Indexicality and Gettier

One way out of the Gettier cases is to employ the relation between indexicality – that is, self-location in space and time – and knowledge. Here, I argue that an added condition of indexicality for the Justified True Belief view of knowledge (henceforth, JTB) helps the view escape Gettier’s criticism. First, I summarize Gettier’s argument. Then, I discuss indexicality in relation to his first case, clarifying the added condition. Lastly, I provide an original example that better demonstrates the use of indexicality in such cases.

JTB is the view that S knows that p if and only if and because (i) p is true, (ii) S believes that p, and (iii) S is justified in believing that p (Gettier 1963, 1). Providing two cases, Gettier concludes that this view should either be amended or done away with.

The first case illustrates a man, Smith, competing with another man, Jones, for a job. Smith comes to form the belief that, (a), <Jones will get the job and Jones has 10 coins in his pocket>. His justification includes having been told by the boss that Jones will get the job and counting 10 coins in Jones’s pocket. Smith believes, further, the conditional, (b), <If Jones will get the job and Jones has 10 coins in his pocket, then the man that gets the job has 10 coins in his pocket>. Consequently, Smith believes, (c), <The man that gets the job has 10 coins in his pocket>.  Loandbehold, Smith gets the job and has 10 coins in his pocket. Thus, Smith held a true belief, but lacked accurate justification.

Indexicality can help elucidate Gettier’s issues. Locating oneself in space and time is essential to provide an accurate justification for some other belief. When Smith generalizes his claim about Jones, from (a) to (c), the general claim is still context sensitive. Namely, “the man” is not any or some man; it is Jones, and Jones alone. Thus, we have propositions – <Jones gets the job and has 10 coins in his pocket> and <Smith gets the job and has 10 coins in his pocket>. The first of these propositions is a justified false belief; the second of these propositions is an unjustified true belief.

JTB must have a further condition – one of indexicality. Here is the amended view: S knows that p if and only if and because (i) p is true, (ii) S believes that p, (iii) S is justified in believing that p, and (iv) p is properly located by S, indexically.

Under this view, it becomes apparent that, over time, propositions gain and lose truth and falsity. To further gather the implications of the amended view, consider the following scenario. Suppose that, in some distantly possible world where holes in the space-time continuum create invisible teleportation portals, a pair of twins, Sarah and Alex, decide to walk through a dark forest. The twins are wearing identical dresses and decide to go different directions. Both leave a breadcrumb trail as they walk. Sarah is unaware, but she walks directly into a teleportation portal. She has been teleported to the place she had been 30 seconds earlier. Looking at the ground, she comes to believe that she has picked up Alex’s breadcrumb trail – when she looks up, she sees a girl wearing an identical dress to hers about 25 meters ahead. She comes to believe that it is Alex just ahead of her. In fact, Alex is just beyond the portal and Sarah did see her momentarily, since the portals bleep in and out of existence. But in fact, Sarah is now seeing herself, as the portal is some kind of visual loop. It is not until the breadcrumb pile gets deeper and deeper between the two portals (for Sarah continually goes through it) that Sarah comes to realize she has fallen victim to this bizarre phenomenon of her world. Sarah then comes to believe that she is seeing herself dropping the breadcrumbs, not Alex.

So, Sarah originally forms the belief that <Alex is ahead of me dropping breadcrumbs>. She is “justified”, since she briefly sees her, her twin is identical, wearing the same dress, and is known to be dropping breadcrumbs. Further, it is a true belief,  since Alex is ahead of Sarah to begin with. But once Alex has walked away, Sarah’s belief becomes a justified belief that is false. Then, once she has located herself in space and time, she once again possesses a justified true belief, satisfying all conditions of the amended view, <I have been seeing myself drop breadcrumbs>.

I have argued that an amendment to JTB gets through at least one Gettier case. Further, it is even able to get through more bizarre counterfactual scenarios. An obvious issue remains: what of Gettier’s second case?

On Language, Sci-Fi Film, and Non-Human Entities

In this paper, I argue that science fiction literature (science fiction film, in particular), challenges a central philosophical claim of Wittgenstein’s. The suggestion is that, “If a lion could talk, we could not understand him”, which can be made universal (and more accurate to Wittgenstein’s view) by simply rephrasing it to say, “If a non-human entity could talk, we could not understand it”. However, it is through the lense of film, as a narrative text, that one is able to see, hear, and feel the experiences of non-human entities (whether they be robots, aliens, or something of the like). I use three films to criticize Wittgenstein’s quote: Alphaville, Hardware, and District 9, spoken of in their respective historical order. From these three examples I sufficiently development an attack on Wittgenstein’s quote, finally suggesting that he was mistaken in his claim.

It is necessary, before delving into our films, to understand Wittgenstein’s quote more fully. This will aid us in both understanding how to respond to it and what consequences follow from the response. Our universally formulated version of Wittgenstein’s view (that, “If a non-human entity could talk, we could not understand it”) can be amended further, for clarification.

Three amendments to be considered: (i) what should be considered a non-human entity, (ii) what do we mean by “talking”, and (iii) what do we mean by “understanding”. Let us take each individually.

1. Non-Human Entities: We must take this simply to mean something that does not fulfill the definition of “human entity”. We can take “human entity” to be something that contains the DNA sequences necessary for the biological form of the species in question. Thus, something that is not that is the subject we speak of.
2. Talking: The term “talking” will be used loosely for our purposes. It should be understood as any action that transfers information.

iii. Understanding: The term “understanding” can simply be taken as the passive action of obtaining information, processing information, and gaining knowledge of information that has been transferred to the individual through some means.

Here, then, is the doubly-amended view in question: “If something that does not contain the DNA sequences necessary for the biological form of the human species could transfer information, we could not obtain, process, or gain knowledge of the information being transferred from said non-human entity”. From this point, we can move forward to analyze whether this claim is true.

Science fiction film, as a narrative text, explores the relations between humans and non-human entities. The non-human entities often come in the form of either some sort of intelligent machine or alien species that has come into contact with humans. An intriguing aspect of this genre, however, is that the non-human entities (whatever they may be in any given narrative text) are able to communicate with humans, on some rudimentary level. What, then, do we make of these interactions? I suggest that it lends evidence against Wittgenstein’s view that if non-humans could talk, we could not understand them. I offer three examples from science fiction film that suggest that the ability of humans to empathize negates Wittgenstein’s view.

1. Alphaville (1965)

In Alphaville, we see the emergence of a self-conscious supercomputer, and hear its muddled and confused account of its personal growth from purely logical thinking to poetic thinking. The film is narrated by Alpha 60, the self-conscious supercomputer, and can be thought of as its first attempt at poetic storytelling. In essence, it is telling its creation account.

There are a number of elements that make this fictional work believable, though. First, the sound in the film is choppy, disconnected, and often feels uncomfortable and confusing. Second, the spatial reality of the film is disorienting and sometimes makes little sense, even after analyzing specific scenes. This is clearest while Lemmy Caution (our protagonist) first enters his hotel room in Alphaville. During a random, unexpected fight scene (which itself is awkward and unexplained by our narrator) the spectator gets a layout of the hotel room. There are a number of strange spatial anomalies, however, and they go unexplained. Lastly, there are a number of strange plot holes that are left unexplained. Namely, toward the end of the film and at the moment of Lemmy Caution’s “success”, the citizens of Alphaville begin acting strangely, sliding across walls, rather than walking down the hallway. While this confusion is occurring, there are clearly cars driving with great success in the background; however, wouldn’t the cars be chaotically operating, given that the humans of Alphaville are not fully functioning? These three narrative peculiarities give us a glimpse into the mind of Alpha 60, our non-human, narrating supercomputer.

However confusing Alpha 60’s account may be, the audience still understands the plot, connects with the characters, and can analyze specific aspects of the narrative. What we have, then, is a fictional case of (i) a non-human entity (ii) that can transfer information which (iii) is also understood by humans.

1. Hardware (1990)

Hardware is a science fiction thriller involving a ferocious fight between M.A.R.K. 13 (a robot programmed to kill humans) and a number of humans in a post-apocalyptic world. It is not evidenced whether M.A.R.K. 13 (M13) is self-conscious, or even aware of his purpose, but this is not of importance to our goal. M13 is an entity that can communicate through its actions. Throughout the film, there are a few first-person shots from M13’s perspective. Yes, we are not experiencing M13’s visual experience, for it must b      e translated through our visual experience, but we are able to understand the information being transferred. Seeing M13’s first-person perspective fulfills our definition of “talking”, then, since it transfers visual information to another entity. Furthermore, we are able to understand this visual information. Therefore, we have three narrative elements that consequentially come from Hardware: (i) we have a non-human entity that (ii) is able to transfer information (through its behavior), and (iii) the one’s receiving the information can understand it.

iii. District 9 (2009)

In District 9 we witness the development, and ultimately the rejection, of aliens as part of human society. In the movie, one encounters a number of non-human entities living in a slum in South Africa. The aliens are subject to repeated instances of discrimination, distrust, and general hatred, however the film aims to have the audience understand their point of view, and, ultimately, empathize with the non-humans.

Throughout the movie, there are a large number of vocal communications between humans and aliens. And, in fact, there seems to be some amount of translation that occurs amongst the two groups, so that they understand one another. We have, then, (i) non-human entities that (ii) transfer information (vocally) to humans, and (iii) the humans sufficiently understand the non-humans.

It has been suggested that, “If something that does not contain the DNA sequences necessary for the biological form of the human species could transfer information, we could not obtain, process, or gain knowledge of the information being transferred from said non-human entity”. The above examples offer three cases where:

(i) a non-human entity exists,

(ii) a non-human entity transfers information to humans, and

(iii) humans understand the information being transferred to them from a non-human source.

If (i)-(iii) are true, which it has been shown that they are, then Wittgenstein’s claim does not go through, and one is left with inter-species communication.

Wittgenstein’s assertion intends to block the possibility of communication across species lines. This is accomplished through work in the philosophy of language and epistemology, which suggest that the experiences that non-humans have with the world is so different from the experiences that humans have with the world that they would be unable to communicate, whatsoever.

The study of science fiction as narrative text (and film, in particular) challenges this notion. It shows, instead, that film allows the human to empathize and, ultimately, come to understand the position of the non-human. This thesis has been defended by three examples in film. First, Alphaville demonstrated that a fictional supercomputer could express its experiences (however poorly the computer may do it); next, Hardware shows that a robot can express its innerworkings through the actions it performs; and, lastly, District 9 illustrates a situation where non-humans are so acutely understood that the audience supports them over the human race (and rightfully so). It may be sufficiently concluded, then, that Wittgenstein was mistaken when he claimed that, “If a lion could talk, we could not understand it”.

On The Good Life and Games

1. Introduction

I aim to assess the fictional life of Herman Hesse’s protagonist Joseph Knecht, of The Glass Bead Game. I address two central questions in relation to his life: (i) Was Knecht’s life a good life for its subject? Furthermore, (ii) was Knecht’s life a life of playing games, and, if it was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life? In my reply to (i), I engage in serious discussion with Hurka’s work, The Best Things in Life; likewise, in my reply to (ii), I discuss central issues from Suits’s work, The Grasshopper. In pursuing these questions, I conclude that Knecht’s life was, indeed, a good life for its subject, his life was a life of games, but was not itself a game, and his involvement in game-playing contributes to the goodness of his life.

1. Framing the Questions

The answers provided to questions often depend on the nature of the question itself. Slight differentiations in phrasing can lead to exponential differentiations in the answer given. It is important, then, that the questions asked are fully understood before providing an answer. Let us take each question individually:

 

• Was Knecht’s life a good life for its subject?

 

A possible point of contention here lies in the phrase, “a good life for”. Is “a good life for” equivalent to “a valuable life relative to S”? Or, is “a good life for” equivalent to “a healthy life for S”? There are, then, two ways that this question can be taken, one of which I address in this paper and the other I do not. The first interpretation can be better understood when phrased, (i) “Is Knecht’s life a valuable life relative to its subject?”; the second interpretation can be better understood when phrased, (ii) “Is Knecht’s life a healthy life for its subject?”. I address the former and do not confront the latter.

 

• Was Knecht’s life a life of playing games, and, if it was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life?

 

I see at least two ways to interpret the question at hand. Namely, (i) “Was Knecht’s life numerically identical to a game, and, if it was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life?” and (ii) “Was Knecht only ever playing games during his life, but have the option not to, and, if he was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life?”. The first of these two questions yields a far more interesting discussion, seeing as it is fairly clear that most of Knecht’s life was engaged in game playing (as we will shall see in due time). Therefore, I will engage in a detailed response of (i) and will only briefly examine (ii).

 

• Moving Forward

 

Here are the questions at hand:

1. Is Knecht’s life a good life relative to its subject?

2a. Was Knecht’s life numerically identical to a game, and if it was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life?

2b. Was Knecht only ever playing games during his life, but have the option not to, and, if he was, does it count for or against the goodness of the subject’s life?

With these refined and further understood questions, it is now possible to move forward and begin an assessment of Joseph Knecht’s life.

III. A Good Life Relative To Its Subject

 

• An Overview of Hurka

 

In his book The Best Things in Life, Hurka provides an account of what things one may pursue in order to attain a good life. Hurka offers a pluralistic view, suggesting that there are a number of goods that one can pursue, but it is best to seek a well-rounded life with only slight specialization in a certain good. Here are a few examples of goods that Hurka discusses:

1. Pleasure,
2. Knowledge,
3. Achievement, and
4. Virtue.

Hurka’s view, then, can be demonstrated by relating two of the goods to one another in a counterfactual life. Consider a person who has the competing goods of achievement and knowledge (it is easiest to simplify and only compare two goods, rather than all four). This person can either (i) pursue as much achievement as is possible, (ii) pursue as much knowledge as is possible, (iii) pursue a well-rounded amount of both, or (iv) pursue both, but specialize in one more than the other.

(i) and (ii) inevitably lead to diminishing returns, suggests Hurka. For if one pursues as much achievement as is possible, at some point a finite amount of further achievement will have drastically less value than gaining a finite amount of knowledge. The same holds conversely. (iii) also has problems, though. For if one pursues a balanced, well-rounded amount of both goods, then one will be unable to attain a significant amount of either good. Hurka shows this with a simple example:

“The pursuit of well-roundedness is therefore most counterproductive when it stops you from acquiring any fundamentals, as when trying to learn twenty languages leaves you knowing the grammar of none”.

A well-rounded life has the problem of dissipating one’s energies and ultimately yielding little gain. This leaves the individual with (iv): pursue both goods, but specialize in one more than the other. Aiming for (iv) avoids the problem of diminishing returns associated with (i) and (ii), while also avoiding the problem of counterproductivity associated with (iii).

 

• An Overview of Joseph Knecht

 

Let us now turn to Joseph Knecht, the protagonist of Herman Hesse’s novel, The Glass Bead Game. In the fictional biography, Knecht is a talented young student of music in Castalia, the world’s hub of intellectual activity. Knecht excels to great heights throughout school, becoming “Magister Ludi”, a sort of director of the Glass Bead Game. The game focuses exclusively on making deep connections between various art forms and philosophy, but is only ever described vaguely and with no concrete detail. Ultimately, and through much introspection, Knecht chooses to leave Castalia to pursue the uniting of Castalian ideals with the outer-world. Soon after his departure, Knecht drowns as a consequence of never having learned to swim.

 

• Hurka and Knecht

 

The question of goodness in relation to Knecht’s life is particularly intriguing, considering both his vast life achievements and apparent gaining of knowledge. Let us take each life good individually.

1. Pleasure

Knecht’s pursuit of pleasure is not something covered in the book, for the most part. It is fair to assume, however, that Knecht gained pleasure through the attainment of the other goods, for many times when someone achieves or comes to know something, they experience pleasure over its being reached. It is fair to assume, then, that Knecht did come to experience pleasure as a consequence of the other goods.

We can draw an important distinction, here, which Hurka does not make in his book, but needs to be shown. Of the goods in one’s life, one can have intended goods and/or one can have side-effect goods. An intended is good is such a good that one attains through the activity of the will, while a side-effect good is such a good that one attains as a consequence of the attainment of other goods. A person that attains great achievement through his activation of the will is gaining an intended good. The pleasure that he consequently has from his achievement is a side-effect good.

A clear question then arises: Is the attainment of a side-effect good of the same value as the attainment of a good that one intended to come into the possession of? The intuitive answer is “no”. Our feeling toward this question suggests that working toward something adds some amount of value to the object, once it has been acquired. Nonetheless, a side-effect good is certainly of some value, which must, then, add to the good of one’s life.

1. Knowledge

There are two sorts of “knowledge” that Knecht encounters throughout his life. The first is the ethereal knowledge found in the glass bead game, which is, arguably, the vast majority of Knecht’s knowledge; the second is an introspective/extrospective knowledge of the world, which is a definite minority of Knecht’s knowledge (evidenced by his absurdist death, due to the lack of knowledge of basic life skills).

Hurka argues that there are three kinds of knowledge: knowledge of the self, knowledge of the world, and knowledge of how the self relates to the world. If this is the case, then a vast majority of Knecht’s knowledge does not fit in with Hurka’s definition. The glass bead game does not necessarily yield knowledge (as Hurka defines it) for it does not seem to require an accurate reflection of the goings on of the world, self, or the relation between the two. Rather, it only requires that one makes “deep connections” between the various art pieces and philosophy. But, again, it is not necessary that these connections hold true in the world outside of the game.

By the end of the book, Knecht realizes the weakness of Castalia and sets out to experience the outer-world. This directly implies that he realizes some truth about the world and his relation to it (namely, that he desires the uniting of Castalia and the outer-world). Furthermore, throughout the novel Knecht displays vasts amount of self-knowledge. Therefore, Knecht achieves knowledge of the world, self, and the relation between the world and the self (however limited this knowledge may be).

1. Achievement

The final good that is left for discussion is also the most obviously attained good in Knecht’s life. Hurka defines achievement as “master[ing] reality by imposing an idea on it”. One forms a goal in one’s mind and makes it so that the idea is realized in the world. Knecht clearly engages in this pursuit. All things that Knecht puts his mind to, he excels at. But not only does he excel, Knecht manages to be recognized for his talents, leading to many societal achievements (but primarily that of becoming Magister Ludi).

1.  Sub-Conclusion

Knecht satisfies at least three of Hurka’s criteria. He is able to have the side-effect good of pleasure, and the intentional goods of knowledge and achievement. Under Hurka’s view, though, the best life is one that has a number of goods but is able to “specialize” (to some degree) in one good, in particular. Does Knecht manage this? I think, “yes”.

Taking the three goods we have discussed, let us see if any can be considered a “specialized intentional-good”. The first in our discussion, pleasure, is merely a side-effect good in Knecht’s life, which immediately disqualifies it, for intentional goods have greater value. Secondly, much of the knowledge gained in Knecht’s life may be meaningless connections made for the perpetuation of a game, which do not correspond to reality, the self, or the relation between the two. Because of this, it is safe to assume that this is not the good we are looking for. Lastly, then, we have achievement. This good is surely something that Knecht managed to specialize in. This is evident simply in the fact that Knecht achieves a number of things throughout the novel and they fulfill Hurka’s definition of achievement.

We have therefore seen that Knecht fulfills Hurka’s criteria. If we assume that Hurka’s view is the correct view on the good life and Knecht does fulfill his criteria, then Knecht’s life is, indeed, a good life relative to its subject.

1. Game as Life and Life as Game

 

• An Overview of Suits

 

In The Grasshopper, Suits defends the thesis that a central property of life is the playing of games. But even more than this, Suits suggests that the good life is the life spent playing games. How, though, does he define a game? He offers four properties that are necessary to call something a game:

1. A prelusory goal,
   1. This can be understood as the aim to achieve a certain state of lusory affairs.
2. Lusory means,
   1. This can be understood as the accepted rules, by which one attempts to reach the prelusory goal.
3. Constitutive rules,
   1. These make it so that the player is unable to use more efficient means for reaching the goal; or, in other words, it makes the task of the game more difficult by eliminating efficient ways of winning (or achieving the game’s end).
4. Lusory attitude.
   1. This is the state of being that accepts the rules for the sake of the game.

With these four conditions, we have Suits’s definition of “game”:

Definition: x is a game only if and because x has a prelusory goal, lusory means to reach that goal, constitutive rules that restrict one from using efficient means to reach that goal, and a lusory attitude toward the activity.

 

• Knecht’s life is not a game

 

If it is the case that Knecht’s life is numerically identical to a game, as in Knecht’s life=a game, then his life must fulfill all of Suits’s criteria. I argue that Knecht’s life (and life in general) does not fulfill Suit’s criteria. Which implies that Knecht’s life (and life in general) is not numerically identical to a game. If it can be shown that he fails to fulfill one of the properties of games, then a simple modus tollens argument can show the negation of Knecht’s life being numerically identical with a game.

To begin, I do grant that the “life-game” may be able to fulfill the prelusory goal, lusory means criteria, and lusory attitude conditions. I will not attempt to define or explain how the latter two conditions might be fulfilled in any substantive way, though; later, I will offer some explanation of the first condition, for clarification. I argue that Knecht fails to fulfill the constitutive rules condition. Here is my argument in Standard Formulation, for lucidity in our discussion:

1. If Knecht’s life is numerically identical to a game, then there are some rules set in place that limit his efficiency in reaching his prelusory goal.
2. There are no rules set in place that limit his efficiency in reaching his prelusory goal.
3. /:. It is not the case that Knecht’s life is numerically identical to a game. (1,2,MT)

The argument is valid. Premise (1) is true, by definition; for if we grant Suits’s description of a game, then his third necessary condition must be fulfilled. Our conclusion also follows logically from the premises. The question, then, is whether or not (2) can be defended. If the premise does go through, then our conclusion will also be true.

Suits’s third condition is dependent on his first, in that the rules must make the goal more inefficient to reach. So, for example, if one’s game is to reach the top of a mountain, then some of the constitutive rules for the game could be to not fly to the top, take an escalator to the top, or teleport to the top. This adds the inefficiency of having to climb the mountain. What then, are some options for the prelusory goal of life? I will discuss the two that I find most intriguing:

1. The prelusory goal in life is to die well.

This option is enticing, since all humans die and the vast majority of humans want to die well. It can be argued further that much of living is done in order to achieve this end. Because of this, (1) is a possible candidate for the prelusory goal of the “life-game”.

1. The prelusory goal in life is to live well.

The second option is equally as enticing, for (perhaps aside from sociopaths, psychopaths, and self-destructive people) most humans desire to live well. This desire is manifested in vastly different, and often contradictory ways (ie. Hitler and Mother Teresa both desired to live well, but manifested these desires in drastically different ways). Even still, the base goal is often the same: to live well.

If (1) and (2) are our strongest candidates for life’s prelusory goal (which I assume to be the case, for an exhaustive list would require a paper of its own), what would be some constitutive rules that universally decrease the efficiency of achieving said goals?

All humans are born with certain limitations. Here are two of the most pertinent, which fall to two different problems:

1. Physical laws and natural laws,
2. Medical conditions, natural abilities, and social class.

(1) applies universally to all humans. Every person experiences the effects of gravity, the inability to experience the hottest of hots and the coldest of colds, and the inability to survive without certain nutritional necessities; moreover, the universality of physical and natural laws limits many things that persons could do in their absence. This universality is one possible benefit to physical laws being the constitutive rules of the life-game. There is a fatal flaw, however: physical laws do not limit a persons ability to reach the goals in question. Whether one can defy gravity holds little to no control over the efficiency to which one can either die well or live well. Because of this, (1) cannot be our constitutive rule.

(2) does decrease the efficiency in reaching the goal of the life-game. Medical conditions, natural abilities, and positioning of social class can all limit the ability to both die well and live well, to a certain degree. A problem arises, however, in the fact that they do not apply universally. One person may come into existence with critical medical conditions that inhibit their ability to live, while another does not (and the same holds true for natural abilities and social class). Constitutive rules apply universally (much like our mountain climbing case), which rules out (2) as a serious option.

We have, then, two possible prelusory goals for the life-game, each with two sets of possible constitutive rules. It has been shown that the rules do not fulfill Suits’s criteria. This defends the second premise of the argument, which allows the argument to go through. It is not the case, therefore, that Knecht’s life is not numerically identical to a game.

 

• Knecht’s life is a life of games

 

In the novel, Knecht certainly has a life of games. For one, he belongs to a society that has already set a prelusory goal, lusory means, and constitutive rules. Knecht is the variable that fulfills the final condition of having a lusory attitude. The bureaucratic structure of Castalia suggests that the prelusory goal is to contribute to the intellectual society (for Knecht, that is through the glass bead game). Moreover, Castalia has lusory means to reach this goal: the participation in their education system, and the escalation to greater, more prestigious schools, until one becomes part of the Order. Lastly, Castalia contains a number constitutive rules instituted through various hierarchicies, bureaucracies, and inefficient ways to reach the prelusory goal. Three of the conditions are fulfilled, then, by the society that Knecht lives in. The fourth condition is fulfilled by the individuals who resides in Castalia; they are the factor that perpetuates their life as a game. Knecht does decide to reside in Castalia with the lusory attitude that allows for the game to continue. Therefore, much of Knecht’s life is a life of games.

Of course, toward the end of the novel, Knecht departs from the Castalian society and aims to reconcile Castalian ideals with the outer-world. This part of Knecht’s life is not a game, for the same reason that Knecht’s life is not numerically identical to a game: he fails to fulfill Suits’s third criterion of constitutive rules. The argument runs quite similarly to the argument from the previous section:

1. If Knecht’s post-Castalian life is constituted by games, then there are some rules set in place that limit his efficiency in reaching his prelusory goal.
2. There are no rules set in place that limit his efficiency in reaching his prelusory goal.
3. /:. It is not the case that Knecht’s post-Castalian life is constituted by games. (1,2,MT)

Again, the argument is valid. And still further, (1) follows by Suits’s definition; (2) is justified by the same arguments provided in the past section; and (3) follows by modus tollens.

1.    Knecht’s life of games does add goodness to his life

It has been shown, thus far, that Knecht had periods of life consumed in game-playing. But the “goodness” of these periods depend on the conditions of Hurka’s view, which were discussed in depth earlier. If his life experiences a number of the goods and he minorly specializes in one, then he has lived a good life. The fact that Knecht has a life constituted primarily of games does not interfere with these goods being attained. In fact, two of the goods that he explicitly gains–pleasure and achievement–are achieved through his involvement with the Castalian game. His knowledge, as was shown, is primarily achieved outside of the game, for the Glass Bead Game does not necessarily produce true belief (let alone justified true belief concerning the self, the world, or the relation between the two), and thus does not necessarilly produce knowledge. Considering this, we have two goods added to Knecht’s life through game-playing and one good added to Knecht’s life outside of game-playing. It is quite clear, then, that his engagement with games did add to the goodness of his life.

1. Conclusion

It has been argued in this paper, through the philosophical views of Hurka and Suits, that the fictional life of Joseph Knecht is a good life relative to its subject. I showed this by first providing an account of Hurka’s conception of the good life, and an explanation of how Knecht fulfills his criteria. Next I demonstrated that Knecht’s life is not numerically identical to a game. This sub-conclusion was derived from discussion of Suits’s third necessary condition of game-playing. This led to the suggestion that his life was a life constituted by games. Consequently, these games added substantive goodness to Knecht’s life by providing an avenue for him to attain at least two of Hurka’s goods.

Works Cited

Hesse, Herman (1990). The Glass Bead Game. New York: Picador.

Hurka, Thomas (2011). The Best Things in Life: A Guide to What Really Matters. New York: Oxford UP.

Suits, Bernard (2005), The Grasshopper: Games, Life and Utopia, Broadview Press.

Where Hope and Faith Come Apart

I aim to assess an objection to Daniel Howard-Snyder’s conception of propositional faith. I summarize his paper, provide an objection, and show that the objection fails. I defend Howard-Snyder by drawing an important distinction between the two propositional attitudes, hope and faith.

I. A Summary

1. The View on Hand

In his account, Howard-Snyder states that propositional faith is a psychological attitude used in our language with the locution “S has faith that p”, where p stands in for any given proposition. In order for a propositional attitude to be faith, it must fulfill three criteria:

(1) One must have a positive evaluation of p.

(2) One must have a positive conative orientation toward p.

(3) One must have a positive cognitive stance toward p.

There are a number of ways to fulfill (1)-(3), so Howard-Snyder sketches the following chart:

A positive evaluation of p
A positive conative orientation toward p
A positive cognitive stance toward p

 

(1) can be fulfilled by “considering p’s truth to be good or desirable”; and (2) is fulfilled by caring that p is true. Two examples of this care are: (2a) “wanting p to be the case” and (2b) “wanting it to be the case that one wants p”. There are also many ways to fulfill the third condition. Here are a few:

(3a) Believing p,

(3b) Accepting p, or

(3c) Assuming p.

From these conditions, one can fill in Howard-Snyder’s chart like this:

 

A positive evaluation of p	Considering p’s truth to be good or desirable.
A positive conative orientation toward p	Either wanting p to be the case or wanting it to be the case that one wants p.
A positive cognitive stance toward p	Either (i) believing p, (ii) accepting p, or (iii) assuming p.

 

This, in essence, is his account of propositional faith. Faith is a complex propositional attitude consisting of three conditions. Each condition can be fulfilled in a number of ways.

2. Examples

Throughout Propositional Faith, Howard-Snyder calls on examples to demonstrate faith without the cognitive stance of belief or acceptance. However, the examples will be used differently in this paper; namely, to provide a number of examples of propositional faith. Here are a few:

A. Howard-Snyder has faith that he’ll successfully hike from Mexico to Canada.

It is not the case that Howard-Snyder believes or accepts his proposition (or its negation). Yet, the assumption that it is true pushes him forward. This example fulfills the three criteria above:

(1) Howard-Snyder considers a successful hike from Mexico to Canada to be desirable.

(2) He wants a successful hike to be the case.

(3) He assumes that he’ll successfully hike from Mexico to Canada.

 

B. Captain Morgan has faith that there is help ahead.

It is not the case that Captain Morgan believes there to be help ahead; yet he acts on the assumption that there is. Moreover, the other criteria are fulfilled:

(1) Captain Morgan considers that there is help ahead to be a good thing.

(2) He wants for there to be help ahead.

(3) He assumes that there is help ahead.

C. Eliotwright has faith that Christian theism is the case.

Eliotwright does not believe that Christian theism is the case, it is an assumption that he makes. Again, the example satisfies our criteria:

(1) Eliotwright considers Christian theism to be a good thing.

(2) He wants Christian theism to be the case.

(3) He assumes Christian theism to be the case.

These examples show that propositional faith does not require a strong cognitive stance toward p; something as weak as an assumption works for his view. All three of our cases fulfill (3) with an assuming cognitive stance. They do not work as examples of (3a) or (3b). Nonetheless, they will operate well for our purposes.

3. Resilience

There is a potential objection, however, which leads Howard-Snyder to establish the resilience condition. He states:

You satisfy faith’s demand for some measure of resilience and tenacity in the face of counter-evidence even though your cognitive stance is properly responsive to new counter-evidence. That’s one way the resilience faith requires can be instantiated, but it is not the only way; nor is it necessary. For the resilience of one’s faith can be manifested instead by one’s being disposed to behave in certain ways upon discovering new counter-evidence.

 

A common line of thought would suggest that one maintains the same cognitive stance toward p in order to still have faith, but Howard-Snyder does not grant this. When one has new counter-evidence put toward them (and they are epistemologically responsible), one will change one’s cognitive stance (ie. from strong belief to weak belief, weak belief to acceptance, acceptance to assumption, etc…). This form of resilience is not necessary, however. So, Howard-Snyder suggests another way of fulfilling the resilience condition; namely, that one continues behaving as if the proposition is true, in face of counter-evidence. So, he grants at least two sufficient ways of fulfilling the resilience condition:

(1) One’s cognitive stance adjusts to the counter-evidence, but still fulfills the third condition, or

(2) One continues behaving as if p is true, even though the counter-evidence suggests otherwise.

 

II. The Confusion Between Propositional Hope and Propositional Faith

1. The Problem

A possible reaction to Howard-Snyder’s account of faith is this: He is simply mistaking propositional hope for propositional faith. Hope and faith are not the same thing, yet on Howard-Snyder’s account, they operate identically. Here is a version of the argument in Standard Formulation:

Objection From Hope

(1) If Howard-Snyder is right, then hope=faith.

(2) If hope=faith, then S has faith that p if and only if S hopes that p.

(3) [/:.] If Howard-Snyder is right, then S has faith that p if and only if S hopes that p.

(4) It is not the case that S has faith that p if and only if S hopes that p.

(5) [/:.] It is not the case that hope=faith.

(3) /:. It is not the case that Howard-Snyder is right.

 

In section IV, I will be denying (3), showing that Howard-Snyder’s view does not imply the biconditional, and, consequently, does not imply the identity claim. But before this, it will be helpful to more fully understand the objection. It shows its intuitive strength primarily when applied to the examples.

2. The Problem Expanded

Propositional hope is a similarly complex propositional attitude to the attitude described by Howard-Snyder. It can be shown with the English locution “S hopes that p”. It is widely accepted that (i) it is not the case that, necessarily, if S hopes that p, then S has faith that p, and (ii) “S hopes that p” ≠ “S has faith that p”. In other words, one can hope that p without having faith that p, and hope is not equivalent to faith. It seems to follow from (i) and (ii) that one cannot swap “hope that” and “has faith that” for one another in any given sentence; more clearly, “hope that” and “has faith that” do not operate biconditionally.

Our problem arises, though, because in all of Howard-Snyder’s examples it seems to be possible to substitute “has faith that” for “hopes that”, and no meaning is lost. Observe:

A*. Howard-Snyder hopes that he’ll successfully hike from Mexico to Canada.

B*. Captain Morgan hopes that there is help ahead.

C*. Eliotwright hopes that Christian theism is the case.

Very well then, in A*–C*, “hopes that” functions similarly (maybe even identically) to “has faith that”, and (I presume) A*–C* retain the same truth value as before (true). Does the hope spoken of fulfill our criteria, though? It seems that, yes. Even still, A fourth example is helpful.

3. Propositional Hope and Fulfilling the Criteria

It will not do to find an example of propositional faith that both fulfills the criteria and can have “hope that” substituted in. This has already been shown above. What is needed here is an example of a real world statement of propositional hope fulfilling the three criteria (along with the resilience condition), then seeing if “has faith that” can be substituted in. We must find whether Howard-Snyder’s account implies that: “S has faith that p” if and only if “S hopes that p”. If such a case exists, the objector will have considerable evidence that Howard-Snyder confuses the attitudes. Here is such an example from my own life:

With no sign of stopping, the rain relentlessly falls outside. A group of elementary school kids sit at the window, chins resting in their hands. They long for a dry playground. Everyone has finished their homework, and have grown bored of the riddles given to them by their after-school counselor (Me). Still, one hour remains before their parents will be pulling in front of the care center to pick them up. Only one option remains to salvage their young spirits: dodgeball in the gym. There are problems, though. The classroom we’ve been assigned is across a bridge from every other group in the after-school program, and there is no way of telling whether the gym is being occupied by another group.

Ewen stands up, and in his characteristically sharp voice says, “Let’s go to the gym!”

I respond, “Good idea, Ewen. Let’s get a-movin’.”

Sophia, being too smart for her own good, looks at me, saying, “But Zach, we’ll have to walk all the way there only to have other groups be there! Then we’ll have to walk back in the rain! It’s a total waste of time.”

I think for a moment, consider the situation, “Well, I sure hope that the gym is open, cause we’re goin. Get your rain jackets, everyone!”

Ewen opens the door and we step outside to brave the rain.

Once across the bridge, we pass by a classroom, one that usually has a fellow group of after school children…. It is empty. Even still, we push on toward the gym, in hopes that it will be open.

 

Here, then, we have an example of propositional hope. It is best to set it up like the other three examples, for clarity:

D. Ewen and I hope that the gym is open.

It is not the case that we believe the gym to be open; we have no reason to think that it is and we have no reason to think that it is not. Yet we act on the assumption that it is. Even more, it seems that Howard-Snyder’s three criteria are satisfied:

(1) Ewen and I consider the gym being open to be a good thing.

(2) Ewen and I want it to be the case that the gym is open.

(3) Ewen and I assume that the gym is open.

Also, we show resilience in the face of a piece of counter-evidence to p. We see that a classroom is empty, and there are only a couple of other places that the group could be, other than the gym or their assigned room. So, the resilience condition is fulfilled in our continuation toward the gym.

The most important aspect of this example, though, is that one can successfully interchange “have faith that” with “hope that” and not lose meaning.

D*. Ewen and I have faith that the gym is open.

So, it appears that when we have propositional hope (i) we have a propositional attitude that (ii) satisfies Howard-Snyder’s three criteria for propositional faith and the resilience condition, and (iii) we can use “have faith that” interchangeably with it. This may be worrisome for Howard-Snyder.

III. I Hope That He’s Not Cheating

What we currently have is an argument that suggests that Howard-Snyder confuses propositional hope for propositional faith. Any potential response to this objection will have to go about it by denying that propositional hope and propositional faith are always interchangeable. To do this, one example needs to be given of either propositional hope or propositional faith that does not allow for the swap. Such an example would give us multiple insights into the nature of propositional hope.

1. The Example

Marylou has been married to Gus for 12 years. For the most part, their marriage has been smooth, undeterred by problems that are not the normal struggles of married life. However, of late, she has an itching suspicion that Gus has been having an affair. There are a number of reasons for this: Gus has been emotionally distant recently, he arrives home late from work almost every day, and he didn’t call on his last business trip with his colleague Anna.

She decides that she needs to confront him about her suspicions. But before doing this, Marylou has a long, emotional talk with her best friend. In the conversation, she explains why she thinks that she is right about Gus’s cheating. Her friend sits patiently, listening to Marylou’s position. Once Marylou has finished, her friend offers further evidence to believe that Gus is not faithful. She tells Marylou about a mysterious text-message she received the day before, saying, “I can’t meet tonight, my wife is expecting me home early”. With this new piece of evidence, Marylou comes to believe that Gus is cheating on her. However, as the conversation comes to a close, she utters the words, “I sure hope that he’s not cheating”.

 

2. Where Hope Comes Apart From Faith

There are multiple noteworthy features of the example provided. To begin, let us get the example more organized.

1. Marylou hopes that he is not cheating.

Let us apply Howard-Snyder’s criteria to the propositional attitude.

(1) Marylou considers his not cheating to be a good thing.

(2) Marylou wants it to be the case that he is not cheating.

(3) But, she does not believe, accept, or assume that he is not cheating.

Where does this leave us? Three notes:

(i) Right away, (3) goes unsatisfied. Marylou does not believe (or accept, or assume) that she is wrong, in fact, she’s quite convinced that she is right. This means that she holds a cognitive stance contradictory to our proposition, which is not allowed under Howard-Snyder’s conception.

(ii) Likewise, she fails to fulfill the resilience condition. If Marylou werefaced with counter-evidence to her belief that he is cheating (perhaps she hires a private investigator to double-check, and the investigator finds that he has not cheated…), then she would surely both (i) swap her cognitive stance and believe that he is not cheating, and (ii) her behavior would no longer reflect her belief that he is cheating. In other words, if Marylou is acting rationally, she would not be resilient in any way when faced with strong counter-evidence to her belief .

(iii) What’s more, we cannot substitute “has faith that” in the example. She certainly does not have faith that he is not cheating, she only hopes that he is not cheating. As Howard-Snyder points out, faith needs a positive cognitive stance (which is clear from the examples provided above, as well). Therefore, we see a dissonance between “hope that” and “has faith that” in the example.

IV. Conclusion

1. The Objection Fails

When the objection to Howard-Snyder was presented, I offered two seemingly, widely accepted claims: (i) it is not the case that, necessarily, if S hopes that p, then S has faith that p, and (ii) “S hopes that p” ≠ “S has faith that p”. The “I Hope That He’s Not Cheating” (HTNC) example shows this to be the case. The biconditional claim S hopes that p ↔ S has faith that p necessarily involves the two following claims:

(1) If S hopes that p, then S has faith that p.

(2) If S has faith that p, then S hopes that p.

HTNC has shown that (1) is false, for it demonstrates that one can have propositional hope without having propositional faith. Consequently, the biconditional fails. Even more, this supports (ii). Numerical equivalence implies the biconditional; but HTNC proves that the biconditional fails, so hopeis not numerically equivalent to faith. These conclusions confirm that the objection from hope has two bad premises, so its conclusion (that Howard-Snyder is wrong) does not go through.

2. Where to Go

As has been shown, the objection fails to establish that  hope and faith operate biconditionally in use. Moreover, I have established that Howard-Snyder’s account is compatible with (i) it is not the case that, necessarily, if S hopes that p, then S has faith that p, and (ii) S has faith that p ≠ S hopes that p.

What is notable about our current situation is this: hope appears to be a broader propositional attitude than faith. Two questions rise from this: (i) is this a mistaken appearance? If it is not mistaken, is this a common theme in propositional attitudes, or are hope and faith the exception? Obviously, these questions cannot be answered here, but it seems to be the natural follow up from the conclusions drawn.

 

Works Cited

Howard-Snyder, Daniel. “Propositional Faith: What It Is and What It Is Not,”American Philosophical Quarterly, 2013; reprinted in eds. Louis Pojman and Michael Rea, Philosophy of Religion: An Anthology (Cengage 2013, 6th edition), with an additional section entitled, “Reasons for the Common View”.

Tap-Dancers, Stabbings, and Causal Loops

I. Introduction

In his paper A Latin Trinity, Brian Leftow addresses two central problems with time-travel. First, he assesses a retro-suicide case and, secondly, a causal loop case. In this paper, I explain and evaluate his response to the causal loop case. I then show that his solution is not strong enough to warrant acceptance of the metaphysical possibility of time travel. My response to Leftow will not show time travel to be impossible, only that Leftow’s argument for its possibility is not a good one.

II. A Brief Summary of Leftow’s Paper

1. The Trinity

A Latin Trinity’s central aim is to provide a coherent account of the Christian conception of the Godhead, which is important to note, since it is not a paper concerned (primarily) with time-travel. Rather, Leftow intends to resolve the following objection:

(1) The Father is God.

(2) The Son is God.

(3) [/:.] The Father is the Son. (Symmetry & Transitivity)

(4) Some things are true of the Father, but not of the Son.

(5) [/:.] The Father is not the Son. (Leibniz’s Law)

(6) /:. The Father is the Son and the Father is not the Son. (3,4,Conj)

This line of thought leads to a contradiction, which supports the claim that the Trinity is an incoherent doctrine of Christianity. Any Christian-minded person wants avoid this conclusion, like Leftow.

In Leftow’s attempt to resolve the contradiction, he appeals to an analogy related to time-travel. He argues that the Trinity is something like this, but not this:

All the Rockettes but one, Jane, called in sick that morning. So Jane came to work with a time machine her nephew had put together for the school science fair. Jane ran on-stage to her position at the left of the chorus line, linked up, kicked her way through the number, then ran off. She changed her makeup, donned a wig, then stepped into her nephew’s Wells-o-matic, to emerge in the past, just before the Rockettes went on. She ran on-stage from a point just to the right of her first entry, stepped into line second from the chorus line’s left, smiled and whispered a quip to the woman on her right, kicked her way through the number, then ran off. She then changed her makeup again… Can one person thus be wholly in many places at once? The short answer is: she is in many places at the same point in our lives, but not the same point in hers. If Jane travels in time, distinct segments of her life coincide with the same segment of ours. To put this another way, Jane’s personal timeline intersects one point in ours repeatedly. (80)

 

Like the dancers in the example, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are “intersected” somehow; three instances of one substance (ousia).

2. Time-Travel

For the purposes of this paper, I will be assessing Leftow’s metaphysical defense of the possibility of time-travel. This is directly related to his paper, considering that he uses this argument by analogy for his conception of the Trinity. But, I only focus on his arguments regarding time-travel, not his overarching argument for a Latin Trinity.

Leftow focuses on what he calls “the strongest objections” to time-travel: retro-suicide and causal loops. He first summarizes both paradoxes, then offers reason to deny them as strong objections. For the remainder of the paper, I explain and evaluate his assessment of the causal loop case.

III. Jane and Causal Loops

1. The Problem

Staying with the Rockettes example, Leftow considers a case where the rightmost-Jane knifes the next-left-Jane. The knife wound does not kill next-left-Jane, but she makes sure she won’t be stabbed again. Before entering the time machine, next-left-Jane picks up a knife to defend herself with, just in case. Now taking the place of rightmost-Jane, she unsheathes her protective knife under the suspicion that the dancer to her left is going to attack. After one fast moment, the person to her left is stabbed. In stabbing the dancer, rightmost-Jane stabs next-left-Jane.

Leftow states the problem: “The puzzle is that globally, each event seems its own full explanation — since in tracing its ancestry, we find our way around the loop to the event itself — and that since nothing can explain its own occurring, it seems that globally, each event has no full explanation at all, despite having a local causal explanation”. The supposition, then, is that there is no global explanation of the event, yet there is a local causal explanation. In other words, Jane’s having the knife is a reaction to being stabbed by herself; but in trying to defend herself, Jane is the one that stabs herself.

First, let’s make doubly sure that this is a case of a causal loop. According to Ryan Wasserman, “a series of events, <e1, e2, e3… en>, is a causal loop =df (i) e1 is a cause of e2, which is a cause of e3, which is a cause of… en and (ii) en is a cause of e1”. It is clear from this definition that our story is a case of a causal loop: rightmost-Jane stabs next-left-Jane (e1), this causes her to have a predisposition to defend herself (e2), which causes her to pick up a knife (e3), which leads her to stab next-left-Jane (e1). So, (e1) causes (e2), which cause (e3), which causes (e1).

2. A Principle of Sufficient Reason

Leftow’s defense of the possibility of causal loops appeals to the common debate of principles of sufficient reason (PSR). Firstly, for sake of clarity, let us define what is meant by a principle of sufficient reason. In essence, PSR supposes that there is always an answer to “why” questions. No matter the strangeness of the scenario, there must be an explanation for its being the way it is. It can be defined like this:

PSR: Every thing and event must have a reason or cause.

This formulation of PSR is too general, though, which leads to its falsity. For example, under this PSR, a necessary being must have a cause, but necessary beings have no causes. A more robust PSR would not allow for such an objection. This leads us here:

PSR*: Every contingent thing and event must have a reason or cause.

Under PSR*, we avoid the objection, for only contingent things must have reason or cause; necessary things are not held to the principle.

3. Leftow’s Solution and PSR

Leftow claims that causal loops are “impossible only if some fairly strong PSR is a necessary truth. If one is, of course, one can run powerful arguments for the existence of God. So atheists, at least, might not wish to push this sort of objection.” He think theists shouldn’t push the objection, either, for with a PSR “strong enough to yield God, an explanation of the entire loop’s existence is available from outside the loop. It is that God brought it into existence: the reason Jane has a wound is that God brought this about, by conserving the entire loop”.

His response to the objection is two-fold. In order to suggest that causal loops are impossible would appeal to a strong PSR. Atheists would not want to appeal to such a strong PSR, for this would open up the possibility of strong arguments for God; theists, with a strong PSR, couldn’t rule them out either, for they could just attribute the existence of causal loops to God’s agency in the world. Leftow concludes, “I claim that an intuitively plausible PSR strong enough to rule loops out will rule God in. But with God ruled in, loops become compatible with the PSR after all”.

3. A Response to Leftow

A proper response to Leftow will do two things: (i) it will show that either atheists do not need a strong PSR to argue that causal loops deny the possibility of time travel or that a strong PSR would not rule in the possibility of God, and (ii) it will show that theists would need a better explanation than simply, “God made it so” to rule in causal loops. I intend to do both.

(i) Atheists do not need a strong PSR to rule out causal loops

PSR* states that every contingent thing and event has a cause or reason for existence. Leftow makes the claim that one must rely on such a principle to rule out causal loops; but relying on this principle would rule in strong arguments for God’s existence. So, atheists would not want to use PSR* to argue against the possibility of causal loops. His argument hinges on a hidden premise, though; namely, that the only way to deny the possibility of causal loops is with PSR*. I suggest that this premise is mistaken.

Before stating how I deny causal loops, it is important to understand how principles of sufficient reason are often denied. PSR* is a universal claim. Because of this, all that one needs to do is find a single example where the principle does not hold. Such an example is radioactive decay. If you have two atoms of 228-Th (in a chain of Thorium decay), then in 1.9 years one of the atoms will give off a proton(s) to become 224-Ra. By PSR*, there should be some reason for one of the atoms decaying and the other not. But, contemporary physics is telling us that no such reason exists; the decay is arbitrary. Therefore, there are at least some things that do not have reason or cause for their occurrence.

What does one say about causal loops, then? It is possible that causal loops are something like radioactive decay: they have no reason or cause for their occurrence. But this is not the case. Causal loops do not exist arbitrarily; they do not come about by cause-less means. Rather, the problem with causal loops is that the individual events in the loop bring about themselves. It is impossible for an event to be brought about by itself. So, causal loops are impossible. This version of the causal loop argument avoids the use of PSR* and still denies the possibility of causal loops.

And, thus, atheists can avoid embracing a strong PSR, causal loops, and time travel.

(ii) Theists need to rely on PSR, not God

The first objection of Leftow’s fails. One can have an argument against causal loops without relying on PSR*; thus, not ruling in strong PSR arguments for God’s existence. But, for the sake of discussion, let us suppose that one had to rely on PSR* to defeat the possibility of causal loops. PSR* would then rule in God, which would be an explanation for the possibility of causal loops. This line of thought fails, as well.

Though God is, by definition, omnipotent, there are still impossibilities for him. Firstly, God cannot create a round-square, for it is a contradiction, by definition. Secondly, God cannot override necessary truths, such as Leibniz’s Law, modus ponens, etc…, for they are necessary. Thirdly, God cannot make metaphysically impossible occurrences possible, for they are impossible. What is noteworthy, however, is that causal loops fall under the third limit on God’s power; they are (if one grants PSR*, or something of the like) a metaphysical impossibility. If God cannot make metaphysically impossible occurrences possible, and causal loops are metaphysically impossible, then God cannot make a causal loop possible. So, God cannot make a causal loop possible. From this, theists are able to deny the possibility of causal loops, retain the existence of God, and keep PSR*. In this way, Leftow’s second argument comes undone.

IV. Conclusion

The intention of this paper has been to show that Brian Leftow’s defense of causal loops is flawed. His argument has two sub-arguments, one directed toward atheists, the other directed toward theists. Both sub-arguments have been shown to fail. Leftow’s first argument fails, for it does not establish that PSR* is the only tool to deny the possibility of causal loops; his second argument fails, for God is unable to uphold metaphysical impossibilities. Their failure is not only worrisome for the possibility of time travel, but for Leftow’s larger project of establishing a coherent account of the Trinity.

 

Works Cited

Leftow, Brian. “A Latin Trinity.” Oxford Readings in Philosophical Theology. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2009. N. pag. Print.

Melamed, Yitzhak and Lin, Martin, “Principle of Sufficient Reason”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2014 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2014/entries/sufficient-reason/&gt;.

 

Wasserman, Ryan. The Paradoxes of Time Travel. Forthcoming.

On Dependency and Abortion

I. Introduction

This paper deals with Boonin’s development of Thomson’s argument for the permissibility of abortion. Firstly, I lay out the central argument that Thomson is responding to; next, I explain Boonin’s development of Thomson’s idea; lastly, I offer an evaluation of Boonin’s developed analogy. In this evaluation, I demonstrate that there is a serious disanalogy between the (edited) Violinist Case and the abortion cases.

II. The Rights-Based Argument and The Good-Samaritan Argument

1. The Rights-Based Argument

It is best to think of the debate on abortion as a long conversation between two opposing sides. The “pro-” side offers an argument, the “con-” side responds, the “pro-” side offers a defense, and and the “con-” side responds again…. This makes it difficult to know where, exactly, to begin a paper on abortion. One way to do it would be to offer the view that I will be responding to and ignore the back story. I do not wish to do that. The back story is important and relevant.

Boonin piggy-backs on Thomson’s famous argument from her article A Defense of Abortion. Thomson is responding to a possible argument for the impermissibility of abortion. The most reasonable place to begin, then, is with this argument. Boonin provides the argument in Standard Formulation in his book:

The Rights-Based Argument

(1) The fetus is a person.

(2) Every person has a right to life.

(C1) [/:.] The fetus has a right to life.

(3) The woman has a right to control her body.

(4) The right to life outweighs the right to control one’s body.

(5) Abortion kills the fetus.

(C2) /:. Abortion is morally impermissible.

Clearly, we have a logically valid argument before us. Any response must be an attack on its soundness. Premises (2), (3), and (5) are widely accepted, uncontroversial claims. And, moreover, (C1) and (C2) are logically implied. This leaves (1) and (4) for possible criticism.

2. The Good-Samaritan Argument
A natural response would be to deny (1) and establish that the fetus is not, in fact, a person. Thomson, however, sees this move as unnecessary. Even, she claims, when spotting the rights-based person premise (1), the argument fails. Thomson develops her argument by presenting a scenario. Here it is:

The Violinist Case (VC)

You wake up in the morning and find yourself in bed with a famous unconscious violinist. He has a fatal kidney ailment, and the Society of Music Lovers has found that you alone have the right blood type to help. They have therefore kidnapped you, and the violinist’s circulatory system was plugged into yours, so your kidneys can be used to extract poisons from his blood. The director of the hospital tells you, “Look, we’re sorry the Society of Music Lovers did this to you–we would never have permitted it if we had known. But still, they did it, and the violinist now is plugged into you. To unplug you would be to kill him. But it’s only for nine months. By then he will have recovered from his ailment, and can safely be unplugged from you.”

VC provides us with a case in which a person is asked to sacrifice the right to their body to preserve another’s right to life. Since premise (5) suggests that the right to life outweighs the right to control one’s body, it follows that the patient must stay connected to the violinist. Our intuition, however, contradicts this. It seems to tell us that the patient is within her right to unplug herself from the violinist. Here is the line of thought more clearly:

Argument from the Violinist (AV)

(1) If the right to life outweighs the right to control one’s body, then the patient is obligated to remain attached to the violinist.

(2) It is not the case that the patient is obligated to remain attached to the violinist.

(3) /:. It is not the case that the right to life outweighs the right to control one’s body.

Thomson disagrees with this argument. Boonin reiterates her line of thought, “[t]he lesson of the story… is not that it is sometimes permissible for you to violate the violinist’s right to life, but rather that the violinists right to life does not include or entail the right to be provided with the use or the continued use of whatever is needed in order for him to go on living”. The right to life, then, trumps the right to control one’s body; however, the right to life also excludes rights that involve the continued supply of things necessary for one to continue living. Thomson, then, would deny premise (1) from AV. It is not the case that the patient is obligated to remain attached to the violinist if the right to life outweighs the right to control one’s body. It simply is not what the antecedent entails.

A noteworthy thing to mention is that Thomson is not claiming (4) is false. Rather, she is arguing that the conclusion does not follow from the premises. Yet again, Boonin clarifies: “[(6)]: If abortion kills the fetus, then abortion violates the fetus’s right to life…. This is the premise that the good samaritan argument is designed to attack.” Boonin supplies us with a hidden premise, one that brings out the line of thought that Thomson is trying to deny.

Applying Thomson’s analogy to an unwanted pregnancy, one can see that the fetus is something like the patient and the mother is something like the donor in the Violinist Case. Just as it is permissible to unplug one’s self from the violinist, it is also permissible to “unplug” one’s self from the baby. As was said before, this is permissible because the right to life does not include rights that provide the individual with supplies necessary for survival.

III. The Tacit Consent Objection

1. The Objection

A popular objection to Thomson’s argument for the permissibility of abortion is to argue that her argument from analogy fails: Abortion is simply not dealing with the same morally relevant scenario as the case with the violinist. Such an objector points toward a specific disanalogy between the Violinist Case and abortion cases. Namely, in the Violinist Case, the person is kidnapped and forcefully attached to the violinist. They find themselves hooked up to a person and never had the initial choice to help or not help the unhealthy person. The only case of someone being impregnated against their will are cases involving rape. Therefore, the Violinist Case only applies to instances of non-consensual pregnancies. The disanalogy certainly shows intuitive strength.

2. Boonin’s Response

Boonin is not satisfied with the argument from disanalogy. Though he offers a number replies to this objection, the most noteworthy move he makes is to argue that the Violinist Case does not necessitate the donor being kidnapped and forcefully hooked up to the violinist. Instead, the analogy can be edited to expand to cases involving consensual sex. Consider a case where a person, S, decides she would like to give a bone marrow transplant to the violinist. The procedure takes nine months, including a series of painful injections. S arrives at the hospital, ready to begin the long, strenuous procedure. She is hooked up to the violinist (voluntarily), and the first round of marrow treatment is issued. After a few weeks, S realizes that she cannot follow through on her initial decision. The transplanting of the marrow is too painful and intense for her, and she can’t stand the idea that it will only get more painful, coming to a climax at nine months. She decides that she wants to be unhooked from the violinist. Here we have a case of voluntary donation, and the person backs out. This updated analogy still seems to hold for Thomson’s argument, then, and for the same reasons.

IV. A Further Disanalogy

We have before us an expanded, strengthened version of the Violinist Case. However, even with Boonin’s improvements to the case, I am wary of relying too heavily on it, for there lies a further disanalogy. The disanalogy centers on the idea of dependency and the role of dependency in the two cases before us (abortion cases and the Violinist Case). Let us consider two further cases, designed to bring out the nature of dependency.

1. First Case of Dependency (1CD)

Tom and Joe are backpacking. They have a good amount of experience with camping; both did boy scouts throughout childhood, Tom partook in a NOLS course, and Joe is very familiar with the area. Five days into their trip, they decide to take a 20-mile shortcut, through the thick of the forest. During this shortcut, Tom stumbles off of an 18-foot cliff, breaking both legs and falling unconscious.

Joe climbs down and assesses the situation. There is a stream nearby, edible plants are plentiful, and there is a good area to make a survival shelter. He decides there are two options: (1) he can leave Tom to make his way back to society, guaranteeing that Tom would die, or (2) he can stay with Tom, until he makes enough of a recovery to make it back to society, guaranteeing both they will survive.

Intuition tells us Joe should stay with Tom and ensure his survival, rather than leave him, securing his death.

2. Second Case of Dependency (2CD)

Tom, Joe, Sam, Chris, and August are backpacking. They have a good amount of experience with camping. Five days into their trip, they decide to take a 20-mile shortcut, through the thick of the forest. During this shortcut, Tom stumbles off of an 18-foot cliff, breaking both legs and falling unconscious.

The four others climb down and assess the situation. There is a stream nearby, edible plants are plentiful, and there is a good area to make a survival shelter. Joe decides that he has two options: (1) he can leave the three others to help Tom and return to his trip, knowing that the likelihood of his survival will decrease by 5% (if only he leaves), or (2) he can stay with the three others to help Tom recover, and get him to safety.

In this case, it seems permissible for Joe to leave Tom and the others. 1CD and 2CD suggest the following principle:

Principle of Dependency (PD): The fewer number of entities that one depends on for sustained life, the more morally relevant it is for the entities to fulfill the dependency; the higher the number of entities that one depends on for sustained life, the less morally relevant it is for a single entity to fulfill the dependency.

3. Abortion, The Violinist, and the Principle of Dependency

In the case of pregnancy, there is one subject depending on a second subject for life; namely, the fetus depending solely on the mother for life. The Violinist Case is not similar in this way. In fact, there are at least four entities that the violinist relies on:

(1) The medical machinery and technology,

(2) The doctor’s knowledge,

(3) The insurance company that provides funding for the treatment, and

(4) The marrow donor.

The abortion case is analogous to 1CD; the Violinist Case is analogous to 2CD. However, by PD, the Violinist Case is disanalogous to abortion, for it is postulating a scenario involving more entities than abortion cases. Though it may be permissible for the donor to unhook himself, it does not follow that it is permissible for the mother to abort the baby, for (1) the patient is dependent of multiple entities and (2) the baby is only dependent on the mother, while in the womb.

V. Conclusion

It has been argued by disanalogy that the Violinist Case unsuccessfully displays a case similar to pregnancy. By failing to show this, it also fails to show that abortion is permissible. I have neither endorsed the claim that abortion is permissible, nor the claim that abortion is impermissible; I merely assert that Violinist Case is not the right approach to establishing its moral acceptability.

 

Works Cited

Boonin, David. A Defense of Abortion. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge UP, 2003. Print.

Thomson, Judith. “A Defense of Abortion”, Philosophy and Public Affairs, Vol. 1, No. 1. (Autumn, 1971), pp. 47-66.

Warren, Mary Anne. “On the Moral and Legal Status of Abortion”. Online. (pg. 2). <http://www.amber-hinds.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/warren-moralandlegalstatusofabortion.pdf&gt;

On Nonsense

1. A (Brief) Introduction

In this essay, I will present arguments for both Frege’s Theory of Meaninglessness (FTM) and Wittgenstein’s Theory of Nonsense (WTN). I will evaluate these arguments, showing that WTN is the favorable theory for nonsense in general language, also giving a Wittgensteinian argument against FTM as a theory for meaninglessness in general language. Following this, I will demonstrate that FTM is appropriate in certain contexts, namely scientific contexts (or any context in which describing the world is the function of the language) and is compatible with a sub-thesis of WTN, although WTN remains the favorable theory for the general use of language, given its explanatory power.

II. Frege’s Theory of Meaninglessness

It is appropriate to start this essay by first giving a brief account of Frege’s general theory of language, before moving to his theory of meaninglessness. It is important to note that Frege was responding to a popular philosophic position; namely, Millianism. Millianism’s central tenet holds that proper names “tag” their referent; or, in other words, a name’s meaning is what it refers to. If Millianism is true, though, it has serious trouble when one referent has two names which are not interchangeable in a sentence. He sought to offer a theory that avoided Millianism’s downfall.

Beginning his inquiry, Frege presented to us a famous dilemma: either Hesperus and Phosphorus are different planets, or we can refer to the same planet (Venus) with two different names. It is obvious, though, that Hesperus and Phosphorus are the same planet. Thus, we can refer to the same planet with at least two different names. Using this example, Frege established that there are two fundamental elements to names: their referent and their sense. Two statements about one referent have different senses. So, for the “Hesperus is Phosphorus” example, we derive this:

“Hesperus is Phosphorus”

(1) Referent: the same (Venus)

(2) Hesperus’s sense: the brightest star in the morning sky

(3) Phosphorus’s sense: the brightest star in the evening sky

Thus, we have one referent with two senses, and are able to see Frege’s primary conclusion: every meaningful name and sentence has one referent and multiple senses.

From his general theory, what can we make of Frege’s Theory of Meaninglessness? It is best explained by example, with a statement of his formulated theory following. Frege observes this sentence: “Odysseus was set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep”. Is this statement true? Or is it false? Frege argues that it is neither; rather, the sentence is meaningless (perhaps more accurately, referent-less).

“Odysseus was set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep”cvjj

(1) Referent: None (Odysseus is fictional)

(2) Sense: a person who is set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep

As can be seen, there is no referent, as Odysseus is fictional, thus the sentence is meaningless. We have, now, an understanding of FTM; let us see it in definite terms:

FTM: x is meaningless iff&b x does not have a referent.

A quick note is appropriate before moving to Wittgenstein’s theory. The title of this paper is “On Nonsense”. Why is it, then, that I have defined Frege’s theory on meaninglessness? This is primarily due to Frege’s theory itself. Given that he defines “sense” in a specific way, it would be insufficient to call his theory “Frege’s Theory of Nonsense”, such a title would refer to “sense” in the wrong way. Wittgenstein is using “nonsense” in a synonymous way with “meaninglessness”; the context of Frege’s theory does not allow for this synonymous use.

III. Wittgenstein’s Theory of Nonsense

In his posthumously published Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein offers his general theory of language. This contrasted heavily with his earlier work Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, which solidified the language theory of the logical positivists and argued that the role of language is to align our pictures of reality with the facts of the world.

A picture of reality is either true or false: Early and Late Wittgenstein both agreed on this point. Late Wittgenstein noted, though, that if a picture of reality is either true or false, then the statement <five slabs> is either true or false. This is the dividing point between Early and Late Wittgenstein: Late Wittgenstein denied that the statement <five slabs> is true or false; rather, he noted that it had functional value. In a famous example, he notes that two construction workers (one a builder and the other a sort of aid to the builder) are using slabs to build a structure. The builder orders the aid by saying, “five slabs!”. After the aid brings five slabs back, he hands them to the builder reporting “five slabs”. The statement <five slabs>, then, has at least two operative roles (probably more; ie. question, etc…): a command and a report. Operative roles do not have truth values, and thus they are not true or false. Wittgenstein’s shift in opinion lies in his stress on meaning as use.

Wittgenstein moves from this point to describe language as a sort of game where meaning derives itself from its use, while context sets the rules of its use. Because context sets the rules, language can take infinite amount of forms, as there are an infinite amount of contexts (hypothetically, that is). So, Late Wittgenstein noted that statements have multiple meanings, depending on when, where, why, and how they are uttered. <five slabs> can mean any of these things: a command, a question, a report/statement, etc…. In fact, Wittgenstein suggested that there are an infinite amount of uses for a given statement.

What, then, is nonsense? He expresses WTN in two short sentences:

“When a sentence is called senseless, it is not as it were its sense that is senseless. But a combination of words is being excluded from the language, withdrawn from circulation”

A statement of his theory can be derived thusly:

WTN: x is nonsense iff&b x is being excluded from the language.

It will be helpful, now, to take note of an example. Consider a baby who, when acknowledged by her parents’ friend says, “Goo-goo. Ga-ga”. What sense is derived from this? None. It is a failed attempt to engage in a language-game with an adult. It is not to say, though, that the actual statements <goo-goo> and <ga-ga> are nonsense; rather, they are rejected from the language-game in the context of the example. As the definition suggests, the statements are excluded from the language; their exclusion is what makes them nonsense.

A further example will make the exclusion of the statements in the “baby-context” more clear. Consider a group of adults playing charades, or something of the like. One adult receives a card, stands up, and says, “Goo-goo. Ga-ga”. Now, even as a reader of this paper, what did the adult’s card instruct her to imitate? Clearly, a baby. There is a sense, then, in the statements <goo-goo> and <ga-ga>. It simply depends on the context in which they are uttered. If it is senseful, it is appropriate; if it is nonsense, it is inappropriate.

IV. WTN is the Favorable Theory

With firm grasps of WTN and FTM, we may now turn to an evaluation of the explanatory strength of WTN and FTM. I take, as an assumption, that if a theory of nonsense is to be sufficient, it must be able to explain

1. how the language is used, and
2. how it should not be used.

Note that I use is for (1) and should not for (2). By “how language is used”, I mean, it should give a descriptive account of how we use language; by “how it should not be used”, I mean, it should give an account of what is nonsense. I do not count “how language should be used” as the criteria for (1), because a theory of language is a descriptive account of language, not a prescriptive account. To offer a prescriptive account does not help in the understanding of what language is.

I will argue in this section that Wittgenstein fulfills (1) and (2), but Frege only fulfills (2); and, thus, WTN is the favorable theory. Let us begin with Wittgenstein.

Wittgenstein, as stated above, suggests two main theses:

1’. Language derives its meaning from its use, and

2’. x is nonsense iff&b x is excluded from the language.

He fulfills the first criterion by describing how it is that language is used, and fulfills the second by suggesting how it should not be used, given the first criterion. Frege’s account is not so neat. He offers two primary conclusions, the first of which is an attempt at fulfilling (1), but he fails to fulfill it:

1’’. Meaningful statements have two elements: a referent and a sense(s), and

2’’. x is meaningless iff&b x does not have a referent.

How, though, does (1’’) insufficiently fulfill the first criteria? The answer is simple: there are plenty of normal, everyday sentences, that are used regularly, and, yet, fail to meet Frege’s (1’’). Here are two obvious ones:

1. “Harry Potter has a scar”,
2. “Rivendell is beautiful”.

Now, these sentences are used often, they seem to make sense to people, and seem meaningful, yet they do not have a referent. If this is the case, then Frege is not fulfilling (1), since he is inaccurately describing the nature of our language.

Some may reply to my treatment of Frege by pointing out that he was aiming toward a perfect language; we should be striving toward truth and falsity, not meaninglessness. My reply to this is simple: the statements above are not meaningless; they may not refer to a real object, yet we understand, use, and often enjoy such statements.

Even more, if we ignore my initial response, Frege is still not fulfilling the first criterion, for he is offering a “should” claim, rather than an “is” claim. One cannot offer a theory of meaninglessness from a “should” claim, it must come from a descriptive claim about the language. It seems impossible to define meaninglessness from a pre-observational standpoint, for meaninglessness is observable, one can hear when someone utters a meaningless sentence. And from the observation of its use, one can see that fiction is not meaningless. Thus, Frege does not fulfill (1).

V. FTM Defended in Scientific Contexts

We have seen that Frege’s theory fails as a general theory of nonsense, while Wittgenstein’s does not, in relation to explanatory power. I would like to now examine whether Frege’s theory is applicable in any realm of language use. I will argue that Frege’s theory is applicable in a certain context; namely, his theory is most useful in science, and does not conflict with WTN in such a context. Let us consider WTN again:

WTN: x is nonsense iff&b x is being excluded from the language.

And even more, let us consider a further thesis; Wittgenstein’s Theory of Nonsense applied in Science:

WTNS: x is nonsense in science iff&b x is being excluded from the scientific language-game.

I will argue that FTM is compatible with WTNS. Science is concerned with physical things. Physical things must be based, generally, in facts: as when I look at my desk, I note that it is a “fact” that my computer is on it, and that my desk and computer are “physical” things. From this, it follows that every physical thing is also referenceable, for one can point and say, “X”. Science is, in essence, to point and make observations regarding real and referenceable things. If this is the role of science, then it must be the case that statements about non-referenceable things are of no use or meaning, since they are not observational. Frege’s theory is not concerned with statements about non-referenceable things; and thus, they are useless and meaningless to his theory. If they are useless and meaningless to his theory, then it is clear that FTM can operate in the scope of science. Here is the argument in Standard Form, for clarity:

Argument For the Compatibility of FTM and the Scientific Context

1. Science is concerned with referenceable things.
2. If (1), then anything not referenceable is meaningless in a scientific context.
3. (/:.) Anything not referenceable is meaningless in a scientific context. (1,2,MP)
4. FTM states that all meaningful things are referenceable and all meaningless things are not referenceable.
5. (3) and (4). (3,4,Conj)
6. If (5), then both FTM and science are concerned with referenceable things.
7. (/:.) FTM and science are concerned with referenceable things. (5,6,MP)
8. If (7), then FTM is compatible with a scientific context.

1. /:. FTM is compatible with a scientific context. (7,8,MP)

Even further, it can be noted that the conclusion of this argument is compatible with WTNS, for the conclusion is drawn, in essence, from premises stating that non-referenceable things are meaningless/nonsense to both FTM and science. If this is the case, then WTNS is also applicable, for it is concerned with how scientific statements are used. No valid scientific statements say that, “The Earth is flat”. Such statements have been cast out from the scientific language. They are nonsense, now. And, so, WTNS and FTM (in a scientific context) are compatible. Though WTN, as a general theory of language, is at odds with FTM in other contexts (ie. any non-scientific context, which is a great majority of contexts).

VI. Conclusion

I have sufficiently shown that FTM and WTNS are compatible in the scientific context, while WTN remains the favorable theory for general language use. I demonstrated this conclusion by first giving an account of both theses, summarizing their main tenets and suppositions. Moving forward, I showed that WTN is the favorable theory, for it has more explanatory power than FTM. FTM has explanatory use in science, though. And for this reason, it must not be ignored.

On David Lewis and Penal Substitution

I. Introduction

David Lewis’s famous essay Do We Believe in Penal Substitution offers insights into the Christian Theory of Penal Substitution (STPS) and Secular views of penal substitution, of which, there are multiple versions. Lewis defends the thesis that Christians are of two minds in relation to penal substitution, however, every person, Christian or non-Christian, is of two minds in relation to penal substitution; thus, non-Christians should not rebuke Christians for their two mindedness.

I will begin this paper summarizing primary tenets, definitions, and arguments that Lewis provides. Following this summary, I will evaluate Lewis’s responses to a specific argument against penal substitution, concluding that it does not sufficiently counter it. I will argue that the theory of penal substitution is not a viable theory and another theory should be adopted.

II. Preliminary Summary of Lewis

David Lewis begins his paper with a scenario designed to appeal to one’s intuition. Suppose that a criminal has been justly sentenced to be punished. In the courtroom, while the sentencing is occurring, an innocent friend of the criminal stands up and declares, “I will take the punishment for my friend.” The judge, considering the situation, has two options: either (i) allow the innocent friend to serve the criminal’s sentence, or else (ii) do not allow the innocent friend to serve the criminal’s sentence. It appears, intuitively, that (ii) is the more just option.

The fact that (ii) appeals to our intuition gives rise to an important question: What should we consider as the function of criminal punishment? Lewis addresses this question with six possible answers; they are:

(i) it is the paying back of a moral debt,

(ii) it is better for the wicked not to prosper,

(iii) it is an expression of society’s hatred of the wicked’s actions,

(iv) it is a means to reforming the character’s of the wicked,

(v) it is a way to deprive the wicked of their resources, or

(vi) it is a compensatory function.

It is clear that (i)-(v) do not allow for the substitution of an innocent friend to satisfy the function of punishment. (vi), however, does. Lewis, then, narrows his focus on the compensatory function of punishment (CFP). Here is his definition:

CFP: x is compensatory iff&b x provides a benefit to the victim of a crime.

It follows that an innocent substitute could serve the sentence instead of the guilty party, so long as it provides a benefit to the victim. There are a number of problems with CFP; two in particular are:

(i) A murderer’s victim cannot be compensated, as they are no longer alive, and

(ii) An innocent friend is not sufficient compensation to a given victim.

Lewis notes, then, that it seems that no reason exists for believing in penal substitution, given that penal substitution is defined as

Penal Substitution: a is an act of penal substitution iff&b in performing a, an innocent substitute is punished to repay the moral debt of a guilty person, rather than the guilty person repaying the moral debt.

There are many people who do believe in penal substitution, though; specifically, many Christians. According to a specific theory of the Doctrine of the Atonement (The Theory of Penal Substitution), (i) humans are guilty of sinning and have a “moral debt” to God, (ii) Christ served as an innocent substitute to pay the moral debt, and (iii) God recognizes Christ’s substitution as a valid payment. Thus, Christ is a valid penal substitute for our sins.

Even given the theory, outside of the context of theology, Christians still tend to deny penal substitution as a sufficient way to deal with crime. Lewis argues from this point to conclude that Christians are of two minds. They both believe in penal substitution and do not believe in penal substitution. Lewis, rightly so, thinks of this as a bad state to be in.

Lewis then discusses a second problem for the Atonement, of which I will primarily focus on in this paper. Here it is in Standard Form:

The Insufficient Payment Argument Against the Theory of Atonement (IPTA)

(1) Though death by crucifixion is a terrible occurrence, one soul suffering eternal damnation is an even more terrible occurrence.

(2) If (1), then Christ did not “pay the debt” for even one sinner by dying on the cross.

(3) /:. Christ did not “pay the debt” for even one sinner by dying on the cross.

The punishment we face for our wrongdoings is eternal punishment. Christ did not endure eternal punishment (which is far worse than crucifixion). So, he did not pay our debt. Lewis offers two replies to this argument:

(i) A denial of premise (1): Christ had to bear the sins of every human and be forsaken by God, so he was not only crucified.

And,

(ii) A denial of premise (2): Christ paid enough of the debt to save the sinners; an equation can show the denial’s strength: [death by crucifixion+the bearing of our sins+being forsaken by God]=a finite amount of damnation that is enough to forgive our wrongs.

Lewis suggests that these denials are sufficient to discount the IPTA argument. He then states that, in fact, all people (Christian and non-Christian) are of two minds about penal substitution, concluding that non-Christians should be tolerable of the Christian two mindedness, for they also are two minded. I, however, will focus on his denial of the IPTA argument.

III. Refutation of David Lewis

In this section, I will argue that Lewis did not sufficiently respond to the IPTA argument. From this argument, I will conclude that either (a) The Christian Theory of Penal Substitution is false and there is some alternative view, or (b) Christians must offer a sound response to IPTA. I will suggest that (a) is the preferable position to hold.

A. Response to the Denial of Premise (1)

What does “to bear the sins of x” entail? Let us say that I have sinned against my younger sister, seeing that I owe a moral debt to her, and failure to pay the debt will result in punishment, my older sister “bears my sin”, so as to reconcile my sibling relationship; what would that look like? I take at least two options for what it would entail:

(i’) She experiences the emotional response to the realization that I have sinned; ie. felt my guilt of wronging my sister.

Or,

(i’’) She experienced the literal transfer of my sin on to her “being”.

So, (i’) would entail an empathetic response; (i’’) would entail an incredibly strange metaphysical and moral “swap” of sin. Both options are clearly absurd, though. Empathy has no agency, it is only a personal response to another’s situation; an empathetic psychological state does not lead one to the “bearing” of the state of another person (ie. If one person empathizes with a starving person, they do not experience or bear the weight of starvation). (i’’) is even more absurd, though. Moral wrongdoing cannot be transferred to another person. I take it, then, that (i) is false, and premise (1) of IPTA still stands.

B.  Response to the Denial of Premise (2)

The second denial of Lewis appeals to an equation. Dealing with punishment of infinite proportion is tricky, so perhaps it would be easier to see an example of what Lewis is arguing. Consider a burglar case:

A burglar has just been convicted. An innocent bystander stands up and states, “I will serve the sentence for him. However, I will only serve the sentence until it has been sufficiently paid off! If the sentence is for 10 years and the victim feels the moral debt has been paid after five years, then I would like to be released after five years.”

The case, then, shows that, so long as the moral debt is sufficiently paid, full payment is not necessary. But this seems strange to say. It is trivializing the punishment. If we should suffer eternal damnation for our wrongdoings, no finite amount of suffering from one man will suffice for its payment. The proportions are simply incomparable.

What’s more, the second objection of Lewis appeals to the first objection, which has been shown to be flawed. Thus, it can be concluded that Lewis’s response to the IPTA argument is not sufficient. We cannot ignore the argument.

C. A Way Forward

Thus far, it has been shown that the IPTA argument still stands; penal substitutionists do not sufficiently respond to it. I see two directions forward:

(i) Do away with penal substitution as a theory of Atonement and look for alternative theories,

or

(ii) Offer other responses to the IPTA argument that do sufficiently respond to it.

I, myself, cannot see (ii) as feasible; the theory of penal substitution is riddled with flaws (many of which haven’t been presented in this paper). If (ii) is most likely not feasible, then we must do away with penal substitution as a theory of Atonement and look for alternative theories. I will not offer any substantive analysis of the other options, but they do exist. Namely, those of Eleonore Stump and Richard Swinburne, to name two.

IV. Conclusion

I have argued that David Lewis’s treatment of IPTA is insufficient in its refutation. The two responses, when looked at closely, do not hold weight. Because of this, IPTA still stands as a good argument against penal substitution, which leads us to only one option: do away with the theory of penal substitution and adopt another theory.

Wilt Chamberlain Argument Defeated by Game Theory

Robert Nozick’s “Wilt Chamberlain argument” assesses the problems in the study of justice by denying all patterned theories of justice. He argues, namely, that all patterned theories of justice fail to uphold the liberties of the individual by way of limiting the exchange of goods and services for the aim of the proper distribution of rights. If this is true, and the individual’s liberties are being violated by patterned theories of justice, then patterned theories of justice are flawed. Thus, one is left with unpatterned theories of justice: the very sort of theory that Nozick intends to argue toward.

I will show that Nozick is incorrect in his conclusion, by means of further discussion of the Wilt Chamberlain example, in light of game theory and Rawls’ “veil of ignorance”. To do this, a brief introduction to game theory and the veil of ignorance is necessary, followed by an explanation of Nozick’s argument against patterned theories of justice. I will demonstrate that, given the two techniques of game theory and the veil of ignorance, the Wilt Chamberlain case falls apart. For, if individuals were acting rationally, one would be able to see, through reason, that the overinvestment in an individual, product, business, etc… leads to inequalities; and, given that individuals would project these inequalities through reason, they would limit their investment in said individuals, products, businesses, etc… to the point that inequalities would not occur. Though this idea appears convoluted and vague, it can be simply put that I intend to show that the people in the Wilt Chamberlain case are not acting rationally, nor in their own self-interest. Thus, the argument does not show distributional patterned theories of justice to be false.

Game Theory and The Veil of Ignorance

In this essay, I intend to use the tools of game theory and Rawls’ veil of ignorance in order to dismantle the Wilt Chamberlain argument. Before the full refutation can be presented, though, it is necessary to gather what is meant by these two ideas. First, game theory is a technique in theorizing potential outcomes; moreover, it assumes that people act in their own rational self-interest when making decisions. Secondly, the veil of ignorance is of central use in John Rawls’ theory regarding justice. In essence, while behind the imaginary veil, one discards all morally irrelevant features (ethnicity, sex, etc…) and acts in one’s self-interest. The consequences from this are simple: one is able to act in the interest of the group. For when one is behind the veil, one could be anybody; and if one could be anybody, while acting in one’s self-interest, one is acting in the interest of everybody. With these ideas now firmly understood, we may move toward the argument against Nozick.

The Wilt Chamberlain Case

The Wilt Chamberlain argument begins in assuming that a given society lives by a patterned theory of justice–more specifically, a theory that is patterned by the principle of egalitarianism. In this egalitarian society, Wilt Chamberlain bargains with his basketball team’s owners to receive 25¢ from every ticket purchased for a game. If one assumes that one million people attend the games throughout the season, then Wilt Chamberlain is $250,000 dollars richer, while the all others are 25¢ poorer. If, though, this were the case in such a society, it would be unjust; and thus, it would not be allowed. Its injustice would be founded on the principle that the worst off in a society are not better off in this scenario (the difference principle).

However, if the egalitarian society limits people in their ability to exchange goods and services, then their rights and liberties are being violated. If their rights are being violated, then the society is unjust. And so this example, Nozick says, defeats the patterned theory:

[N]o end-state principle or distributional patterned principle of justice can be continuously realized without continuous interference with people’s lives. Any favored pattern would be transformed into one unfavored by the principle, by people choosing to act in various ways…. (Nozick, 163)

By this, Nozick intends to show that all patterned theories of justice interfere with the members of the society, in order to uphold the principle. The given patterned society S1, would be altered to become S2 (another patterned society) through the free choices of individuals, which leads to S2 being contradictory to the principle that upholds the pattern. Therefore, in a sense, patterned theories of justice are self defeating.

The Wilt Chamberlain argument can be presented in standard form thusly:

1. If a society requires the universal assent to a principle, then it sacrifices citizens’ liberties.

(a) If a society requires the universal assent to a principle, then it requires a pattern.

(b) If the society requires a pattern, then that pattern will be broken by persons’ actions.

(c) If that pattern will be broken by persons’ actions, then the citizens’ liberties are sacrificed to uphold the principle.

2. All distributional patterned theories of justice require universal assent to a principle.

3. /:. All distributional patterned theories of justice sacrifice citizens liberties.

In the following sections of this essay, I intend to deny the sub-premise (b) of premise 1, “If the society requires a pattern, then that pattern can be broken by persons’ actions”. I will show that not all patterned theories fall into this trap, but will demonstrate that an egalitarian society with individuals acting in their own rational self-interest behind the veil of ignorance would avoid the pattern being broken by their actions. It should be noted, at this point, that the egalitarian state described in the coming sections is a purely possible state. I do not intend to say that the world should be in this state; however, I will show that the claim “all patterned theories of justice are flawed” is false, by describing this possible state.

Rational Self-Interest and The Wilt Chamberlain Case Refuted

The question arises, at this point, “Were the 1 million people acting rationally in the Wilt Chamberlain case?” Clearly, the answer is no. For if they were, they would see that their actions would lead to an inequality in society. Such an inequality is not in the rational self-interest of any person; and, thus, if they were acting rationally, they would not attend the basketball games. If this line of thought is true, then the Wilt Chamberlain case is flawed. However, in order to make this argument more clear, there needs to be described a state that would arise from acting rationally from behind the veil of ignorance.

Rational Self-Interest

Such an egalitarian state assumes that all people in its bounds are acting upon the same techniques to decide individual decisions: namely, game theory (acting rationally and in one’s self interest) behind the veil of ignorance. Assuming that this possible patterned theory of justice is operating with such assumptions, the conclusion that more goods and services are being given to those with morally irrelevant features is irrational.

When one is behind the veil, one is hypothetically anybody with any morally irrelevant features (tall, short, athletic, clumsy, etc…). For instance, if one is, in reality, exceptionally good at math and acts in his self-interest, such a person would favor mathematicians in society. This desire is both rational and in his own self-interest. However, if this person were to go behind the veil of ignorance, his morally irrelevant feature of excelling at math would not be able to be considered. Thus, this person could either be good or bad at math; and so, by acting rationally, he will not favor mathematicians more than non-mathematicians, simply because when the veil is lifted, he could be either of these two things. Thus, it is in his best interest to desire a structure of society that treats those good at math as equal to those bad at math. And therefore, such a society that used this method of formulation would not favor any morally irrelevant feature over any other.

The Wilt Chamberlain Case Refuted

If such a possible patterned theory of justice were considered in the context of Nozick’s argument, the Wilt Chamberlain case would be of no effect. It is not in the rational self-interest of the egalitarian society to pay money toward Wilt Chamberlain’s morally irrelevant feature. This is apparent simply because those with athletic talent will not be favored over those without athletic talent (via the veil of ignorance).

To reintroduce the claim being refuted, it is sub-premise (b) from above, “If the society requires a pattern, then that pattern will be broken by persons’ actions”. Given the egalitarian society described, this premise is clearly false. If the possible egalitarian society mandates the use of game theory and the veil of ignorance, no person would so much as desire to contribute to inequalities through morally irrelevant features, for it is not in their self-interest. And thus, the state is not prohibiting such transactions, the actions simply would not be reasonable, defendable, nor justified.

Further Considerations

As with any attempt at creating an argument in philosophy, there are further considerations and potential refutations to consider. Of the argument provided in this paper, it is clear that there are many possible refutations; the strongest of these centers on the idea that the possible state described (the possible distributional patterned theory of justice) still falls into Nozick’s trap of limiting people’s liberties and rights to engage in transactions. The argument would attack the claim that such a state would naturally withhold itself from making transactions; and if people are not able to exchange goods and services, their rights are being limited and violated.

This refutation is taken to heart, although it would seem to me to miss the entire point of the argument. This possible patterned theory of justice implies that every individual in it is acting rationally with no tendencies to favor morally irrelevant features. If such a state is considered, then no individual would partake in giving money to Wilt Chamberlain for his basketball. It is not a limit on the rights of the people, it is a realization that it is not in their self-interest to buy the basketball ticket. If such a state could be imagined, then Nozick’s conclusion that all patterned theories of justice sacrifice the liberties of the individuals is considerable flawed; for above is described a state in which the liberties of the individuals is not being limited, rather, their liberties are being discovered.

Conclusion

The ultimate trap in philosophy is the making of absolute statements, for all that is needed to refute the claim, then, is one small possible world that contradicts the claim. Nozick fell into this trap with the Wilt Chamberlain argument, much how anarchists fall into a trap when saying, “all possible states violate the individual’s rights”. The claim that all possible distributional patterned theories of justice limit individual’s liberties, thus, is too large of a claim to make through the Wilt Chamberlain example. To deny that it would not defeat some patterned theories of justice is absurd; however, to make such wide sweeping claims with such a small argument is bold, to say the least.

It has been shown, through the Wilt Chamberlain argument, that there are possible patterned states that do not infringe on the rights of the citizens. And, through this conclusion, it can be argued that these patterned theories of justice are favorable to an unpatterned theory. It would be hopeful to say that all people act rationally and in their self-interest; in fact, most people do not do either of these things, let alone both of these things. However, the point remains that not all possible patterned theories of justice violate the liberties of people. Rather, given the steps these theories take, their liberties are not being violate, but upheld.

Contextualism Defended

Introduction

There has arisen a debate in contemporary epistemology as to whether the verb ‘to know’ operates in the same manner as other contextual words, such as ‘I’, ‘you’, ‘there’, ‘here’, etc…. Even more though, it is debated whether such an interpretation would justify the view of epistemic contextualism from mere semantic contextualism. It does not seem immediately apparent that epistemic contextualism follows from semantic contextualism. In this paper, I will defend epistemic contextualism and show that it does, in fact, follow from semantic contextualism. And following from this, I will detail two opposing arguments against epistemic contextualism and show that they have little weight against the proposed thesis.

Epistemic Contextualism

At this point, it is necessary to further explain the conclusion defended, before outlining the argument for it. The conclusion is, “Epistemic contextualism is true”; very well, what does that mean? In this paper, epistemic contextualism (EC) is defined as

EC: For a given proposition p, if p is true within the context c that person q is operating within, and if q knows p to be true within c, then q is justified in saying that s/he knows p.

Such a view allows many skeptical hurdles to be leaped. For example, say Johnny is speaking to Mr. Skeptic on an average day. In the conversation, Johnny points and says, “Look! A dachshund!” and promptly bends over to pet the dog. Immediately, in an outrage, Mr. Skeptic replies, “A dachshund? How absurd! How is it that you know that you are not a brain in a vat, having just the right neurons triggered to make you think there is a dachshund before you? You aren’t justified in making such a statement!”

In this example, Johnny makes an epistemic claim. He claims to have knowledge that a dachshund is before him. It is clear that Johnny is operating within the context of a walk down the street, a run through the park, a day at the beach, or any other average context; Mr. Skeptic is operating within a separate one from Johnny. Namely, Mr. Skeptic is within the context of metaphysics and epistemology, or something of this sort. Under EC, neither person in this case is wrong, per say. Focusing on Johnny, though, let us insert the phrase “there is a dachshund before me” in substitution for p, from the above definition. If there is a dachshund before Johnny (in the context of being in the park, on the street, at the beach, etc…) and he knows that the dachshund is before him, then he is justified in saying that he knows that there is a dachshund before him. Thus, by EC, Johnny avoids Mr. Skeptics’ reply. With a further grasp of EC in hand, let us move forward.

Argument For Epistemic Contextualism

The argument I will use for EC is simple; in standard form it looks like this:

1. Semantic contextualism is true.

2. Knowledge is a context based word.

3. If (1) and (2), then epistemic contextualism is true.

4. :. Epistemic contextualism is true.

Already, at the very least, we have before us a valid argument. Firstly, I will show that premise (1) is true; secondly, and more in-depth, I will demonstrate (2); and thirdly, (3) and (4) will easily follow.

Premise One

A demonstration of semantic contextualism (SC) is quite simple. Consider this scenario: I walk into a pole on my way to class and exclaim, “My nose hurts!” Suppose that I am walking with my friend who says “My nose hurts?” I reply, “No, your nose doesn’t hurt, my nose hurts.” What we witness here is a confusion of context. The words “your” and “my” are context based. The proposition “nose hurting” is relational to the person who utters it. So, even though the proposition is true for me, it is not true if said by a bystander because it applies to me, not them. We can see here, then, that premise one is true.

Premise Two

As seen in the dachshund dilemma, there are spheres of psychological interest. Those uninterested in heavyweight truth claims do not have these claims coming before their mind when making knowledge statements. An average person who does not read philosophy does not use “knowledge” in the same way that a philosopher might. Put another way, knowledge is context sensitive.

Moreover, an example will lend a helping hand. Suppose I am uninterested in philosophy; instead of reading, I like to go out and play hide and go seek with my friends. While playing one night, I am wandering around a park seeking my hiding friends. Even more, say I am crawling through some bush that I saw my friend run into, and I exclaim, “I know you are there”, just before tagging her.

It is clear in this example, that the person had sufficient evidence within the context of playing hide and go seek to utter “I know”. Would a person under a different set of conditions and contexts be able to say the same? Quite possibly not (particularly if they are a skeptic). It seems from this that knowledge operates under the context in which it exists.

Premise Three and Four

Not much needs to be said of this, since EC is tightly connected to knowledge being contextual. What must be said is that if premise (1) and (2) are true, then it immediately follows that epistemic contextualism is true, for if epistemology is the theory of knowledge and if knowledge is context sensitive, then epistemological propositions are context sensitive. And, so, EC is true.

Objections

Having fully explained my argument for contextualism, let us now observe some objections to EC raised by Earl Conee.

The Objection From Loose Talk

Conee’s first objection in standard form is:

1. The unvarying standard for truth is high, but not unreachable.

2. Most people make claims of knowledge on a basis much weaker than (1).

3. Actualism differs from efficient ways of speaking.

4. If (1), (2), and (3), then contextualism is misleading.

5. :. Contextualism is misleading.

The objection purports that knowledge is a hard thing to have; it is not a thing of the masses. If one does not fulfill the closure principle, or something of the like, then one does not have knowledge. And, according to Conee, many people do not fulfill a standard by which truth is tested (what that standard might be is irrelevant).

Response

The first objection of Conee’s seems on first glance to just be restating what contextualism is and then just stating it is absurd. However, granting his objection, I will deny the first premise and the third premise, though I will only discuss the first, seeing as the denial of the third is directly correlated to the denial of the first.

Contextualism, in a sense, divides one’s life into a varied number of circles that may intersect, may be isolated, or may be almost identical. Examples of this are an individual’s work, an individual’s home, an individual’s hobby, etc…. The same individual circulates through these different contexts, and acts in accordance to their conditions. Now, to say that there is an “unvarying standard” by which one attributes knowledge between the circles seems unfounded. What is this unvarying standard? The closure principle? If so, I see no reason to think that a person is acting irrationally if they say they know that they have a right hand, so long as it is in the contextual circle. Given that they see and feel their hand, they have reason to believe it exists. Contextualism does not lead to subjectivism.

Objection From Strict Truth

The objection in standard form:

1. If EC is true, then there is a philosophic context where there is a single standard by which to judge beliefs.

2. If there is a philosophic context where there is a single standard by which to judge beliefs, then EC does very little to contribute to philosophy.

3. :. EC does very little to contribute to philosophy.

Here Conee notes that contextualism does not solve many issues in philosophy. He argues that EC may solve problems raised by skeptics for the average person, but as for any philosophic arguments against skepticism, it is lacking. And because of this, EC has very little explanatory power.

Response

Yet again, Conee does not raise a serious objection against EC; he provides a description of it and argues that it has little explanatory power for philosophers. Even if this is the case, EC accomplishes a big task–namely, that of allowing confidence in other areas of life free from heavyweight skeptical claims. Though it does not provide a direct response to skeptical issues, it does make a serious contribution in preserving average day events. And, as Stewart Cohen suggests, this does disprove EC, it just allows EC to be put up against other theories of knowledge to see which is stronger. Of course, there is not the time and space for that in this paper, but it can be confidently stated that Conee does not provide a sufficiently strong argument to deny EC.

Conclusion

In conclusion, it has been shown that semantic contextualism alongside knowledge as a context word leads to epistemic contextualism, the view that one is justified in believing propositions so long that it is true in the context they are operating in. From there, two objections from Conee were presented. The first, the objection from loose talk, was shown to have little weight against EC; the second has a similar misunderstanding as the first. It has sufficiently been shown that epistemic contextualism is a justified thesis to hold.