Sue asked:

Your question would be better directed to a physicist! However, the following is my understanding of the concept of entropy:

The so-called 'law of entropy' is not a physical law but rather a mathematical theorem derived a priori from probability theory. If you spill a bag of sugar on the floor it is possible, but extremely improbable, that the crystals will spell your name. Randomly scattered crystals are in a lower 'state of entropy' than crystals that spell out your name, or indeed crystals neatly packed together in a bag.

In the case of two bodies in contact which start off at different temperatures, there are immeasurably many more ways in which the speeds of the random motions of molecules might even out compared to ways in which the difference in the speed of motions might possibly increase. Hence, 'You can't pass heat from a cooler body to a hotter body'. Not necessarily true, but rather a statement of probability.

How might entropy be reversed? The assumption of the law of entropy is that we are dealing with random processes. As soon as you introduce purposiveness or intentionality, the law no longer applies. Every deliberate human action — even deliberately destructive actions — involves a reversal of entropy. Order is created. Letters are formed on a page, spelling out meaningful words, or a stone is aimed and thrown (with the result in this case that entropy is decreased somewhere else — a shattered window).

Darwin's theory of evolution is a theory designed to explain how mechanically random processes can give rise to structures which serve as entropy-decreasers.

Geoffrey Klempner

Cuti asked:

There is no necessary connection — in this world — between 'the good' and power, nor indeed between 'the evil' and power. Nor is virtue always rewarded or vice always punished.

I fancy Boethius knew this.

There are two responses to this challenge to virtue:

1. The Christian response: In the world to come, all injustices will be put right. The virtuous will be rewarded and the evil punished.

2. The philosophical response: Socrates said, 'It is worse to do wrong than to suffer it.' He meant, better for your soul. This view comes closer to Buddhist philosophy. Virtue gives you inner 'strength'. The vicious are inwardly 'weak'.

My main objection to response 1. is not that the existence of a 'world to come' is doubtful, but rather that it reduces moral virtue to prudent self-interest. I prefer response 2. although I am not altogether happy with the Socratic doctrine of the 'unity of the virtues' which it implies. According to Socrates, it is impossible for an evil man to possess the virtue of courage. That is a difficult claim to defend.

- So what does one say when one looks around at a world where 'the evil' rejoice in their material rewards and prosperity? I say let them have it. The good should by all means do their utmost to pursue power, otherwise evil stands unopposed. It is my sincere belief, however, that the good have a better life.

Geoffrey Klempner

Deepti asked:

Knowledge of any object beyond pure surface appearances (if there are such things) involves knowledge of what it will do in such-and-such circumstances. This knowledge is based on past experience. Therefore, with no knowledge of the past, there would be little, or possibly no knowledge at all.

Simon asked:

Your idea is promising. A similar line is taken by Thomas Nagel in 'The View from Nowhere' OUP p126 ff. where he talks about our necessary 'blind spot' concerning the physical springs of our actions. The problem is that assuming it can be shown that we must necessarily think of ourselves as 'free', that isn't the same as being free. It doesn't give us what we want. (Of course, one could raise the philosophical question, Just what do we want from 'free will'?) Perhaps one way for you to investigate this problem further would be to draw up a list of different examples of 'necessary illusions'. When, if ever, is a proof that it is impossible — for whatever reason — not to believe in X tantamount to a proof of X?

The line you actually took in your discussion has the serious drawback that it appears to assume that we are not 'free' only because we are determined to act by our electro-chemical nature. If that assumption were correct, then you would have every right to retort, 'Yes, but how do you know determinism is true?' However, the assumption turns out to be incorrect. Assume that there is an element of indeterminism in the physical processes that lead to human action. Instead of thinking of myself as a calculating machine, I think of myself as a calculating machine with a randomising device attached. That gives me no more right to 'take the credit' for actions I do than I had before. Whether I choose to go right or left is a matter of the luck of the dice.

Geoffrey Klempner

Richa asked:

A good way to focus the question about content is to look at proper names. John McDowell's seminal paper on the sense and reference of proper names is one you should read. Gareth Evans' book on Reference is also a must.

Let's say you have met someone introduced to you as 'Foster'. It's Greg Foster, a second year PhD. Unknown to you, Greg has a twin brother Charles, who also happens to be doing a PhD. According to the view that mental content is 'outside the head', when you use the name 'Foster' you succeed in referring to Greg. The content of your thoughts consists in thoughts about Greg, not Charles. Yet so far as your capacity to identify Greg Foster is concerned, you could not tell Greg and Charles apart.

How can that be?

Wittgenstein puts the point graphically when he says that if God could look into your mind, He would not see whom you were referring to.

This idea should strike you as deeply paradoxical. Too often, I have heard students talk as if it is the plainest common sense. If you are going to tackle this topic successfully, you need to be aware of the power of the temptation think that meaning must be in the head, that God must be able to read the content of my thoughts by looking into my mind.

Geoffrey Klempner

Marie asked:

I mentioned your question to an ex-student of mine who has just started a post-graduate program in education. Her subject is mathematics. She just said 'social constructivism'. I don't know if that term means anything to you!

In the UK, the educational philosophy you describe is now widespread in primary schools (up to age 11). In secondary schools there is still a fierce battle going on between the progressive view, and the back-to-basics 'chalk and talk' approach that gained renewed impetus in the Margaret Thatcher years.

I have a couple of comments on what you have said. In Japanese schools, there is intense pressure of competition, with students swotting long hours to pass the required exams. That is obviously not the 'high energy' you are talking about. You mean that students should be filled with enthusiasm for the subject of their study, and that it is the job of the teacher to generate that enthusiasm.

'Diverse teaching techniques' looks to me like a description of the means, rather than the end. Suppose that we found that one particular teaching technique worked superbly well in generating enthusiasm and filling the students with new experiences. Wouldn't it be right to concentrate on that technique rather than alternate between different methods, some of which were inferior?

My primary aim in teaching philosophy has always been to generate enthusiasm for the subject. I have always thought that this was because of the nature of philosophy. It is impossible to teach philosophy to those who are not gripped by its problems.

Geoffrey Klempner

David asked:

The reflexivity of philosophical inquiry is an exceedingly difficult problem to grapple with.

My question to you would be, Why is it so important that you should be able to raise your question from a completely neutral, 'unbiased' standpoint?

It is an error to think that because a question has presuppositions, it is impossible to investigate those presuppositions. What you do instead is formulate a new question (yes, with new presuppositions!) which investigates the presuppositions of the first question.

In other words, when faced with the impossibility of 'starting from nowhere', one adopts a dialectical approach. The resulting inquiry will necessarily be open-ended, but that is not an objection to undertaking the inquiry in the first place.

It's worth looking at Hegel's 'Science of Logic' for the most impressive attempt ever made to solve the problem of beginnings in philosophy. Little of it is believable, but it is nevertheless highly instructive to follow the determined efforts of a philosopher who was very much aware of the problem you describe.

Geoffrey Klempner

Marianne asked:

The statement, 'Our passions lead us astray' implies that when we make a decision, there is something which reason tells us is the right thing to do, either because it is what we morally ought to do, or because it is in our best self-interest to do it. However, in some cases our decision is swayed because of the influence of our emotions, our 'passions'. The result is that we make the wrong decision.

The best way to approach this question is to think of some good examples. Think of cases where one might talk of being led astray morally by our emotions, and also of cases where we fail to do what's best for us because of the influence of our emotions.

However, it is not always true that reason is the thing that tells us what is right, and passion is the thing that leads us astray. It is our passions, in the form of our capacity for sympathy for the suffering of others, which in many cases shows us what is the right thing to do. Sometimes, too, when we do something wrong, it is not because we are led astray by our passions but because our reasoning is at fault.

Geoffrey Klempner

Ian asked:

What would be a genuine philosophical question? That is as difficult as asking, What is philosophy? I don't know of a satisfactory general answer. I would simply give examples: 'This and this is a philosophical question, but not that.' Socrates, who was always demanding general definitions of concepts, would not have approved. But Socrates didn't know everything.

The Presocratic philosopher Thales is said to be the first 'philosopher', but from the evidence, he and his immediate successors did not distinguish between physics and philosophy. Aristotle, however, in his 'Metaphysics' defines 'first philosophy' as the study of being qua being. In doing so, however, Aristotle was following the example of the Presocratic philosopher Parmenides, who called the theories of the Greek 'physikoi' — including his own physical theory — the 'Way of Opinion', by contrast with the 'Way of Truth' which consists of the logical consequences of the proposition, 'It is'. — But metaphysics is only part of philosophy, not the whole of it.

The British philosopher R.G. Collingwood, in his 'Essay on Metaphysics' and 'Autobiography' describes a fascinating theory which defines truth as an answer to a question. A question always has presuppositions, some of which can vary with historical circumstances. Although condemned by other philosophers as excessively historicist, I think that Collingwood's theory of questions and presuppositions has a lot going for it.

I am unable to answer your fourth question. It is news to me that 'the question' has special importance in Maori society.

Geoffrey Klempner

Andy asked:

Dennett must mean something more by the notion of 'norms' than merely 'what we would expect to find' or 'what we know from previous knowledge'. He is concerned with a special class of objects to which what he terms the 'intentional stance' is appropriate. Objects of this kind exhibit goal directedness of some sort or another.

A human being is goal directed, so is an ant, so is the humble thermostat. The essence of goal directedness is the capacity to represent some aspect of the world, and the ability to respond appropriately to what is so represented. Some goal directed objects are designed by human beings, others (such as ourselves) are designed by evolution.

The interpretation of human behaviour is governed by norms of rationality. In order to be able to make sense of a person's actions, it is necessary to assume that they are fairly rational, for example in the way they form beliefs. In 'interpreting' the behaviour of an ant, we have to assume that the ant is fulfilling its role in the ant colony. So one can speak of 'norms' of ant behaviour. But there is a 'norm' too for thermostats. The thermostat has to respond appropriately to the changes in temperature which it detects.

Language use gives a special meaning to the concept of normativity, I would argue, which is absent when the concept is applied to non-language speaking animals and to artefacts. It is this richer sense of normativity that the Oxford Companion article is talking about.

Geoffrey Klempner