and somehow it came out that Jack had grown up in Ocean Parkway and was named Elliot Adnopoz.  Bobby literally fell off his chair; he was rolling around on the floor, and it took him a couple of minutes to pull himself together and get up again.  Then Barry, who can be diabolical in things like this, leaned over to him and just whispered the word 'Adnopoz' and back he went under the table."

Ramblin jackLacking as it does the proper American cowboy resonance, 'Elliot Charles Adnopoz' was ditched by its bearer who came to call himself 'Ramblin' Jack Elliot.'  Born in 1931 in Brooklyn to Jewish parents who wanted him to become a doctor, young Adnopoz rebelled, ran away, and became a protege of Woody Guthrie.  If it weren't for Ramblin' Jack, Guthrie would be nowhere near as well-known as he is today. 

Pretty Boy Floyd.  "As through this life you ramble, as through this life you roam/You'll never see an outlaw drive a family from their home."  No?  An example of the  tendency of lefties invariably to  take the side of the underdog regardless of whether right or wrong.  

Ramblin' Jack does a haunting version of Dylan's Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues.  It grows on you. Give it a chance.  Cigarettes and Whisky and Wild WomanSoul of a Man. Dylan's unforgettable,  Don't Think Twice.  Here he is with Joan Baez, Leonard Cohen, Buffy Sainte Marie singing the beautiful, Passing Through.