Footnotes to Plato from the foothills of the Superstition Mountains

  • Was the Fall Necessary?

    Karl White inquires,

    Doesn't the classical doctrine of Theism as applied to Christianity require that the temptation in Eden and subsequent Fall were predestined and inescapable? I say this because if Jesus is a person of the Godhead then it must hold that his essence is immutable and above contingent change, particularly in response to human actions. So if Adam had never sinned, then Jesus's salvific role would have been redundant, and an 'unemployable' Jesus makes no sense whatsoever. Or am I missing something?

    The reasoning seems to be as follows. (1) The man Jesus is a person of the Godhead; (2) the man Jesus is essentially the savior; (3) the persons of the Godhead are necessary beings; ergo, (4) the salvific role is necessarily instantiated; (5) the salvific role is instantiated iff the Fall occurs; ergo, (6) the Fall had to happen and was therefore "inescapable."

    I deny (6) by denying (1). 

    As I understand the classical Christian narrative, the lapsus and subsequent ejection from paradise were contingent 'events,' ones that would not have occurred had it not been for Adam's disobedience. Adam sinned, and he sinned freely. There was no necessity that he sin and thus no necessity that the Fall occur. Of course, God foreknew what Adam would do; but divine foreknowledge is presumably compatible with human freedom in the libertarian 'could have done otherwise' sense.

    That Adam possessed free will before the Fall follows, I think, from his having been created in the divine image. (So he had free will before eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.) The imago dei is of course to be taken in a spiritual, not a physical sense.  It means that man, though an animal, is a spiritual animal unlike all the other animals.  God, a free Spirit, created in Adam a little free spirit, a reflection of himself, although reflection is not quite the word. 

    So the Fall need not have occurred. But it did, and man fell out of right relation to God and into his present miserable predicament which includes of course the death sentence under which man now lives as punishment for his primordial act of rebellion.  The current predicament is one from which man cannot save himself by his own efforts.  So God, having mercy on man, decides to send a Redeemer and Savior.

    But the enormity of the Original Offense against God is such that only a divine being can make it good and restore man to God's good graces.  So God sends his own divine Son ("begotten not made") to suffer and die for our sins.  This is God the Son, the second person of the Trinity, the Word of God, the Logos, co-eternal with the Father, a purely spiritual necessary being like the Father. He enters the material world by being born of the virgin Mary.  This is the Incarnation.

    Now just as the Fall was contingent, so is the Incarnation. It need not have occurred. It is doubly contingent: contingent on Adam's free sin and God's free decision to save humanity.

    So my answer to my reader is as follows. The salvific role need never have been instantiated. God need never have become man. Humanity might still be in he prelapsarian, paradisical state, living forever with subtle indestructible bodies unlike the gross bodies we are presently equipped with. The man Jesus is not a person of the Godhead. There was no necessity that the Fall occur.


    7 responses to “Was the Fall Necessary?”

  • The Last Chess Shop in New York City

    A moving little video.


  • Adapted from Teilhard de Chardin

    We are not human beings on a spiritual journey; we are spiritual beings on a human journey.


  • Adapted from Pascal

    There is light enough for those who wish to see, and darkness enough for those who don't.


  • Do Our Ideals Make Hypocrites of Us?

    Perhaps only unrealizable ideals do. But such 'ideals' are not ideals in the first place. Only that which is realizable by us counts as an ideal for us. Or so say I. This is a quick and dirty formulation of my Generalized Ought-Implies-Can principle.

    Take celibacy. Can any healthy man in the full flood of his manhood adhere to it? St. Augustine in his Confessions somewhere remarks (I paraphrase from memory) that no man can get a grip on his concupiscence without divine assistance. 

    So I note an ambiguity. 'Realizable by us' is ambiguous as between 'realizable by us without outside help' and 'realizable by us with or without outside help.'


  • Moral Failure and Moral Capacity

    Not being capable of truly horrendous crimes and sins, we moral mediocrities sin in a manner commensurate with our limitations. So I had the thought: we are all equally sinful in that we all sin to the limit of our capacity. It is not that we always sin, but that when we do, we sin only as much as we are capable of.  So James 'Whitey' Bulger and I are equal in that we both sin, when we do, only to the limit of our capacity. It is just that his capacity is vastly greater than mine. I am a slacker when it comes to sin.  I have never murdered anyone because he knew too much, dismembered and disposed of the body, enjoyed a fine dinner, and then slept like a baby. Bulger did this to a beautiful young woman, the girlfriend of one of his pals when girl and pal broke up. "You're going to a better place," said the pal to the girl right before Bulger did the deed.

    A while back I re-viewed* portions of the 1967 cinematic adaptation of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. Can I take credit for not being a thief and a murderer when I simply don't have it in me to do such things? Instead I do things so paltry it seems absurd to confess them, the confessing of which is possibly indicative of an ego-enhancing moral scrupulosity, a peccadillo if a sin at all.

    On the other hand, the harder you strive for a high standard, the more of a moral wretch you perceive yourself to be.

    The moral life is no easy life either morally or intellectually.  That is to say: it is hard to live it and hard to think clearly and truly about it and what it entails.

    ________________

    *The pedant in me would have you note the difference between review and re-view.


  • Paul Roubiczek on the True Object of Philosophy

    Neglected and obscure, Paul Roubiczek is well-worth reading. Thinking Towards Religion, London: Darwen Finlayson Ltd., 1957, p. 29:

    I believe that the true object of philosophy is the search for ultimate truth, not because I assume we can succeed in this search, but because it will bring us to the boundaries which we have to accept and thus make them clear to us.


  • Catholicism as a Literary Affair?

    William Giraldi in Commonweal:

    Because I want nothing to do with hocus-pocus, because dogma and decrees are closed to real contest, and because corporations make me glum (the Vatican is, among other things, a corporation), Catholicism is for me a literary affair: drama, poetry, myth, tradition. Homilies and hymnals, liturgies and sermons done right, the Benedictus, the Magnificat, the Gloria in Excelsis Deo: these are literature no less than The Iliad is.

    One problem with cleaving to the aesthetics of Catholicism while dumping the metaphysics is that, post-Vatican II, there is not much to cleave to: the pageantry and liturgy have devolved in the direction of the insipid and ugly. There is no need to rehearse the litany of complaints.  But that is not the main problem.  

    Even as a boy, I never believed in an Iron Age Hebrew deity who gives a damn about our mammalian plight. When Orwell, writing about Waugh, remarked that one really can’t be Catholic and grown-up at the same time, he was getting at the wild implausibility at the hub of Christianity. But “God” and “Christ” are, above all, terms of poetry, of allegory and metaphor and myth. Flannery O’Connor once famously snapped at Mary McCarthy when McCarthy said that the Eucharist is only a symbol: “Well, if it’s only a symbol, to hell with it.” Reluctant as I normally am to dissent from O’Connor, I have to side with McCarthy there. Religion not only traffics in symbols, it survives by them, and to mistake the figurative for the factual or allegory for history is to mistake much indeed. But mouthy unbelievers who find, say, Original Sin barbaric and absurd are missing the point on purpose: whatever else it is, Original Sin is most potently a metaphor for the inherent psychological wackiness of our kind, all those pesky hormonal urges that make us batty. Of course we are born blighted: evolution by natural selection is a malfunctioning process. Never mind your soul: just look at all those problems with your teeth, your back, your knees.

    Giraldi makes it clear that he is an atheist. In this respect he is on the side of the "mouthy unbelievers." But he thinks that the latter deliberately (!?) miss the point of the doctrine of Original Sin.  But how could that doctrine have any point if there is no God? Sin, by definition, is an offense against God; if there is no God, then there is no sin either, and, a fortiori, no Original Sin.  The Doctrine has a point only if man, a creature made in the image and likeness of God, offended God and lost his prelapsarian right relation to God. Otherwise the Doctrine refers to nothing real.  The Doctrine refers to something real only if (i) God exists as the supreme moral authority of the universe, (ii) man exists as a spiritual being possessing free will and thus not as a mere animal, and (iii) man freely rejects divine moral authority in a doomed quest to become like God.

    It is difficult to see how 'Original Sin' could be plausibly taken to be a metaphor for a blighted human condition brought about by evolution gone wrong.  The blight Giraldi mentions consists in factual defects in our mammalian constitution: teeth subject to rot, hormones prone to run riot, etc.  Now while the Doctrine as interpreted by many theologians does imply a certain fallenness in nature herself, the main point of it is moral and thus normative, not factual.   Man is morally messed up, not merely messed up in his empirical psychology and in his knees and joints. He is intellectually defective to boot, living as he does in deep ignorance of God, himself, and the ultimate why and wherefore.  This deep ignorance is a spiritual condition, not one explainable in terms of neurons and hormones.

    Note also that it make no sense to speak of evolution by natural selection as MALfunctioning, when interpreted in the light of metaphysical naturalism, to which mast Girladi nails his colors. Evolution is just a natural process driven by natural selection operating upon random variations. No providential Intelligence directs it, and no internal teleology animates it.  To say that evolution malfunctioned in the case of h. sapiens presupposes a normative point of view external to it which is incompatible with a hard-nosed naturalism.

    Another reason why Original-Sin-as-metaphor is at best a very bad metaphor is that the Fall stands at the beginning of human history or at a time just before human history.  Our mammalian miseries, however, come not at the start of evolution but near the end.

    Catholicism as a literary affair? Why bother? 

    In any case, what seems really to interest Giraldi judging by the Commonweal piece are not so much the aesthetics of the rites, rituals, prayers and such of Catholicism, watered-down as they have become, but the aesthetic values of the products of Catholic writers such as Evelyn Waugh and Flannery O'Connor. 


    One response to “Catholicism as a Literary Affair?”

  • Into the Late Sensate: Concupiscense Unconstrained

    Sociologist Pitirim Sorokin has proven to be remarkably prescient. From Pitirim Sorokin Revisited:

    Sorokin’s critique of private life begins with the disintegration of the family. “Divorces and separations will increase until any profound difference between socially sanctioned marriages and illicit sex-relationship disappears,” he predicted in the final volume of Social and Cultural Dynamics. [rev. ed. 1957] Children born out of wedlock and separated from parents would become unexceptional.

    In the 1950s he foresaw the coming sexual anarchy of the West and its downside. Alfred Kinsey’s widely publicized research, the newly founded Playboy magazine’s explicit carnal appeal, the Elvis Presley delirium among adolescents, the runaway commercial success of Peyton Place, the critical success of Tennessee Williams’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita—all were parts of a piece at mid-century. In 1957 Sorokin wrote crabbily, “Americans are victims of a sex mania as malign as cancer and as socially menacing as communism.” This overreach got him ridiculed in the movie Gidget, cartooned in The San Francisco Chronicle, and called a publicity hound and prude.

    What Sorokin saw dawning is now at full noon. The edgy and sordid are box office. Hot porn is just a click away. Casual sex is the norm. Ten or twenty sexualities clamor for a spotlight. Real or not, it doesn’t matter. Hopes and dreams crowd out what is possible and what can be done. The pursuit of pleasure—Neil Postman called it amusing ourselves to death—looks as if it might be a terminal social disease. In the Western world marriage loses its appeal. The idea of family formation changes shape, resulting in social conditions in which 40 percent of U.S. children today are born to unmarried women. These sexualities bear legal rights and popular favor perhaps unique in human history.  

    Late Sensate license—if it feels good, do it—has become its own faith. Facts, reason, and logic are losing their universal public authority, even in academic life. Despite astonishing affluence and material ease, some one-sixth of Americans over the age of fifteen are taking prescribed anti-depressants. Others are reaching for whiskey, marijuana, opioids, and other palliatives. The Late Sensate does not appear to be working too well psychologically, and governability is at issue. Sorokin’s advice to perplexed or anxious individuals facing social turmoil was to focus on the transcendent through the humanities. Plant a garden. Go walking. Respect the natural environment. Practice yoga. Live simply. Turn off the television set and talk to others.

    More than fifty years later, this is not unwise advice. “Only the power of unbounded love…can prevent the pending extermination of man by man on this planet,” Sorokin expounded. “Without love, no armament, no war, no diplomatic machinations, no coercive police force, no school education, no economic or political measures, not even hydrogen bombs can prevent the pending catastrophe.” Sorokin’s prescriptions of altruism and universalism might seem painfully naïve and anodyne today. But this difficult, intuitive man’s clear-eyed premonitions, his studies of social dynamics, and his tough-minded benevolence remain remarkable guides to considering current events.

    Gilbert T. Sewall is co-author of After Hiroshima: The United States Since 1945 and editor of The Eighties: A Reader.


  • Literal and Figurative

    Suppose I am giving an argument while leading a hike. The guy directly behind me says, "I'm not following you." The sentence is ambiguous. In one sense — call it the first — it is plainly false; in the other sense — call it the second — it could be true. If the hiker behind me is not joking or lying, he is stating that he doesn't understand my argument, or see how the premises support the conclusion.

    Obviously, we have here two different uses of 'follow.'

    My question is: Is the second use literal or figurative?

    Cast your vote for one of the four candidates below:

    A. Both uses are literal.
    B. Both uses are figurative.
    C. The first is literal, the second is figurative.
    D. The first is figurative, the second is literal.

    (The same problem arises with respect to my use of 'see' above. Literal or figurative? If I see or don't see how a conclusion follows from premises, is that a literal or a figurative use of 'see'?)

    See my Facebook page for the votes.


  • Saturday Night at the Oldies: Memorable ’60s Instrumentals

    Phil Upchurch Combo, You Can't Sit Down, 1961

    Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, The Lonely Bull, 1962

    Booker T. and the M. G. s, Green Onions

    The Tornados, Telstar, 1962. About the first telecommunications satellite.

    Mason Williams, Classical Gas, 1968

    Michael Bloomfield, Carmelita's Skiffle, 1969

    Dick Dale. Let's Go Trippin,' 1961. Not about drugs; pre-psychedelic.

    Dave Brubeck, Take Five

    The Shadows, Apache, 1960

    Lonnie Mack, Memphis, 1963

    Ventures, Penetration, 1963. Cheesy version. Much better 1981 version. Still boring.

    Ventures, Walk Don't Run, 1960. 

    Jorma Kaukonen's Embryonic Journey from The Jefferson Airplane's Surrealistic Pillow LP, 1967.

    Bent Fabric, Alley Cat, 1962.

    The Village Stompers, Washington Square, 1963.

    Kenny Ball, Midnight in Moscow, 1962.

    David Rose, The Stripper, 1962.

    Acker Bilk, Stranger on the Shore, 1962.

    Dick Dale and the Deltones, Misirlou, 1963. If surf music had a father, Dick Dale was the man.

    The Chantays, Pipeline, 1963. A nice college boy effort, but the definitive version is the Dick Dale and Stevie Ray Vaughan cover.

    Floyd Cramer, Last Date, 1960. She was the world to you, but your love went unrequited. You've just seen her for the last time. But she'll haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. You stumble back to your apartment, fighting back the tears, pour yourself a stiff one, and cue up Floyd Cramer.  But time passes, and soon with Floyd's help,  you are

    On the Rebound, 1961.

    Al Kooper and Michael Bloomfield, Albert's Shuffle, 1968. Two Jews play the blues. A fine example of cultural appropriation. We need more cultural appropriation.

    Duane Eddy, Raunchy, 1963

    The Champs, Tequila, pre-'60s, 1958, to be exact. And not entirely instrumental. The lyrics consist of one word-type 'Tequila' tokened three times. Tequila is what I am drinking right now and what my 1966 self is playing below at a high school talent show. I'm wearing a Bob Dylan-type cap. 

    BV '66 or '67 Fender Mustang

    From a long-time reader:

    Your  'Sat nite oldies' this evening was a great head-trip for me; you hit a lot of buttons, reminded me of a few girls, and some easy days of summer with  Booker T. and Bent Fabric; also at that time, 
     
    "Midnight in Moscow" just flat ruined me for other music for a year or so – it produced in me a heady mix of scandal, sin, sex, high excitement, I was ready to go to any place that resembled that music. I'd never seen a strip show, but 'The Stripper' – just the music – at that time made me think I'd maybe been missing a good time. I missed too many, as an aside.
     
    Yeah, once wept in my beer to good ol' Floyd too: some dame? (I was going to say 'some girl' but 'dame' seems to fit better with beer and weeping. Hmmm….'broad' even better? Must think deeply on this.)
     
    I would toast 'Tequila' with you but there's none of the noble drop about. I hope you are enjoying yours, and thinking fondly about that talent show – great pic!
     
    To avoid a longish ramble, upon which I am on the verge (intentionally mangled verbiage there :-)) – I'll say goodnight. Goodnight, Mate! Thanks for a good 'Oldies.'

  • Existence and Exemplification: Some Problems

     For Francesco Orilia

    1) 'Cats exist' is an example of an affirmative general existential sentence. 'Max exists' is an example of an affirmative singular existential sentence. 'Max' names a cat of my acquaintance.  The problem that concerns me is whether there is an adequate analysis that does justice to both types of existential sentence, one that preserves the contingency of both and their semantic connection. 

    2) 'Cats exist' is contingently true. Its negation is possible. 'Cats do not exist' could have been true.  There is no metaphysical (broadly logical) necessity that there be cats. The same holds for negative general existentials. 'Gryphons do not exist' is contingently true, which implies that its negation, 'Gryphons exist,' could have been true. 

    3) The surface grammar of 'Cats exist' suggests that it is about cats and predicates existence of them. This surface construal has long been recognized as problematic. For example, is the sentence about all cats or some cats?  Presumably all. But 'All cats exist' cannot accommodate the contingency of 'Cats exist.' The latter is contingent if and only if its negation is possible. Now the negation of 'All cats exist' is 'Some cats do not exist' which is not possible, but self-contradictory.  To be explicit, it is self-contradictory on the extremely plausible anti-Meinongian  assumption that there are no nonexistent objects.  Plausible or not, I assume it here.  Everything exists.

    4) How must we construe 'Cats exist' so that it and its negation both come out contingent? The contingency is easily captured if we take 'Cats exist' to predicate instantiation or exemplification of the concept cat or the property of being a cat. Accordingly, 'Cats exist' is not about cats at all, but about the property of being a cat and predicates of this first-level property the second-level property of being exemplified or having one or more instances.  'Cats exist' expresses the (true, but possibly false) proposition that felinity is exemplified and 'Cats do not exist' expresses the (false, but possibly true) proposition that felinity is not exemplified.  If existence is exemplification, we seem to get what we want: a meaningful contrast between existence and nonexistence that accommodates the contingency of contingent general existentials, whether affirmative or negative.

    The exemplification account of existence also provides a neat solution to the ancient problem of negative existentials. Given that 'Unicorns do not exist' is true, the sentence cannot be about unicorns. What then is it about? It is about the concept unicorn and predicates of this concept the property of having no instances.  The theory is easily extended to cover singular negative existentials if we think of proper names in a Russellian way as definite descriptions in disguise as opposed to thinking of them in a Kripkean way as rigid designators. Charitably understood, when an atheist denies the existence of God, he is not presupposing God's existence; he is denying that the divine attributes are jointly instantiated.  He is denying that the concept God is exemplified.

    This approach to existence could be called 'Fressellian.'  It is essentially the tack that Frege and Russell take if we lump them together and ignore certain differences between the two logicians.  For both of these luminaries, existence is a property of concepts/properties only, and cannot be predicated meaningfully of objects or individuals. As Saul Kripke explains, 

    To deny that it [existence] is a first-level concept is to deny that there is a meaningful existence predicate that can apply to objects or particulars.  One cannot, according to Frege and Russell, say of an object that it exists or not because, so they argued, everything exists: how can one then divide up the objects in the world into those which exist and those which don't? (Reference and Existence: The John Locke Lectures, Oxford UP, 2013, p. 6)

    At the level of individuals there is no meaningful contrast between existence and non-existence because, pace Meinong, everything exists.  At the level of individuals, existence is not classificatory: it does not divide items into the existents and the nonexistents, the entities and the nonentities.  But when existence is 'kicked upstairs' and construed as exemplification, it becomes classificatory: it divides first-level properties into those that have instances and those that do not.

    Russell goes so far as to liken existence to numerousness. Men are numerous, and Socrates is a man;  it does not follow, however, that Socrates is numerous. To think otherwise would be to embrace the fallacy of division. In this case, what can be predicated of the class cannot be predicated of its members. Similarly, men exist, and Socrates is a man; it does not follow, however, that Socrates exists. Not only does it not follow, it is meaningless to say of Socrates that he exists or that he does not exist. Or so maintains Russell. For if existence is exemplification, then of course individuals or objects such as Socrates can neither  exist nor not exist because they can neither be exemplified nor the opposite. If existence is exemplification, then it would be something like a Rylean category mistake to think of objects or individuals as either existing or not existing.

    Characteristic of the Fressellian approach is the radical separation of existence from  individuals.  Well-motivated as it is, it leads to trouble.

    If existence = exemplification, and thus a property of properties only, then there is no such 'property' as singular existence. A highly counter-intuitive result!  For if a first-level concept/property is exemplified, then it is exemplified by at least one individual.  How could that individual not exist?  If it didn't exist it would either be nothing at all, or it would be a Meinongian nonexistent item, an option we have already excluded. (If there are no nonexistent items, then everything exists, including all individuals.) Suppose the concept cat is exemplified by Max. How could Max fail to exist?  If exemplification is a relation, then, for the relation to hold, both relata must exist, the property and the individual.The attempt to reduce existence to exemplification fails.  For we are left with the singular existence of  the individuals that exemplify first-level properties.

    At this point one might object that the existence of Max just is the being-exemplified of the concept cat.  But this can't be right.  For one thing, the concept could be exemplified even if Max does not exemplify it.  'Cats exist' does not entail 'Max exists.' Therefore, the existence of Max cannot be identified with the being-exemplified of  the concept catEven if it makes sense to say that the existence of a property is its being exemplified, which I rather doubt, it makes no sense to say that the existence  of Max, that very cat, is the being-exemplified of the concept cat.  This is also clear from the fact that  Manny, Mungo, and Maya are also cats, and their singular existence is different from that of Max. Each individual has its own existence, and each differs from every other one in its existence.  The concept cat, however, cannot serve to individuate/differentiate  the various individuals falling under the concept.  If the existence of Max = the being-exemplified  of  the concept cat, then there could only be one cat and Manny, Mungo,and Maya would be out in the cold.

    In sum, if cat is exemplified, then cats exist, and if cats exist, then cat is exemplified.  This is necessarily true but it remains on the plane of general existence. Cats cannot exist, however,  unless one or more individual cats exist, and the singular existence of these individuals cannot be the exemplification of the property of being a cat.  One cannot therefore identify existence with exemplification; the most one can do is identify general existence with exemplification.

    5) At this point one might try an eliminativist move and deny that there is singular existence.  This is what the Fressellian approach implies. For Frege and Russell, first-level predications of existence are meaningless: '___exist(s)' is not an admissible first-level predicate. But this flies in  the face of what seems obvious, namely, that sentences like 'Max exists' are true, and are true as predicating existence of the referents of their subject terms.  But if true, then meaningful.  Something similar holds for 'Max does not exist' when embedded in such sentences as 'Possibly, Max does not exist' and 'It will be the case that Max does not exist.'  The embedded sentences are meaningful.  Existence can be meaningfully affirmed and denied of individuals. 

    Whether or not we say that existence is a property of individuals in any usual sense of 'property,' it is a datum that existence belongs to individuals in a way that would be impossible if existence is exemplification. (How existence belongs to individuals is a difficult question. I propose an answer in my book, A Paradigm Theory of Existence, Kluwer 2002.)  For again, it makes no sense to say of an individual that it is exemplified. Only concepts, properties, and cognate items can be exemplified.  If existence reduces to exemplification, then no individual exists.

    6) So we have a problem. We seem driven by cogent argumentation to identify existence with the second-level property of exemplification.  We seem driven in this direction by the need to maintain the contingency of such sentences as 'Cats exist' (true but possibly false) and 'Cats do not exist' (false, but possibly true), and the related need to explain how true negative existentials are possible. But the exemplification approach breaks the connection between general and singular existentials.  Both affirm existence. We cannot rest content with a theory that consigns singular existentials such as 'Max exists' to meaninglessness.  'Max exists' is nothing like 'Max is numerous,' pace Russell.

    Max exists, but he might not have. He is a contingent being.  We need to find a way to accommodate the contingency of contingent existents, and with it, the contrast between existence and (possible) nonexistence at the level of individuals.  And somehow we have to do this without reaching for Meinongian nonexistent individuals. 

    7) At this juncture I will be told that  'x exists' may be defined in terms of '(Ǝy)(x = y).'  But this move only generates further problems. One of them is that this definition cannot be meaningfully formulated  if 'exists' is an inadmissible first-level predicate.   Kripke spots the problem.  He  points out (Reference and Existence, p. 37) that the Frege-Russell logical apparatus seems to allow for a definition of 'x exists' in terms of

     (Ǝy)(x = y).

    Kripke then remarks that "it is hard for me to see that they [Frege and Russell] can consistently maintain that existence is only a second-level concept (in the Fregean terminology) and does not apply to individuals." (37)  Kripke's point is that on the above definition 'exists' is an admissible first-level predicate contra the official 'Fressellian' doctrine according to which 'exists' is never an admissible first-level predicate.

    This is a serious problem. If existence is exemplification, then individuals do not exist. But if everything exists, then individuals do exist. To avoid the contradiction we must distinguish two senses of 'exist(s),' the general and the singular.  Accordingly, general existence is exemplification and is not predicable of individuals while singular existence is. 

    But even if we relax the Fressellian stricture and admit 'exists' as a first-level predicate we still face serious problems. One of them is that 'exist(s)' becomes equivocal across general and singular existentials. Another is that singular existence cannot be identity with something (or other).   The idea is that Max exists just in case he is identical to something.  Since the only thing to which Max could be identical is himself, that is equivalent to saying that Max exists if and only if he is self-identical.  No doubt this is true, but it doesn't sanction the reduction of (singular) existence to self-identity.  It cannot be that Max exists in virtue of being identical to something, for that would imply that his possible nonexistence = his possible diversity from everything. But if he is possibly diverse from everything, then he possible diverse from himself, i.e., possibly self-diverse.  But it is impossible that he, or anything, be self-diverse. Therefore, it cannot be the case that the existence of Max reduces to his self-identity.

    Furthermore, if for Max to exist is for Max to be self-identical, then, given that everything is essentially self-identical, it follows that Max essentially exists and so cannot cease to exist once he exists, which is absurd. If you tell me that Max is self-identical only as long as he exists, then, on the theory under discussion, that amounts to saying that Max is self-identical only as long as he is self-identical, which is a tautology.  You  are in effect admitting that the existence of  a thing is not its identity with something. We ought to conclude that singular existence cannot be reduced to self-identity.

    8) The only solution I can see to the problem of accounting for singular existence within the exemplification account is by way of haecceity properties. 'Haecceity' is from the Latin haecceitas, thisness. An haecceity property, then, is a property that captures the very thisness of an individual. These properties, though supposedly distinct from the things that exemplify them, are as singular as they are.  If there are such properties, then we can give a unitary exemplification account of both general and singular existentials that preserves their contingency and also explains the semantic connection between the two types of existential. It would then be possible to say that 'exist(s)' is univocal across general and singular existentials.  We could then say that general existentials express the exemplification of multiply exemplifiable properties while singular existential express the exemplification of haecceity properties. Now to the details.

    We assume  that (i) properties are abstract objects, that (ii) they can exist unexemplified, and that (iii) they are necessary beings. We may then define the subclass of haecceity properties as follows.

    A haecceity is a property H of x such that: (i) H is essential to x; (ii) nothing distinct from x exemplifies H in the actual world; (iii) nothing distinct from x exemplifies H in any metaphysically possible world.

    So if there is a property of Socrates that is his haecceity, then there is a property that individuates him, and indeed individuates him across all times and worlds at which he exists: it is a property that he must have, that nothing distinct from him has, and that nothing distinct from him could have. Call this property Socrateity. Being abstract and necessary, Socrateity is obviously distinct from Socrates, who is concrete and contingent. Socrateity exists in every world, but is exemplified (instantiated) in only some worlds. What's more, Socrateity exists at every time in every world that is temporally qualified, whereas Socrates exists in only some worlds and only at some times in the worlds in which he exists. Haecceity properties have various uses. I'll mention just the one of present interest.

    Suppose I need to analyze 'Socrates might not have existed.' I start with the rewrite, 'Possibly, Socrates does not exist' which features a modal operator operating upon an unmodalized proposition. But 'Socrates does not exist,' being a negative existential proposition, gives rise to an ancient puzzle dating back to Plato. How is reference to the nonexistent possible? The sentence 'Socrates does not exist' is apparently about Socrates, but how so given that he does not exist? If the meaning of 'Socrates' is the name's referent, and nothing can be a referent of a term unless it exists, then Socrates must exist if he is to have nonexistence predicated of him. But the whole point of the sentence is to say that our man does not exist. How can one say of a thing that it does not exist without presupposing that it exists? Haecceities provide a solution. We can understand 'Socrates does not exist' to be about Socrateity rather than about Socrates, and to predicate of Socrateity the property of being exemplified. Recall that Socrateity, unlike Socrates, exists at every time and in every world. So this property, unlike Socrates, is always and necessarily available. Accordingly, we analyze 'Possibly, Socrates does not exist' as 'Possibly, Socrateity is not exemplified.' Socrates' possible nonexistence boils down to Socrateity's possible non-exemplification. It is a nice, elegant solution to the puzzle –assuming that there are haecceity properties.  There are reasons to be skeptical.

    9) One of the stumbling blocks for me is the strange notion that the thisness of an individual could exist even if the individual whose thisness it is does not exist. Consider the time before Socrates existed. During that time, Socrateity existed. But what content could that property have during that time (or in those possible worlds) in which Socrates does not exist? Socrateity is identity-with-Socrates. Presumably, then, the property has two constituents: identity, a property had by everything, and Socrates. Now if Socrates is a constituent of identity-with-Socrates, then it seems quite obvious that Socrateity can exist only at those times and in those worlds at which Socrates exists. Socrateity would then be like Socrates' singleton, the set consisting of Socrates and Socrates alone: {Socrates}. Clearly, this set cannot exist unless Socrates exists. It is ontologically dependent on him. The same would be true of identity-with-Socrates if Socrates were a constituent of this property.

    If, on the other hand, Socrates is not a constituent of Socrateity, then what gives identity-with-Socrates the individuating content that distinguishes it from identity-with-Plato and identity-with-Pegasus? Consider a possible world W in which Socrates, Plato, and Vulcan (the planet) do not exist. In W, their haecceities exist since haecceities ex hypothesi exist in every world. What distinguishes these haecceities in W? Nothing that I can see. The only things that could distinguish them would be Socrates, Plato, and Vulcan; but these individuals do not exist in W. It might be said that haecceity properties are simple: identity-with-Socrates is not compounded of identity and Socrates, or of anything else. Different haecceities just differ and they have the content they do in an unanalyzable way. But on this suggestion haecceities seem wholly ungraspable or inconceivable or ineffable, and this militates against thinking of them as properties. I have no problem with the notion of a property that only one thing has, nor do I have a problem with a property that only one thing can have; but a property that I cannot grasp or understand or conceive or bring before my mind — such an item does not count as a property in my book. It would be more like a bare particular and inherit mutatis mutandis the unintelligibility of bare particulars.

    Haecceities must be nonqualitative.  Consider a conjunctive property the conjuncts of which are all the mutiply exemplifiable properties a thing has in the actual world. Such a property would individuate its possessor in the actual world: it would be a property that its possessor and only its possessor would have in the actual world. Such a property is graspable in that I can grasp its components (say, being barefooted, being snubnosed, being married, etc.) and I can grasp its construction inasmuch as I understand property conjunction. But the only way I can grasp Socrateity is by grasping is as a compound of identity and Socrates — which it cannot be for reasons given above.

    Note that Socrateity is not equivalent to the big conjunctive property just mentioned. Take the conjunction of all of Socrates' properties in the actual world and call it K. In the actual world, Socrates has K. But there are possible worlds in which he exists but does not exemplify K. And there are possible worlds in which K is exemplified by someone distinct from him. So Socrateity and K are logically nonequivalent. What we need, then, if we are to construct a qualitative thisness or haecceity of Socrates is a monstrous disjunctive property D[soc] the disjuncts of which are all the K's Socrates has in all the possible worlds in which he exists. This monstrous disjunction of conjunctions is graspable, not in person so to speak, but via our grasp of the operations of conjunction and disjunction and in virtue of the fact that each component property is graspable. But D[soc] is not identical to Socrateity. The former is a qualitative thisness whereas the latter is a nonqualitative thisness. Unless the Identity of Indiscernibles is true, these two thisnesses are nonequivalent. And there are good reasons to think that the Identity of Indiscernibles is not true.  (Max Black's iron spheres, etc.) So D[Soc] is not identical to Socrateity. 

    To compress my main point about haecceities  into one sentence: identity-with-Socrates is graspable only as a compound of identity and Socrates; but then this property cannot exist unexemplified. Hence haecceity properties as defined above do not exist.

    10) Suppose now that, despite the above argumentation, there are haecceity properties.  It will then be necessarily true both that Socrates exists iff Socrateity is exemplified, and that Socrates is contingent iff Socrateity is contingently exemplified.  But a Euthyphro-type question arises. Does Socrates exist because Socrateity is exemplified, or the other way around?  The latter: Socrateity is exemplified because Socrates exists.  We therefore move in an explanatory circle if we try to account for the existence of an individual in terms of the exemplification of the individual's haecceity.

    As for contingency, Socrateity is contingently exemplified because Socrates contingently exists, and not the other way around.

    11) I conclude that the exemplification account of existence is untenable. This does not imply that some other view is tenable. For it may be that every view that it is possible for us to formulate is untenable.


    3 responses to “Existence and Exemplification: Some Problems”

  • Populism and Comity

    A sane and defensible populism rests on an appreciation of an insight I have aphoristically expressed as follows:

    No comity without commonality.

    There cannot be comity without a raft of shared assumptions and values, not to mention a shared language.  This is why  unrestricted and unregulated immigration of any and all, no matter what their beliefs and values, can be expected to lead to an increases in social and political disorder. But what is comity?

    The Laudator Temporis Acti quotes (HT: Bill Keezer) Richard Hofstadter (1916-1970), The Progressive Historians: Turner, Beard, Parrington (London: Jonathan Cape, 1969), page number unknown:

    Finally, there is a subtler, more intangible, but vital kind of moral consensus that I would call comity. Comity exists in a society to the degree that those enlisted in its contending interests have a basic minimal regard for each other: one party or interest seeks the defeat of an opposing interest on matters of policy, but at the same time seeks to avoid crushing the opposition, denying the legitimacy of its existence or its values, or inflicting upon it extreme and gratuitous humiliations beyond the substance of the gains that are being sought. The basic humanity of the opposition is not forgotten; civility is not abandoned; the sense that a community life must be carried on after the acerbic issues of the moment have been fought over and won is seldom very far out of mind; an awareness that the opposition will someday be the government is always present.

    The present political climate is not one of comity but one of  contention and cold war, one that threatens to become 'hot.'  Although war is irrational and often pointlessly destructive, there is a logic to it. How can one tolerate and show  "a basic minimal regard" for people who represent an existential threat, where such a threat is not primarily to one's life, but to one's way of life and the liberties without which life is not worth living, religious liberty for example, not to  mention the liberty to speak one's mind without fear and the rest of the rights and freedoms enshrined in the first ten amendments to the U. S. Constitution?


  • An Irrational Attitude for Human Beings?

    Is the following attitude irrational for beings of our constitution?

    I refuse any truth I cannot know to be true. Hence I refuse any truth that can only be believed, or can only be accepted on the basis of another's testimony. I will not allow into my doxastic network any truth that I cannot validate by my own internal criteria. To believe on insufficient evidence is worse than to lose contact with reality.  My intellectual integrity and epistemic autonomy trump all other epistemic values. What is true must pass muster by me for me to know that it is true. It is worse to be fooled than it is better to accept a truth, even a saving truth, that I cannot by my own lights prove to be true.

    Better to languish in the dark than to accept light from an unproven source!

    If we were mere spectators, then perhaps the above attitude would be rational.  But although we are transcendental spectators, we are also materially embodied, culturally embedded, and interested.  To be between — inter esse— is our station: to be between angelic spectatorship* and  animalic embodiment. Both blessed and cursed, man is a being-in-between. We are not merely observers of life's parade; we march in it as well, and our ultimate happiness may depend on the acceptance of truths that we cannot know here below.

    So I say that it is not practically or prudentially rational for beings of our curious constitution to adopt the stance limned above, except when we are pursuing pure theory.

    __________________

    *My pretty formulation is marred slightly by the fact that angels are not mere spectators, but free agents. In that respect they are like us. Where they have it over us is in their freedom from bodies.

    I don't know enough Thomistic angelology to know whether or not the doctor angelicus would say that it is better to be an angel than to be a man. But I do know enough of his anthropology to know that he would hold it to be man's nature to be a composite of form and matter.  Pace Plato, we are not accidentally embodied. A man is not complete without a body. Thus the disembodied post-mortem state before the resurrection of the body  is a state inferior to the resurrected state wherein man regains a transfigured body. (Would a theologian use 'transfigured' in this context?)

    There are various questions here that will tempt the philosopher.  One is this. If the soul (anima) is forma corporis, and if forms are not substances in there own right, and thus not capable of independent existence apart from their material embodiment, how is it that a person can survive his bodily death as a mere soul? This is a bit of Platonism at odds with Aquinas' Aristotelianism.

    It has been said, with justice, that Aquinas was an Aristotelian on earth but a Platonist in heaven. After all, God himself, the form of all forms, forma formarum, is yet the absolute substance. A form that is not the form of anything is, in the case of God,  a being in its own right.


  • Defense Mechanisms as Psychic Calluses

    Some defense mechanisms are in aid of mental health and adaptation to life. They are distortions of personality, but beneficial, like calluses. To modify the metaphor, in a warped world, the warpage of which is Original, the timber of humanity is correspondingly crooked and knotty, but more resilient in consequence.



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  1. And then there is the Sermon on the Mount. Here is a list of 12 different interpretations: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sermon_on_the_Mount

  2. Bill, One final complicating observation: The pacifist interpretation of Matt 5:38-42 has been contested in light of Lk 22: 36-38…



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