Friday, December 31, 2004

2004: My Web of Beliefs

It's been suggested to me that a major benefit of this blog is that I'll be able to look back on it in years to come, and see how my thinking has progressed. To help pave the way for future retrospection (is that even a word?), I'm making this 'meta-post' to pull together some of the things I've written over the last year. Its basic purpose is to outline my current philosophical positions. (Hyperlinks are great! You may have noticed that I tend to litter my posts with them, to tie together various 'loose strands' or ideas. I suppose this is just the logical next step...)

Epistemology:
My thoughts of various positions are found in my skepticism overview, and my first original ideas were explored here. My current views are described here - in short, I favour coherentist accounts of justification, but externalism about knowledge.

One development worth noting is that I'm probably less of a strict rationalist than I used to be. For example, I've recently considered allowing gut feelings and tradition to count as evidence and reasons, respectively.

Religion:
I'm an atheist. This post questions whether religion can explain the three 'big questions' of morality, meaning, and the creation of the universe. There's some good discussion in the comments section. I guess another important post is my one on Pascal's Wager, wherein I explain why I find the jealous Christian God so implausible. Oh, and Whose Freedom? explains why I don't think the 'free will' theodicy can answer the problem of evil - quite the reverse, in fact!

Ethics:
I've suggested a fairly pragmatic approach to imputing moral responsibility. (See also my defence of compatibilism regarding free will & determinism.) I'm quite interested in theories of well-being - my central discussion of which can be found here. Another important post is my one on normativity, which explores the normative force of 'oughts'. Moral emotions explores the relationship between morality and emotion. As for moral theories, my favourite is still Desire Utilitarianism (which I haven't properly blogged about yet, but you can find some links, including an overview I wrote, here.)

As for 'applied ethics', my most significant posts are probably the ones on infanticide & abortion, and animal ethics. My views on prisons and punishment are described here.

Politics:
Although generally left-wing, I'm opposed to all forms of racial discrimination (including "affirmative action"), for the reasons described here. I think the separatist strain of multiculturalism is harmful, as is one-sided assimilation, and much prefer the compromise of reciprocal integration.

My post on Law and Morality looks at the relationship between the two. I still broadly agree with the objections to 'natural law' and 'social contract' theories sketched in my Political Fictions post. Civil Freedom vs. Political Power explains how one can be a fan of liberalism while having qualms about democracy (understood as majoritarian rule). Freedom is central to my political philosophy, though I understand it differently from libertarians.

Mind:
I guess my main post here would be the one on subjectivity, and perhaps the related one on dreams & sensations. I've recently described Dennett's Multiple Drafts theory of consciousness, and explain in the comments section how far I'm currently inclined to agree with it. I suppose my post Does the Past Matter? could also fit in this category, insofar as the position I advocate there implies the rejection of causal theories of intentionality. My post on the Buridan's Ass paradox involves a slightly unusual understanding of rationality. I've posted on understanding video games as interactive fictions, and also discussed the rationality of our emotional responses to fiction

The nature of reality:
I've written several speculative posts on metaphysical topics. So Many Possibilities and More Modality (scroll to the "more detail" section) roughly outline my thoughts on modality; I plan to refine these in an upcoming post. Essential Meanings rejects de re modality, suggesting that modal properties adhere to descriptions, not objects-in-themselves. Similarly, I see truth itself as a feature of language rather than the world itself. See also Truth & Relativism and Alethic Contexualism.

Mixed Metaphysics offers my thoughts on the field as a whole. Universals Overview surveys the various positions in that big debate, and links to further posts where I explore my own ideas in greater detail.

Okay, I think that's just about everything... Oh - and happy new year!

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Multiple Drafts

In this post I want to provide a quick overview of Dennett's "Multiple Drafts" theory of consciousness, as presented in his book, Consciousness Explained. Several of the key ideas are ones I've discussed previously. Most central is Dennett's rejection of the Cartesian Theatre - a place in the brain where "it all comes together" and consciousness occurs.

Dennett maintains that cognitive discriminations need only be made once. The information does not then need to travel to any special area of the brain in order to become conscious. Without the 'theatre', there is no need for such a 'presentation' to take place. As I quoted before: "That would be a waste of time and (shall we say?) paint. The judgment is already in, so the brain can get on with other tasks!" (p.128)

Another important consequence of rejecting the Cartesian picture (with a focus now on the 'consciousness occurs' aspect of it), is that our brains can represent time using a medium other than time itself - so our subjective experience of temporal order need not match the objective order of discrimination (this allows us to explain many otherwise-puzzling phenomena; follow the link for details). The counter-intuitive upshot of this is that consciousness does not occur on a moment-by-moment basis. Because our brain's representations are spread out throught time as well as space, you cannot 'freeze' time and ask what is being consciously represented at any given instant.

But in fact Dennett goes even further than this. Even if we allow for temporally-extended representations, he suggests there simply is no objective fact of the matter as to which representations are conscious and which are not. His alternative proposal is the 'Multiple Drafts' model. It can be introduced via analogy with electronic publishing (pp.125-126):
In the world of publishing there is a traditional and usually quite hard-edged distinction between pre-publication editing, and postpublication correction of "errata." In the academic world today, however, things have been speeded up by electronic communication. [... Often] several different drafts of an article are simultaneously in circulation, with the author readily making revisions in response to comments received by electronic mail. Fixing a moment of publication, and thus calling one of the drafts of an article the canonical text [...] becomes a somewhat arbitrary matter. [... Most of] the important effects of writing a journal article are spread out over many drafts [...] if we feel we need the distinction at all, we will have to decide arbitrarily what is to count as publishing a text. There is no natural summit or turning point in the path from draft to archive.

To apply the analogy, there is no natural distinction between pre-experiential (Stalinesque) and post-experiential (Orwellian) revisions. Our brains construct (and continually edit) multiple 'narrative streams', and there is no objective fact of the matter as to which of these is the 'canonical text' of our conscious experience.

An intuitive example of this multiplicity is provided by (apparent) "unconscious perception and intelligent action." You've probably been lost in thought or conversation whilst driving, and discovered that you have no memory of your past few minutes' car-driving activities. But as Dennett asks:
But were you really unconscious of all those passing cars, stop lights, bends in the road at the time? You were probably paying attention to other things, but surely if you had been probed about what you had just seen at various moments on the drive, you would have had at least some sketchy details to report. The "unconscious driving" phenomenon is better seen as a case of rolling consciousness with swift memory loss.
...
An even more striking case is the phenomenon of being able to count, retrospectively in experience memory, the chimes of a clock which you only noticed was striking after four or five chimes. But how could you so clearly remember hearing something you hadn't been conscious of in the first place? The question betrays a commitment to the Cartesian model; there are no fixed facts about the stream of consciousness independent of particular probes. (pp.137-138, original emphasis)

I'll finish up with one last quote, which draws on ideas I've discussed above, and highlights some central aspects of the Multiple Drafts theory: (pp.135-136)
As soon as any [perceptual] discrimination has been accomplished, it becames available for eliciting some behaviour [...] or for modulating some internal informational state. [... T]his multitrack process occurs over hundreds of milliseconds, during which time various [changes...] in content can occur, in various orders. These yield, over time, something rather like a narrative stream or sequence, which can be thought of as subject to continual editing by many processes distributed around in the brain, and continuing indefinitely into the future. [...] This skein of contents is only rather like a narrative because of its multiplicity; at any point in time there are multiple drafts of narrative fragments at various stages of editing in various places in the brain. While some of the contents in these drafts will make their brief contributions and fade without further effect - and some will make no contribution at all - others will persist to play a variety of roles in the further modulation of internal state and behavior and a few will even persist to the point of making their presence known through press releases issued in the form of verbal behaviour.

Probing this stream at various intervals produces different effects, precipitating different narratives - and these are narratives: single versions of a portion of "the stream of consciousness." If one delays the probe too long, the result is apt to be no narrative left at all. If one probes "too early," one may gather data on how early a particular discrimination is achieved in the stream, but at the cost of disrupting the normal progression of the stream.

To illustrate this last sentence, consider the example of the cutaneous rabbit. Normally, subjects report feeling a series of equidistant taps along their arm. However, if you probe them too early (perhaps by asking them to push a button as soon as they feel the second tap), the illusion of 'hopping' never develops. They will instead (accurately) report that the second tap occurred in the same place as the first. This demonstrates that what we are conscious of is dependent upon how and when our stream(s) of consciousness is 'probed'.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Philosophers' Carnival #7

The 7th Philosophers' Carnival has just been published at Mixing Memory. This could be my favourite one yet, with a lot of really interesting links, which are introduced in some detail and tied together nicely by Chris. He also adds some important editorial comments towards the end, calling for more entries from female bloggers and/or philosophy done in the 'continental' and historical traditions. (I personally prefer the 'analytic' approach, but I still agree with Chris' remarks, as I'd like to see a broader range of philosophical approaches represented in future carnivals.)

One other thing: I notice that a couple of submitted entries didn't appear in the final carnival (possibly due to space constraints). But as I very much appreciate people making the effort to submit their posts, I'd like to offer them some recognition here instead. One of these was MelbournePhilosopher's Parable of the Mugs, which raises some interesting questions about collective responsibility. Another is Chase's post on 'change' and personal development at Blindman.

Many thanks to everyone who participated; and to everyone else, I hope you enjoy the carnival!

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Greatest (Google) Hits

One of the more entertaining things about keeping a site meter is watching the 'referrals' page, to see all the bizarre search-engine queries that bring people to my site. Here's a taste of some of them:
  • evil mcdonalds truth

  • philosophers tackles about philosophy of man

  • sex cetera

  • "little boxes" ticky tacky wav

  • Evolution of Whales - Maori Epistemology

  • Possibile moves in Level 3 game of Tic Tac Toe

  • Robert Nozick's God's Plan + aliens

  • For some, I used to be on the front page but now (alas) don't turn up in the search at all. For example:
  • is there really ghosts??philosophy

  • how is math used in the work of a crime scene investigator?

  • things people believe in such as santa clause , coca-cola etc-

  • evolutionary argument for interracial attraction

  • I hope they all eventually found whatever it was they were looking for.

    Update: I might as well also highlight the most common google searches which bring people to my site. I'm in the 'top 10' Google results for is-ought (and is-ought gap), normativity, "J.S. Mill's harm principle", and - strangely enough - Reggie Dwight!

    2nd Update: I forgot some other common searches: Richard Chappell (naturally enough), this sentence is false, and Where did Machiavelli live? (for which I somehow got to #1 without even addressing the question!)

    Monday, December 27, 2004

    Flourishing

    I've previously argued that well-being is better understood in terms of desire fulfillment than mere subjective happiness. (Recall, a desire that P is 'fulfilled' iff P is true.) We could take this to motivate the following simple view about welfare:

    DF: A person is well-off to the extent that their desires are fulfilled.

    Is this, or something similar, an adequate account of human flourishing? In this post I want to explore some objections to this view.

    1) It might instead be proposed that there are certain objective conditions (perhaps arising from a universal human nature) that influence wellbeing regardless of one's desires. Perhaps love and friendship are examples of such intrinsic goods. We can imagine someone, call him 'Uber-Hermit', who has no desire whatsoever for human contact or company (perhaps through mental illness, or a mad scientist rewiring his brain). But don't we feel UH's life is missing something, without which he cannot truly flourish as a human being, no matter how many of his desires are fulfilled?

    But perhaps we are biased here. Just because we place a huge importance on these things, doesn't necessarily mean everyone else ought to. Interpersonal relationships might well be central to our usual understanding of human flourishing, and we may then use this conceptual prototype as the basis for a normative framework; but it's not clear to me that the typical view is exhaustive of wellbeing in general. I think someone could live well despite their life seeming bizarre from a 'normal' person's perspective. So I'm not sure that we should be so quick to dismiss UH and the quality of his life.

    2) In an old comment, Dan raised a very challenging objection:
    Consider the businessman who wanted to become rich and successful. Yet the more successful and prosperous he became, the less satisfied he was. At the height of his success, he realized what he really wanted out of life, renounced his worldly goods, became a hermit, and was finally satisfied.

    You could [...] say that the businessman did not really want material success. Rather, he wanted something else, and mistakenly believed in material success as a means to that end. This approach, however, comes perilously close to the question-begging claim that the businessman really desired his well-being.

    This is definitely tricky. But perhaps we can make sense of it if we recall that people have a great many desires, only a small fraction of which they're explicitly aware of at any given time. Now, I think we should take the story at face value and concede that Businessman Bob genuinely desired material success (though he later changed his mind). However, there's no way that was his only desire. So perhaps we could say that in satisfying his materialistic desires, he became more aware of other desires he had that he'd previously neglected. (Because the success rang hollow, he finally noticed what he'd missed before.) Consequently, those latter desires became more important to him, and he began concentrating on fulfilling them instead.

    This explanation would seem to fit the story in a way that's consistent with DF - though I'm not entirely sure that it avoids begging the question as warned. But it's the best I can think of right now. I guess another way out would be to claim that Bob didn't really learn anything about his wellbeing, he just changed his mind about what he wanted from life. His anti-materialistic desires were entirely new, not old 'hidden' ones. We've all changed our minds before, there's nothing particularly mysterious about that. (I dislike this response, however. I don't really want to deny that Bob learned something, and that he had previously been mistaken about his best interests.)

    3) Another problem with DF is that it implies we can improve our lives by forcing ourselves to desire arbitrary true propositions, but this seems silly. ("Gee, I wish that grass was green. Oh goodie, it is! Ain't life grand!") Perhaps this can be explained away by suggesting that such whimsical desires, if genuine at all, would surely be very weak.

    We clearly need to clarify our understand of DF so that the value of a fulfilled desire is proportional to the 'strength' of that desire (i.e. its importance to us). But is that enough to make the previous problem go away? What if we managed to induce in ourselves strong pre-fulfilled desires? Would this make us any better off? I'm not sure. On the one hand, it seems too arbitrary. But on the other, it seems plausible that if the world is just how you (really, really) want it, then that's a good thing for you. So I don't think this objection is decisive, though it is at least somewhat troubling.

    4) Building on the previous point, one might argue that DF is too passive a view of welfare; we should replace it with a more 'active' view which recognises the importance of an agent's strivings. PEA Soup discusses a relevant paper by Simon Keller:
    In the paper, Keller argues for the "Unrestricted View: An individual’s achieving her goals in itself contributes to her welfare regardless of what those goals are" (28). "The greater the quantity of productive effort that an individual successfully devotes to the achievement of a particular goal, the more that achievement contributes to her welfare" (36). And Keller clarifies the notions of "goal" and "achievement" as follows. "Taking something as a goal involves intending to put some effort into its achievement. Having a mere desire does not" (32). "[T]he Unrestricted View is concerned with the achieving, not the mere attaining, of goals... To achieve a goal is to have its attainment be due in part to your own efforts" (33).

    Put like that, it does seem to me that goals are more important to our welfare than desires. Though we could bridge this gap. A goal is just a desire we intend to 'achieve' (by the above definition). So we could simply posit a second-order desire that our other desires are achieved and not merely attained. If this new desire was just the right strength, we could get identical results to Keller's theory, without needing to posit anything of intrinsic value beyond simple desire-fulfillment. This strategy may seem a bit ad hoc and unprincipled at first, but I don't think it's so terrible. After all, it does seem plausible that we really do desire that our actions in life are effective, that our wellbeing is in large part due to our own efforts, and so forth.

    5) More from the same PEA Soup post:
    The Unrestricted view explains why "not every desire is such that its [fulfillment] contributes to its holder’s welfare" (32). Take Parfit’s famous example. "You meet a stranger who tells you that he has a disease, and you form a desire that the stranger recover. You never see or hear of him again, but he does recover. Your desire, then, is [fulfilled], but that – surely – doesn’t make things better for you" (32).

    I actually don't share that intuition. If the stranger's health is something you care strongly about, then his recovery makes the world the way you want it to be, and that's a good thing for you. I suspect the source of the skeptical intuition is due to how very weak we normally imagine this desire as being. (Most of us don't really care about strangers all that much.) And whether a very weak desire of ours is fulfilled or not has a vanishingly small influence on the totality of our wellbeing. Hence the intuition that the fulfillment of this particular desire won't affect how well-off we are.

    Alternatively, one could make a distinction between "self-regarding" and "other-regarding" desires, and insist that only the former are relevant to your self-interest. I don't so much like that response, but see here for yet another complication involving other-regarding desires.

    6) Temporal complications. These aren't really 'objections' as such, and I won't address them in any detail here (this post is too long already!), but they do raise problems that need to be sorted out one way or another. For example: does the fulfillment of your (present) future-regarding desires affect your present welfare? How about past desires that you no longer hold? One might even question whether we should care about our future interests.

    7) How to treat thwarted desires when assessing welfare. (Another complication rather than objection.) Are these positively bad, or merely the absence of good? Suppose you desire that P, but P is false. Would you be better off to not have this desire at all, or doesn't it make any difference? Put another way, would we be better off if we desired less? (I take it Buddhists would answer in the affirmative.)


    I'm attracted to the theoretical simplicity of DF, but concerned that it may prove too simple to do justice to our wide range of intuitions about welfare and human flourishing. However, the general 'desire fulfillment' approach is very flexible, so I think most of the challenges can be successfully met by modifying or clarifying aspects of the theory, as I attempted to do in my responses above. (I'd be very curious to hear how convincing others found these objections and my responses.) But of course too many complications would negate the original appeal of the theory. Perhaps my desire for an elegantly simple theory of welfare is not one that can be fulfilled?

    Update: Jonathan suggests: "Plausibly, I think, desires aim for well-being – my desire is appropriate when the fulfillment of that desire would make me better off." That does sound plausible. But I'm reluctant to accept it until we have some alternative account of what constitutes well-being. Any ideas?

    Actually, we might be able to have it both ways here. We can evaluate a desire against how well it would help us fulfill all our other desires. So we can reconcile DF with the idea that desires aim for wellbeing - it's just that this 'aim' presupposes some set of (other) desires to evaluate our wellbeing against. Sound plausible?

    Sunday, December 26, 2004

    Xmas Carnival

    The next Philosophers' Carnival is set for Monday 27th Wednesday 29th Dec, at Mixing Memory.

    If you have a philosophy-related blog, don't forget to submit a post!

    Update: [Post moved to front and carnival date changed...]
    If you were too busy before Christmas to submit a post, you've now got a couple more days in which to do so.

    Tradition

    My natural inclination is to think rather lowly of tradition. (In fact, this suggests you'd be struggling to find one person in a hundred who's more extreme than me in this respect.) I've always assumed that appeals to tradition have no rational force whatsoever: just because something has been done in the past, does not provide us with any reason to continue it into the future. Now I'm reconsidering my position. [But since that's a break from tradition, perhaps I shouldn't! --Ed.] Perhaps tradition can provide reasons, albeit weak and easily defeasible ones.

    For example: why do we celebrate Christmas? Tradition strikes me as the major reason here. Moreover, it seems a perfectly adequate one. After all, some traditions are important to us. As Russell Arben Fox explains:

    Holiday traditions are not just a lot of fun; they're a way of marking time, of moving oneself and one's children through life with other people and sense of history and all the rest. Not that any of us necessarily draw a lot of moral sustenance from Halloween, but the harvest imagery, the stories, the jack-o-lanterns, the costumes and parties and tricks and candy--they all add up, and add something to living through another October together.

    New Zealand has only recently imported Halloween, but - thinking of Christmas instead - I can vaguely identify with his sentiment.

    Now, I don't think tradition has any intrinsic worth, but if it had a general tendency to maximise the good (e.g. through its importance to us), then it would be reasonable to appeal to tradition as a 'rule of thumb'. So the real question is: does upholding tradition tend to maximise the good?

    There are some arguments for classical conservatism which suggest this may be the case. To quote Edmund Burke:
    We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private stock of reason; because we suspect that this stock in each man is small, and that the individuals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and ages.

    (Collective intelligence, in other words, or an expanded version of 'the wisdom of crowds'.)

    One could also argue from the idea of society as an evolving 'organism'. The existing social framework has withstood the test of time. It certainly isn't perfect, but at least we know it works. Revolutionary changes, by contrast, upset the social order in potentially disastrous ways (e.g. China's Cultural Revolution). Of course, this doesn't imply that we should rigidly rebuff all attempts at reform; stagnation isn't exactly adaptive either. But I do think it provides us with good reason to prefer gradual reform, and be wary of overly ambitious or 'revolutionary' attempts at social engineering.

    So I think I should temper my original view somewhat, and concede that tradition can provide us with reasons after all. But they're certainly not absolute (or even moderately strong) ones. If one has good evidence that a particular tradition is pernicious, then of course one should cease to support it. The tricky question is, as always, where to draw the line. Despite the above arguments, I'm not convinced that tradition is a very reliable rule of thumb, so I'm inclined to grant appeals to tradition only as very weak reasons, easily overridden by other considerations. But I'd be interested to hear other people's views here.

    Thursday, December 23, 2004

    Reproductive Duty?

    Dallas, a commenter at Left2Right, argues:
    If everyone were a homosexual, the species would become extinct. That simple fact forms a rational basis for discriminating against homosexuals (unless, of course, one does not give a damn about one's own species).

    There are so many things wrong with this. For one, the premise isn't even true: gay people can still have children, just not with their preferred partner. Even if everyone was gay, I imagine there would still be many people who wanted children enough to do what's necessary to achieve that end.

    More importantly, this is a ridiculous misapplication of Kantian-style reasoning. As Jason once put it (just replace 'marriage' with 'relationship'):
    "But see, I don't for a moment believe that the principle behind gay marriage is to force all people into a gay marriage."

    "I should hope not," she replied. "I like men far too much."

    "It's a false derivation of principle, and exactly the problem with the Categorical Imperative. So all of this brings me to the other maxim that we might derive from the act of gay marriage, and it's one that I have to say I strongly prefer:

    Let every couple be married who desires it, and let them spend the rest of their lives in a mutually supportive and faithful relationship, full of a deep, authentic, and abiding love.

    This satisfies the Imperative quite nicely: Gay marriages and straight marriages both operate on the same principle, and this principle applies equally to all. If Immanuel Kant himself wouldn't necessarily have supported gay marriage, well, at least we might hope to bring around the latter-day Kantians."

    Later in the thread Dallas responds to another commenter:
    Dallas: I'm heterosexual and married, but my wife and I have chosen not to have children. If everyone were like us, the species would also become extinct. Should I be discriminated against too?

    Yes. Selfish, narcissistic behavior should be discouraged, officially and unofficially.

    Given how overpopulated the world is already, it seems a bit odd to call childless couples 'selfish'. Even more odd is the implication that one should have children out of a sense of duty. That's surely a recipe for disaster - what sort of a parent do you suppose would result?

    I personally would love to have kids one day. But my motivation is not at all one of 'duty'. Rather, I genuinely want to have children (er, not any time soon, however!). One hopes most other would-be parents feel similarly. But given that we're just acting from our own preferences, isn't it a bit unreasonable to call those with different preferences 'selfish'? Yet this seems a fairly common attitude towards the childless (or so I gather from Butterflies & Wheels' old posts on the issue).

    One can imagine (counterfactual) situations where perhaps it would be appropriate. If nobody wanted to have children, then we would have a genuine problem. If that were the case, then it would be appropriate to start talking of 'duty', as doing so could help us overcome the collective action problem. But at the moment, there is no collective action problem (or if there is, it's in the opposite direction)!

    To highlight the absurdity, note that Dallas' logic implies that being an urban professional is immoral. After all, if everyone lived in the city, there would be no-one to grow crops, and we'd all starve.

    But a strict adherence to universality neglects the value of individual differences and the benefits of specialization. Things will work out just fine if we accept the current diversity of preferences, and let people pursue their own ends as they see fit. So long as we have enough farmers, there's no need to admonish urbanites. Likewise, so long as we have enough voluntary parents to sustain the population, there is no obligation to reproduce.

    Tuesday, December 21, 2004

    Ontological Commitment

    Maverick Philosopher has an interesting post on existence, wherein he comments:
    Suppose we briefly revisit Quine's famous explication (as he calls it) of 'a exists,' to wit:

    1. a exists =df (Ex)(x = a).

    In something more like English, an arbitrary individual a exists if and only if there exists something to which it is identical. [... W]hat it boils down to is that a exists iff a is identical to something that exists. And that makes for a circle the diameter of which is embarrassingly short.

    I may be getting in over my head here, but from my (admittedly limited) understanding of Quine, I thought a major motivation for his position here was to set an explicit standard for defining a theory's ontological commitments; that is, to clarify when we are committed to something's existence, rather than just analyzing what existence itself happens to consist of. At least, the former is the main focus of his essay: 'On What There Is' (in From a Logical Point of View).

    Quine starts off with "the old Platonic riddle of nonbeing" (p.1):
    I cannot admit that there are some things which McX countenances and I do not, for in admitting that there are such things I should be contradicting my own rejection of them.

    If we were to claim "Pegasus does not exist", McX might insist that the word 'Pegasus' must refer to something for our claim to have any meaning. Quine instead recommends that we follow Russell in translating apparent names into descriptions instead. For example, 'The author of Waverley was a poet' can be paraphrased into the nameless: 'Something wrote Waverley and was a poet and nothing else wrote Waverley'. From this we see that the original part 'The author of Waverley' does not demand any objective reference after all - this burden is instead carried by variables of quantification.

    The virtue of this analysis is that the seeming name, a descriptive phrase, is paraphrased in context as a so-called incomplete symbol. No unified expression is offered as an analysis of the descriptive phrase, but the statement as a whole [...] still gets its full quota of meaning - whether true or false. (p.6)

    So, saying "Pegasus does not exist" is no contradiction after all. We can paraphrase it as (say) "Everything fails to have the attribute of being Pegasus". (This may seem to commit us to an attribute of 'being Pegasus', but it certainly doesn't commit us to Pegasus itself.)

    Quine is interested in how what we say gives rise to ontological commitments. So far we've seen that descriptions or alleged names can be squeezed out of. So what does commit us? That's where "to be is to be the value of a variable" comes in:
    We can very easily involve ourselves in ontological commitments by saying, for example, that there is something (bound variable) which red houses and sunsets have in common; [...] But this is, essentially, the only way we can involve ourselves in ontological commitments: by our use of bound variables. [...]

    We may say, for example, that some dogs are white and not thereby commit ourselves to recognizing either doghood or whiteness as entities. 'Some dogs are white' says that some things that are dogs are white; and, in order that this statement be true, the things over which the bound variable 'something' ranges must include some white dogs, but need not include doghood or whiteness. (pp.12-13)

    So while Quine's definition of existence doesn't say much about existence itself, it does seem worthwhile for providing a clear standard against which we can assess ontological commitments.

    Update: The following quote helps clarify things:
    Now how are we to adjudicate among rival ontologies? Certainly the answer is not provided by the semantical formula "To be is to be the value of a variable"; this formula serves, conversely, in testing the conformity of a given remark or doctrine to a prior ontological standard. We look to bound variables in connection with ontology not in order to know what there is, but in order to know what a given remark or doctrine, ours or someone else's, says there is; and this much is quite properly a question involving language. But what there is is another question. (pp.15-16)

    Restorative Justice

    Today's Press discusses restorative justice:
    It was a high-profile burglary of items of priceless heritage, and they were going to jail for it. [... Reverend Kaa's] passionate speech won over the judge, who in a rare courtroom move changed his mind and sentenced the trio to community service terms of varying lengths.

    The decision also sparked a debate over the restorative justice system – where all the parties with a stake in a particular offence come together to resolve how to deal with the aftermath of the incident and its implications for the future.

    If the three burglars were truly remorseful and do not return before the courts, the restorative justice process followed by the judge's sentence will have allowed them to lead productive lives and the community will be spared the expense of jailing them.

    However, if they slide back into bad ways, restorative justice procedures will be damned as being soft on crime and allowing offenders to talk their way out of trouble.

    Whichever way the future unfolds, the restorative justice meeting the trio went to would most likely not have been easy for them, Denny Anker, the chairman of Restorative Justice Services Christchurch, says.

    "It is a common misconception of restorative justice that it asks victims to be soft on criminals. They actually don't go soft. They can be very, very harsh and frank," she says.

    "If you speak to offenders who have been through a prison sentence or a restorative justice conference, many will say restorative justice is much harder. Having to personalise those you have harmed, having to confront them and be challenged about accepting responsibility and having to confront yourself in that process is much harder for some people than being locked away or serving some other sentence."

    Restorative justice points to a different way of resolving the aftermath of crime, Anker says.

    "Some of us believe the current retributive system doesn't work. It revictimises victims, it doesn't acknowledge that offenders may be victims, it takes the pursuit of justice out of the hands of those offended against.

    "It doesn't acknowledge that offending harms the community as well as the primary people offended against. It is not personally challenging to offenders. They're not called to account or held responsible."

    That said, Anker stresses not everyone wants restorative justice or, indeed, needs it. What different victims need – and when they need it – is crucial for restorative justice to be effective.

    I certainly like the idea of restorative justice. (I've said before that prison should be our last resort.) It'll be interesting to see how this case turns out...

    Update: Macht has more over at Prosthesis.

    Monday, December 20, 2004

    Implicit Biases

    3 Quarks Daily has an interesting post on our implicit biases:
    Inside the wood-paneled confines of the Harvard Club, about 200 Bostonians gathered recently to tap into their subconscious. Literally. Audience members were told to move as quickly as possible through a series of faces and words projected on a screen, tapping their left knees for a young face or a "good" word (joy, sunshine, love), and their right knees for an old face or a "bad" word (bomb, agony, vomit). It took about 15 seconds for most to finish. But when asked to switch, to pair young faces with "bad" words and old faces with "good" words, the rhythm faltered and the tapping slowed. Audience members shook their heads and giggled. Some threw up their hands.

    You can test yourself here.

    I wasn't surprised to learn that I have a moderate preference for young people over old; slight preferences for straight over gay, and for Judaism over other religions.

    More surprisingly, I had "little or no automatic preference for African American relative to White American". (I would have expected some latent pro-white prejudice, but I'm certainly happy to be wrong about that!)

    Strangest of all, I seem to hold "a moderate association between science and Female relative to Male". Maybe because I associate myself (as a male) with liberal arts? Or maybe the tests are just unreliable...

    Good fun though, anyway. Leave a comment and let me know what your automatic prejudices are!

    2004@Canterbury.ac.nz

    I'd laugh if a spammer mistook that for an email address.
    Anyhoo, now that I've got all my results back (see my CV), I figure it's time to review the courses I took this year...

    First Semester:

    PHIL 233: Epistemology and Metaphysics - This was probably my favourite course. Though a big part of that was due to an excellent lecturer, Paul Studtmann, who has since left for America. But the content is interesting anyhow - and just as well, since it's compulsory for phil majors.

    PHIL 239: History of Political Thought - This was easily my worst course - again, largely due to the lecturer. [Full disclosure: It's true that I was disappointed with my grade, as I received only an A; but I also made some of the following complaints much earlier, on my course evaluation form, before the final exam even. In my more cynical (or delusional) moments I wonder if the lecturer perhaps recognised my handwriting come marking time! Seriously though, I talked to some of my fellow classmates, and most shared my objections.]

    My advice to any fellow Cantabrians who may be reading this: do not take any papers from Prof. Mark Francis. He has a very broad knowledge of historical factoids, for sure, and tells some interesting anecdotes; however, he relies too much on this to cover his unacceptable lack of depth.

    I'm just a second year undergrad, but it was obvious even to me that he hadn't prepared his lectures and basically didn't know what he was talking about. Each lecture we had to sit through two hours of unstructured and largely irrelevant ramblings. If a student made the mistake of asking him something, he would pontificate for a lengthy period in response, all the while avoiding the actual question. I'm not exaggerating when I say that his lectures were a total waste of time. Frankly, I regret going to them. Come exam time, I had an exercise book full of notes which didn't say anything. I had to go to the library, find an introduction to the history of political thought, and teach myself from that instead. (The assigned text contained primary sources only, so was little help in this regard.)

    There was no philosophical content to this course, the way it was taught. (Which is a pity, because it could be an interesting topic. I enjoyed writing my Rousseau essay, for example.) We didn't cover a single argument the entire semester - not even for Hobbes! When discussing Kant (in one of the shallowest lectures of the entire sorry course), the lecturer even tried to tell the class that "a priori" means "self evident". Francis is a political scientist, not a philosopher, but the course was double-coded to both departments, so one would expect at least some philosophical content. One would be disappointed.

    COSC 229: Algorithms - Pretty dull. Prerequisite for the Artificial Intelligence paper (cosc 329) that I'm interested in.

    Full Year:

    MATH 115: Discrete Mathematics - Waste of time. I couldn't stand the boring lectures so soon stopped going to them. Still got 100% in every test/exam.

    MATH 105 - Typical intro calculus and linear algebra course. Necessary, but hardly inspiring. Stopped going to lectures for this one also, to no ill effect.


    Second Semester:

    PHIL 251: Semantics - Really excellent course. Taken by Linguistics lecturer Kate Kearns (who I've praised before), but double-coded to philosophy. Every phil major should take this course - it covers predicate logic (incl. quantifiers), possible worlds, referential opacity, counterfactuals, and many other central philosophical topics.

    MATH 308: Logic A - Disappointingly easy. This was a mixed 200- and 300-level double-coded philosophy course, with the 300-level group having some extra lectures (and an exam) on intuitionistic logic. The 200-level section was ridiculously easy; the lecturer (Jack Copeland, who I know can be really interesting) wasted far too much time plodding through tedious proofs on the board. We covered more interesting and challenging topics (e.g. Godel) in the first-year logic course! (That was taken by different people, however, and was not a prerequisite for this course. Starting from scratch again was a real bore.)

    The 300-level section was much more challenging - mostly because it was taken from a mathematical perspective (by Douglas Bridges), and it took me a while to master the new notation and vocabulary. But again, I felt there was too much of a focus on carrying out mechanical proofs rather than exploring concepts. I would have loved an in-depth section contrasting the metaphysics of Platonism, Formalism and Intuitionism/Constructivism, and discussing the motivations for each. Ah well.

    Update: To add a bit of balance, see my comments below, which have a more positive focus.

    Sunday, December 19, 2004

    Genes, Brains and Behaviour

    In my recent post on Conscious Robots, CR commented:
    [I]f there is a behaviour that is generally seen in most humans, then at some point in our evolution, that behaviour must have increased the survival chances of our genes.
    (See also the email quoted previously.)

    It seems to me that CR's comments are based on an impoverished understanding of evolutionary biology. It simply isn't true that every feature of an organism is an adaptation. Everything has evolved, for sure, but natural selection is not the only evolutionary force. Genetic drift, for example, can have very significant effects, especially on smaller populations.

    Stephen Jay Gould has written extensively on the importance of evolved non-adaptive traits (what he calls 'spandrels'):
    All organisms evolve as complex and interconnected wholes, not as loose alliances of separate parts, each independently optimized by natural selection. Any adaptive change must also generate, in addition, a set of spandrels, or nonadaptive byproducts. These spandrels may later be "co-opted" for a secondary use. But we would make an egregious logical error if we argued that these secondary uses explain the existence of a spandrel. I may realize someday that my favorite boomerang fits beautifully into the arched space of my living room spandrel, but you would think me pretty silly if I argued that the spandrel exists to house the boomerang. Similarly, snails build their shells by winding a tube around an axis of coiling. This geometric process leaves an empty cylindrical space, called an umbilicus, along the axis. A few species of snails use the umbilicus as a brooding chamber for storing eggs. But the umbilicus arose as a nonadaptive spandrel, not as an adaptation for reproduction. The overwhelming majority of snails do not use their umbilici for brooding, or for much of anything.
    ...
    The human brain must be bursting with spandrels that are essential to human nature and vital to our self-understanding but that arose as nonadaptations [...] The brain did not enlarge by natural selection so that we would be able to read or write.
    ...
    In summary, Darwin cut to the heart of nature by insisting so forcefully that "natural selection has been the main, but not the exclusive means of modification"--and that hard-line adaptationism could only represent a simplistic caricature and distortion of his theory.

    CR continues:
    The generally accepted belief is that we humans are somehow ‘more than evolution’: that something about our brains has allowed us to break free and start doing ‘what we like with our lives’. [...] We need to ask ourselves how we can be more than evolution. And we need to approach it from a scientific point of view, not from your personal experiences of life. That’s very important!

    I don't know what 'more than evolution' is supposed to mean. Regardless, there's a methodological issue here, in that CR seems to be advocating dogmatic adherence to his favoured theory over the raw data (of personal experience). But theories are beholden to the data, not the other way around. If a theory doesn't fit the known facts, then so much the worse for that theory!

    (Of course, there are times when science shows us that common-sense is spectacularly mistaken. I'm not denying that. But even (especially!) revolutionary theories must fit the known facts - it's just our conceptual interpretations of these that change.)

    It's also important to note that psychology is the science of human behaviour. If we want to translate this field into the language of biology, we need to do so in a way that maintains the integrity of the primary scientific findings. If someone proposes a biological account of human psychology that is inconsistent with our best psychological science, then the attempted secondary account has clearly failed. We need a biological explanation that complements, rather than contradicts, the primary data of psychology.

    As a striking example of this, when I pointed out that people can act from a variety of motivations, CR responded: "How could we? nothing has programmed us to act from any motivation other than the maximisation of our genetic survival chances." But this is foolish, because it's obvious - a known fact - that we really can be motivated by all sorts of different reasons. Any theory that denies this is simply wrong. Similarly, it is a known fact that the human brain is a very complicated organ, capable of (some degree of) logical thought and open-ended decision making. We can make bad decisions - bad for us, even bad for our genes. It happens, there's no denying any of this.

    Of course, evolutionary theory doesn't actually deny any of this - it's CR's misinterpretations of the theory that cause these problems. But I still have to show that evolution really is consistent with the facts I mentioned above. As CR writes:
    What you're suggesting is that natural selection can create a brain that is capable of doing something that wont enhance the survival chances of its genes. But you're going to have to explain how that's possible.

    This is something that I began to touch on in the original post. As I wrote then:
    I find it helps to think of genes as biological blueprints: instructions for how to build a body (and brain). However, those instructions give rise to extremely versatile structures, that can respond appropriately to a wide range of environmental stimuli. That is, we have a huge capacity for learning.

    The key thing to note here is the value of flexibility. Our brains evolved to be capable of very general/abstract reasoning and open-ended decision making, presumably because this allows us to solve a broader range of problems - a crucial skill for organisms in our particular niche. (Not so for others, however!)

    This is not to say that our genes aren't important, or don't influence us. Of course they do - they're the blueprints that describe how to build these wonderful structures in the first place! But one must realise how very indirect their influence is. So long as the resultant structure as a whole facilitates genetic success, the underlying genes will be passed on. This in no way requires that our every thought be explicitly directed towards achieving evolutionary success.

    As an analogy, consider the paradox of hedonism: if you try to be happy, you're sure to fail. The goal of happiness is much better served by indirect means: you should pursue friendships and hobbies (etc.) for their own sake, and happiness will likely result.

    Genetic success is kind of like that. Our genes build brains that have various goals, motivations, and modes of thought. These serve as indirect means of successfully spreading the genes, even though none of our cognition is explicitly aimed towards that goal. Overall, this 'strategy' works well, as the success of our species demonstrates. But it's not perfect: although our actions tend to correlate well with genetic success, there will be some times when they end up orthogonal or even in strict opposition to the evolutionary ideal. That's the cost our genes pay for an indirect approach, but it's well worth it - otherwise we wouldn't be here!

    Update: The Ethical Werewolf has more:
    There's lots of things in human psychology for which an adaptationist explanation makes some sense... The capacity for laughter and the appreciation of music, however, seem more difficult for adaptationists to explain... My guess is that if you throw together a bunch of complicated, evolved modules in the brain -- language processing, emotions, auditory processing -- you get weird emergent capacities on top of those things that weren't specifically selected for.

    From the Mailbag

    Editorial Note: the following email is reproduced here with the author's consent. It is a response to my previous post on Conscious Robots.

    Hi Richard
    Fascinating to see how people read something but don't really read it. Putting this website up is giving me huge insight into the problems humans have in assimilating knowledge. My conclusion so far is that they look for the thing they want to see, not what's actually there.

    1) The point i'm trying to make is that 'I' am not my brain. 'I' am just my 'conscious' brain (which is why i'm a conscious robot not a robot). This is a crucial distinction. My conscious brain is controlled by feelings that it cannot control consciously. It's all there on the consciousrobots.co.uk. Until you start seeing yourself as your conscious mind and not the whole you, you're going to miss the point completely.

    2) genetic determinism.
    You think we are 'more than evolution'. What's your justification for this, and what was the method of change? What kind of structures do you think natural selection is capable of creating? Evolution is a 2 stage process - random changes (mutations/ sexual mixing), followed by selection. Selection means picking the characteristics thrown up by chance that enhance the survival chances of the genes. What you're suggesting is that natural selection can create a brain that is capable of doing something that wont enhance the survival chances of its genes. But you're going to have to explain how that's possible. If an organism is created by chance that decides to do whatever it likes, it will reduce the survival chances of its genes, not increase them. And then it will die. I need to add some more about evolution to help you see this. You can blame your professors. They probably started with Plato. But starting with plato when you're trying to understand human behaviour is like turning to Hippocrates when you're trying to cure cancer. Poor plato didn't have Darwin to tell him why humans exist, or what they've been programmed to do. Hence you fall into the assumption of thinking that humans can be 'more than evolution' without realising that it's impossible to be more than evolution - there's simply no mechanism of change to make us 'more than evolution'.

    3) people are complex creatures - we act from a variety of motivations. Again, refer to above. How could we? nothing has programmed us to act from any motivation other than the maximisation of our genetic survival chances. In which case, we have to look at our current actions and understand why they increase the survival chances of our genes. Read the Selfish Gene and Mating Minds by Geoffrey Miller to understand this one.

    4) 'Well-being', 'happiness', whatever you want to call them: what do you think created these things inside our skulls? Do you think we create them for ourselves? Do you not think that 'well-being' is electrons moving through neurones or chemicals moving through neurotransmitters? What else can any emotion or feeling be other than mechanisms of the brain? In which case, again, you've got to answer the question of 'how did these chemical pathways get to be like they are?' And the only answer you have is 'natural seleciton'. in which case, you're back to the question - ok, if 'well-being' is created by natural selection, then how does it help spread my genes? Well-being, just like your eyes and your ears is a mechansim created by chance and natural selection to increase the survival chances of your genes. We know this because we have no alternative explanation other than God.

    I suggest you go see your professors and say 'Tell me about evolution'. Because what you're doing at the moment is like trying to build an atom bomb without understanding what an atom is.

    The commments you make are the comments Plato would have made. Things changed 150 years ago.

    best regards

    Ian


    The first issue is an interesting one. See my comments here for why I think we should include our subconscious as part of our mental identity.

    Regarding point 4, I'm a welfare externalist. That is, I think that one's wellbeing depends in part upon the external world, in addition to one's own internal mental states. This is not in conflict with metaphysical naturalism. See my posts on ethics - especially Desire Fulfillment (follow that link to discuss welfare externalism) and An Analysis of Value.

    For the record, let me add that I know a lot more about biology than I do Plato. (Though one might suggest this simply shows I know very little Plato!)

    The central two points (i.e. #2 and #3) will be the focus of my next post...

    Friday, December 17, 2004

    The Cost of Thought

    I've recently noticed several people discussing this theme. (I even made use of it myself in my post on the Buridan's Ass paradox.) Carl Zimmer writes:
    Intelligence is no different than feathers or tentacles or petals. It's a biological trait with both costs and benefits. It costs energy (the calories we use to build and run our brains) which we could otherwise use to keep our bodies warm, to build extra muscle, to ward off diseases [...] it is by no means a given that intelligence is always a net plus.

    He goes on to note that we can breed fruit-flies to be better at learning, but then they do worse in competition than the dumber ones.

    PZ Myers explains his pessimism regarding the search for extra-terrestrial intelligence:
    [T]here doesn’t seem to be any evidence for a predisposition to favor intelligence in biology. Features like multicellularity, photoreception, long sharp fangs, flight, etc., pop up in life’s history over and over again, independently; but intelligence? Feh. The universe doesn’t seem to like smart guys. We happened once, and what’s more, we seem to be teetering at the end of one long chain of improbable events in the history of one marginal set of lineages, of which most of its members are in decline.

    I admit to having some fondness for intelligence, so it's disappointing to learn that there probably isn't as much of it in the universe as I had hoped. Though we only have one planet's worth of data here to analyze. Perhaps this is really a question for synthetic biology to answer?

    PZ also lists a few other reasons why we shouldn't be surprised by the lack of aliens on our doorstep. My favourite:
    Once an intelligence has ensconced itself in a comfortable shell of civilization, there’s no further incentive to be smarter, and there’s even pressure to be less clever and fit in. Maybe civilizations reach that point where they invent TV, and then everything goes downhill.

    PZ's post is also picked up by Brandon at Siris, who makes a very interesting point:
    [W]e have fairly good reason to doubt that, even on the questionable assumption that there are lots and lots of intelligent species, most of them would ever reach considerable technological advancement. An immense amount of our scientific development, for instance, is tied to size of our moon. Who knows how we would have developed scientifically and technologically if we never experienced total eclipses? [...] I think it is sometimes too easily assumed that the history of human intelligence shows some special predisposition to science, in a way that is parallel to (and as problematic as, or more problematic than) the assumption that the history of life shows some special predisposition to intelligence.

    Lastly, Mixing Memory has a related post on the costs of consciousness specifically:
    In a great deal of philosophy, thought and consciousness are synonymous [...] However, most of what we do, and I would even say most of what we "think," is largely unconscious, or at least not under conscious control. While this may seem like a negative, it's actually a pretty good thing. Conscious thought is effortful. Not only does it take up cognitive resources (e.g., attention) which places limits on the number and complexity of the tasks that we can consciously perform, but it also takes up a whole lot of physical resources. This makes conscious thought fairly inefficient. It's fortunate, then, that our brains are designed, as a friend of mine often says, to avoid "thinking" (where thinking is synonymous with consciousness). Most of what goes on in the brain is automatic, relatively effortless, and thus uses a much smaller portion of our cognitive and physical resources.

    Thursday, December 16, 2004

    Conscious Robots?

    Today I received the following email:
    Hi there,
    I've been wrestling with evolution and being human. Could you let me know where my reasoning goes wrong? You see, I think i've solved not only all philosophical problems, but all of life's problems as well... and i'm wondering why no one else sees it the same way.
    www.consciousrobots.co.uk
    cheers
    Ian

    It's an interesting site, but although I agree with some of what he says, there are some important points where I think he is quite seriously mistaken. I'll step through these one at a time - his claims (as I understand them) in italics, followed by my response.

    1) Free will is incompatible with modern science [read: materialism].

    That might be true of the libertarian conception of free will, but it certainly doesn't hold of compatibilism. Ian claims that "when we do something 'because we want to' we can see that we're really just doing what we’re told." Told by who? Our brain, presumably. Well that's us, and I must say I have no problem with the idea of doing my own bidding.

    Just because my decisions are embedded in the causal framework of the world, doesn't mean they're not my decisions. (See my post on destiny & determinism.)

    I should add, however, that it's entirely possible for an appropriately designed robot (artificial intelligence) to have free will, according to this view. See Jason's evil robot. So I wouldn't deny that we are indeed 'conscious robots', if by 'robot' you simply mean a purely material being.

    2) We are entirely pre-programmed by our genes.

    I may have misinterpreted, but 'Conscious Robots' seems, in places, to advocate the absurd doctrine of Genetic Determinism. I find it helps to think of genes as biological blueprints: instructions for how to build a body (and brain). However, those instructions give rise to extremely versatile structures, that can respond appropriately to a wide range of environmental stimuli. That is, we have a huge capacity for learning. (It isn't difficult to see why that should be of evolutionary benefit.)

    Our genes are just the builders. Once construction is complete, our brains take over control. (This is very much a simplified picture, of course, but I hope it captures what's most important here.) Evolution drives our genes to build a body (and brain) that will be reproductively successful. That does not necessarily mean that our brains (even subconsciously) directly aim to increase the "survival chances" of our genes. Rather, our brains would evolve in such a way as to - overall, and indirectly - facilitate genetic success. Not every little decision will do so, however.

    So it is simply false that "when an event in the world makes us feel good it's because the survival chances of our genes have increased." We can feel good for all sorts of reasons, some of which have nothing at all to do with genetic success. The role of our genes, though important, is very indirect. Our feelings are caused by our brains, not our genes. More generally, explanations for human behaviour are best found in psychology, not biology. (The latter is too basic [theoretically fundamental] to deal with the complexities we face here. You wouldn't attempt to explain cellular reproduction in terms of particle physics, would you?)

    3) "Our conscious minds are programmed to maximize the pleasure and minimize the pain they experience."

    This claim is known as motivational hedonism (a form of psychological egoism), and is simply false. This is easily demonstrated by the thought experiment described here, which shows that we care about objective desire-fulfillment, not merely the subjective pleasure of desire satisfaction (follow link for full explanation).

    More generally, the claims at 'Conscious Robots' involve overly simplistic psychology. People are complex creatures; we act from a variety of motives, for a variety of reasons. You cannot reduce these all down to mere pleasure and pain - unless, that is, you redefine those words so as to simply mean 'whatever it is that motivates someone'. But then the earlier claim is an empty tautology: humans are always motivated by whatever it is that motivates them.

    4) We should forget about the external world and hook ourselves up to a 'pleasure machine'.

    This is the conclusion he reaches based on the previous claim. Funnily enough, this is usually considered a refutation of ethical hedonism . It's obvious that the present claim is false - few people really want to live such a meaningless life - so the considerations that lead to it must be false also. There is more to wellbeing than mere pleasure. (Again, see my post on desire fulfillment.)


    Of course, even if we granted all the above, it still wouldn't come close to solving "all philosophical problems". But despite the unrealistic ambitions, the site is quite thought-provoking in places, and you may find it worth a look around.

    Wednesday, December 15, 2004

    Jury Service

    The case is over, so I guess I'm allowed to talk about my jury service now. The trial began Monday morning, closing statements were given Tuesday afternoon, and the twelve of us spent several hours today deliberating. Being merely a District (not High) Court case, the details aren't spectacularly exciting, but I'll offer a brief overview anyway.

    Two men were charged with 'receiving' (of stolen goods). They bought a $45000 boat off some unknown person for just $15000, in cash, within a couple of days of the theft; the trailer was unregistered and lacked plates; the boat's serial number was illegible and the corners had been chipped away as if someone had tried to remove the plate entirely.

    The first man had no real excuse. At least he didn't make much attempt to disguise or conceal the boat, so he presumably didn't know it was stolen. But we judged that he had willfully closed his mind to the possibility that it had been dishonestly obtained, and such recklessness is sufficient for the charges to be upheld.

    The second man was, in all likelihood, no less guilty. But there wasn't enough evidence to convict. His lawyer painted him as a mere "second fiddle", supplying some money to his friend who he trusted to take care of the transaction details. In a police statement he claimed to have asked his friend (the first man) about the suspicious matters: in particular, he claimed to have been told the trailer lacked registration and plates because it was a "bach boat" (and didn't need to be taken on the road), that it was cheap because the seller was in a "divorce situation" and wanted to offload the boat quickly, that he had told his friend to get a receipt, and so forth. The crown couldn't offer any contradicting evidence.

    We had a lot of trouble agreeing on this one. Funnily enough, it was the three women who were gunning for a guilty verdict, against the protestations of the rest of us. After a while, it became clear that we weren't making any progress. (There was much dispute over irrelevant or unimportant points, which I haven't bothered relating to you here.) In an attempt to break the stalemate and get the discussion back on track, I asked our foreman to ask the judge to clarify a point of law regarding 'recklessness'. I drafted up the question, the letter was passed on to the judge, and we were all called back into the courtroom to hear the answer. The consequence of all this was that we (at last) became focused on a single question: Were the suspicions of #2 laid to rest by the answers he received from his trusted friend (#1)? If so, he was innocent; if not, guilty.

    We were pretty evenly split on that question, so had to conclude that there simply wasn't sufficient evidence to establish guilt. All bar one of us soon agreed upon this point, and she (the holdout) eventually gave up in exasperation. So, at about 4pm or so, we returned our verdicts: Guilty for #1, and (if somewhat reluctantly) Not Guilty for #2.

    Now for my general impressions...

    The first two days were very boring. A lot of the evidence and testimony presented seemed trivial. I was surprised by how poor defence lawyer #1 was at questioning witnesses: he was stuttering and hesitant, and sometimes had difficulty framing his questions in a clear way. He was much better at giving speeches to the jury, however - I was reasonably impressed with his opening and closing remarks.

    It was nothing like on TV. Everyone was polite, none of the cross-examinations were the least bit hostile to witnesses. No objections (excepting one polite interruption by one lawyer, but he didn't yell out "objection!" or anything exciting like that). Things all ran very smoothly - almost disappointingly so. Neither defendant testified. Witness testimony was very stark: they outlined the facts (usually just answering "correct" to a long question posed by the lawyers). I expected lawyers to intersperse blunt facts with explanations, drawing out the implications of various statements, e.g. "you previously said that X, so doesn't that mean that...". But there was nothing of that sort; we were left to piece things together ourselves, until the closing statements at least. (That was about the only time we received anything approaching a narrative.)

    Today was really fun though. I guess I just like arguing! The other jurors were a nice bunch of people, and we all got along well, though I found some of the older ones a bit frustrating. (I'm afraid I have a very low tolerance for encroaching senility.) Our eventual verdicts were the ones I'd been arguing for, so I was happy with the outcome. The discussions were lively, but in a good way, and our chosen foreman managed to keep the peace. As we left he personally thanked me for my contributions (we had agreed on several points), which was very nice of him.

    So, that's my experience of jury service. Pretty good, all up. (Oh, and we were treated to a delicious lunch at a local restaurant mid-deliberation today.) I sure am looking forward to being able to sleep in again though!

    Update [6 Feb 05]: The convicted man was eventually sentenced to 150 hours of community service.

    Tuesday, December 14, 2004

    Feeling Justified

    Joe at Oohlah asks "what is a feeling?", and along the way mentions the following:
    We cannot justify feelings; we can only 'have' them. Since they are not justifiable, (I take it) epistemology rejects them.

    Can 'feelings'/intuitions count as epistemic justification? Although my initial intuition suggests 'no', science may provide us with reason to reconsider. (This could give rise to a fun Liar-style paradox. Should I trust my gut instinct that tells me I shouldn't?)

    It might be the case that our feelings arise due to (reliable and accurate) cognitive processing of subconscious cues. For example, I recall Steven Pinker claiming that spouses' suspicions of infidelity are very often accurate, despite their conscious "reason" for the belief being entirely absurd. So if we accept some sort of externalism about justification, then we might well find that beliefs based on inexplicable 'gut feelings' do qualify as justified after all.

    So now I'm half-convinced that they should count, I'm wondering how to reconcile that idea with my own views about justification. Maybe I'm an externalist after all? Or can we count feelings as internal evidence?

    Well, feelings certainly are internal, at least. But their reliability is not something that is known to most of us. So, to use them as internal justification, one would first have to acquire the complementary belief that gut instincts are reliable indicators. They could then be used just like any other form of perception.

    I think I'm happy enough with that, maybe. If someone's only evidence for a belief was their gut feeling, I wouldn't normally consider the belief justified. But if they could say: "I have a gut feeling, and I also know* that gut feelings are often reliable in this context" then I'd be much happier to consider it justified.

    However, I don't know what I'd think if I knew the feelings were reliable but they didn't. And that's really the critical case here. According to my previously outlined views, I should say their belief is not (internally) justified, yet might still count as knowledge. I'm not sure that I do want to say that however. It sounds a bit odd, at least.

    * = Given my internalist justification / externalist knowledge split, should I want this sort of second-order evidence to be known, or internally justified? I'm confused.

    Lastly, I should warn that I'm really exhausted (had to wake up earlier than I'm used to, due to jury service), so this post might not make any sense. I might add a few more thoughts (or clarify existing ones) at some later date. When I'm awake, say.

    Monday, December 13, 2004

    10 000!

    It looks like this blog received its ten thousandth visitor at some point last night. Thanks for dropping by!

    Sunday, December 12, 2004

    Normativity

    One of the biggest philosophical problems I'm struggling to get my head around is that of normativity, or 'ought'-ness. What is it, exactly, and where does it come from?

    I can understand it, I think, if it's meant simply to highlight a means-ends relationship. That is, if the normative force of the 'means' is conditional on our desiring some particular 'ends'. That sort of prescription can be readily reduced to mere description, as discussed in my old post on the is-ought gap.

    It would be nice (theoretically elegant) if all normativity could be explained in such a way. Take epistemic oughts, for example, which relate to what we ought to believe (as rational, truth-seeking agents). Perhaps we could conditionalize those by understanding "you ought to believe X" as elliptical for "if you want true/coherent beliefs, then you ought to believe X", or something along those lines.

    But is that enough - is that all there is to normativity? Or are there some categorical imperatives that we are bound by regardless of our own desires? This is especially challenging when it comes to morality. Torturing children is wrong - something you ought not do. My conditionalizing strategy would see us interpret that as something like "if you want the world to be a better place, then you ought not torture children".

    That conditional is surely true, at least, but it also seems a bit insufficient. For what of the amoralist, who doesn't care whether the world is a 'better place' or not? Can he discharge himself of his moral duties so easily? We feel that the obligation remains - the 'ought' still applies - even if the individual doesn't care about achieving moral ends. Are we simply mistaken in our intuitions here? (Is it mere wishful thinking?) If not, how are we to make sense of these new, unconditional, obligations? How can they exist?

    One other natural source of normativity I've discussed before is that of a framework of standards. By this view, value can be objectively ascribed from within some framework. Normativity can arise from some set of norms. The problem remains, however, that we cannot achieve any absolute normativity that transcends these frameworks. So what can you say to the amoralist who dismisses your moral norms?

    We're in a slightly better position than before, at least, because such norms apply objectively, quite independently of what any individual happens to think of them. We can say: "According to the standards of our community, your action X is objectively wrong and you ought to Y instead." And that's quite true. Of course, the amoralist doesn't care about those standards. But the fact remains that, according to those standards, he has done wrong.

    This is a pyrrhic victory at best, however. After all, there are infinitely many possible frameworks to choose from, so why ought we make judgments from within one rather than another? According to some other set of norms, X may be right and Y wrong. Given the incommensurability of the various competing frameworks, and the lack of any 'absolute' ought-ness that overrides them all, the normativity we're left with seems a bit empty. Nothing is really, objectively, binding - we merely pretend it is by embedding ourselves within some arbitrary framework. Swell.

    If anyone else has any better ideas, I'd sure love to hear them. I guess my concerns here can be split into two broad questions:
    1) Do we need categorical imperatives?
    2) Can we have them?

    Friday, December 10, 2004

    Externalist Internalism

    I agree with Marc Alspector-Kelly (via Undetached Rabbit Parts) that it's useful to separate the internalism/externalism debate about justification, from the parallel debate about knowledge. It sounds like these are often run together (since people often assume that 'justification' is a conceptual component of 'knowledge'), but I can't go along with that because - like Marc - I'm an internalist about justification but prefer externalism about knowledge.

    I take it that justification relates to what we (epistemically) ought to believe, based on the evidence available to us. When put like that, it's practically internalist by definition. Externalism claims that what matters is (partly) external to the agent - not accessible to introspection. But if such properties are not internally "available to us", then we cannot use them as evidence when judging what to believe. So they can play no role in justifying our beliefs. [Though cf. John at FBC.] If they have importance (as they do), it is for something besides justification.

    That 'something', I suggest, is knowledge. Internalism doesn't work for knowledge, because knowledge requires a more objective 'truth-connection', that mere internal justification may not provide (see, e.g., Gettier cases). Of course, truth itself is another component of knowledge, but I don't just mean that. Rather, our reasons for belief must be somehow tied to the truth. I won't go into any detail here though; see Marc's paper for a better explanation.

    (By the way, my favourite account of knowledge is Keith DeRose's possible-worlds externalism, which I mention in my skepticism overview, and explain in more detail here. For justification, however, I favour coherentism - a belief is justified to the extent that it coheres with our other beliefs.)

    Perhaps some epistemologists use the word "justification" stipulatively to simply mean "whatever it is that must be added to true belief to yield knowledge". But then, they're not really talking about justification at all, but some other concept altogether - namely, whatever knowledge has over true belief.

    So, I'm wondering, is there any reason not to separate the two debates as I (following Marc) have done here?

    Philosophy Band

    Via DTWW, I came across a band called The Monads. Follow the link to download their songs. "Counterparts" is especially good.

    The "Morally Superior"

    John Holbo joins in the framing wars:
    Now the striking thing about 'politically correct' is that it really means the same as 'moral values', as per Republican rhetoric and post-election polls, etc. Both terms denote sets of moral beliefs which are held strongly enough that believers are prepared to impose them on others, politically. Obviously the sets in question are different, but the thing that makes the term toxic to the bearer is actually the connotation. The elist moral superiority of it. So what we need is an appropriate analog to pin on conservatives. There ought to be one, by rights, since the Republicans surely are elitists, and they surely do think they are highly morally superior.

    Once you put the problem that way, the solution is obvious. Let's get in the habit of calling Republican moral elitists: 'the moral elite'. 'morally elite', 'moral elitists'. Just use the terms as flat descriptors for anyone proposing to legislate morality in any of the usual ways. Just to change things up, sometimes you use: 'morally superior' to designate the attitude. And 'moral superiors' to designate the tribe. Maybe you start to distinguish, as a matter of course, between legislation that ensures 'moral superiority' and the regular stuff. Talk about Repubicans taking 'necessary moral superiority measures'.

    The beauty of it is that 'morally superior' is already a term of faint opprobrium. It conotes petty social snobbery and schoolmarmery and so forth. It stinks. And it fits. Perfect for our purposes. And 'moral superiors' sounds worse.

    It should be hard for Republicans to unstick this stuff from themselves, if accurately applied, because what are they going to do: deny that they are morally superior? In the context of, say, proposing to legislate against gay marriage, can they deny that they think they are morally superior to those who think this stuff would be alright? If they deny they are morally superior, then what do they think they are doing? Letting your neighbor be is such a fundamental American value that it is very embarrassing to be on the wrong side of it, as Republican often are these days.

    It's an interesting idea. I'm not really sure we want to be calling our side "morally inferior", though Holbo implies we could use it with the same hip irony associated with being "politically incorrect".

    Also, I wonder if we might have trouble making the 'elitism' charge stick. For one thing, the epithet might be so strongly associated with attacking our side that we can't turn it around as Holbo suggests. Further, from my vantage point, the culture war in the U.S. appears (very roughly) to be between educated liberals and the ignorant bible-thumping masses. At least, that's the way it's often framed. Republican "morality" is illiberal and authoritarian, but it also has populist roots. And it just strikes me as odd to call a tyranny of the majority "elitist".

    Besides, I generally don't much like insulting people for 'elitism'. I would explain why, but a picture's worth a thousand words: (via Evolving Thoughts)



    Maybe liberals could restore some meaning to the poor battered word, but I think I'd rather not dirty my hands with it. Even without it, the core of Holbo's idea still stands: denouncing the "moral superiority" of authoritarian conservatives seems quite fitting. It might even work.

    Thursday, December 09, 2004

    Universal Voluntary Euthanasia

    (The usual disclaimer: the following is to float some ideas; I don't necessarily endorse any of them.)

    Death is usually a bad thing, but there are exceptions. A life which promises nothing but suffering makes that 'nothing' look good in comparison. So I take it that euthanasia is justified at least in certain medical cases involving a debilitating terminal illness. This post is intended to build on that assumption (so if you categorically oppose euthanasia, just pretend otherwise for the sake of argument). What I'm wondering is: does this assumption commit us to a much more radical acceptance of state-supported suicide, and if so, is that a bad thing?

    The bridging idea here is that terminal illnesses are not the only form of suffering. You don't need to be in a hospital bed to judge that your life is no longer worth living. So if we accept that people have a moral (and legal) right to end their own lives in the one case, wouldn't those same rights also extend to the other?

    To clarify: I'm generally no fan of rights talk, but simply use them as a shortcut to utility. The real issue for me, then, is that if we trust the terminally ill to accurately judge when their continued living would create negative utility, why shouldn't we also trust the physically healthy (who may be suffering just as much in other ways)?

    One possibility is that the terminally ill are more likely to be correct in their pessimistic judgments. If they are going to die soon anyway, and their physical health is deteriorating, then it may be unlikely that life could surprise them in a positive way. However, otherwise-healthy people contemplating suicide are probably more likely to be irrational in doing so. It would certainly be tragic to throw away one's life because of a temporary bout of depression.

    But that doesn't necessarily imply a total ban is best. Perhaps we should simply require that the state be extremely careful in assessing those who declare a desire to end their lives.

    There could be some benefit to the State providing a euthanasia service. For one thing, by making counseling a compulsory requirement for applicants, it might help prevent suicides. If someone goes and jumps off a bridge, there's not much we can do to help them (not without some difficulty, at least). But if they go to a state facility, we might be able to get them the help they need.

    A second advantage, regarding those few who cannot be dissuaded, is that this way they might at least have a more pleasant end. Suicide is often grisly and painful. If the State can provide a quality service which makes a suffering person's last moments more bearable, then I guess that's some small blessing, right?

    Perhaps the biggest problem I can see with this idea, is that the service would probably either be futile or monstrous. Presumably the vast majority of people who (want to) commit suicide are making a mistake. So if the state service accurately assesses that, then it would almost never go through with killing anyone. But if someone really wants to die, and knows the State facility won't grant that wish, then they'd have no reason to go there. They'd just kill themselves the old-fashioned way. So the service would be pointless. Alternatively, if they carry through and kill people who continue to irrationally wish it, then the service is monstrous. (Surely the last thing we want is to encourage more tragic/unnecessary deaths.)

    So there might be a problem in finding the right balance here. How paternalistic should we be with regard to the choices of the suicidal? Perhaps some sort of compromise is in order. One might require that the person complete a range of requirements (e.g. extended counseling), but once they finally do so, the ultimate choice is entirely their own. That might be enough to entice the suicidal, while nevertheless making a positive difference by saving people's lives.

    Perhaps an even bigger problem would be getting people to use such a service in the first place. If someone really can't bear to live any longer, then they're probably just going to 'off' themselves immediately, rather than trudge over to some government office and get bogged down in bureaucratic requirements (e.g. the counseling) for weeks or months. This is really the same old conflict between 'monstrous' and 'futile'; between the individual's suicidal wishes and the State's interest in saving them.

    But at least it might get the attention of those who don't really want to kill themselves, but aren't sure what else to do. The service might be able to help them; but then it would seem no different from the "Lifeline"-style counseling services we already provide.

    To be a worthwhile new service, the Universal Voluntary Euthanasia centre would actually have to kill people. And that's not a pleasant thought. What's worse, to be a success we would likely have to market that service to those who would otherwise commit suicide on their own. We'd have to convince people that the UVE service is preferable to a DIY approach. "Leave it to the professionals", or some such message. But can you advocate a suicide provider without (ipso facto) encouraging suicide itself? If not, it looks like we'd end up firmly down the 'monstrous' side of the scale.

    I guess from a utilitarian point of view, these practical difficulties are enough to set UVE apart from the more traditional, medical euthanasia. While the latter may be beneficial, we can see why the former would likely do more harm than good.

    So, my biggest question is whether anyone can see a way to get the described UVE service to work; a way to balance the twin threats of futility and monstrosity.

    A second question is whether one can justify allowing traditional euthanasia, but not UVE, on non-utilitarian grounds.

    Your thoughts?