John asked:

Please give me a definition of a "right".

Please start the definition with: "A right is ......", and do not use the word "right" after the verb.

Some human rights are universal, and some are not. If one has a right solely by virtue of being human, then that right is universal: it applies universally, that is, to all members of the class of beings called "human." For example, one has the right to live unmolested by others just because one is a human being. It is a universal human right. We may also call it a "negative" right because having the right confers no benefit on the rights-bearer. Also, we meet our obligation to respect each other's universal human rights at no cost to ourselves.

There are some rights, however, which one subset of human beings has while other subsets do not. They are rights particular to those subsets. For example, the right to cast one's vote for a candidate for the Presidency of the United States (or any elected office of any country) is a particular human right. Being human is a necessary but not a sufficient condition of having the right to vote: there are other conditions that one must also satisfy (e.g., being a citizen of a certain country, being of a certain age, legal status, etc.).

Another example is the right to receive payment for goods or services. When people voluntarily undertake to exchange certain goods or services (either for money or for other goods or services), each party gains rights in what the other offered in exchange. These particular rights may be called "positive" because they confer benefits on those who have them. Also, positive rights are honored at a cost, either voluntarily assumed (as in economic exchange, e.g., I owe you money and you owe me goods or services) or involuntarily imposed (as in a governmental electoral system that is paid for by taxes).

A right is not an observable property of the being that has it, but the correlative of a moral prohibition: "Do not do this to (or, do not refrain from doing this for) this being." A right is a moral boundary line. A physical boundary line either can or cannot be crossed. A moral boundary line, however, can but may not be crossed. Human (and other) beings are values that morally limit the kinds of actions that human beings, who are capable of appreciating those values, may take. Justifying this (or any other) theory of right, however, would require working out a general theory of value, which we obviously cannot do here.

Tony Flood

Rocio asked:

What are some of the common responses to the Utilitarian analysis of animal cruelty? (e.g. Peter Singer's classic Animal Liberation). If it is an undeniable fact that animals suffer, and eating animals is unnecessary (at least for developed nations) then why would anyone be justified ethically to eat meat?

As far as I understand them, Peter Singer's arguments against eating meat are based on the utilitarian principle that ethical actions are those which create the most utility (pleasure, happiness etc.). Since the wholesale slaughter of animals obviously does not increase the sum total of happiness in the world, then this practice is unethical. Singer may also be understood as working from a negative utilitarian position. In other words, the morally correct action is that which reduces the total amount of suffering in the world. Again, abolishing the slaughter of millions of animals would, from this perspective, seem like the moral course of action. Suffering and distress are real phenomena which all sentient beings are capable of experiencing. To claim that human suffering is more real or should be given more consideration in making moral decisions is, according to Singer, 'speciesist'.

The main challenges to Singer's ideas come from a variety of positions. Some are general arguments used by opponents of utilitarianism as an ethical theory, and some are specifically aimed at Singer's ideas. I will examine both types here:

General criticisms of utilitarianism as an ethical theory

Can utility be measured? One major problem with utilitarianism is that moral agents (those who carry out moral or immoral acts) are required to calculate the total amount of utility produced with each action. When we take into consideration just how difficult this calculation/ prediction really is, utilitarianism ceases to be a practical ethical approach. And now that Singer has made us aware that the sensations of non-human animals are to be included in this calculation, the job gets several times more complicated. Of course, Singer could respond by admitting that we can perhaps never calculate the exact amount of utility produced, but that it is also fairly obvious that the mass slaughter of animals does cause real distress of a scale that outweighs any happiness produced from the eating of the meat.

Could utilitarianism sanction "unjust" actions? A very common argument levelled against the utilitarian approach is that its insistence on looking only to the total amount of utility produced endorses all kinds of actions that seem intuitively to be unethical. For example, homeless people with no family or friends could be secretly snatched from the street, killed and their organs donated to save the lives of ten people who are in desperate need of new organs. On a strictly utilitarian basis this type of action is morally justified. The loss of one unit capable of experiencing happiness (the homeless person) is outweighed by the happiness gained by the ten ill people and their families as the spare organs become available. Our "common sense" morality tells us that there is something wrong with this type of action. Because of these unattractive possibilities, utilitarianism seems to be inadequate as a guide to morality. If this is the case, then Singer cannot use utilitarianism as a guide to our interaction with non-human animals.

What about rights and duties? The above criticism can be used to suggest that there are some other moral principles that are more acceptable than utilitarianism. Because of the problems with looking to the consequences and viewing utility as the only important consequence, other thinkers have argued that humans have duties towards each other (and perhaps the natural world) or that humans (and some animals) have rights. Such ideas have the advantage of avoiding the difficulties of utilitarianism. It would be possible to claim that humans have a duty to treat animals with respect and so claim that eating meat is morally wrong. It may also be claimed that animals have a right not to be eaten. The main problems that face these ideas are in the attempt to rationally justify them. Why should animals be treated with respect? Why should animals have rights? Which animals?

Specific criticisms of Singer's ideas

One specific criticism against Singer's ideas comes from what can be very loosely described as the "Deep Ecology" movement. This philosophical position is one that attempts to locate intrinsic value in nature. In other words, deep ecology wants to show that nature (including non-human animals) is morally valuable in its own right. A leopard is valuable not because humans find it very beautiful to look at, not because it is an endangered species, but simply because it is a leopard. Its value exists independently of any pleasure or benefit it provides to humans and, perhaps more controversially, its value exists even in the absence of a human to value it. This perspective sees Singer's utilitarianism as a philosophy that ignores the intrinsic value of animals. It only deals with those beings physically capable of suffering. All non-sentient creatures are disregarded. Non-human animals have a moral relevance only if they are capable of suffering. It is also worth noting that Singer's utilitarianism would sanction the suffering of a small number of non-human animals if the overall total of utility were increased. For deep ecologists, this is simply not good enough. They argue that Singer's utilitarianism, because of its failure to recognise the intrinsic value of non-human animals, perpetuates the very same human-centred worldview that encourages the exploitation and degradation of the non-human world.

The deep ecologists do have a point here. Singer's utilitarian approach, based on the assumption that suffering is to be avoided, doesn't necessarily have to lead to vegetarianism. Imagine a slaughterhouse where all the animals were unaware of their imminent death (and so were not distressed), and where death was completely pain free (assuming this could be proven). It would be very difficult for Singer to condemn this.

Some deep ecologists also question Singer's (and others) idea that animal liberation is a good idea. Most deep ecologists view the stability, diversity and beauty of the ecosystem as the goal of ethics. Humans ought to act in ways that promote this goal. Releasing all the captive farm animals and abolishing the practice of eating meat would almost certainly upset the fragile balance of an already damaged ecosystem. For these thinkers, mass animal liberation is unethical.

There is also an extreme position with the very impressive title of biocentric egalitarianism. This position states that anything that is alive should be treated with equal moral consideration. In its extreme and perhaps somewhat caricatured form, this position would argue that a blade of grass should be given the same moral consideration as a leopard or a human. From this perspective, Singer's ideas are not radical enough.

Simon Drew

Ross asked:

Sir, What do you think of The Book of Enoch? I am a Christian with many questions. I am wandering why it was left out of the Bible. Should it be read as a book of fact or a book fiction?

I think with religious writings it highly depends on the way of reading and comprehension, whether someone regards this work to be fact or fiction. For example to a logical positivist religious writing often is contradictory in itself and it's assertions are not empirically provable and therefore religious writing is worthless fiction. On the other hand to a truly believing person the same writing is fact, because it is inspired by if not directly the word of God.

Your other question, why the Book of Enoch was left out of the Bible, is easier to answer straightly: The Book of Enoch, also known as Ethiopic Enoch, fell into disfavour among powerful theologians because of its controversial descriptions of the nature and deeds of the fallen angels. That's why the Enochian writings (among many others) were omitted from the Bible.

But once he Book of Enoch was considered to be among the biblical apocryphal writings and was highly appreciated by the early church fathers, among them St. Augustine, and so there might be much more profane reasons for later banning writings like the Book of Enoch from the biblical canon.

Apocryphal is derived from the Greek and means "hidden" or "secret." Originally it had a positive meaning, and was applied to sacred books with contents considered to be too exalted to be made available to the general public.

Little by little the idea was accepted that such books were left to be read by the wise. Therefore, the term "apocrypha" began taking on a negative meaning to the orthodoxy, who felt being kept in the dark by not being told the teachings of these books. The clergy that was not admitted into these esoteric circles, because they were thought not to be enlightened, soon banned apocryphal material heretical, which meant: forbidden to read for all. As a result the book was lost for a thousand years. But the Book of Enoch eventually reappeared. It was brought to England by the explorer James Bruce, who found three copies of the Book of Enoch during an expedition to Ethiopia. Later it was translated by Dr. Richard Laurence, an Oxford Hebrew professor, that gave the modern world its first glimpse of the Enochian mysteries.

It might be interesting for you, that there is some proof that Christ Himself approved of the Book of Enoch. Over a hundred phrases in the New Testament find precedents in the Book of Enoch. Two of these phrase are in the Book of Jude: vs. 14 tells us that "Enoch, the seventh from Adam, prophesied..." Jude also, in vs. 15, makes a direct reference to the Book of Enoch (2:1), where he writes, "to execute judgment on all, to convict all who are ungodly..." The time difference between Enoch and Jude is approximately 3400 years. Therefore, Jude's reference to the Enochian prophesies shows, that these written prophecies were available to him at that time.

Simone Klein

Catherine asked:

What are the limitations of, and errors in the three doctrines of Gorgias?

In examining Gorgias summary of his book, On Being or On Nature, the reader is presented with only surviving fragments recorded by Sextus Empiricus. In these fragments, Gorgias presents his Rhetorical paradox. First, that nothing exists, second, that if anything exists it is incomprehensible, and third, that even if anything is comprehensive it is incommunicable.

Although these statements have been classified by some of his critics as satirical, the work of Tim Rohrer offers a more interesting interpretation. Given Gorgias's preoccupation with rhetoric, Rohrer states that Gorgias could be hinting that rhetoric is simply not all it is made up to be. It may not be the argument that should decide an argument — why not look at the process of inquiry. Whether Gorgias was a true Sophist or not, he displayed their attitude of doubting the possibility of discovering anything that was really true. If as the Sophists advocated, that knowledge is in the strict sense unattainable, then Gorgias may be suggesting that the individual must consider that reason itself and logic are but human ways of thinking. This demonstrates for Gorgias that the individual may or may not have any objective validity concerning reality. One can conclude that there is no valid way of discerning that rational is better or truer than irrational thinking in proving one's conclusion. It is experience, that which is derived by the sense, that organizes the principles of our minds.

This organization then is the result of our thinking experience. One needs to go beyond the boundaries placed by rhetoric and reason to the essence of the ideas of reality. That essence is revealed by the senses where there are no fixed conclusions, but only inquiry. Inquiry, which cannot decipher the externally existing objects by words or language. Since no one thinks the same as another, language cannot communicate to another. What Gorgias sees is a conflict between the limitations of words and the expression of reality. This position resembles the deconstructionism applied to literary criticism, that the work in question should not be considered for its objective worth, but for what it represents in human thought to the perceiver. Gorgias was dealing with Epistemic Rhetoric, which according to Covino, maintains that truth is not conveyed by either the text nor is it conveyed by the individual. Truth is born in the transaction between the mediums, whether this is the reader, speaker, writer or listener. In the final analysis, it is the communication that constructs the truth and therefore Knowledge. To bring this to fruition, the what and why of Knowledge must be known to the individuals. This knowledge is subjective, developed through the construction of knowledge through the interaction of the individuals in their use of language. In modern terms, this can lead to a deconstruction or complete subjectivism, leaving no way of assessing the truth except by the agreement of individuals in a given exchange of language. Yet even in this agreement, there is no way of confirming the validity of the statements.

The major flaw of the doctrines that one would need to address is, if nothing exists then why go to the length to set out a series of doctrines which have no meaning to begin with.

John Eberts

Maria asked:

I am writing a paper on the concept or relationship between Plato's theory of age and experience. Plato suggests that no one can become king until they have gone through a series of training. I need to find out what is the concept between age and experience? Is the concept suggesting that experience is more important than age or vice versa?

Socrates: There can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger?
Glaucon: Clearly.
Scorates: And that the best of these must rule?
Glaucon: That is also clear.

Plato, The Republic

The rulers of Plato's ideal city are to be chosen when they are over 50 years old, afteręa long process of education and progressive selection — at the end of each stage of their education, only the best students are allowed to progress to the next stage.

Education of the people to produce good citizens and rulers is to start in childhood, when people are most easily influenced. Plato approves the use of a kind of censorship to ensure that the influences on children are good. They should be exposed only to beautiful and graceful sights and sounds (Republic, Book 3). Selected kinds of music and literature would then be taught, along with physical education. A balanced mixture of these is to be used, to avoid the danger of the student becoming either too aggressive (from too much physical education), or too soft and weak (from too much music and literature). The students are to be observed, to see which of them excel in all the things they have learnt so far, then, when they are 20 years old, the best students are to be selected and given further education, in which mathematics plays a large part. At 30 years old, a selection is to be made again, and the selected students taught 'dialectic' (the philosophical method of questioning and discussion). Plato mentions that students must not be taught dialectic any younger, or they will be inclined to argue just for fun, rather than discussing things in order to learn.

Demosthenes asked:

I can't fathom the claims that Christianity and the Ancient Greek Thinking somehow converged? or that somehow Jewish beliefs of obedience were bridged through Christian love to freedom?

From it's very early development Christianity quickly moved from being a local religious sect (based in 1st Century Palestine) to moving into the world surrounding. This world was not just the physical world, but also the world of ideas and concepts. Part of this world was the world of Hellenic philosophy.

When Christianity encountered Hellenic philosophy it quickly found that it had a 'ready made' philosophical language with which to frame its religious ideas, or faith belief. Notions of 'the One' from the Neoplatonists, the 'Logos' were easily merged with the profound religious ideas for the Christian God, Jesus, the Trinity. Thus in the opening of the Gospel of John, Jesus becomes the incarnation of the pre-existent Logos of Stoic/Platonic philosophy. The Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, become the Three Hypostases, and one Ousia.

The language and idea of Ancient Greek Thought, particularly as it was used by the Hellenic educated early thinkers of the Church e.g. Origen of Alexandria, Clement of Alexandria, Augustine of Hippo etc., quickly became the language of Christian theology.

There was a merging of ideas and experiences, and an existent form of language was used to give shape and 'flesh' to a primitive religion experience i.e. Jesus becomes more than a 1st century itinerant preacher who did good things, to the enfleshment of the the Second Hypostasis of the Trinity and is himself understood by the Council of Chalcedon in the 5th century to be TWO PHUSIS and ONE PROPOSPON.

The interaction between the language of philosophy and the world/experience of faith is something that has been been constant throughout Christianity. There was certainly a merging and inter/intra action between Hellenic philosophy and Christianity. This heavily influenced the ideas and concepts of both these experiences and changed them dramatically. In the same way at the practical level, Christianity's engagement with Roman structuralism, and law dramatically reshaped it into something more than a local religious sect. The work of the Medieval Christian Scholastics is testament to the impact of Ancient Greek Philosophy on Christian thought. The arrival of Aristotle through the work of the Islamic philosophers, especially, Averroes and Avicenna, again gave Christianity a new, vibrant language fro giving expressing to what essentially cannot be articulated -the experience of faith.

Fr Seamus Mulholland OFM

Emma asked:

I have a question that I am having difficulty with. It is: What role does truth play in Popper's philosophy?

If you could give me some guidelines and outline some of the key concepts that would be great!

Popper was concerned with scientific truth — more specifically, the truth of scientific theories. His main claim is that we can never prove the truth of a theory — only disprove it. Put simply, this is because we would have to look at an infinite number of cases to see they all happen as the scientific theory predicts, while a single failure to happen as predicted falsifies the theory. This account of science as falsifiability is very influential. Although it has some problems and is not widely accepted now, I think it would be fair to say that most modern philosophy of science is based in developments from Popper's ideas.

Tim Sprod

According to Popper, what demarcates scientific claims from non-scientific claims is that scientific claims are falsifiable. This is a point about justification. The scientist makes conjectures, which may be based on little or no evidence. These conjectures can be experimentally tested, that is the only justification the scientist needs for making them. However, Popper is a realist about truth. The scientist can make a conjecture, and in the absence of any decisive experiment they may never know whether their conjecture is in fact true, or in fact false.

Michael Dummett, in his writings on the clash between realism and anti-realism, describes a 'falsifiability conditions' theory of meaning by analogy with a 'verification conditions' theory of meaning (see Truth and Other Enigmas Duckworth 1980). Both theories as Dummett conceives them are anti-realist, in that they deny that the notion of the 'truth out there' plays any role in our understanding of the language in which we make statements about how things are, or might be. This is emphatically not Popper's view.

Geoffrey Klempner

Charlene asked:

I am a Maltese student, and at the College I attend, me and my friends are doing a magazine on cloning. Obviously, one cannot talk about cloning without looking at the ethical point of view of the subject. So, I decided to ask you, dear sir/ madam, about the ethical point of view on cloning. I thank you in anticipation for your information.

Remember Socrates: "know thyself"? And many others, who said the same? Let us say, then, that knowing how to clone is good, if self-knowledge is good. Then we ask, is acting on this knowledge good? But how is that question answered? One cannot answer, generally, the question of when knowledge should be applied.

Is any self-knowledge intrinsically bad or evil? I suppose that if one knew nothing except how to kill, and that particular knowledge could only be applied to that end (and I actually do not know any such — even weapons programs have implications in other realms), then that knowledge would be intrinsically evil. But cloning is not in this category (look at animal husbandry, below).

Well, then, we're left with the typical dilemma of any knowledge that could be applied for good or for evil, aren't we. We then ask how cloning should be applied. Can it be applied for good? It would seem reasonable that as far as animal husbandry goes, for example, cloning the most successful animal of a given type would eliminate much of the genetic roulette of breeding programs. So cloning of animals could have great beneficial effects, and probably not too many deleterious effects (and I'm assuming that we've got the technology down, so that the animals don't start dropping dead, breeding monsters, etc.... those are clearly not necessary implications of cloning). So cloning could be applied for good.

What about cloning of humans? First, is it intrinsically bad? Well, we now have artificial insemination for a variety of reasons, and that is not regarded as bad, so if we take that attitude to be a correct judgment, the "artificial" aspect is not intrinsically bad. Is a clone the "same" person as the original? Obviously not, no more than an identical twin is. To object that the rich could clone themselves is to neglect the fact that the rich can also have multitudes of children (and do) if they wish. Could cloning be used to generate thousands of identical soldiers? Yes, perhaps. Would that be bad? If soldiers are necessary for a country, then it is good to have them. To raise someone, from birth, however, without letting them choose, as anything in particular is almost certainly bad, because of the lack of choice, assuming that it is good to let someone choose their own life. Could cloning be used to generate the twin of a great scientist or artist (philosopher, even) who died too soon? Yes, and that might be good; at least, the world would have another with the same potential.

The emotional issue seems to be that "test tube production" of people is bad. But if we look at that, we find that it is not actually the "test tube" aspect, as we have seen above, but the "production" aspect that is abhorrent. But what's the difference between that and having thousands of women, even as volunteers, producing babies for any set purpose? The problem is the lack of choice and dignity, which could result from any type of human breeding program.

Steven Ravett Brown

Natasha asked:

Do animals think? I personally believe that they do, but it is really hard to back it up. What is thinking like? and lastly, What is thinking?

I would recommend starting with the last question. Philosophers such as Wilfred Sellars define thinking in such a way that animals can't. To my mind, they are wrong, because they equate thinking solely with conceptual thinking. Nevertheless, whether and to what extent animals think clearly depends on what thinking actually is.

If you do have a definition of thinking that is broad enough to allow that animals do think, then I would think that it has to be accepted that animals are not capable of thinking in all the ways humans can. They are not (with the possible exception of a few individual higher apes and, possibly, an African Grey Parrot called Alex) capable of the sort of thought that depends on having language. So much human thought depends on language, and/or is colored so strongly by linguistic thought, that it is nigh on impossible for us to have any conception of what animal thought is actually like. See Thomas Nagel's influential article 'What's it like to be a bat?'

Tim Sprod

Dogs certainly think. Well, at least big ones do. If you take thinking as the computational use of linguistically defined concepts, then an animal cannot think because he doesn't possess a language. But we can say that animals have practical reason, an example being the ape who picked up a stick to knock down something out of its reach. An objection may be that the animal didn't consciously think "Ah! This will do the trick", but then humans don't operate like either. The basic folk psychological example of practical reasoning is that we have a desire and a belief, come to form an intention and then act upon it. So if I desire a drink and believe there is something in the fridge, I form an intention to go and get something from the fridge. But we don't consciously think "Ah, I desire a drink and believe there is something in the fridge". It is more plausible to suggest that in the mind's eye we visualise that carton of orange juice. There is no reason why an animal can't do this, and there seems no other explanation for what would cause a dog to rise up and go outside to dig for a bone he buried weeks ago. Of course, abstract thinking is different, but we don't believe that animals have the capacity for abstract thinking. Their thoughts are environmentally and socially related.

It is held that animals don't decide or form intentions, but simply respond to environmental stimulations and act on instinct. On this view, the dog instinctively gets up with a desire for a bone and is environmentally stimulated by a bone buried a foot beneath the earth 100 yards away. To support this stance, it has to be held that the dog can smell the bone. This seems unlikely and, although it could be true, it is not the case. Our gardener once dug up and threw away our dog's bone, but the dog still goes to search the spot from time to time because he remembers, indeed he knows, that he buried a bone in this particular place. Not being an abstract thinker the dog can't entertain states of affairs he hasn't encountered such the possibility of someone taking the bone away.

This is to deny that language is needed for thinking and knowledge, which is a difficult position to defend, partly because concepts are now thought to fall within a conceptual scheme of beliefs, so that to possess the concept of "red" is to possess the concept of "colour", of objects and externality etc, the complexity of which seems to require language because of the involvement of definitional relations. Secondly, a thought is held to be propositional, and it is from the proposition that we make inferences and so the proposition needs the same logical structure as that of sentence and the user of the proposition must be able to make inferences. You probably know all this and that these are reasons why we do not ascribe thought to animals.

Language is held to be rule-governed and it is supposed that the use of concepts is also rule governed so you can't think, or use concepts, without a language. Philosophy of language, heavily influenced by logical considerations, has a strong hold in recent philosophy but if we look at times past, those of the British Empiricists, for instance, a concept was an idea and not tied to language and so it is necessary to return to this way of thinking if we are to claim that animals can think. Language may be necessary for abstract thinking, for the freedom of thought, but not for thought directed at states of affairs which are present or absent states of affairs which can be remembered.

The ideational description of thought doesn't just support the position that animals think, but seems sufficient for the very basic practical reasoning of humans. The Wittgensteinian point that you cannot follow a language alone doesn't apply to ideational concepts because these are not governed by rules but by memory and association. There is room for error and false belief. When my dog sees a person with a stick, he thinks it is someone well known to him, but as he gets nearer to sniff them, he finds he is wrong. This is a first order form of thought. The dog is not aware that he is wrong, but he changes his beliefs in accordance with the facts. Those who support thought as language would question what sort of inferential relations would take place between pictures in the mind. Although I can't answer this, such relations might take place in fact. I came across something written by an autistic woman who claims she has no language and thinks pictorially. Though how she could have written this or communicated what she wanted to say to the person who did write it, again I don't know.

Rachel Browne

Let us begin with one of the earliest views on this issue. Descartes believed that animals are machines and since, for Descartes, machines are not conscious, animals cannot think. Perhaps, we would now regard this to be an extreme viewpoint and generally ignore it. But consider Leibniz and his theory of Monads. He wouldn't say, like Descartes did, that animals are not conscious beings. For Leibniz, everything is spiritual or mental. So, everything must have some sort of consciousness or thought. Yet, he arranges monads into a hierarchical structure with man's soul at the highest level (of course, after God), followed by the lower forms of life and down to stones, wooden things and the like. So, even though Leibniz is willing to grant animals some sort of consciousness, he doesn't allow them the capacity for thought quite in the same sense as humans. Leibniz is not alone in thinking like this. The so-called modern (or rather, post-modern) society holds on to the same kind of belief — the belief that animals do not have thought or do not have thought as developed as that of humans.

But that is the darker side of the picture. There is a brighter side for animal lovers like me (and perhaps you?). Take, for example, the controversial claims of Peter Singer. Even though we may not wish to agree with his assumptions or even with some of his conclusions, I personally like his idea that even animals other than humans (like chimps, dolphins, cats and dogs) might be given the status of a person — a thinking, self-conscious being. Of course, we must first decide what a person is. As you have correctly emphasised, we need to know what thinking is. Do we know what it is? Well, I would hesitate to say yes. The study of thought and consciousness is an inter-disciplinary one. Scientists, philosophers, sociologists and others are putting their heads together to try and understand the greatest mystery of all times — conscious thinking. At the personal level, we all understand what it is to think. But at the theoretical level, it is extremely difficult to characterise this peculiar capacity. And until and unless we know what thinking is like, how can we jump into any conclusions about thinking animals?

However, I wouldn't hesitate to put my gut feeling before you — I believe like you, that animals can and do think. Understanding animals depends on how we connect with them, how caring our attitude is, whether we are willing to pay attention to the tiniest signals they send us through their own peculiar expressions. Being with animals has taught me to appreciate this truth. Other types of proof may be at hand soon. After all, if philosophers are willing to even consider the idea of thinking machines (meaning, specialised computers), how long can they disregard the existence of thinking animals? In the end, it's all a power-game. Humans beings are more powerful, so they twist and turn stories in such a way that they appear in the lead roles. Animals are always left with the side roles. What do you say?

Maushumi Guha

Heather asked:

Can you please explain Copleston's contingency argument and moral argument for the existence of God. I also need to know Russell's views on the subject.

and Danny asked:

I was just wondering, who won the Russell—Copleston debate?

Copleston describes a 'contingent' being as, "a being which has not in itself the complete reason for its existence." e.g. The existence of any human being cannot be explained without reference to their parents, and, of course, food and air. A 'necessary being,' on the other hand, means "a being that must and cannot not — exist." The validity of his argument rests on the truth or falsity of these two premises.

We know then that there are at least some beings in the world which do not contain in themselves the reason for their existence. Copleston goes on to describe the world as "simply the real or imagined totality or aggregate of individual objects, none of which contain in themselves alone the reason for their existence." He claims that this collection of objects constitutes the world and that it is a fallacy to think of the collection of objects and ' the world' as two separate entities, just as the human race is not something separate from its members. He concludes that as no known object contains within itself the reason for its own existence, the totality of objects must have a reason external to itself. That reason must be an existent being. This being is either itself the reason for its own existence or it is not. If it is not then we go into an infinite regress, i.e. a series of beings each dependent for its existence on a previous being — a series that goes on for ever. In order to avoid this, Copleston claims, we must conceive of a being which contains within itself the reason for its own existence, that is to say, "which cannot not — exist."

Copleston made use of Leibnitz's argument from contingent to necessary being, based on the argument for sufficient reason, simply because it seemed to him a brief and clear formulation of what is the fundamental metaphysical argument for God's existence. Take the proposition, "If there is a contingent being then there is a necessary being." He considered that the proposition hypothetically expressed is a necessary proposition. But claimed that the proposition is a necessary proposition only on the supposition that there is a contingent being. If there is a contingent being it follows of necessity that there is a necessary being. The necessary being is God.

Copleston goes on to claim that cause is a kind of sufficient reason: only contingent beings can have cause, God is his own sufficient reason; and he is not cause of himself. By sufficient reason in the full sense, Copleston proposes an explanation adequate for the existence of some particular being. He concludes that an adequate explanation is a total explanation to which nothing further can be added.

He goes on to say, "what we call the world is intrinsically unintelligible, apart from the existence of God." "Why shouldn't one raise the question of the cause of the existence of all particular objects?" "Why is there something rather than nothing?" Seeking the support of scientific investigation, Copleston asserts that experiments are conducted on the assumption of intelligibility and order in nature. The physicist presupposes that there is some sense in investigating nature and looking for the causes of events. The metaphysician is as justified as the physicist when he seeks reasons and causes of phenomena. It all seems to assume an ordered and intelligible universe.

In the 'moral argument,' Copleston expresses the belief that all goodness reflects God in some way and proceeds from Him, so that, in a sense, the man who loves what is truly good, loves God, even if he does not refer to God. He understands that the question of God's existence could be approached by way of consideration of moral obligation. He makes the assertion that, " The vast majority of the human race will make, and always have made, some distinction between right and wrong." The vast majority seems to have some concept, some consciousness of an obligation in the moral sphere. Copleston held the opinion that "the perception of values and the consciousness of moral law and obligation are best explained through the hypothesis of a transcendent ground of value and of an author of the moral law." He understands that if there is a moral order bearing upon the human conscience, it would be unintelligible apart from the existence of God.

The possibility of criticising accepted moral codes in society presupposes that there is an objective standard, "that there is an ideal moral order, which imposes itself." Copleston believes that the recognition of this ideal moral order is part of the recognition of contingency. "It implies the existence of a real foundation of God."

He presses the point that moral values are intrinsic, he thought it impossible to pass on true morality from one person to another, e,g. parents to children, as there are no words to convey intrinsic moral feelings. He states that a person has a consciousness of obligation and of moral values. He concludes that "it is only the existence of God that will make sense of man's moral experience and of religious experience."

Russell's views are in direct opposition to Copleston's. He does not accept the connotations associated with the word 'contingent.' He also does not accept the notion of a 'necessary being.' He claims that the word 'necessary' is a useless word, except as applied to analytical propositions. He questions the meaning of 'existence,' He claims that a subject named can never be significantly said to exist, but only a subject described. He considers the word 'universe' is a handy word in some connections, but does not think it stands for anything that has a meaning.

Russell also considers that there is no reason to claim that there is an overall cause for all things. "The whole concept of cause is one we derive from our observation of particular things." He considers that the universe, whatever it is, is just there and that's all; according to him there are no grounds whatsoever for believing the world has a cause.

His consideration of morals is also out of line with that of Copleston. He believes that account must be taken of the probable effects of any actions in considering what is right. There is no way in which he could attribute Divine origin to the matter of moral obligation, in view of the extensive variation of moral understanding throughout the world. Some moral acceptance he deemed as abominable, e.g. the Nazi treatment of the Jewish people, which they believed to be morally sustainable.

John Brandon

Cole asked:

This passing season has brought my lines of thought (which seem to flow towards an end of a ball of yarn which never reveals itself to light) to an almost unbearable predicament. I have confronted, it appears, that stark contradiction at the core of all ideas (the dichotomy, hypocrisy of thought at it's bone) and this encounter has rendered me unable to define, describe, justify anything (whether it be an event, an impression, or a comparison of labels). What do you make of this situation? Is it a path towards a greater understanding, or, is it, on the contrary, a waterwell I have found that I have begun to sink in?

My particular concern is this difficulty I have with the comparison of labels (or, any fixed ideas). The contradiction in any comparison I attempt to make seems to spoil my mind (whichever decision I choose!) Within virtually anything — this question not withstanding — I am stricken with this dichotomy of doubt and indefinability.

This question might be clarified: How might I find the tools to communicate a contrast of any two ideas in the most understandable perspective? I do realize, that this core of misunderstanding that contains me might very well live in my veins until my death ...... but for the purpose of social relations, where can thought be best expressed and sacrificed in speech for an optimal conveyance of meaning to another person? (without having to ramble such as THIS??)

Well, you know, I don't think there's any way out of it, when you come right down to it. You can look at Socrates and Plato on the idea of dialog for a dynamic kind of working out of this sort of dualism. You can look at Hegel's idea of the dynamic of thesis, counterthesis, and synthesis... not a bad verbal description of mental (particularly cognitive, in Hegel's case) feedback effects, but I don't much like the rest of Hegel, myself.

But your dilemma is really more profound than that, and the only people who even begin to address it are existentialists and phenomenologists... inasmuch as they do. The whole convoluted metaphorical morass of postmodernism celebrates your dilemma... just take a look at Derrida, for example. I actually have a sneaking liking for his idea of "difference"... the idea that there are cracks, so to speak, in between meanings, however precise we make them, which we can't help but fall into. Neato... but where does it get you, finally, except to emphasize the realization of the ultimate imprecision of language of any sort? Then what?

I mean... it's true, to an extent. You, and the rest of us, are stuck. That's not to say we can't communicate, mind you... but precision? Forget it. But what do you want, telepathy? We do the best we can with what we've got. We have the same problem externally that we do internally... how do we know the world? Well, we fumble, right? And gradually work towards something. And that's it... the final, the ultimate... is just our fumbling around. But without infinite knowledge, without telepathy, that is it, for anyone or anything. There will always be veils, internally and externally, because the separation that allows thought, modeling of the world and ourselves, also prevents contact, internal as well as external. But if we did not do that modeling, we would be rocks: the unseeing, unfeeling, unthinking part of the noumenon. I'd rather be a somewhat (but not always) unhappy, fumbling, moderately (but not always) dissatisfied consciousness — dasein, if you will — than a rock. But there are those who disagree, and they're hot after samadhi, satori, or whatever. That's pretty much the choice, as I see it. Relax, keep fumbling, and don't think you're alone in that, because you aren't. There's a lot of good art done to work around that sort of thing, and although it never succeeds in breaking the barrier — and that's a good thing, if you think of this in terms of finding out — it does succeed in presenting it in an interesting variety of perspectives.

Steven Ravett Brown

Kris asked:

I don't understand determinism. I know that it is basically that we are all predetermined but I don't understand the rest.

Determinism is the doctrine that we could not have chosen to do other that what we did. As Daniel Dennett has pointed out, to understand this, we have to understand what it means to say that 'we could have done otherwise'. In his view (a view often called soft determinism), this phrase must mean 'we would have done otherwise if we had wanted to' — but this also implies that we would have done exactly the same if we had had just the same wants. His book 'Elbow Room' deals with this question, and is quite easy to read (as is most of his stuff).

Jordan asked:

How does Sartre justify his view on freedom as the only objective value? (He provides some refutations of specific objective values in Existentialism as a Humanism, but I'm looking for an argument...)

Out of all philosophers I find Sartre to be the hardest to read, which translates into "I find Sartre to be the easiest to misunderstand".

Saying that I don't think Sartre was stupid, so he was unlikely to have made the mistake of saying that there are no objective values except mine. So I don't think we should read him as saying that freedom is the only objective value.

Nor are we to read him as saying that it is only freedom that is itself intrinsically valuable and that's why we place it at the centre of our philosophy.

Rather freedom for Sartre is inescapable and unavoidable, "We are condemned to be free". We just are free ! We can choose to say that freedom is good or bad, something to be valued or not, but this comes later, after the fact that we recognise to be a person is to be free, there is no getting away from it.

Everything we do is a result of our freedom, our choosing . We should therefore understand freedom not as the ultimate value , but as that which makes values possible. It is the condition (rather than the 'best of' values.

Max asked:

Hey, ok I'm not a college student or even in a philosophy class, the subject intrigues me. Here is my question:

I've been thinking about Schopenhauer's notion of the will and how all of history and all human and natural action can be determined by this will. This seems like a natural will to survive which animals and plants obviously contain. Plants grow through the will and animals eat and reproduce because of it. OK.

But I cannot figure where humans fit into the will. The will to truth and beauty and knowledge are not contained in a will to survival such as plants and animals contain, so this universal will that drives everything is different in humans than anything less, but I don't understand how it could be different for one species of living things and not another. Why is our will different and more specialized than any other will, and is this theory viable?

I'm not going to answer your question in a way you'd like, but it's the best way I can think of to address your concerns. You start by saying that you're not in college or in a philosophy class, and then talk about Schopenhauer. Ok. You're smart, you've done a lot of reading on your own... that's good. Excellent. The pitfall that you get into with that kind of thing, unfortunately, is that it is very difficult to get a good balance of ideas. One tends, in isolation, to stick to one subject or person, and to try to work everything out in those limited terms. The field of philosophy, however, is extremely old and extremely varied. Not only that, but if you think in terms of population increase, you can see that the exponential increase in population has resulted, in the 20th century, in many more intelligent and educated people than lived in Schopenhauer's time or earlier. It's just a simple matter of number. So what I am getting at should be clear, if unpleasant, by now. You are using the term "will" in a very restricted sense, and asking a very general question employing that sense of the term. It is not applicable. You can use "will" in Schopenhauer's sense to think about Schopenhauer's position on will, even to compare his to others' use of the term. But you cannot use the term as you do in your question. For example, when you say, "This seems like a natural will to survive which animals and plants obviously contain", you are using "will" from one very restricted context, that of Schopenhauer's writings, and generalizing to all conceptual contexts. That is, perhaps it is true that for Schopenhauer — given his particular conception of will — it is "obvious" that animals and plants "contain" will. But from no (or very few) other context(s) is this obvious or even true — Aristotle has a teleology vaguely similar to this, but I don't know of any modern (main-stream philosophical) writers who talk this way (Teilhard de Chardin, I think, did... but he was a Catholic theologian, and Aquinas held Aristotle as the supreme philosopher).

You need to broaden and systematize your knowledge. 1) go back to school; alternatively, 2) contact a philosopher you admire at a good school and ask for a reading list leading to, then from Schopenhauer, if you are truly interested in him particularly, including critical readings (but Schopenhauer is not read much today, actually); or, 3) there used to be a book called "College on Your Own" which gave such lists; I'm not sure it's still in print, but it was good.

I told you that you wouldn't like my answer.

Steven Ravett Brown

Barry asked:

If wisdom is a combination of knowledge and good judgement, why is it so hard to acquire and why can't it be taught?

I think that it is hard to acquire because it needs a lot of knowledge, particularly knowledge of how context makes a difference, and because good judgement is honed in the making of many judgements (again, in many different but similar contexts). Thus, I believe that it can be taught — or, at least, the bases needed for knowledge and for judgement can be taught. Two of the things that get taught, of course, are how to gain further knowledge in the absence of a teacher, and how to turn judgement itself on our judgements, so that we become better at making judgements.

My account implies a version of teaching that is not merely the passing on of facts, and of judgement that is not purely rationalistic, or decontextualized. I have written a book about how moral wisdom can be taught.

Tim Sprod

I suppose that wisdom is achieved by being in a certain way, such as possessing an open mind in an attempt to understand rather than being blinkered by opinion and blinded by presuppositions. Experience is also involved, which is why it can't be taught and it is not easily acquired. Questioning is probably the route to wisdom rather than being taught, but when does questioning end and when is wisdom achieved?

Rachel Browne

Joshua asked:

Most people think that some sexual taboos (i.e. necrophilia, bestiality, pedophilia, incest) are not morally permissible. However, it seems to me that under certain circumstances all of the above examples are permissible. Could you please elaborate on this?

Your question is about the nature of morality. Are there rules of morality that strict and exceptionless (Kant holds something like this view), or are moral rules more like rules of thumb, to be applied according to the context and circumstances (Aristotle holds something like this view).

Tim Sprod

Sexual taboos might exist because we find certain practices distasteful, especially necrophilia, but distaste is not regarded a well-substantiated moral ground. The legal position is based on the moral principle that sexual practices are impermissible where there is no consent. Paedophilia remains morally unacceptable because we do not suppose that children are able to give their full assent or we don't suppose they really know what they are doing: Are we saying they don't know they're involved in what we take as a perversion, or are we saying that they don't know that they should not indulge a paedophile even if they enjoy it too? The notion of perversion is socially determined, but we could claim a child should not indulge a paedophile because the child doesn't know the consequences of gratifying a person whose habits can cause great harm to himself and others. If we mean the latter and suppose that the child can't think in these terms, we can say his consent is not fully informed.

In the case of animals and dead bodies consent isn't really possible. That the animal or dead body don't object isn't to be regarded as positive concurrence with the activity.

I can't think of any circumstances which would justify these practices since being overcome by intensity of desire is not a justification. Justification should appeal to principles.

Rachel Browne

The general question here is: what is the basis of morality. The debate on how, specifically, to answer that question has been going on for centuries. But generally, there is agreement on this issue. First, in general (and this is just the first of many controversial claims I will make in this essay) no one who has read and thought broadly on this subject maintains that morality is the following of specific commands, that is, that there is an authority who can dictate specifics of morality to us. That eliminates fundamentalist religions and similar creeds, who take one or another bible and/or set of commandments, because their god, prophet, or "master" of one sort or another has spoken to them, as literal guidelines for behavior and thinking.

What that leaves, then, are general guidelines. When these are boiled down, they amount to either a kind of hedonism, i.e., do what makes you (and others) happy, or a kind of life-enhancement, i.e., do what improves your (and others) lot, quality of life, and so forth. Of course, depending on interpretation, those two can come very close. What makes people unhappy with the former is that a) defining "happiness" is not easy, b) happiness, however defined, seems a rather short-term and narrow goal. What makes people unhappy with the latter is that "quality of life" is even more vague.

Now, in my opinion, in ascertaining the basis for ethics, one must take what is termed a "naturalistic" or "naturalized" stance. That is, one cannot use only pure reason to figure it out; one must take the nature of human beings, as determined empirically — and that's why it's termed "naturalized" — into account. That means we have to pay attention to the studies showing a) territoriality, b) dominance/submission behavior and hierarchies c) types of emotions involved in relationships (as well as rationality), d) various aspects of aggression.

I will take the position that what is moral is what is life-enhancing, and not go into more specifics. I think that by reversing one's perspective on this, one can arrive at reasonable, rough, answers to the more obvious questions. We ask, then: what is not life-enhancing? Generally, causes which produce negative effects on someone's actual or potential life-enhancement. Thus, whatever prevents an individual from living fully and from realizing their potential to do so, speaking very roughly. What would do that? Unsolicited violence and humiliation — in general, unsolicited dominance behaviors, causing submissive behaviors, and behaviors and feelings imposed on someone — would seem to be implicated there, as a start (I'm starting with the obvious; solicited violence is not a good place to start this analysis; and of course this is an incomplete, not a comprehensive list). This imposition, at the very least, prevents the victim from choosing behaviors which they regard as the best (the most life-enhancing, however they formulate that for themselves) in the circumstances. Given that, what do we say about sex? Sex which is motivated by and/or results in control, dominance, humiliation, and/or other suffering, with someone who has no or little choice in the matter is, I will claim, by all reasonable standards, immoral. That would include those weaker, physically and/or emotionally, than another person. Where would we find that? The clearest categories of sex which would be immoral would be rape (and I'm using that term broadly to include emotional as well as physical force, even though that fades into a gray area) and sex with children. Why the latter? Because in a sexual relationship with a child, dominance is imposed, therefore choice is eliminated, and the relationship is violent (see below also). What about S&M? By the reasoning above, another gray area. Are the partners willing? Is the dominance/submission under control and voluntary? With all else equal (not easy to determine, mind you), I am still somewhat uncomfortable with the reinforcing of behaviors which usually imply lack of choice, but I can accept that in some cases S&M does not involve this, and so can be moral (insofar as our rough analysis allows).

What about your cases ("necrophilia, bestiality, pedophilia, incest")? Zowie. Pedophilia: definitely, without doubt, immoral. Children are not competent to decide whether they are willing or not, and are naturally inclined (and I actually believe this is instinctive) to be submissive to adults (aside from simply being physically weaker, smaller, and so easily intimidated). Aside from that, even if one thinks that everything is happy and fun, there is no way to know, since the child is not competent to evaluate and decide. Sex between adult and child is forced, one way or another, and the adult is on a power trip. Period. I just don't see any situation in which this could be gotten around. Now sex between children is a different matter, and much harder, in my opinion, to decide as far as morality goes. Is childhood "experimentation" immoral? Probably not, but one would have to look case-by-case to determine. And of course childhood pregnancy is almost certainly bad, for a variety of reasons, and how can one have birth control for children without negative hormonal effects or the necessity for vigilance probably beyond a child's capacity? Tie your little girl's tubes? Offhand I'd say that the lack of choice, i.e., the violence, are inevitable and immoral. But, repressing my feelings of repugnance, suppose that one could, with no side effects and with guaranteed reversibility (and of course no suffering), create infertility in a child until they themselves chose (as adults) to become fertile. Would that enforced infertility be immoral? My inclination would be to say no, but with reservations. I'd have to think about it more. Would sex between children, in that case, be immoral (if it was without dominance/submission)? We've reached the end of what I've thought about, with that question. I don't know what to say about that one.

Necrophilia: Yuk. I don't see, however, that it is highly immoral, just insane (but see below). If someone is so crippled emotionally that they can only have a relationship with a corpse, then it seems to me that they're either saying something about their own self-worth, or they're screwed up in some other major way. In addition, it's the ultimate power trip, isn't it? A corpse can't resist. But you can't prevent the life-enhancement of a corpse, just of the person committing the act. An interesting question, as to whether doing that hurts someone emotionally in some way, but my inclination is to say that they have to be pretty badly damaged to initiate it in the first place. What kind of person needs the feeling of power, sex, and a "relationship" that badly? But we should ask: is there a difference between necrophilia and sex with a life-sized plastic doll? Yes. We do not see (comprehend) a corpse as we see a doll. Not that I'm recommending the latter, mind you, just that I'm saying it's probably the better of the two alternatives, if you've got to choose. When you think about it that way, the symbolic intimacy with death does make necrophilia seem possibly immoral, because of the further implications of that "intimacy" for the behavior (and thoughts/feelings) of that person toward themselves and others.

Bestiality: similar in some ways to necrophilia, in my opinion. A power trip over an animal who can't possibly resist, only perhaps not immoral (just very borderline in terms of sanity) because the animal cannot (probably) comprehend any implications beyond the moment (and, we assume, it isn't suffering). At least there might be some actual emotional involvement, say, if someone very isolated and neurotic had sex with their pet dog, and there's no (I wouldn't think) symbolic involvement with death. So is it immoral, or just very screwed up? My inclination is to say the latter, but again, it's hard to say what effects that behavior could have on the person initiating it. Forced (either way) bestiality: immoral, covered above.

Incest: the most borderline of your list, as far as morality goes, in my opinion. Genetically, a bad deal: the reinforcement of (usually) masked recessives, and the problems that European royalty and other inbred groups have had with this, in general, demonstrate this. But today we have birth control. Given that, why not? As long as we're not talking about pedophilia again (fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, or comparable), and the people don't have children (or have themselves carefully genetically screened beforehand), I can't see any immorality here.

Steven Ravett Brown

If we take the view that acts of sex are physical acts like any other physical act then there is no intrinsic feature of sex that makes it a moral issue. This means there is no sexual perversity.

There may be external factors however that make sexual acts wrong, but these will be derived from general moral rules which. govern other aspects of our lives.

So while eating for example is not a moral issue, if we steal a the last piece of bread from a mother and child just because we fancy a snack we have done something wrong.

Similarly while sex is not a moral issue it does place us in situations where moral rules apply. So rape, paedophilia, necrophilia will be wrong, not because they are sexual but because they are violations of moral rules prohibiting against harming others. Not just physical harming, the necrophiliac does not physically harm anyone (there is no one to harm in a corpse) but I suspect that few people would be happy to know that their granny's corpse had been interfered with.

Bestiality is a tough one, it is probably a bit strong to say that it is wrong unless we argue for full blown animal rights (no pun intended).

Brian Tee

Maria asked:

This is a research I'm doing for a project:

How is philosophy connected to artificial intelligence? There are many connections I know. But apart from the religious connection that we are partly playing god when trying to create a human mind, I don't quite understand the philosophical issue on cognition and intelligence.

One very interesting story about philosophy and AI is this. In the 1970s, many AI researchers were making grand claims about how AI would within a few years lead to computers that were smarter than humans, and which would be able to do virtually anything a human could do — especially in things like understanding natural language, recognizing people, diagnosing diseases and so on.

Bert Dreyfus, an American philosopher, wrote a book at the time that drew on Heidegger's account of what it is to live in the world to claim that computers which followed the methods of AI at the time (and which are still being used a good deal) would never be able to become as intelligent as human beings. The book was called What computers can't do. He was derided for this view — a mere philosopher trying to tell the experts their own job. He turns out to be right, and had the satisfaction of publishing an updated version of the book called What computers still can't do about 20 years later. The moral of the story is that, if we want to make artificial intelligence, we had better sort out what natural intelligence is like first, and that is at least in part a philosophical task.

Tim Sprod

Afsoon asked:

I am an English Literature student in Iran. I am doing a research on Beckett's novels. In doing the research I have ended up somewhere in the philosophic ideas. My question concerns the nature of relativism in Pre-Socratic times and in Zen Buddhism:

In Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance Phaedrus came out with the conclusion that the Sophists believed in relativism of truth, and Socrates, Plato and Aristotle believed in absolutism and tried to systematize the Truth. Therefore they came out with ideas such as subject-object. Yet they were like Sophists in using rhetoric, but according to 'conventional knowledge' (according to the definition given by Alan Watts).

On the other hand we know that relativism in the Pre-Socratic era had the worst consequences — there are some who call it a crisis. They had some saying like, 'The wise man is the perfectly unjust man'. Now how is it that the Sophists, went astray (if it is going astray and, if not, why?) yet Zen has been known as the way of liberation for a long time? What is the difference between them? Do they both believe in Dharma and relativism in the same way, and if they do why did such things happen in Sophism?

You know, I've seen your question, off and on, for a while, and it never made any sense to me. But I think I may understand what's going on. It seems to me that you're assuming that because Pirsig used "Zen" in his title, that he is implying that there is a direct relationship to the philosophies he's talking about and Zen. But that isn't true. There is, I believe, an indirect relationship, which I'll briefly discuss below, but there are no such direct interrelations as you speak of.

Now, however, and otherwise, you could say that what the title is referring to is a kind of non-rational, wholistic approach to life and tasks (like motorcycle repair) that are usually considered and described in rational, reductionistic terms; in terms of explicit directions and lists. What Pirsig is saying is that Socrates, Plato, and that gang started the trend towards that kind of rationality, and the Sophists were trying to counter that trend (or actually, Plato was trying to counter the holism of the Sophists). Pirsig wanted to bring aesthetics, emotion, a wholistic approach into a rationality that he saw as the usual stereotype of that: cold, bloodless, list-making and rule-following. So forget the Dharma stuff, except very indirectly... the relation to Zen is not that specific.

So the Sophists went astray in the same way that all the wholistic approaches have gone astray: they have not found a way to use the techniques of rational thought, which work very effectively in chopping up the world, analyzing the little bits, and reassembling them (with, usually, some pieces missing), and still remaining holistically oriented. It's those missing pieces that the holists object to, and sure, they've got a point. But they haven't come up with a viable alternative, which allows, say, medicine to develop vaccines without using rational thought. I like vaccines, myself... and my car, and warm synthetic clothes. All products of cold, analytic rationality, I'm afraid.

Of course I could now go into my anti-anti-science rant, but I won't. I'll just say that given that we don't want to live like primitive hunter-gatherers (which I, for one, don't — not to mention that the world doesn't have the resources to support everyone living that way, without major population reduction), we're going to use the methods and products of rationality... and the holists have yet to figure out how to do both that and holism.

Steven Ravett Brown

Ray asked:

I remember at one time knowing the source of the quote, "When pigs fly" and that it was not from Alice in Wonderland (or Through the Looking Glass). If anyone can help me I would appreciate it.

Peace and all good,

Father Ray Goodman (member, 'Phi Sigma Tau')

Well you sent me on a merry chase. Here it is:

Steven Ravett Brown

Nikki asked:

Mind boggling questions for me...

Here goes. "The public affects taste, theory, and artistic outlook in literature, music, and drama, even though courtly elites hang on somewhat desperately in each field. The same has never been true in art. The public...are merely tourists, autography seekers, gawkers, parade watchers, so far as the game of Success in Art is concerned" Wolfe (26-27).

My question is that I have to pick two aestheticians and argue why they think this idea is wrong or why it is right. Does the public really have a say in art? or are they simply bystanders?

I'm afraid that this is mind-boggling for me too. As far as I know, no-one argues specifically against the view put forward in the quote, probably because it is not clear what it means since it raises so many issues. I suppose by "art" Wolfe means pictorial art, but you can distinguish literature/music/drama which we take to be art in the sense that it has aesthetic value from that we take to be pure entertainment. Do look at my recent answer to Lima on Answers 13 on the difference between taste and aesthetic value. If the distinction made there is correct, the public don't have a say in determining which works have aesthetic value based on their taste: Taste is distinct from what people find valuable and to this extent the public are gawkers whatever the art-form. I don't see why pictorial art should differ. There is still valuable art and popular art.

Wolfe claims theory as well as taste determines the body of art which is literature, music and drama. Does literary theory have a say, or is it the critic, who combines a knowledge of theory with personal taste? This view is put forward by Hume in On Standards of Taste a paper to be found in Essays, Moral, Political and Literary, but Hume doesn't distinguish between art forms. The idea that it is the critic whose knowledge and taste defines what art is disputes Wolfe because the critic is distinct from the general public. He is the person the public look to as someone who knows.

It has been argued that valuable art should stand the test of time. For this approach to artistic value, see The Test of Time by Antony Savile. Savile argues that part of what makes a work valuable is that it possesses qualities which make it worthy of being appreciated over a period of time. This can be used against Wolfe, since it is not taste or theory, but quality which makes a work successful and this can again be held to apply to all art-forms.

Rachel Browne

Laura asked:

Has technology surpassed human intelligence?

Curtis asked:

How is your life shaped? Is it destiny, laid out for you? Does it come from within (what you make of it)? Or is it shaped by your surroundings?

You ask a very interesting question. The question is known in philosophy as the debate between free will and determinism. I will now attempt to answer your question by explaining these terms and looking at the ideas of some philosophers and psychologists who have voiced their views on this issue.

Free will

This is the belief that human beings are free to determine their actions. The future is not pre-determined. Human beings (well, at least some of them) have the capacity to consciously control their actions. As such, they are responsible for the choices they make and they perform. An extreme view would be one that stated that human beings have an absolute freedom to make choices and act on them. The French philosopher Jean Paul Sartre held a similar position to this. He maintained that humans are "condemned" to be free. In other words, humans have an absolute freedom to determine their actions (or at least their attitudes) regardless of the situation they find themselves in.

Other 20th Century existentialist thinkers have held similar attitudes (notably Victor Frankl — a survivor of the Nazi Holocaust). An example might illustrate these ideas more clearly. Even in the middle of immense suffering and cruelty, such as that experienced in a Nazi concentration camp, the individual is still free, if not to physically escape from their environment, but to at least change her attitude towards her predicament. She is still capable of making a choice.

It should be clear from this example why people who subscribe to this position often view freedom as a burden. If we are totally free in the way they suggest, then it follows that we are ultimately responsible for the situations we find ourselves in. To blame others for our situation is "bad faith" — it is a denial of our true, free, human nature.

Determinism

The view that opposes free will is known as determinism. In its extreme form it claims that free will is impossible. When we humans feel that we are acting freely, it is merely an illusion. Everything that has happened in the past, everything that is happening now, and everything that will happen in the future was/is always destined to happen in the way it did/will. You were always going to send your question to this website. I was always going to answer it in the way I am and, hopefully, you were always going to read and understand the answer.

The arguments for determinism are plentiful and I will concentrate on a few of the major ones here.

One very influential form of determinism, at least until the early 20th Century, finds its origins in the science of Isaac Newton and is known as causal or physical determinism. The argument is based on the view of the world presented by science. The scientific worldview is one based on causal relationships governed by universal (i.e. applicable to all things) laws. That is, science views the world in terms of cause, effect and laws.

For example, I drop my dinner plate on the kitchen floor. The force with which the plate hits the ground causes the plate to break into 3 pieces. In addition to causing the plate to break, the contact between the plate and the floor causes a vibration of air particles that causes a crashing sound to be registered on some form of detector. Because these causes are governed by universal laws (in this case, Newton's laws of motion and the law of conservation of energy), the consequences are predictable. If I knew the height from which the plate was dropped, the material from which the plate and floor were made, the precise angle of the plate as it was dropped etc, I should, in theory, be able to predict how many pieces the plate would break into and the precise character of the sound produced.

Using this view of causation, one version of causal determinism argues that if we knew every physical fact about one particular moment in time, we should be able to predict the future. We could calculate the effects of this moment on the next, and of that next moment on the one after and so on to infinity. Such a view was proposed by the French thinker Pierre Simon Laplace (1749-1827) in 1814. And because human beings are part of the physical world (we are made ultimately of particles which obey certain laws), then our actions are entirely determined in advance.

This view was challenged, though not entirely refuted, by the discoveries of quantum physics in the early 20th Century that suggested that events at the microscopic level are not governed by the same laws as those that apply to larger objects.

Psychology has also made its contribution to this debate. Sigmund Freud argued for a belief described now as psychic determinism. At the risk of oversimplification, he claimed that human actions were determined by an unconscious drive for sex and an unconscious drive for aggression, themselves determined, via evolutionary processes, by basic life and death instincts. Humans cannot freely control their actions as their drives influence and, in some cases, override their conscious wishes.

The famous psychologist, B F Skinner, writing in the 20th Century, subscribed to what is known as environmental determinism. All human actions are determined by the particular features of the environment in which the human operates. Again, at the risk of oversimplification, Skinner demonstrated through extensive research (mainly on non-human animals) that if the environment rewards an organism for performing a particular action, then that organism is more likely to perform that action again in the future — regardless of any conscious thought processes which the organism experiences.

Determinism raises many interesting issues. One that I find particularly intriguing is its impact on moral philosophy. If all a person's actions are determined in advance then that person is surely not responsible for any action she performs. Why punish a wrongdoer if she is not responsible? Or was it always pre-determined that she would be punished? And so on...

Simon Drew

Kathy asked:

In a philosophy class, the professor asked us to discuss whether the laws given to us by God (i.e. the ten commandments) are good because He said they were good (implying good is arbitrary based on God's choice), or did he give us these laws because they are good, implying that the idea of "good" is independent of God. The argument was that God could just as easily have told us to hate our neighbor, or to kill freely, and then these things would be good by definition (directed by God). My question is this: since God is by definition omnipotent and omniscient, could neither of these choices be correct, or both choices simultaneously? Perhaps in imperfect, human logic, doesn't omnipotence contradict omniscience? Can a paradox exist for God?

God him/herself is Paradox, and the paradox of God is that He/She understands him/her self to be that which he/she is and can be nothing more or nothing less since lessening diminishes and changes and God cannot change and the same with more. Thus, the paradox of God is that while He/She is creator and sustainer of everything that exists at every level physically, conceptually and ideally, he/she cannot be create that which is greater than He/She/ Anselm's famous 'Ontological Proof for the Existence of God' i.e 'God is that of which nothing greater can be said to be' relies on the assumption that Being is contingent upon God as the supreme being and that such being derives its existence from God (it is what Duns Scotus would later call the doctrine of Univocity of Being').

The paradox of God limited to his own greatness and God-ness is precisely that: since God cannot be anything less or greater than that which He/She is then he is limited to his/her own experience of his/her own being as being in itself. Thus the ultimate paradox of God is the limitlessness of his limitation since God is that of which nothing greater can be said to be, then He/She cannot be the cause of his/her own non-existence which that which greater than God existing would be since there would be something greater than that of which nothing greater can be said to be and thus He/She would cease to exist. If God ceased to exist then that which was greater than God would be the supreme being in the the universe, and thus would find itself in the same position.

Thus the paradox of God in Him/Herself is that his/her omnipotence, omniscience does not in fact exist as a contingency in God but rather God as God is omnipotent, God as God is omniscient, God as God in Being God is all these and none. The ultimate paradox is: God exists as God and cannot exist as anything other than that.

Fr Seamus Mulholland OFM

Pablo asked:

Why do some people believe in reincarnation? because if it exists what is the purpose of living, having experiences if you're going to forget them anyway?

Speaking as someone who doesn't believe in reincarnation, I think people believe in it for the same reason others believe in heaven and hell — to allow themselves to believe that somehow, someday, life will turn out to be fair. People want to believe that everyone will, one day, get the reward or punishment they deserve.

This world is unfair. Good people sometimes have miserable lives, and bad people sometimes escape punishment. Rather than accept this, people believe that reward / punishment will come in another life (or in the afterlife). And of course, this can never be disproved.

What I find interesting is that I still feel a responsibility to be a good person, even though I believe I will never be rewarded. I wonder about where this 'moral conscience' comes from. Is it simply that I was brought up by parents who expected me to be good, and that I absorbed their attitudes at such a young age that it has become part of my personality?

You can read more about reincarnation at:

Betsy asked:

Explain the terms Atman and brahman. Why do the Upanishads assert that, while the self is everywhere and within ourselves, it cannot be known as an object?

I believe that this question can be best answered from the Advaita Vedanta perspective of Shankaracharya. First, what is Advaita Vedanta? Indian systems of Philosophy are divided into two categories — the orthodox (astika) and the unorthodox (nastika). There are six systems under the first head (orthodox), namely, Nyaya, Vaisheshika, Vedanta, Mimamsa, Samkhya and Yoga. The Vedanta system can be further classified into two, of which Advaita Vedanta is one. The term 'Vedanta' [Veda (the scriptures) + anta (end) = Vedanta (the last part of the Vedas)] refers to the Upanishads (The Upanishads form the last part of the Vedas). The Vedanta, therefore, has the best of the Upanishads. The term 'Advaita' [a (negation) + dvaita (dual) = advaita (non-dual)] means 'singular' or 'unified' or 'non-dual'. So, Advaita Vedanta is a monistic system, which confers absolute unchallenged existence on the Brahman [The word 'Brahman' comes from the root 'briha' to which the suffix 'mana' has been added. 'Briha' means 'pervasive' and 'mana' means 'most'. So, 'Brahman' means 'that which is all-pervasive']. The Brahman is, therefore, the Ultimate Reality.

What about the world that we live in? What about the variety, the multiplicity that we perceive around us? As is expected, the Advaitins believe that the world is unreal [asat = a (negation) + sat (real)]. But to say that the world is unreal is not to say that it is non-existent. For whatever appears to us in our experience must have some kind of existence. The distinction between a non-existent entity (aleeka) and an unreal entity (asat) can be understood with the help of the following example. To talk about 'the horns of a rabbit' is to talk about a non-existent entity. The world and its objects are not non-existent in that sense. That's because the world and its objects appear to us in our experiences in some form of the other.

To explain this further, the Advaitins distinguish between three levels of existence. The Brahman obviously belongs to the highest of these levels and is called the 'Paramarthika sat'. The world belongs to the second of these three levels — to the phenomenal level — and is called the 'Vyavaharika sat'. The characteristic feature of things belonging to the phenomenal realm (viz., of things that exist in this world) is that they are obliterated with the dawn of the knowledge of the Ultimate Reality. This can be better understood with reference to things belonging to the lowest level of existence, namely, illusory things (called 'Pratibhasika sat'). A common example of illusion found in Indian systems of Philosophy is the rope-snake illusion. While walking down a half-lit corridor, you see a long, twisted something lying in front of you and for one dark moment you think it's a snake! When you flash your pocket light on it, you find it's only a rope. What's real here is the rope, not the snake, because the existence of the snake is obliterated as soon as the existence of the rope is known. Similarly, the existence of the world is obliterated with knowledge of the Highest Reality. That is why, some writers on Advaita Vedanta refer to the world as a 'cosmic illusion'.

What do Advaitins mean by 'knowledge of the Ultimate Reality or Brahman'? It is the knowledge that the individual self (atma) is the same as the Brahman. It is the knowledge of the identity between the atma and the Brahman. Life, i.e., the cycle of birth and death, is bondage. Liberation is to know that I am not the physical body or the senses or the mind; it is to know that I am the pure self, the conscious principle, the Brahman. It is to understand that my self, the atma, is one with the Absolute Self, the Brahman. This is the principle lesson of the Upanishads — Tat tvam asi, You are that — where, 'tvam' or 'you' refers to the individual self (atma) and 'tat' or 'that' refers to the Ultimate Reality (Brahman).

So what is the Brahman? The Brahman is pure existence (sat svaroopa), pure consciousness (chit svaroopa) and pure bliss (ananda svaroopa). There is no existence above that of the Brahman; there's nothing more conscious than the Brahman and nothing that gives more happiness than the Brahman. The Brahman is the epitome of existence, consciousness and bliss — these three are not properties of the Brahman. The Brahman is of the very nature of existence, consciousness and bliss. So is the individual self, the atma. But we do not realise this unity of the atma and the Brahman. When we do, we are released from the bondage of life and death.

It is because the self and the Brahman are essentially the same, the Advaitins say that the Ultimate Reality cannot be known objectively, as something that is external to us. In a monistic system, there is only one thing that exists and the only way that thing can be known is in itself, by itself. So, the only possible kind of knowledge in Advaita Vedanta is self-knowledge. This is the reason why there is so much emphasis on self-realisation in most systems of Indian Philosophy. Knowledge of the Ultimate Reality or Brahman is the knowledge by the self of its own nature. So "the Upanishads assert that, while the self is everywhere and within us, it cannot be known as an object."

Maushumi Guha

Maggie asked:

Is there anything wrong with parents deciding that their children have the same characteristics that they have judging by a utilitarian or deontology approach?

Do utilitarianism and deontology lead to different ethical conclusions about the issue?

What is the difference between utilitarianism and deontology?

I think it would be easier if I were to answer your questions in reverse order and begin with the difference between utilitarian and deontological ethical theories. What they share in common is that they both attempt to provide answers to moral dilemmas. Where they differ, however, is in the method used to answer these dilemmas. Utilitarianism is the name given to the ethical theory proposed by Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill in the 19th century. It proposes that an action can be judged to be morally correct (i.e. the right thing to do) if, and only if, that action produces more happiness or pleasure than any alternative course of action that may be performed. A "good" action is simply one that brings about the greatest total happiness. This is described as the Principle of Utility or the Greatest Happiness Principle. When faced with a moral dilemma the utilitarian a) examines all the possible options available to her, b) calculates the total happiness produced by each possibility, and c) acts in the way which produces the greatest total amount of happiness.

Because utilitarianism looks to the consequences of any action that is performed it is often referred to as a consequentialist theory. It might help if you took some time to think of how a utilitarian might answer the following moral dilemmas:

1. A judge deciding whether or not to sentence a convicted murderer to death
2. A student deciding whether or not to lie to her tutor and claim that her assignment was really eaten by a dog

Deontological ethics, on the other hand, approaches moral decisions from a very different perspective. Deontological ethics, sometimes called duty based ethics, state that humans have a duty (or duties) to act in certain ways,regardless of the amount of happiness produced or indeed any other consequences. For example, it may be argued that humans have a duty to always tell the truth. In this situation, lying would always be an unacceptable course of action, even if it made billions of people happy.The duty overrides any possible consequences. The main problem faced by proponents of deontological ethics is identifying which duties are those we should follow, and then attempting to justify them. Some Christians, for example, may choose to look to the Bible and use the Ten Commandments. Other thinkers may attempt to prove that certain duties exist by using their reason alone, as did the famous philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724-1804).

First two questions now!

It is entirely possible that deontological and utilitarian thinkers may agree on what is the right way to act regarding the issue you describe — parents passing on their characteristics to their children. But it is equally possible that they will disagree.

The utilitarian thinker would simply have to follow the procedure outlined above and calculate the amount of happiness produced by such an act. For example, would the parents' happiness increase? Would the children be happier inheriting their parents' characteristics than they would have been without them? Would society as a whole feel happier if parents were allowed to "interfere" with the natural process of reproduction? Each case would have to be viewed individually and if, in some situations, it could be safely predicted that parents passing on their characteristics to their children would increase the total amount of happiness, then it would be the moral thing to do.

The deontological thinker would first have to decide which duties were regarded as correct and make their decision on the basis of this. For example, the deontological thinker may be able to claim that humans have a duty not to interfere with natural processes (because, perhaps, its against the will of God) and conclude that it would be immoral for parents to pass their characteristics on to their children. It should be clear now that if the deontological thinker decided to claim that a different duty was important, a different conclusion may be reached. The important point to remember is that deontological thinkers will not look to the consequences of an action in order to determine its worthiness.

Simon Drew

Gonzalo asked:

When is an idea dangerous? It seems to me that Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism all seem to be oriented to the improvement of human kind. Something happens though when these ideas are turned into doctrines or dogmas. How can we as human beings protect ourselves from doctrines? What is the ground we should stand on, in order to get the best out of an religious or spiritual idea? Why and how do "healthy" ideas become destructive to human beings (not only religious ones, but also philosophical ones as well). When does doubt become an obstacle in the search for truth? I guess there is no limit in what and how one can question things, but are we not falling into a trap the same way Zeno did with his mathematical paradoxes? One can question until the end of time, and not find or discover anything. I hope you find this question more provocative, worthy or interesting than the previous ones. Good luck.

"Nothing is more dangerous than an idea. When it is the only one you have."
— Emile Chartier

The question is an interesting one, and I can see that you already appreciate its complexity from the length of your question.

Essentially you have already answered the question, by your concern about both the problem of holding one idea too strongly (dogmas and doctrines), and about holding no ideas (doubt and questioning). Exactly — there are problems with both these extremes, and my inclination is to try to find a balance between them, some kind of middle ground. We need a balance between universal doubt and blind faith.

The quote above suggests that 'having only one idea' is dangerous. Anyone who thinks they have got "The Truth" is going to be extremely resistant to revising or questioning their ideas. And they may become very dangerous indeed if they are prepared to use force (and not just physical violence; brainwashing might be considered a form of 'intellectual force') to get other people to accept their ideas, or to punish anyone who doesn't accept their ideas.

But questioning and doubt can equally become self-destructive when only proof that an idea is necessarily true — that is, true in the way that "4+3=7" or "a banana is a banana" are true — will persuade you to accept it. In philosophy, the most extreme forms of doubt are solipsism (the view that everything you see is just the product of your own mind), and radical scepticism (which goes further and claims that the only thing you can know for sure is the present contents of your own mind). There are various philosophical arguments against these views, but none of them are entirely satisfactory, and the fact is that if you really believed in either of them you would be considered insane. Philosophers can also fall into a different kind of doubt; they spend so much time learning about other people's different points of view, and their respective merits and demerits, that they can become unable to decide which point of view they agree with! I found this a problem when I was in my first year of studying philosophy at University, when I was reading so many commentators's criticisms of classic texts, that I began to feel I had no ideas of my own! What I did was to concentrate on reading the texts themselves, and avoid the works of academic commentators as far as possible — this helped.

You already know how to protect yourself from doctrines! By doing philosophy, of course — you are already doing it by asking your question in the first place! If you are prepared to apply questioning, discussion and reflection — which I take to be basic methods of philosophizing — to any idea, then you are unlikely to be in danger of accepting any one idea as "The Truth". Of course, you may conclude that some ideas are more or less right or true than others, but without ever believing that any one of them on its own holds the complete truth — or even that humans will ever grasp the complete truth. The truth about the world may be too complex to be captured in any one idea — or too wide-ranging to be fully grasped by human understanding, perception or theories.

There's one more important way you can protect yourself from doctrines. In the midst of all this serious discussion — don't forget your sense of humour!

Katharine Hunt

Reuben asked:

As far as I can see, an event in space/ time does not rely upon the existence of an observer in order to occur. Why can't the age-old "tree falling in the woods" question be answered with a simple Yes?

Well, there's the Cartesian doubt... you can, after all, doubt pretty much anything you want, and the only certainty, according to Descartes, at any rate, are your own experiences (and not whether they relate to "reality"). Of course, Dennett has something to say about that in "Quining Qualia", where he casts doubt on pretty much anything which is purely mental — any "feels" — except perhaps for immediate experience... and how, after all, do you know what that is except through the memory of the last instant? But then, Dennett has his own program. Even in Zen Buddhism (according to one school, at any rate) there is doubt cast on the existence of the world when it is not observed. After all, if our memories are doubtful (which is in fact the basis of Wittgenstein's private language argument, and a lot of Dennett's objections to the classical understanding of qualia), then we have only others' testimony to rely on. Now, what Dennett doesn't say is that we also can't trust written history and others' testimony, for the same reasons... the history could either a) be misrecalled by the historians and written incorrectly, or b) the historical texts themselves could have been altered unbeknownst to anyone; and as far as others go, their memories are just as faulty as ours, right? So how do we know that the tree is still there when we aren't? You can assume, à la Berkeley, that it's in the mind of god... but then you have to believe in a god.

Or, to put it another way, when you say, "an event in space/time", just what do you mean by "space/time", anyway? Those are constructs, especially the space/time of the physicists, and even the space/time of our perceptions, at least according to Kant. But if that's true, then how, ultimately, can we rely on those constructs? Perhaps our memories are all that are backing them up. That is, we get back to the inductive problem, and Hume's critique of it.

But I do seem to remember that the last time I tried walking through a wall, I bumped myself on it. Perhaps I should try it again? But then I'd have to remember it — with all the attendant problems with that — for the next time... unless I videotape it... but, there we are again, assuming that we can trust the video not to have been tampered with, or just to have spontaneously acquired a sequence showing me hitting a wall. Further, we still have the problem of induction: just because I couldn't do it last time, so what?

Assumptions, assumptions. They all sound ridiculous, don't they. But try to refute them in any sense stronger than "common" sense, and you'll find yourself in a bizarre tangle of philosophical positions going back several thousand years, with no firm resolution in sight. Everyone from Descartes to Dennett, Heidegger to Goodman, has had something to say (sometimes quite a bit) on this set of questions. If all you want is common sense, why ask them? But if you want to go further than that, you've got a few years of reading ahead of you.

Steven Ravett Brown

I'm not sure that the question is only about the existence of objects independent of their perception — though it depends on how the age old question is phrased. It is often put as something like: "If a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, does it make a sound?" In this version, we can grant realism, and the independent existence of the tree, and still answer 'no'. This is because it depends on how we define the word 'sound'. We can grant that the falling tree creates compression/rarefaction waves in the air, but claim that a sound is not identical to these waves (though causally linked to them). Rather, sound is the subjective experience caused by these waves in a conscious being — the qualia, to use the technical word. If no-one is there to experience the qualia, then the sound doesn't exist.

Tim Sprod

Autumn Rose asked:

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always pondered the thought of "the complete understanding of what it means to be in-love" and how it is you know you are in-love. I am currently in the most serious relationship of my very young life and i would be relieved to finally know... am I in love? I have experienced infatuation, obsession, lust, and all the other feelings involved with "love". They say you know when it happens. but do you really? For this man I would sacrifice my own feelings of happiness if I thought it brought him more. I fall into complete satisfaction when I'm with him, we read each other's thoughts (sometimes literally), and living in the moment has become living each day on cloud nine. Physically and sexually, I've never been so comfortable with anyone. I could go on and on about this fulfilling relationship, but I still question myself... am I truly in-love?

Brian asked:

This is a question about dualism. Can the mind be split like a physical part of the body can? If you remove certain parts of the brain will certain parts of the mind no longer exist, and can they be relearned without the necessary parts of the brain?

These questions are complex. We are pushed beyond the vexed question of trying to decide what goes on at the interface between mind and body and presented with an intriguing notion about fragmentation of the mind. The latter part of the second question is rather obscure, I am not quite sure what is meant by 'can they be re-learned'. Perhaps I am wrong, but the implication seems to be that memories or knowledge or both are constituents of the mind, which would be lost in the circumstances described.

As you will be aware, Dualism is a massive topic, so the problem is, where do we start? Since Descartes (1596 —1650) convinced himself, and others, that the world is made up of mind stuff and matter stuff , and presented us with the mind — body problem, the topic has branched off into into many different directions and presented many interesting facets. I think we had better stick to the basic ideas of Descartes.

Descartes uses the terms consciousness, mind and soul interchangeably, presuming they are one and the same thing. However, in modern discussion they are sometimes claimed to be different concepts. In some religious circles a tripartite idea suggests that the mind/consciousness is somehow part of the brain — a sort of emanation, the soul presides over this complex and survives death.

Malebranche (1638 —1715) confused the issue further by introducing God into the equation. He said, "It is clear that, in the union of soul and body, there is no other bond than the efficiency of divine and immutable decrees." He saw the union of mind and body as simply another of God's natural laws.

I have no problem with the statement that bodies are extensions of ' matter' in space, but where is the 'mind' stuff? We can point to bodies, and most of us have a notion that we know what we mean by matter/ physical material. We know something about the states of matter, gas, liquid and solid. Unfortunately, we cannot discuss mind in the same way. The substitutions of consciousness and soul don't seem to help. You probably know that Descartes thought the soul was in the pineal gland: this is a small gland so Descartes must have been under the impression that the soul could somehow be condensed into it: but how can a substance that has no material properties be condensed? Also, there does not seem to be any passage in Descartes work in which he explains what he refers to as a "natural connection" of happenings in what he holds to be two distinct substances. Since Descartes science has vastly improved our knowledge of the human body, and particularly the brain. Unfortunately, the mind remains a great mystery.

To come to the idea about 'splitting' the mind. First, we understand that bodies are solid, extended in space, observable, flexible, can be perceived to move, and (after death, hopefully) can be dismembered, dissected, and so on. However, we don' t seem able to say the same things about minds, which are not solid, not extended in space. Does it then follow that because the mind does not have these properties it cannot be split? I can only think of solid things being split. In fact, and this may seem trivial, we would have our work cut out to split a gas or a liquid with a knife or even an axe! Admitted we could partition them, but this is not 'splitting' in the sense posed by the question. To be a liquid or gas, however, the mind would have to be constructed of particles, and as these are material entities that is out of the question. Perhaps the mind is more like a 'force field', say, in my ignorance of other possibilities, magnetism or gravity. I can't see these being split in the way envisaged, we could insulate against magnetism but not against gravity. Another interesting point is, we cannot see these things but we can see their effects. Is mind an unseen entity where only the effects of its actions are observable? More of this and we shall be into Behaviourism!

Experience informs us that there is a link between thought and mechanical action, the problem is again at the interface between mind and body. How does a thought depolarise a nerve fibre?! By taking thought, say deciding to raise my arm, a sort of electrical charge is 'caused' to run down a nerve fibre and effect muscle contraction. A thought has somehow had an effect on a nerve cell membrane to bring about the exchange of ions that produces the electric current. To complicate it further, I 'decide' to play a game of chess. Is it my brain that makes the decision or is it, as Descartes would say, 'I'? There is certainly some difficulty in envisaging a brain that carries out mechanical things making such a decision, I always get the feeling that the brain is doing as it is told, like picking up the phone and dialling so that I may enquire if my friend is available to play chess. Speaking to my friend the brain is wagging my tongue, moving my mandible, flexing my vocal cords, etc., but it seems that 'I' am deciding what to say, and it seems that 'I' am interpreting my friends reply presented to me by the brain's mechanical action of hearing.

Advances in science have not helped by making it evident that the brain is more like a complex gland, a 'wet' thing, rather than the 'dry' electrical thing formerly accepted. We now find that much of the activity in the brain derives from hormone — like substances and chemical transmitters it produces itself. Unfortunately, the science is of no help to the philosophy, the mind and its contact with the brain remains a mystery.

The question bears the implied notion that somehow the mind is sectioned to relate to existing sections of the brain i.e. there is a section of mind over the temporal lobe, a section of mind over the visual cortex, etc.. This does not seem to fit into any dualist concept so far as I am aware. This would involve dividing the mind up or splitting it into sections, as we have discussed, a rather difficult thing to do with a non-material substance. Those who support Dualism usually talk about a complete, 'self-contained' entity, and, so far as the soul is concerned, capable of surviving after death of the body/ brain.

The business about re-learning, as I indicated previously, is difficult to deal with because I am not clear in my ' mind ' what is meant. I must dip into my imagination (imagination! where does that come from?) Let us pursue the idea that mind is a complete entity, not capable of being divided or broken because it is not matter stuff. Let us further consider a person who is obviously showing physical signs of brain damage and with obvious memory loss. All the afflictions seem to be centred on the inability of parts of the brain to work properly, there is no indication that the mind is also impaired; even the signs of memory loss have to be revealed physically, we are able to observe that the person is unable to remember things, but nothing is revealed about the mind. From the dualist point of view no damage can be done to a substance devoid of physical properties.

Here is a very over-simplified analogy. A very skilled joiner arriving to do a job discovers that he has forgotten to bring his screwdriver. The customer lends him an old screwdriver which is bent and has a piece broken off the end. The joiner, a superb craftsman, is seen by the customer to be making a terrible mess of trying to put a screw in a hinge. Do you get my point, there is nothing wrong concerning the skill of the joiner but the tool he is trying to use is not adequate te reveal his skill. Could this be the case when the mind is trying to use a damaged brain? Yes, I would agree that brains have to re-learn things, or as a dualist might say, the damaged parts would have to be re-constituted so that the mind could use them properly.Would there then be a learning process involving the re-co-ordination of mind and brain? It seems there would have to be. Following from this, when the body dies there is not much point in the mind/ soul hanging around. Now we are getting around to reincarnation: I had better finish.

John Brandon

Descartes did hold that the soul interacts with the body via the pineal gland. There, in some mysterious way, the soul effects the motions of the 'animal spirits' passing through, and is affected by them. But if pressed on the question, I don't think Descartes would have said that the soul is 'condensed in' the pineal gland. To be located is an essential property of extended substance. Thinking substance cannot possess any of the essential properties of extended substance. Therefore, thinking substance cannot be located at a point in space.

One is led to the idea that the soul must be located in the pineal gland, by the assumption that all causal connection is 'local' in the sense that the cause and effect must be in contact with one another. Descartes would surely reject this assumption, at least with regard to mind-body interaction, on the ground that 'being contact' is a property that only physical things can have. The alternative, then, is to hold that the soul exerts a local effect although it is not itself located.

Geoffrey Klempner

Rachel asked:

Is it a duty of a human being to volunteer or is it something each individual can do if they want?

I take it that a duty is something we are required to do, or to put it in the jargon, a duty is the practical content of a moral obligation. According to Kant, an action can only have moral worth if it is done from duty. Therefore actions motivated by self-interest (doing something because you like it) or actions motivated by inclination (doing it because you want to) are not morally good. A duty is something you must do irrespective of whether or not you want to. Kant would go so far as to say that if you did a moral deed because you wanted to and not because it was your duty to do so then you would not really be acting morally.

Figuring out whether something is a duty or not — and hence morally good and obligatory — for Kant — involves a kind of calculus. According to one version of the calculus, an action is a duty if and only if you could 'at the same time will that this action should become a universal moral law for all subjects'. In the case of volunteering, I suppose it would depend on what you were volunteering to do. Volunteering to go to war for an unjust cause would not be a duty as it would fail the Kantian calculus for example. In general however, I am inclined to think that acts of voluntary charity, voluntary defence of one's country for a just cause and so on are examples of duties. It would be irrational not to do these things, because if everybody stopped volunteering to do these things, then there would be no charity and our country would be invaded!

Does it follow that you are not morally good if you only did these things because you were inclined to? You might think that wanting to act in a good way is sufficient for you to be doing a good deed or being a good person. So a good question for a Kantian is to ask whether impersonal moral grounds are at all sufficient to explain actions. David Hume for example thought that only a desire can motivate you to act, that the source of moral action lies in the presence of unmotivated desires. On this basis, you would be incapable of volunteering unless you wanted to, because you could always say to yourself 'I see that this is a duty, but I just don't feel like doing that today'. The Kantian who said to himself 'I don't like helping people but I do it because I am rationally required to do so' also seems to lack a moral quality — that of sympathy.

Is Hume right about this? According to Warren Quinn, if one regards ones basic motives simply as desires one happens to have, then these do not give one reasons to act. Reasons of the kind we want are different from rational ones to make sense of our actions. One can ask of one's basic motives whether acting on such desires is good or not. We actually need an affirmative answer to this question if those desires are to provide us with reasons for action. This amounts to saying that our desires are not the type of thing which can give us reason to act, since they do not tell us what we should do. It seems to me that we lose our grip on what we have reason to do if we attempt to begin our account with desires we happen to have. Thus there is no Humean starting point as long as we take ourselves to have reasons to act in a given way. I have racked my brains for a long time as to whether this is an adequate response to Hume.

A. Gatward

Your question is about what are referred to as 'supererogatory acts'. Kant has discussed this in some detail. Briefly, there are some things — duties — that we must do, in order to be moral. Mostly, these are in the nature of negative acts — we must not harm others, or must not tell a lie, for example. However, it may seem that we ought to go beyond this and do positive good for others. While it is morally desirable that we do such things, it doesn't seem that we are required to do them (and note an important difference: while we can refrain from telling lies to all humans, we cannot personally feed all the starving). We do these positive actions voluntarily. While we can be called more highly moral if we do them, it does not seem that we can be called immoral if we don't. Thoughtless or uncaring, maybe, but not immoral. In the light of this, the answer to your question would be: it is not a duty to volunteer.

Tim Sprod

Sherry asked:

A very dear friend of mine has the need to inflict her brightness upon everyone she meets. She does this with me as well. Another friend of ours is also in pursuit of being classified as being "gifted". I do not know every word in the dictionary, but I am continuously learning from my experiences and finding reason for my place in the environments around me. Does my pursuit of a full-felt self not make me gifted, or is being gifted simply discussing philosophical topics on a regular basis and getting exceptional grades?

Does anyone have the right to be classified as gifted?

This is a question fraught with political/ social implications, and my answer here must be taken as simply my own opinion, which no doubt will be unsatisfactory to lots of people... which is the case for any opinion in this arena. So, here goes.

You have two questions here, which are not the same. What does "gifted" mean? Usually it is taken to mean something like: "having an intrinsic ability much greater than the norm in some area". So, given that definition, you are born either gifted or with the potential to be gifted. So that's the start of the controversy; the first question is, what is an "ability", that is, what is it correct to say one is gifted "in"? Well, the classics are things like "intelligence", "creativity", "musical ability", "verbal ability", "athletics". We've started touching on the politically incorrect here... because many people want to say that there is no such singular "thing" or "entity" as, say, "intelligence", or "musical ability", and indeed these are a very hard traits to define, much less to measure. But, and here's my opinion, it is not impossible, nor is it meaningless, to define and measure them, and other abilities, even at very early ages. What supports my opinion? Lots and lots of reading. But, you can object, the people who object to that point of view also have done lots and lots of reading. True, true. And there you are. If you want to evaluate this issue, you yourself will just have to do the reading.

So, let's just move on to the next question, i.e., how dependent on genetics is outstanding ability? The answer to that, politically incorrect as it is, is that there seems to be a strong genetic component to this (from 30% up). Now... contrariwise... it seems possible, with hard work, to literally rewire your brain to dramatically increase your intellectual abilities, for example, in areas for which you have reasonable potential. There are certainly intrinsic limits to human abilities, including intelligence, dictated, if by nothing else, the size of the head, and the number of neurons (and their metabolic efficiency, etc.) that can fit into it. It's like weightlifting... some people pick up a weight and put on muscle, others have to work like crazy, but they all converge, more or less, on the human maximum. But a 6' 6" man will always be stronger, given maximal development, than a 5' man or a 5' woman... for no other reason than there is more muscle mass on a larger frame. Analogously (and very politically incorrectly), if your genetic potential will stop you growing neurons (and by the way, there is very recent work showing strong correlation between amount of gray matter — neural cell bodies — and intelligence — but there is no data on how much this number can be increased by use) before most others, you just won't be able to develop comparable intelligence, like it or not.

Now, however, we have to ask, how do you know, given that you're reasonably intelligent, what those limits are? You don't, if you never push yourself... and I mean push. You will get improvement, if you really, seriously, challenge yourself. But for that you need extremely high motivation, and most people don't have that, for one reason or another. And here is an area which is an open question as to "ability" — how much can we train our motivation to train? That's a really difficult one, and I don't even know of studies in this area, important as it is. Interesting, isn't it? There are all sorts of educational programs, motivational programs, etc., but no one, that I know of, has asked about the genetic basis of motivation, and how, and how much that interacts with learned motivation.

So there's a kind of minimal background in this area... now, your first question, in two parts. First, "Does my pursuit of a full-felt self not make me gifted?" The conventional answer would be no, it does not. The unconventional answer, taking into account what I am saying above about motivation, might be that you are motivationally gifted, if indeed you pursue self-development intensely. Second, "or is being gifted simply discussing philosophical topics on a regular basis and getting exceptional grades?" Clearly this is not the case. The person you're talking about does seem, aside (from what you've said — and that's all I can judge by in this context) from being rather stuck on herself, indeed to be gifted verbally and probably with intelligence also...

Now, all that being said, I'm a bit cynical on this issue; I've known lots of very bright coffee-house failures who regard themselves as "geniuses" on the basis of a good IQ score, being reasonably good at chess or whatever, and who work as carpenters or janitors. I've come to a very pragmatic viewpoint on this... if you do "gifted" work, then you're gifted. Period. So, good grades are nice (depending on how good your school is)... but the real test is whether, if one does philosophy or mathematics or art, one produces good philosophy or mathematics or art, not whether one gets grades, passes tests, scores high on IQ exams, or does outstandingly on whatever measure of "potential" there is, even if that measure is accurate in the sense that it correlates with the achievement of people who do produce. To put it overly simply, you can have a high IQ and do nothing, but you can't do good work without the ability that a high IQ measures (or ideally should measure) and effort. BUT, as I say above, with great motivation and hard work, you can quite literally create ability in yourself, intelligence included.

Your third question, "Does anyone have the right to be classified as gifted?" hits to the heart of the political issues. The current thinking is, as far as I can tell, mostly "no". I disagree. I think that we have a crisis in education, brought about, in part, by grade inflation due to not wanting to hurt students' feelings, being sympathetic to their getting jobs based on grades, etc.... all of which are very nice but destroy the purpose of education. This is a very unpopular position right now, and I'll probably get hate mail for saying it. But it's my opinion, for whatever that's worth. To not be aware of, to not educate on the basis of, to not take advantage of peoples varying abilities and lacks is merely to be and to encourage ignorance. That being said, there are better and worse ways to go about it... and that latter debate is one I do not have anything like space for here.

So, keep on trucking... it sounds like you just need some good friends.

Steven Ravett Brown

Stephen asked:

First off I'm a member of the USAF National Guard, employed full time and a part time college student working on my AA degree in general studies in order to move into a Business program. But first I have to pass my Philosophy class. Our class essay has me stumped, I'm not trying to fool you into thinking that I understand Philosophy at all but I do need to pass the class, and am willing to work hard to do so. Here is the topic.

Compare and contrast the strengths and weaknesses of the following four theories of personal identity. Defend the theory that you think is closest to the truth, and explain which theory you think is farthest from it:

1. (Descartes, Reid) The self is an indivisible spiritual (immaterial) atom.
2. (Locke) The self is a stream of conscious memories.
3. (Hume) The self is a constantly changing bundle of ideas and impressions.
4. (Kant) The self is the organizing principle of our experiences.

— I don't even know where to begin. The essay is due in three weeks. All I'm asking for is a friendly voice with some friendly advice. All I get from my teacher is criticism and negativity. Any specific readings that you could suggest would also be greatly appreciated.

SRA Stephen M. Libertini, USAF

At first, this looks a very difficult question to give to General Studies students, looking for detailed knowledge of the philosophies of Descartes, Reid, Locke, Hume and Kant. In fact, it is possible to contrast the different philosophers' views in a simple and graphic way.

The way to approach this question is dialectically, not in the Marxist but in the Socratic sense: what we are looking for are the specific points at which Locke, Hume and Kant disagree with the Cartesian view of the soul.

Locke, Hume and Kant each describe a vivid thought experimentwhere Descartes' view of the self as an 'immaterial substance' is put to the test, and rejected:

Locke imagines the following possibility. Suppose that, during the night, the soul of a beggar was interchanged with the soul of a Prince. The beggar's soul is put 'in' the Prince's body and the Prince's soul is put 'in' the beggar's body. But suppose that the mischievous demon who engineers the soul swap also transfers the beggar's memories into the Princes' old soul, which is now in the body of the beggar, and the Prince's memories into the beggar's old soul, which is now in the body of the Prince. The result is, that when the beggar and the Prince wake up, neither they, nor anyone else will ever know that anything has happened. Locke concludes that the self or person cannot be identical with a 'soul substance' which could be swapped about in this way without anyone knowing the difference. The criterion for the 'same self' or 'same person' is continuity of memory. not continuity of unknowable soul substance. This is Locke's theory of the self.

Hume proposes an experiment which he says he has tried on himself and which he invites the reader to undertake. The experiment is to try to catch sight of the self, through introspection. The result is that when you inspect the inside of your mind, you do not see a self as such but only individual thoughts, feelings and sensations: "I can never catch myself at any time without a perception, and never observe anything but the perception" (Treatise On Human Nature Book I, pt. iv, sect vi). This leads to Hume's radical proposal that the self is just a compound of those same thoughts, feelings and perceptions, a mere 'bundle of ideas'.

Kant's theory also arises from a thought experiment which criticizes Descartes, but his is the most mind-blowing of the three. In the wonderfully titled 'Paralogisms of Pure Reason' in the Second Part of his Critique of Pure Reason Kant imagines the following scenario. Let's say that as I type these words, my soul substance is totally annihilated, but at the very moment that it is destroyed another soul substance is created and given all of the first soul substance's mental properties. The same process is repeated from moment to moment, so that my mental states are passed from one soul substance to another like the motion in a line of colliding billiard (or 'pool') balls. Kant explains the illusion or 'paralogism' of belief in a soul substance in the following way: we wrongly interpreting the necessary unity of consciousness as the consciousness of unity. Kant's theory is that for experience to be possible at all, experiences must be capable of being strung together to make a coherent account of a unitary subject occupying a single point of view moving about in a world of objects. The identity of the self is the organizing principle that turns a barrage of impressions into a world.

Geoffrey Klempner

Ulrika asked:

Hi, I am a Swedish student working on a project in English concerning violence, and the psychological aspect of this topic. My work is based upon the question why people find violence entertaining or fascinating.

Many films include scenes with the purpose to make the spectator feel disgust or fear, and many films even have got violence as their main theme. A considerable part of the spectators want to watch horror and repulsive scenes. What makes us thrilled by violence? Do we actually enjoy being scared and feel disgust, or why do we voluntarily watch repulsive and horrifying scenes?

I need as much information and opinions as possible to be able to develop and answer the question what it is within fictitious violence that makes it entertaining; why it seems to be a fascinating theme and why people are interested in watching violent movies at all.

You ought to read the introduction to Violence and American Cinema edited by J David Slocum to get some background on the place of violence in society and the meaning or representational nature of violence in film. For instance, film is a new medium in an increasingly impersonal society and perhaps provides a new outlet for aggressive feelings. As far as representation goes, are we simply watching violence, or something more deeply historical and ritualistic such as sacrifice and massacre, actions which have their roots in man's search for social cohesion? This approach might go some way to explaining our fascination with violence.

Of course, man is a violent creature and his aggressive instinct is no less strong than his instinct for love, as the Freudians have told us, so it is not surprising that violence should be entertaining or cathartic and you might look at Hollywood: The Dream Factory by Hortense Powdermaker who found violence to be a main theme in cinema.

While the Freudian analysis focuses on the notions of aggression and catharsis, the existential account of our enjoyment of frightening scenes is that they in some way legitimise the fear and dread that is part of everyone's life. Terror provides some relief from our constant unease. I find this less plausible than the Freudian account of aggression and catharsis, but you might want to find out more from G Leonard's Reading "Dubliners" Again: A Freudian Perspective and a paper by him in P. Vorderer's Suspense: Conceptualizations, Theoretical Analyses and Empirical Explorations. As you will notice, these writings belong to film theory, but film theory draws heavily on philosophical and psychoanalytical ideas.

For a look at the specific nature of the psychological state of enjoying violence, rather than the more general psychological requirement for it, an excellent book is Kendall Walton's Mimesis as Make-Believe. Walton wonders how psychological enjoyment of violence actually is. While we might feel scared and disgusted, these are not the same psychological states we have towards to non-fictional scenes, since they don't cause us to run away. Perhaps we experience physical sensations associated with being scared or disgusted, but do not really experience these emotions. It would be absurd to experience these emotions properly when we know that what we are seeing is not true, but simply acted. Walton argues that we are "fictionally" disgusted and that when we engage with fiction we are participating in a game of make-believe. This line of thought leads again to psychoanalytical notions, such as the instructive and cathartic functions of play.

If you take up the idea that engagement in fiction is a game, or play, you can hardly fail to notice that in general girls don't play violent games but boys do and violent films may be enjoyed more by men than women. Personally, I find it difficult to see anything enjoyable in violence itself but there is a brilliant scene in Reservoir Dogs where one of the one of the gangsters is dancing around to "Stuck in the Middle with You" and then suddenly stops and cuts off the ear of another gangster who is strapped to a chair. It is not the violence in itself that makes the scene amazing, but the contrast between the expectations which are set up by this particular song, its rhythm and the tone of the singer's voice, and the lazy bopping around with the sudden reality of the situation. This contrast does make the violence quite thrilling but I don't think it is distasteful. The scene arouses a very particular response to the artistic nature of the film itself and the psychological nature of this response is better described in terms of expectation and appreciation, rather than relief and catharsis.

So you might want to distinguish two types of attitude: Firstly, there is the aesthetic response where the psychological states of expectation, suspense and relief are fully determined by the artistry of the film-maker and, secondly, the more general response, which is fascination with violence in itself and this may have its roots in man's existential nature or modern society, or it might be reliant on gender type.

Good luck with you project: I'm sure it'll be really interesting.

Rachel Browne

My view is that you are (as you hint) asking a psychological question rather than a philosophical one, so that to find an answer would require empirical research rather than asking philosophers. Of course, there is some overlap with philosophy. One might ask what we ought to do about violence and violent films if we believe that finding violence entertaining is morally (and practically) a bad thing. On this one, my view is that it is a bad thing that we find violence entertaining, and that therefore we ought not to support the industries that cash in on it by going to see violent films, no matter how good they might be said to be in other ways. This raises another interesting question for me: can art be good (aesthetically) if it is not good (morally) — or at least morally neutral. That one really puzzles me.

Tim Sprod

Jack asked:

Has anyone come up with a set of criteria that, if satisfied, would prove that god existed? For instance if all the radio stations in the world simultaneously were interrupted with the message in their native tongue saying that god exists, while at the same time the stars and sun blinked on and off for ten minutes, would this be proof?

Would any experiment be free from suspicion or logical flaws?

Well, the first question I would ask is, to which god you are referring? I think that it would be easy to prove that Thor exists, for example... you see someone who looks like Thor should look, riding through the sky pulled by a hammer, who causes lightning and thunder when he throws it. Then you get him to take you to Valhalla over the bridge Bifrost, and so forth. That would do it, wouldn't you think? What about Krishna? We could go through the various characteristics of that god and find some that would go beyond human capabilities and would fit his, and if he exhibited them that would be, if not absolute proof, pretty good evidence, I would say. Baron Samedi? Well, pretty much the same.

The Christian god? Um... which one? The one who makes the Pope infallible, or the one who saves anyone who repents and bathes in a river in a suitable religious ceremony... or perhaps you're referring to the one who sent the angel Moroni to Joseph Smith? And certainly we shouldn't forget the Islamic god(s)... there are at least two major sects there also, if I recall correctly, and they can't both be right... just like one Christian god can't both make and not make the Pope infallible, etc., etc. Then there's Judaism, and on... and on...

Well. Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that there's some creature ("god") we hypothesize as being infinitely powerful, ignore all the paradoxes that result from the term "infinite", and ask what evidence we need to ascertain that creature's infinite power. That would require infinitely great effects, right? So something as trivial as, say, blinking the sun — or even the galaxy — on and off just isn't big enough; that could just as well be caused by some alien race... we've got to think big here... perhaps the whole universe blinking on and off? But then the problem is, how could we teeny finite creatures know that infinite changes were being made? So we've got two kinds of problems with ascertaining the existence of an infinitely powerful creature: 1) getting it to manifest something infinite, and 2) ascertaining that manifestation's infinite extent... difficult for finite entities like ourselves, I would say.

Now, I suppose that if we died and found ourselves in, say, the Islamic paradise (or actually, for those of us who are infidels, the Islamic hell)... and we could determine that we had actually died and weren't hallucinating or the victims of an elaborate deception of some sort, and the hell fit all the parameters of Islam's hell as described in the Koran... well, then that would pretty much do it. Unfortunately for that kind of very strong evidence (not, given the above meditation on infinity, proof, mind you... it might be that Islam — or whatever religion you want to fill in the blank with here — is mistaken about its god but correct about its hell, for example), you have to die. So not only is there a repeat of the "infinite" problem, above, but there's another little problem with consensual validation here... viz., communicating reliably with the living to let them know.

So that leaves blind faith, which would certainly indicate why religions are so strong on it. However, as you can probably see from the tone of my answer, I'm not too enthusiastic about the "blind" aspect of faith; I'm an empiricist, myself.

Steven Ravett Brown

There are arguments that effect the likelihood of there being a god. For example, the existence of this kind of world makes the existence of god more likely than it would have been if this kind of world did not exist. In other words, some types of evidence raise the probability that there is a god, while other 'atheological' arguments reduce that likelihood. However, there is an important distinction here: you want an argument that would make the existence of god more likely than not. This is different from simply raising that likelihood. There is a kind of inductive threshold then which one must cross before this kind of argument becomes convincing.

How likely is the claim that there is a god? Not that likely, given the kinds of supernatural properties and abilities he is supposed to have and our everyday experience of the world. God's abilities and properties differ hugely from our everyday experience. While this does not prove that there isn't a god, it seems to me that the more unlikely a claim sounds, given what else we know and given our background experience, the greater the burden of proof is upon the person who makes such a claim to start with. In the case of god this places a huge burden of proof on someone who claims that there is a supernatural being who has the properties that god is thought to possess. This is a general suspicion behind any argument or experiment designed to show that there is a god.

A. Gatward

No, no, and no. A being that had the power to perform all the feats you describe would have our undivided attention, but not an incontestable claim to divinity.

Maybe the God-affirming radio pirate knew about the blinking stars in advance and simply exploited it as a dramatic backdrop to his propaganda. We would be justified in regarding the source of "God exists" and its non-English equivalents as an intelligent (but not a divine) being who is attempting to communicate with other intelligent beings. A physical event by itself, however, no matter how astounding (like the celestial light show), is not necessarily evidence of personal activity.

Your second question does not make clear whether the interruptions are in the languages regularly heard on those stations or whether each listener hears the message in his or her own language, regardless of his or her location. The former would involve fantastic mechanical control, but the latter would involve even more astonishing mental telepathy.

But even a being who had such telepathic and star-manipulating power could not logically compel us to accept that being's broadcast messages as true solely on the warrant of that great power. Such a being would be godlike, but does that imply that he or she would be God, i.e., the creator and sustainer of the cosmos? No.

Your questions imply that finding out whether God exists is like finding out whether there is, for example, yet another planet in our solar system. An experiment with repeatable, sensory evidence is irrelevant in the former case, as it would be in deciding whom to marry or what career to pursue. A method appropriate to one area of experience is not necessarily appropriate to others. Even in the case of finding out about heavenly bodies, the evidence is always short of "proof" in the sense of "an argument that one is compelled to accept on pain of self-contradiction." Outside of math and logic, there are no such proofs.

If that is so, then there are no successful proofs for the existence of God. There are, however, philosophers who claim that the hypothesis of God's existence explains better than its rivals the harmony of various orders of our existence: atomic, chemical, biological, logical, psychological, intellectual, moral, and religious. There are, of course, philosophers ready to challenge such a claim, but this, and not the search for the right experiment, is in my opinion that proper approach to the question of God's existence.

Tony Flood

Your question looks, to me, like a specific example of a much broader question: what level of evidence is required to prove facts about the world — scientific, experimental facts, if you like. Asking for a proof of god's existence in the sorts of terms that you use (and not on the basis of faith, for example), is to ask for an empirical (or scientific) proof of god.

As such, we can look towards the philosophy of science literature on the nature of proof. Currently, I would say, the consensus is that no amount of evidence conclusively proves a scientific theory about the state of the world (such as, in your example, that god is a scientific fact). It is always possible to appeal to other possible explanations of the phenomena, although these may start to look very far fetched in the face of certain events (such as those you describe) and most people might switch to the alternative explanation if it looks simpler and more elegant. So, atheists might give up their current world view and become believers if your events occurred (although they might start believing in cosmic practical jokers instead).

Tim Sprod

Emily asked:

How satisfactorily does Plotinus distinguish between intellect and soul?

Plotinus developed a system of 3 hierarchies, which are referred to as hypostases. This triad consists of the One, the Nous (which is mind or intellectual principle), and the All Soul (World Soul Human Soul). In his hypostases, the One is an eternal principle from which the Intellect (Nous) proceeds and which in turn produces the All Soul. The two hypostases which concern us are the Intellect and the All Soul.

There is a clear distinction between these two emanations. The Intellect corresponds to the World of Ideas first expressed by Plato. In Plotinus' system, the Intellect goes beyond the Platonic Idea in that it is organic and not just a mathematical structure. For the individual, the Intellect becomes intuitive thought, which does not require discursive reasoning. Its essence is more than rational thought, it is being, that which comprehends all. Plotinus goes on to show that the Intellect contains no reflective logical thought. From this hypostases, the Soul evolves as a product of the Intellect.

It is the Soul which then becomes responsible for reflective or contemplative thought. The Soul becomes the link between the intelligible world and the phenomenal world. Although both the Intellect and the Soul contain images of the Idea, they are distinct. The reason for this distinction results from the premise that through the process of emanation, you move from one stage to another, a process of devolution. It becomes a procession from an eternal principle. The procession flows from the One to the Nous to the All Soul. Each partakes of the whole (One), yet remains distinct.

John Eberts

According to Plotinus, Intelligence (nous) is the first emanation of "the One" and from intelligence in its turn emanates the Soul (psyche). Plotinus considers these emanations to be necessary and timeless. This means there is a logical dependence between the emanations, but being different levels of emanation, Intellect and Soul are well distinguished from each other in their function in the whole: the emanation of intelligence is similar to Plato's world of Forms (structure and essence of a thing contrasted with its matter), while the Soul can be conceived as the active principle, that imposes the rational structure of Intelligence on the world of matter, which is the emanation of the Soul. It is hard to say, whether this distinction can be bindingly "satisfactory". It is at least to Neoplatonists.

Simone Klein

Gonzalo asked:

What questions should we ask ourselves in order to know ourselves. How do we accomplish this goal?

Probably you can only really get to know yourself from experience. Of course you can have lots of experiences without becoming self-aware, so you need to be self-reflective. Yet that being said, man's capacity for self-deception is enormous and we don't really want to know unpleasant things about ourselves. But to know ourselves properly, we have to try to face up to what we find unacceptable — or settle for the belief that it's best not to know ourselves too well.

The best question to ask yourself is "why?"

Rachel Browne

According to Immanuel Kant in the Critique of Pure Reason, they are:

What can I know?
What ought I to do?
What may I hope?

That is, they are the core questions of epistemology, ethics and theology. The answer for him is to study pure reason.

According to me, it is probably something like "How is it that I can come to be a knowing subject?" The answer lies in a holistic investigation of growing up in a community, taking account of philosophy, psychology, science, ethics, communications and many other fields.

Tim Sprod

Do Xuan asked:

All the ancient oriental studies seem to find way to one highest level of understanding and mixing well up with the universe. Is there a theory like that in western community?

There are many theories like this in Western philosophy. You might even say that Plato advocates this. But there are several questions I have about your question and your implicit position. First, you say "highest level of understanding". I assume you mean something like enlightenment in Zen, the removal from the wheel of karma in Hinduism, and so forth. That is, that there is a "highest" state of being which enables one to transcend, in some manner, the world. You find this kind of thing mostly in the writings of religious mystics in the West, and, inasmuch as I understand them, the same is true in the Eastern traditions. So if you want to read this sort of thing in the Western tradition, take a look at Jakob Boheme, the Jewish Kabbala, Kierkegaard, and so forth. That is, those "theories", as you put it, are religiously motivated, in that they 1) involve some sort of transcendence of normal, "worldly" existence, and 2) are taken as dogma.

And that last point is the sticking point for me. That is, as a philosopher, it is the point which I have intense dislike for. Why? Because questioning, active investigation, stops with the dogma. Let's look at this. Why, first, is there the assumption that the world can be transcended? Usually, those acts of transcendence are specific to the religion. That is, in Zen there is one kind of enlightenment, in Hinduism another, in Christian mysticism yet another, and so forth, and this great variety of religious traditions argues against the actuality of any of these, since there are so many contradictory claims. Second, recent work in neurophysiology has begun to uncover the neural basis of the feeling of transcendence. Now, one can claim that there is a conscious state which corresponds to, or is associated with "enlightenment". I have no quarrel with this. My quarrel is with the assumption that because we are in some mental state, that state makes some coherent reference to actuality: that it refers to something real. We have many examples of states which have no basis in or relation to reality. So feeling as if we have special knowledge of, or have transcended reality, is just that: a feeling. And, as I say, given that this feeling is, for the most part, connected to very specific dogmas about the existence of some particular god, or about the structure of the universe; and given that those dogmas are all contradictory, we are left with just the feeling.

The question to ask, I think, is, "what function, generally, does this feeling serve?" That is, why have we evolved this feeling; what advantage does it confer on those who have it... is it a holdover from times when man needed something like this to bond in groups, or merely to alleviate boredom?

These questions are, finally, starting to be asked. We are now in a culture where we can investigate religious claims, and religious feelings, without being burned at the stake or imprisoned, like Galileo. We are told, of course, that such investigations are "scientific", i.e., that they turn people into objects, that they are blasphemous, or simply that scientists are sadly out of touch with "reality", meaning that they do not hold the particular dogma they are investigating; that, since they are attempting to be impartial, they are disqualified from their search. A very nice source for this kind of thing is Sagan's book, The Demon-Haunted World. You might take a look at that. It's a kind of metaphysical cold shower.

But I'm not saying that looking at all of this is meaningless or invalid. As cultural studies, as studies of the human condition, of how we cope with reality, these are extremely valuable and important. I am, however, advocating a rather unpopular position, that of taking a certain stance toward those "theories", including those of your own culture, which entails a distancing, to prevent oneself from making the assumption they are to any extent correct. This is not the same as assuming that they are not useful, and certainly not the same as assuming that they do not play important parts in cultures.

Steven Ravett Brown

Nat asked:

In what sense MUST water be H2O?

This is a natural necessity which needs support from the doctrine of essentialism, and you might want to look at Kripke's book Naming and Necessity on this. On Kripke's view, if we imagine a world in which there is something which looks identical to water and is used for the exactly the same purposes for which we use water, but has a different constitution such as XYZ rather than H2O, we wouldn't say that the stuff was water. Kripke thinks there can be "fool's water" as there can be "fool's gold" and this would be water which is not H2O. On the other hand, if we found H2O had different identifying marks than those we use to identify water at the moment, that would still be water. Natural kinds are identified and defined by their molecular structure, so water is and must be H2O. This differs from tables and chairs, for instance, since these could be wooden or metal. That water must be H2O relies on the essentialism since we can only hold this if we take it that water necessarily has the property of being H2O.

An alternative view would be that water is the stuff in the sea and rivers which we wash with and drink regardless of its chemical constitution, and even if its constitution changed, we would regard it as water. Of course, before it was known that water is H2O people had beliefs about it and referred to it, so the problem that arises is how they could have had the true belief that the "water level in the river is high this year".

The essentialist statement that water must be H2O is a "de re" proposition and an a posteriori truth. Necessity in such propositions relates to the property of a thing and this is in contrast to "de dicto" propositions where a whole statement is taken to be necessarily true in the sense that it cannot be false. It could be false that water is H2O in that it could have had a different constitution, so it is not a de dicto necessity.

Necessity is also defined as truth in all possible worlds, which is again to claim that a proposition could not be false, but "water is H2O" can be true in this sense depending on what we take a possible world to be. For Kripke, when we talk about water in another possible world, we mean our water which is H2O since water is identified with its molecular structure, but for other philosophers we mean the stuff in the sea and rivers, whatever its constitution.

Rachel Browne

There's no reason at all that water must be H2O. In fact, there is a great deal of water that is not. It contains salt (NaCl) and various other compounds and ions. We call this complex "water", do we not? Now, if you start by defining "water" as H2O, then, in order to be consistent with this definition, you must use the term "water" or "pure water" to refer to that compound. On the other hand, if, in the question above, you are referring to the same compound by two terms, and have explicitly said that beforehand, then, again, in order to be consistent with your use of those terms, water and H2O must refer to the same existent substance.

But both of these are contingent on your use, definitions and suppositions. There are no "musts" about language. The problem here is that one is caught in a kind of ambiguity between language and substance, sense and reference, if you will. In order to compare two substances to see if they are the same, do we use their names? Not originally, nor should we. We should make physical tests of their characteristics, and if they match (closely enough), we know they are the same substances (i.e., exemplars, tokens, of the same physical types). Thus, if what we're calling water is a substance in a bottle, and what we're calling H2O is one in another, and we compare those substances, then, yes, water is H2O, and if that identity is fundamental enough (the same molecular structure), we say, assuming consistent laws of chemistry, etc., that water must be H2O. But then we have a problem with the next bottle, with the lake outside the room, etc. We have to assume, based on appearance, that what seems to be water (or what seems to be H2O) in those locations actually is... and since we have independently determined that water is H2O, we also assume that those substances are also H2O (or water), given constant laws of chemistry, etc. But now we have the general problem of induction and the more specific problem(s) of identifying similar substances (the lake might be a mirage, glass, or it might be alcohol), where the latter is a more classical empirical problem.

You have touched here on several very complex issues, in language and in induction, and the meta-problem of distinguishing (inasmuch as possible) those issues. I can't possibly do justice to this question here; in order to have reasonable background for this you need to read analytic philosophy, philosophy of science, and about the actual practice of science. Then there are the counter-arguments to the analytic position... and on and on. Putnam has a lot to say about this issue (e.g., Putnam, H. (1994). "Sense, nonsense, and the senses: an inquiry into the powers of the human mind." The Journal of Philosophy 91(9): 445-517; also, Putnam, H. (1973). "Meaning and reference." The Journal of Philosophy 70 (19): 699-711).

Steven Ravett Brown