One of the youngest sciences, psychology did not emerge as a formal discipline until the late 19th century. But its roots extend to the ancient past. For centuries, philosophers and religious scholars have wondered about the nature of the mind and the soul. Thus, the history of psychological thought begins in philosophy.
From about 600 to 300 Bc, Greek philosophers inquired about a wide range of psychological topics. They were especially interested in the nature of knowledge and how human beings come to know the world, a field of philosophy known as epistemology. The Greek philosopher Socrates and his followers, Plato and Aristotle, wrote about pleasure and pain, knowledge, beauty, desire, free will, motivation, common sense, rationality, memory, and the subjective nature of perception. They also theorized about whether human traits are innate or the product of experience. In the field of ethics, philosophers of the ancient world probed a variety of psychological questions: Are people inherently good? How can people attain happiness? What motives or drives do people have? Are human beings naturally social?
Second-century physician Galen was one of the most influential figures in ancient medicine, second in importance only to Hippocrates. Using animal dissection and other means, Galen proposed numerous theories about the function of different parts of the human body, most notably the brain, heart, and liver. He also derived an impressive understanding of the differences between veins and arteries. In the selection below, Galen discusses his idea that the optimal state, or “constitution,” of the body should be a perfect balance of various internal and external components.
Early thinkers also considered the causes of mental illness. Many ancient societies thought that mental illness resulted from supernatural causes, such as the anger of gods or possession by evil spirits. Both Socrates and Plato focussed on psychological forces as the cause of mental disturbance. For example, Plato thought madness results when a person’s irrational, animal-like psyche (mind or soul) overwhelms the intellectual, rational psyche. The Greek physician Hippocrates viewed mental disorders as stemming from natural causes, and he developed the first classification system for mental disorders. Galen, a Greek physician who lived in the 2nd century ad, echoed this belief in a physiological basis for mental disorders. He thought they resulted from an imbalance of the four bodily humours: black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm. For example, Galen thought that melancholia (depression) resulted from a person having too much black bile.
More recently, many other men and women contributed to the birth of modern psychology. In the 1600s French mathematician and philosopher René Descartes theorized that the body and mind are separate entities. He regarded the body as a physical entity and the mind as a spiritual entity, and believed the two interacted only through the pineal gland, a tiny structure at the base of the brain. This position became known as dualism. According to dualism, the behaviour of the body is determined by mechanistic laws and can be measured in a scientific manner. But the mind, which transcends the material world, cannot be similarly studied.
English philosophers Thomas Hobbes and John Locke disagreed. They argued that all human experiences-including sensations, images, thoughts, and feelings-are physical processes occurring within the brain and nervous system. Therefore, these experiences are valid subjects of study. In this view, which later became known as monism, the mind and body are one and the same. Today, in light of years of research indicating that the physical and mental aspects of the human experience are intertwined, most psychologists reject a rigid dualist position. See Philosophy of Mind; Dualism; Monism.
Many philosophers of the past also debated the question of whether human knowledge is inborn or the product of experience. Nativists believed that certain elementary truths are innate to the human mind and need not be gained through experience. In contrast, empiricists believed that at birth, a person’s mind is like a tabula rasa, or blank slate, and that all human knowledge ultimately comes from sensory experience. Today, all psychologists agree that both types of factors are important in the acquisition of knowledge.
Modern psychology can also be traced to the study of physiology (a branch of biology that studies living organisms and their parts) and medicine. In the 19th century, physiologists began studying the human brain and nervous system, paying particular attention to the topic of sensation. For example, in the 1850s and 1860s German scientist Hermann von Helmholtz studied sensory receptors in the eye and ear, investigating topics such as the speed of neural impulses, colour vision, hearing, and space perception. Another important German scientist, Gustav Fechner, founded psychophysics, the study of the relationship between physical stimuli and our subjective sensations of those stimuli. Building on the work of his compatriot Ernst Weber, Fechner developed a technique for measuring people’s subjective sensations of various physical stimuli. He sought to determine the minimum intensity level of a stimulus that is needed to produce a sensation.
English naturalist Charles Darwin was particularly influential in the development of psychology. In 1859 Darwin published On the Origin of Species, in which he proposed that all living forms were a product of the evolutionary process of natural selection. Darwin had based his theory on plants and nonhuman animals, but he later asserted that people had evolved through similar processes, and that human anatomy and behaviour could be analysed in the same way. Darwin’s theory of evolution invited comparisons between humans and other animals, and scientists soon began using animals in psychological research.
French neurologist Jean Martin Charcot shows colleagues a female patient with hysteria at La Salpêtrière, a Paris hospital. Charcot gained renown throughout Europe for his method of treating hysteria and other “nervous disorders” through hypnosis. Charcot’s belief that hysteria had psychological rather than physical origins influenced Austrian neurologist Sigmund Freud, who studied under Charcot.
In medicine, physicians were discovering new links between the brain and language. For example, French surgeon Paul Broca discovered that people who suffer damage to a specific part of the brain’s left hemisphere lose the ability to produce fluent speech. This area of the brain became known as Broca’s area. A German neurologist, Carl Wernicke, reported in 1874 that people with damage to a different area of the left hemisphere lose their ability to comprehend speech. This region became known as Wernicke’s area.
Other physicians focussed on the study of mental disorders. In the late 19th century, French neurologist Jean Charcot discovered that some of the patients he was treating for so-called nervous disorders could be cured through hypnosis, a psychological-not medical-form of intervention. Charcot’s work had a profound impact on Sigmund Freud, an Austrian neurologist whose theories would later revolutionize psychology.
Austrian physician Franz Fredrich Anton Mesmer pioneered the induction of trance-like states to cure medical ailments. Mesmer’s work sparked interest among some of his scientific colleagues but was later dismissed as charlatanism. Today, however, Mesmer is considered a pioneer in hypnosis, which is widely believed to be helpful in managing certain medical conditions.
Psychology was predated and somewhat influenced by various pseudoscientific schools of thought-that is, theories that had no scientific foundation. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Viennese physician Franz Joseph Gall developed phrenology, the theory that psychological traits and abilities reside in certain parts of the brain and can be measured by the bumps and indentations in the skull. Although phrenology found popular acceptance among the lay public in western Europe and the United States, most scientists ridiculed Gall’s ideas. However, research later confirmed the more general point that certain mental activities can be traced to specific parts of the brain.
Physicians in the 18th and 19th centuries used crude devices to treat mental illness, none of which offered any real relief. The circulating swing, top left, was used to spin depressed patients at high speed. American physician Benjamin Rush devised the tranquillizing chair, top right, to calm people with mania. The crib, bottom, was widely used to restrain violent patients.
Another Viennese physician of the 18th century, Franz Anton Mesmer, believed that illness was caused by an imbalance of magnetic fluids in the body. He believed he could restore the balance by passing his hands across the patient’s body and waving a magnetic wand over the infected area. Mesmer claimed that his patients would fall into a trance and awaken from it feeling better. The medical community, however, soundly rejected the claim. Today, Mesmer’s technique, known as mesmerism, is regarded as an early forerunner of modern hypnosis.
Modern psychology is deeply rooted in the older disciplines of philosophy and physiology. But the official birth of psychology is often traced to 1879, at the University of Leipzig, in Leipzig, Germany. There, physiologist Wilhelm Wundt established the first laboratory dedicated to the scientific study of the mind. Wundt’s laboratory soon attracted leading scientists and students from Europe and the United States. Among these were James McKeen Cattell, one of the first psychologists to study individual differences through the administration of 'mental tests', Emil Kraepelin, a German psychiatrist who postulated a physical cause for mental illnesses and in 1883 published the first classification system for mental disorders; and Hugo Münsterberg, the first to apply psychology to industry and the law. Wundt was extraordinarily productive over the course of his career. He supervised a total of 186 doctoral dissertations, taught thousands of students, founded the first scholarly psychological journal, and published innumerable scientific studies. His goal, which he stated in the preface of a book he wrote, was 'to mark out a new domain of science'.
Compared to the philosophers who preceded him, Wundt’s approach to the study of mind was based on systematic and rigorous observation. His primary method of research was introspection. This technique involved training people to concentrate and report on their conscious experiences as they reacted to visual displays and other stimuli. In his laboratory, Wundt systematically studied topics such as attention span, reaction time, vision, emotion, and time perception. By recruiting people to serve as subjects, varying the conditions of their experience, and then rigorously repeating all observations, Wundt laid the foundation for the modern psychology experiment.
In the United States, Harvard University professor William James observed the emergence of psychology with great interest. Although trained in physiology and medicine, James was fascinated by psychology and philosophy. In 1875 he offered his first course in psychology. In 1890 James published a two-volume book entitled Principles of Psychology. It immediately became the leading psychology text in the United States, and it brought James a worldwide reputation as a man of great ideas and inspiration. In 28 chapters, James wrote about the stream of consciousness, the formation of habits, individuality, the link between mind and body, emotions, the self, and other topics that inspired generations of psychologists. Today, historians consider James the founder of American psychology.
James’s students also made lasting contributions to the field. In 1883 G. Stanley Hall (who also studied with Wundt) established the first true American psychology laboratory in the United States at Johns Hopkins University, and in 1892 he founded and became the first president of the American Psychological Association. Mary Whiton Calkins created an important technique for studying memory and conducted one of the first studies of dreams. In 1905 she was elected the first female president of the American Psychological Association. Edward Lee Thorndike conducted some of the first experiments on animal learning and wrote a pioneering textbook on educational psychology.
During the first decades of psychology, two main schools of thought dominated the field: structuralism and functionalism. Structuralism was a system of psychology developed by Edward Bradford Titchener, an American psychologist who studied under Wilhelm Wundt. Structuralists believed that the task of psychology is to identify the basic elements of consciousness in much the same way that physicists break down the basic particles of matter. For example, Titchener identified four elements in the sensation of taste: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter. The main method of investigation in structuralism was introspection. The influence of structuralism in psychology faded after Titchener’s death in 1927.
In contradiction to the structuralist movement, William James promoted a school of thought known as functionalism, the belief that the real task of psychology is to investigate the function, or purpose, of consciousness rather than its structure. James was highly influenced by Darwin’s evolutionary theory that all characteristics of a species must serve some adaptive purpose. Functionalism enjoyed widespread appeal in the United States. Its three main leaders were James Rowland Angell, a student of James; John Dewey, who was also one of the foremost American philosophers and educators; and Harvey A. Carr, a psychologist at the University of Chicago.
In their efforts to understand human behavioural processes, the functional psychologists developed the technique of longitudinal research, which consists of interviewing, testing, and observing one person over a long period of time. Such a system permits the psychologist to observe and record the person’s development and how he or she reacts to different circumstances.
In the late 19th century Viennese neurologist Sigmund Freud developed a theory of personality and a system of psychotherapy known as psychoanalysis. According to this theory, people are strongly influenced by unconscious forces, including innate sexual and aggressive drives. In this 1938 British Broadcasting Corporation interview, Freud recounts the early resistance to his ideas and later acceptance of his work. Freud’s speech is slurred because he was suffering from cancer of the jaw. He died the following year.
Alongside Wundt and James, a third prominent leader of the new psychology was Sigmund Freud, a Viennese neurologist of the late 19th and early 20th century. Through his clinical practice, Freud developed a very different approach to psychology. After graduating from medical school, Freud treated patients who appeared to suffer from certain ailments but had nothing physically wrong with them. These patients were not consciously faking their symptoms, and often the symptoms would disappear through hypnosis, or even just by talking. On the basis of these observations, Freud formulated a theory of personality and a form of psychotherapy known as psychoanalysis. It became one of the most influential schools of Western thought of the 20th century.
Freud introduced his new theory in The Interpretation of Dreams (1889), the first of 24 books he would write. The theory is summarized in Freud’s last book, An Outline of Psychoanalysis, published in 1940, after his death. In contrast to Wundt and James, for whom psychology was the study of conscious experience, Freud believed that people are motivated largely by unconscious forces, including strong sexual and aggressive drives. He likened the human mind to an iceberg: The small tip that floats on the water is the conscious part, and the vast region beneath the surface comprises the unconscious. Freud believed that although unconscious motives can be temporarily suppressed, they must find a suitable outlet in order for a person to maintain a healthy personality.
To probe the unconscious mind, Freud developed the psychotherapy technique of free association. In free association, the patient reclines and talks about thoughts, wishes, memories, and whatever else comes to mind. The analyst tries to interpret these verbalizations to determine their psychological significance. In particular, Freud encouraged patients to free associate about their dreams, which he believed were the “royal road to the unconscious.” According to Freud, dreams are disguised expressions of deep, hidden impulses. Thus, as patients recount the conscious manifest content of dreams, the psychoanalyst tries to unmask the underlying latent content-what the dreams really mean.
From the start of psychoanalysis, Freud attracted followers, many of whom later proposed competing theories. As a group, these neo-Freudians shared the assumption that the unconscious plays an important role in a person’s thoughts and behaviours. Most parted company with Freud, however, over his emphasis on sex as a driving force. For example, Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung theorized that all humans inherit a collective unconscious that contains universal symbols and memories from their ancestral past. Austrian physician Alfred Adler theorized that people are primarily motivated to overcome inherent feelings of inferiority. He wrote about the effects of birth order in the family and coined the term sibling rivalry. Karen Horney, a German-born American psychiatrist, argued that humans have a basic need for love and security, and become anxious when they feel isolated and alone.
Motivated by a desire to uncover unconscious aspects of the psyche, psychoanalytic researchers devised what are known as projective tests. A projective test asks people to respond to an ambiguous stimulus such as a word, an incomplete sentence, an inkblot, or an ambiguous picture. These tests are based on the assumption that if a stimulus is vague enough to accommodate different interpretations, then people will use it to project their unconscious needs, wishes, fears, and conflicts. The most popular of these tests are the Rorschach Inkblot Test, which consists of ten inkblots, and the Thematic Apperception Test, which consists of drawings of people in ambiguous situations.
Psychoanalysis has been criticized on various grounds and is not as popular as in the past. However, Freud’s overall influence on the field has been deep and lasting, particularly his ideas about the unconscious. Today, most psychologists agree that people can be profoundly influenced by unconscious forces, and that people often have a limited awareness of why they think, feel, and behave as they do. See Psychoanalysis; Psychotherapy: Psychodynamic Therapies.
In 1885 German philosopher Hermann Ebbinghaus conducted one of the first studies on memory, using himself as a subject. He memorized lists of nonsense syllables and then tested his memory of the syllables at intervals ranging from 20 minutes to 31 days. As shown in this curve, he found that he remembered less than 40 percent of the items after nine hours, but that the rate of forgetting levelled off over time.
In addition to Wundt, James, and Freud, many others scholars helped to define the science of psychology. In 1885 German philosopher Hermann Ebbinghaus conducted a series of classic experiments on memory, using nonsense syllables to establish principles of retention and forgetting. In 1896 American psychologist Lightner Witmer opened the first psychological clinic, which initially treated children with learning disorders. He later founded the first journal and training program in a new helping profession that he named clinical psychology. In 1905 French psychologist Alfred Binet devised the first major intelligence test in order to assess the academic potential of schoolchildren in Paris. The test was later translated and revised by Stanford University psychologist Lewis Terman and is now known as the Stanford-Binet intelligence test. In 1908 American psychologist Margaret Floy Washburn (who later became the second female president of the American Psychological Association) wrote an influential book called The Animal Mind, in which she synthesized animal research to that time.
In 1912 German psychologist Max Wertheimer discovered that when two stationary lights flash in succession, people see the display as a single light moving back and forth. This illusion inspired the Gestalt psychology movement, which was based on the notion that people tend to perceive a well-organized whole or pattern that is different from the sum of isolated sensations. Other leaders of Gestalt psychology included Wertheimer’s close associates Wolfgang Köhler and Kurt Koffka. Later, German American psychologist Kurt Lewin extended Gestalt psychology to studies of motivation, personality, social psychology, and conflict resolution. German American psychologist Fritz Heider then extended this approach to the study of how people perceive themselves and others.
In the late 19th century, American psychologist Edward L. Thorndike conducted some of the first experiments on animal learning. Thorndike formulated the law of effect, which states that behaviours that are followed by pleasant consequences will be more likely to be repeated in the future.
William James had defined psychology as 'the science of mental life'. But in the early 1900s, growing numbers of psychologists voiced criticism of the approach used by scholars to explore conscious and unconscious mental processes. These critics doubted the reliability and usefulness of the method of introspection, in which subjects are asked to describe their own mental processes during various tasks. They were also critical of Freud’s emphasis on unconscious motives. In search of more-scientific methods, psychologists gradually turned away from research on invisible mental processes and began to study only behaviour that could be observed directly. This approach, known as Behaviourism, ultimately revolutionized psychology and remained the dominant school of thought for nearly 50 years.
Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov discovered a major type of learning, classical conditioning, by accident while conducting experiments on digestion in the early 1900s. He devoted the rest of his life to discovering the underlying principles of classical conditioning.
Among the first to lay the foundation for the new Behaviourism was American psychologist Edward Lee Thorndike. In 1898 Thorndike conducted a series of experiments on animal learning. In one study, he put cats into a cage, put food just outside the cage, and timed how long it took the cats to learn how to open an escape door that led to the food. Placing the animals in the same cage again and again, Thorndike found that the cats would repeat behaviours that worked and would escape more and more quickly with successive trials. Thorndike thereafter proposed the law of effect, which states that behaviours that are followed by a positive outcome are repeated, while those followed by a negative outcome or none at all are extinguished.
In 1906 Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov-who had won a Nobel Prize two years earlier for his studies of digestion-stumbled onto one of the most important principles of learning and behaviour. Pavlov was investigating the digestive process in dogs by putting food in their mouths and measuring the flow of saliva. He found that after repeated testing, the dogs would salivate in anticipation of the food, even before he put it in their mouth. He soon discovered that if he rang a bell just before the food was presented each time, the dogs would eventually salivate at the mere sound of the bell. Pavlov had discovered a basic form of learning called classical conditioning (also referred to as Pavlovian conditioning) in which an organism comes to associate one stimulus with another. Later research showed that this basic process can account for how people form certain preferences and fears. See Learning: Classical Conditioning.
American psychologist John B. Watson believed psychologists should study observable behaviour instead of speculating about a person’s inner thoughts and feelings. Watson’s approach, which he termed Behaviourism, dominated psychology for the first half of the 20th century.
Although Thorndike and Pavlov set the stage for Behaviourism, it was not until 1913 that a psychologist set forward a clear vision for behaviorist psychology. In that year John Watson, a well-known animal psychologist at Johns Hopkins University, published a landmark paper entitled 'Psychology as the Behaviorist Views It'. Watson’s goal was nothing less than a complete redefinition of psychology. 'Psychology as the behaviorist views it'. Watson wrote, 'is a purely objective experimental branch of natural science. Its theoretical goal is the prediction and control of behaviour'. Watson narrowly defined psychology as the scientific study of behaviour. He urged his colleagues to abandon both introspection and speculative theories about the unconscious. Instead he stressed the importance of observing and quantifying behaviour. In light of Darwin’s theory of evolution, he also advocated the use of animals in psychological research, convinced that the principles of behaviour would generalize across all species.
American psychologist B. F. Skinner became famous for his pioneering research on learning and behaviour. During his 60-year career, Skinner discovered important principles of operant conditioning, a type of learning that involves reinforcement and punishment. A strict behaviorist, Skinner believed that operant conditioning could explain even the most complex of human behaviours.
Many American psychologists were quick to adopt Behaviourism, and animal laboratories were set up all over the country. Aiming to predict and control behaviour, the behaviorists’ strategy was to vary a stimulus in the environment and observe an organism's response. They saw no need to speculate about mental processes inside the head. For example, Watson argued that thinking was simply talking to oneself silently. He believed that thinking could be studied by recording the movement of certain muscles in the throat.
American psychologist B. F. Skinner designed an apparatus, now called a Skinner box, that allowed him to formulate important principles of animal learning. An animal placed inside the box is rewarded with a small bit of food each time it makes the desired response, such as pressing a lever or pecking a key. A device outside the box records the animal’s responses.
The most forceful leader of Behaviourism was B. F. Skinner, an American psychologist who began studying animal learning in the 1930s. Skinner coined the term reinforcement and invented a new research apparatus called the Skinner box for use in testing animals. Based on his experiments with rats and pigeons, Skinner identified a number of basic principles of learning. He claimed that these principles explained not only the behaviour of laboratory animals, but also accounted for how human beings learn new behaviours or change existing behaviours. He concluded that nearly all behaviour is shaped by complex patterns of reinforcement in a person’s environment, a process that he called operant conditioning (also referred to as instrumental conditioning). Skinner’s views on the causes of human behaviour made him one of the most famous and controversial psychologists of the 20th century.
Operant conditioning, pioneered by American psychologist B. F. Skinner, is the process of shaping behaviour by means of reinforcement and punishment. This illustration shows how a mouse can learn to manoeuver through a maze. The mouse is rewarded with food when it reaches the first turn in the maze (A). Once the first behaviour becomes ingrained, the mouse is not rewarded until it makes the second turn (B). After many times through the maze, the mouse must reach the end of the maze to receive its reward ©.
Skinner and others applied his findings to modify behaviour in the workplace, the classroom, the clinic, and other settings. In World War II (1939-1945), for example, he worked for the U.S. government on a top-secret project in which he trained pigeons to guide an armed glider plane toward enemy ships. He also invented the first teaching machine, which allowed students to learn at their own pace by solving a series of problems and receiving immediate feedback. In his popular book Walden Two (1948), Skinner presented his vision of a behaviorist utopia, in which socially adaptive behaviours are maintained by rewards, or positive reinforcements. Throughout his career, Skinner held firm to his belief that psychologists should focus on the prediction and control of behaviour.
Faced with a choice between psychoanalysis and Behaviourism, many psychologists in the 1950s and 1960s sensed a void in psychology’s conception of human nature. Freud had drawn attention to the darker forces of the unconscious, and Skinner was interested only in the effects of reinforcement on observable behaviour. Humanistic psychology was born out of a desire to understand the conscious mind, free will, human dignity, and the capacity for self-reflection and growth. An alternative to psychoanalysis and Behaviourism, humanistic psychology became known as 'the third force'.
The humanistic movement was led by American psychologists Carl Rogers and Abraham Maslow. According to Rogers, all humans are born with a drive to achieve their full capacity and to behave in ways that are consistent with their true selves. Rogers, a psychotherapist, developed person-entered therapy, a nonjudgmental, non-directive approach that helped clients clarify their sense of who they are in an effort to facilitate their own healing process. At about the same time, Maslow theorized that all people are motivated to fulfill a hierarchy of needs. At the bottom of the hierarchy are basic physiological needs, such as hunger, thirst, and sleep. Further up the hierarchy are needs for safety and security, needs for belonging and love, and esteem-related needs for status and achievement. Once these needs are met, Maslow believed, people strive for self-actualization, the ultimate state of personal fulfilment. As Maslow put it, 'A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is ultimately to be at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be'.
Swiss psychologist Jean Piaget based his early theories of intellectual development on his questioning and observation of his own children. From these and later studies, Piaget concluded that all children pass through a predictable series of cognitive stages.
From the 1920s through the 1960s, Behaviourism dominated psychology in the United States. Eventually, however, psychologists began to move away from strict Behaviourism. Many became increasingly interested in cognition, a term used to describe all the mental processes involved in acquiring, storing, and using knowledge. Such processes include perception, memory, thinking, problem solving, imagining, and language. This shift in emphasis toward cognition had such a profound influence on psychology that it has often been called the cognitive revolution. The psychological study of cognition became known as cognitive psychology.
One reason for psychologists’ renewed interest in mental processes was the invention of the computer, which provided an intriguing metaphor for the human mind. The hardware of the computer was likened to the brain, and computer programs provided a step-by-step model of how information from the environment is input, stored, and retrieved to produce a response. Based on the computer metaphor, psychologists began to formulate information-processing models of human thought and behaviour.
In the 1950s American linguist Noam Chomsky proposed that the human brain is especially constructed to detect and reproduce language and that the ability to form and understand language is innate to all human beings. According to Chomsky, young children learn and apply grammatical rules and vocabulary as they are exposed to them and do not require initial formal teaching.
The pioneering work of Swiss psychologist Jean Piaget also inspired psychologists to study cognition. During the 1920s, while administering intelligence tests in schools, Piaget became interested in how children think. He designed various tasks and interview questions to reveal how children of different ages reason about time, nature, numbers, causality, morality, and other concepts. Based on his many studies, Piaget theorized that from infancy to adolescence, children advance through a predictable series of cognitive stages.
The cognitive revolution also gained momentum from developments in the study of language. Behaviorist B. F. Skinner had claimed that language is acquired according to the laws of operant conditioning, in much the same way that rats learn to press a bar for food pellets. In 1959, however, American linguist Noam Chomsky charged that Skinner's account of language development was wrong. Chomsky noted that children all over the world start to speak at roughly the same age and proceed through roughly the same stages without being explicitly taught or rewarded for the effort. According to Chomsky, the human capacity for learning language is innate. He theorized that the human brain is “hardwired” for language as a product of evolution. By pointing to the primary importance of biological dispositions in the development of language, Chomsky’s theory dealt a serious blow to the behaviorist assumption that all human behaviours are formed and maintained by reinforcement.
Before psychology became established in science, it was popularly associated with extrasensory perception (ESP) and other paranormal phenomena (phenomena beyond the laws of science). Today, these topics lie outside the traditional scope of scientific psychology and fall within the domain of parapsychology. Psychologists note that thousands of studies have failed to demonstrate the existence of paranormal phenomena. See Psychical Research.
Grounded in the conviction that mind and behaviour must be studied using statistical and scientific methods, psychology has become a highly respected and socially useful discipline. Psychologists now study important and sensitive topics such as the similarities and differences between men and women, racial and ethnic diversity, sexual orientation, marriage and divorce, abortion, adoption, intelligence testing, sleep and sleep disorders, obesity and dieting, and the effects of psychoactive drugs such as methylphenidate (Ritalin) and fluoxetine (Prozac).
In the last few decades, researchers have made significant breakthroughs in understanding the brain, mental processes, and behaviour. This section of the article provides examples of contemporary research in psychology: the plasticity of the brain and nervous system, the nature of consciousness, memory distortions, competence and rationality, genetic influences on behaviour, infancy, the nature of intelligence, human motivation, prejudice and discrimination, the benefits of psychotherapy, and the psychological influences on the immune system.
Psychologists once believed that the neural circuits of the adult brain and nervous system were fully developed and no longer subject to change. Then in the 1980s and 1990s a series of provocative experiments showed that the adult brain has flexibility, or plasticity-a capacity to change as a result of usage and experience.
These experiments showed that adult rats flooded with visual stimulation formed new neural connections in the brain’s visual cortex, where visual signals are interpreted. Likewise, those trained to run an obstacle course formed new connections in the cerebellum, where balance and motor skills are coordinated. Similar results with birds, mice, and monkeys have confirmed the point: Experience can stimulate the growth of new connections and mold the brain’s neural architecture.
Once the brain reaches maturity, the number of neurons does not increase, and any neurons that are damaged are permanently disabled. But the plasticity of the brain can greatly benefit people with damage to the brain and nervous system. Organisms can compensate for loss by strengthening old neural connections and sprouting new ones. That is why people who suffer strokes are often able to recover their lost speech and motor abilities.
In 1860 German physicist Gustav Fechner theorized that if the human brain were divided into right and left halves, each side would have its own stream of consciousness. Modern medicine has actually allowed scientists to investigate this hypothesis. People who suffer from life-threatening epileptic seizures sometimes undergo a radical surgery that severs the corpus callosum, a bridge of nerve tissue that connects the right and left hemispheres of the brain. After the surgery, the two hemispheres can no longer communicate with each other.
Scientists have long considered the nature of consciousness without producing a fully satisfactory definition. In the early 20th century American philosopher and psychologist William James suggested that consciousness is a mental process involving both attention to external stimuli and short-term memory. Later scientific explorations of consciousness mostly expanded upon James’s work. In this article from a 1997 special issue of Scientific American, Nobel laureate Francis Crick, who helped determine the structure of DNA, and fellow biophysicist Christof Koch explain how experiments on vision might deepen our understanding of consciousness.
Beginning in the 1960s American neurologist Roger Sperry and others tested such split-brain patients in carefully designed experiments. The researchers found that the hemispheres of these patients seemed to function independently, almost as if the subjects had two brains. In addition, they discovered that the left hemisphere was capable of speech and language, but not the right hemisphere. For example, when split-brain patients saw the image of an object flashed in their left visual field (thus sending the visual information to the right hemisphere), they were incapable of naming or describing the object. Yet they could easily point to the correct object with their left hand (which is controlled by the right hemisphere). As Sperry’s colleague Michael Gazzaniga stated, 'Each half brain seemed to work and function outside of the conscious realm of the other'.
Other psychologists interested in consciousness have examined how people are influenced without their awareness. For example, research has demonstrated that under certain conditions in the laboratory, people can be fleetingly affected by subliminal stimuli, sensory information presented so rapidly or faintly that it falls below the threshold of awareness. (Note, however, that scientists have discredited claims that people can be importantly influenced by subliminal messages in advertising, rock music, or other media.) Other evidence for influence without awareness comes from studies of people with a type of amnesia that prevents them from forming new memories. In experiments, these subjects are unable to recognize words they previously viewed in a list, but they are more likely to use those words later in an unrelated task. In fact, memory without awareness is normal, as when people come up with an idea they think is original, only later to realize that they had inadvertently borrowed it from another source.
Cognitive psychologists have often likened human memory to a computer that encodes, stores, and retrieves information. It is now clear, however, that remembering is an active process and that people construct and alter memories according to their beliefs, wishes, needs, and information received from outside sources.
Without realizing it, people sometimes create memories that are false. In one study, for example, subjects watched a slide show depicting a car accident. They saw either a 'STOP' sign or a 'YIELD' sign in the slides, but afterward they were asked a question about the accident that implied the presence of the other sign. Influenced by this suggestion, many subjects recalled the wrong traffic sign. In another study, people who heard a list of sleep-related words (bed, yawn) or music-related words (jazz, instrument) were often convinced moments later that they had also heard the words sleep or music-words that fit the category but were not on the list. In a third study, researchers asked college students to recall their high-school grades. Then the researchers checked those memories against the students’ actual transcripts. The students recalled most grades correctly, but most of the errors inflated their grades, particularly when the actual grades were low. See Memory.
When scientists distinguish between human beings and other animals, they point to our larger cerebral cortex (the outer part of the brain) and to our superior intellect-as seen in the abilities to acquire and store large amounts of information, solve problems, and communicate through the use of language.
In recent years, however, those studying human cognition have found that people are often less than rational and accurate in their performance. Some researchers have found that people are prone to forgetting, and worse, that memories of past events are often highly distorted. Others have observed that people often violate the rules of logic and probability when reasoning about real events, as when gamblers overestimate the odds of winning in games of chance. One reason for these mistakes is that we commonly rely on cognitive heuristics, mental shortcuts that allow us to make judgments that are quick but often in error. To understand how heuristics can lead to mistaken assumptions, imagine offering people a lottery ticket containing six numbers out of a pool of the numbers 1 through 40. If given a choice between the tickets 6-39-2-10-24-30 or 1-2-3-4-5-6, most people select the first ticket, because it has the appearance of randomness. Yet out of the 3,838,380 possible winning combinations, both sequences are equally likely.
One of the oldest debates in psychology, and in philosophy, concerns whether individual human traits and abilities are predetermined from birth or due to one’s upbringing and experiences. This debate is often termed the nature-nurture debate. A strict genetic (nature) position states that people are predisposed to become sociable, smart, cheerful, or depressed according to their genetic blueprint. In contrast, a strict environmental (nurture) position says that people are shaped by parents, peers, cultural institutions, and life experiences.
Research shows that the more genetically related a person is to someone with schizophrenia, the greater the risk that person has of developing the illness. For example, children of one parent with schizophrenia have a 13 percent chance of developing the illness, whereas children of two parents with schizophrenia have a 46 percent chance of developing the disorder.
Researchers can estimate the role of genetic factors in two ways: (1) twin studies and (2) adoption studies. Twin studies compare identical twins with fraternal twins of the same sex. If identical twins (who share all the same genes) are more similar to each other on a given trait than are same-sex fraternal twins (who share only about half of the same genes), then genetic factors are assumed to influence the trait. Other studies compare identical twins who are raised together with identical twins who are separated at birth and raised in different families. If the twins raised together are more similar to each other than the twins raised apart, childhood experiences are presumed to influence the trait. Sometimes researchers conduct adoption studies, in which they compare adopted children to their biological and adoptive parents. If these children display traits that resemble those of their biological relatives more than their adoptive relatives, genetic factors are assumed to play a role in the trait.
In recent years, several twin and adoption studies have shown that genetic factors play a role in the development of intellectual abilities, temperament and personality, vocational interests, and various psychological disorders. Interestingly, however, this same research indicates that at least 50 percent of the variation in these characteristics within the population is attributable to factors in the environment. Today, most researchers agree that psychological characteristics spring from a combination of the forces of nature and nurture.
Helpless to survive on their own, newborn babies nevertheless possess a remarkable range of skills that aid in their survival. Newborns can see, hear, taste, smell, and feel pain; vision is the least developed sense at birth but improves rapidly in the first months. Crying communicates their need for food, comfort, or stimulation. Newborns also have reflexes for sucking, swallowing, grasping, and turning their head in search of their mother’s nipple.
In 1890 William James described the newborn’s experience as 'one great blooming, buzzing confusion'. However, with the aid of sophisticated research methods, psychologists have discovered that infants are smarter than was previously known.
A period of dramatic growth, infancy lasts from birth to around 18 months of age. Researchers have found that infants are born with certain abilities designed to aid their survival. For example, newborns show a distinct preference for human faces over other visual stimuli.
To learn about the perceptual world of infants, researchers measure infants’ head movements, eye movements, facial expressions, brain waves, heart rate, and respiration. Using these indicators, psychologists have found that shortly after birth, infants show a distinct preference for the human face over other visual stimuli. Also suggesting that newborns are tuned in to the face as a social object is the fact that within 72 hours of birth, they can mimic adults who purse the lips or stick out the tongue-a rudimentary form of imitation. Newborns can distinguish between their mother’s voice and that of another woman. And at two weeks old, nursing infants are more attracted to the body odour of their mother and other breast-feeding females than to that of other women. Taken together, these findings show that infants are equipped at birth with certain senses and reflexes designed to aid their survival.
In 1905 French psychologist Alfred Binet and colleague Théodore Simon devised one of the first tests of general intelligence. The test sought to identify French children likely to have difficulty in school so that they could receive special education. An American version of Binet’s test, the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scale, is still used today.
In 1905 French psychologist Alfred Binet devised the first major intelligence test for the purpose of identifying slow learners in school. In doing so, Binet assumed that intelligence could be measured as a general intellectual capacity and summarized in a numerical score, or intelligence quotient (IQ). Consistently, testing has revealed that although each of us is more skilled in some areas than in others, a general intelligence underlies our more specific abilities.
Intelligence tests often play a decisive role in determining whether a person is admitted to college, graduate school, or professional school. Thousands of people take intelligence tests every year, but many psychologists and education experts question whether these tests are an accurate way of measuring who will succeed or fail in school and later in life. In this 1998 Scientific American article, psychology and education professor Robert J. Sternberg of Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut, presents evidence against conventional intelligence tests and proposes several ways to improve testing.
Today, many psychologists believe that there is more than one type of intelligence. American psychologist Howard Gardner proposed the existence of multiple intelligence, each linked to a separate system within the brain. He theorized that there are seven types of intelligence: linguistic, logical-mathematical, spatial, musical, bodily-kinesthetic, interpersonal, and intrapersonal. American psychologist Robert Sternberg suggested a different model of intelligence, consisting of three components: analytic ('school smarts', as measured in academic tests), creative (a capacity for insight), and practical ('street smarts', or the ability to size up and adapt to situations). See Intelligence.
Psychologists from all branches of the discipline study the topic of motivation, an inner state that moves an organism toward the fulfilment of some goal. Over the years, different theories of motivation have been proposed. Some theories state that people are motivated by the need to satisfy physiological needs, whereas others state that people seek to maintain an optimum level of bodily arousal (not too little and not too much). Still other theories focus on the ways in which people respond to external incentives such as money, grades in school, and recognition. Motivation researchers study a wide range of topics, including hunger and obesity, sexual desire, the effects of reward and punishment, and the needs for power, achievement, social acceptance, love, and self-esteem.
In 1954 American psychologist Abraham Maslow proposed that all people are motivated to fulfill a hierarchical pyramid of needs. At the bottom of Maslow’s pyramid are needs essential to survival, such as the needs for food, water, and sleep. The need for safety follows these physiological needs. According to Maslow, higher-level needs become important to us only after our more basic needs are satisfied. These higher needs include the need for love and belongingness, the need for esteem, and the need for self-actualization (in Maslow’s theory, a state in which people realize their greatest potential).
The view that the role of sentences in inference gives a more important key to their meaning than their ‘external’ relations to things in the world. The meaning of a sentence becomes its place in a network of inferences that it legitimates. Also known as its functional role semantics, procedural semantic or conceptual role semantics. As these view bear some relation to the coherence theory of truth, and suffers from the same suspicion that divorces meaning from any clear association with things in the world.
Paradoxes rest upon the assumption that analysis is a relation with concept, then are involving entities of other sorts, such as linguistic expressions, and that in true analysis, analysand and analysandum are one and the same concept. However, these assumptions are explicit in the British philosopher George Edward Moore, but some of Moore’s remarks hint at a solution that a statement of an analysis is a statement partially taken about the concept involved and partly about the verbal expression used to express it. Moore is to suggest that he thinks of a solution of this sort is bound to be right, however, facts to suggest one because he cannot reveal of any way in which the analysis can be as part of the expressors.
Elsewhere, the possibility clearly does set of apparent incontrovertible premises giving unacceptable or contradictory conclusions. To solve a paradox will involve either showing that these is a hidden flaw in the premises, or what the reasoning is erroneous, or that the apparently unacceptable conclusion can, in fact, be tolerable. Paradoxes are therefore important in philosophy, for until one is solved it shows that there is something about our reasoning and our concepts that we do not understand. Famous families of paradoxes include the semantic paradoxes and Zeno’s paradoxes. At the beginning of the 20th century, Russell’s paradox and other set-theoretic paradoxes of set theory, while the Sorites paradox has led to the investigation of the semantics of vagueness, and fuzzy logic. Paradoxes are under their other titles. Much as there is as much as a puzzle arising when someone says ‘p but I do not believe that p’. What is said is not contradictory, since (for many instances of p) both parts of it could br true. But the person nevertheless violates one presupposition of normal practice, namely that you assert something only if you believe it: By adding that you do not believe what you just said you undo the natural significance of the original act saying it.
Furthermore, the moral philosopher and epistemologist Bernard Bolzano (1781-1848), whose logical work was based on a strong sense of there being an ontological underpinning of science and epistemology, lying in a theory of the objective entailments masking up the structure of scientific theories. His ability to challenge wisdom and come up with startling new ideas, as a Christian philosopher whether than from any position of mathematical authority, that for considerations of infinity, Bolzano’s significant work was Paradoxin des Unenndlichen, written in retirement an translated into the English as Paradoxes of the Infinite. Here, Bolzano considered directly the points that had concerned Galileo-the conflicting result that seem to emerge when infinity is studied. Certainly most of the paradoxical statements encountered in the mathematical domain . . . are propositions which either immediately contain the idea of the infinite, or at least in some way or other depends upon that idea for their attempted proof.
Continuing, Bolzano looks at two possible approaches to infinity. One is simply the case of setting up a sequence of numbers, such as the whole numbers, and saying that as it can not conceivably be said to have a last term, it is inherently infinite-not finite. It is easy enough to show that the whole numbers do not have a point at which they stop, giving a name to that last number whatever it might be an call it ‘ultimate’. Then what’s wrong with ultimate + 1? Why is that not a whole number?
The second approach to infinity, which Bolzano ascribes in Paradoses of the Infinite to ‘some philosophers . . . Taking this approach describe his first conception of infinity as the ‘bad infinity’. Although the German philosopher Friedrich George Hegel (1770-1831) applies the conceptual form of infinity and points that it is, rather, the basis for a substandard infinity that merely reaches towards the absolute, but never reaches it. In Paradoses of the Infinite, he calls this form of potential infinity as a variable quantity knowing no limit to its growth (a definition adopted, even by many mathematicians) . . . always growing int th infinite and never reaching it. As far as Hegel and his colleagues were concerned , using this uprush, there was no need for a real infinity beyond some unreachable absolute. Instead we deal with a variable quality that is as big as we need it to be, or often in calculus as small as we need it to be, without ever reaching the absolute, ultimate, truly infinite.
Bolzano argues, though, that there is something else, an infinity that doe not have this ‘whatever you need it to be’ elasticity. In fact a truly infinite quantity (for example, the length of a straight line unbounded in either direction, meaning: The magnitude of the spatial entity containing all the points determined solely by their abstractly conceivable relation to two fixed points) does not by any means need to be variable, and in adduced example it is in fact not variable. Conversely, it is quite possible for a quantity merely capable of being taken greater than we have already taken it, and of becoming larger than any pre-assigned (finite) quantity, nevertheless to mean at all times merely finite, which holds in particular of every numerical quantity 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
In other words, for Bolzano there could be a true infinity that was not a variable ‘something’ that was only bigger than anything you might specify. Such a true infinity was the result of joining two pints together and extending that line in both directions without stopping. And what is more, he could separate off the demands of calculus, using a finite quality without ever bothering with the slippery potential infinity. Here was both a deeper understanding of the nature of infinity and the basis on which are built in his ‘safe’ infinity free calculus.
This use of the inexhaustible follows on directly from most Bolzano’s criticism of the way that ∞we used as a variable something that would be bigger than anything you could specify, but never quite reached the true, absolute infinity. In Paradoxes of the Infinity Bolzano points out that is possible for a quantity merely capable of becoming larger than any one pre-assigned (finite) quantity, nevertheless to remain at all times merely finite.
Bolzano intended tis as a criticism of the way infinity was treated, but Professor Jacquette sees it instead of a way of masking use of practical applications like calculus without the need for weasel words about infinity.
By replacing ∞with ¤ we do away with one of the most common requirements for infinity, but is there anything left that map out to the real world? Can we confine infinity to that pure mathematical other world, where anything, however unreal, can be constructed, and forget about it elsewhere? Surprisingly, this seems to have been the view, at least at one point in time, even of the German mathematician and founder of set-theory Georg Cantor (1845-1918), himself, whose comments in 1883, that only the finite numbers are real.
Keeping within the lines of reason, both the Cambridge mathematician and philosopher Frank Plumpton Ramsey (1903-30) and the Italian mathematician G. Peano (1858-1932) have been to distinguish logical paradoxes and that depend upon the notion of reference or truth (semantic notions), such are the postulates justifying mathematical induction. It ensures that a numerical series is closed, in the sense that nothing but zero and its successors can be numbers. In that any series satisfying a set of axioms can be conceived as the sequence of natural numbers. Candidates from set theory include the Zermelo numbers, where the empty set is zero, and the successor of each number is its unit set, and the von Neuman numbers, where each number is the set of all smaller numbers. A similar and equally fundamental complementarity exists in the relation between zero and infinity. Although the fullness of infinity is logically antithetical to the emptiness of zero, infinity can be obtained from zero with a simple mathematical operation. The division of many numbers by zero is infinity, while the multiplication of any number by zero is zero.
With the set theory developed by the German mathematician and logician Georg Cantor. From 1878 to 1807, Cantor created a theory of abstract sets of entities that eventually became a mathematical discipline. A set, as he defined it, is a collection of definite and distinguished objects in thought or perception conceived as a whole.
Cantor attempted to prove that the process of counting and the definition of integers could be placed on a solid mathematical foundation. His method was to repeatedly place the elements in one set into ‘one-to-one’ correspondence with those in another. In the case of integers, Cantor showed that each integer (1, 2, 3, . . . n) could be paired with an even integer (2, 4, 6, . . . n), and, therefore, that the set of all integers was equal to the set of all even numbers.
Amazingly, Cantor discovered that some infinite sets were large than others and that infinite sets formed a hierarchy of greater infinities. After this failed attempt to save the classical view of logical foundations and internal consistency of mathematical systems, it soon became obvious that a major crack had appeared in the seemingly sold foundations of number and mathematics. Meanwhile, an impressive number of mathematicians began to see that everything from functional analysis to the theory of real numbers depended on the problematic character of number itself.
While, in the theory of probability Ramsey was the first to show how a personalised theory could be developed, based on precise behavioural notions of preference and expectation. In the philosophy of language, Ramsey was one of the first thinkers to accept a ‘redundancy theory of truth’, which hr combined with radical views of the function of man y kinds of propositions. Neither generalizations nor causal propositions, nor those treating probability or ethics, describe facts, but each has a different specific function in our intellectual economy.
Ramsey advocates that of a sentence generated by taking all the sentence affirmed in a scientific theory that use some term, e.g., ‘quark’. Replacing the term by a variable, and existentially quantifying into the result. Instead of saying quarks have such-and-such properties, Ramsey postdated that the sentence as saying that there is something that has those properties. If the process is repeated, the sentence gives the ‘topic-neutral’ structure of the theory, but removes any implications that we know what the term so treated denote. I t leaves open the possibility of identifying the theoretical item with whatever it is that best fits the description provided. Nonetheless, it was pointed out by the Cambridge mathematician Newman that if the process is carried out for all except the logical bones of the theory, then by the Löwenheim-Skolem theorem, the result will be interpretable in any domain of sufficient cardinality, and the content of the theory may reasonably be felt to have been lost.
It seems, that the most taken of paradoxes in the foundations of ‘set theory’ as discovered by Russell in 1901. Some classes have themselves as members: The class of all abstract objects, for example, is an abstract object, whereby, others do not: The class of donkeys is not itself a donkey. Now consider the class of all classes that are not members of themselves, is this class a member of itself, that, if it is, then it is not, and if it is not, then it is.
The paradox is structurally similar to easier examples, such as the paradox of the barber. Such one like a village having a barber in it, who shaves all and only the people who do not have in themselves. Who shaves the barber? If he shaves himself, then he does not, but if he does not shave himself, then he does not. The paradox is actually just a proof that there is no such barber or in other words, that the condition is inconsistent. All the same, it is no to easy to say why there is no such class as the one Russell defines. It seems that there must be some restriction on the kind of definition that are allowed to define classes and the difficulty that of finding a well-motivated principle behind any such restriction.
The French mathematician and philosopher Henri Jules Poincaré (1854-1912) believed that paradoses like those of Russell nd the ‘barber’ were due to such as the impredicative definitions, and therefore proposed banning them. But, it tuns out that classical mathematics required such definitions at too many points for the ban to be easily absolved. Having, in turn, as forwarded by Poincaré and Russell, was that in order to solve the logical and semantic paradoxes it would have to ban any collection (set) containing members that can only be defined by means of the collection taken as a whole. It is, effectively by all occurring principles into which have an adopting vicious regress, as to mark the definition for which involves no such failure. There is frequently room for dispute about whether regresses are benign or vicious, since the issue will hinge on whether it is necessary to reapply the procedure. The cosmological argument is an attempt to find a stopping point for what is otherwise seen as being an infinite regress, and, to ban of the predicative definitions.
The investigation of questions that arise from reflection upon sciences and scientific inquiry, are such as called of a philosophy of science. Such questions include, what distinctions in the methods of science? s there a clear demarcation between scenes and other disciplines, and how do we place such enquires as history, economics or sociology? And scientific theories probable or more in the nature of provisional conjecture? Can the be verified or falsified? What distinguished good from bad explanations? Might there be one unified since, embracing all th special science? For much of the 20th century there questions were pursued in a highly abstract and logical framework it being supposed that as general logic of scientific discovery that a general logic of scientific discovery a justification might be found. However, many now take interests in a more historical, contextual and sometimes sociological approach, in which the methods and successes of a science at a particular time are regarded less in terms of universal logical principles and procedure, and more in terms of their availability to methods and paradigms as well as the social context.
In addition, to general questions of methodology, there are specific problems within particular sciences, giving subjects as biology, mathematics and physics.
The intuitive certainty that sparks aflame the dialectic awarenesses for its immediate concerns are either of the truth or by some other in an object of apprehensions, such as a concept. Awareness as such, has to its amounting quality value the place where philosophical understanding of the source of our knowledge are, however, in covering the sensible apprehension of things and pure intuition it is that which stricture sensation into the experience of things accent of its direction that orchestrates the celestial overture into measures in space and time.
The notion that determines how something is seen or evaluated of the status of law and morality especially associated with St Thomas Aquinas and the subsequent scholastic tradition. More widely, any attempt to cement the moral and legal order together with the nature of the cosmos or how the nature of human beings, for which sense it is also found in some Protestant writers, and arguably derivative from a Platonic view of ethics, and is implicit in ancient Stoicism. Law stands above and apart from the activities of human lawmaker, it constitutes an objective set of principles that can be seen true by ‘natural light’ or reason, and (in religion versions of the theory) that express God’s will for creation. Non-religious versions of the theory substitute objective conditions for human flourishing as the source of constraints upon permissible actions and social arrangements. Within the natural law tradition, different views have been held about the relationship between the rule of law about God’ s will, for instance the Dutch philosopher Hugo Grothius (1583-1645), similarly takes upon the view that the content of natural law is independent of any will, including that of God, while the German theorist and historian Samuel von Pufendorf (1632-94) takes the opposite view, thereby facing the problem of one horn of the Euthyphro dilemma, that simply states, that its dilemma arises from whatever the source of authority is supposed to be, for in which do we care about the general good because it is good, or do we just call good things that we care about. Wherefore, by facing the problem that may be to assume of a strong form, in which it is claimed that various facts entail values, or a weaker form, from which it confines itself to holding that reason by itself is capable of discerning moral requirements that are supped of binding to all human bings regardless of their desires
Although the morality of people send the ethical amount from which the same thing, is that there is a usage that restricts morality to systems such as that of the German philosopher and founder of ethical philosophy Immanuel Kant (1724-1804), based on notions such as duty, obligation, and principles of conduct, reserving ethics for more than the Aristotelian approach to practical reasoning based on the notion of a virtue, and generally avoiding the separation of ‘moral’ considerations from other practical considerations. The scholarly issues are complex, with some writers seeing Kant as more Aristotelian and Aristotle as, ore involved in a separate sphere of responsibility and duty, than the simple contrast suggests. Some theorists see the subject in terms of a number of laws (as in the Ten Commandments). The status of these laws may be test they are the edicts of a divine lawmaker, or that they are truths of reason, knowable deductively. Other approaches to ethics (e.g., eudaimonism, situation ethics, virtue ethics) eschew general principles as much as possible, frequently disguising the great complexity of practical reasoning. For Kantian notion of the moral law is a binding requirement of the categorical imperative, and to understand whether they are equivalent at some deep level. Kant’s own applications of the notion are not always convincing, as for one cause of confusion in relating Kant’s ethics to theories such additional expressivism is that it is easy, but mistaken, to suppose that the categorical nature of the imperative means that it cannot be the expression of sentiment, but must derive from something ‘unconditional’ or ‘necessary’ such as the voice of reason.
For which ever reason, the mortal being makes of its presence to the future of weighing of that which one must do, or that which can be required of one. The term carries implications of that which is owed (due) to other people, or perhaps in onself. Universal duties would be owed to persons (or sentient beings) as such, whereas special duty in virtue of specific relations, such as being the child of someone, or having made someone a promise. Duty or obligation is the primary concept of ‘deontological’ approaches to ethics, but is constructed in other systems out of other notions. In the system of Kant, a perfect duty is one that must be performed whatever the circumstances: Imperfect duties may have to give way to the more stringent ones. In another way, perfect duties are those that are correlative with the right to others, imperfect duties are not. Problems with the concept include the ways in which due needs to be specified (a frequent criticism of Kant is that his notion of duty is too abstract). The concept may also suggest of a regimented view of ethical life in which we are all forced conscripts in a kind of moral army, and may encourage an individualistic and antagonistic view of social relations.
The most generally accepted account of externalism and/or internalism, that this distinction is that a theory of justification is internalist if only if it requiem that all of the factors needed for a belief to be epistemologically justified for a given person be cognitively accessible to that person, internal to his cognitive percreptive, and externalist, if it allows that at least some of the justifying factors need not be thus accessible, so that thy can be external to the believer’s cognitive perceptive, beyond any such given relations. However, epistemologists often use the distinction between internalist and externalist theories of epistemic justification without offering any very explicit explication.
The externalist/internalist distinction has been mainly applied to theories of epistemic justification: It has also been applied in a closely related way to accounts of knowledge and in a rather different way to accounts of belief and thought contents.
The internalist requirement of cognitive accessibility can be interpreted in at least two ways: A strong version of internalism would require that the believer actually be aware of the justifying factor in order to be justified: While a weaker version would require only that he be capable of becoming aware of them by focussing his attentions appropriately, but without the need for any change of position, new information, etc. Though the phrase ‘cognitively accessible’ suggests the weak interpretation, the main intuitive motivation for internalism, viz the idea that epistemic justification requires that the believer actually have in his cognitive possession a reason for thinking that the belief is true, and would require the strong interpretation.
Perhaps, the clearest example of an internalist position would be a Foundationalist view according to which foundational beliefs pertain to immediately experienced states of mind and other beliefs are justified by standing in cognitively accessible logical or inferential relations to such foundational beliefs. Such a view could count as either a strong or a weak version of internalism, depending on whether actual awareness of the justifying elements or only the capacity to become aware of them is required. Similarly, a coherent view could also be internalist, if both the beliefs or other states with which a justification belief is required to cohere and the coherence relations themselves are reflectively accessible.
It should be carefully noticed that when internalism is construed in this way, it is neither necessary nor sufficient by itself for internalism that the justifying factors literally be internal mental states of the person in question. Not necessary, necessary, because on at least some views, e.g., a direct realist view of perception, something other than a mental state of the believer can be cognitively accessible: Not sufficient, because there are views according to which at least some mental states need not be actual (strong version) or even possible (weak version) objects of cognitive awareness. Also, on this way of drawing the distinction, a hybrid view, according to which some of the factors required for justification must be cognitively accessible while others need not and in general will not be, would count as an externalist view. Obviously too, a view that was externalist in relation to a strong version of internalism (by not requiring that the believer actually be aware of all justifying factors) could still be internalist in relation to a weak version (by requiring that he at least be capable of becoming aware of them).
The most prominent recent externalist views have been versions of reliabilism, whose requirements for justification is roughly that the belief be produced in a way or via a process that makes of objectively likely that the belief is true. What makes such a view externalist is the absence of any requirement that the person for whom the belief is justified have any sort of cognitive access to the relations of reliability in question. Lacking such access, such a person will in general have no reason for thinking that the belief is true or likely to be true , but will, on such an account, nonetheless be epistemically justified in according it. Thus such a view arguably marks a major break from the modern epistemological tradition, stemming from Descartes, which identifies epistemic justification with having a reason, perhaps even a conclusive reason for thinking that the belief is true. An epistemologist working within this tradition is likely to feel that the externalist, than offering a competing account of the same concept of epistemic justification with which the traditional epistemologist is concerned, has simply changed the subject.
The main objection to externalism rests on the intuitive certainty that the basic requirement for epistemic justification is that the acceptance of the belief in question be rational or responsible in relation to the cognitive goal of truth, which seems to require in turn that the believer actually be dialectally aware of a reason for thinking that the belief is true (or, at the very least, that such a reason be available to him). Since the satisfaction of an externalist condition is neither necessary nor sufficient for the existence of such a cognitively accessible reason, it is argued, externalism is mistaken as an account of epistemic justification. This general point has been elaborated by appeal to two sorts of putative intuitive counter-examples to externalism. The first of these challenges the necessity of belief which seem intuitively to be justified, but for which the externalist conditions are not satisfied. The standard examples in this sort are cases where beliefs are produced in some very nonstandard way, e.g., by a Cartesian demon, but nonetheless, in such a way that the subjective experience of the believer is indistinguishable from that of someone whose beliefs are produced more normally. The intuitive claim is that the believer in such a case is nonetheless epistemically justified, as much so as one whose belief is produced in a more normal way, and hence that externalist account of justification must be mistaken.
Perhaps the most striking reply to this sort of counter-example, on behalf of a cognitive process is to be assessed in ‘normal’ possible worlds, i.e., in possible worlds that are actually the way our world is common-seismically believed to be, than in the world which contains the belief being judged. Since the cognitive processes employed in the Cartesian demon cases are, for which we may assume, reliable when assessed in this way, the reliabilist can agree that such beliefs are justified. The obvious, to a considerable degree of bringing out the issue of whether it is or not an adequate rationale for this construal of reliabilism, so that the reply is not merely a notional presupposition guised as having representation.
The correlative way of elaborating on the general objection to justificatory externalism challenges the sufficiency of the various externalist conditions by citing cases where those conditions are satisfied, but where the believers in question seem intuitively not to be justified. In this context, the most widely discussed examples have to do with possible occult cognitive capacities, like clairvoyance. Considering the point in application once, again, to reliabilism, the claim is that to think that he has such a cognitive power, and, perhaps, even good reasons to the contrary, is not rational or responsible and therefore not epistemically justified in accepting the belief that result from his clairvoyance, despite the fact that the reliablist condition is satisfied.
One sort of response to this latter sorts of objection is to ‘bite the bullet’ and insist that such believers are in fact justified, dismissing the seeming intuitions to the contrary as latent internalist prejudice. A more widely adopted response attempts to impose additional conditions, usually of a roughly internalist sort, which will rule out the offending example, while stopping far of a full internalism. But, while there is little doubt that such modified versions of externalism can handle particular cases, as well enough to avoid clear intuitive implausibility, the usually problematic cases that they cannot handle, and also whether there is and clear motivation for the additional requirements other than the general internalist view of justification that externalist are committed to reject.
A view in this same general vein, one that might be described as a hybrid of internalism and externalism holds that epistemic justification requires that there is a justificatory factor that is cognitively accessible to the believer in question (though it need not be actually grasped), thus ruling out, e.g., a pure reliabilism. At the same time, however, though it must be objectively true that beliefs for which such a factor is available are likely to be true, in addition, the fact need not be in any way grasped or cognitively accessible to the believer. In effect, of the premises needed to argue that a particular belief is likely to be true, one must be accessible in a way that would satisfy at least weak internalism, the internalist will respond that this hybrid view is of no help at all in meeting the objection and has no belief nor is it held in the rational, responsible way that justification intuitively seems to require, for the believer in question, lacking one crucial premise, still has no reason at all for thinking that his belief is likely to be true.
An alternative to giving an externalist account of epistemic justification, one which may be more defensible while still accommodating many of the same motivating concerns, is to give an externalist account of knowledge directly, without relying on an intermediate account of justification. Such a view will obviously have to reject the justified true belief account of knowledge, holding instead that knowledge is true belief which satisfies the chosen externalist condition, e.g., a result of a reliable process (and perhaps, further conditions as well). This makes it possible for such a view to retain internalist account of epistemic justification, though the centrality of that concept to epistemology would obviously be seriously diminished.
Such an externalist account of knowledge can accommodate the commonsense conviction that animals, young children, and unsophisticated adults posses knowledge, though not the weaker conviction (if such a conviction does exists) that such individuals are epistemically justified in their beliefs. It is also at least less vulnerable to internalist counter-examples of the sort discussed, since the intuitions involved there pertain more clearly to justification than to knowledge. What is uncertain is what ultimate philosophical significance the resulting conception of knowledge is supposed to have. In particular, does it have any serious bearing on traditional epistemological problems and on the deepest and most troubling versions of scepticism, which seems in fact to be primarily concerned with justification, th an knowledge?`
A rather different use of the terms ‘internalism’ and ‘externalism’ has to do with the issue of how the content of beliefs and thoughts is determined: According to an internalist view of content, the content of such intention states depends only on the non-relational, internal properties of the individual’s mind or grain, and not at all on his physical and social environment: While according to an externalist view, content is significantly affected by such external factors and suggests a view that appears of both internal and external elements is standardly classified as an external view.
As with justification and knowledge, the traditional view of content has been strongly internalist in character. The main argument for externalism derives from the philosophy y of language, more specifically from the various phenomena pertaining to natural kind terms, indexicals, etc. that motivate the views that have come to be known as ‘direct reference’ theories. Such phenomena seem at least to show that the belief or thought content that can be properly attributed to a person is dependant on facts about his environment-e.g., whether he is on Earth or Twin Earth, what is fact pointing at, the classificatory criteria employed by expects in his social group, etc.-not just on what is going on internally in his mind or brain.
An objection to externalist account of content is that they seem unable to do justice to our ability to know the content of our beliefs or thought ‘from the inside’, simply by reflection. If content is depend on external factors pertaining to the environment, then knowledge of content should depend on knowledge of these factors-which will not in general be available to the person whose belief or thought is in question.
The adoption of an externalist account of mental content would seem to support an externalist account of justification, by way that if part or all of the content of a belief inaccessible to the believer, then both the justifying status of other beliefs in relation to that content and the status of that content ss justifying further beliefs will be similarly inaccessible, thus contravening the internalist requirement for justification. An internalist must insist that there are no justification relations of these sorts, that our internally associable content can either be justified or justly anything else: But such a response appears lame unless it is coupled with an attempt to show that the externalist account of content is mistaken.
In addition, to what to the Foundationalist, but the view in epistemology that knowledge must be regarded as a structure raised upon secure, certain foundations. These are found in some combination of experience and reason, with different schools (empirical, rationalism) emphasizing the role of one over that of the other. Foundationalism was associated with the ancient Stoics, and in the modern era with Descartes, who discovered his foundations in the ‘clear and distinct’ ideas of reason. Its main opponent is coherentism or the view that a body of propositions my be known without as foundation is certain, but by their interlocking strength. Rather as a crossword puzzle may be known to have been solved correctly even if each answer, taken individually, admits of uncertainty.
Truth, alone with coherence is the study of concept, in such a study in philosophy is that it treats both the meaning of the word true and the criteria by which we judge the truth or falsity in spoken and written statements. Philosophers have attempted to answer the question “What is truth?” for thousands of years. The four main theories they have proposed to answer this question are the correspondence, pragmatic, coherence, and deflationary theories of truth.
There are various ways of distinguishing types of foundatinalist epistemology by the use of the variations that have been enumerating. Planntinga has put forward an influence conception of ‘classical foundationalism’, specified in terms of limitations on the foundations. He construes this as a disjunction of ‘ancient and medieval foundationalism;, which takes foundations to comprise that with ‘self-evident’ and ‘evident to the senses’, and ‘modern foundationalism’ that replace ‘evident foundationalism’ that replaces ’evident to the senses’ with the replaces of ‘evident to the senses’ with ‘incorrigibly’, which in practice was taken to apply only to beliefs bout one’s present state of consciousness. Plantinga himself developed this notion in the context of arguing that items outside this territory, in particular certain beliefs about God, could also be immediately justified. A popular recent distinction is between what is variously ‘strong’ or ‘extremely’ foundationlism and ‘moderate’, ‘modest’ or minimalism’ and ‘moderate ‘Modest’ or ‘minimal’ foundationalisn with the distinction depending on whether epistemic immunities are reassured of foundations. While depending on whether it require of a foundation only that it be required of as foundation, that only it be immediately justified, or whether it be immediately justified. In that it make just the comforted preferability, only to suggest that the plausibility of the string requiring stems from both a ‘level confusion’ between beliefs on different levels.
Emerging sceptic tendencies come forth in the 14th-century writings of Nicholas of Autrecourt. His criticisms of any certainty beyond the immediate deliverance of the senses and basic logic, and in particular of any knowledge of either intellectual or material substances, anticipate the later scepticism of Balye and Hume. The; latter distinguishes between Pyrrhonistic and excessive scepticism, which he regarded as unlivable, and the more mitigated scepticism that accepts every day or commonsense beliefs (not as the delivery of reason, but as due more to custom and habit), but is duly wary of the power of reason to give us much more. Mitigated scepticism is thus closer to the attitude fostered by ancient scepticism from Pyrrho through to Sexus Empiricus. Although the phrase ‘Cartesian scepticism’ is sometimes used, Descartes himself was not a sceptic, but in the method of doubt, uses a sceptical scenario in order to begin the process of finding a secure mark of knowledge. Descartes himself trusts a category of ‘clear and distinct’ ideas, not far removed from the phantasia kataleptiké of the Stoics.
Scepticism should not be confused with relativism, which is a doctrine about the nature of truth, and may be motivated by trying to avoid scepticism. Nor is it identical with eliminativism, which counsels abandoning an area of thought together, not because we cannot know the truth, but because there are no truths capable of being framed in the terms we use.
Descartes’s theory of knowledge starts with the quest for certainty, for an indubitable starting-point or foundation on the basis alone of which progress is possible. This is eventually found in the celebrated ‘Cogito ergo sum’: I think therefore I am. By locating the point of certainty in my own awareness of my own self, Descartes gives a first-person twist to the theory of knowledge that dominated them following centuries in spite of various counter-attacks on behalf of social and public starting-points. The metaphysics associated with this priority is the famous Cartesian dualism, or separation of mind and matter into two different but interacting substances, Descartes rigorously and rightly sees that it takes divine dispensation to certify any relationship between the two realms thus divided, and to prove the reliability of the senses invokes a ‘clear and distinct perception’ of highly dubious proofs of the existence of a benevolent deity. This has not met general acceptance: as Hume drily puts it, ‘to have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being, in order to prove the veracity of our senses, is surely making a very unexpected circuit’.
In his own time Descartes’s conception of the entirely separate substance of the mind was recognized to give rise to insoluble problems of the nature of the causal connection between the two. It also gives rise to the problem, insoluble in its own terms, of other minds. Descartes’s notorious denial that non-human animals are conscious is a stark illustration of the problem. In his conception of matter Descartes also gives preference to rational cogitation over anything derived from the senses. Since we can conceive of the matter of a ball of wax surviving changes to its sensible qualities, matter is not an empirical concept, but eventually an entirely geometrical one, with extension and motion as its only physical nature. Descartes’s thought, as reflected in Leibniz, that the qualities of sense experience have no resemblance to qualities of things, so that knowledge of the external world is essentially knowledge of structure rather than of filling. On this basis Descartes erects a remarkable physics. Since matter is in effect the same as extension there can be no empty space or ‘void’, since there is no empty space motion is not a question of occupying previously empty space, but is to be thought of in terms of vortices (like the motion of a liquid).
Although the structure of Descartes’s epistemology, theory of mind, and theory of matter have ben rejected many times, their relentless exposure of the hardest issues, their exemplary clarity, and even their initial plausibility, all contrive to make him the central point of reference for modern philosophy.
The self conceived as Descartes presents it in the first two Meditations: aware only of its own thoughts, and capable of disembodied existence, neither situated in a space nor surrounded by others. This is the pure self of ‘I-ness’ that we are tempted to imagine as a simple unique thing that make up our essential identity. Descartes’s view that he could keep hold of this nugget while doubting everything else is criticized by Lichtenberg and Kant, and most subsequent philosophers of mind.
Descartes holds that we do not have any knowledge of any empirical proposition about anything beyond the contents of our own minds. The reason, roughly put, is that there is a legitimate doubt about all such propositions because there is no way to deny justifiably that our senses are being stimulated by some cause (an evil spirit, for example) which is radically different from the objects that we normally think affect our senses.
He also points out, that the senses (sight, hearing, touch, etc., are often unreliable, and ‘it is prudent never to trust entirely those who have deceived us even once’, he cited such instances as the straight stick that looks ben t in water, and the square tower that looks round from a distance. This argument of illusion, has not, on the whole, impressed commentators, and some of Descartes’ contemporaries pointing out that since such errors become known as a result of further sensory information, it cannot be right to cast wholesale doubt on the evidence of the senses. But Descartes regarded the argument from illusion as only the first stage in a softening up process which would ‘lead the mind away from the senses’. He admits that there are some cases of sense-base belief about which doubt would be insane, e.g., the belief that I am sitting here by the fire, wearing a winter dressing gown’.
Descartes was to realize that there was nothing in this view of nature that could explain or provide a foundation for the mental, or from direct experience as distinctly human. In a mechanistic universe, he said, there is no privileged place or function for mind, and the separation between mind and matter is absolute. Descartes was also convinced, that the immaterial essences that gave form and structure to this universe were coded in geometrical and mathematical ideas, and this insight led him to invent algebraic geometry.
A scientific understanding of these ideas could be derived, said Descartes, with the aid of precise deduction, and he also claimed that the contours of physical reality could be laid out in three-dimensional coordinates. Following the publication of Newton’s Principia Mathematica in 1687, reductionism and mathematical modelling became the most powerful tools of modern science. And the dream that the entire physical world could be known and mastered through the extension and refinement of mathematical theory became the central feature and guiding principle of scientific knowledge.
Having to its recourse of knowledge, its cental questions include the origin of knowledge, the place of experience in generating knowledge, and the place of reason in doing so, the relationship between knowledge and certainty, and between knowledge and the impossibility of error, the possibility of universal scepticism, and the changing forms of knowledge that arise from new conceptualizations of the world. All of these issues link with other central concerns of philosophy, such as the nature of truth and the natures of experience and meaning.
Foundationalism was associated with the ancient Stoics, and in the modern era with Descartes (1596-1650). Who discovered his foundations in the ‘clear and distinct’ ideas of reason? Its main opponent is Coherentism, or the view that a body of propositions mas be known without a foundation in certainty, but by their interlocking strength, than as a crossword puzzle may be known to have been solved correctly even if each answer, taken individually, admits of uncertainty. Difficulties at this point led the logical passivists to abandon the notion of an epistemological foundation altogether, and to flirt with the coherence theory of truth. It is widely accepted that trying to make the connection between thought and experience through basic sentences depends on an untenable ‘myth of the given’.
Still in spite of these concerns, the problem was, of course, in defining knowledge in terms of true beliefs plus some favoured relations between the believer and the facts that began with Plato’s view in the “Theaetetus,” that knowledge is true belief, and some logos. Due of its nonsynthetic epistemology, the enterprising of studying the actual formation of knowledge by human beings, without aspiring to certify those processes as rational, or its proof against ‘scepticism’ or even apt to yield the truth. Natural epistemology would therefore blend into the psychology of learning and the study of episodes in the history of science. The scope for ‘external’ or philosophical reflection of the kind that might result in scepticism or its refutation is markedly diminished. Despite the fact that the terms of modernity are so distinguished as exponents of the approach include Aristotle, Hume, and J. S. Mills.
The task of the philosopher of a discipline would then be to reveal the correct method and to unmask counterfeits. Although this belief lay behind much positivist philosophy of science, few philosophers now subscribe to it. It places too well a confidence in the possibility of a purely previous ‘first philosophy’, or viewpoint beyond that of the work one’s way of practitioners, from which their best efforts can be measured as good or bad. These standpoints now seem that too many philosophers to be a fanciefancy, that the more modest of tasks that are actually adopted at various historical stages of investigation into different areas with the aim not so much of criticizing but more of systematization, in the presuppositions of a particular field at a particular tie. There is still a role for local methodological disputes within the community investigators of some phenomenon, with one approach charging that another is unsound or unscientific, but logic and philosophy will not, on the modern view, provide an independent arsenal of weapons for such battles, which indeed often come to seem more like political bids for ascendancy within a discipline.
This is an approach to the theory of knowledge that sees an important connection between the growth of knowledge and biological evolution. An evolutionary epistemologist claims that the development of human knowledge processed through some natural selection process, the best example of which is Darwin’s theory of biological natural selection. There is a widespread misconception that evolution proceeds according to some plan or direct, but it has neither, and the role of chance ensures that its future course will be unpredictable. Random variations in individual organisms create tiny differences in their Darwinian fitness. Some individuals have more offsprings than others, and the characteristics that increased their fitness thereby become more prevalent in future generations. Once upon a time, at least a mutation occurred in a human population in tropical Africa that changed the haemoglobin molecule in a way that provided resistance to malaria. This enormous advantage caused the new gene to spread, with the unfortunate consequence that sickle-cell anaemia came to exist.
Given that chance, it can influence the outcome at each stage: First, in the creation of genetic mutation, second, in wether the bearer lives long enough to show its effects, thirdly, in chance events that influence the individual’s actual reproductive success, and fourth, in whether a gene even if favoured in one generation, is, happenstance, eliminated in the next, and finally in the many unpredictable environmental changes that will undoubtedly occur in the history of any group of organisms. As Harvard biologist Stephen Jay Gould has so vividly expressed that process over again, the outcome would surely be different. Not only might there not be humans, there might not even be anything like mammals.
We will often emphasis the elegance of traits shaped by natural selection, but the common idea that nature creates perfection needs to be analysed carefully. The extent to which evolution achieves perfection depends on exactly what you mean. If you mean “Does natural selections always take the best path for the long-term welfare of a species?” The answer is no. That would require adaption by group selection, and this is, unlikely. If you mean “Does natural selection creates every adaption that would be valuable?” The answer again, is no. For instance, some kinds of South American monkeys can grasp branches with their tails. The trick would surely also be useful to some African species, but, simply because of bad luck, none have it. Some combination of circumstances started some ancestral South American monkeys using their tails in ways that ultimately led to an ability to grab onto branches, while no such development took place in Africa. Mere usefulness of a trait does not necessitate a means in that what will understandably endure phylogenesis or evolution.
This is an approach to the theory of knowledge that sees an important connection between the growth of knowledge and biological evolution. An evolutionary epistemologist claims that the development of human knowledge proceeds through some natural selection process, the best example of which is Darwin’s theory of biological natural selection. The three major components of the model of natural selection are variation selection and retention. According to Darwin’s theory of natural selection, variations are not pre-designed to do certain functions. Rather, these variations that do useful functions are selected. While those that do not employ of some coordinates in that are regainfully purposed are also, not to any of a selection, as duly influenced of such a selection, that may have responsibilities for the visual aspects of variational intentionally occurs. In the modern theory of evolution, genetic mutations provide the blind variations: Blind in the sense that variations are not influenced by the effects they would have-the likelihood of a mutation is not correlated with the benefits or liabilities that mutation would confer on the organism, the environment provides the filter of selection, and reproduction provides the retention. Fatnesses are achieved because those organisms with features that make them less adapted for survival do not survive in connection with other organisms in the environment that have features that are better adapted. Evolutionary epistemology applies this blind variation and selective retention model to the growth of scientific knowledge and to human thought processes overall.
The parallel between biological evolution and conceptual or ‘epistemic’ evolution can be seen as either literal or analogical. The literal version of evolutionary epistemology deeds biological evolution as the main cause of the growth of knowledge. On this view, called the ‘evolution of cognitive mechanic programs’, by Bradie (1986) and the ‘Darwinian approach to epistemology’ by Ruse (1986), that growth of knowledge occurs through blind variation and selective retention because biological natural selection itself is the cause of epistemic variation and selection. The most plausible version of the literal view does not hold that all human beliefs are innate but rather than the mental mechanisms that guide the acquisitions of non-innate beliefs are themselves innately and the result of biological natural selection. Ruse, (1986) demands of a version of literal evolutionary epistemology that he links to sociolology (Rescher, 1990).
On the analogical version of evolutionary epistemology, called the ‘evolution of theory’s program’, by Bradie (1986). The ‘Spenserians approach’ (after the nineteenth century philosopher Herbert Spencer) by Ruse (1986), the development of human knowledge is governed by a process analogous to biological natural selection, rather than by an instance of the mechanism itself. This version of evolutionary epistemology, introduced and elaborated by Donald Campbell (1974) as well as Karl Popper, sees the [partial] fit between theories and the world as explained by a mental process of trial and error known as epistemic natural selection.
Both versions of evolutionary epistemology are usually taken to be types of naturalized epistemology, because both take some empirical facts as a starting point for their epistemological project. The literal version of evolutionary epistemology begins by accepting evolutionary theory and a materialist approach to the mind and, from these, constructs an account of knowledge and its developments. In contrast, the metaphorical version does not require the truth of biological evolution: It simply draws on biological evolution as a source for the model of natural selection. For this version of evolutionary epistemology to be true, the model of natural selection need only apply to the growth of knowledge, not to the origin and development of species. Crudely put, evolutionary epistemology of the analogical sort could still be true even if Creationism is the correct theory of the origin of species.
Although they do not begin by assuming evolutionary theory, most analogical evolutionary epistemologists are naturalized epistemologists as well, their empirical assumptions, least of mention, implicitly come from psychology and cognitive science, not evolutionary theory. Sometimes, however, evolutionary epistemology is characterized in a seemingly non-naturalistic fashion. Campbell (1974) says that ‘if one is expanding knowledge beyond what one knows, one has no choice but to explore without the benefit of wisdom’, i.e., blindly. This, Campbell admits, makes evolutionary epistemology close to being a tautology (and so not naturalistic). Evolutionary epistemology does assert the analytic claim that when expanding one’s knowledge beyond what one knows, one must precessed to something that is already known, but, more interestingly, it also makes the synthetic claim that when expanding one’s knowledge beyond what one knows, one must proceed by blind variation and selective retention. This claim is synthetic because it can be empirically falsified. The central claim of evolutionary epistemology is synthetic, not analytic. If the central contradictory, which they are not. Campbell is right that evolutionary epistemology does have the analytic feature he mentions, but he is wrong to think that this is a distinguishing feature, since any plausible epistemology has the same analytic feature (Skagestad, 1978).
Two extraordinary issues lie to awaken the literature that involves questions about ‘realism’, i.e., What metaphysical commitment does an evolutionary epistemologist have to make? Progress, i.e., according to evolutionary epistemology, does knowledge develop toward a goal? With respect to realism, many evolutionary epistemologists endorse that is called ‘hypothetical realism’, a view that combines a version of epistemological ‘scepticism’ and tentative acceptance of metaphysical realism. With respect to progress, the problem is that biological evolution is not goal-directed, but the growth of human knowledge seems to be. Campbell (1974) worries about the potential dis-analogy here but is willing to bite the stone of conscience and admit that epistemic evolution progress toward a goal (truth) while biologic evolution does not. Many another has argued that evolutionary epistemologists must give up the ‘truth-topic’ sense of progress because a natural selection model is in essence, is non-teleological, as an alternative, following Kuhn (1970), and embraced in the accompaniment with evolutionary epistemology.
Among the most frequent and serious criticisms levelled against evolutionary epistemology is that the analogical version of the view is false because epistemic variation is not blind (Skagestad, 1978), and (Ruse, 1986) including, (Stein and Lipton, 1990) all have argued, nonetheless, that this objection fails because, while epistemic variation is not random, its constraints come from heuristics that, for the most part, are selective retention. Further, Stein and Lipton come to the conclusion that heuristics are analogous to biological pre-adaptions, evolutionary pre-biological pre-adaptions, evolutionary cursors, such as a half-wing, a precursor to a wing, which have some function other than the function of their descendable structures: The function of descendable structures, the function of their descendable character embodied to its structural foundations, is that of the guidelines of epistemic variation is, on this view, not the source of disanalogy, but the source of a more articulated account of the analogy.
Many evolutionary epistemologists try to combine the literal and the analogical versions (Bradie, 1986, and Stein and Lipton, 1990), saying that those beliefs and cognitive mechanisms, which are innate results from natural selection of the biological sort and those that are innate results from natural selection of the epistemic sort. This is reasonable as long as the two parts of this hybrid view are kept distinct. An analogical version of evolutionary epistemology with biological variation as its only source of blondeness would be a null theory: This would be the case if all our beliefs are innate or if our non-innate beliefs are not the result of blind variation. An appeal to the legitimate way to produce a hybrid version of evolutionary epistemology since doing so trivializes the theory. For similar reasons, such an appeal will not save an analogical version of evolutionary epistemology from arguments to the effect that epistemic variation is blind (Stein and Lipton, 1990).
Although it is a new approach to theory of knowledge, evolutionary epistemology has attracted much attention, primarily because it represents a serious attempt to flesh out a naturalized epistemology by drawing on several disciplines. In science is relevant to understanding the nature and development of knowledge, then evolutionary theory is among the disciplines worth a look. Insofar as evolutionary epistemology looks there, it is an interesting and potentially fruitful epistemological programme.
What makes a belief justified and what makes a true belief knowledge? Thinking that whether a belief deserves one of these appraisals is natural depends on what caused the depicted branch of knowledge to have the belief. In recent decades a number of epistemologists have pursued this plausible idea with a variety of specific proposals. Some causal theories of knowledge have it that a true belief that ‘p’ is knowledge just in case it has the right causal connection to the fact that ‘p’. Such a criterion can be applied only to cases where the fact that ‘p’ is a sort that can reach causal relations, as this seems to exclude mathematically and there necessary facts and perhaps any fact expressed by a universal generalization, and proponents of this sort of criterion have usually supposed that it is limited to perceptual representations where knowledge of particular facts about subjects’ environments.
For example, Armstrong (1973), predetermined that a position held by a belief in the form ‘This perceived object is ‘F’ is [non-inferential] knowledge if and only if the belief is a completely reliable sign that the perceived object is ‘F’, that is, the fact that the object is ‘F’ contributed to causing the belief and its doing so depended on properties of the believer such that the laws of nature dictated that, for any subject ‘χ’ and perceived object ‘y’, if ‘χ’ has those properties and believed that ‘y’ is ‘F’, then ‘y’ is ‘F’. (Dretske (1981) offers a rather similar account, in terms of the belief’s being caused by a signal received by the perceiver that carries the information that the object is ‘F’).
Goldman (1986) has proposed an importantly different causal criterion, namely, that a true belief is knowledge if it is produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ and ‘locally’ reliable. Causing true beliefs is sufficiently high is globally reliable if its propensity. Local reliability has to do with whether the process would have produced a similar but false belief in certain counterfactual situations alternative to the actual situation. This way of marking off true beliefs that are knowledge does not require the fact believed to be causally related to the belief, and so it could in principle apply to knowledge of any kind of truth.
Goldman requires the global reliability of the belief-producing process for the justification of a belief, he requires it also for knowledge because justification is required for knowledge. What he requires for knowledge, but does not require for justification is local reliability. His idea is that a justified true belief is knowledge if the type of process that produced it would not have produced it in any relevant counterfactual situation in which it is false. Its purported theory of relevant alternatives can be viewed as an attempt to provide a more satisfactory response to this tension in our thinking about knowledge. It attempts to characterize knowledge in a way that preserves both our belief that knowledge is an absolute concept and our belief that we have knowledge.
According to the theory, we need to qualify rather than deny the absolute character of knowledge. We should view knowledge as absolute, reactive to certain standards (Dretske, 1981 and Cohen, 1988). That is to say, in order to know a proposition, our evidence need not eliminate all the alternatives to that preposition, rather for ‘us’, that we can know our evidence eliminates al the relevant alternatives, where the set of relevant alternatives (a proper subset of the set of all alternatives) is determined by some standard. Moreover, according to the relevant alternatives view, and the standards determining that of the alternatives is raised by the sceptic are not relevant. If this is correct, then the fact that our evidence cannot eliminate the sceptic’s alternative does not lead to a sceptical result. For knowledge requires only the elimination of the relevant alternatives, so the relevant alternative view preserves in both strands in our thinking about knowledge. Knowledge is an absolute concept, but because the absoluteness is relative to a standard, we can know many things.
The interesting thesis that counts as a causal theory of justification (in the meaning of ‘causal theory’ intended here) are that: A belief is justified in case it was produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ reliable, that is, its propensity to produce true beliefs-that can be defined (to a good approximation) As the proportion of the beliefs it produces (or would produce) that is true is sufficiently great.
This proposal will be adequately specified only when we are told (I) how much of the causal history of a belief counts as part of the process that produced it, (ii) which of the many types to which the process belongs is the type for purposes of assessing its reliability, and (iii) relative to why the world or worlds are the reliability of the process type to be assessed the actual world, the closet worlds containing the case being considered, or something else? Let ‘us’ look at the answers suggested by Goldman, the leading proponent of a reliabilist account of justification.
(1) Goldman (1979, 1986) takes the relevant belief producing process to include only the proximate causes internal to the believer. So, for instance, when recently I believed that the telephone was ringing the process that produced the belief, for purposes of assessing reliability, includes just the causal chain of neural events from the stimulus in my ear’s inward ands other concurrent brain states on which the production of the belief depended: It does not include any events’ I the telephone, or the sound waves travelling between it and my ears, or any earlier decisions I made that were responsible for my being within hearing distance of the telephone at that time. It does seem intuitively plausible of a belief depends should be restricted to internal omnes proximate to the belief. Why? Goldman does not tell ‘us’. One answer that some philosophers might give is that it is because a belief’s being justified at a given time can depend only on facts directly accessible to the believer’s awareness at that time (for, if a believer ought to holds only beliefs that are justified, she can tell at any given time what beliefs would then be justified for her). However, this cannot be Goldman’s answer because he wishes to include in the relevantly process neural events that are not directly accessible to consciousness.
(2) Once the reliabilist has told ‘us’ how to delimit the process producing a belief, he needs to tell ‘us’ which of the many types to which it belongs is the relevant type. Coincide, for example, the process that produces your current belief that you see a book before you. One very broad type to which that process belongs would be specified by ‘coming to a belief as to something one perceives as a result of activation of the nerve endings in some of one’s sense-organs’. A constricted type, in which that unvarying processes belong would be specified by ‘coming to a belief as to what one sees as a result of activation of the nerve endings in one’s retinas’. A still narrower type would be given by inserting in the last specification a description of a particular pattern of activation of the retina’s particular cells. Which of these or other types to which the token process belongs is the relevant type for determining whether the type of process that produced your belief is reliable?
If we select a type that is too broad, as having the same degree of justification various beliefs that intuitively seem to have different degrees of justification. Thus the broadest type we specified for your belief that you see a book before you apply also to perceptual beliefs where the object seen is far away and seen only briefly is less justified. On the other hand, is we are allowed to select a type that is as narrow as we please, then we make it out that an obviously unjustified but true belief is produced by a reliable type of process. For example, suppose I see a blurred shape through the fog far in a field and unjustifiedly, but correctly, believe that it is a sheep: If we include enough details about my retinal image is specifying te type of the visual process that produced that belief, we can specify a type is likely to have only that one instanced and is therefore 100 percent reliable. Goldman conjectures (1986) that the relevant process type is ‘the narrowest type that is casually operative’. Presumably, a feature of the process producing beliefs were causally operatives in producing it just in case some alternative feature instead, but it would not have led to that belief. (We need to say ‘some’ here rather than ‘any’, because, for example, when I see an oak or pine tree, the particular ‘like-minded’ material bodies of my retinal image is causably clearly toward the operatives in producing my belief that what is seen as a tree, even though there are alternative shapes, for example, ‘pineish’ or ‘birchness’ ones, that would have produced the same belief.)
(3) Should the justification of a belief in a hypothetical, non-actual example turn on the reliability of the belief-producing process in the possible world of the example? That leads to the implausible result in that in a world run by a Cartesian demon-a powerful being who causes the other inhabitants of the world to have rich and coherent sets of perceptual and memory impressions that are all illusory the perceptual and memory beliefs of the other inhabitants are all unjustified, for they are produced by processes that are, in that world, quite unreliable. If we say instead that it is the reliability of the processes in the actual world that matters, we get the equally undesired result that if the actual world is a demon world then our perceptual and memory beliefs are all unjustified.
Goldman’s solution (1986) is that the reliability of the process types is to be gauged by their performance in ‘normal’ worlds, that is, worlds consistent with ‘our general beliefs about the world . . . ‘about the sorts of objects, events and changes that occur in it’. This gives the intuitively right results for the problem cases just considered, but indicate by inference an implausible proportion of making compensations for alternative tending toward justification. If there are people whose general beliefs about the world are very different from mine, then there may, on this account, be beliefs that I can correctly regard as justified (ones produced by processes that are reliable in what I take to be a normal world) but that they can correctly regard as not justified.
However, these questions about the specifics are dealt with, and there are reasons for questioning the basic idea that the criterion for a belief’s being justified is its being produced by a reliable process. Thus and so, doubt about the sufficiency of the reliabilist criterion is prompted by a sort of example that Goldman himself uses for another purpose. Suppose that being in brain-state ‘B’ always causes one to believe that one is in brained-state ‘B’. Here the reliability of the belief-producing process is perfect, but ‘we can readily imagine circumstances in which a person goes into grain-state ‘B’ and therefore has the belief in question, though this belief is by no means justified’ (Goldman, 1979). Doubt about the necessity of the condition arises from the possibility that one might know that one has strong justification for a certain belief and yet that knowledge is not what actually prompts one to believe. For example, I might be well aware that, having read the weather bureau’s forecast that it will be much hotter tomorrow. I have ample reason to be confident that it will be hotter tomorrow, but I irrationally refuse to believe it until Wally tells me that he feels in his joints that it will be hotter tomorrow. Here what prompts me to believe dors not justify my belief, but my belief is nevertheless justified by my knowledge of the weather bureau’s prediction and of its evidential force: I can advert to any disavowable inference that I ought not to be holding the belief. Indeed, given my justification and that there is nothing untoward about the weather bureau’s prediction, my belief, if true, can be counted knowledge. This sorts of example raises doubt whether any causal conditions, are it a reliable process or something else, is necessary for either justification or knowledge.
Philosophers and scientists alike, have often held that the simplicity or parsimony of a theory is one reason, all else being equal, to view it as true. This goes beyond the unproblematic idea that simpler theories are easier to work with and gave greater aesthetic appeal.
One theory is more parsimonious than another when it postulates fewer entities, processes, changes or explanatory principles: The simplicity of a theory depends on essentially the same consecrations, though parsimony and simplicity obviously become the same. Demanding clarification of what makes one theory simpler or more parsimonious is plausible than another before the justification of these methodological maxims can be addressed.
If we set this description problem to one side, the major normative problem is as follows: What reason is there to think that simplicity is a sign of truth? Why should we accept a simpler theory instead of its more complex rivals? Newton and Leibniz thought that the answer was to be found in a substantive fact about nature. In “Principia,” Newton laid down as his first Rule of Reasoning in Philosophy that ‘nature does nothing in vain . . . ‘for Nature is pleased with simplicity and affects not the pomp of superfluous causes’. Leibniz hypothesized that the actual world obeys simple laws because God’s taste for simplicity influenced his decision about which world to actualize.
The tragedy of the Western mind, described by Koyré, is a direct consequence of the stark Cartesian division between mind and world. We discovered the ‘certain principles of physical reality’, said Descartes, ‘not by the prejudices of the senses, but by the light of reason, and which thus possess so great evidence that we cannot doubt of their truth’. Since the real, or that which actually exists external to ourselves, was in his view only that which could be represented in the quantitative terms of mathematics, Descartes conclude that all quantitative aspects of reality could be traced to the deceitfulness of the senses.
The most fundamental aspect of the Western intellectual tradition is the assumption that there is a fundamental division between the material and the immaterial world or between the realm of matter and the realm of pure mind or spirit. The metaphysical frame-work based on this assumption is known as ontological dualism. As the word dual implies, the framework is predicated on an ontology, or a conception of the nature of God or Being, that assumes reality has two distinct and separable dimensions. The concept of Being as continuous, immutable, and having a prior or separate existence from the world of change dates from the ancient Greek philosopher Parmenides. The same qualities were associated with the God of the Judeo-Christian tradition, and they were considerably amplified by the role played in theology by Platonic and Neoplatonic philosophy.
Nicolas Copernicus, Galileo, Johannes Kepler, and Isaac Newton were all inheritors of a cultural tradition in which ontological dualism was a primary article of faith. Hence the idealization of the mathematical ideal as a source of communion with God, which dates from Pythagoras, provided a metaphysical foundation for the emerging natural sciences. This explains why, the creators of classical physics believed that doing physics was a form of communion with the geometrical and mathematical forms’ resident in the perfect mind of God. This view would survive in a modified form in what is now known as Einsteinian epistemology and accounts in no small part for the reluctance of many physicists to accept the epistemology associated with the Copenhagen Interpretation.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Pierre-Sinon LaPlace, along with a number of other French mathematicians, advanced the view that the science of mechanics constituted a complete view of nature. Since this science, by observing its epistemology, had revealed itself to be the fundamental science, the hypothesis of God was, they concluded, entirely unnecessary.
LaPlace is recognized for eliminating not only the theological component of classical physics but the ‘entire metaphysical component’ as well’. The epistemology of science requires, he said, that we proceed by inductive generalizations from observed facts to hypotheses that are ‘tested by observed conformity of the phenomena’. What was unique about LaPlace’s view of hypotheses was his insistence that we cannot attribute reality to them. Although concepts like force, mass, motion, cause, and laws are obviously present in classical physics, they exist in LaPlace’s view only as quantities. Physics is concerned, he argued, with quantities that we associate as a matter of convenience with concepts, and the truths about nature are only the quantities.
As this view of hypotheses and the truths of nature as quantities was extended in the nineteenth century to a mathematical description of phenomena like heat, light, electricity, and magnetism. LaPlace’s assumptions about the actual character of scientific truths seemed correct. This progress suggested that if we could remove all thoughts about the ‘nature of’ or the ‘source of’ phenomena, the pursuit of strictly quantitative concepts would bring us to a complete description of all aspects of physical reality. Subsequently, figures like Comte, Kirchhoff, Hertz, and Poincaré developed a program for the study of nature hat was quite different from that of the original creators of classical physics.
The seventeenth-century view of physics as a philosophy of nature or as natural philosophy was displaced by the view of physics as an autonomous science that was ‘the science of nature’. This view, which was premised on the doctrine of positivism, promised to subsume all of nature with a mathematical analysis of entities in motion and claimed that the true understanding of nature was revealed only in the mathematical description. Since the doctrine of positivism assumes that the knowledge we call physics resides only in the mathematical formalism of physical theory, it disallows the prospect that the vision of physical reality revealed in physical theory can have any other meaning. In the history of science, the irony is that positivism, which was intended to banish metaphysical concerns from the domain of science, served to perpetuate a seventeenth-century metaphysical assumption about the relationship between physical reality and physical theory.
Epistemology since Hume and Kant has drawn back from this theological underpinning. Indeed, the very idea that nature is simple (or uniform) has come in for a critique. The view has taken hold that a preference for simple and parsimonious hypotheses is purely methodological: It is constitutive of the attitude we call ‘scientific’ and makes no substantive assumption about the way the world is.
A variety of otherwise diverse twentieth-century philosophers of science have attempted, in different ways, to flesh out this position. Two examples must suffice here: Hesse (1969) as, for summaries of other proposals. Popper (1959) holds that scientists should prefer highly falsifiable (improbable) theories: He tries to show that simpler theories are more falsifiable, also Quine (1966), in contrast, sees a virtue in theories that are highly probable, he argues for a general connection between simplicity and high probability.
Both these proposals are global. They attempt to explain why simplicity should be part of the scientific method in a way that spans all scientific subject matters. No assumption about the details of any particular scientific problem serves as a premiss in Popper’s or Quine’s arguments.
Newton and Leibniz thought that the justification of parsimony and simplicity flows from the hand of God: Popper and Quine try to justify these methodologically median of importance is without assuming anything substantive about the way the world is. In spite of these differences in approach, they have something in common. They assume that all users of parsimony and simplicity in the separate sciences can be encompassed in a single justifying argument. That recent developments in confirmation theory suggest that this assumption should be scrutinized. Good (1983) and Rosenkrantz (1977) has emphasized the role of auxiliary assumptions in mediating the connection between hypotheses and observations. Whether a hypothesis is well supported by some observations, or whether one hypothesis is better supported than another by those observations, crucially depends on empirical background assumptions about the inference problem here. The same view applies to the idea of prior probability (or, prior plausibility). In of a single hypo-physical science if chosen as an alternative to another even though they are equally supported by current observations, this must be due to an empirical background assumption.
Principles of parsimony and simplicity mediate the epistemic connection between hypotheses and observations. Perhaps these principles are able to do this because they are surrogates for an empirical background theory. It is not that there is one background theory presupposed by every appeal to parsimony; This has the quantifier order backwards. Rather, the suggestion is that each parsimony argument is justified only to each degree that it reflects an empirical background theory about the subjective matter. On this theory is brought out into the open, but the principle of parsimony is entirely dispensable (Sober, 1988).
This ‘local’ approach to the principles of parsimony and simplicity resurrects the idea that they make sense only if the world is one way rather than another. It rejects the idea that these maxims are purely methodological. How defensible this point of view is, will depend on detailed case studies of scientific hypothesis evaluation and on further developments in the theory of scientific inference.
It is usually not found of one and the same that, an inference is a (perhaps very complex) act of thought by virtue of which act (1) I pass from a set of one or more propositions or statements to a proposition or statement and (2) it appears that the latter are true if the former is or are. This psychological characterization has occurred over a wider summation of literature under more lesser than inessential variations. Desiring a better characterization of inference is natural. Yet attempts to do so by constructing a fuller psychological explanation fail to comprehend the grounds on which inference will be objectively valid-A point elaborately made by Gottlob Frége. Attempts to understand the nature of inference through the device of the representation of inference by formal-logical calculations or derivations better (1) leave ‘us’ puzzled about the relation of formal-logical derivations to the informal inferences they are supposedly to represent or reconstruct, and (2) leaves ‘us’ worried about the sense of such formal derivations. Are these derivations inference? Are not informal inferences needed in order to apply the rules governing the constructions of formal derivations (inferring that this operation is an application of that formal rule)? These are concerns cultivated by, for example, Wittgenstein.
Coming up with an adequate characterized inferences, and even working out what would count as a very adequate characterization here is demandingly by no means nearly some resolved philosophical problem.
Traditionally, a proposition that is not a ‘conditional’, as with the ‘affirmative’ and ‘negative’, modern opinion is wary of the distinction, since what appears categorical may vary with the choice of a primitive vocabulary and notation. Apparently categorical propositions may also turn out to be disguised conditionals: ‘X’ is intelligent (categorical?) Equivalent, if ‘X’ is given a range of tasks, she does them better than many people (conditional?). The problem is not merely one of classification, since deep metaphysical questions arise when facts that seem to be categorical and therefore solid, come to seem by contrast conditional, or purely hypothetical or potential.
Its condition of some classified necessity is so proven sufficient that if ‘p’ is a necessary condition of ‘q’, then ‘q’ cannot be true unless ‘p’; is true? If ‘p’ is a sufficient condition, thus steering well is a necessary condition of driving in a satisfactory manner, but it is not sufficient, for one can steer well but drive badly for other reasons. Confusion may result if the distinction is not heeded. For example, the statement that ‘A’ causes ‘B’ may be interpreted to mean that ‘A’ is itself a sufficient condition for ‘B’, or that it is only a necessary condition fort ‘B’, or perhaps a necessary parts of a total sufficient condition. Lists of conditions to be met for satisfying some administrative or legal requirement frequently attempt to give individually necessary and jointly sufficient sets of conditions.
What is more, that if any proposition of the form ‘if p then q’. The condition hypothesized, ‘p’. Is called the antecedent of the conditionals, and ‘q’, the consequent? Various kinds of conditional have been distinguished. Its weakest is that of ‘material implication’, merely telling that either ‘not-p’, or ‘q’. Stronger conditionals include elements of ‘modality’, corresponding to the thought that ‘if p is truer then q must be true’. Ordinary language is very flexible in its use of the conditional form, and there is controversy whether conditionals are better treated semantically, yielding differently finds of conditionals with different meanings, or pragmatically, in which case there should be one basic meaning with surface differences arising from other implicatures.
It follows from the definition of ‘strict implication’ that a necessary proposition is strictly implied by any proposition, and that an impossible proposition strictly implies any proposition. If strict implication corresponds to ‘q follows from p’, then this means that a necessary proposition follows from anything at all, and anything at all follows from an impossible proposition. This is a problem if we wish to distinguish between valid and invalid arguments with necessary conclusions or impossible premises.
The Humean problem of induction is that if we would suppose that there is some property ‘A’ concerning and observational or an experimental situation, and that out of a large number of observed instances of ‘A’, some fraction m/n (possibly equal to 1) has also been instances of some logically independent property ‘B’. Suppose further that the background proportionate circumstances not specified in these descriptions have been varied to a substantial degree and that there is no collateral information available concerning the frequency of ‘B’s’ among ‘A’s or concerning causal or nomologically connections between instances of ‘A’ and instances of ‘B’.
In this situation, an ‘enumerative’ or ‘instantial’ induction inference would move rights from the premise, that m/n of observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ to the conclusion that approximately m/n of all ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s. (The usual probability qualification will be assumed to apply to the inference, rather than being part of the conclusion.) Here the class of ‘A’s’ should be taken to include not only unobserved ‘A’s’ and future ‘A’s’, but also possible or hypothetical ‘A’s’ (an alternative conclusion would concern the probability or likelihood of the adjacently observed ‘A’ being a ‘B’).
The traditional or Humean problem of induction, often referred to simply as ‘the problem of induction’, is the problem of whether and why inferences that fit this schema should be considered rationally acceptable or justified from an epistemic or cognitive standpoint, i.e., whether and why reasoning in this way is likely to lead to true claims about the world. Is there any sort of argument or rationale that can be offered for thinking that conclusions reached in this way are likely to be true in the corresponding premisses is true ‒or even that their chances of truth are significantly enhanced?
Hume’s discussion of this issue deals explicitly only with cases where all observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ and his argument applies just as well to the more general case. His conclusion is entirely negative and sceptical: Inductive inferences are not rationally justified, but are instead the result of an essentially a-rational process, custom or habit. Hume (1711-76) challenges the proponent of induction to supply a cogent line of reasoning that leads from an inductive premise to the corresponding conclusion and offers an extremely influential argument in the form of a dilemma (a few times referred to as ‘Hume’s fork’), that either our actions are determined, in which case we are not responsible for them, or they are the result of random events, under which case we are also not responsible for them.
Such reasoning would, he argues, have to be either deductively demonstrative reasoning in the concerning relations of ideas or ‘experimental’, i.e., empirical, that reasoning concerning matters of fact or existence. It cannot be the former, because all demonstrative reasoning relies on the avoidance of contradiction, and it is not a contradiction to suppose that ‘the course of nature may change’, that an order that was observed in the past and not of its continuing against the future: But it cannot be, as the latter, since any empirical argument would appeal to the success of such reasoning about an experience, and the justifiability of generalizing from experience are precisely what is at issue-so that any such appeal would be question-begging. Hence, Hume concludes that there can be no such reasoning (1748).
An alternative version of the problem may be obtained by formulating it with reference to the so-called Principle of Induction, which says roughly that the future will resemble the past or, somewhat better, that unobserved cases will resemble observed cases. An inductive argument may be viewed as enthymematic, with this principle serving as a supposed premiss, in which case the issue is obviously how such a premiss can be justified. Hume’s argument is then that no such justification is possible: The principle cannot be justified a prior because having possession of been true in experiences without obviously begging the question is not contradictory to have possession of been true in experiences without obviously begging the question.
The predominant recent responses to the problem of induction, at least in the analytic tradition, in effect accept the main conclusion of Hume’s argument, namely, that inductive inferences cannot be justified in the sense of showing that the conclusion of such an inference is likely to be true if the premise is true, and thus attempt to find another sort of justification for induction. Such responses fall into two main categories: (I) Pragmatic justifications or ‘vindications’ of induction, mainly developed by Hans Reichenbach (1891-1953), and (ii) ordinary language justifications of induction, whose most important proponent is Frederick, Peter Strawson (1919-). In contrast, some philosophers still attempt to reject Hume’s dilemma by arguing either (iii) That, contrary to appearances, induction can be inductively justified without vicious circularity, or (iv) that an anticipatory justification of induction is possible after all. In that:
(1) Reichenbach’s view is that induction is best regarded, not as a form of inference, but rather as a ‘method’ for arriving at posits regarding, i.e., the proportion of ‘A’s’ remain additionally of ‘B’s’. Such a posit is not a claim asserted to be true, but is instead an intellectual wager analogous to a bet made by a gambler. Understood in this way, the inductive method says that one should posit that the observed proportion is, within some measure of an approximation, the true proportion and then continually correct that initial posit as new information comes in.
The gambler’s bet is normally an ‘appraised posit’, i.e., he knows the chances or odds that the outcome on which he bets will actually occur. In contrast, the inductive bet is a ‘blind posit’: We do not know the chances that it will succeed or even that success is that it will succeed or even that success is possible. What we are gambling on when we make such a bet is the value of a certain proportion in the independent world, which Reichenbach construes as the limit of the observed proportion as the number of cases increases to infinity. Nevertheless, we have no way of knowing that there are even such a limit, and no way of knowing that the proportion of ‘A’s’ are in addition of ‘B’s’ converges in the end on some stable value than varying at random. If we cannot know that this limit exists, then we obviously cannot know that we have any definite chance of finding it.
What we can know, according to Reichenbach, is that ‘if’ there is a truth of this sort to be found, the inductive method will eventually find it’. That this is so is an analytic consequence of Reichenbach’s account of what it is for such a limit to exist. The only way that the inductive method of making an initial posit and then refining it in light of new observations can fail eventually to arrive at the true proportion is if the series of observed proportions never converges on any stable value, which means that there is no truth to be found pertaining the proportion of ‘A’s additionally constitute ‘B’s’. Thus, induction is justified, not by showing that it will succeed or indeed, that it has any definite likelihood of success, but only by showing that it will succeed if success is possible. Reichenbach’s claim is that no more than this can be established for any method, and hence that induction gives ‘us’ our best chance for success, our best gamble in a situation where there is no alternative to gambling.
This pragmatic response to the problem of induction faces several serious problems. First, there are indefinitely many other ‘methods’ for arriving at posits for which the same sort of defence can be given-methods that yield the same result as the inductive method over time but differ arbitrarily before long. Despite the efforts of others, it is unclear that there is any satisfactory way to exclude such alternatives, in order to avoid the result that any arbitrarily chosen short-term posit is just as reasonable as the inductive posit. Second, even if there is a truth of the requisite sort to be found, the inductive method is only guaranteed to find it or even to come within any specifiable distance of it in the indefinite long run. All the same, any actual application of inductive results always takes place in the presence to the future eventful states in making the relevance of the pragmatic justification to actual practice uncertainly. Third, and most important, it needs to be emphasized that Reichenbach’s response to the problem simply accepts the claim of the Humean sceptic that an inductive premise never provides the slightest reason for thinking that the corresponding inductive conclusion is true. Reichenbach himself is quite candid on this point, but this does not alleviate the intuitive implausibility of saying that we have no more reason for thinking that our scientific and commonsense conclusions that result in the induction of it ‘ . . . is true’ than, to use Reichenbach’s own analogy (1949), a blind man wandering in the mountains who feels an apparent trail with his stick has for thinking that following it will lead him to safety.
An approach to induction resembling Reichenbach’s claiming in that those particular inductive conclusions are posits or conjectures, than the conclusions of cogent inferences, is offered by Popper. However, Popper’s view is even more overtly sceptical: It amounts to saying that all that can ever be said in favour of the truth of an inductive claim is that the claim has been tested and not yet been shown to be false.
(2) The ordinary language response to the problem of induction has been advocated by many philosophers, none the less, Strawson claims that the question whether induction is justified or reasonable makes sense only if it tacitly involves the demand that inductive reasoning meet the standards appropriate to deductive reasoning, i.e., that the inductive conclusions are shown to follow deductively from the inductive assumption. Such a demand cannot, of course, be met, but only because it is illegitimate: Inductive and deductive reasons are simply fundamentally different kinds of reasoning, each possessing its own autonomous standards, and there is no reason to demand or expect that one of these kinds meet the standards of the other. Whereas, if induction is assessed by inductive standards, the only ones that are appropriate, then it is obviously justified.
The problem here is to understand to what this allegedly obvious justification of an induction amount. In his main discussion of the point (1952), Strawson claims that it is an analytic true statement that believing it a conclusion for which there is strong evidence is reasonable and an analytic truth that inductive evidence of the sort captured by the schema presented earlier constitutes strong evidence for the corresponding inductive conclusion, thus, apparently yielding the analytic conclusion that believing it a conclusion for which there is inductive evidence is reasonable. Nevertheless, he also admits, indeed insists, that the claim that inductive conclusions will be true in the future is contingent, empirical, and may turn out to be false (1952). Thus, the notion of reasonable belief and the correlative notion of strong evidence must apparently be understood in ways that have nothing to do with likelihood of truth, presumably by appeal to the standard of reasonableness and strength of evidence that are accepted by the community and are embodied in ordinary usage.
Understood in this way, Strawson’s response to the problem of inductive reasoning does not speak to the central issue raised by Humean scepticism: The issue of whether the conclusions of inductive arguments are likely to be true. It amounts to saying merely that if we reason in this way, we can correctly call ourselves ‘reasonable’ and our evidence ‘strong’, according to our accepted community standards. Nevertheless, to the undersealing of issue of wether following these standards is a good way to find the truth, the ordinary language response appears to have nothing to say.
(3) The main attempts to show that induction can be justified inductively have concentrated on showing that such as a defence can avoid circularity. Skyrms (1975) formulate, perhaps the clearest version of this general strategy. The basic idea is to distinguish different levels of inductive argument: A first level in which induction is applied to things other than arguments: A second level in which it is applied to arguments at the first level, arguing that they have been observed to succeed so far and hence are likely to succeed in general: A third level in which it is applied in the same way to arguments at the second level, and so on. Circularity is allegedly avoided by treating each of these levels as autonomous and justifying the argument at each level by appeal to an argument at the next level.
One problem with this sort of move is that even if circularity is avoided, the movement to higher and higher levels will clearly eventually fail simply for lack of evidence: A level will reach at which there have been enough successful inductive arguments to provide a basis for inductive justification at the next higher level, and if this is so, then the whole series of justifications collapses. A more fundamental difficulty is that the epistemological significance of the distinction between levels is obscure. If the issue is whether reasoning in accord with the original schema offered above ever provides a good reason for thinking that the conclusion is likely to be true, then it still seems question-begging, even if not flatly circular, to answer this question by appeal to anther argument of the same form.
(4) The idea that induction can be justified on a pure priori basis is in one way the most natural response of all: It alone treats an inductive argument as an independently cogent piece of reasoning whose conclusion can be seen rationally to follow, although perhaps only with probability from its premise. Such an approach has, however, only rarely been advocated (Russell, 19132 and BonJour, 1986), and is widely thought to be clearly and demonstrably hopeless.
Many on the reasons for this pessimistic view depend on general epistemological theses about the possible or nature of anticipatory cognition. Thus if, as Quine alleges, there is no a prior justification of any kind, then obviously a prior justification for induction is ruled out. Or if, as more moderate empiricists have in claiming some preexistent knowledge should be analytic, then again a prevenient justification for induction seems to be precluded, since the claim that if an inductive premise ids truer, then the conclusion is likely to be true does not fit the standard conceptions of ‘analyticity’. A consideration of these matters is beyond the scope of the present spoken exchange.
There are, however, two more specific and quite influential reasons for thinking that an early approach is impossible that can be briefly considered, first, there is the assumption, originating in Hume, but since adopted by very many of others, that a move forward in the defence of induction would have to involve ‘turning induction into deduction’, i.e., showing, per impossible, that the inductive conclusion follows deductively from the premise, so that it is a formal contradiction to accept the latter and deny the former. However, it is unclear why a prior approach need be committed to anything this strong. It would be enough if it could be argued that it is deductively unlikely that such a premise is true and corresponding conclusion false.
Second, Reichenbach defends his view that pragmatic justification is the best that is possible by pointing out that a completely chaotic world in which there is simply not true conclusion to be found as to the proportion of ‘A’s’ in addition that occur of, but B’s’ is neither impossible nor unlikely from a purely a prior standpoint, the suggestion being that therefore there can be no a prior reason for thinking that such a conclusion is true. Nevertheless, there is still a substring wayin laying that a chaotic world is a prior neither impossible nor unlikely without any further evidence does not show that such a world os not a prior unlikely and a world containing such-and-such regularity might anticipatorially be somewhat likely in relation to an occurrence of a long-run patten of evidence in which a certain stable proportion of observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ ~. An occurrence, it might be claimed, that would be highly unlikely in a chaotic world (BonJour, 1986).
Goodman’s ‘new riddle of induction’ purports that we suppose that before some specific time ’t’ (perhaps the year 2000) we observe a larger number of emeralds (property A) and find them all to be green (property B). We proceed to reason inductively and conclude that all emeralds are green Goodman points out, however, that we could have drawn a quite different conclusion from the same evidence. If we define the term ‘grue’ to mean ‘green if examined before ’t’ and blue examined after t ʹ, then all of our observed emeralds will also be gruing. A parallel inductive argument will yield the conclusion that all emeralds are gruing, and hence that all those examined after the year 2000 will be blue. Presumably the first of these concisions is genuinely supported by our observations and the second is not. Nevertheless, the problem is to say why this is so and to impose some further restriction upon inductive reasoning that will permit the first argument and exclude the second.
The obvious alternative suggestion is that ‘grue. Similar predicates do not correspond to genuine, purely qualitative properties in the way that ‘green’ and ‘blueness’ does, and that this is why inductive arguments involving them are unacceptable. Goodman, however, claims to be unable to make clear sense of this suggestion, pointing out that the relations of formal desirability are perfectly symmetrical: Grue’ may be defined in terms if, ‘green’ and ‘blue’, but ‘green’ an equally well be defined in terms of ‘grue’ and ‘green’ (blue if examined before ‘t’ and green if examined after ‘t’).
The ‘grued, paradoxes’ demonstrate the importance of categorization, in that sometimes it is itemized as ‘gruing’, if examined of a presence to the future, before future time ‘t’ and ‘green’, or not so examined and ‘blue’. Even though all emeralds in our evidence class grue, we ought must infer that all emeralds are gruing. For ‘grue’ is unprojectible, and cannot transmit credibility from known to unknown cases. Only projectable predicates are right for induction. Goodman considers entrenchment the key to projectibility having a long history of successful protection, ‘grue’ is entrenched, lacking such a history, ‘grue’ is not. A hypothesis is projectable, Goodman suggests, only if its predicates (or suitable related ones) are much better entrenched than its rivalrous past successes that do not assume future ones. Induction remains a risky business. The rationale for favouring entrenched predicates is pragmatic. Of the possible projections from our evidence class, the one that fits with past practices enables ‘us’ to utilize our cognitive resources best. Its prospects of being true are worse than its competitors’ and its cognitive utility is greater.
So, to a better understanding of induction we should then term is most widely used for any process of reasoning that takes ‘us’ from empirical premises to empirical conclusions supported by the premises, but not deductively entailed by them. Inductive arguments are therefore kinds of applicative arguments, in which something beyond the content of the premise is inferred as probable or supported by them. Induction is, however, commonly distinguished from arguments to theoretical explanations, which share this applicative character, by being confined to inferences in which he conclusion involves the same properties or relations as the premises. The central example is induction by simple enumeration, where from premises telling that Fa, Fb, Fc . . . ‘where a, b, c’s, are all of some kind ‘G’, it is inferred that G’s from outside the sample, such as future G’s, will be ‘F’, or perhaps that all G’s are ‘F’. In this, which and the other persons deceive them, children may infer that everyone is a deceiver: Different, but similar inferences of a property by some object to the same object’s future possession of the same property, or from the constancy of some law-like pattern in events and states of affairs ti its future constancy. All objects we know of attract each other with a force inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them, so perhaps they all do so, and will always do so.
The rational basis of any inference was challenged by Hume, who believed that induction presupposed belie in the uniformity of nature, but that this belief has no defence in reason, and merely reflected a habit or custom of the mind. Hume was not therefore sceptical about the role of reason in either explaining it or justifying it. Trying to answer Hume and to show that there is something rationally compelling about the inference referred to as the problem of induction. It is widely recognized that any rational defence of induction will have to partition well-behaved properties for which the inference is plausible (often called projectable properties) from badly behaved ones, for which it is not. It is also recognized that actual inductive habits are more complex than those of similar enumeration, and that both common sense and science pay attention to such giving factors as variations within the sample giving ‘us’ the evidence, the application of ancillary beliefs about the order of nature, and so on.
Nevertheless, the fundamental problem remains that ant experience condition by application show ‘us’ only events occurring within a very restricted part of a vast spatial and temporal order about which we then come to believe things.
Uncompounded by its belonging of a confirmation theory finding of the measure to which evidence supports a theory fully formalized confirmation theory would dictate the degree of confidence that a rational investigator might have in a theory, given some-body of evidence. The grandfather of confirmation theory is Gottfried Leibniz (1646-1718), who believed that a logically transparent language of science would be able to resolve all disputes. In the 20th century a fully formal confirmation theory was a main goal of the logical positivist, since without it the central concept of verification by empirical evidence itself remains distressingly unscientific. The principal developments were due to Rudolf Carnap (1891-1970), culminating in his “Logical Foundations of Probability” (1950). Carnap’s idea was that the measure necessitated would be the proportion of logically possible states of affairs in which the theory and the evidence both hold, compared ti the number in which the evidence itself holds that the probability of a preposition, relative to some evidence, is a proportion of the range of possibilities under which the proposition is true, compared to the total range of possibilities left by the evidence. The difficulty with the theory lies in identifying sets of possibilities so that they admit of measurement. It therefore demands that we can put a measure on the ‘range’ of possibilities consistent with theory and evidence, compared with the range consistent with the evidence alone.
Among the obstacles the enterprise meets, is the fact that while evidence covers only a finite range of data, the hypotheses of science may cover an infinite range. In addition, confirmation proves to vary with the language in which the science is couched, and the Carnapian programme has difficulty in separating genuinely confirming variety of evidence from less compelling repetition of the same experiment. Confirmation also proved to be susceptible to acute paradoxes. Finally, scientific judgement seems to depend on such intangible factors as the problems facing rival theories, and most workers have come to stress instead the historically situated scene of what would appear as a plausible distinction of a scientific knowledge at a given time.
Arose to the paradox of which when a set of apparent incontrovertible premises is given to unacceptable or contradictory conclusions. To solve a paradox will involve showing either that there is a hidden flaw in the premises, or that the reasoning is erroneous, or that the apparently unacceptable conclusion can, in fact, be tolerated. Paradoxes are therefore important in philosophy, for until one is solved it shows that there is something about our reasoning and our concepts that we do not understand. What is more, and somewhat loosely, a paradox is a compelling argument from unacceptable premises to an unacceptable conclusion: More strictly speaking, a paradox is specified to be a sentence that is true if and only if it is false. A characterized objection lesson of it would be: “The displayed sentence is false.”
Seeing that this sentence is false if true is easy, and true if false, a paradox, in either of the senses distinguished, presents an important philosophical challenger. Epistemologists are especially concerned with various paradoxes having to do with knowledge and belief. In other words, for example, the Knower paradox is an argument that begins with apparently impeccable premisses about the concepts of knowledge and inference and derives an explicit contradiction. The origin of the reasoning is the ‘surprise examination paradox’: A teacher announces that there will be a surprise examination next week. A clever student argues that this is impossible. ‘The test cannot be on Friday, the last day of the week, because it would not be a surprise. We would know the day of the test on Thursday evening. This means we can also rule out Thursday. For after we learn that no test has been given by Wednesday, we would know the test is on Thursday or Friday -and would already know that it s not on Friday and would already know that it is not on Friday by the previous reasoning. The remaining days can be eliminated in the same manner’.
This puzzle has over a dozen variants. The first was probably invented by the Swedish mathematician Lennard Ekbon in 1943. Although the first few commentators regarded the reverse elimination argument as cogent, every writer on the subject since 1950 agrees that the argument is unsound. The controversy has been over the proper diagnosis of the flaw.
Initial analyses of the subject’s argument tried to lay the blame on a simple equivocation. Their failure led to more sophisticated diagnoses. The general format has been an assimilation to better-known paradoxes. One tradition casts the surprise examination paradox as a self-referential problem, as fundamentally akin to the Liar, the paradox of the Knower, or Gödel’s incompleteness theorem. That in of itself, says enough that Kaplan and Montague (1960) distilled the following ‘self-referential’ paradox, the Knower. Consider the sentence: (S) The negation of this sentence is known (to be true).
Suppose that (S) is true. Then its negation is known and hence true. However, if its negation is true, then (S) must be false. Therefore (s) is false, or what is the name, the negation of (S) is true.
This paradox and its accompanying reasoning are strongly reminiscent of the Lair Paradox that (in one version) begins by considering a sentence ‘This sentence is false’ and derives a contradiction. Versions of both arguments using axiomatic formulations of arithmetic and Gödel-numbers to achieve the effect of self-reference yields important meta-theorems about what can be expressed in such systems. Roughly these are to the effect that no predicates definable in the formalized arithmetic can have the properties we demand of truth (Tarski’s Theorem) or of knowledge (Montague, 1963).
These meta-theorems still leave ‘us; with the problem that if we suppose that we add of these formalized languages predicates intended to express the concept of knowledge (or truth) and inference-as one mighty does if a logic of these concepts is desired. Then the sentence expressing the leading principles of the Knower Paradox will be true.
Explicitly, the assumption about knowledge and inferences are:
(1) If sentences ‘A’ are known, then “a.”
(2) (1) is known?
(3) If ‘B’ is correctly inferred from ‘A’, and ‘A’ is known, then ‘B’ is known.
To give an absolutely explicit t derivation of the paradox by applying these principles to (S), we must add (contingent) assumptions to the effect that certain inferences have been done. Still, as we go through the argument of the Knower, these inferences are done. Even if we can somehow restrict such principles and construct a consistent formal logic of knowledge and inference, the paradoxical argument as expressed in the natural language still demands some explanation.
The usual proposals for dealing with the Liar often have their analogues for the Knower, e.g., that there is something wrong with a self-reference or that knowledge (or truth) is properly a predicate of propositions and not of sentences. The relies that show that some of these are not adequate are often parallel to those for the Liar paradox. In addition, one can try here what seems to be an adequate solution for the Surprise Examination Paradox, namely the observation that ‘new knowledge can drive out knowledge’, but this does not seem to work on the Knower (Anderson, 1983).
There are a number of paradoxes of the Liar family. The simplest example is the sentence ‘This sentence is false’, which must be false if it is true, and true if it is false. One suggestion is that the sentence fails to say anything, but sentences that fail to say anything are at least not true. In fact case, we consider to sentences ‘This sentence is not true’, which, if it fails to say anything is not true, and hence (this kind of reasoning is sometimes called the strengthened Liar). Other versions of the Liar introduce pairs of sentences, as in a slogan on the front of a T-shirt saying ‘This sentence on the back of this T-shirt is false’, and one on the back saying ‘The sentence on the front of this T-shirt is true’. It is clear that each sentence individually is well formed, and were it not for the other, might have said something true. So any attempt to dismiss the paradox by sating that the sentence involved are meaningless will face problems.
Even so, the two approaches that have some hope of adequately dealing with this paradox is ‘hierarchy’ solutions and ‘truth-value gap’ solutions. According to the first, knowledge is structured into ‘levels’. It is argued that there be bo one-coherent notion expressed by the verb; knows’, but rather a whole series of notions, of the knowable knows, and so on (perhaps into transfinite), stated ion terms of predicate expressing such ‘ramified’ concepts and properly restricted, (1)-(3) lead to no contradictions. The main objections to this procedure are that the meaning of these levels has not been adequately explained and that the idea of such subscripts, even implicit, in a natural language is highly counterintuitive the ‘truth-value gap’ solution takes sentences such as (S) to lack truth-value. They are neither true nor false, but they do not express propositions. This defeats a crucial step in the reasoning used in the derivation of the paradoxes. Kripler (1986) has developed this approach in connection with the Liar and Asher and Kamp (1986) has worked out some details of a parallel solution to the Knower. The principal objection is that ‘strengthened’ or ‘super’ versions of the paradoxes tend to reappear when the solution itself is stated.
Since the paradoxical deduction uses only the properties (1)-(3) and since the argument is formally valid, any notion that satisfy these conditions will lead to a paradox. Thus, Grim (1988) notes that this may be read as ‘is known by an omniscient God’ and concludes that there is no coherent single notion of omniscience. Thomason (1980) observes that with some different conditions, analogous reasoning about belief can lead to paradoxical consequence.
Overall, it looks as if we should conclude that knowledge and truth are ultimately intrinsically ‘stratified’ concepts. It would seem that wee must simply accept the fact that these (and similar) concepts cannot be assigned of any-one fixed, finite or infinite. Still, the meaning of this idea certainly needs further clarification.
Its paradox arises when a set of apparently incontrovertible premises gives unacceptable or contradictory conclusions, to solve a paradox will involve showing either that there is a hidden flaw in the premises, or that the reasoning is erroneous, or that the apparently unacceptable conclusion can, in fact, be tolerated. Paradoxes are therefore important in philosophy, for until one is solved its shows that there is something about our reasoning and of concepts that we do not understand. Famous families of paradoxes include the ‘semantic paradoxes’ and ‘Zeno’s paradoxes. Art the beginning of the 20th century, paradox and other set-theoretical paradoxes led to the complete overhaul of the foundations of set theory, while the ’Sorites paradox’ has lead to the investigations of the semantics of vagueness and fuzzy logics.
It is, however, to what extent can analysis be informative? This is the question that gives a riser to what philosophers has traditionally called ‘the’ paradox of analysis. Thus, consider the following proposition:
(1) To be an instance of knowledge is to be an instance of justified true belief not essentially grounded in any falsehood. (1) If true, illustrates an important type of philosophical analysis. For convenience of exposition, I will assume (1) is a correct analysis. The paradox arises from the fact that if the concept of justified true belief not been essentially grounded in any falsification is the analysand of the concept of knowledge, it would seem that they are the same concept and hence that: (2) To be an instance of knowledge is to be as an instance of knowledge and would have to be the same propositions as (1). But then how can (1) be informative when (2) is not? This is what is called the first paradox of analysis. Classical writings’ on analysis suggests a second paradoxical analysis (Moore, 1942).
(3) An analysis of the concept of being a brother is that to be a
brother is to be a male sibling. If (3) is true, it would seem that the concept of being a brother would have to be the same concept as the concept of being a male sibling and tat:
(4) An analysis of the concept of being a brother is that to be a brother is to be a brother
would also have to be true and in fact, would have to be the same proposition as (3?). Yet (3) is true and (4) is false.
Both these paradoxes rest upon the assumptions that analysis is a relation between concepts, than one involving entity of other sorts, such as linguistic expressions, and tat in a true analysis, analysand and analysandum are the same concept. Both these assumptions are explicit in Moore, but some of Moore’s remarks hint at a solution to that of another statement of an analysis is a statement partly about the concept involved and partly about the verbal expressions used to express it. He says he thinks a solution of this sort is bound to be right, but fails to suggest one because he cannot see a way in which the analysis can be even partly about the expression (Moore, 1942).
Elsewhere, of such ways, as a solution to the second paradox, to which is explicating (3) as: (5)-An analysis is given by saying that the verbal expression ‘χ’ is a brother’ expresses the same concept as is expressed by the conjunction of the verbal expressions ‘χ’ is male’ when used to express the concept of being male and ‘χ’ is a sibling’ when used to express the concept of being a sibling. (Ackerman, 1990). An important point about (5) is as follows. Stripped of its philosophical jargon (‘analysis’, ‘concept’, ‘χ’ is a . . . ‘), (5) seems to state the sort of information generally stated in a definition of the verbal expression ‘brother’ in terms of the verbal expressions ‘male’ and ‘sibling’, where this definition is designed to draw upon listeners’ antecedent understanding of the verbal expression ‘male’ and ‘sibling’, and thus, to tell listeners what the verbal expression ‘brother’ really means, instead of merely providing the information that two verbal expressions are synonymous without specifying the meaning of either one. Thus, its solution to the second paradox seems to make the sort of analysis tat gives rise to this paradox matter of specifying the meaning of a verbal expression in terms of separate verbal expressions already understood and saying how the meanings of these separate, already-understood verbal expressions are combined. This corresponds to Moore’s intuitive requirement that an analysis should both specify the constituent concepts of the analysandum and tell how they are combined, but is this all there is to philosophical analysis?
To answer this question, we must note that, in addition too there being two paradoxes of analysis, there is two types of analyses that are relevant here. (There are also other types of analysis, such as reformatory analysis, where the analysand are intended to improve on and replace the analysandum. But since reformatory analysis involves no commitment to conceptual identity between analysand and analysandum, reformatory analysis does not generate a paradox of analysis and so will not concern ‘us’ here.) One way to recognize the difference between the two types of analysis concerning ‘us’ here is to focus on the difference between the two paradoxes. This can be done by means of the Frége-inspired sense-individuation condition, which is the condition that two expressions have the same sense if and only if they can be interchangeably ‘salva veritate’ whenever used in propositional attitude context. If the expressions for the analysands and the analysandum in (1) met this condition, (1) and (2) would not raise the first paradox, but the second paradox arises regardless of whether the expression for the analysand and the analysandum meet this condition. The second paradox is a matter of the failure of such expressions to be interchangeable salva veritate in sentences involving such contexts as ‘an analysis is given thereof. Thus, a solution (such as the one offered) that is aimed only at such contexts can solve the second paradox. This is clearly false for the first paradox, however, which will apply to all pairs of propositions expressed by sentences in which expressions for pairs of analysands and analysantia raising the first paradox is interchangeable. For example, consider the following proposition:
(6) Mary knows that some cats tail.
It is possible for John to believe (6) without believing:
(7) Mary has justified true belief, not essentially grounded in any falsehood, that some cats lack tails.
Yet this possibility clearly does not mean that the proposition that Mary knows that some casts lack tails is partly about language.
One approach to the first paradox is to argue that, despite the apparent epistemic inequivalence of (1) and (2), the concept of justified true belief not essentially grounded in any falsehood is still identical with the concept of knowledge (Sosa, 1983). Another approach is to argue that in the sort of analysis raising the first paradox, the analysand and analysandum is concepts that are different but that bear a special epistemic relation to each other. Elsewhere, the development is such an approach and suggestion that this analysand-analysandum relation has the following facets.
(I) The analysand and analysandum are necessarily coextensive, i.e., necessarily every instance of one is an instance of the other.
(ii) The analysand and analysandum are knowable theoretical to be coextensive.
(iii) The analysandum is simpler than the analysands a condition whose necessity is recognized in classical writings on analysis, such as, Langford, 1942.
(iv) The analysand do not have the analysandum as a constituent.
Condition (iv) rules out circularity. But since many valuable quasi-analyses are partly circular, e.g., knowledge is justified true belief supported by known reasons not essentially grounded in any falsehood, it seems best to distinguish between full analysis, from that of (iv) is a necessary condition, and partial analysis, for which it is not.
These conditions, while necessary, are clearly insufficient. The basic problem is that they apply too many pairs of concepts that do not seem closely enough related epistemologically to count as analysand and analysandum. , such as the concept of being 6 and the concept of the fourth root of 1296. Accordingly, its solution upon what actually seems epistemologically distinctive about analyses of the sort under consideration, which is a certain way they can be justified. This is by the philosophical example-and-counterexample method, which is in a general term that goes as follows. ‘J’ investigates the analysis of K’s concept ‘Q’ (where ‘K’ can but need not be identical to ‘J’ by setting ‘K’ a series of armchair thought experiments, i.e., presenting ‘K’ with a series of simple described hypothetical test cases and asking ‘K’ questions of the form ‘If such-and-such where the case would this count as a case of Q? ‘J’ then contrasts the descriptions of the cases to which; K’ answers affirmatively with the description of the cases to which ‘K’ does not, and ‘J’ generalizes upon these descriptions to arrive at the concepts (if possible not including the analysandum) and their mode of combination that constitute the analysand of K’‘s concept ‘Q’. Since ‘J’ need not be identical with ‘K’, there is no requirement that ‘K’ himself be able to perform this generalization, to recognize its result as correct, or even to understand he analysand that is its result. This is reminiscent of Walton’s observation that one can simply recognize a bird as a swallow without realizing just what feature of the bird (beak, wing configurations, etc.) form the basis of this recognition. (The philosophical significance of this way of recognizing is discussed in Walton, 1972) ‘K’ answers the questions based solely on whether the described hypothetical cases just strike him as cases of ‘Q’. ‘J’ observes certain strictures in formulating the cases and questions. He makes the cases as simple as possible, to minimize the possibility of confusion and to minimize the likelihood that ‘K’ will draw upon his philosophical theories (or quasi-philosophical, a rudimentary notion if he is unsophisticated philosophically) in answering the questions. For this conflicting result, the conflict should ‘other things being equal’ be resolved in favour of the simpler case. ‘J’ makes the series of described cases wide-ranging and varied, with the aim of having it be a complete series, where a series is complete if and only if no case that is omitted in such that, if included, it would change the analysis arrived at. ‘J’ does not, of course, use as a test-case description anything complicated and general enough to express the analysand. There is no requirement that the described hypothetical test cases be formulated only in terms of what can be observed. Moreover, using described hypothetical situations as test cases enables ‘J’ to frame the questions in such a way as to rule out extraneous background assumption to a degree, thus, even if ‘K’ correctly believes that all and only P’s are R’s, the question of whether the concepts of P, R, or both enter the analysand of his concept ‘Q’ can be investigated by asking him such questions as ‘Suppose (even if it seems preposterous to you) that you were to find out that there was a ‘P’ that was not an ‘R’. Would you still consider it a case of Q?
Taking all this into account, the fifth necessary condition for this sort of analysand-analysandum relations is as follows: If ‘S’ is the analysand of ‘Q’, the proposition that necessarily all and only instances of ‘S’ are instances of ‘Q’ can be justified by generalizing from intuition about the correct answers to questions of the sort indicated about a varied and wide-ranging series of simple described hypothetical situations. It so does occur of antinomy, when we are able to argue for, or demonstrate, both a proposition and its contradiction, roughly speaking, a contradiction of a proposition ‘p’ is one that can be expressed in form ‘not-p’, or, if ‘p’ can be expressed in the form ‘not-q’, then a contradiction is one that can be expressed in the form ‘q’. Thus, e.g., if ‘p is 2 + 1 = 4, then 2 + 1 ≠4 is the contradictory of ‘p’, for 2 + 1 ≠4 can be expressed in the form not (2 + 1 = 4). If ‘p’ is 2 + 1 ≠4, then 2 + 1-4 is a contradictory of ‘p’, since 2 + 1 ≠4 can be expressed in the form not (2 + 1 = 4). This is, mutually, but contradictory propositions can be expressed in the form, ‘r’, ‘not-r’. The Principle of Contradiction says that mutually contradictory propositions cannot both be true and cannot both be false. Thus, by this principle, since if ‘p’ is true, ‘not-p’ is false, no proposition ‘p’ can be at once true and false (otherwise both ‘p’ and its contradictories would be false?). In particular, for any predicate ‘p’ and object ‘χ’, it cannot be that ‘p’; is at once true of ‘χ’ and false of χ? This is the classical formulation of the principle of contradiction, but it is nonetheless, that wherein, we cannot now fault either demonstrates. We would eventually hope to be able ‘to solve the antinomy’ by managing, through careful thinking and analysis, eventually to fault either or both demonstrations.
Many paradoxes are as an easy source of antinomies, for example, Zeno gave some famously lets say, logical-cum-mathematical arguments that might be interpreted as demonstrating that motion is impossible. But our eyes as it was, demonstrate motion (exhibit moving things) all the time. Where did Zeno go wrong? Where do our eyes go wrong? If we cannot readily answer at least one of these questions, then we are in antinomy. In the “Critique of Pure Reason,” Kant gave demonstrations of the same kind -in the Zeno example they were obviously not the same kind of both, e.g., that the world has a beginning in time and space, and that the world has no beginning in time or space. He argues that both demonstrations are at fault because they proceed on the basis of ‘pure reason’ unconditioned by sense experience.
At this point, we display attributes to the theory of experience, as it is not possible to define in an illuminating way, however, we know what experiences are through acquaintances with some of our own, e.g., visual experiences of as afterimage, a feeling of physical nausea or a tactile experience of an abrasive surface (which might be caused by an actual surface -rough or smooth, or which might be part of a dream, or the product of a vivid sensory imagination). The essential feature of experience is it feels a certain way -that there is something that it is like to have it. We may refer to this feature of an experience as its ‘character’.
Another core feature of the sorts of experiences with which this may be of a concern, is that they have representational ‘content’. (Unless otherwise indicated, ‘experience’ will be reserved for their ‘contentual representations’.) The most obvious cases of experiences with content are sense experiences of the kind normally involved in perception. We may describe such experiences by mentioning their sensory modalities ad their contents, e.g., a gustatory experience (modality) of chocolate ice cream (content), but do so more commonly by means of perceptual verbs combined with noun phrases specifying their contents, as in ‘Macbeth saw a dagger’. This is, however, ambiguous between the perceptual claim ‘There was a (material) dagger in the world that Macbeth perceived visually’ and ‘Macbeth had a visual experience of a dagger’ (the reading with which we are concerned, as it is afforded by our imagination, or perhaps, experiencing mentally hallucinogenic imagery).
As in the case of other mental states and events with content, it is important to distinguish between the properties that and experience ‘represents’ and the properties that it ‘possesses’. To talk of the representational properties of an experience is to say something about its content, not to attribute those properties to the experience itself. Like every other experience, a visual; experience of a non-shaped square, of which is a mental event, and it is therefore not itself either irregular or is it square, even though it represents those properties. It is, perhaps, fleeting, pleasant or unusual, even though it does not represent those properties. An experience may represent a property that it possesses, and it may even do so in virtue of a rapidly changing (complex) experience representing something as changing rapidly. However, this is the exception and not the rule.
Which properties can be [directly] represented in sense experience is subject to debate. Traditionalists include only properties whose presence could not be doubted by a subject having appropriate experiences, e.g., colour and shape in the case of visual experience, and apparent shape, surface texture, hardness, etc., in the case of tactile experience. This view is natural to anyone who has an egocentric, Cartesian perspective in epistemology, and who wishes for pure data in experiences to serve as logically certain foundations for knowledge, especially to the immediate objects of perceptual awareness in or of sense-data, such categorized of colour patches and shapes, which are usually supposed distinct from surfaces of physical objectivity. Qualities of sense-data are supposed to be distinct from physical qualities because their perception is more relative to conditions, more certain, and more immediate, and because sense-data is private and cannot appear other than they are they are objects that change in our perceptual field when conditions of perception change. Physical objects remain constant.
Others who do not think that this wish can be satisfied, and who are more impressed with the role of experience in providing animisms with ecologically significant information about the world around them, claim that sense experiences represent properties, characteristic and kinds that are much richer and much more wide-ranging than the traditional sensory qualities. We do not see only colours and shapes, they tell ‘us’, but also earth, water, men, women and fire: We do not smell only odours, but also food and filth. There is no space here to examine the factors relevantly responsible to their choice of situational alternatives. Yet, this suggests that character and content are not really distinct, and there is a close tie between them. For one thing, the relative complexity of the character of sense experience places limitations upon its possible content, e.g., a tactile experience of something touching one’s left ear is just too simple to carry the same amount of content as typically convincing to an every day, visual experience. Moreover, the content of a sense experience of a given character depends on the normal causes of appropriately similar experiences, e.g., the sort of gustatory experience that we have when eating chocolate would be not represented as chocolate unless it was normally caused by chocolate. Granting a contingent ties between the character of an experience and its possible causal origins, once, again follows that its possible content is limited by its character.
Character and content are none the less irreducibly different, for the following reasons. (1) There are experiences that completely lack content, e.g., certain bodily pleasures. (2) Not every aspect of the character of an experience with content is relevant to that content, e.g., the unpleasantness of an aural experience of chalk squeaking on a board may have no representational significance. (3) Experiences in different modalities may overlap in content without a parallel overlap in character, e.g., visual and tactile experiences of circularity feel completely different. (4) The content of an experience with a given character may vary according to the background of the subject, e.g., a certain content ‘singing bird’ only after the subject has learned something about birds.
According to the act/object analysis of experience (which is a special case of the act/object analysis of consciousness), every experience involves an object of experience even if it has no material object. Two main lines of argument may be offered in support of this view, one ‘phenomenological’ and the other ‘semantic’.
In an outline, the phenomenological argument is as follows. Whenever we have an experience, even if nothing beyond the experience answers to it, we seem to be presented with something through the experience (which is itself diaphanous). The object of the experience is whatever is so presented to ‘us’-is that it is an individual thing, an event, or a state of affairs.
The semantic argument is that objects of experience are required in order to make sense of certain features of our talk about experience, including, in particular, the following. (I) Simple attributions of experience, e.g., ‘Rod is experiencing an oddity that is not really square but in appearance it seems more than likely a square’, this seems to be relational. (ii) We appear to refer to objects of experience and to attribute properties to them, e.g., ‘The after-image that John experienced was certainly odd’. (iii) We appear to quantify ov er objects of experience, e.g., ‘Macbeth saw something that his wife did not see’.
The act/object analysis faces several problems concerning the status of objects of experiences. Currently the most common view is that they are sense-data-private mental entities that actually posses the traditional sensory qualities represented by the experiences of which they are the objects. But the very idea of an essentially private entity is suspect. Moreover, since an experience may apparently represent something as having a determinable property, e.g., redness, without representing it as having any subordinate determinate property, e.g., any specific shade of red, a sense-datum may actually have a determinate property subordinate to it. Even more disturbing is that sense-data may have contradictory properties, since experiences can have contradictory contents. A case in point is the waterfall illusion: If you stare at a waterfall for a minute and then immediately fixate on a nearby rock, you are likely to have an experience of the rock’s moving upward while it remains in the same place. The sense-data theorist must either deny that there are such experiences or admit contradictory objects.
These problems can be avoided by treating objects of experience as properties. This, however, fails to do justice to the appearances, for experience seems not to present ‘us’ with properties embodied in individuals. The view that objects of experience is Meinongian objects accommodate this point. It is also attractive in as far as (1) it allows experiences to represent properties other than traditional sensory qualities, and (2) it allows for the identification of objects of experience and objects of perception in the case of experiences that constitute perception.
According to the act/object analysis of experience, every experience with content involves an object of experience to which the subject is related by an act of awareness (the event of experiencing that object). This is meant to apply not only to perceptions, which have material objects (whatever is perceived), but also to experiences like hallucinations and dream experiences, which do not. Such experiences none the less appear to represent something, and their objects are supposed to be whatever it is that they represent. Act/object theorists may differ on the nature of objects of experience, which have been treated as properties. Meinongian objects (which may not exist or have any form of being), and, more commonly private mental entities with sensory qualities. (The term ‘sense-data’ is now usually applied to the latter, but has also been used as a general term for objects of sense experiences, as in the work of G. E. Moore) Act/object theorists may also differ on the relationship between objects of experience and objects of perception. In terms of perception (of which we are ‘indirectly aware’) are always distinct from objects of experience (of which we are ‘directly aware’). Meinongian, however, may treat objects of perception as existing objects of experience. But sense-datum theorists must either deny that there are such experiences or admit contradictory objects. Still, most philosophers will feel that the Meinongian’s acceptance of impossible objects is too high a price to pay for these benefits.
A general problem for the act/object analysis is that the question of whether two subjects are experiencing one and the same thing (as opposed to having exactly similar experiences) appears to have an answer only on the assumption that the experiences concerned are perceptions with material objects. But in terms of the act/object analysis the question must have an answer even when this condition is not satisfied. (The answer is always negative on the sense-datum theory; it could be positive on other versions of the act/object analysis, depending on the facts of the case.)
In view of the above problems, the case for the act/object analysis should be reassessed. The Phenomenological argument is not, on reflection, convincing, for it is easy enough to grant that any experience appears to present ‘us’ with an object without accepting that it actually does. The semantic argument is more impressive, but is none the less answerable. The seemingly relational structure of attributions of experience is a challenge dealt with below in connection with the adverbial theory. Apparent reference to and quantification over objects of experience can be handled by analysing them as reference to experiences themselves and quantification over experiences tacitly typed according to content. Thus, ‘The after-image that John experienced was colourfully appealing’ becomes ‘John’s after-image experience was an experience of colour’, and ‘Macbeth saw something that his wife did not see’ becomes ‘Macbeth had a visual experience that his wife did not have’.
Pure cognitivism attempts to avoid the problems facing the act/object analysis by reducing experiences to cognitive events or associated disposition, e.g., Susy’s experience of a rough surface beneath her hand might be identified with the event of her acquiring the belief that there is a rough surface beneath her hand, or, if she does not acquire this belief, with a disposition to acquire it that has somehow been blocked.
This position has attractions. It does full justice to the cognitive contents of experience, and to the important role of experience as a source of belief acquisition. It would also help clear the way for a naturalistic theory of mind, since there seems to be some prospect of a physicalist/functionalist account of belief and other intentional states. But pure cognitivism is completely undermined by its failure to accommodate the fact that experiences have a felt character that cannot be reduced to their content, as aforementioned.
The adverbial theory is an attempt to undermine the act/object analysis by suggesting a semantic account of attributions of experience that does not require objects of experience. Unfortunately, the oddities of explicit adverbializations of such statements have driven off potential supporters of the theory. Furthermore, the theory remains largely undeveloped, and attempted refutations have traded on this. It may, however, be founded on sound basis intuitions, and there is reason to believe that an effective development of the theory (which is merely hinting at) is possible.
The relevant intuitions are (1) that when we say that someone is experiencing ‘an A’, or has an experience ‘of an A’, we are using this content-expression to specify the type of thing that the experience is especially apt to fit, (2) that doing this is a matter of saying something about the experience itself (and maybe about the normal causes of like experiences), and (3) that it is no-good of reasons to posit of its position to presuppose that of any involvements, is that its descriptions of an object in which the experience is. Thus the effective role of the content-expression in a statement of experience is to modify the verb it compliments, not to introduce a special type of object.
Perhaps, the most important criticism of the adverbial theory is the ‘many property problem’, according to which the theory does not have the resources to distinguish between, e.g.,
(1) Frank has an experience of a brown triangle
and:
(2) Frank has an experience of brown and an experience of a triangle.
Which is entailed by (1) but does not entail it. The act/object analysis can easily accommodate the difference between (1) and (2) by claiming that the truth of (1) requires a single object of experience that is both brown and triangular, while that of the (2) allows for the possibility of two objects of experience, one brown and the other triangular, however, (1) is equivalent to:
(1*) Frank has an experience of something’s being both brown and triangular.
And (2) is equivalent to:
(2*) Frank has an experience of something’s being brown and an experience of something’s being triangular,
and the difference between these can be explained quite simply in terms of logical scope without invoking objects of experience. The Adverbialists may use this to answer the many-property problem by arguing that the phrase ‘a brown triangle’ in (1) does the same work as the clause ‘something’s being both brown and triangular’ in (1*). This is perfectly compatible with the view that it also has the ‘adverbial’ function of modifying the verb ‘has an experience of’, for it specifies the experience more narrowly just by giving a necessary condition for the satisfaction of the experience (the condition being that there are something both brown and triangular before Frank).
A final position that should be mentioned is the state theory, according to which a sense experience of an ‘A’ is an occurrent, non-relational state of the kind that the subject would be in when perceiving an ‘A’. Suitably qualified, this claim is no doubt true, but its significance is subject to debate. Here it is enough to remark that the claim is compatible with both pure cognitivism and the adverbial theory, and that state theorists are probably best advised to adopt adverbials as a means of developing their intuitions.
Yet, clarifying sense-data, if taken literally, is that which is given by the senses. But in response to the question of what exactly is so given, sense-data theories posit private showings in the consciousness of the subject. In the case of vision this would be a kind of inner picture show which itself only indirectly represents aspects of the external world that has in and of itself a worldly representation. The view has been widely rejected as implying that we really only see extremely thin coloured pictures interposed between our mind’s eye and reality. Modern approaches to perception tend to reject any conception of the eye as a camera or lense, simply responsible for producing private images, and stress the active life of the subject in and of the world, as the determinant of experience.
Nevertheless, the argument from illusion is of itself the usually intended directive to establish that certain familiar facts about illusion disprove the theory of perception called naïevity or direct realism. There are, however, many different versions of the argument that must be distinguished carefully. Some of these distinctions centre on the content of the premises (the nature of the appeal to illusion); others centre on the interpretation of the conclusion (the kind of direct realism under attack). Let ‘us’ set about by distinguishing the importantly different versions of direct realism which one might take to be vulnerable to familiar facts about the possibility of perceptual illusion.
A crude statement of direct realism might go as follows. In perception, we sometimes directly perceive physical objects and their properties, we do not always perceive physical objects by perceiving something ‘else’, e.g., a sense-datum. There are, however, difficulties with this formulation of the view, as for one thing a great many philosophers who are ‘not’ direct realists would admit that it is a mistake to describe people as actually ‘perceiving’ something other than a physical object. In particular, such philosophers might admit, we should never say that we perceive sense-data. To talk that way would be to suppose that we should model our understanding of our relationship to sense-data on our understanding of the ordinary use of perceptual verbs as they describe our relation to and of the physical world, and that is the last thing paradigm sense-datum theorists should want. At least, many of the philosophers who objected to direct realism would prefer to express in what they were of objecting too in terms of a technical (and philosophically controversial) concept such as ‘acquaintance’. Using such a notion, we could define direct realism this way: In ‘veridical’ experience we are directly acquainted with parts, e.g., surfaces, or constituents of physical objects. A less cautious verison of the view might drop the reference to veridical experience and claim simply that in all experience we are directly acquainted with parts or constituents of physical objects. The expressions ‘knowledge by acquaintance’ and ‘knowledge by description’, and the distinction they mark between knowing ‘things’ and knowing ‘about’ things, are generally associated with Bertrand Russell (1872-1970), that scientific philosophy required analysing many objects of belief as ‘logical constructions’ or ‘logical fictions’, and the programme of analysis that this inaugurated dominated the subsequent philosophy of logical atomism, and then of other philosophers, Russell’s “The Analysis of Mind,” the mind itself is treated in a fashion reminiscent of Hume, as no more than the collection of neutral perceptions or sense-data that make up the flux of conscious experience, and that looked at another way that also was to make up the external world (neutral monism), but “An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth” (1940) represents a more empirical approach to the problem. Yet, philosophers have perennially investigated this and related distinctions using varying terminology.
Distinction in our ways of knowing things, highlighted by Russell and forming a central element in his philosophy after the discovery of the theory of ‘definite descriptions’. A thing is known by acquaintance when there is direct experience of it. It is known by description if it can only be described as a thing with such-and-such properties. In everyday parlance, I might know my spouse and children by acquaintance, but know someone as ‘the first person born at sea’ only by description. However, for a variety of reasons Russell shrinks the area of things that can be known by acquaintance until eventually only current experience, perhaps my own self, and certain universals or meanings qualify anything else is known only as the thing that has such-and-such qualities.
Because one can interpret the relation of acquaintance or awareness as one that is not ‘epistemic’, i.e., not a kind of propositional knowledge, it is important to distinguish the above aforementioned views read as ontological theses from a view one might call ‘epistemological direct realism? In perception we are, on at least some occasions, non-inferentially justified in believing a proposition asserting the existence of a physical object. Since it is that these objects exist independently of any mind that might perceive them, and so it thereby rules out all forms of idealism and phenomenalism, which hold that there are no such independently existing objects. Its being to ‘direct’ realism rules out those views defended under the cubic of ‘critical naive realism’, or ‘representational realism’, in which there is some non-physical intermediary -usually called a ‘sense-datum’ or a ‘sense impression’ -that must first be perceived or experienced in order to perceive the object that exists independently of this perception. Often the distinction between direct realism and other theories of perception is explained more fully in terms of what is ‘immediately’ perceived, than ‘mediately’ perceived. What relevance does illusion have for these two forms of direct realism?
The fundamental premise of the arguments is from illusion seems to be the theses that things can appear to be other than they are. Thus, for example, straight sticks when immerged in water looks bent, a penny when viewed from certain perspective appears as an illusory spatial elliptic circularity, when something that is yellow when place under red fluorescent light looks red. In all of these cases, one version of the argument goes, it is implausible to maintain that what we are directly acquainted with is the real nature of the object in question. Indeed, it is hard to see how we can be said to be aware of the really physical object at all. In the above illusions the things we were aware of actually were bent, elliptical and red, respectively. But, by hypothesis, the really physical objects lacked these properties. Thus, we were not aware of the substantial reality of been real as a physical objects or theory.
So far, if the argument is relevant to any of the direct realisms distinguished above, it seems relevant only to the claim that in all sense experience we are directly acquainted with parts or constituents of physical objects. After all, even if in illusion we are not acquainted with physical objects, but their surfaces, or their constituents, why should we conclude anything about the hidden nature of our relations to the physical world in veridical experience?
We are supposed to discover the answer to this question by noticing the similarities between illusory experience and veridical experience and by reflecting on what makes illusion possible at all. Illusion can occur because the nature of the illusory experience is determined, not just by the nature of events or sorted, conflicting affairs but the object perceived as itself the event in cause, but also by other conditions, both external and internal as becoming of an inner or as the outer experience. But all of our sensations are subject to these causal influences and it would be gratuitous and arbitrary to select from indefinitely of many and subtly different perceptual experiences some special ones those that get ‘us’ in touch with the ‘real’ nature of the physical world and its surrounding surfaces. Red fluorescent light affects the way thing’s look, but so does sunlight. Water reflects light, but so does air. We have no unmediated access to the external world.
The Philosophy of science, and scientific epistemology are not the only area where philosophers have lately urged the relevance of neuroscientific discoveries. Kathleen Akins argues that a "traditional" view of the senses underlies the variety of sophisticated "naturalistic" programs about intentionality. Current neuroscientific understanding of the mechanisms and coding strategies implemented by sensory receptors shows that this traditional view is mistaken. The traditional view holds that sensory systems are "veridical" in at least three ways. (1) Each signal in the system correlates with a small range of properties in the external (to the body) environment. (2) The structure in the relevant relations between the external properties the receptors are sensitive to is preserved in the structure of the relations between the resulting sensory states. And (3) the sensory system reconstructively in faithfully, without fictive additions or embellishments, the external events. Using recent neurobiological discoveries about response properties of thermal receptors in the skin as an illustration, Akins shows that sensory systems are "narcissistic" rather than "veridical." All three traditional assumptions are violated. These neurobiological details and their philosophical implications open novel questions for the philosophy of perception and for the appropriate foundations for naturalistic projects about intentionality. Armed with the known neurophysiology of sensory receptors, for example, our "philosophy of perception" or of "perceptual intentionality" will no longer focus on the search for correlations between states of sensory systems and "veridically detected" external properties. This traditional philosophical (and scientific) project rests upon a mistaken "veridical" view of the senses. Neuroscientific knowledge of sensory receptor activity also shows that sensory experience does not serve the naturalist well as a "simple paradigm case" of an intentional relation between representation and world. Once again, available scientific detail shows the naivety of some traditional philosophical projects.
Focussing on the anatomy and physiology of the pain transmission system, Valerie Hardcastle (1997) urges a similar negative implication for a popular methodological assumption. Pain experiences have long been philosophers' favorite cases for analysis and theorizing about conscious experience generally. Nevertheless, every position about pain experiences has been defended recently: eliminativist, a variety of objectivists view, relational views, and subjectivist views. Why so little agreement, despite agreement that pain experience is the place to start an analysis or theory of consciousness? Hardcastle urges two answers. First, philosophers tend to be uninformed about the neuronal complexity of our pain transmission systems, and build their analyses or theories on the outcome of a single component of a multi-component system. Second, even those who understand some of the underlying neurobiology of pain tends to advocate gate-control theories. But the best existing gate-control theories are vague about the neural mechanisms of the gates. Hardcastle instead proposes a dissociable dual system of pain transmission, consisting of a pain sensory system closely analogous in its neurobiological implementation to other sensory systems, and a descending pain inhibitory system. She argues that this dual system is consistent with recent neuroscientific discoveries and accounts for all the pain phenomena that have tempted philosophers toward particular (but limited) theories of pain experience. The neurobiological uniqueness of the pain inhibitory system, contrasted with the mechanisms of other sensory modalities, renders pain processing atypical. In particular, the pain inhibitory system dissociates pains sensation from stimulation of nociceptors (pain receptors). Hardcastle concludes from the neurobiological uniqueness of pain transmission that pain experiences are atypical conscious events, and hence not a good place to start theorizing about or analyzing the general type.
Developing and defending theories of content is a central topic in current philosophy of mind. A common desideratum in this debate is a theory of cognitive representation consistent with a physical or naturalistic ontology. We'll here describe a few contributions neuro philosophers have made to this literature.
When one perceives or remembers that he is out of coffee, his brain state possesses intentionality or "aboutness." The percept or memory is about one's being out of coffee, and it represents one for being out of coffee. The representational state has content. A psychosemantics seeks to explain what it is for a representational state to be about something: to provide an account of how states and events can have specific representational content. A physicalist psychosemantics seeks to do this using resources of the physical sciences exclusively. neuro philosophers have contributed to two types of physicalist psychosemantics: the Functional Role approach and the Informational approach.
The nucleus of functional roles of semantics holds that a representation has its content in virtue of relations it bears to other representations. Its paradigm application is to concepts of truth-functional logic, like the conjunctive ‘and’ or disjunctive ‘or.’ A physical event instantiates the ‘and’ function just in case it maps two true inputs onto a single true output. Thus an expression bears the relations to others that give it the semantic content of ‘and.’ Proponents of functional role semantics propose similar analyses for the content of all representations (Form 1986). A physical event represents birds, for example, if it bears the right relations to events representing feathers and others representing beaks. By contrast, informational semantics associates content to a state depending upon the causal relations obtaining between the state and the object it represents. A physical state represents birds, for example, just in case an appropriate causal relation obtains between it and birds. At the heart of informational semantics is a causal account of information. Red spots on a face carry the information that one has measles because the red spots are caused by the measles virus. A common criticism of informational semantics holds that mere causal covariation is insufficient for representation, since information (in the causal sense) is by definition, always veridical while representations can misrepresent. A popular solution to this challenge invokes a teleological analysis of ‘function.’ A brain state represents X by virtue of having the function of carrying information about being caused by X (Dretske 1988). These two approaches do not exhaust the popular options for a psychosemantics, but are the ones to which neuro philosophers have contributed.
Jerry Fodor and Ernest LePore raise an important challenge to Churchlands psychosemantics. Location in a state space alone seems insufficient to fix a state's representational content. Churchland never explains why a point in a three-dimensional state space represents the Collor, as opposed to any other quality, object, or event that varies along three dimensions. Churchlands account achieves its explanatory power by the interpretation imposed on the dimensions. Fodor and LePore allege that Churchland never specifies how a dimension comes to represent, e.g., degree of saltiness, as opposed to yellow-blue wavelength opposition. One obvious answer appeals to the stimuli that form the ‘external’ inputs to the neural network in question. Then, for example, the individuating conditions on neural representations of colours are that opponent processing neurons receive input from a specific class of photoreceptors. The latter in turn have electromagnetic radiation (of a specific portion of the visible spectrum) as their activating stimuli. However, this appeal to ‘external’ stimuli as the ultimate individuating conditions for representational content makes the resulting approach a version of informational semantics. Is this approach consonant with other neurobiological details?
The neurobiological paradigm for informational semantics is the feature detector: One or more neurons that are (I) maximally responsive to a particular type of stimulus, and (ii) have the function of indicating the presence of that stimulus type. Examples of such stimulus-types for visual feature detectors include high-contrast edges, motion direction, and colours. A favorite feature detector among philosophers is the alleged fly detector in the frog. Lettvin et al. (1959) identified cells in the frog retina that responded maximally to small shapes moving across the visual field. The idea that these cells' activity functioned to detect flies rested upon knowledge of the frogs' diet. Using experimental techniques ranging from single-cell recording to sophisticated functional imaging, neuroscientists have recently discovered a host of neurons that are maximally responsive to a variety of stimuli. However, establishing condition (ii) on a feature detector is much more difficult. Even some paradigm examples have been called into question. David Hubel and Torsten Wiesel's (1962) Nobel Prize winning work establishing the receptive fields of neurons in striate cortices are often interpreted as revealing cells whose function is edge detection. However, Lehky and Sejnowski (1988) have challenged this interpretation. They trained an artificial neural network to distinguish the three-dimensional shape and orientation of an object from its two-dimensional shading pattern. Their network incorporates many features of visual neurophysiology. Nodes in the trained network turned out to be maximally responsive to edge contrasts, but did not appear to have the function of edge detection.
Kathleen Akins (1996) offers a different neuro philosophical challenge to informational semantics and its affiliated feature-detection view of sensory representation. We saw in the previous section how Akins argues that the physiology of thermoreceptor violates three necessary conditions on ‘veridical’ representation. From this fact she draws doubts about looking for feature detecting neurons to ground a psychosemantics generally, including thought contents. Human thoughts about flies, for example, are sensitive to numerical distinctions between particular flies and the particular locations they can occupy. But the ends of frog nutrition are well served without a representational system sensitive to such ontological refinements. Whether a fly seen now is numerically identical to one seen a moment ago, need not, and perhaps cannot, figure into the frog's feature detection repertoire. Akins' critique casts doubt on whether details of sensory transduction will scale up to encompass of some adequately unified psychosemantics. It also raises new questions for human intentionality. How do we get from activity patterns in "narcissistic" sensory receptors, keyed not to "objective" environmental features but rather only to effects of the stimuli on the patch of tissue innervated, to the human ontology replete with enduring objects with stable configurations of properties and relations, types and their tokens (as the "fly-thought" example presented above reveals), and the rest? And how did the development of a stable, and rich ontology confer survival advantages to human ancestors?
Consciousness has reemerged as a topic in philosophy of mind and the cognitive and brain sciences over the past three decades. Instead of ignoring it, many physicalists now seek to explain it (Dennett, 1991). Here we focus exclusively on ways those neuroscientific discoveries have impacted philosophical debates about the nature of consciousness and its relation to physical mechanisms. Thomas Nagel argues that conscious experience is subjective, and thus permanently recalcitrant to objective scientific understanding. He invites us to ponder ‘what it is like to be a bat’ and urges the intuition that no amount of physical-scientific knowledge (including neuroscientific) supplies a complete answer. Nagel's intuition pump has generated extensive philosophical discussion. At least two well-known replies make direct appeal to neurophysiology. John Biro suggests that part of the intuition pumped by Nagel, that bat experience is substantially different from human experience, presupposes systematic relations between physiology and phenomenology. Kathleen Akins (1993) delves deeper into existing knowledge of bat physiology and reports much that is pertinent to Nagel's question. She argues that many of the questions about bat subjectivity that we still consider open hinge on questions that remain unanswered about neuroscientific details. One example of the latter is the function of various cortical activity profiles in the active bat.
The more recent philosopher David Chalmers (1996), has argued that any possible brain-process account of consciousness will leave open an ‘explanatory gap’ between the brain process and properties of the conscious experience. This is because no brain-process theory can answer the "hard" question: Why should that particular brain process give rise to conscious experience? We can always imagine ("conceive of") a universe populated by creatures having those brain processes but completely lacking conscious experience. A theory of consciousness requires an explanation of how and why some brain process causes consciousness replete with all the features we commonly experience. The fact that the hard question remains unanswered shows that we will probably never get a complete explanation of consciousness at the level of neural mechanisms. Paul and Patricia Churchland have recently offered the following diagnosis and reply. Chalmers offer a conceptual argument, based on our ability to imagine creatures possessing brains like ours but wholly lacking in conscious experience. But the more one learns about how the brain produces conscious experience-and literature is beginning to emerge (e.g., Gazzaniga, 1995)-the harder it becomes to imagine a universe consisting of creatures with brain processes like ours but lacking consciousness. This is not just to bare assertions. The Churchlands appeal to some neurobiological detail. For example, Paul Churchland (1995) develops a neuroscientific account of consciousness based on recurrent connections between thalamic nuclei (particularly "diffusely projecting" nuclei like the intralaminar nuclei) and the cortex. Churchland argues that the thalamocortical recurrency accounts for the selective features of consciousness, for the effects of short-term memory on conscious experience, for vivid dreaming during REM. (rapid-eye movement) sleep, and other "core" features of conscious experience. In other words, the Churchlands are claiming that when one learns about activity patterns in these recurrent circuits, one can't "imagine" or "conceive of" this activity occurring without these core features of conscious experience. (Other than just mouthing the words, "I am now imagining activity in these circuits without selective attention/the effects of short-term memory/vivid dreaming . . . ")
A second focus of sceptical arguments about a complete neuroscientific explanation of consciousness is sensory qualia: the introspectable qualitative aspects of sensory experience, the features by which subjects discern similarities and differences among their experiences. The colours of visual sensations are a philosopher's favorite example. One famous puzzle about colour qualia is the alleged conceivability of spectral inversions. Many philosophers claim that it is conceptually possible (if perhaps physically impossible) for two humans not to differ neurophysiological, while the Collor that fire engines and tomatoes appear to have to one subject is the Collor that grass and frogs appear to have to the other (and vice versa). A large amount of neuroscientifically-informed philosophy has addressed this question. A related area where neurophilosophical considerations have emerged concerns the metaphysics of colours themselves (rather than Collor experiences). A longstanding philosophical dispute is whether colours are objective property’s Existing external to perceiver or rather identifiable as or dependent upon minds or nervous systems. Some recent work on this problem begins with characteristics of Collor experiences: For example that Collor similarity judgments produce Collor orderings that align on a circle. With this resource, one can seek mappings of phenomenology onto environmental or physiological regularities. Identifying colours with particular frequencies of electromagnetic radiation does not preserve the structure of the hue circle, whereas identifying colours with activity in opponent processing neurons does. Such a tidbit is not decisive for the Collor objectivist-subjectivist debate, but it does convey the type of neurophilosophical work being done on traditional metaphysical issues beyond the philosophy of mind.
We saw in the discussion of Hardcastle (1997) two sections above that Neurophilosophers have entered disputes about the nature and methodological import of pain experiences. Two decades earlier, Dan Dennett (1978) took up the question of whether it is possible to build a computer that feels pain. He compares and notes pressure between neurophysiological discoveries and common sense intuitions about pain experience. He suspects that the incommensurability between scientific and common sense views is due to incoherence in the latter. His attitude is wait-and-see. But foreshadowing Churchland's reply to Chalmers, Dennett favours scientific investigations over conceivability-based philosophical arguments.
Neurological deficits have attracted philosophical interest. For thirty years philosophers have found implications for the unity of the self in experiments with commissurotomy patients. In carefully controlled experiments, commissurotomy patients display two dissociable seats of consciousness. Patricia Churchland scouts philosophical implications of a variety of neurological deficits. One deficit is blindsight. Some patients with lesions to primary visual cortex report being unable to see items in regions of their visual fields, yet perform far better than chance in forced guess trials about stimuli in those regions. A variety of scientific and philosophical interpretations have been offered. Ned Form (1988) worries that many of these conflate distinct notions of consciousness. He labels these notions ‘phenomenal consciousness’ (‘P-consciousness’) and ‘access consciousness’ (‘A-consciousness’). The former is that which, ‘what it is like-ness of experience. The latter is the availability of representational content to self-initiated action and speech. Form argues that P-consciousness is not always representational whereas A-consciousness is. Dennett and Michael Tye are sceptical of non-representational analyses of consciousness in general. They provide accounts of blindsight that do not depend on Form's distinction.
Many other topics are worth neurophilosophical pursuit. We mentioned commissurotomy and the unity of consciousness and the self, which continues to generate discussion. Qualia beyond those of Collor and pain have begun to attract neurophilosophical attention has self-consciousness. The first issues to arise in the ‘philosophy of neuroscience’ (before there was a recognized area) was the localization of cognitive functions to specific neural regions. Although the ‘localization’ approach had dubious origins in the phrenology of Gall and Spurzheim, and was challenged severely by Flourens throughout the early nineteenth century, it reemerged in the study of aphasia by Bouillaud, Auburtin, Broca, and Wernicke. These neurologists made careful studies (where possible) of linguistic deficits in their aphasic patients followed by brain autopsies postmortem. Broca's initial study of twenty-two patients in the mid-nineteenth century confirmed that damage to the left cortical hemisphere was predominant, and that damage to the second and third frontal convolutions was necessary to produce speech production deficits. Although the anatomical coordinates’ Broca postulates for the ‘speech production centres do not correlate exactly with damage producing production deficits, both are that in this area of frontal cortex and speech production deficits still bear his name (‘Broca's area’ and ‘Broca's aphasia’). Less than two decades later Carl Wernicke published evidence for a second language Centre. This area is anatomically distinct from Broca's area, and damage to it produced a very different set of aphasic symptoms. The cortical area that still bears his name (‘Wernicke's area’) is located around the first and second convolutions in temporal cortex, and the aphasia that bears his name (‘Wernicke's aphasia’) involves deficits in language comprehension. Wernicke's method, like Broca's, was based on lesion studies: a careful evaluation of the behavioural deficits followed by post mortem examination to find the sites of tissue damage and atrophy. Lesion studies suggesting more precise localization of specific linguistic functions remain a cornerstone to this day in aphasic research
Lesion studies have also produced evidence for the localization of other cognitive functions: for example, sensory processing and certain types of learning and memory. However, localization arguments for these other functions invariably include studies using animal models. With an animal model, one can perform careful behavioural measures in highly controlled settings, then ablate specific areas of neural tissue (or use a variety of other techniques to Form or enhance activity in these areas) and remeasure performance on the same behavioural tests. But since we lack an animal model for (human) language production and comprehension, this additional evidence isn't available to the neurologist or neurolinguist. This fact makes the study of language a paradigm case for evaluating the logic of the lesion/deficit method of inferring functional localization. Philosopher Barbara Von Eckardt (1978) attempts to make explicit the steps of reasoning involved in this common and historically important method. Her analysis begins with Robert Cummins' early analysis of functional explanation, but she extends it into a notion of structurally adequate functional analysis. These analyses break down a complex capacity C into its constituent capacity’s c1, c2, . . . cn, where the constituent capacities are consistent with the underlying structural details of the system. For example, human speech production (complex capacity C) results from formulating a speech intention, then selecting appropriate linguistic representations to capture the content of the speech intention, then formulating the motor commands to produce the appropriate sounds, then communicating these motor commands to the appropriate motor pathways (constituent capacity’s c1, c2, . . . , cn). A functional-localization hypothesis has the form: Brain structure S in an organism (type) O has constituent capacity ci, where ci is a function of some part of O. An example, Brains Broca's area (S) in humans (O) formulates motor commands to produce the appropriate sounds (one of the constituent capacities ci). Such hypotheses specify aspects of the structural realization of a functional-component model. They are part of the theory of the neural realization of the functional model.
Armed with these characterizations, Von Eckardt argues that inference to a functional-localization hypothesis proceeds in two steps. First, a functional deficit in a patient is hypothesized based on the abnormal behaviour the patient exhibits. Second, localization of function in normal brains is inferred on the basis of the functional deficit hypothesis plus the evidence about the site of brain damage. The structurally-adequate functional analysis of the capacity connects the pathological behaviour to the hypothesized functional deficit. This connection suggests four adequacy conditions on a functional deficit hypothesis. First, the pathological behaviour P (e.g., the speech deficits characteristic of Broca's aphasia) must result from failing to exercise some complex capacity C (human speech production). Second, there must be a structurally-adequate functional analysis of how people exercise capacity C that involves some constituent capacity ci (formulating motor commands to produce the appropriate sounds). Third, the operation of the steps described by the structurally-adequate functional analysis minus the operation of the component performing ci (Broca's area) must result in pathological behaviour P. Fourth, there must not be a better available explanation for why the patient does P. Arguments to a functional deficit hypothesis on the basis of pathological behaviour is thus an instance of argument to the best available explanation. When postulating a deficit in a normal functional component provides the best available explanation of the pathological data, we are justified in drawing the inference.
Von Eckardt applies this analysis to a neurological case study involving a controversial reinterpretation of agnosia. Her philosophical explication of this important neurological method reveals that most challenges to localization arguments of whether to argue only against the localization of a particular type of functional capacity or against generalizing from localization of function in one individual to all normal individuals. (She presents examples of each from the neurological literature.) Such challenges do not impugn the validity of standard arguments for functional localization from deficits. It does not follow that such arguments are unproblematic. But they face difficult factual and methodological problems, not logical ones. Furthermore, the analysis of these arguments as involving a type of functional analysis and inference to the best available explanation carries an important implication for the biological study of cognitive function. Functional analyses require functional theories, and structurally adequate functional analyses require checks imposed by the lower level sciences investigating the underlying physical mechanisms. Arguments to best available explanation are often hampered by a lack of theoretical imagination: the available explanations are often severely limited. We must seek theoretical inspiration from any level of theory and explanation. Hence making explicit the ‘logic’ of this common and historically important form of neurological explanation reveals the necessity of joint participation from all scientific levels, from cognitive psychology down to molecular neuroscience. Von Eckardt anticipated what came to be heralded as the ‘co-evolutionary research methodology,’ which remains a centerpiece of neurophilosophy to the present day.
Over the last two decades, evidence for localization of cognitive function has come increasingly from a new source: the development and refinement of neuroimaging techniques. The form of localization-of-function argument appears not to have changed from that employing lesion studies (as analysed by Von Eckardt). Instead, these imaging technologies resolve some of the methodological problems that plage lesion studies. For example, researchers do not need to wait until the patient dies, and in the meantime probably acquires additional brain damage, to find the lesion sites. Two functional imaging techniques are prominent: Positron emission tomography, or PET, and functional magnetic resonance imaging, or MRI. Although these measure different biological markers of functional activity, both now have a resolution down to around one millimetre. As these techniques increase spatial and temporal resolution of functional markers and continue to be used with sophisticated behavioural methodologies, the possibility of localizing specific psychological functions to increasingly specific neural regions continues to grow
What we now know about the cellular and molecular mechanisms of neural conductance and transmission is spectacular. The same evaluation holds for all levels of explanation and theory about the mind/brain: maps, networks, systems, and behaviour. This is a natural outcome of increasing scientific specialization. We develop the technology, the experimental techniques, and the theoretical frameworks within specific disciplines to push forward our understanding. Still, a crucial aspect of the total picture gets neglected: the relationship between the levels, the ‘glue’ that binds knowledge of neuron activity to subcellular and molecular mechanisms, network activity patterns to the activity of and connectivity between single neurons, and behavioural network activity. This problem is especially glaring when we focus on the relationship between ‘cognitivist’ psychological theories, postulating information-bearing representations and processes operating over their contents, and the activity patterns in networks of neurons. Co-evolution between explanatory levels still seems more like a distant dream rather than an operative methodology.
It is here that some neuroscientists appeal to ‘computational’ methods. If we examine the way that computational models function in more developed sciences (like physics), we find the resources of dynamical systems constantly employed. Global effects (such as large-scale meteorological patterns) are explained in terms of the interaction of ‘local’ lower-level physical phenomena, but only by dynamical, nonlinear, and often chaotic sequences and combinations. Addressing the interlocking levels of theory and explanation in the mind/brain using computational resources that have worked to bridge levels in more mature sciences might yield comparable results. This methodology is necessarily interdisciplinary, drawing on resources and researchers from a variety of levels, including higher levels like experimental psychology, ‘program-writing’ and ‘connectionist’ artificial intelligence, and philosophy of science.
However, the use of computational methods in neuroscience is not new. Hodgkin, Huxley, and Katz incorporated values of voltage-dependent potassium conductance they had measured experimentally in the squid giant axon into an equation from physics describing the time evolution of a first-order kinetic process. This equation enabled them to calculate best-fit curves for modelled conductance versus time data that reproduced the S-shaped (sigmoidal) function suggested by their experimental data. Using equations borrowed from physics, Rall (1959) developed the cable model of dendrites. This theory provided an account of how the various inputs from across the dendritic tree interact temporally and spatially to determine the input-output properties of single neurons. It remains influential today, and has been incorporated into the genesis software for programming neurally realistic networks. More recently, David Sparks and his colleagues have shown that a vector-averaging model of activity in neurons of superior colliculi correctly predicts experimental results about the amplitude and direction of saccadic eye movements. Working with a more sophisticated mathematical model, Apostolos Georgopoulos and his colleagues have predicted direction and amplitude of hand and arm movements based on averaged activity of 224 cells in motor cortices. Their predictions have borne out under a variety of experimental tests. We mention these particular studies only because we are familiar with them. We could multiply examples of the fruitful interaction of computational and experimental methods in neuroscience easily by one-hundred-fold. Many of these extend back before ‘computational neuroscience’ was a recognized research endeavour.
We've already seen one example, the vector transformation account, of neural representation and computation, under active development in cognitive neuroscience. Other approaches using ‘cognitivist’ resources are also being pursued. Many of these projects draw upon ‘cognitivist’ characterizations of the phenomena to be explained. Many exploit ‘cognitivist’ experimental techniques and methodologies. Some even attempt to derive ‘cognitivist’ explanations from cell-biological processes (e.g., Hawkins and Kandel 1984). As Stephen Kosslyn puts it, cognitive neuroscientists employ the ‘information processing’ view of the mind characteristic of cognitivism without trying to separate it from theories of brain mechanisms. Such an endeavour calls for an interdisciplinary community willing to communicate the relevant portions of the mountain of detail gathered in individual disciplines with interested nonspecialists: not just people willing to confer with those working at related levels, but researchers trained in the methods and factual details of a variety of levels. This is a daunting requirement, but it does offer some hope for philosophers wishing to contribute to future neuroscience. Thinkers trained in both the ‘synoptic vision’ afforded by philosophy and the factual and experimental basis of genuine graduate-level science would be ideally equipped for this task. Recognition of this potential niche has been slow among graduate programs in philosophy, but there is some hope that a few programs are taking steps to fill it.
In the final analysis there will be philosophers unprepared to accept that, if a given cognitive capacity is psychologically real, then there must be an explanation of how it is possible for an individual in the course of human development to acquire that cognitive capacity, or anything like it, can have a role to play in philosophical accounts of concepts and conceptual abilities. The most obvious basis for such a view would be a Frégean distrust of “psychology” that leads to a rigid division of labour between philosophy and psychology. The operative thought is that the task of a philosophical theory of concepts is to explain what a given concept is or what a given conceptual ability consist in. This, it is frequently maintained, is something that can be done in complete independence of explaining how such a concept or ability might be acquired. The underlying distinction is one between philosophical questions cantering around concept possession and psychological questions cantering around concept possibilities for an individual to acquire that ability, then it cannot be psychologically real. Nevertheless, this distinction is, however, strictly one does adhere to the distinction, it provides no support for a rejection of any given cognitive capacity for which is psychologically real. The neo-Frégean distinction is directly against the view that facts about how concepts are acquired have a role to play in explaining and individualizing concepts. But this view does not have to be disputed by a supporter as such, nonetheless, all that the supporter is to commit is that the principle that no satisfactory account of what a concept is should make it impossible to provide explanation of how that concept can be acquired. That is, that this principle has nothing to say about the further question of whether the psychological explanation has a role to play in a constitutive explanation of the concept, and hence is not in conflict with the neo-Frégean distinction.
A full account of the structure of consciousness, will need to illustrate those higher, conceptual forms of consciousness to which little attention on such an account will take and about how it might emerge from given points of value, is the thought that an explanation of everything that is distinctive about consciousness will emerge out of an account of what it is for a subject to be capable of thinking about himself. But, to a proper understanding of the complex phenomenon of consciousness. There are no facts about linguistic mastery that will determine or explain what might be termed the cognitive dynamics that are individual processes that have found their way forward for a theory of consciousness, it sees, to chart the characteristic features individualizing the various distinct conceptual forms of consciousness in a way that will provide a taxonomy of unconsciousness and they, to show how these manifest the characterlogical functions a can to determine at the level of content. What is hoped is now clear is that these forms of higher forms of consciousness emerge from a rich foundation of non-conceptual representations of thought, which can only expose and clarify their conviction that these forms of conscious thought hold the key, not just to an eventful account of how mastery of the conscious paradigms, but to a proper understanding of the plexuity of self-consciousness and/or the overall conjecture of consciousness that stands alone as to an everlasting vanquishment into the ever unchangeless state of unconsciousness, and its abysses are only held by incestuousness.
Theory itself, is consistent with fact or reality, not false or incorrect, but truthful, it is sincerely felt or expressed unforeignly and so, that it is essential and exacting of several standing rules and senses of governing requirements. As stapled or fitted in sensing the definitive criteria of narrowly particular possibilities in value as taken by a variaby accord with reality. To position of something, as to make it balanced, level or square, that we may think of a proper alignment as something, in so, that one is certain, like trust, another derivation of the same appears on the name is etymologically, or ‘strong seers’. Conformity of fact or the actuality of a statement as been or accepted as true to an original or standard set class theory from which it is considered as the supreme reality and to have the ultimate meaning, and value of existence. It is, nonetheless, a compound position, such as a conjunction or negation, the truth-values have always determined whose truth-values of that component thesis.
Moreover, science, unswerving exactly to position of something very well hidden, its nature in so that to make it believed, is quickly and imposes on sensing and responding to the definitive qualities or state of being actual or true, such that as a person, an entity, or an event, that might be gainfully employed of all things possessing actuality, existence, or essence. In other words, in that which is objectively inside and out, and in addition it seems to appropriate that of reality, in fact, to the satisfying factions of instinctual needs through the awarenesses of and adjustments abided to environmental demands. Thus, the act of realizing or the condition of truth as seen for being realized, and the existent remnants resulting throughout the retrogressive detentions that are undoubtingly realized.
However, a declaration made to explain or justify action, or its believing desire upon which it is to act, by which the conviction underlying facts or cause, that provide logical sense for a premise or occurrence for logical, rational. Analytic mental states have long since lost in reason, but, yet, the premise usually takes upon the minor premises of an argument, using this faculty of reason that arises to throughout the spoken exchange or a debative discussion, and, of course, spoken in a dialectic way. To determining or conclusively logical impounded by thinking through its directorial solution to the problem, would therefore persuade or dissuade someone with reason that posits of itself with the good sense or justification of reasonability. In which, good causes are simply justifiably to be considered as to think. By which humans seek or attain knowledge or truth. Mere reason is insufficient to convince ‘us’ of its veracity. Still, comprehension perceptively welcomes an intuitively given certainty, as the truth or fact, without the use of the rational process, as one comes to assessing someone’s character, it sublimely configures one consideration, and often with resulting comprehensions, in which it is assessing situations or circumstances and draw sound conclusions into the reign of judgement.
Governing by or being accorded to reason or sound thinking, in that a reasonable solution to the problem, may as well, in being without bounds of common sense and arriving to a fair use of reason, especially to form conclusions, inferences or judgements. In that, all evidential alternates of a confronting argument within the use in thinking or thought out responses to issuing the furthering argumentation to fit or join in the sum parts that are composite to the intellectual faculties, by which case human understanding or the attemptive grasp to its thought, are the resulting liberty encroaching men of zeal, well-meaningly, but without understanding.
Being or occurring in fact or having to some verifiable existence, real objects, and a real illness. . . .’Really true and actual and not imaginary, alleged, or ideal, as people and not ghosts, from which are we to find on practical matters and concerns of experiencing the real world. The surrounding surfaces, might we, as, perhaps attest to this for the first time. Being no less than what they state, we have not taken its free pretence, or affections for a real experience highly, as many may encounter real trouble. This, nonetheless, projects of an existing objectivity in which the world despite subjectivity or conventions of thought or language is or have valuing representation, reckoned by actual power, in that of relating to, or being an image formed by light or another identifiable simulation, that converge in space, the stationary or fixed properties, such as a thing or whole having actual existence. All of which, are accorded a truly factual experience into which the actual attestations have brought to you by the afforded efforts of our very own imaginations.
Ideally, in theory the imagination, a concept of reason that is transcendent but non-empirical as to think os conception of and ideal thought, that potentially or actual exists in the mind as a product exclusive to the mental act. In the philosophy of Plato, an archetype of which a corresponding being in phenomenal reality is an imperfect replica, that also, Hegel’s absolute truth, as the conception and ultimate product of reason (the absolute meaning a mental image of something remembered).
Conceivably, in the imagination the formation of a mental image of something that is or should be b perceived as real nor present to the senses. Nevertheless, the image so formed can confront and deal with the reality by using the creative powers of the mind. That is characteristically well removed from reality, but all powers of fantasy over reason are a degree of insanity/ still, fancy as they have given a product of the imagination free reins, that is in command of the fantasy while it is exactly the mark of the neurotic that his very own fantasy possesses him.
All things possessing actuality, existence or essence that exists objectively and in fact based on real occurrences that exist or known to have existed, a real occurrence, an event, i.e., had to prove the facts of the case, as something believed to be true or real, determining by evidence or truth as to do. However, the usage in the sense ‘allegation of fact’, and the reasoning are wrong of the ‘facts’ and ‘substantive facts’, as we may never know the ‘facts’ of the case’. These usages may occasion qualms’ among critics who insist that facts can only be true, but the usages are often useful for emphasis. Therefore, we have related to, or used the discovery or determinations of fast or accurate information in the discovery of facts, then evidence has determined the comprising events or truth is much as ado about their owing actuality. Its opposition forming the literature that treats real people or events as if they were fictional or uses real people or events as essential elements in an otherwise fictional rendition, i.e., of, relating to, produced by, or characterized by internal dissension, as given to or promoting internal dissension. So, then, it is produced artificially than by a natural process, especially the lacking authenticity or genuine factitious values of another than what is or of reality should be.
Looking back, one can see a discovering degree of homogeneity among the philosophers of the early twentieth century about the topics central to their concerns. More striking still, is the apparent profundities and abstrusity of concerns for which appear at first glance to be separated from the discerned debates of previous centuries, between ‘realism’ and ‘idealist’, say, of ‘rationalists’ and ‘empiricist’.
Thus, no matter what the current debate or discussion, the central issue is often without conceptual and contentual representations, that if one is without concept, is without idea, such that in one foul swoop would ingest the mere truth that lies to the underlying paradoxes of why is there something instead of nothing? Whatever it is that makes, what would otherwise be mere utterances and inscriptions into instruments of communication and understanding. This philosophical problem is to demystify this over-flowing emptiness, and to relate to what we know of ourselves and subjective matter’s resembling reality or ours is to an inherent perceptivity of the world and its surrounding surfaces.
Contributions to this study include the theory of ‘speech arts’, and the investigation of communicable communications, especially the relationship between words and ‘ideas’, and words and the ‘world’. It is, nonetheless, that which and utterance or sentence expresses, the proposition or claim made about the world. By extension, the content of a predicate that any expression effectively connecting with one or more singular terms to make a sentence, the expressed condition that the entities referred to may satisfy, in which case the resulting sentence will be true. Consequently we may think of a predicate as a function from things to sentences or even to truth-values, or other sub-sentential components that contribute to sentences that contain it. The nature of content is the central concern of the philosophy of language.
What some person expresses of a sentence often depends on the environment in which he or she is placed. For example, the disease I refer to by a term like ‘arthritis’ or the kind of tree I call of its criteria will define a ‘beech’ of which I know next to nothing. This raises the possibility of imaging two persons as an alternative different environment, but in which everything appears the same to each of them. The wide content of their thoughts and saying will be different if the situation surrounding them is appropriately different, ‘situation’ may here include the actual objects hey perceive, or the chemical or physical kinds of objects in the world they inhabit, or the history of their words, or the decisions of authorities on what counts as an example of one term thy use. The narrow content is that part of their thought that remains identical, through the identity of the way things appear, despite these differences of surroundings. Partisans of wide, . . . ‘as, something called broadly, content may doubt whether any content is in this sense narrow, partisans of narrow content believe that it is the fundamental notion, with wide content being on narrow content confirming context.
All and all, assuming their rationality has characterized people is common, and the most evident display of our rationality is capable to think. This is the rehearsal in the mind of what to say, or what to do. Not all thinking is verbal, since chess players, composers, and painters all think, and there is no deductive reason that their deliberations should take any more verbal a form than their actions. It is permanently tempting to conceive of this activity about the presence in the mind of elements of some language, or other medium that represents aspects of the world and its surrounding surface structures. However, the model has been attacked, notably by Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951), whose influential application of these ideas was in the philosophy of mind. Wittgenstein explores the role that reports of introspection, or sensations, or intentions, or beliefs can play of our social lives, to undermine the Cartesian mental picture is that they functionally describe the goings-on in an inner theatre of which the subject is the lone spectator. Passages that have subsequentially become known as the ‘rule following’ considerations and the ‘private language argument’ are among the fundamental topics of modern philosophy of language and mind, although their precise interpretation is endlessly controversial.
Effectively, the hypotheses especially associated with Jerry Fodor (1935-), whom is known for the ‘resolute realism’, about the nature of mental functioning, that occurs in a language different from one’s ordinary native language, but underlying and explaining our competence with it. The idea is a development of the notion of an innate universal grammar (Avram Noam Chomsky, 1928-), in as such, that we agree that since a computer programs are linguistically complex sets of instructions were the relative executions by which explains of surface behaviour or the adequacy of the computerized programming installations, if it were definably amendable and, advisably corrective, in that most are disconcerting of many that are ultimately a reason for ‘us’ of thinking intuitively and without the indulgence of retrospective preferences, but an ethical majority in defending of its moral line that is already confronting ‘us’. That these programs may or may not improve to conditions that are lastly to enhance of the right sort of an existence forwarded toward a more valuing amount in humanities lesser extensions that embrace one’s riff of necessity to humanities’ abeyance to expressions in the finer of qualities.
As an explanation of ordinary language-learning and competence, the hypothesis has not found universal favour, as only ordinary representational powers that by invoking the image of the learning person’s capabilities are apparently whom the abilities for translating are contending of an innate language whose own powers are mysteriously a biological given. Perhaps, the view that everyday attributions of intentionality, beliefs, and meaning to other persons proceed by means of a tactic use of a theory that enables one to construct these interpretations as explanations of their doings. We commonly hold the view along with ‘functionalism’, according to which psychological states are theoretical entities, identified by the network of their causes and effects. The theory-theory has different implications, depending upon which feature of theories we are stressing. Theories may be thought of as capable of formalization, as yielding predictions and explanations, as achieved by a process of theorizing, as answering to empirical evidence that is in principle describable without them, as liable to be overturned by newer and better theories, and so on.
The main problem with seeing our understanding of others as the outcome of a piece of theorizing is the nonexistence of a medium in which this theory can be couched, as the child learns simultaneously the minds of others and the meaning of terms in its native language, is not gained by the tactic use of a ‘theory’, enabling ‘us’ to infer what thoughts or intentions explain their actions, but by re-living the situation ‘in their shoes’ or from their point of view, and by that understanding what they experienced and theory, and therefore expressed. Understanding others is achieved when we can ourselves deliberate as they did, and hear their words as if they are our own. The suggestion is a modern development frequently associated in the ‘Verstehen’ traditions of Dilthey (1833-1911), Weber (1864-1920) and Collingwood (1889-1943).
We may call any process of drawing a conclusion from a set of premises a process of reasoning. If the conclusion concerns what to do, the process is called practical reasoning, otherwise pure or theoretical reasoning. Evidently, such processes may be good or bad, if they are good, the premises support or even entail the conclusion drawn, and if they are bad, the premises offer no support to the conclusion. Formal logic studies the cases in which conclusions are validly drawn from premises, but little human reasoning is overly of the forms logicians identify. Partly, we are concerned to draw conclusions that ‘go beyond’ our premises, in the way that conclusions of logically valid arguments do not for the process of using evidence to reach a wider conclusion. Nonetheless, such anticipatory pessimism in the opposite direction to the prospects of conformation theory, denying that we can assess the results of abduction in terms of probability. A cognitive process of reasoning in which a conclusion is played-out from a set of premises usually confined of cases in which the conclusions are supposed in following from the premises, i.e., an inference is logically valid, in that of deductibility in a logically defined syntactic premise but without there being to any reference to the intended interpretation of its theory. Furthermore, as we reason we use indefinite traditional knowledge or commonsense sets of presuppositions about what it is likely or not a task of an automated reasoning project, which is to mimic this causal use of knowledge of the way of the world in computer programs.
Some ‘theories’ usually emerge themselves of engaging to exceptionally explicit predominancy as [ supposed ] truths that they have not organized, making the theory difficult to survey or study as a whole. The axiomatic method is an idea for organizing a theory, one in which tries to select from among the supposed truths a small number from which they can see all others to be deductively inferable. This makes the theory more tractable since, in a sense, they contain all truths in those few. In a theory so organized, they call the few truths from which they deductively imply all others ‘axioms’. David Hilbert (1862-1943) had argued that, just as algebraic and differential equations, which we were used to study mathematical and physical processes, could have themselves be made mathematical objects, so axiomatic theories, like algebraic and differential equations, which are means to representing physical processes and mathematical structures could be of investigating.
Conformation to theory, the philosophy of science, is a generalization or set referring to unobservable entities, i.e., atoms, genes, quarks, unconscious wishes. The ideal gas law, for example, refer to such observable pressures, temperature, and volume, the ‘molecular-kinetic theory’ refers to molecules and their material possession, . . . although an older usage suggests the lack of adequate evidence in support thereof, as an existing philosophical usage does in truth, follow in the tradition (as in Leibniz, 1704), as many philosophers had the conviction that all truths, or all truths about a particular domain, followed from as few than for being many governing principles. These principles were taken to be either metaphysically prior or epistemologically prior or both. In the first sense, they we took to be entities of such a nature that what exists s ‘caused’ by them. When the principles were taken as epistemologically prior, that is, as ‘axioms’, they were taken to be either epistemologically privileged, e.g., self-evident, not needing to be demonstrated, or again, included ‘or’, to such that all truths so truly follow from them by deductive inferences. Gödel (1984) showed in the spirit of Hilbert, treating axiomatic theories as themselves mathematical objects that mathematics, and even a small part of mathematics, elementary number theory, could not be axiomatized, that more precisely, any class of axioms that is such that we could effectively decide, of any proposition, whether or not it was in that class, would be too small to capture in of the truths.
The notion of truth occurs with remarkable frequency in our reflections on language, thought and action. We are inclined to suppose, for example, that truth is the proper aim of scientific inquiry, that true beliefs help to achieve our goals, that to understand a sentence is to know which circumstances would make it true, that reliable preservation of truth as one argues of valid reasoning, that moral pronouncements should not be regarded as objectively true, and so on. To assess the plausibility of such theses, and to refine them and to explain why they hold (if they do), we require some view of what truth be a theory that would account for its properties and its relations to other matters. Thus, there can be little prospect of understanding our most important faculties in the sentence of a good theory of truth.
Such a thing, however, has been notoriously elusive. The ancient idea that truth is some sort of ‘correspondence with reality’ has still never been articulated satisfactorily, and the nature of the alleged ‘correspondence’ and the alleged ‘reality’ persistently remains objectionably enigmatical. Yet the familiar alternative suggestions that true beliefs are those that are ‘mutually coherent’, or ‘pragmatically useful’, or ‘verifiable in suitable conditions’ has each been confronted with persuasive counterexamples. A twentieth-century departure from these traditional analyses is the view that truth is not a property at all that the syntactic form of the predicate, ‘is true’, distorts its really semantic character, which is not to describe propositions but to endorse them. Nevertheless, we have also faced this radical approach with difficulties and suggest, counter intuitively that truth cannot have the vital theoretical role in semantics, epistemology and elsewhere that we are naturally inclined to give it. Thus, truth threatens to remain one of the most enigmatic of notions: An explicit account of it can seem essential yet beyond our reach. All the same, recent work provides some evidence for optimism.
A theory is based in philosophy of science, is a generalization or se of generalizations purportedly referring to observable entities, i.e., atoms, quarks, unconscious wishes, and so on. The ideal gas law, for example, cites to only such observable pressures, temperature, and volume, the molecular-kinetic theory refers top molecules and their properties, although an older usage suggests the lack of an adequate make out in support therefrom as merely a theory, latter-day philosophical usage does not carry that connotation. Einstein’s special and General Theory of Relativity, for example, is taken to be extremely well founded.
These are two main views on the nature of theories. According to the ‘received view’ theories are partially interpreted axiomatic systems, according to the semantic view, a theory is a collection of models (Suppe, 1974). By which, some possibilities, unremarkably emerge as supposed truths that no one has neatly systematized by making theory difficult to make a survey of or study as a whole. The axiomatic method is an ideal for organizing a theory (Hilbert, 1970), one tries to select from among the supposed truths a small number from which they can see all the others to be deductively inferable. This makes the theory more tractable since, in a sense, they contain all truth’s in those few. In a theory so organized, they call the few truths from which they deductively incriminate all others ‘axioms’. David Hilbert (1862-1943) had argued that, morally justified as algebraic and differential equations, which were antiquated into the study of mathematical and physical processes, could hold on to themselves and be made mathematical objects, so they could make axiomatic theories, like algebraic and differential equations, which are means of representing physical processes and mathematical structures, objects of mathematical investigation.
In the tradition (as in Leibniz, 1704), many philosophers had the conviction that all truths, or all truths about a particular domain, followed from a few principles. These principles were taken to be either metaphysically prior or epistemologically prior or both. In the first sense, they were taken to be entities of such a nature that what exists is ‘caused’ by them. When the principles were taken as epistemologically prior, that is, as ‘axioms’, they were taken to be either epistemologically privileged, i.e., self-evident, not needing to be demonstrated, or again, inclusive ‘or’, to be such that all truths do in truth follow from them (by deductive inferences). Gödel (1984) showed in the spirit of Hilbert, treating axiomatic theories as themselves mathematical objects that mathematics, and even a small part. Of mathematics, elementary number theory, could not be axiomatized, that, more precisely, any class of axioms that is such that we could effectively decide, of any proposition, whether or not it was in that class, would be too small to capture all of the truths.
The notion of truth occurs with remarkable frequency in our reflections on language, thought, and action. We are inclined to suppose, for example, that truth is the proper aim of scientific inquiry, that true beliefs help ‘us’ to achieve our goals, tat to understand a sentence is to know which circumstances would make it true, that reliable preservation of truth as one argues from premises to a conclusion is the mark of valid reasoning, that moral pronouncements should not be regarded as objectively true, and so on. In order to assess the plausible of such theses, and in order to refine them and to explain why they hold, if they do, we expect some view of what truth be of a theory that would keep an account of its properties and its relations to other matters. Thus, there can be little prospect of understanding our most important faculties without a good theory of truth.
The ancient idea that truth is one sort of ‘correspondence with reality’ has still never been articulated satisfactorily: The nature of the alleged ‘correspondence’ and te alleged ‘reality remains objectivably rid of obstructions. Yet, the familiar alternative suggests ~. That true beliefs are those that are ‘mutually coherent’, or ‘pragmatically useful’, or‘verifiable in suitable conditions has each been confronted with persuasive counterexamples. A twentieth-century departure from these traditional analyses is the view that truth is not a property at al ~. That the syntactic form of the predicate,‘ . . . is true’, distorts the ‘real’ semantic character, with which is not to describe propositions but to endorse them. Still, this radical approach is also faced with difficulties and suggests, counter intuitively that truth cannot have the vital theoretical role in semantics, epistemology and elsewhere that we are naturally inclined to give it. Thus, truth threatens to remain one of the most enigmatic of notions, and a confirming account of it can seem essential yet, on the far side of our reach. However, recent work provides some grounds for optimism.
The belief that snow is white owes its truth to a certain feature of the external world, namely, to the fact that snow is white. Similarly, the belief that dogs bark is true because of the fact that dogs bark. This trivial observation leads to what is perhaps the most natural and popular account of truth, the ‘correspondence theory’, according to which a belief (statement, a sentence, propositions, etc. (as true just in case there exists a fact corresponding to it (Wittgenstein, 1922, Austin! 950). This thesis is unexceptionable, however, if it is to provide a rigorous, substantial and complete theory of truth ~. If it is to be more than merely a picturesque way of asserting all equivalences to the form. The belief that ‘p’ is true ‘p’.
Then it must be supplemented with accounts of what facts are, and what it is for a belief to correspond to a fact, and these are the problems on which the correspondence theory of truth has floundered. For one thing, it is far from going unchallenged that any significant gain in understanding is achieved by reducing ‘the belief that snow is white is’ true’ to the facts that snow is white exists: For these expressions look equally resistant to analysis and too close in meaning for one to provide a crystallizing account of the other. In addition, the undistributed relationship that holds in particular between the belief that snow is white and the fact that snow is white, between the belief that dogs bark and the fact that a ‘dog barks’, and so on, is very hard to identify. The best attempt to date is Wittgenstein’s 1922, so-called ‘picture theory’, by which an elementary proposition is a configuration of terms, with whatever stare of affairs it reported, as an atomic fact is a configuration of simple objects, an atomic fact corresponds to an elementary proposition and makes it true, when their configurations are identical and when the terms in the proposition for it to the similarly-placed objects in the fact, and the truth value of each complex proposition the truth values entail of the elementary ones. However, eve if this account is correct as far as it goes, it would need to be completed with plausible theories of ‘logical configuration’, ‘rudimentary proposition’, ‘reference’ and ‘entailment’, none of which is better-off to come.
The cental characteristic of truth One that any adequate theory must explain is that when a proposition satisfies its ‘conditions of proof or verification’ then it is regarded as true. To the extent that the property of corresponding with reality is mysterious, we are going to find it impossible to see what we take to verify a proposition should show the possession of that property. Therefore, a tempting alternative to the correspondence theory an alternative that eschews obscure, metaphysical concept that explains quite straightforwardly why Verifiability infers, truth is simply to identify truth with Verifiability (Peirce, 1932). This idea can take on variously formed. One version involves the further assumption that verification is ‘holistic’, . . . ‘in that a belief is justified (i.e., verified) when it is part of an entire system of beliefs that are consistent and ‘counter balanced’ (Bradley, 1914 and Hempel, 1935). This is known as the ‘coherence theory of truth’. Another version involves the assumption associated with each proposition, some specific procedure for finding out whether one should believe it or not. On this account, to say that a proposition is true is to sa that the appropriate procedure would verify (Dummett, 1979. and Putnam, 1981). While mathematics this amounts to the identification of truth with provability.
The attractions of the verificationist account of truth are that it is refreshingly clear compared with the correspondence theory, and that it succeeds in connecting truth with verification. The trouble is that the bond it postulates between these notions is implausibly strong. We do in true statements’ take verification to indicate truth, but also we recognize the possibility that a proposition may be false in spite of there being impeccable reasons to believe it, and that a proposition may be true although we are not able to discover that it is. Verifiability and ruth are no doubt highly correlated, but surely not the same thing.
A third well-known account of truth is known as ‘pragmatism’ (James, 1909 and Papineau, 1987). As we have just seen, the verificationist selects a prominent property of truth and considers the essence of truth. Similarly, the pragmatist focuses on another important characteristic namely, that true belief is a good basis for action and takes this to be the very nature of truth. True assumpsitions are said to be, by definition, those that provoke actions with desirable results. Again, we have an account statement with a single attractive explanatory characteristic, besides, it postulates between truth and its alleged analysand in this case, utility is implausibly close. Granted, true belief tends to foster success, but it happens regularly that actions based on true beliefs lead to disaster, while false assumptions, by pure chance, produce wonderful results.
One of the few uncontroversial facts about truth is that the proposition that snow is white if and only if snow is white, the proposition that lying is wrong is true if and only if lying is wrong, and so on. Traditional theories acknowledge this fact but regard it as insufficient and, as we have seen, inflate it with some further principle of the form, ‘X is true if and only if ‘X’ has property ‘P’ (such as corresponding to reality, Verifiability, or being suitable as a basis for action), which is supposed to specify what truth is. Some radical alternatives to the traditional theories result from denying the need for any such further specification (Ramsey, 1927, Strawson, 1950 and Quine, 1990). For example, ne might suppose that the basic theory of truth contains nothing more that equivalences of the form, ‘The proposition that ‘p’ is true if and only if ‘p’ (Horwich, 1990).
That is, a proposition, ‘K’ with the following properties, that from ‘K’ and any further premises of the form. ‘Einstein’s claim was the proposition that p’ you can imply p’. Whatever it is, now supposes, as the deflationist says, that our understanding of the truth predicate consists in the stimulative decision to accept any instance of the schema. ‘The proposition that p is true if and only if p’, then your problem is solved. For ‘K’ is the proposition, ‘Einstein’s claim is true ’, it will have precisely the inferential power needed. From it and ‘Einstein’s claim is the proposition that quantum mechanics are wrong’, you can use Leibniz’s law to imply ‘The proposition that quantum mechanic is wrong is true; which given the relevant axiom of the deflationary theory, allows you to derive ‘Quantum mechanics is wrong’. Thus, one point in favour of the deflationary theory is that it squares with a plausible story about the function of our notion of truth, in that its axioms explain that function without the need for further analysis of ‘what truth is’.
Not all variants of deflationism have this quality virtue, according to the redundancy performatives theory of truth, the pair of sentences, ‘The proposition that p is true’ and plain ‘p’s’, has the same meaning and expresses the same statement as one and another, so it is a syntactic illusion to think that p is true’ attributes any sort of property to a proposition (Ramsey, 1927 and Strawson, 1950). Yet in that case, it becomes hard to explain why we are entitled to infer ‘The proposition that quantum mechanics are wrong is true’ form ‘Einstein’s claim is the proposition that quantum mechanics are wrong. ‘Einstein’s claim is true’. For if truth is not property, then we can no longer account for the inference by invoking the law that if ‘X’, appears identical with ‘Y’ then any property of ‘X’ is a property of ‘Y’, and vice versa. Thus the redundancy/performatives theory, by identifying rather than merely correlating the contents of ‘The proposition that p is true’ and ‘p, precludes the prospect of a good explanation of one on truth’s most significant and useful characteristics. So, putting restrictions on our assembling claim to the weak is better, of its equivalence schema: The proposition that ‘p’ is true is and is only ‘p’.
Support for deflationism depends upon the possibleness of showing that its axiom instances of the equivalence schema unsupplements by any further analysis, will suffice to explain all the central facts about truth, for example, that the verification of a proposition indicates its truth, and that true beliefs have a practical value. The first of these facts follows trivially from the deflationary axioms, for given ours a prior knowledge of the equivalence of ‘p’ and ‘The a propositions that ‘p is true’, any reason to believe that ‘p’ becomes an equally good reason to believe that the preposition that ‘p’ is true. We can also explain the second fact in terms of the deflationary axioms, but not quite so easily. Consider, to begin with, beliefs of the form that if I perform the act ‘A’, then my desires will be fulfilled. Notice that the psychological role of such a belief is, roughly, to cause the performance of ‘A’. In other words, given that I do have belief, then typically.
I will perform the act ‘A’
Notice also that when the belief is true then, given the deflationary axioms, the performance of ‘A’ will in fact lead to the fulfilment of one’s desires, i.e., If being true, then if I perform ‘A’, and my desires will be fulfilled.
Therefore, if it is true, then my desires will be fulfilled. So valuing the truth of beliefs of that form is quite treasonable. Nevertheless, inference has derived such beliefs from other beliefs and can be expected to be true if those other beliefs are true. So assigning a value to the truth of any belief that might be used in such an inference is reasonable.
To the extent that such deflationary accounts can be given of all the acts involving truth, then the explanatory demands on a theory of truth will be met by the collection of all statements like, ‘The proposition that snow is white is true if and only if snow is white’, and the sense that some deep analysis of truth is needed will be undermined.
Nonetheless, there are several strongly felt objections to deflationism. One reason for dissatisfaction is that the theory has an infinite number of axioms, and therefore cannot be completely written down. It can be described, as the theory whose axioms are the propositions of the fore ‘p if and only if it is true that p’, but not explicitly formulated. This alleged defect has led some philosophers to develop theories that show, first, how the truth of any proposition derives from the referential properties of its constituents, and second, how the referential properties of primitive constituents are determinated (Tarski, 1943 and Davidson, 1969). However, assuming that all propositions including belief attributions remain controversial, law of nature and counterfactual conditionals depends for their truth values on what their constituents refer to implicate. In addition, there is no immediate prospect of a presentable, finite possibility of reference, so that it is far form clear that the infinite, list-like character of deflationism can be avoided.
Additionally, it is commonly supposed that problems about the nature of truth are intimately bound up with questions as to the accessibility and autonomy of facts in various domains: Questions about whether the facts can be known, and whether they can exist independently of our capacity to discover them (Dummett, 1978, and Putnam, 1981). One might reason, for example, that if ‘T is true’ means’ nothing more than ‘T will be verified’, then certain forms of scepticism, specifically, those that doubt the correctness of our methods of verification, that will be precluded, and that the facts will have been revealed as dependent on human practices. Alternatively, it might be said that if truth were an inexplicable, primitive, non-epistemic property, then the fact that ‘T’ is true would be completely independent of ‘us’. Moreover, we could, in that case, have no reason to assume that the propositions we believe in, that in adopting its property, so scepticism would be unavoidable. In a similar vein, it might be thought that as special, and perhaps undesirable features of the deflationary approach, is that truth is deprived of such metaphysical or epistemological implications.
Upon closer scrutiny, in that, it is far from clear that there exists ‘any’ account of truth with consequences regarding the accessibility or autonomy of non-semantic matters. For although an account of truth may be expected to have such implications for facts of the form ‘T is true’, it cannot be assumed without further argument that the same conclusions will apply to the fact ’T’. For it cannot be assumed that ‘T’ and ‘T’ are true’ and is equivalent to one another given the account of ‘true’ that is being employed. Of course, if truth is defined in the way that the deflationist proposes, then the equivalence holds by definition. Nevertheless, if truth is defined by reference to some metaphysical or epistemological characteristic, then the equivalence schema is thrown into doubt, pending some demonstration that the trued predicate, in the sense assumed, will be satisfied in as far as there are thought to be epistemological problems hanging over ‘T’s’ that do not threaten ‘T is true’, giving the needed demonstration will be difficult. Similarly, if ‘truth’ is so defined that the fact, ‘T’ is felt to be more, or less, independent of human practices than the fact that ‘T is true’, then again, it is unclear that the equivalence schema will hold. It would seem, therefore, that the attempt to base epistemological or metaphysical conclusions on a theory of truth must fail because in any such attempt the equivalence schema will be simultaneously relied on and undermined.
The most influential idea in the theory of meaning in the past hundred yeas is the thesis that meaning of an indicative sentence is given by its truth-conditions. On this conception, to understand a sentence is to know its truth-conditions. The conception was first clearly formulated by Frége (1848-1925), was developed in a distinctive way by the early Wittgenstein (1889-1951), and is a leading idea of Davidson (1917-). The conception has remained so central that those who offer opposing theories characteristically define their position by reference to it.
The conception of meaning as truth-conditions necessarily are not and should not be advanced as a complete account of meaning. For instance, one who understands a language must have some idea of the range of speech acts conventionally acted by the various types of a sentence in the language, and must have some idea of the significance of various kinds of speech acts. The claim of the theorist of truth-conditions should as an alternative is targeted on the notion of content: If two indicative sentences differ in what they strictly and literally say, then this difference is fully accounted for by the difference in their truth-conditions. Most basic to truth-conditions is simply of a statement that is the condition the world must meet if the statement is to be true. To know this condition is equivalent to knowing the meaning of the statement. Although this sounds as if it gives a solid anchorage for meaning, some of the security disappears when it turns out that the truth condition can only be defined by repeating the very same statement, as a truth condition of ‘snow is white’ is that snow is white, the truth condition of ‘Britain would have capitulated had Hitler invaded’ is the Britain would have capitulated had Hitler invaded. It is disputed whether this element of running-on-the-spot disqualifies truth conditions from playing the central role in a substantive theory of meaning. Truth-conditional theories of meaning are sometimes opposed by the view that to know the meaning of a statement is to be able to use it in a network of inferences.
Whatever it is that makes, what would otherwise be mere sounds and inscriptions into instruments of communication and understanding. The philosophical problem is to demystify this power, and to relate it to what we know of ourselves and the world. Contributions to the study include the theory of ‘speech acts’ and the investigation of communication and the relationship between words and ideas and the world and surrounding surfaces, by which some persons express by a sentence are often a function of the environment in which he or she is placed. For example, the disease I refer to by a term like ‘arthritis’ or the kind of tree I refer to as a ‘maple’ will be defined by criteria of which I know next to nothing. The raises the possibility of imagining two persons in alternatively differently environmental, but in which everything appears the same to each of them, but between them they define a space of philosophical problems. They are the essential components of understanding nd any intelligible proposition that is true must be capable of being understood. Such that which is expressed by an utterance or sentence, the proposition or claim made about the world may by extension, the content of a predicated or other sub-sentential component is what it contributes to the content of sentences that contain it. The nature of content is the cental concern of the philosophy of language.
In particularly, the problems of indeterminancy of translation, inscrutability of reference, language, predication, reference, rule following, semantics, translation, and the topics referring to subordinate headings associated with ‘logic’. The loss of confidence in determinate meaning (‘Each is another encoding’) is an element common both to postmodern uncertainties in the theory of criticism, and to the analytic tradition that follows writers such as Quine (1908-). Still it may be asked, why should we suppose that fundamental epistemic notions should be keep an account of for in behavioural terms what grounds are there for supposing that ‘p knows p’ is a subjective matter in the prestigiousness of its statement between some subject statement and physical theory of physically forwarded of an objection, between nature and its mirror? The answer is that the only alternative seems to be to take knowledge of inner states as premises from which our knowledge of other things is normally implied, and without which our knowledge of other things is normally inferred, and without which knowledge would be ungrounded. However, it is not really coherent, and does not in the last analysis make sense, to suggest that human knowledge have foundations or grounds. It should be remembered that to say that truth and knowledge ‘can only be judged by the standards of our own day’ is not to say that it is less meaningful nor is it ‘more “cut off from the world, which we had supposed. Conjecturing it is as just‘ that nothing counts as justification, unless by reference to what we already accept, and that at that place is no way to get outside our beliefs and our oral communication so as to find some experiment with others than coherence. The fact is that the professional philosophers have thought it might be otherwise, since one and only they are haunted by the clouds of epistemological scepticism.
What Quine opposes as ‘residual Platonism’ is not so much the hypostasising of non-physical entities as the notion of ‘correspondence’ with things as the final court of appeal for evaluating present practices. Unfortunately, Quine, for all that it is incompatible with its basic insights, substitutes for this correspondence to physical entities, and specially to the basic entities, whatever they turn out to be, of physical science. Nevertheless, when their doctrines are purified, they converge on a single claim. That no account of knowledge can depend on the assumption of some privileged relations to reality. Their work brings out why an account of knowledge can amount only to a description of human behaviour.
What, then, is to be said of these ‘inner states’, and of the direct reports of them that have played so important a role in traditional epistemology? For a person to feel is nothing else than for him to have an ability to make a certain type of non-inferential report, to attribute feelings to infants is to acknowledge in them latent abilities of this innate kind. Non-conceptual, non-linguistic ‘knowledge’ of what feelings or sensations is like is attributively to beings on the basis of potential membership of our community. Infants and the more attractive animals are credited with having feelings on the basis of that spontaneous sympathy that we extend to anything humanoid, in contrast with the mere ‘response to stimuli’ attributed to photoelectric cells and to animals about which no one feels sentimentally. Supposing that moral prohibition against hurting infants is consequently wrong and the better-looking animals are; those moral prohibitions grounded’ in their possession of feelings. The relation of dependence is really the other way round. Similarly, we could not be mistaken in supposing that a four-year-old child has knowledge, but no one-year-old, any more than we could be mistaken in taking the word of a statute that eighteen-year-old can marry freely but seventeen-year-old cannot. (There is no more ‘ontological ground’ for the distinction that may suit ‘us’ to make in the former case than in the later.) Again, such a question as ‘Are robots’ conscious?’ Calling for a decision on our part whether or not to treat robots as members of our linguistic community. All this is a piece with the insight brought into philosophy by Hegel (1770-1831), that the individual apart from his society is just another animal.
Willard van Orman Quine, the most influential American philosopher of the latter half of the 20th century, when after the wartime period in naval intelligence, punctuating the rest of his career with extensive foreign lecturing and travel. Quine’s early work was on mathematical logic, and issued in “A System of Logistic” (1934), “Mathematical Logic” (1940), and “Methods of Logic” (1950), whereby it was with the collection of papers from a “Logical Point of View” (1953) that his philosophical importance became widely recognized. Quine’s work dominated concern with problems of convention, meaning, and synonymy cemented by “Word and Object” (1960), in which the indeterminancy of radical translation first takes centre-stage. In this and many subsequent writings Quine takes a bleak view of the nature of the language with which we ascribe thoughts and beliefs to ourselves and others. These ‘intentional idioms’ resist smooth incorporation into the scientific world view, and Quine responds with scepticism toward them, not quite endorsing ‘eliminativism’, but regarding them as second-rate idioms, unsuitable for describing strict and literal facts. For similar reasons he has consistently expressed suspicion of the logical and philosophical propriety of appeal to logical possibilities and possible worlds. The languages that are properly behaved and suitable for literal and true descriptions of the world as those of mathematics and science. The entities to which our best theories refer must be taken with full seriousness in our ontologies, although an empiricist. Quine thus supposes that the abstract objects of set theory are required by science, and therefore exist. In the theory of knowledge Quine associated with a ‘holistic view’ of verification, conceiving of a body of knowledge in terms of a web touching experience at the periphery, but with each point connected by a network of relations to other points.
Quine is also known for the view that epistemology should be naturalized, or conducted in a scientific spirit, with the object of investigation being the relationship, in human beings, between the voice of experience and the outputs of belief. Although Quine’s approaches to the major problems of philosophy have been attacked as betraying undue ‘scientism’ and sometimes ‘behaviourism’, the clarity of his vision and the scope of his writing made him the major focus of Anglo-American work of the past forty years in logic, semantics, and epistemology. As well as the works cited his writings’ cover “The Ways of Paradox and Other Essays” (1966), “Ontological Relativity and Other Essays” (1969), “Philosophy of Logic” (1970), “The Roots of Reference” (1974) and “The Time of My Life: An Autobiography” (1985).
Coherence is a major player in the theatre of knowledge. There are cogence theories of belief, truth and justification, as these are to combine themselves in the various ways to yield theories of knowledge coherence theories of belief are concerned with the content of beliefs. Consider a belief you now have, the beliefs that you are reading a page in a book, in so, that what makes that belief the belief that it is? What makes it the belief that you are reading a page in a book than the belief that you have a monster in the garden?
One answer is that the belief has a coherent place or role in a system of beliefs, perception or the having the perceptivity that has its influence on beliefs. As, you respond to sensory stimuli by believing that you are reading a page in a book than believing that you have a monster in the garden. Belief has an influence on action, or its belief is a desire to act, if belief will differentiate the differences between them, that its belief is a desire or if you were to believe that you are reading a page than if you believed in something about a monster. Sortal perceptivals hold accountably the perceptivity and action that are indeterminate to its content if its belief is the action as if stimulated by its inner and latent coherence in that of your belief, however. The same stimuli may produce various beliefs and various beliefs may produce the same action. The role that gives the belief the content it has is the role it plays within a network of relations to other beliefs, some latently causal than others that relate to the role in inference and implication. For example, I infer different things from believing that I am reading a page in a book than from any other belief, justly as I infer about other beliefs.
The information of perceptibility and the output of an action supplement the central role of the systematic relations the belief has to other belief, but the systematic relations give the belief the specific contentual representation it has. They are the fundamental source of the content of belief. That is how coherence comes in. A belief has the representational content by which it does because of the way in which it coheres within a system of beliefs (Rosenberg, 1988). We might distinguish weak coherence theories of the content of beliefs from stronger coherence theories. Weak coherence theories affirm that coherence is one determinant of the representation given that the contents are of belief. Strong coherence theories of the content of belief affirm that coherence is the sole determinant of the contentual representations of belief.
When we turn from belief to justification, we confront a similar group of coherence theories. What makes one belief justified and another not? Again, there is a distinction between weak and strong theoretic principles that govern its theory of coherence. Weak theories tell ‘us’ that the way in which a belief coheres with a background system of beliefs is one determinant of justification, other typical determinants being perception, memory, and intuitive ‘projection’, are, however strong theories, or dominant projections are in coherence to justification as solely a matter of how a belief coheres with a system of latent hierarchal beliefs. There is, nonetheless, another distinction that cuts across the distinction between weak and strong coherence theories between positive and negative coherence theory (Pollock, 1986). A positive coherence theory tells ‘us’ that if a belief coheres with a background system of belief, then the belief is justifiable. A negative coherence theory tells ‘us’ that if a belief fails to cohere with a background system of beliefs, then the belief is not justifiable. We might put this by saying that, according to the positivity of a coherence theory, coherence has the power to produce justification, while according to its being adhered by negativity, the coherence theory has only the power to nullify justification.
Least of mention, a strong coherence theory of justification is a formidable combination by which a positive and a negative theory tell ‘us’ that a belief is justifiable if and only if it coheres with a background system of inter-connectivity of beliefs. Coherence theories of justification and knowledge have most often been rejected for being unable to deal with an accountable justification toward the perceptivity upon the projection of knowledge (Audi, 1988, and Pollock, 1986), and, therefore, considering a perceptual example that will serve as a kind of crucial test will be most appropriate. Suppose that a person, call her Julie, and works with a scientific instrumentation that has a gauging measure upon temperatures of liquids in a container. The gauge is marked in degrees, she looks at the gauge and sees that the reading is 105 degrees. What is she justifiably to believe, and why? Is she, for example, justified in believing that the liquid in the container is 105 degrees? Clearly, that depends on her background beliefs. A weak coherence theorist might argue that, though her belief that she sees the shape 105 is immediately justified as direct sensory evidence without appeal to a background system, the belief that the location in the container is 105 degrees results from coherence with a background system of latent beliefs that affirm to the shaping perceptivity that its 105 as visually read to be 105 degrees on the gauge that measures the temperature of the liquid in the container. This, nonetheless, of a weak coherence view that combines coherence with direct perceptivity as its evidence, in that the foundation of justification, is to account for the justification of our beliefs.
A strong coherence theory would go beyond the claim of the weak coherence theory to affirm that the justification of all beliefs, including the belief that one sees the shaping to sensory data that holds accountably of a measure of 100, or even the more cautious belief that one sees a shape, resulting from the perceptivals of coherence theory, in that it coheres with a background system. One may argue for this strong coherence theory in a number of different ways. One line or medium through which to appeal to the coherence theory of contentual representations. If the content of the perceptual belief results from the relations of the belief to other beliefs in a network system of beliefs, then one may notably argue that the justification of perceptivity, that the belief is a resultant from which its relation of the belief to other beliefs, in the network system of beliefs is in argument for the strong coherence theory is that without any assumptive reason that the coherence theory of contentual beliefs, in as much as the supposed causes that only produce the consequences we expect. Consider the very cautious belief that I see a shape. How may the justifications for that perceptual belief are an existent result that is characterized of its material coherence with a background system of beliefs? What might the background system tell ‘us’ that would justify that belief? Our background system contains a simple and primal theory about our relationship to the world and surrounding surfaces that we perceive as it is or should be believed. To come to the specific point at issue, we believe that we can tell a shape when we see one, completely differentiated its form as perceived to sensory data, that we are to trust of ourselves about such simple matters as whether we see a shape before ‘us’ or not, as in the acceptance of opening to nature the inter-connectivity between belief and the progression through which is acquired from past experiential conditions of application, and not beyond deception. Moreover, when Julie sees the believing desire to act upon what either coheres with a weak or strong coherence of theory, she shows that its belief, as a measurable quality or entity of 100, has the essence in as much as there is much more of a structured distinction of circumstance, which is not of those that are deceptive about whether she sees that shape or sincerely does not see of its shaping distinction, however. Visible light is good, and the numeral shapes are large, readily discernible and so forth. These are beliefs that Trust has single handedly authenticated reasons for justification. Her successive malignance to sensory access to data involved is justifiably a subsequent belief, in that with those beliefs, and so she is justified and creditable.
The philosophical; problems include discovering whether belief differs from other varieties of assent, such as ‘acceptance’ discovering to what extent degrees of belief is possible, understanding the ways in which belief is controlled by rational and irrational factors, and discovering its links with other properties, such as the possession of conceptual or linguistic skills. This last set of problems includes the question of whether prelinguistic infants or animals are properly said to have beliefs.
Thus, we might think of coherence as inference to the best explanation based on a background system of beliefs, since we are not aware of such inferences for the most part, the inferences must be interpreted as unconscious inferences, as information processing, based on or finding the background system that proves most convincing of acquiring its act and used from the motivational force that its underlying and hidden desire are to do so. One might object to such an account on the grounds that not all justifiable inferences are self-explanatory, and more generally, the account of coherence may, at best, is ably successful to competitions that are based on background systems (BonJour, 1985, and Lehrer, 1990). The belief that one sees a shape competes with the claim that one does not, with the claim that one is deceived, and other sceptical objections. The background system of beliefs informs one that one is acceptingly trustworthy and enables one to meet the objections. A belief coheres with a background system just in case it enables one to meet the sceptical objections and in the way justifies one in the belief. This is a standard strong coherence theory of justification (Lehrer, 1990).
Illustrating the relationship between positive and negative coherence theories in terms of the standard coherence theory is easy. If some objection to a belief cannot be met in terms of the background system of beliefs of a person, then the person is not justified in that belief. So, to return to Julie, suppose that she has been told that a warning light has been installed on her gauge to tell her when it is not functioning properly and that when the red light is on, the gauge is malfunctioning. Suppose that when she sees the reading of 105, she also sees that the red light is on. Imagine, finally, that this is the first time the red light has been on, and, after years of working with the gauge, Julie, who has always placed her trust in the gauge, believes what the gauge tells her, that the liquid in the container is at 105 degrees. Though she believes what she reads is at 105 degrees is not a justified belief because it fails to cohere with her background belief that the gauge is malfunctioning. Thus, the negative coherence theory tells ‘us’ that she is not justified in her belief about the temperature of the contents in the container. By contrast, when the red light is not illuminated and the background system of trust tells her that under such conditions that gauge is a trustworthy indicator of the temperature of the liquid in the container, then she is justified. The positive coherence theory tells ‘us’ that she is justified in her belief because her belief coheres with her background system of trust tells she that under such conditions that gauge is a trustworthy indicator of the temperature of the liquid in the container, then she is justified. The positive coherence theory tells ‘us’ that she is justified in her belief because her belief coheres with her background system continues as a trustworthy system.
The foregoing sketch and illustration of coherence theories of justification have a common feature, namely, that they are what is called internalistic theories of justification what makes of such a view are the absence of any requirement that the person for whom the belief is justified have any cognitive access to the relation of reliability in question. Lacking such access, such a person will usually, have no reason for thinking the belief is true or likely to be true, but will, on such an account, are none the lesser to appear epistemologically justified in accepting it. Thus, such a view arguably marks a major break from the modern epistemological traditions, which identifies epistemic justification with having a reason, perhaps even a conclusive reason, for thinking that the belief is true. An epistemologist working within this tradition is likely to feel that the externalist, than offering a competing account of the same concept of epistemic justification with which the traditional epistemologist is concerned, has simply changed the subject.
They are theories affirming that coherence is a matter of internal relations between beliefs and that justification is a matter of coherence. If, then, justification is solely a matter of internal relations between beliefs, we are left with the possibility that the internal relations might fail to correspond with any external reality. How, one might object, can be to assume the including of interiority. A subjective notion of justification bridge the gap between mere true belief, which might be no more than a lucky guess, and knowledge, which must be grounded in some connection between internal subjective conditions and external objective realities?
The answer is that it cannot and that something more than justified true belief is required for knowledge. This result has, however, been established quite apart from consideration of coherence theories of justification. What are required maybes put by saying that the justification that one must be undefeated by errors in the background system of beliefs? Justification is undefeated by errors just in case any correction of such errors in the background system of belief would sustain the justification of the belief on the basis of the corrected system. So knowledge, on this sort of positivity is acclaimed by the coherence theory, which is the true belief that coheres with the background belief system and corrected versions of that system. In short, knowledge is true belief plus justification resulting from coherence and undefeated by error (Lehrer, 1990). The connection between internal subjective conditions of belief and external objectivity are from which reality’s result from the required correctness of our beliefs about the relations between those conditions and realities. In the example of Julie, she believes that her internal subjectivity to conditions of sensory data in which the experience and perceptual beliefs are connected with the external objectivity in which reality is the temperature of the liquid in the container in a trustworthy manner. This background belief is essential to the justification of her belief that the temperature of the liquid in the container is 105 degrees, and the correctness of that background belief is essential to the justification remaining undefeated. So our background system of beliefs contains a simple theory about our relation to the external world that justifies certain of our beliefs that cohere with that system. For instance, such justification to convert to knowledge, that theory must be sufficiently free from error so that the coherence is sustained in corrected versions of our background system of beliefs. The correctness of the simple background theory provides the connection between the internal condition and external reality.
The coherence theory of truth arises naturally out of a problem raised by the coherence theory of justification. The problem is that anyone seeking to determine whether she has knowledge is confined to the search for coherence among her beliefs. The sensory experiences she has been deaf-mute until they are represented in the form of some perceptual belief. Beliefs are the engines that pull the train of justification. Nevertheless, what assurance do we have that our justification is based on true beliefs? What justification do we have that any of our justifications are undefeated? The fear that we might have none, that our beliefs might be the artifacts of some deceptive demon or scientist, leads to the quest to reduce truth to some form, perhaps an idealized form, of justification (Rescher, 1973, and Rosenberg, 1980). That would close the threatening sceptical gap between justification and truth. Suppose that a belief is true if and only if it is justifiable of some person. For such a person there would be no gap between justification and truth or between justification and undefeated justification. Truth would be coherence with some ideal background system of beliefs, perhaps one expressing a consensus among systems or some consensus among belief systems or some convergence toward a consensus. Such a view is theoretically attractive for the reduction it promises, but it appears open to profound objectification. One is that there is a consensus that we can all be wrong about at least some matters, for example, about the origins of the universe. If there is a consensus that we can all be wrong about something, then the consensual belief system rejects the equation of truth with the consensus. Consequently, the equation of truth with coherence with a consensual belief system is itself incoherent.
Coherence theories of the content of our beliefs and the justification of our beliefs themselves cohere with our background systems but coherence theories of truth do not. A defender of Coherentism must accept the logical gap between justified belief and truth, but may believe that our capacities suffice to close the gap to yield knowledge. That view is, at any rate, a coherent one.
What makes a belief justified and what makes a true belief knowledge? Thinking that whether a belief deserves one of these appraisals is natural depends on what causal subject to have the belief. In recent decades a number of epistemologists have pursed this plausible idea with a variety of specific proposals. Some causal theories of knowledge have it that a true belief that ‘p’ is knowledge just in case it has the right causal connection to the fact that ‘p’. Such a criterion can be applied only to cases where the fact that ‘p’ is a sort that can enter causal relations, this seems to exclude mathematically and other necessary facts and perhaps any fact expressed by a universal generalization, and proponents of this sort of criterion have usually of this sort of criterion have usually supposed that it is limited to perceptual knowledge of particular facts about the subject’s environment.
For example, Armstrong (1973, ch 12) proposed that a belief of the form ‘This (perceived) object is F’ is (non-inferential) knowledge if and only if the belief is a completely reliable sign that the perceived object is ‘F’, that is, the fact that the object is ‘F’ contributed to causing the belief and its doing so depended on properties of the believer such that the laws of nature dictated that, for any subject ‘χ is to occur, and so thus a perceived object of ‘y’, if χ’ undergoing those properties are for ‘us’ to believe that ‘y’ is ‘F’, then ‘y’ is ‘F’. (Dretske (1981) offers a similar account, in terms of the belief’s being caused by a signal received by the perceiver that carries the information that the object is ‘F’.
This sort of condition fails, however, to be sufficient for non-inferential perceptual knowledge because it is compatible with the belief’s being unjustified, and an unjustifiable belief cannot be knowledge. For example, suppose that your mechanisms for colour perception are working well, but you have been given good reason to think otherwise, to think, say, that the substantive primary colours that are perceivable, that things look chartreuse to you and chartreuse things look magenta. If you fail to heed these reasons you have for thinking that your colour perception or sensory data is a way. Believing in a ‘thing’, which looks to blooms of vividness that you are to believe of its chartreuse, your belief will fail to be justified and will therefore fail to be knowledge, even though it is caused by the thing’s being magenta in such a way as to be a completely reliable sign, or to carry the information, in that the thing is magenta.
One could fend off this sort of counterexample by simply adding to the causal condition the requirement that the belief be justified, buy this enriched condition would still be insufficient. Suppose, for example, that in nearly all people, but not in you, as it happens, causes the aforementioned aberration in colour perceptions. The experimenter tells you that you have taken such a drug but then says, ‘no, hold off a minute, the pill you took was just a placebo’, suppose further, that this last thing the experimenter tells you is false. Her telling you that it was a false statement, and, again, telling you this gives you justification for believing of a thing that looks a subtractive primary colour to you that it is a sensorial primary colour, in that the fact you were to expect that the experimenters last statements were false, making it the case that your true belief is not knowledgeably correct, thought as though to satisfy its causal condition.
Goldman (1986) has proposed an importantly different causal criterion namely, that a true belief is knowledge, if it is produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ and ‘locally’ reliable. Causing true beliefs is sufficiently high is globally reliable if its propensity. Local reliability has to do with whether the process would have produced a similar but false belief in certain counterfactual situations alternative to the actual situation. This way of marking off true beliefs that are knowledge does not require the fact believed to be casually related to the belief, and so it could in principle apply to knowledge of any kind of truth.
Goldman requires that global reliability of the belief-producing process for the justification of a belief, he requires it also for knowledge because justification is required for knowledge, in what requires for knowledge but does not require for justification, which is locally reliable. His idea is that a justified true belief is knowledge if the type of process that produced it would not have produced it in any relevant counterfactual situation in which it is false. The relevant alternative account of knowledge can be motivated by noting that other concepts exhibit the same logical structure. Two examples of this are the concept ‘flat’ and the concept ‘empty’ (Dretske, 1981). Both appear to be absolute concepts-A space is empty only if it does not contain anything and a surface is flat only if it does not have any bumps. However, the absolute character of these concepts is relative to a standard. In the case of ‘flat’, there is a standard for what counts as a bump and in the case of ‘empty’, there is a standard for what counts as a thing. To be flat is to be free of any relevant bumps and to be empty is to be devoid of all relevant things.
Nevertheless, the human mind abhors a vacuum. When an explicit, coherent world-view is absent, it functions on the basis of a tactic one. A tactic world-view is not subject to a critical evaluation, and it can easily harbour inconsistencies. Indeed, our tactic set of beliefs about the nature of reality is made of contradictory bits and pieces. The dominant component is a leftover from another period, the Newtonian ‘clock universe’ still lingers as we cling to this old and tired model because we know of nothing else that can take its place. Our condition is the condition of a culture that is in the throes of a paradigm shift. A major paradigm shift is complex and difficult because a paradigm holds ‘us captive: We see reality through it, as through coloured glasses, but we do not know that, we are convinced that we see reality as it is. Hence the appearance of a new and different paradigm is often incomprehensible. To someone raised believing that the Earth is flat, the suggestion that the Earth is spherical would seem preposterous: If the Earth were spherical, would not the poor antipodes fall ‘down’ into the sky?
Yet, as we face a new millennium, we are forced to face this challenge. The fate of the planet is in question, and it was brought to its present precarious condition largely because of our trust in the Newtonian paradigm. As Newtonian world-view has to go, and, if one looks carefully, the main feature of the new, emergent paradigm can be discerned. The search for these features is what was the influence of a fading paradigm. All paradigms include subterranean realms of tactic assumptions, the influence of which outlasts the adherence to the paradigm itself.
The first line of exploration suggests the ‘weird’ aspects of the quantum theory, with fertile grounds for our feeling of which should disappear in inconsistencies with the prevailing world-view. This feeling is in replacing by the new one, i.e., if one believes that the Earth is flat, the story of Magellan’s travels is quite puzzling: How travelling due west is possible for a ship and, without changing direct. Arrive at its place of departure? Obviously, when the flat-Earth paradigm is replaced by the belief that Earth is spherical, the puzzle is instantly resolved.
The founders of Relativity and quantum mechanics were deeply engaging but incomplete, in that none of them attempted to construct a philosophical system, however, that the mystery at the heart of the quantum theory called for a revolution in philosophical outlooks. During which time, the 1920's, when quantum mechanics reached maturity, began the construction of a full-blooded philosophical system that was based not only on science but on nonscientific modes of knowledge as well. As, the fading influence drawn upon the paradigm goes well beyond its explicit claim. We believe, as the scenists and philosophers did, that when we wish to find out the truth about the universe, nonscientific nodes of processing human experiences can be ignored, poetry, literature, art, music are all wonderful, but, in relation to the quest for knowledge of the universe, they are irrelevant. Yet, it was Alfred North Whitehead who pointed out the fallacy of this speculative assumption. In this, as well as in other aspects of thinking of some reality in which are the building blocks of reality are not material atoms but ‘throbs of experience’. Whitehead formulated his system in the late 1920s, and yet, as far as I know, the founders of quantum mechanics were unaware of it. It was not until 1963 that J. M. Burgers pointed out that its philosophy accounts very well for the main features of the quanta, especially the ‘weird ones’, enabling as in some aspects of reality is ‘higher’ or ’deeper’ than others, and if so, what is the structure of such hierarchical divisions? What of our place in the universe? Finally, what is the relationship between the great aspiration within the lost realms of nature? An attempt to endow ‘us’ with a cosmological meaning in such a universe seems totally absurd, and, yet, this very universe is just a paradigm, not the truth. When you reach its end, you may be willing to join the alternate view as accorded to which, surprisingly bestow ‘us’ with what is restored, although in a post-postmodern context.
The philosophical implications of quantum mechanics have been regulated by subjective matter’s, as to emphasis the connections between what I believe, in that investigations of such interconnectivity are anticipatorially the hesitations that are an exclusion held within the western traditions, however, the philosophical thinking, from Plato to Platinous had in some aspects of interpretational presentation of her expression of a consensus of the physical community. Other aspects are shared by some and objected to (sometimes vehemently) by others. Still other aspects express my own views and convictions, as turning about to be more difficult that anticipated, discovering that a conversational mode would be helpful, but, their conversations with each other and with me in hoping that all will be not only illuminating but finding to its read may approve in them, whose dreams are dreams among others than themselves.
These examples make it seem likely that, if there is a criterion for what makes an alternative situation relevant that will save Goldman’s claim about reliability and the acceptance of knowledge, it will not be simple.
The interesting thesis that counts as a causal theory of justification, in the meaning of ‘causal theory’ intend of the belief that is justified just in case it was produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ reliable, that is, its propensity to produce true beliefs-that can be defined to a favourably bringing close together the proportion of the belief and to what it produces, or would produce where it used as much as opportunity allows, that is true-is sufficiently that a belief acquires favourable epistemic status by having some kind of reliable linkage to the truth. Variations of this view have been advanced for both knowledge and justified belief. The first formulations of are reliably in its account of knowing appeared in if not by F.P. Ramsey (1903-30) who made important contributions to mathematical logic, probability theory, the philosophy of science and economics. Instead of saying that quarks have such-and-such properties, the Ramsey sentence says that it is moderately something that has those properties. If the process is repeated for all of the theoretical terms, the sentence gives the ‘topic-neutral’ structure of the theory, but removes any implication that we know what the term so covered have as a meaning. It leaves open the possibility of identifying the theoretical item with whatever, but it is that best fits the description provided, thus, substituting the term by a variable, and existentially qualifying into the result. Ramsey was one of the first thinkers to accept a ‘redundancy theory of truth’, which he combined its radical views of the function of many kinds of the proposition. Neither generalizations, nor causal propositions, not those treating probabilities or ethics, described facts, but each has a different specific function in our intellectual commentators on the early works of Wittgenstein, and his continuing friendship with the latter liked to Wittgenstein’s return to Cambridge and to philosophy in 1929.
The most sustained and influential application of these ideas were in the philosophy of mind, or brain, as Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) whom Ramsey persuaded that remained work for him to do, the way that is most undoubtedly was of an appealingly charismatic figure in a 20th-century philosophy, living and writing with a power and intensity that frequently overwhelmed his contemporaries and readers, the early period is centred on the ‘picture theory of meaning’ according to which sentence represents a state of affairs by being a kind of picture or model of it. Containing the elements that were in corresponding to those of the state of affairs and structure or form that mirrors that a structure of the state of affairs that it represents. All logic complexity is reduced to that of the ‘propositional calculus, and all propositions are ‘truth-function’ of atomic or basic propositions.
In the layer period the emphasis shifts dramatically to the actions of people and the role linguistic activities play in their lives. Thus, whereas in the “Tractatus” language is placed in a static, formal relationship with the world, in the later work Wittgenstein emphasis its use in the context of standardized social activities of ordering, advising, requesting, measuring, counting, excising concerns for each other, and so on. These different activities are thought of as so many ‘language games’ that together make or a form of life. Philosophy typically ignores this diversity, and in generalizing and abstracting distorts the real nature of its subject-matter. In addition to the “Tractatus”and the”investigations” collections of Wittgenstein’s work published posthumously include “Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics” (1956), “Notebooks” (1914-1916) (1961), “Pholosophische Bemerkungen” (1964), “Zettel” (1967, and “On Certainty” (1969).
Clearly, there are many forms of reliabilism. Just as there are many forms of ‘Foundationalism’ and ‘coherence’. How is reliabilism related to these other two theories of justification? It is usually regarded as a rival. This is aptly so, in as far as Foundationalism and Coherentism traditionally focussed on purely evidential relations than psychological processes, but reliabilism might also be offered as a deeper-level theory, subsuming some of the precepts of either Foundationalism or Coherentism. Foundationalism says that there are ‘basic’ beliefs, which acquire justification without dependence on inference, reliabilism might rationalize this indicating that the basic beliefs are formed by reliable non-inferential processes. Coherence stresses the primary of systematicity in all doxastic decision-making. Reliabilism might rationalize this by pointing to increases in reliability that accrue from systematicity consequently, reliabilism could complement Foundationalism and coherence than completed with them.
These examples make it seem likely that, if there is a criterion for what makes an alternate situation relevant that will save Goldman’s claim about local reliability and knowledge. Will did not be simple. The interesting thesis that counts as a causal theory of justification, in the making of ‘causal theory’ intended for the belief as it is justified in case it was produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ reliable, that is, its propensity to produce true beliefs that can be defined, to a well-thought-of approximation, as the proportion of the beliefs it produces, or would produce where it used as much as opportunity allows, that is true is sufficiently relializable. Variations of this view have been advanced for both knowledge and justified belief, its first formulation of a reliability account of knowing appeared in the notation from F.P.Ramsey (1903-30). The theory of probability, he was the first to show how a ‘personalists theory’ could be developed, based on a precise behavioural notion of preference and expectation. In the philosophy of language. Much of Ramsey’s work was directed at saving classical mathematics from ‘intuitionism’, or what he called the ‘Bolshevik menace of Brouwer and Weyl. In the theory of probability he was the first to show how a personalists theory could be developed, based on precise behavioural notation of preference and expectation. In the philosophy of language, Ramsey was one of the first thankers, which he combined with radical views of the function of many kinds of a proposition. Neither generalizations, nor causal propositions, nor those treating probability or ethics, describe facts, but each has a different specific function in our intellectual economy. Ramsey was one of the earliest commentators on the early work of Wittgenstein, and his continuing friendship with Wittgenstein.
Ramsey’s sentence theory is the sentence generated by taking all the sentences affirmed in a scientific theory that use some term, e.g., ‘quark’. Replacing the term by a variable, and existentially quantifying into the result. Instead of saying that quarks have such-and-such properties, the Ramsey sentence says that there is something that has those properties. If the process is repeated for all of a group of the theoretical terms, the sentence gives the ‘topic-neutral’ structure of the theory, but removes any implication that we know what the term so treated characterized. It leaves open the possibility of identifying the theoretical item with whatever, and it is that best fits the description provided. Virtually, all theories of knowledge. Of course, share an externalist component in requiring truth as a condition for known in. Reliabilism goes further, however, in trying to capture additional conditions for knowledge by ways of a nomic, counterfactual or other such ‘external’ relations between belief and truth. Closely allied to the nomic sufficiency account of knowledge, primarily due to Dretshe (1971, 1981), A. I. Goldman (1976, 1986) and R. Nozick (1981). The core of this approach is that X’s belief that ‘p’ qualifies as knowledge just in case ‘X’ believes ‘p’, because of reasons that would not obtain unless ‘p’s’ being true, or because of a process or method that would not yield belief in ‘p’ if ‘p’ were not true. For example, ‘X’ would not have its current reasons for believing there is a telephone before it. Perhaps, would it not come to believe that this in the way it suits the purpose, thus, there is a differentiable fact of a reliable guarantor that the belief’s bing true. A stouthearted and valiant counterfactual approach says that ‘X’ knows that ‘p’ only if there is no ‘relevant alternative’ situation in which ‘p’ is false but ‘X’ would still believe that a proposition ‘p’; must be sufficient to eliminate all the alternatives to ‘p’ where an alternative to a proposition ‘p’ is a proposition incompatible with ‘p’? . That in, one’s justification or evidence for ‘p’ must be sufficient for one to know that every alternative to ‘p’ is false. This element of our evolving thinking, about which knowledge is exploited by sceptical arguments. These arguments call our attentions to alternatives that our evidence sustains itself with no elimination. The sceptic inquires to how we know that we are not seeing a cleverly disguised mule. While we do have some evidence against the likelihood of such as deception, intuitively knowing that we are not so deceived is not strong enough for ‘us’. By pointing out alternate but hidden points of nature, in that we cannot eliminate, as well as others with more general application, as dreams, hallucinations, etc., the sceptic appears to show that every alternative is seldom. If ever, satisfied.
This conclusion conflicts with another strand in our thinking about knowledge, in that we know many things. Thus, there is a tension in our ordinary thinking about knowledge ~. We believe that knowledge is, in the sense indicated, an absolute concept and yet, we also believe that there are many instances of that concept.
If one finds absoluteness to be too central a component of our concept of knowledge to be relinquished, one could argue from the absolute character of knowledge to a sceptical conclusion (Unger, 1975). Most philosophers, however, have taken the other course, choosing to respond to the conflict by giving up, perhaps reluctantly, the absolute criterion. This latter response holds as sacrosanct our commonsense belief that we know many things (Pollock, 1979 and Chisholm, 1977). Each approach is subject to the criticism that it preserves one aspect of our ordinary thinking about knowledge at the expense of denying another. The theory of relevant alternatives can be viewed as an attempt to provide a more satisfactory response to this tension in our thinking about knowledge. It attempts to characterize knowledge in a way that preserves both our belief that knowledge is an absolute concept and our belief that we have knowledge.
Just as space, the classical questions include: Is space real? Is it some kind of mental construct or artefact of our ways of perceiving and thinking? Is it ‘substantival’ or purely? relational’? According to Substantivalism, space is an objective thing consisting of points or regions at which, or in which, things are located. Opposed to this is relationalism, according to which the only thing that is real about space are the spatial (and temporal) relations between physical objects. Substantivalism was advocated by Clarke speaking for Newton, and relationalism by Leibniz, in their famous correspondence, and the debate continues today. There is also an issue whether the measure of space and time are objective e, or whether an element of convention enters them. Whereby, the influential analysis of David Lewis suggests that a regularity hold as a matter of convention when it solves a problem of co-ordination in a group. This means that it is to the benefit of each member to conform to the regularity, providing the other do so. Any number of solutions to such a problem may exist, for example, it is to the advantages of each of us to drive on the same side of the road as others, but indifferent whether we all drive o the right or the left. One solution or another may emerge for a variety of reasons. It is notable that on this account convections may arise naturally; they do not have to be the result of specific agreement. This frees the notion for use in thinking about such things as the origin of language or of political society.
Finding to a theory that magnifies the role of decisions, or free selection from among equally possible alternatives, in order to show that what appears to be objective or fixed by nature is in fact an artefact of human convention, similar to conventions of etiquette, or grammar, or law. Thus one might suppose that moral rules owe more to social convention than to anything imposed from outside, or hat supposedly inexorable necessities are in fact the shadow of our linguistic conventions. The disadvantage of conventionalism is that it must show that alternative, equally workable e conventions could have been adopted, and it is often easy to believe that, for example, if we hold that some ethical norm such as respect for promises or property is conventional, we ought to be able to show that human needs would have been equally well satisfied by a system involving a different norm, and this may be hard to establish.
A convention also suggested by Paul Grice (1913-88) directing participants in conversation to pay heed to an accepted purpose or direction of the exchange. Contributions made without paying this attention are liable to be rejected for other reasons than straightforward falsity: Something rue but unhelpful or inappropriate may meet with puzzlement or rejection. We can thus never infer fro the fact that it would be inappropriate to say something in some circumstance that what would be aid, were we to say it, would be false. This inference was frequently and in ordinary language philosophy, it being argued, for example, that since we do not normally say ‘there sees to be a barn there’ when there is unmistakably a barn there, it is false that on such occasions there seems to be a barn there.
There are two main views on the nature of theories. According to the ‘received view’ theories are partially interpreted axiomatic systems, according to the semantic view, a theory is a collection of models (Suppe, 1974). However, a natural language comes ready interpreted, and the semantic problem is no that of the specification but of understanding the relationship between terms of various categories (names, descriptions, predicates, adverbs . . .) and their meanings. An influential proposal is that this relationship is best understood by attempting to provide a ‘truth definition’ for the language, which will involve giving terms and structure of different kinds have on the truth-condition of sentences containing them.
The axiomatic method . . . as, . . . a proposition lid down as one from which we may begin, an assertion that we have taken as fundamental, at least for the branch of enquiry in hand. The axiomatic method is that of defining as a set of such propositions, and the ‘proof procedures’ or finding of how a proof ever gets started. Suppose I have as premises (1) p and (2) p ➞ q. Can I infer q? Only, it seems, if I am sure of, (3) (p & p ➞q) ➞q. Can I then infer q? Only, it seems, if I am sure that (4) (p & p ➞ q) ➞ q) ➞ q. For each new axiom (N) I need a further axiom (N + 1) telling me that the set so far implies q, and the regress never stops. The usual solution is to treat a system as containing not only axioms, but also rules of reference, allowing movement fro the axiom. The rule ‘modus ponens’ allows us to pass from the first two premises to q. Charles Dodgson Lutwidge (1832-98) better known as Lewis Carroll’s puzzle shows that it is essential to distinguish two theoretical categories, although there may be choice about which to put in which category.
This type of theory (axiomatic) usually emerges as a body of (supposes) truths that are not nearly organized, making the theory difficult to survey or study a whole. The axiomatic method is an idea for organizing a theory (Hilbert 1970): one tries to select from among the supposed truths a small number from which all others can be seen to be deductively inferable. This makes the theory rather more tractable since, in a sense, all the truths are contained in those few. In a theory so organized, the few truths from which all others are deductively inferred are called axioms. In that, jus t as algebraic and differential equations, which were used to study mathematical and physical processes, could themselves be made mathematical objects, so axiomatic theories, like algebraic and differential equations, which are means of representing physical processes and mathematical structures, could be made objects of mathematical investigation.
In the traditional (as in Leibniz, 1704), many philosophers had the conviction that all truths, or all truths about a particular domain, followed from a few principles. These principles were taken to be either metaphysically prior or epistemologically prior or in the fist sense, they were taken to be entities of such a nature that what exists is ‘caused’ by them. When the principles were taken as epistemologically prior, that is, as axioms, either they were taken to be epistemologically privileged, e.g., self-evident, not needing to be demonstrated or (again, inclusive ‘or’) to be such that all truths do follow from them (by deductive inferences). Gödel (1984) showed that treating axiomatic theories as themselves mathematical objects, that mathematics, and even a small part of mathematics, elementary number theory, could not be axiomatized, that, more precisely, any class of axioms that in such that we could effectively decide, of any proposition, whether or not it was in the class, would be too small to capture all of the truths.
The use of a model to test for the consistency of an axiomatized system is older than modern logic. Descartes’s algebraic interpretation of Euclidean geometry provides a way of showing that if the theory of real numbers is consistent, so is the geometry. Similar mapping had been used by mathematicians in the 19th century for example to show that if Euclidean geometry is consistent, so are various non-Euclidean geometries. Model theory is the general study of this kind of procedure: The study of interpretations of formal system. Proof theory studies relations of deducibility as defined purely syntactically, that is, without reference to the intended interpretation of the calculus. More formally, a deductively valid argument starting from true premises, that yields the conclusion between formulae of a system. But once the notion of an interpretation is in place we can ask whether a formal system meets certain conditions. In particular, can it lead us from sentences that are true under some interpretation to ones that are false under the same interpretation? And if a sentence is true under all interpretations, is it also a theorem of the system? We can define a notion of validity (a formula is valid if it is true in all interpretations) and semantic consequence (a formulae, written
{A1 . . . An} ⊨ B, if it is true in all interpretations in which they are true) The central questions for a calculus will be whether all and only its theorems are valid, and whether {A1 . . . An} ⊨ B, if and only if {A1. . . . An} ⊢ B. These are the questions of the soundness and completeness of a formal system. For the propositional calculus this turns into the question of whether the proof theory delivers as theorems all and only tautologies. There are many axiomatizations of the propositional calculus that are consistent an complete. Gödel proved in 1929 that first-order predicate calculus is complete: any formula that is true under every interpretation is a theorem of the calculus.
The propositional calculus or logical calculus whose expressions are letter present sentences or propositions, and constants representing operations on those propositions to produce others of higher complexity. The operations include conjunction, disjunction, material implication and negation (although these need not be primitive). Propositional logic was partially anticipated by the Stoics but researched maturity only with the work of Frége, Russell, and Wittgenstein.
The concept introduced by Frége of a function taking a number of names as arguments, and delivering one proposition as the value. The idea is that ‘χ love’s y’ is a propositional function, which yields the proposition ‘John loves Mary’ from those two arguments (in that order). A propositional function is therefore roughly equivalent to a property or relation. In Principia Mathematica, Russell and Whitehead take propositional functions to be the fundamental function, since the theory of descriptions could be taken as showing that other expressions denoting functions are incomplete symbols.
Keeping in mind, the two classical truth-values that a statement, proposition, or sentence can take. It is supposed in classical (two-valued) logic, that each statement has one of these values, and none has both. A statement is then false if and only if it is not true. The basis of this scheme is that to each statement there corresponds a determinate truth condition, or way the world must be for it to be true, and otherwise false. Statements may be felicitous or infelicitous in other dimensions (polite, misleading, apposite, witty, etc.) but truth is the central normative governing assertion. Considerations of vagueness may introduce greys into black-and-white scheme. For the issue of whether falsity is the only way of failing to be true.
Formally, it is nonetheless, that any suppressed premise or background framework of thought necessary to make an argument valid, or a position tenable. More formally, a presupposition has been defined as a proposition whose truth is necessary for either the truth or the falsity of another statement. Thus, if ‘p’ presupposes ‘q’, ‘q’ must be true for p to be either true or false. In the theory of knowledge of Robin George Collingwood (1889-1943), any propositions capable of truth or falsity stand on a bed of ‘absolute presuppositions’ which are not properly capable of truth or falsity, since a system of thought will contain no way of approaching such a question. It was suggested by Peter Strawson (1919-), in opposition to Russell’s theory of ‘definite’ descriptions, that ‘there exists a King of France’ is a presupposition of ‘the King of France is bald’, the latter being neither true, nor false, if there is no King of France. It is, however, a little unclear whether the idea is that no statement at all is made in such a case, or whether a statement is made, but fails of being either true or false. The former option preserves classical logic, since we can still say that every statement is either true or false, but the latter does not, since in classical logic the law of ‘bivalence’ holds, and ensures that nothing at all is presupposed for any proposition to be true or false. The introduction of presupposition therefore means that either a third truth-value is found, ‘intermediate’ between truth and falsity, or that classical logic is preserved, but it is impossible to tell whether a particular sentence expresses a proposition that is a candidate for truth ad falsity, without knowing more than the formation rules of the language. Each suggestion carries costs, and there is some consensus that at least where definite descriptions are involved, examples like the one given are equally well handed by regarding the overall sentence false when the existence claim fails.
A proposition may be true or false it be said to take the truth-value true, and if the latter the truth-value false. The idea behind the term is the analogy between assigning a propositional variable one or other of these values, as a formula of the propositional calculus, and assigning an object as the value of many other variable. Logics with intermediate values are called many-valued logics. Then, a truth-function of a number of propositions or sentences is a function of them that has a definite truth-value, depend only on the truth-values of the constituents. Thus (p & q) is a combination whose truth-value is true when ‘p’ is true and ‘q’ is true, and false otherwise, ¬ p is a truth-function of ‘p’, false when ‘p’ is true and true when ‘p’ is false. The way in which the value of the whole is determined by the combinations of values of constituents is presented in a truth table.
In whatever manner, truths of fact cannot be reduced to any identity and our only way of knowing them is empirically, by reference to the facts of the empirical world.
A proposition is knowable deductively if it can be known without experience of the specific course of events in the actual world. It may, however, be allowed that some experience is required to acquire the concepts involved in an deductive proposition. Some thing is knowable only empirical if it can be known deductively. The distinction given one of the fundamental problem areas of epistemology. The category of deductive propositions is highly controversial, since it is not clear how pure thought, unaided by experience, can give rise to any knowledge at all, and it has always been a concern of empiricism to deny that it can. The two great areas in which it seems to be so are logic and mathematics, so empiricists have commonly tried to show either that these are not areas of real, substantive knowledge, or that in spite of appearances their knowledge that we have in these areas is actually dependent on experience. The former line tries to show sense trivial or analytic, or matters of notation conventions of language. The latter approach is particularly y associated with Quine, who denies any significant slit between propositions traditionally thought of as speculatively, and other deeply entrenched beliefs that occur in our overall view of the world.
Another contested category is that of speculative concepts, supposed to be concepts that cannot be ‘derived’ from experience, bu t which are presupposed in any mode of thought about the world, time, substance, causation, number, and self are candidates. The need for such concept s, and the nature of the substantive a prior I knowledge to which they give rise, is the central concern of Kant ‘s Critique of Pure Reason.
Likewise, since their denial does not involve a contradiction, there is merely contingent: Their could have been in other ways a hold of the actual world, but not every possible one. Some examples are ‘Caesar crossed the Rubicon’ and ‘Leibniz was born in Leipzig’, as well as propositions expressing correct scientific generalizations. In Leibniz’s view truths of fact rest on the principle of sufficient reason, which is a reason why it is so. This reason is that the actual world (by which he means the total collection of things past, present and future) is better than any other possible world and therefore created by God. The foundation of his thought is the conviction that to each individual there corresponds a complete notion, knowable only to God, from which is deducible all the properties possessed by the individual at each moment in its history. It is contingent that God actualizes te individual that meets such a concept, but his doing so is explicable by the principle of ‘sufficient reason’, whereby God had to actualize just that possibility in order for this to be the best of all possible worlds. This thesis is subsequently lampooned by Voltaire (1694-1778), in whom of which was prepared to take refuge in ignorance, as the nature of the soul, or the way to reconcile evil with divine providence.
In defending the principle of sufficient reason sometimes described as the principle that nothing can be so without there being a reason why it is so. But the reason has to be of a particularly potent kind: eventually it has to ground contingent facts in necessities, and in particular in the reason an omnipotent and perfect being would have for actualizing one possibility than another. Among the consequences of the principle is Leibniz’s relational doctrine of space, since if space were an infinite box there could be no reason for the world to be at one point in rather than another, and God placing it at any point violate the principle. In Abelard’s (1079-1142), as in Leibniz, the principle eventually forces te recognition that the actual world is the best of all possibilities, since anything else would be inconsistent with the creative power that actualizes possibilities.
If truth consists in concept containment, then it seems that all truths are analytic and hence necessary. If they are all necessary, surely they are all truths of reason. In that not every truth can be reduced to an identity in a finite number of steps; in some instances revealing the connection between subject and predicate concepts would require an infinite analysis, while this may entail that we cannot prove such proposition as a prior, it does not appear to show that proposition could have ben false. Intuitively, it seems a better ground for supposing that it is a necessary truth of a special sort. A related question arises from the idea that truths of fact depend on God’s decision to create the best world: If it is part of the concept of this world that it is best, how could its existence be other than necessary? An accountable and responsively answered explanation would be so, that any relational question that brakes the norm lay eyes on its existence in the manner other than hypothetical necessities, i.e., it follows from God’s decision to create the world, but God had the power to create this world, but God is necessary, so how could he have decided to do anything else? Leibniz says much more about these matters, but it is not clear whether he offers any satisfactory solutions.
The view that the terms in which we think of some area are sufficiently infected with error for it to be better to abandon them than to continue to try to give coherent theories of their use. Eliminativism should be distinguished from scepticism that claims that we cannot know the truth about some area; eliminativism claims rather that there is no truth there to be known, in the terms that we currently think. An eliminativist about theology simply counsels abandoning the terms or discourse of theology, and that will include abandoning worries about the extent of theological knowledge.
Eliminativists in the philosophy of mind counsel abandoning the whole network of terms mind, consciousness, self, qualia that usher in the problems of mind and body. Sometimes the argument for doing this is that we should wait for a supposed future understanding of ourselves, based on cognitive science and better than any our current mental descriptions provide, sometimes it is supposed that physicalism shows that no mental description of ourselves could possibly be true.
Greek scepticism centred on the value of enquiry and questioning, scepticism is now the denial that knowledge or even rational belief is possible, either about some specific subject-matter, e.g., ethics, o r in any atra whatsoever. Classically, scepticism springs from the observation that the best methods in some area seem to fall short of giving us contact with the truth, e.g., there is a gulf between appearance and reality, and in frequency cites the conflicting judgements that our methods deliver, with the result that questions of truth become undecidable.
Sceptical tendencies emerged in the 14th-century writings of Nicholas of Autrecourt. His criticisms of any certainty beyond the immediate deliverance of the senses and basic logic, and in particular of any knowledge of either intellectual or material substances, anticipate the later scepticism of Balye and Hume. The; latter distinguishes between Pyrrhonistic and excessive scepticism, which he regarded as unlivable, and the more mitigated scepticism that accepts everyday or commonsense beliefs (not as the delivery of reason, but as due more to custom and habit), but is duly wary of the power of reason to give us much more. Mitigated scepticism is thus closer to the attitude fostered by ancient scepticism from Pyrrho through to Sexus Empiricus. Although the phrase ‘Cartesian scepticism’ is sometimes used, Descartes himself was not a sceptic, but in the method of doubt, uses a sceptical scenario in order to begin the process of finding a secure mark of knowledge. Descartes himself trusts a category of ‘clear and distinct’ ideas, not far removed from the phantasia kataleptiké of the Stoics.
Scepticism should not be confused with relativism, which is a doctrine about the nature of truth, and may be motivated by trying to avoid scepticism. Nor is it identical with eliminativism, which counsels abandoning an area of thought altogether, not because we cannot know the truth, but because there are no truths capable of being framed in the terms we use.
Descartes’s theory of knowledge starts with the quest for certainty, for an indubitable starting-point or foundation on the basis alone of which progress is possible. This is eventually found in the celebrated ‘Cogito ergo sum’: I think therefore I am. By locating the point of certainty in my own awareness of my own self, Descartes gives a first-person twist to the theory of knowledge that dominated them following centuries in spite of various counter-attacks on behalf of social and public starting-points. The metaphysics associated with this priority is the famous Cartesian dualism, or separation of mind and matter into two different but interacting substances, Descartes rigorously and rightly sees that it takes divine dispensation to certify any relationship between the two realms thus divided, and to prove the reliability of the senses invokes a ‘clear and distinct perception’ of highly dubious proofs of the existence of a benevolent deity. This has not met general acceptance: as Hume drily puts it, ‘to have recourse to the veracity of the supreme Being, in order to prove the veracity of our senses, is surely making a very unexpected circuit’.
In his own time Descartes’s conception of the entirely separate substance of the mind was recognized to give rise to insoluble problems of the nature of the causal connection between the two. It also gives rise to the problem, insoluble in its own terms, of other minds. Descartes’s notorious denial that non-human animals are conscious is a stark illustration of the problem. In his conception of matter Descartes also gives preference to rational cogitation over anything derived from the senses. Since we can conceive of the matter of a ball of wax surviving changes to its sensible qualities, matter is not an empirical concept, but eventually an entirely geometrical one, with extension and motion as its only physical nature. Descartes’s thought, as reflected in Leibniz, that the qualities of sense experience have no resemblance to qualities of things, so that knowledge of the external world is essentially knowledge of structure rather than of filling. On this basis Descartes erects a remarkable physics. Since matter is in effect the same as extension there can be no empty space or ‘void’, since there is no empty space motion is not a question of occupying previously empty space, but is to be thought of in terms of vortices (like the motion of a liquid).
Although the structure of Descartes’s epistemology, theory of mind, and theory of matter have ben rejected many times, their relentless exposure of the hardest issues, their exemplary clarity, and even their initial plausibility, all contrive to make him the central point of reference for modern philosophy.
The self conceived as Descartes presents it in the first two Meditations: aware only of its own thoughts, and capable of disembodied existence, neither situated in a space nor surrounded by others. This is the pure self of ‘I-ness’ that we are tempted to imagine as a simple unique thing that make up our essential identity. Descartes’s view that he could keep hold of this nugget while doubting everything else is criticized by Lichtenberg and Kant, and most subsequent philosophers of mind.
Descartes holds that we do not have any knowledge of any empirical proposition about anything beyond the contents of our own minds. The reason, roughly put, is that there is a legitimate doubt about all such propositions because there is no way to deny justifiably that our senses are being stimulated by some cause (an evil spirit, for example) which is radically different from the objects that we normally think affect our senses.
He also points out, that the senses (sight, hearing, touch, etc., are often unreliable, and ‘it is prudent never to trust entirely those who have deceived us even once’, he cited such instances as the straight stick that looks ben t in water, and the square tower that looks round from a distance. This argument of illusion, has not, on the whole, impressed commentators, and some of Descartes’ contemporaries pointing out that since such errors become known as a result of further sensory information, it cannot be right to cast wholesale doubt on the evidence of the senses. But Descartes regarded the argument from illusion as only the first stage in a softening up process which would ‘lead the mind away from the senses’. He admits that there are some cases of sense-base belief about which doubt would be insane, e.g., the belief that I am sitting here by the fire, wearing a winter dressing gown’.
Descartes was to realize that there was nothing in this view of nature that could explain or provide a foundation for the mental, or from direct experience as distinctly human. In a mechanistic universe, he said, there is no privileged place or function for mind, and the separation between mind and matter is absolute. Descartes was also convinced, that the immaterial essences that gave form and structure to this universe were coded in geometrical and mathematical ideas, and this insight led him to invent algebraic geometry.
A scientific understanding of these ideas could be derived, said Descartes, with the aid of precise deduction, and he also claimed that the contours of physical reality could be laid out in three-dimensional coordinates. Following the publication of Newton’s Principia Mathematica in 1687, reductionism and mathematical modelling became the most powerful tools of modern science. And the dream that the entire physical world could be known and mastered through the extension and refinement of mathematical theory became the central feature and guiding principle of scientific knowledge.
Having to its recourse of knowledge, its cental questions include the origin of knowledge, the place of experience in generating knowledge, and the place of reason in doing so, the relationship between knowledge and certainty, and between knowledge and the impossibility of error, the possibility of universal scepticism, and the changing forms of knowledge that arise from new conceptualizations of the world. All of these issues link with other central concerns of philosophy, such as the nature of truth and the natures of experience and meaning.
Foundationalism was associated with the ancient Stoics, and in the modern era with Descartes (1596-1650). Who discovered his foundations in the ‘clear and distinct’ ideas of reason? Its main opponent is Coherentism, or the view that a body of propositions mas be known without a foundation in certainty, but by their interlocking strength, than as a crossword puzzle may be known to have been solved correctly even if each answer, taken individually, admits of uncertainty. Difficulties at this point led the logical passivists to abandon the notion of an epistemological foundation altogether, and to flirt with the coherence theory of truth. It is widely accepted that trying to make the connection between thought and experience through basic sentences depends on an untenable ‘myth of the given’.
Still in spite of these concerns, the problem, least of mention, is of defining knowledge in terms of true beliefs plus some favoured relations between the believer and the facts that began with Plato’s view in the “Theaetetus,” that knowledge is true belief, and some logos. Due of its nonsynthetic epistemology, the enterprising of studying the actual formation of knowledge by human beings, without aspiring to certify those processes as rational, or its proof against ‘scepticism’ or even apt to yield the truth. Natural epistemology would therefore blend into the psychology of learning and the study of episodes in the history of science. The scope for ‘external’ or philosophical reflection of the kind that might result in scepticism or its refutation is markedly diminished. Despite the fact that the terms of modernity are so distinguished as exponents of the approach include Aristotle, Hume, and J. S. Mills.
The task of the philosopher of a discipline would then be to reveal the correct method and to unmask counterfeits. Although this belief lay behind much positivist philosophy of science, few philosophers now subscribe to it. It places too well a confidence in the possibility of a purely previous ‘first philosophy’, or viewpoint beyond that of the work one’s way of practitioners, from which their best efforts can be measured as good or bad. These standpoints now seem that too many philosophers to be a fanciefancy, that the more modest of tasks that are actually adopted at various historical stages of investigation into different areas with the aim not so much of criticizing but more of systematization, in the presuppositions of a particular field at a particular tie. There is still a role for local methodological disputes within the community investigators of some phenomenon, with one approach charging that another is unsound or unscientific, but logic and philosophy will not, on the modern view, provide an independent arsenal of weapons for such battles, which indeed often come to seem more like political bids for ascendancy within a discipline.
This is an approach to the theory of knowledge that sees an important connection between the growth of knowledge and biological evolution. An evolutionary epistemologist claims that the development of human knowledge processed through some natural selection process, the best example of which is Darwin’s theory of biological natural selection. There is a widespread misconception that evolution proceeds according to some plan or direct, but it has neither, and the role of chance ensures that its future course will be unpredictable. Random variations in individual organisms create tiny differences in their Darwinian fitness. Some individuals have more offsprings than others, and the characteristics that increased their fitness thereby become more prevalent in future generations. Once upon a time, at least a mutation occurred in a human population in tropical Africa that changed the haemoglobin molecule in a way that provided resistance to malaria. This enormous advantage caused the new gene to spread, with the unfortunate consequence that sickle-cell anaemia came to exist.
Chance can influence the outcome at each stage: First, in the creation of genetic mutation, second, in wether the bearer lives long enough to show its effects, thirdly, in chance events that influence the individual’s actual reproductive success, and fourth, in whether a gene even if favoured in one generation, is, happenstance, eliminated in the next, and finally in the many unpredictable environmental changes that will undoubtedly occur in the history of any group of organisms. As Harvard biologist Stephen Jay Gould has so vividly expressed that process over again, the outcome would surely be different. Not only might there not be humans, there might not even be anything like mammals.
We will often emphasis the elegance of traits shaped by natural selection, but the common idea that nature creates perfection needs to be analysed carefully. The extent to which evolution achieves perfection depends on exactly what you mean. If you mean “Does natural selections always take the best path for the long-term welfare of a species?” The answer is no. That would require adaption by group selection, and this is, unlikely. If you mean “Does natural selection creates every adaption that would be valuable?” The answer again, is no. For instance, some kinds of South American monkeys can grasp branches with their tails. The trick would surely also be useful to some African species, but, simply because of bad luck, none have it. Some combination of circumstances started some ancestral South American monkeys using their tails in ways that ultimately led to an ability to grab onto branches, while no such development took place in Africa. Mere usefulness of a trait does not necessitate a means in that what will understandably endure phylogenesis or evolution.
This is an approach to the theory of knowledge that sees an important connection between the growth of knowledge and biological evolution. An evolutionary epistemologist claims that the development of human knowledge proceeds through some natural selection process, the best example of which is Darwin’s theory of biological natural selection. The three major components of the model of natural selection are variation selection and retention. According to Darwin’s theory of natural selection, variations are not pre-designed to do certain functions. Rather, these variations that do useful functions are selected. While those that do not employ of some coordinates in that are regainfully purposed are also, not to any of a selection, as duly influenced of such a selection, that may have responsibilities for the visual aspects of a variational intentionally occurs. In the modern theory of evolution, genetic mutations provide the blind variations: Blind in the sense that variations are not influenced by the effects they would have-the likelihood of a mutation is not correlated with the benefits or liabilities that mutation would confer on the organism, the environment provides the filter of selection, and reproduction provides the retention. Fatnesses are achieved because those organisms with features that make them less adapted for survival do not survive in connection with other organisms in the environment that have features that are better adapted. Evolutionary epistemology applies this blind variation and selective retention model to the growth of scientific knowledge and to human thought processes overall.
The parallel between biological evolution and conceptual or ‘epistemic’ evolution can be seen as either literal or analogical. The literal version of evolutionary epistemology deeds biological evolution as the main cause of the growth of knowledge. On this view, called the ‘evolution of cognitive mechanic programs’, by Bradie (1986) and the ‘Darwinian approach to epistemology’ by Ruse (1986), that growth of knowledge occurs through blind variation and selective retention because biological natural selection itself is the cause of epistemic variation and selection. The most plausible version of the literal view does not hold that all human beliefs are innate but rather than the mental mechanisms that guide the acquisitions of non-innate beliefs are themselves innately and the result of biological natural selection. Ruse, (1986) demands of a version of literal evolutionary epistemology that he links to sociolology (Rescher, 1990).
On the analogical version of evolutionary epistemology, called the ‘evolution of theory’s program’, by Bradie (1986). The ‘Spenserians approach’ (after the nineteenth century philosopher Herbert Spencer) by Ruse (1986), the development of human knowledge is governed by a process analogous to biological natural selection, rather than by an instance of the mechanism itself. This version of evolutionary epistemology, introduced and elaborated by Donald Campbell (1974) as well as Karl Popper, sees the [partial] fit between theories and the world as explained by a mental process of trial and error known as epistemic natural selection.
Both versions of evolutionary epistemology are usually taken to be types of naturalized epistemology, because both take some empirical facts as a starting point for their epistemological project. The literal version of evolutionary epistemology begins by accepting evolutionary theory and a materialist approach to the mind and, from these, constructs an account of knowledge and its developments. In contrast, the metaphorical version does not require the truth of biological evolution: It simply draws on biological evolution as a source for the model of natural selection. For this version of evolutionary epistemology to be true, the model of natural selection need only apply to the growth of knowledge, not to the origin and development of species. Crudely put, evolutionary epistemology of the analogical sort could still be true even if Creationism is the correct theory of the origin of species.
Although they do not begin by assuming evolutionary theory, most analogical evolutionary epistemologists are naturalized epistemologists as well, their empirical assumptions, least of mention, implicitly come from psychology and cognitive science, not evolutionary theory. Sometimes, however, evolutionary epistemology is characterized in a seemingly non-naturalistic fashion. Campbell (1974) says that ‘if one is expanding knowledge beyond what one knows, one has no choice but to explore without the benefit of wisdom’, i.e., blindly. This, Campbell admits, makes evolutionary epistemology close to being a tautology (and so not naturalistic). Evolutionary epistemology does assert the analytic claim that when expanding one’s knowledge beyond what one knows, one must precessed to something that is already known, but, more interestingly, it also makes the synthetic claim that when expanding one’s knowledge beyond what one knows, one must proceed by blind variation and selective retention. This claim is synthetic because it can be empirically falsified. The central claim of evolutionary epistemology is synthetic, not analytic. If the central contradictory, which they are not. Campbell is right that evolutionary epistemology does have the analytic feature he mentions, but he is wrong to think that this is a distinguishing feature, since any plausible epistemology has the same analytic feature (Skagestad, 1978).
Two extraordinary issues lie to awaken the literature that involves questions about ‘realism’, i.e., What metaphysical commitment does an evolutionary epistemologist have to make? Progress, i.e., according to evolutionary epistemology, does knowledge develop toward a goal? With respect to realism, many evolutionary epistemologists endorse that is called ‘hypothetical realism’, a view that combines a version of epistemological ‘scepticism’ and tentative acceptance of metaphysical realism. With respect to progress, the problem is that biological evolution is not goal-directed, but the growth of human knowledge seems to be. Campbell (1974) worries about the potential dis-analogy here but is willing to bite the stone of conscience and admit that epistemic evolution progress toward a goal (truth) while biologic evolution does not. Many another has argued that evolutionary epistemologists must give up the ‘truth-topic’ sense of progress because a natural selection model is in essence, is non-teleological, as an alternative, following Kuhn (1970), and embraced in the accompaniment with evolutionary epistemology.
Among the most frequent and serious criticisms levelled against evolutionary epistemology is that the analogical version of the view is false because epistemic variation is not blind (Skagestad, 1978, 613-16, and Ruse, 1986, ch.2 (. Stein and Lipton (1990) have argued, however, that this objection fails because, while epistemic variation is not random, its constraints come from heuristics that, for the most part, are selective retention. Further, Stein and Lipton come to the conclusion that heuristics are analogous to biological pre-adaptions, evolutionary pre-biological pre-adaptions, evolutionary cursors, such as a half-wing, a precursor to a wing, which have some function other than the function of their descendable structures: The function of descendable structures, the function of their descendable character embodied to its structural foundations, is that of the guidelines of epistemic variation is, on this view, not the source of disanalogy, but the source of a more articulated account of the analogy.
Many evolutionary epistemologists try to combine the literal and the analogical versions (Bradie, 1986, and Stein and Lipton, 1990), saying that those beliefs and cognitive mechanisms, which are innate results from natural selection of the biological sort and those that are innate results from natural selection of the epistemic sort. This is reasonable as long as the two parts of this hybrid view are kept distinct. An analogical version of evolutionary epistemology with biological variation as its only source of blondeness would be a null theory: This would be the case if all our beliefs are innate or if our non-innate beliefs are not the result of blind variation. An appeal to the legitimate way to produce a hybrid version of evolutionary epistemology since doing so trivializes the theory. For similar reasons, such an appeal will not save an analogical version of evolutionary epistemology from arguments to the effect that epistemic variation is blind (Stein and Lipton, 1990).
Although it is a new approach to theory of knowledge, evolutionary epistemology has attracted much attention, primarily because it represents a serious attempt to flesh out a naturalized epistemology by drawing on several disciplines. In science is relevant to understanding the nature and development of knowledge, then evolutionary theory is among the disciplines worth a look. Insofar as evolutionary epistemology looks there, it is an interesting and potentially fruitful epistemological programme.
What makes a belief justified and what makes a true belief knowledge? Thinking that whether a belief deserves one of these appraisals is natural depends on what caused the depicted branch of knowledge to have the belief. In recent decades a number of epistemologists have pursued this plausible idea with a variety of specific proposals. Some causal theories of knowledge have it that a true belief that ‘p’ is knowledge just in case it has the right causal connection to the fact that ‘p’. Such a criterion can be applied only to cases where the fact that ‘p’ is a sort that can reach causal relations, as this seems to exclude mathematically and there necessary facts and perhaps any fact expressed by a universal generalization, and proponents of this sort of criterion have usually supposed that it is limited to perceptual representations where knowledge of particular facts about subjects’ environments.
For example, Armstrong (1973), predetermined that a position held by a belief in the form ‘This perceived object is ‘F’ is [non-inferential] knowledge if and only if the belief is a completely reliable sign that the perceived object is ‘F’, that is, the fact that the object is ‘F’ contributed to causing the belief and its doing so depended on properties of the believer such that the laws of nature dictated that, for any subject ‘χ’ and perceived object ‘y’, if ‘χ’ has those properties and believed that ‘y’ is ‘F’, then ‘y’ is ‘F’. (Dretske (1981) offers a rather similar account, in terms of the belief’s being caused by a signal received by the perceiver that carries the information that the object is ‘F’).
Goldman (1986) has proposed an importantly different causal criterion, namely, that a true belief is knowledge if it is produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ and ‘locally’ reliable. Causing true beliefs is sufficiently high is globally reliable if its propensity. Local reliability has to do with whether the process would have produced a similar but false belief in certain counterfactual situations alternative to the actual situation. This way of marking off true beliefs that are knowledge does not require the fact believed to be causally related to the belief, and so it could in principle apply to knowledge of any kind of truth.
Goldman requires the global reliability of the belief-producing process for the justification of a belief, he requires it also for knowledge because justification is required for knowledge. What he requires for knowledge, but does not require for justification is local reliability. His idea is that a justified true belief is knowledge if the type of process that produced it would not have produced it in any relevant counterfactual situation in which it is false. Its purported theory of relevant alternatives can be viewed as an attempt to provide a more satisfactory response to this tension in our thinking about knowledge. It attempts to characterize knowledge in a way that preserves both our belief that knowledge is an absolute concept and our belief that we have knowledge.
According to the theory, we need to qualify rather than deny the absolute character of knowledge. We should view knowledge as absolute, reactive to certain standards (Dretske, 1981 and Cohen, 1988). That is to say, in order to know a proposition, our evidence need not eliminate all the alternatives to that preposition, rather for ‘us’, that we can know our evidence eliminates al the relevant alternatives, where the set of relevant alternatives (a proper subset of the set of all alternatives) is determined by some standard. Moreover, according to the relevant alternatives view, and the standards determining that of the alternatives is raised by the sceptic are not relevant. If this is correct, then the fact that our evidence cannot eliminate the sceptic’s alternative does not lead to a sceptical result. For knowledge requires only the elimination of the relevant alternatives, so the relevant alternative view preserves in both strands in our thinking about knowledge. Knowledge is an absolute concept, but because the absoluteness is relative to a standard, we can know many things.
The interesting thesis that counts as a causal theory of justification (in the meaning of ‘causal theory’ intended here) are that: A belief is justified in case it was produced by a type of process that is ‘globally’ reliable, that is, its propensity to produce true beliefs-that can be defined (to a good approximation) As the proportion of the beliefs it produces (or would produce) that is true is sufficiently great.
This proposal will be adequately specified only when we are told (I) how much of the causal history of a belief counts as part of the process that produced it, (ii) which of the many types to which the process belongs is the type for purposes of assessing its reliability, and (iii) relative to why the world or worlds are the reliability of the process type to be assessed the actual world, the closet worlds containing the case being considered, or something else? Let ‘us’ look at the answers suggested by Goldman, the leading proponent of a reliabilist account of justification.
(1) Goldman (1979, 1986) takes the relevant belief producing process to include only the proximate causes internal to the believer. So, for instance, when recently I believed that the telephone was ringing the process that produced the belief, for purposes of assessing reliability, includes just the causal chain of neural events from the stimulus in my ear’s inward ands other concurrent brain states on which the production of the belief depended: It does not include any events’ I the telephone, or the sound waves travelling between it and my ears, or any earlier decisions I made that were responsible for my being within hearing distance of the telephone at that time. It does seem intuitively plausible of a belief depends should be restricted to internal omnes proximate to the belief. Why? Goldman does not tell ‘us’. One answer that some philosophers might give is that it is because a belief’s being justified at a given time can depend only on facts directly accessible to the believer’s awareness at that time (for, if a believer ought to holds only beliefs that are justified, she can tell at any given time what beliefs would then be justified for her). However, this cannot be Goldman’s answer because he wishes to include in the relevantly process neural events that are not directly accessible to consciousness.
(2) Once the reliabilist has told ‘us’ how to delimit the process producing a belief, he needs to tell ‘us’ which of the many types to which it belongs is the relevant type. Coincide, for example, the process that produces your current belief that you see a book before you. One very broad type to which that process belongs would be specified by ‘coming to a belief as to something one perceives as a result of activation of the nerve endings in some of one’s sense-organs’. A constricted type, in which that unvarying processes belong would be specified by ‘coming to a belief as to what one sees as a result of activation of the nerve endings in one’s retinas’. A still narrower type would be given by inserting in the last specification a description of a particular pattern of activation of the retina’s particular cells. Which of these or other types to which the token process belongs is the relevant type for determining whether the type of process that produced your belief is reliable?
If we select a type that is too broad, as having the same degree of justification various beliefs that intuitively seem to have different degrees of justification. Thus the broadest type we specified for your belief that you see a book before you apply also to perceptual beliefs where the object seen is far away and seen only briefly is less justified. On the other hand, is we are allowed to select a type that is as narrow as we please, then we make it out that an obviously unjustified but true belief is produced by a reliable type of process. For example, suppose I see a blurred shape through the fog far in a field and unjustifiedly, but correctly, believe that it is a sheep: If we include enough details about my retinal image is specifying te type of the visual process that produced that belief, we can specify a type is likely to have only that one instanced and is therefore 100 percent reliable. Goldman conjectures (1986) that the relevant process type is ‘the narrowest type that is casually operative’. Presumably, a feature of the process producing beliefs were causally operatives in producing it just in case some alternative feature instead, but it would not have led to that belief. (We need to say ‘some’ here rather than ‘any’, because, for example, when I see an oak or pine tree, the particular ‘like-minded’ material bodies of my retinal image is causably clearly toward the operatives in producing my belief that what is seen as a tree, even though there are alternative shapes, for example, ‘pineish’ or ‘birchness’ ones, that would have produced the same belief.)
(3) Should the justification of a belief in a hypothetical, non-actual example turn on the reliability of the belief-producing process in the possible world of the example? That leads to the implausible result in that in a world run by a Cartesian demon-a powerful being who causes the other inhabitants of the world to have rich and coherent sets of perceptual and memory impressions that are all illusory the perceptual and memory beliefs of the other inhabitants are all unjustified, for they are produced by processes that are, in that world, quite unreliable. If we say instead that it is the reliability of the processes in the actual world that matters, we get the equally undesired result that if the actual world is a demon world then our perceptual and memory beliefs are all unjustified.
Goldman’s solution (1986) is that the reliability of the process types is to be gauged by their performance in ‘normal’ worlds, that is, worlds consistent with ‘our general beliefs about the world . . . ‘about the sorts of objects, events and changes that occur in it’. This gives the intuitively right results for the problem cases just considered, but indicate by inference an implausible proportion of making compensations for alternative tending toward justification. If there are people whose general beliefs about the world are very different from mine, then there may, on this account, be beliefs that I can correctly regard as justified (ones produced by processes that are reliable in what I take to be a normal world) but that they can correctly regard as not justified.
However, these questions about the specifics are dealt with, and there are reasons for questioning the basic idea that the criterion for a belief’s being justified is its being produced by a reliable process. Thus and so, doubt about the sufficiency of the reliabilist criterion is prompted by a sort of example that Goldman himself uses for another purpose. Suppose that being in brain-state ‘B’ always causes one to believe that one is in brained-state ‘B’. Here the reliability of the belief-producing process is perfect, but ‘we can readily imagine circumstances in which a person goes into grain-state ‘B’ and therefore has the belief in question, though this belief is by no means justified’ (Goldman, 1979). Doubt about the necessity of the condition arises from the possibility that one might know that one has strong justification for a certain belief and yet that knowledge is not what actually prompts one to believe. For example, I might be well aware that, having read the weather bureau’s forecast that it will be much hotter tomorrow. I have ample reason to be confident that it will be hotter tomorrow, but I irrationally refuse to believe it until Wally tells me that he feels in his joints that it will be hotter tomorrow. Here what prompts me to believe dors not justify my belief, but my belief is nevertheless justified by my knowledge of the weather bureau’s prediction and of its evidential force: I can advert to any disavowable inference that I ought not to be holding the belief. Indeed, given my justification and that there is nothing untoward about the weather bureau’s prediction, my belief, if true, can be counted knowledge. This sorts of example raises doubt whether any causal conditions, are it a reliable process or something else, is necessary for either justification or knowledge.
Philosophers and scientists alike, have often held that the simplicity or parsimony of a theory is one reason, all else being equal, to view it as true. This goes beyond the unproblematic idea that simpler theories are easier to work with and gave greater aesthetic appeal.
One theory is more parsimonious than another when it postulates fewer entities, processes, changes or explanatory principles: The simplicity of a theory depends on essentially the same consecrations, though parsimony and simplicity obviously become the same. Demanding clarification of what makes one theory simpler or more parsimonious is plausible than another before the justification of these methodological maxims can be addressed.
If we set this description problem to one side, the major normative problem is as follows: What reason is there to think that simplicity is a sign of truth? Why should we accept a simpler theory instead of its more complex rivals? Newton and Leibniz thought that the answer was to be found in a substantive fact about nature. In “Principia,” Newton laid down as his first Rule of Reasoning in Philosophy that ‘nature does nothing in vain . . . ‘for Nature is pleased with simplicity and affects not the pomp of superfluous causes’. Leibniz hypothesized that the actual world obeys simple laws because God’s taste for simplicity influenced his decision about which world to actualize.
The tragedy of the Western mind, described by Koyré, is a direct consequence of the stark Cartesian division between mind and world. We discovered the ‘certain principles of physical reality’, said Descartes, ‘not by the prejudices of the senses, but by the light of reason, and which thus possess so great evidence that we cannot doubt of their truth’. Since the real, or that which actually exists external to ourselves, was in his view only that which could be represented in the quantitative terms of mathematics, Descartes conclude that all quantitative aspects of reality could be traced to the deceitfulness of the senses.
The most fundamental aspect of the Western intellectual tradition is the assumption that there is a fundamental division between the material and the immaterial world or between the realm of matter and the realm of pure mind or spirit. The metaphysical frame-work based on this assumption is known as ontological dualism. As the word dual implies, the framework is predicated on an ontology, or a conception of the nature of God or Being, that assumes reality has two distinct and separable dimensions. The concept of Being as continuous, immutable, and having a prior or separate existence from the world of change dates from the ancient Greek philosopher Parmenides. The same qualities were associated with the God of the Judeo-Christian tradition, and they were considerably amplified by the role played in theology by Platonic and Neoplatonic philosophy.
Nicolas Copernicus, Galileo, Johannes Kepler, and Isaac Newton were all inheritors of a cultural tradition in which ontological dualism was a primary article of faith. Hence the idealization of the mathematical ideal as a source of communion with God, which dates from Pythagoras, provided a metaphysical foundation for the emerging natural sciences. This explains why, the creators of classical physics believed that doing physics was a form of communion with the geometrical and mathematical forms’ resident in the perfect mind of God. This view would survive in a modified form in what is now known as Einsteinian epistemology and accounts in no small part for the reluctance of many physicists to accept the epistemology associated with the Copenhagen Interpretation.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, Pierre-Sinon LaPlace, along with a number of other French mathematicians, advanced the view that the science of mechanics constituted a complete view of nature. Since this science, by observing its epistemology, had revealed itself to be the fundamental science, the hypothesis of God was, they concluded, entirely unnecessary.
LaPlace is recognized for eliminating not only the theological component of classical physics but the ‘entire metaphysical component’ as well’. The epistemology of science requires, he said, that we proceed by inductive generalizations from observed facts to hypotheses that are ‘tested by observed conformity of the phenomena’. What was unique about LaPlace’s view of hypotheses was his insistence that we cannot attribute reality to them. Although concepts like force, mass, motion, cause, and laws are obviously present in classical physics, they exist in LaPlace’s view only as quantities. Physics is concerned, he argued, with quantities that we associate as a matter of convenience with concepts, and the truths about nature are only the quantities.
As this view of hypotheses and the truths of nature as quantities was extended in the nineteenth century to a mathematical description of phenomena like heat, light, electricity, and magnetism. LaPlace’s assumptions about the actual character of scientific truths seemed correct. This progress suggested that if we could remove all thoughts about the ‘nature of’ or the ‘source of’ phenomena, the pursuit of strictly quantitative concepts would bring us to a complete description of all aspects of physical reality. Subsequently, figures like Comte, Kirchhoff, Hertz, and Poincaré developed a program for the study of nature hat was quite different from that of the original creators of classical physics.
The seventeenth-century view of physics as a philosophy of nature or as natural philosophy was displaced by the view of physics as an autonomous science that was ‘the science of nature’. This view, which was premised on the doctrine of positivism, promised to subsume all of nature with a mathematical analysis of entities in motion and claimed that the true understanding of nature was revealed only in the mathematical description. Since the doctrine of positivism assumes that the knowledge we call physics resides only in the mathematical formalism of physical theory, it disallows the prospect that the vision of physical reality revealed in physical theory can have any other meaning. In the history of science, the irony is that positivism, which was intended to banish metaphysical concerns from the domain of science, served to perpetuate a seventeenth-century metaphysical assumption about the relationship between physical reality and physical theory.
Epistemology since Hume and Kant has drawn back from this theological underpinning. Indeed, the very idea that nature is simple (or uniform) has come in for a critique. The view has taken hold that a preference for simple and parsimonious hypotheses is purely methodological: It is constitutive of the attitude we call ‘scientific’ and makes no substantive assumption about the way the world is.
A variety of otherwise diverse twentieth-century philosophers of science have attempted, in different ways, to flesh out this position. Two examples must suffice here: Hesse (1969) as, for summaries of other proposals. Popper (1959) holds that scientists should prefer highly falsifiable (improbable) theories: He tries to show that simpler theories are more falsifiable, also Quine (1966), in contrast, sees a virtue in theories that are highly probable, he argues for a general connection between simplicity and high probability.
Both these proposals are global. They attempt to explain why simplicity should be part of the scientific method in a way that spans all scientific subject matters. No assumption about the details of any particular scientific problem serves as a premiss in Popper’s or Quine’s arguments.
Newton and Leibniz thought that the justification of parsimony and simplicity flows from the hand of God: Popper and Quine try to justify these methodologically median of importance is without assuming anything substantive about the way the world is. In spite of these differences in approach, they have something in common. They assume that all users of parsimony and simplicity in the separate sciences can be encompassed in a single justifying argument. That recent developments in confirmation theory suggest that this assumption should be scrutinized. Good (1983) and Rosenkrantz (1977) has emphasized the role of auxiliary assumptions in mediating the connection between hypotheses and observations. Whether a hypothesis is well supported by some observations, or whether one hypothesis is better supported than another by those observations, crucially depends on empirical background assumptions about the inference problem here. The same view applies to the idea of prior probability (or, prior plausibility). In of a single hypo-physical science if chosen as an alternative to another even though they are equally supported by current observations, this must be due to an empirical background assumption.
Principles of parsimony and simplicity mediate the epistemic connection between hypotheses and observations. Perhaps these principles are able to do this because they are surrogates for an empirical background theory. It is not that there is one background theory presupposed by every appeal to parsimony; This has the quantifier order backwards. Rather, the suggestion is that each parsimony argument is justified only to each degree that it reflects an empirical background theory about the subjective matter. On this theory is brought out into the open, but the principle of parsimony is entirely dispensable (Sober, 1988).
This ‘local’ approach to the principles of parsimony and simplicity resurrects the idea that they make sense only if the world is one way rather than another. It rejects the idea that these maxims are purely methodological. How defensible this point of view is, will depend on detailed case studies of scientific hypothesis evaluation and on further developments in the theory of scientific inference.
It is usually not found of one and the same that, an inference is a (perhaps very complex) act of thought by virtue of which act (1) I pass from a set of one or more propositions or statements to a proposition or statement and (2) it appears that the latter are true if the former is or are. This psychological characterization has occurred over a wider summation of literature under more lesser than inessential variations. Desiring a better characterization of inference is natural. Yet attempts to do so by constructing a fuller psychological explanation fail to comprehend the grounds on which inference will be objectively valid-A point elaborately made by Gottlob Frége. Attempts to understand the nature of inference through the device of the representation of inference by formal-logical calculations or derivations better (1) leave ‘us’ puzzled about the relation of formal-logical derivations to the informal inferences they are supposedly to represent or reconstruct, and (2) leaves ‘us’ worried about the sense of such formal derivations. Are these derivations inference? Are not informal inferences needed in order to apply the rules governing the constructions of formal derivations (inferring that this operation is an application of that formal rule)? These are concerns cultivated by, for example, Wittgenstein.
Coming up with an adequate characterization of inference-and even working out what would count as a very adequate characterization here is demandingly by no means nearly some resolved philosophical problem.
The rule of inference, as for raised by Lewis Carroll, the Zeno-like problem of how a ‘proof’ ever gets started. Suppose I have as premises (I) ‘p’ and (ii) p ➝ q. Can I infer ‘q’? Only, it seems, if I am sure of (iii) (p & p ➝q) ➝ q. Can I then infer ‘q’? Only, it seems, if I am sure that (iv) (p & p ➝ q & (p & p ➝ q) ➝ q) ➝ q. For each new axiom (N) I need a further axiom (N + 1) telling me that the set so far implies ‘q’, and the regress never stops. The usual solution is to treat a system as containing not only axioms, but also rules of inference, allowing movement from the axioms. The rule ‘modus ponens’ allow ‘us’ to pass from the first premise to ‘q’. Carroll’s puzzle shows that distinguishing two theoretical categories is essential, although there may be choice about which theses to put in which category.
Traditionally, a proposition that is not a ‘conditional’, as with the ‘affirmative’ and ‘negative’, modern opinion is wary of the distinction, since what appears categorical may vary with the choice of a primitive vocabulary and notation. Apparently categorical propositions may also turn out to be disguised conditionals: ‘X’ is intelligent (categorical?) Equivalent, if ‘X’ is given a range of tasks, she does them better than many people (conditional?). The problem is not merely one of classification, since deep metaphysical questions arise when facts that seem to be categorical and therefore solid, come to seem by contrast conditional, or purely hypothetical or potential.
Its condition of some classified necessity is so proven sufficient that if ‘p’ is a necessary condition of ‘q’, then ‘q’ cannot be true unless ‘p’; is true? If ‘p’ is a sufficient condition, thus steering well is a necessary condition of driving in a satisfactory manner, but it is not sufficient, for one can steer well but drive badly for other reasons. Confusion may result if the distinction is not heeded. For example, the statement that ‘A’ causes ‘B’ may be interpreted to mean that ‘A’ is itself a sufficient condition for ‘B’, or that it is only a necessary condition fort ‘B’, or perhaps a necessary parts of a total sufficient condition. Lists of conditions to be met for satisfying some administrative or legal requirement frequently attempt to give individually necessary and jointly sufficient sets of conditions.
What is more, that if any proposition of the form ‘if p then q’. The condition hypothesized, ‘p’. Is called the antecedent of the conditionals, and ‘q’, the consequent? Various kinds of conditional have been distinguished. Its weakest is that of ‘material implication’, merely telling that either ‘not-p’, or ‘q’. Stronger conditionals include elements of ‘modality’, corresponding to the thought that ‘if p is truer then q must be true’. Ordinary language is very flexible in its use of the conditional form, and there is controversy whether conditionals are better treated semantically, yielding differently finds of conditionals with different meanings, or pragmatically, in which case there should be one basic meaning with surface differences arising from other implicatures.
It follows from the definition of ‘strict implication’ that a necessary proposition is strictly implied by any proposition, and that an impossible proposition strictly implies any proposition. If strict implication corresponds to ‘q follows from p’, then this means that a necessary proposition follows from anything at all, and anything at all follows from an impossible proposition. This is a problem if we wish to distinguish between valid and invalid arguments with necessary conclusions or impossible premises.
The Humean problem of induction is that if we would suppose that there is some property ‘A’ concerning and observational or an experimental situation, and that out of a large number of observed instances of ‘A’, some fraction m/n (possibly equal to 1) has also been instances of some logically independent property ‘B’. Suppose further that the background proportionate circumstances not specified in these descriptions have been varied to a substantial degree and that there is no collateral information available concerning the frequency of ‘B’s’ among ‘A’s or concerning causal or nomologically connections between instances of ‘A’ and instances of ‘B’.
In this situation, an ‘enumerative’ or ‘instantial’ induction inference would move rights from the premise, that m/n of observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ to the conclusion that approximately m/n of all ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s. (The usual probability qualification will be assumed to apply to the inference, rather than being part of the conclusion.) Here the class of ‘A’s’ should be taken to include not only unobserved ‘A’s’ and future ‘A’s’, but also possible or hypothetical ‘A’s’ (an alternative conclusion would concern the probability or likelihood of the adjacently observed ‘A’ being a ‘B’).
The traditional or Humean problem of induction, often referred to simply as ‘the problem of induction’, is the problem of whether and why inferences that fit this schema should be considered rationally acceptable or justified from an epistemic or cognitive standpoint, i.e., whether and why reasoning in this way is likely to lead to true claims about the world. Is there any sort of argument or rationale that can be offered for thinking that conclusions reached in this way are likely to be true in the corresponding premisses is true ‒or even that their chances of truth are significantly enhanced?
Hume’s discussion of this issue deals explicitly only with cases where all observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ and his argument applies just as well to the more general case. His conclusion is entirely negative and sceptical: Inductive inferences are not rationally justified, but are instead the result of an essentially a-rational process, custom or habit. Hume (1711-76) challenges the proponent of induction to supply a cogent line of reasoning that leads from an inductive premise to the corresponding conclusion and offers an extremely influential argument in the form of a dilemma (a few times referred to as ‘Hume’s fork’), that either our actions are determined, in which case we are not responsible for them, or they are the result of random events, under which case we are also not responsible for them.
Such reasoning would, he argues, have to be either deductively demonstrative reasoning in the concerning relations of ideas or ‘experimental’, i.e., empirical, that reasoning concerning matters of fact or existence. It cannot be the former, because all demonstrative reasoning relies on the avoidance of contradiction, and it is not a contradiction to suppose that ‘the course of nature may change’, that an order that was observed in the past and not of its continuing against the future: But it cannot be, as the latter, since any empirical argument would appeal to the success of such reasoning about an experience, and the justifiability of generalizing from experience are precisely what is at issue-so that any such appeal would be question-begging. Hence, Hume concludes that there can be no such reasoning (1748).
An alternative version of the problem may be obtained by formulating it with reference to the so-called Principle of Induction, which says roughly that the future will resemble the past or, somewhat better, that unobserved cases will resemble observed cases. An inductive argument may be viewed as enthymematic, with this principle serving as a supposed premiss, in which case the issue is obviously how such a premiss can be justified. Hume’s argument is then that no such justification is possible: The principle cannot be justified a prior because having possession of been true in experiences without obviously begging the question is not contradictory to have possession of been true in experiences without obviously begging the question.
The predominant recent responses to the problem of induction, at least in the analytic tradition, in effect accept the main conclusion of Hume’s argument, namely, that inductive inferences cannot be justified in the sense of showing that the conclusion of such an inference is likely to be true if the premise is true, and thus attempt to find another sort of justification for induction. Such responses fall into two main categories: (I) Pragmatic justifications or ‘vindications’ of induction, mainly developed by Hans Reichenbach (1891-1953), and (ii) ordinary language justifications of induction, whose most important proponent is Frederick, Peter Strawson (1919-). In contrast, some philosophers still attempt to reject Hume’s dilemma by arguing either (iii) That, contrary to appearances, induction can be inductively justified without vicious circularity, or (iv) that an anticipatory justification of induction is possible after all. In that:
(1) Reichenbach’s view is that induction is best regarded, not as a form of inference, but rather as a ‘method’ for arriving at posits regarding, i.e., the proportion of ‘A’s’ remain additionally of ‘B’s’. Such a posit is not a claim asserted to be true, but is instead an intellectual wager analogous to a bet made by a gambler. Understood in this way, the inductive method says that one should posit that the observed proportion is, within some measure of an approximation, the true proportion and then continually correct that initial posit as new information comes in.
The gambler’s bet is normally an ‘appraised posit’, i.e., he knows the chances or odds that the outcome on which he bets will actually occur. In contrast, the inductive bet is a ‘blind posit’: We do not know the chances that it will succeed or even that success is that it will succeed or even that success is possible. What we are gambling on when we make such a bet is the value of a certain proportion in the independent world, which Reichenbach construes as the limit of the observed proportion as the number of cases increases to infinity. Nevertheless, we have no way of knowing that there are even such a limit, and no way of knowing that the proportion of ‘A’s’ are in addition of ‘B’s’ converges in the end on some stable value than varying at random. If we cannot know that this limit exists, then we obviously cannot know that we have any definite chance of finding it.
What we can know, according to Reichenbach, is that ‘if’ there is a truth of this sort to be found, the inductive method will eventually find it’. That this is so is an analytic consequence of Reichenbach’s account of what it is for such a limit to exist. The only way that the inductive method of making an initial posit and then refining it in light of new observations can fail eventually to arrive at the true proportion is if the series of observed proportions never converges on any stable value, which means that there is no truth to be found pertaining the proportion of ‘A’s additionally constitute ‘B’s’. Thus, induction is justified, not by showing that it will succeed or indeed, that it has any definite likelihood of success, but only by showing that it will succeed if success is possible. Reichenbach’s claim is that no more than this can be established for any method, and hence that induction gives ‘us’ our best chance for success, our best gamble in a situation where there is no alternative to gambling.
This pragmatic response to the problem of induction faces several serious problems. First, there are indefinitely many other ‘methods’ for arriving at posits for which the same sort of defence can be given-methods that yield the same result as the inductive method over time but differ arbitrarily before long. Despite the efforts of others, it is unclear that there is any satisfactory way to exclude such alternatives, in order to avoid the result that any arbitrarily chosen short-term posit is just as reasonable as the inductive posit. Second, even if there is a truth of the requisite sort to be found, the inductive method is only guaranteed to find it or even to come within any specifiable distance of it in the indefinite long run. All the same, any actual application of inductive results always takes place in the presence to the future eventful states in making the relevance of the pragmatic justification to actual practice uncertainly. Third, and most important, it needs to be emphasized that Reichenbach’s response to the problem simply accepts the claim of the Humean sceptic that an inductive premise never provides the slightest reason for thinking that the corresponding inductive conclusion is true. Reichenbach himself is quite candid on this point, but this does not alleviate the intuitive implausibility of saying that we have no more reason for thinking that our scientific and commonsense conclusions that result in the induction of it ‘ . . . is true’ than, to use Reichenbach’s own analogy (1949), a blind man wandering in the mountains who feels an apparent trail with his stick has for thinking that following it will lead him to safety.
An approach to induction resembling Reichenbach’s claiming in that those particular inductive conclusions are posits or conjectures, than the conclusions of cogent inferences, is offered by Popper. However, Popper’s view is even more overtly sceptical: It amounts to saying that all that can ever be said in favour of the truth of an inductive claim is that the claim has been tested and not yet been shown to be false.
(2) The ordinary language response to the problem of induction has been advocated by many philosophers, none the less, Strawson claims that the question whether induction is justified or reasonable makes sense only if it tacitly involves the demand that inductive reasoning meet the standards appropriate to deductive reasoning, i.e., that the inductive conclusions are shown to follow deductively from the inductive assumption. Such a demand cannot, of course, be met, but only because it is illegitimate: Inductive and deductive reasons are simply fundamentally different kinds of reasoning, each possessing its own autonomous standards, and there is no reason to demand or expect that one of these kinds meet the standards of the other. Whereas, if induction is assessed by inductive standards, the only ones that are appropriate, then it is obviously justified.
The problem here is to understand to what this allegedly obvious justification of an induction amount. In his main discussion of the point (1952), Strawson claims that it is an analytic true statement that believing it a conclusion for which there is strong evidence is reasonable and an analytic truth that inductive evidence of the sort captured by the schema presented earlier constitutes strong evidence for the corresponding inductive conclusion, thus, apparently yielding the analytic conclusion that believing it a conclusion for which there is inductive evidence is reasonable. Nevertheless, he also admits, indeed insists, that the claim that inductive conclusions will be true in the future is contingent, empirical, and may turn out to be false (1952). Thus, the notion of reasonable belief and the correlative notion of strong evidence must apparently be understood in ways that have nothing to do with likelihood of truth, presumably by appeal to the standard of reasonableness and strength of evidence that are accepted by the community and are embodied in ordinary usage.
Understood in this way, Strawson’s response to the problem of inductive reasoning does not speak to the central issue raised by Humean scepticism: The issue of whether the conclusions of inductive arguments are likely to be true. It amounts to saying merely that if we reason in this way, we can correctly call ourselves ‘reasonable’ and our evidence ‘strong’, according to our accepted community standards. Nevertheless, to the undersealing of issue of wether following these standards is a good way to find the truth, the ordinary language response appears to have nothing to say.
(3) The main attempts to show that induction can be justified inductively have concentrated on showing that such as a defence can avoid circularity. Skyrms (1975) formulate, perhaps the clearest version of this general strategy. The basic idea is to distinguish different levels of inductive argument: A first level in which induction is applied to things other than arguments: A second level in which it is applied to arguments at the first level, arguing that they have been observed to succeed so far and hence are likely to succeed in general: A third level in which it is applied in the same way to arguments at the second level, and so on. Circularity is allegedly avoided by treating each of these levels as autonomous and justifying the argument at each level by appeal to an argument at the next level.
One problem with this sort of move is that even if circularity is avoided, the movement to higher and higher levels will clearly eventually fail simply for lack of evidence: A level will reach at which there have been enough successful inductive arguments to provide a basis for inductive justification at the next higher level, and if this is so, then the whole series of justifications collapses. A more fundamental difficulty is that the epistemological significance of the distinction between levels is obscure. If the issue is whether reasoning in accord with the original schema offered above ever provides a good reason for thinking that the conclusion is likely to be true, then it still seems question-begging, even if not flatly circular, to answer this question by appeal to anther argument of the same form.
(4) The idea that induction can be justified on a pure priori basis is in one way the most natural response of all: It alone treats an inductive argument as an independently cogent piece of reasoning whose conclusion can be seen rationally to follow, although perhaps only with probability from its premise. Such an approach has, however, only rarely been advocated (Russell, 19132 and BonJour, 1986), and is widely thought to be clearly and demonstrably hopeless.
Many on the reasons for this pessimistic view depend on general epistemological theses about the possible or nature of anticipatory cognition. Thus if, as Quine alleges, there is no a prior justification of any kind, then obviously a prior justification for induction is ruled out. Or if, as more moderate empiricists have in claiming some preexistent knowledge should be analytic, then again a prevenient justification for induction seems to be precluded, since the claim that if an inductive premise ids truer, then the conclusion is likely to be true does not fit the standard conceptions of ‘analyticity’. A consideration of these matters is beyond the scope of the present spoken exchange.
There are, however, two more specific and quite influential reasons for thinking that an early approach is impossible that can be briefly considered, first, there is the assumption, originating in Hume, but since adopted by very many of others, that a move forward in the defence of induction would have to involve ‘turning induction into deduction’, i.e., showing, per impossible, that the inductive conclusion follows deductively from the premise, so that it is a formal contradiction to accept the latter and deny the former. However, it is unclear why a prior approach need be committed to anything this strong. It would be enough if it could be argued that it is deductively unlikely that such a premise is true and corresponding conclusion false.
Second, Reichenbach defends his view that pragmatic justification is the best that is possible by pointing out that a completely chaotic world in which there is simply not true conclusion to be found as to the proportion of ‘A’s’ in addition that occur of, but B’s’ is neither impossible nor unlikely from a purely a prior standpoint, the suggestion being that therefore there can be no a prior reason for thinking that such a conclusion is true. Nevertheless, there is still a substring wayin laying that a chaotic world is a prior neither impossible nor unlikely without any further evidence does not show that such a world os not a prior unlikely and a world containing such-and-such regularity might anticipatorially be somewhat likely in relation to an occurrence of a long-run patten of evidence in which a certain stable proportion of observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ ~. An occurrence, it might be claimed, that would be highly unlikely in a chaotic world (BonJour, 1986).
Goodman’s ‘new riddle of induction’ purports that we suppose that before some specific time ’t’ (perhaps the year 2000) we observe a larger number of emeralds (property A) and find them all to be green (property B). We proceed to reason inductively and conclude that all emeralds are green Goodman points out, however, that we could have drawn a quite different conclusion from the same evidence. If we define the term ‘grue’ to mean ‘green if examined before ’t’ and blue examined after t ʹ, then all of our observed emeralds will also be gruing. A parallel inductive argument will yield the conclusion that all emeralds are gruing, and hence that all those examined after the year 2000 will be blue. Presumably the first of these concisions is genuinely supported by our observations and the second is not. Nevertheless, the problem is to say why this is so and to impose some further restriction upon inductive reasoning that will permit the first argument and exclude the second.
The obvious alternative suggestion is that ‘grue. Similar predicates do not correspond to genuine, purely qualitative properties in the way that ‘green’ and ‘blueness’ does, and that this is why inductive arguments involving them are unacceptable. Goodman, however, claims to be unable to make clear sense of this suggestion, pointing out that the relations of formal desirability are perfectly symmetrical: Grue’ may be defined in terms if, ‘green’ and ‘blue’, but ‘green’ an equally well be defined in terms of ‘grue’ and ‘green’ (blue if examined before ‘t’ and green if examined after ‘t’).
The ‘grued, paradoxes’ demonstrate the importance of categorization, in that sometimes it is itemized as ‘gruing’, if examined of a presence to the future, before future time ‘t’ and ‘green’, or not so examined and ‘blue’. Even though all emeralds in our evidence class grue, we ought must infer that all emeralds are gruing. For ‘grue’ is unprojectible, and cannot transmit credibility from known to unknown cases. Only projectable predicates are right for induction. Goodman considers entrenchment the key to projectibility having a long history of successful protection, ‘grue’ is entrenched, lacking such a history, ‘grue’ is not. A hypothesis is projectable, Goodman suggests, only if its predicates (or suitable related ones) are much better entrenched than its rivalrous past successes that do not assume future ones. Induction remains a risky business. The rationale for favouring entrenched predicates is pragmatic. Of the possible projections from our evidence class, the one that fits with past practices enables ‘us’ to utilize our cognitive resources best. Its prospects of being true are worse than its competitors’ and its cognitive utility is greater.
So, to a better understanding of induction we should then term is most widely used for any process of reasoning that takes ‘us’ from empirical premises to empirical conclusions supported by the premises, but not deductively entailed by them. Inductive arguments are therefore kinds of applicative arguments, in which something beyond the content of the premise is inferred as probable or supported by them. Induction is, however, commonly distinguished from arguments to theoretical explanations, which share this applicative character, by being confined to inferences in which he conclusion involves the same properties or relations as the premises. The central example is induction by simple enumeration, where from premises telling that Fa, Fb, Fc . . . ‘where a, b, c’s, are all of some kind ‘G’, it is inferred that G’s from outside the sample, such as future G’s, will be ‘F’, or perhaps that all G’s are ‘F’. In this, which and the other persons deceive them, children may infer that everyone is a deceiver: Different, but similar inferences of a property by some object to the same object’s future possession of the same property, or from the constancy of some law-like pattern in events and states of affairs ti its future constancy. All objects we know of attract each other with a force inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them, so perhaps they all do so, and will always do so.
The rational basis of any inference was challenged by Hume, who believed that induction presupposed belie in the uniformity of nature, but that this belief has no defence in reason, and merely reflected a habit or custom of the mind. Hume was not therefore sceptical about the role of reason in either explaining it or justifying it. Trying to answer Hume and to show that there is something rationally compelling about the inference referred to as the problem of induction. It is widely recognized that any rational defence of induction will have to partition well-behaved properties for which the inference is plausible (often called projectable properties) from badly behaved ones, for which it is not. It is also recognized that actual inductive habits are more complex than those of similar enumeration, and that both common sense and science pay attention to such giving factors as variations within the sample giving ‘us’ the evidence, the application of ancillary beliefs about the order of nature, and so on.
Nevertheless, the fundamental problem remains that ant experience condition by application show ‘us’ only events occurring within a very restricted part of a vast spatial and temporal order about which we then come to believe things.
Uncompounded by its belonging of a confirmation theory finding of the measure to which evidence supports a theory fully formalized confirmation theory would dictate the degree of confidence that a rational investigator might have in a theory, given some-body of evidence. The grandfather of confirmation theory is Gottfried Leibniz (1646-1718), who believed that a logically transparent language of science would be able to resolve all disputes. In the 20th century a fully formal confirmation theory was a main goal of the logical positivist, since without it the central concept of verification by empirical evidence itself remains distressingly unscientific. The principal developments were due to Rudolf Carnap (1891-1970), culminating in his “Logical Foundations of Probability” (1950). Carnap’s idea was that the measure necessitated would be the proportion of logically possible states of affairs in which the theory and the evidence both hold, compared ti the number in which the evidence itself holds that the probability of a preposition, relative to some evidence, is a proportion of the range of possibilities under which the proposition is true, compared to the total range of possibilities left by the evidence. The difficulty with the theory lies in identifying sets of possibilities so that they admit of measurement. It therefore demands that we can put a measure on the ‘range’ of possibilities consistent with theory and evidence, compared with the range consistent with the evidence alone.
Among the obstacles the enterprise meets, is the fact that while evidence covers only a finite range of data, the hypotheses of science may cover an infinite range. In addition, confirmation proves to vary with the language in which the science is couched, and the Carnapian programme has difficulty in separating genuinely confirming variety of evidence from less compelling repetition of the same experiment. Confirmation also proved to be susceptible to acute paradoxes. Finally, scientific judgement seems to depend on such intangible factors as the problems facing rival theories, and most workers have come to stress instead the historically situated scene of what would appear as a plausible distinction of a scientific knowledge at a given time.
Arose to the paradox of which when a set of apparent incontrovertible premises is given to unacceptable or contradictory conclusions. To solve a paradox will involve showing either that there is a hidden flaw in the premises, or that the reasoning is erroneous, or that the apparently unacceptable conclusion can, in fact, be tolerated. Paradoxes are therefore important in philosophy, for until one is solved it shows that there is something about our reasoning and our concepts that we do not understand. What is more, and somewhat loosely, a paradox is a compelling argument from unacceptable premises to an unacceptable conclusion: More strictly speaking, a paradox is specified to be a sentence that is true if and only if it is false. A characterized objection lesson of it would be: “The displayed sentence is false.”
Seeing that this sentence is false if true is easy, and true if false, a paradox, in either of the senses distinguished, presents an important philosophical challenger. Epistemologists are especially concerned with various paradoxes having to do with knowledge and belief. In other words, for example, the Knower paradox is an argument that begins with apparently impeccable premisses about the concepts of knowledge and inference and derives an explicit contradiction. The origin of the reasoning is the ‘surprise examination paradox’: A teacher announces that there will be a surprise examination next week. A clever student argues that this is impossible. ‘The test cannot be on Friday, the last day of the week, because it would not be a surprise. We would know the day of the test on Thursday evening. This means we can also rule out Thursday. For after we learn that no test has been given by Wednesday, we would know the test is on Thursday or Friday -and would already know that it s not on Friday and would already know that it is not on Friday by the previous reasoning. The remaining days can be eliminated in the same manner’.
This puzzle has over a dozen variants. The first was probably invented by the Swedish mathematician Lennard Ekbon in 1943. Although the first few commentators regarded the reverse elimination argument as cogent, every writer on the subject since 1950 agrees that the argument is unsound. The controversy has been over the proper diagnosis of the flaw.
Initial analyses of the subject’s argument tried to lay the blame on a simple equivocation. Their failure led to more sophisticated diagnoses. The general format has been an assimilation to better-known paradoxes. One tradition casts the surprise examination paradox as a self-referential problem, as fundamentally akin to the Liar, the paradox of the Knower, or Gödel’s incompleteness theorem. That in of itself, says enough that Kaplan and Montague (1960) distilled the following ‘self-referential’ paradox, the Knower. Consider the sentence:
(S) The negation of this sentence is known (to be true).
Suppose that (S) is true. Then its negation is known and hence true. However, if its negation is true, then (S) must be false. Therefore (s) is false, or what is the name, the negation of (S) is true.
This paradox and its accompanying reasoning are strongly reminiscent of the Lair Paradox that (in one version) begins by considering a sentence ‘This sentence is false’ and derives a contradiction. Versions of both arguments using axiomatic formulations of arithmetic and Gödel-numbers to achieve the effect of self-reference yields important meta-theorems about what can be expressed in such systems. Roughly these are to the effect that no predicates definable in the formalized arithmetic can have the properties we demand of truth (Tarski’s Theorem) or of knowledge (Montague, 1963).
These meta-theorems still leave ‘us; with the problem that if we suppose that we add of these formalized languages predicates intended to express the concept of knowledge (or truth) and inference-as one mighty does if a logic of these concepts is desired. Then the sentence expressing the leading principles of the Knower Paradox will be true.
Explicitly, the assumption about knowledge and inferences are:
(1) If sentences ‘A’ are known, then “a.”
(2) (1) is known?
(3) If ‘B’ is correctly inferred from ‘A’, and ‘A’ is known, then ‘B’ id known.
To give an absolutely explicit t derivation of the paradox by applying these principles to (S), we must add (contingent) assumptions to the effect that certain inferences have been done. Still, as we go through the argument of the Knower, these inferences are done. Even if we can somehow restrict such principles and construct a consistent formal logic of knowledge and inference, the paradoxical argument as expressed in the natural language still demands some explanation.
The usual proposals for dealing with the Liar often have their analogues for the Knower, e.g., that there is something wrong with a self-reference or that knowledge (or truth) is properly a predicate of propositions and not of sentences. The relies that show that some of these are not adequate are often parallel to those for the Liar paradox. In addition, one attempt of trying for reasons that seems to be an adequate solution for the Surprise Examination Paradox, namely the observation that ‘new knowledge can drive out knowledge’, but this does not seem to work on the Knower (Anderson, 1983).
There are a number of paradoxes of the Liar family. The simplest example is the sentence ‘This sentence is false’, which must be false if it is true, and true if it is false. One suggestion is that the sentence fails to say anything, but sentences that fail to say anything are at least not true. In fact case, we consider to sentences ‘This sentence is not true’, which, if it fails to say anything is not true, and hence (this kind of reasoning is sometimes called the strengthened Liar). Other versions of the Liar introduce pairs of sentences, as in a slogan on the front of a T-shirt saying ‘This sentence on the back of this T-shirt is false’, and one on the back saying ‘The sentence on the front of this T-shirt is true’. It is clear that each sentence individually is well formed, and were it not for the other, might have said something true. So any attempt to dismiss the paradox by sating that the sentence involved are meaningless will face problems.
Even so, the two approaches that have some hope of adequately dealing with this paradox is ‘hierarchy’ solutions and ‘truth-value gap’ solutions. According to the first, knowledge is structured into ‘levels’. It is argued that there be bo one-coherent notion expressed by the verb; knows’, but rather a whole series of notion of being knowable and wherefore knows, and so on (perhaps into transfinite), stated ion terms of predicate expressing such ‘ramified’ concepts and properly restricted, (1)-(3) lead to no contradictions. The main objections to this procedure are that the meaning of these levels has not been adequately explained and that the idea of such subscripts, even implicit, in a natural language is highly counterintuitive the ‘truth-value gap’ solution takes sentences such as (S) to lack truth-value. They are neither true nor false, but they do not express propositions. This defeats a crucial step in the reasoning used in the derivation of the paradoxes. Kripler (1986) has developed this approach in connection with the Liar and Asher and Kamp (1986) has worked out some details of a parallel solution to the Knower. The principal objection is that ‘strengthened’ or ‘super’ versions of the paradoxes tend to reappear when the solution itself is stated.
Since the paradoxical deduction uses only the properties (1)-(3) and since the argument is formally valid, any notion that satisfy these conditions will lead to a paradox. Thus, Grim (1988) notes that this may be read as ‘is known by an omniscient God’ and concludes that there is no coherent single notion of omniscience. Thomason (1980) observes that with some different conditions, analogous reasoning about belief can lead to paradoxical consequence.
Overall, it looks as if we should conclude that knowledge and truth are ultimately intrinsically ‘stratified’ concepts. It would seem that wee must simply accept the fact that these (and similar) concepts cannot be assigned of any-one fixed, finite or infinite. Still, the meaning of this idea certainly needs further clarification.
Its paradox arises when a set of apparently incontrovertible premises gives unacceptable or contradictory conclusions, to solve a paradox will involve showing either that there is a hidden flaw in the premises, or that the reasoning is erroneous, or that the apparently unacceptable conclusion can, in fact, be tolerated. Paradoxes are therefore important in philosophy, for until one is solved its shows that there is something about our reasoning and of concepts that we do not understand. Famous families of paradoxes include the ‘semantic paradoxes’ and ‘Zeno’s paradoxes. Art the beginning of the 20th century, paradox and other set-theoretical paradoxes led to the complete overhaul of the foundations of set theory, while the ’Sorites paradox’ has lead to the investigations of the semantics of vagueness and fuzzy logics.
It is, however, to what extent can analysis be informative? This is the question that gives a riser to what philosophers has traditionally called ‘the’ paradox of analysis. Thus, consider the following proposition:
(1) To be an instance of knowledge is to be an instance of justified true belief not essentially grounded in any falsehood.
(1) if true, illustrates an important type of philosophical analysis. For convenience of exposition, I will assume (1) is a correct analysis. The paradox arises from the fact that if the concept of justified true belief not been essentially grounded in any falsification is the analysand of the concept of knowledge, it would seem that they are the same concept and hence that:
(2) To be an instance of knowledge is to be as an instance of.
knowledge and would have to be the same propositions as (1). But then how can (1) be informative when (2) is not? This is what is called the first paradox of analysis. Classical writings’ on analysis suggests a second paradoxical analysis (Moore, 1942).
(3) An analysis of the concept of being a brother is that to be a
brother is to be a male sibling. If (3) is true, it would seem that the concept of being a brother would have to be the same concept as the concept of being a male sibling and tat:
(4) An analysis of the concept of being a brother is that to be a brother is to be a brother
would also have to be true and in fact, would have to be the same proposition as (3?). Yet (3) is true and (4) is false.
Both these paradoxes rest upon the assumptions that analysis is a relation between concepts, than one involving entity of other sorts, such as linguistic expressions, and tat in a true analysis, analysand and analysandum are the same concept. Both these assumptions are explicit in Moore, but some of Moore’s remarks hint at a solution to that of another statement of an analysis is a statement partly about the concept involved and partly about the verbal expressions used to express it. He says he thinks a solution of this sort is bound to be right, but fails to suggest one because he cannot see a way in which the analysis can be even partly about the expression (Moore, 1942).
Elsewhere, of such ways, as a solution to the second paradox, to which is explicating (3) as:
(5) An analysis is given by saying that the verbal expression ‘χ is a brother’ expresses the same concept as is expressed by the conjunction of the verbal expressions ‘χ is male’ when used to express the concept of being male and ‘χ is a sibling’ when used to express the concept of being a sibling. (Ackerman, 1990).
An important point about (5) is as follows. Stripped of its philosophical jargon (‘analysis’, ‘concept’, ‘χ is a . . . ‘), (5) seems to state the sort of information generally stated in a definition of the verbal expression ‘brother’ in terms of the verbal expressions ‘male’ and ‘sibling’, where this definition is designed to draw upon listeners’ antecedent understanding of the verbal expression ‘male’ and ‘sibling’, and thus, to tell listeners what the verbal expression ‘brother’ really means, instead of merely providing the information that two verbal expressions are synonymous without specifying the meaning of either one. Thus, its solution to the second paradox seems to make the sort of analysis tat gives rise to this paradox matter of specifying the meaning of a verbal expression in terms of separate verbal expressions already understood and saying how the meanings of these separate, already-understood verbal expressions are combined. This corresponds to Moore’s intuitive requirement that an analysis should both specify the constituent concepts of the analysandum and tell how they are combined, but is this all there is to philosophical analysis?
To answer this question, we must note that, in addition too there being two paradoxes of analysis, there is two types of analyses that are relevant here. (There are also other types of analysis, such as reformatory analysis, where the analysand are intended to improve on and replace the analysandum. But since reformatory analysis involves no commitment to conceptual identity between analysand and analysandum, reformatory analysis does not generate a paradox of analysis and so will not concern ‘us’ here.) One way to recognize the difference between the two types of analysis concerning ‘us’ here is to focus on the difference between the two paradoxes. This can be done by means of the Frége-inspired sense-individuation condition, which is the condition that two expressions have the same sense if and only if they can be interchangeably ‘salva veritate’ whenever used in propositional attitude context. If the expressions for the analysands and the analysandum in (1) met this condition, (1) and (2) would not raise the first paradox, but the second paradox arises regardless of whether the expression for the analysand and the analysandum meet this condition. The second paradox is a matter of the failure of such expressions to be interchangeable salva veritate in sentences involving such contexts as ‘an analysis is given thereof. Thus, a solution (such as the one offered) that is aimed only at such contexts can solve the second paradox. This is clearly false for the first paradox, however, which will apply to all pairs of propositions expressed by sentences in which expressions for pairs of analysands and analysantia raising the first paradox is interchangeable. For example, consider the following proposition:
(6) Mary knows that some cats tail.
It is possible for John to believe (6) without believing:
(7) Mary has justified true belief, not essentially grounded in any falsehood, that some cats lack tails.
Yet this possibility clearly does not mean that the proposition that Mary knows that some casts lack tails is partly about language.
One approach to the first paradox is to argue that, despite the apparent epistemic inequivalence of (1) and (2), the concept of justified true belief not essentially grounded in any falsehood is still identical with the concept of knowledge (Sosa, 1983). Another approach is to argue that in the sort of analysis raising the first paradox, the analysand and analysandum is concepts that are different but that bear a special epistemic relation to each other. Elsewhere, the development is such an approach and suggestion that this analysand-analysandum relation has the following facets.
(a) The analysand and analysandum are necessarily coextensive, i.e., necessarily every instance of one is an instance of the other.
(b) The analysand and analysandum are knowable theoretical to be coextensive.
© The analysandum is simpler than the analysands a condition whose necessity is recognized in classical writings on analysis, such as, Langford, 1942.
(d) The analysand do not have the analysandum as a constituent.
Condition (d) rules out circularity. But since many valuable quasi-analyses are partly circular, e.g., knowledge is justified true belief supported by known reasons not essentially grounded in any falsehood, it seems best to distinguish between full analysis, from that of (d) is a necessary condition, and partial analysis, for which it is not.
These conditions, while necessary, are clearly insufficient. The basic problem is that they apply too many pairs of concepts that do not seem closely enough related epistemologically to count as analysand and analysandum. , such as the concept of being 6 and the concept of the fourth root of 1296. Accordingly, its solution upon what actually seems epistemologically distinctive about analyses of the sort under consideration, which is a certain way they can be justified. This is by the philosophical example-and-counterexample method, which is in a general term that goes as follows. ‘J’ investigates the analysis of K’s concept ‘Q’ (where ‘K’ can but need not be identical to ‘J’ by setting ‘K’ a series of armchair thought experiments, i.e., presenting ‘K’ with a series of simple described hypothetical test cases and asking ‘K’ questions of the form ‘If such-and-such where the case would this count as a case of Q? ‘J’ then contrasts the descriptions of the cases to which; K’ answers affirmatively with the description of the cases to which ‘K’ does not, and ‘J’ generalizes upon these descriptions to arrive at the concepts (if possible not including the analysandum) and their mode of combination that constitute the analysand of K’‘s concept ‘Q’. Since ‘J’ need not be identical with ‘K’, there is no requirement that ‘K’ himself be able to perform this generalization, to recognize its result as correct, or even to understand he analysand that is its result. This is reminiscent of Walton’s observation that one can simply recognize a bird as a swallow without realizing just what feature of the bird (beak, wing configurations, etc.) form the basis of this recognition. (The philosophical significance of this way of recognizing is discussed in Walton, 1972) ‘K’ answers the questions based solely on whether the described hypothetical cases just strike him as cases of ‘Q’. ‘J’ observes certain strictures in formulating the cases and questions. He makes the cases as simple as possible, to minimize the possibility of confusion and to minimize the likelihood that ‘K’ will draw upon his philosophical theories (or quasi-philosophical, a rudimentary notion if he is unsophisticated philosophically) in answering the questions. For this conflicting result, the conflict should ‘other things being equal’ be resolved in favour of the simpler case. ‘J’ makes the series of described cases wide-ranging and varied, with the aim of having it be a complete series, where a series is complete if and only if no case that is omitted in such that, if included, it would change the analysis arrived at. ‘J’ does not, of course, use as a test-case description anything complicated and general enough to express the analysand. There is no requirement that the described hypothetical test cases be formulated only in terms of what can be observed. Moreover, using described hypothetical situations as test cases enables ‘J’ to frame the questions in such a way as to rule out extraneous background assumption to a degree, thus, even if ‘K’ correctly believes that all and only P’s are R’s, the question of whether the concepts of P, R, or both enter the analysand of his concept ‘Q’ can be investigated by asking him such questions as ‘Suppose (even if it seems preposterous to you) that you were to find out that there was a ‘P’ that was not an ‘R’. Would you still consider it a case of Q?
Taking all this into account, the fifth necessary condition for this sort of analysand-analysandum relations is as follows:
(e) If ‘S’ is the analysand of ‘Q’, the proposition that necessarily all and only instances of ‘S’ are instances of ‘Q’ can be justified by generalizing from intuition about the correct answers to questions of the sort indicated about a varied and wide-ranging series of simple described hypothetical situations. It so does occur of antinomy, when we are able to argue for, or demonstrate, both a proposition and its contradiction, roughly speaking, a contradiction of a proposition ‘p’ is one that can be expressed in form ‘not-p’, or, if ‘p’ can be expressed in the form ‘not-q’, then a contradiction is one that can be expressed in the form ‘q’. Thus, e.g., if ‘p is 2 + 1 = 4, then 2 + 1 ≠ 4 is the contradictory of ‘p’, for 2 + 1 ≠ 4 can be expressed in the form not (2 + 1 = 4). If ‘p’ is 2 + 1 ≠ 4, then 2 + 1-4 is a contradictory of ‘p’, since 2 + 1 ≠ 4 can be expressed in the form not (2 + 1 = 4). This is, mutually, but contradictory propositions can be expressed in the form, ‘r’, ‘not-r’. The Principle of Contradiction says that mutually contradictory propositions cannot both be true and cannot both be false. Thus, by this principle, since if ‘p’ is true, ‘not-p’ is false, no proposition ‘p’ can be at once true and false (otherwise both ‘p’ and its contradictories would be false?). In particular, for any predicate ‘p’ and object ‘χ’, it cannot be that ‘p’; is at once true of ‘χ’ and false of χ? This is the classical formulation of the principle of contradiction, but it is nonetheless, that wherein, we cannot now fault either demonstrates. We would eventually hope to be able ‘to solve the antinomy’ by managing, through careful thinking and analysis, eventually to fault either or both demonstrations.
Many paradoxes are as an easy source of antinomies, for example, Zeno gave some famously lets say, logical-cum-mathematical arguments that might be interpreted as demonstrating that motion is impossible. But our eyes as it was, demonstrate motion (exhibit moving things) all the time. Where did Zeno go wrong? Where do our eyes go wrong? If we cannot readily answer at least one of these questions, then we are in antinomy. In the “Critique of Pure Reason,” Kant gave demonstrations of the same kind -in the Zeno example they were obviously not the same kind of both, e.g., that the world has a beginning in time and space, and that the world has no beginning in time or space. He argues that both demonstrations are at fault because they proceed on the basis of ‘pure reason’ unconditioned by sense experience.
At this point, we display attributes to the theory of experience, as it is not possible to define in an illuminating way, however, we know what experiences are through acquaintances with some of our own, e.g., visual experiences of as afterimage, a feeling of physical nausea or a tactile experience of an abrasive surface (which might be caused by an actual surface -rough or smooth, or which might be part of a dream, or the product of a vivid sensory imagination). The essential feature of experience is it feels a certain way -that there is something that it is like to have it. We may refer to this feature of an experience as its ‘character’.
Another core feature of the sorts of experiences with which this may be of a concern, is that they have representational ‘content’. (Unless otherwise indicated, ‘experience’ will be reserved for their ‘contentual representations’.) The most obvious cases of experiences with content are sense experiences of the kind normally involved in perception. We may describe such experiences by mentioning their sensory modalities ad their contents, e.g., a gustatory experience (modality) of chocolate ice cream (content), but do so more commonly by means of perceptual verbs combined with noun phrases specifying their contents, as in ‘Macbeth saw a dagger’. This is, however, ambiguous between the perceptual claim ‘There was a (material) dagger in the world that Macbeth perceived visually’ and ‘Macbeth had a visual experience of a dagger’ (the reading with which we are concerned, as it is afforded by our imagination, or perhaps, experiencing mentally hallucinogenic imagery).
As in the case of other mental states and events with content, it is important to distinguish between the properties that and experience ‘represents’ and the properties that it ‘possesses’. To talk of the representational properties of an experience is to say something about its content, not to attribute those properties to the experience itself. Like every other experience, a visual; experience of a non-shaped square, of which is a mental event, and it is therefore not itself either irregular or is it square, even though it represents those properties. It is, perhaps, fleeting, pleasant or unusual, even though it does not represent those properties. An experience may represent a property that it possesses, and it may even do so in virtue of a rapidly changing (complex) experience representing something as changing rapidly. However, this is the exception and not the rule.
Which properties can be [directly] represented in sense experience is subject to debate. Traditionalists include only properties whose presence could not be doubted by a subject having appropriate experiences, e.g., colour and shape in the case of visual experience, and apparent shape, surface texture, hardness, etc., in the case of tactile experience. This view is natural to anyone who has an egocentric, Cartesian perspective in epistemology, and who wishes for pure data in experiences to serve as logically certain foundations for knowledge, especially to the immediate objects of perceptual awareness in or of sense-data, such categorized of colour patches and shapes, which are usually supposed distinct from surfaces of physical objectivity. Qualities of sense-data are supposed to be distinct from physical qualities because their perception is more relative to conditions, more certain, and more immediate, and because sense-data is private and cannot appear other than they are they are objects that change in our perceptual field when conditions of perception change. Physical objects remain constant.
Others who do not think that this wish can be satisfied, and who are more impressed with the role of experience in providing animisms with ecologically significant information about the world around them, claim that sense experiences represent properties, characteristic and kinds that are much richer and much more wide-ranging than the traditional sensory qualities. We do not see only colours and shapes, they tell ‘us’, but also earth, water, men, women and fire: We do not smell only odours, but also food and filth. There is no space here to examine the factors relevantly responsible to their choice of situational alternatives. Yet, this suggests that character and content are not really distinct, and there is a close tie between them. For one thing, the relative complexity of the character of sense experience places limitations upon its possible content, e.g., a tactile experience of something touching one’s left ear is just too simple to carry the same amount of content as typically convincing to an every day, visual experience. Moreover, the content of a sense experience of a given character depends on the normal causes of appropriately similar experiences, e.g., the sort of gustatory experience that we have when eating chocolate would be not represented as chocolate unless it was normally caused by chocolate. Granting a contingent ties between the character of an experience and its possible causal origins, once, again follows that its possible content is limited by its character.
Character and content are none the less irreducibly different, for the following reasons. (a) There are experiences that completely lack content, e.g., certain bodily pleasures. (b) Not every aspect of the character of an experience with content is relevant to that content, e.g., the unpleasantness of an aural experience of chalk squeaking on a board may have no representational significance. © Experiences in different modalities may overlap in content without a parallel overlap in character, e.g., visual and tactile experiences of circularity feel completely different. (d) The content of an experience with a given character may vary according to the background of the subject, e.g., a certain content ‘singing bird’ only after the subject has learned something about birds.
According to the act/object analysis of experience (which is a special case of the act/object analysis of consciousness), every experience involves an object of experience even if it has no material object. Two main lines of argument may be offered in support of this view, one ‘phenomenological’ and the other ‘semantic’.
In an outline, the phenomenological argument is as follows. Whenever we have an experience, even if nothing beyond the experience answers to it, we seem to be presented with something through the experience (which is itself diaphanous). The object of the experience is whatever is so presented to ‘us’-is that it is an individual thing, an event, or a state of affairs.
The semantic argument is that objects of experience are required in order to make sense of certain features of our talk about experience, including, in particular, the following. (I) Simple attributions of experience, e.g., ‘Rod is experiencing an oddity that is not really square but in appearance it seems more than likely a square’, this seems to be relational. (ii) We appear to refer to objects of experience and to attribute properties to them, e.g., ‘The after-image that John experienced was certainly odd’. (iii) We appear to quantify ov er objects of experience, e.g., ‘Macbeth saw something that his wife did not see’.
The act/object analysis faces several problems concerning the status of objects of experiences. Currently the most common view is that they are sense-data -private mental entities that actually posses the traditional sensory qualities represented by the experiences of which they are the objects. But the very idea of an essentially private entity is suspect. Moreover, since an experience may apparently represent something as having a determinable property, e.g., redness, without representing it as having any subordinate determinate property, e.g., any specific shade of red, a sense-datum may actually have a determinate property subordinate to it. Even more disturbing is that sense-data may have contradictory properties, since experiences can have contradictory contents. A case in point is the waterfall illusion: If you stare at a waterfall for a minute and then immediately fixate on a nearby rock, you are likely to have an experience of the rock’s moving upward while it remains in the same place. The sense-data theorist must either deny that there are such experiences or admit contradictory objects.
These problems can be avoided by treating objects of experience as properties. This, however, fails to do justice to the appearances, for experience seems not to present ‘us’ with properties embodied in individuals. The view that objects of experience is Meinongian objects accommodate this point. It is also attractive in as far as (1) it allows experiences to represent properties other than traditional sensory qualities, and (2) it allows for the identification of objects of experience and objects of perception in the case of experiences that constitute perception.
According to the act/object analysis of experience, every experience with content involves an object of experience to which the subject is related by an act of awareness (the event of experiencing that object). This is meant to apply not only to perceptions, which have material objects (whatever is perceived), but also to experiences like hallucinations and dream experiences, which do not. Such experiences none the less appear to represent something, and their objects are supposed to be whatever it is that they represent. Act/object theorists may differ on the nature of objects of experience, which have been treated as properties. Meinongian objects (which may not exist or have any form of being), and, more commonly private mental entities with sensory qualities. (The term ‘sense-data’ is now usually applied to the latter, but has also been used as a general term for objects of sense experiences, as in the work of G. E. Moore) Act/object theorists may also differ on the relationship between objects of experience and objects of perception. In terms of perception (of which we are ‘indirectly aware’) are always distinct from objects of experience (of which we are ‘directly aware’). Meinongian, however, may treat objects of perception as existing objects of experience. But sense-datum theorists must either deny that there are such experiences or admit contradictory objects. Still, most philosophers will feel that the Meinongian’s acceptance of impossible objects is too high a price to pay for these benefits.
A general problem for the act/object analysis is that the question of whether two subjects are experiencing one and the same thing (as opposed to having exactly similar experiences) appears to have an answer only on the assumption that the experiences concerned are perceptions with material objects. But in terms of the act/object analysis the question must have an answer even when this condition is not satisfied. (The answer is always negative on the sense-datum theory; it could be positive on other versions of the act/object analysis, depending on the facts of the case.)
In view of the above problems, the case for the act/object analysis should be reassessed. The phenomenological argument is not, on reflection, convincing, for it is easy enough to grant that any experience appears to present ‘us’ with an object without accepting that it actually does. The semantic argument is more impressive, but is none the less answerable. The seemingly relational structure of attributions of experience is a challenge dealt with below in connection with the adverbial theory. Apparent reference to and quantification over objects of experience can be handled by analysing them as reference to experiences themselves and quantification over experiences tacitly typed according to content. Thus, ‘The after-image that John experienced was colourfully appealing’ becomes ‘John’s after-image experience was an experience of colour’, and ‘Macbeth saw something that his wife did not see’ becomes ‘Macbeth had a visual experience that his wife did not have’.
Pure cognitivism attempts to avoid the problems facing the act/object analysis by reducing experiences to cognitive events or associated disposition, e.g., Susy’s experience of a rough surface beneath her hand might be identified with the event of her acquiring the belief that there is a rough surface beneath her hand, or, if she does not acquire this belief, with a disposition to acquire it that has somehow been blocked.
This position has attractions. It does full justice to the cognitive contents of experience, and to the important role of experience as a source of belief acquisition. It would also help clear the way for a naturalistic theory of mind, since there seems to be some prospect of a physicalist/functionalist account of belief and other intentional states. But pure cognitivism is completely undermined by its failure to accommodate the fact that experiences have a felt character that cannot be reduced to their content, as aforementioned.
The adverbial theory is an attempt to undermine the act/object analysis by suggesting a semantic account of attributions of experience that does not require objects of experience. Unfortunately, the oddities of explicit adverbializations of such statements have driven off potential supporters of the theory. Furthermore, the theory remains largely undeveloped, and attempted refutations have traded on this. It may, however, be founded on sound basis intuitions, and there is reason to believe that an effective development of the theory (which is merely hinting at) is possible.
The relevant intuitions are (1) that when we say that someone is experiencing ‘an A’, or has an experience ‘of an A’, we are using this content-expression to specify the type of thing that the experience is especially apt to fit, (2) that doing this is a matter of saying something about the experience itself (and maybe about the normal causes of like experiences), and (3) that it is no-good of reasons to posit of its position to presuppose that of any involvements, is that its descriptions of an object in which the experience is. Thus the effective role of the content-expression in a statement of experience is to modify the verb it compliments, not to introduce a special type of object.
Perhaps, the most important criticism of the adverbial theory is the ‘many property problem’, according to which the theory does not have the resources to distinguish between, e.g.,
(1) Frank has an experience of a brown triangle
and:
(2) Frank has an experience of brown and an experience of a triangle.
Which is entailed by (1) but does not entail it. The act/object analysis can easily accommodate the difference between (1) and (2) by claiming that the truth of (1) requires a single object of experience that is both brown and triangular, while that of the (2) allows for the possibility of two objects of experience, one brown and the other triangular, however, (1) is equivalent to:
(1*) Frank has an experience of something’s being both brown and triangular.
And (2) is equivalent to:
(2*) Frank has an experience of something’s being brown and an experience of something’s being triangular,
and the difference between these can be explained quite simply in terms of logical scope without invoking objects of experience. The Adverbialists may use this to answer the many-property problem by arguing that the phrase ‘a brown triangle’ in (1) does the same work as the clause ‘something’s being both brown and triangular’ in (1*). This is perfectly compatible with the view that it also has the ‘adverbial’ function of modifying the verb ‘has an experience of’, for it specifies the experience more narrowly just by giving a necessary condition for the satisfaction of the experience (the condition being that there are something both brown and triangular before Frank).
A final position that should be mentioned is the state theory, according to which a sense experience of an ‘A’ is an occurrent, non-relational state of the kind that the subject would be in when perceiving an ‘A’. Suitably qualified, this claim is no doubt true, but its significance is subject to debate. Here it is enough to remark that the claim is compatible with both pure cognitivism and the adverbial theory, and that state theorists are probably best advised to adopt adverbials as a means of developing their intuitions.
Yet, clarifying sense-data, if taken literally, is that which is given by the senses. But in response to the question of what exactly is so given, sense-data theories posit private showings in the consciousness of the subject. In the case of vision this would be a kind of inner picture show which itself only indirectly represents aspects of the external world that has in and of itself a worldly representation. The view has been widely rejected as implying that we really only see extremely thin coloured pictures interposed between our mind’s eye and reality. Modern approaches to perception tend to reject any conception of the eye as a camera or lense, simply responsible for producing private images, and stress the active life of the subject in and of the world, as the determinant of experience.
Nevertheless, the argument from illusion is of itself the usually intended directive to establish that certain familiar facts about illusion disprove the theory of perception called naïevity or direct realism. There are, however, many different versions of the argument that must be distinguished carefully. Some of these distinctions centre on the content of the premises (the nature of the appeal to illusion); others centre on the interpretation of the conclusion (the kind of direct realism under attack). Let ‘us’ set about by distinguishing the importantly different versions of direct realism which one might take to be vulnerable to familiar facts about the possibility of perceptual illusion.
A crude statement of direct realism might go as follows. In perception, we sometimes directly perceive physical objects and their properties, we do not always perceive physical objects by perceiving something ‘else’, e.g., a sense-datum. There are, however, difficulties with this formulation of the view, as for one thing a great many philosophers who are ‘not’ direct realists would admit that it is a mistake to describe people as actually ‘perceiving’ something other than a physical object. In particular, such philosophers might admit, we should never say that we perceive sense-data. To talk that way would be to suppose that we should model our understanding of our relationship to sense-data on our understanding of the ordinary use of perceptual verbs as they describe our relation to and of the physical world, and that is the last thing paradigm sense-datum theorists should want. At least, many of the philosophers who objected to direct realism would prefer to express in what they were of objecting too in terms of a technical (and philosophically controversial) concept such as ‘acquaintance’. Using such a notion, we could define direct realism this way: In ‘veridical’ experience we are directly acquainted with parts, e.g., surfaces, or constituents of physical objects. A less cautious verison of the view might drop the reference to veridical experience and claim simply that in all experience we are directly acquainted with parts or constituents of physical objects. The expressions ‘knowledge by acquaintance’ and ‘knowledge by description’, and the distinction they mark between knowing ‘things’ and knowing ‘about’ things, are generally associated with Bertrand Russell (1872-1970), that scientific philosophy required analysing many objects of belief as ‘logical constructions’ or ‘logical fictions’, and the programme of analysis that this inaugurated dominated the subsequent philosophy of logical atomism, and then of other philosophers, Russell’s “The Analysis of Mind,” the mind itself is treated in a fashion reminiscent of Hume, as no more than the collection of neutral perceptions or sense-data that make up the flux of conscious experience, and that looked at another way that also was to make up the external world (neutral monism), but “An Inquiry into Meaning and Truth” (1940) represents a more empirical approach to the problem. Yet, philosophers have perennially investigated this and related distinctions using varying terminology.
Distinction in our ways of knowing things, highlighted by Russell and forming a central element in his philosophy after the discovery of the theory of ‘definite descriptions’. A thing is known by acquaintance when there is direct experience of it. It is known by description if it can only be described as a thing with such-and-such properties. In everyday parlance, I might know my spouse and children by acquaintance, but know someone as ‘the first person born at sea’ only by description. However, for a variety of reasons Russell shrinks the area of things that can be known by acquaintance until eventually only current experience, perhaps my own self, and certain universals or meanings qualify anything else is known only as the thing that has such-and-such qualities.
Because one can interpret the relation of acquaintance or awareness as one that is not ‘epistemic’, i.e., not a kind of propositional knowledge, it is important to distinguish the above aforementioned views read as ontological theses from a view one might call ‘epistemological direct realism? In perception we are, on at least some occasions, non-inferentially justified in believing a proposition asserting the existence of a physical object. Since it is that these objects exist independently of any mind that might perceive them, and so it thereby rules out all forms of idealism and phenomenalism, which hold that there are no such independently existing objects. Its being to ‘direct’ realism rules out those views defended under the cubic of ‘critical naive realism’, or ‘representational realism’, in which there is some non-physical intermediary -usually called a ‘sense-datum’ or a ‘sense impression’ -that must first be perceived or experienced in order to perceive the object that exists independently of this perception. Often the distinction between direct realism and other theories of perception is explained more fully in terms of what is ‘immediately’ perceived, than ‘mediately’ perceived. What relevance does illusion have for these two forms of direct realism?
The fundamental premise of the arguments is from illusion seems to be the theses that things can appear to be other than they are. Thus, for example, straight sticks when immerged in water looks bent, a penny when viewed from certain perspective appears as an illusory spatial elliptic circularity, when something that is yellow when place under red fluorescent light looks red. In all of these cases, one version of the argument goes, it is implausible to maintain that what we are directly acquainted with is the real nature of the object in question. Indeed, it is hard to see how we can be said to be aware of the really physical object at all. In the above illusions the things we were aware of actually were bent, elliptical and red, respectively. But, by hypothesis, the really physical objects lacked these properties. Thus, we were not aware of the substantial reality of been real as a physical objects or theory.
So far, if the argument is relevant to any of the direct realisms distinguished above, it seems relevant only to the claim that in all sense experience we are directly acquainted with parts or constituents of physical objects. After all, even if in illusion we are not acquainted with physical objects, but their surfaces, or their constituents, why should we conclude anything about the hidden nature of our relations to the physical world in veridical experience?
We are supposed to discover the answer to this question by noticing the similarities between illusory experience and veridical experience and by reflecting on what makes illusion possible at all. Illusion can occur because the nature of the illusory experience is determined, not just by the nature of the object perceived, but also by other conditions, both external and internal as becoming of an inner or as the outer experience. But all of our sensations are subject to these causal influences and it would be gratuitous and arbitrary to select from indefinitely of many and subtly different perceptual experiences some special ones those that get ‘us’ in touch with the ‘real’ nature of the physical world and its surrounding surfaces. Red fluorescent light affects the way thing’s look, but so does sunlight. Water reflects light, but so does air. We have no unmediated access to the external world.
Still, why should we consider that we are aware of something other than a physical object in experience? Why should we not conclude that to be aware of a physical object is just to be appeared to by that object in a certain way? In its best-known form the adverbial theory of something proposes that the grammatical object of a statement attributing an experience to someone be analysed as an adverb. For example,
(A) Rod is experiencing a coloured square.
Is rewritten as?
Rod is experiencing, (coloured square)-ly
This is presented as an alternative to the act/object analysis, according to which the truth of a statement like (A) requires the existence of an object of experience corresponding to its grammatical object. A commitment to t he explicit adverbializations of statements of experience is not, however, essential to adverbialism. The core of the theory consists, rather, in the denial of objects of experience (as opposed ti objects of perception) coupled with the view that the role of the grammatical object in a statement of experience is to characterize more fully te sort of experience that is being attributed to the subject. The claim, then, is that the grammatical object is functioning as a modifier and, in particular, as a modifier of a verb. If it as a special kind of adverb at the semantic level.
At this point, it might be profitable to move from considering the possibility of illusion to considering the possibility of hallucination. Instead of comparing paradigmatic veridical perception with illusion, let ‘us’ compare it with complete hallucination. For any experiences or sequence of experiences we take to be veridical, we can imagine qualitatively indistinguishable experiences occurring as part of a hallucination. For those who like their philosophical arguments spiced with a touch of science, we can imagine that our brains were surreptitiously removed in the night, and unbeknown to ‘us’ are being stimulated by a neurophysiologist so as to produce the very sensations that we would normally associate with a trip to the Grand Canyon. Currently permit ‘us’ into appealing of what we are aware of in this complete hallucination that is obvious that we are not awaken to the sparking awareness of physical objects, their surfaces, or their constituents. Nor can we even construe the experience as one of an object’s appearing to ‘us’ in a certain way. It is after all a complete hallucination and the objects we take to exist before ‘us’ are simply not there. But if we compare hallucinatory experience with the qualitatively indistinguishable veridical experiences, should we most conclude that it would be ‘special’ to suppose that in veridical experience we are aware of something radically different from what we are aware of in hallucinatory experience? Again, it might help to reflect on our belief that the immediate cause of hallucinatory experience and veridical experience might be the very same brain event, and it is surely implausible to suppose that the effects of this same cause are radically different -acquaintance with physical objects in the case of veridical experience: Something else in the case of hallucinatory experience.
This version of the argument from hallucination would seem to address straightforwardly the ontological versions of direct realism. The argument is supposed to convince ‘us’ that the ontological analysis of sensation in both veridical and hallucinatory experience should give ‘us’ the same results, but in the hallucinatory case there is no plausible physical object, constituent of a physical object, or surface of a physical object with which additional premiss we would also get an argument against epistemological direct realism. That premiss is that in a vivid hallucinatory experience we might have precisely the same justification for believing (falsely) what we do about the physical world as we do in the analogous, phenomenological indistinguishable, veridical experience. But our justification for believing that there is a table before ‘us’ in the course of a vivid hallucination of a table are surely not non-inferential in character. It certainly is not, if non-inferential justifications are supposedly a consist but yet an unproblematic access to the fact that makes true our belief -by hypothesis the table does not exist. But if the justification that hallucinatory experiences give ‘us’ the same as the justification we get from the parallel veridical experience, then we should not describe a veridical experience as giving ‘us non-inferential justification for believing in the existence of physical objects. In both cases we should say that we believe what we do about the physical world on the basis of what we know directly about the character of our experience.
In this brief space, I can only sketch some of the objections that might be raised against arguments from illusion and hallucination. That being said, let us begin with a criticism that accepts most of the presuppositions of the arguments. Even if the possibility of hallucination establishes that in some experience we are not acquainted with constituents of physical objects, it is not clear that it establishes that we are never acquainted with a constituent of physical objects. Suppose, for example, that we decide that in both veridical and hallucinatory experience we are acquainted with sense-data. At least some philosophers have tried to identify physical objects with ‘bundles’ of actual and possible sense-data.
To establish inductively that sensations are signs of physical objects one would have to observe a correlation between the occurrence of certain sensations and the existence of certain physical objects. But to observe such a correlation in order to establish a connection, one would need independent access to physical objects and, by hypothesis, this one cannot have. If one further adopts the verificationist’s stance that the ability to comprehend is parasitic on the ability to confirm, one can easily be driven to Hume’s conclusion:
Let us chance our imagination to the heavens, or to the utmost limits of the universe, we never really advance a step beyond ourselves, nor can conceivable any kind of existence, but those perceptions, which have appear̀d in that narrow compass. This is the universe of the imagination, nor have we have any idea but what is there Reduced. (Hume, 1739-40, pp. 67-8).
If one reaches such a conclusion but wants to maintain the intelligibility and verifiability of the assertion about the physical world, one can go either the idealistic or the phenomenalistic route.
However, hallucinatory experiences on this view is non-veridical precisely because the sense-data one is acquainted with in hallucination do not bear the appropriate relations to other actual and possible sense-data. But if such a view were plausible one could agree that one is acquainted with the same kind of a thing in veridical and non-veridical experience but insists that there is still a sense in which in veridical experience one is acquainted with constituents of a physical object?
A different sort of objection to the argument from illusion or hallucination concerns its use in drawing conclusions we have not stressed in the above discourses. I, have in mentioning this objection, may to underscore an important feature of the argument. At least some philosophers (Hume, for example) have stressed the rejection of direct realism on the road to an argument for general scepticism with respect to the physical world. Once one abandons epistemological; direct realisms, one has an uphill battle indicating how one can legitimately make the inferences from sensation to physical objects. But philosophers who appeal to the existence of illusion and hallucination to develop an argument for scepticism can be accused of having an epistemically self-defeating argument. One could justifiably infer sceptical conclusions from the existence of illusion and hallucination only if one justifiably believed that such experiences exist, but if one is justified in believing that illusion exists, one must be justified in believing at least, some facts about the physical world (for example, that straight sticks look bent in water). The key point to stress in relying to such arguments is, that strictly speaking, the philosophers in question need only appeal to the ‘possibility’ of a vivid illusion and hallucination. Although it would have been psychologically more difficult to come up with arguments from illusion and hallucination if we did not believe that we actually had such experiences, I take it that most philosophers would argue that the possibility of such experiences is enough to establish difficulties with direct realism. Indeed, if one looks carefully at the argument from hallucination discussed earlier, one sees that it nowhere makes any claims about actual cases of hallucinatory experience.
Another reply to the attack on epistemological direct realism focuses on the implausibility of claiming that there is any process of ‘inference’ wrapped up in our beliefs about the world and its surrounding surfaces. Even if it is possible to give a phenomenological description of the subjective character of sensation, it requires a special sort of skill that most people lack. Our perceptual beliefs about the physical world are surely direct, at least in the sense that they are unmediated by any sort of conscious inference from premisses describing something other than a physical object. The appropriate reply to this objection, however, is simply to acknowledge the relevant phenomenological fact and point out that from the perceptive of epistemologically direct realism, the philosopher is attacking a claim about the nature of our justification for believing propositions about the physical world. Such philosophers need carry out of any comment at all about the causal genesis of such beliefs.
As mentioned that proponents of the argument from illusion and hallucination have often intended it to establish the existence of sense-data, and many philosophers have attacked the so-called sense-datum inference presupposed in some statements of the argument. When the stick looked bent, the penny looked elliptical and the yellow object looked red, the sense-datum theorist wanted to infer that there was something bent, elliptical and red, respectively. But such an inference is surely suspect. Usually, we do not infer that because something appears to have a certain property, that affairs that affecting something that has that property. When in saying that Jones looks like a doctor, I surely would not want anyone to infer that there must actually be someone there who is a doctor. In assessing this objection, it will be important to distinguish different uses words like ‘appears’ and ‘looks’. At least, sometimes to say that something looks ‘F’ way and the sense-datum inference from an F ‘appearance’ in this sense to an actual ‘F’ would be hopeless. However, it also seems that we use the ‘appears’/’looks’ terminology to describe the phenomenological character of our experience and the inference might be more plausible when the terms are used this way. Still, it does seem that the arguments from illusion and hallucination will not by themselves constitute strong evidence for sense-datum theory. Even if one concludes that there is something common to both the hallucination of a red thing and a veridical visual experience of a red thing, one need not describe a common constituent as awarenesses of something red. The adverbial theorist would prefer to construe the common experiential state as ‘being appeared too redly’, a technical description intended only to convey the idea that the state in question need not be analysed as relational in character. Those who opt for an adverbial theory of sensation need to make good the claim that their artificial adverbs can be given a sense that is not parasitic upon an understanding of the adjectives transformed into verbs. Still, other philosophers might try to reduce the common element in veridical and non-veridical experience to some kind of intentional state. More like belief or judgement. The idea here is that the only thing common to the two experiences is the fact that in both I spontaneously takes there to be present an object of a certain kind.
The selfsame objections can be started within the general framework presupposed by proponents of the arguments from illusion and hallucination. A great many contemporary philosophers, however, uncomfortable with the intelligibility of the concepts needed to make sense of the theories attacked even. Thus, at least, some who object to the argument from illusion do so not because they defend direct realism. Rather they think there is something confused about all this talk of direct awareness or acquaintance. Contemporary Externalists, for example, usually insist that we understand epistemic concepts by appeal: To nomologically connections. On such a view the closest thing to direct knowledge would probably be something by other beliefs. If we understand direct knowledge this way, it is not clar how the phenomena of illusion and hallucination would be relevant to claim that on, at least some occasions our judgements about the physical world are reliably produced by processes that do not take as their input beliefs about something else.
The expressions ‘knowledge by acquaintance’ and ‘knowledge by description’, and the distinction they mark between knowing ‘things’ and knowing ‘about’ things, are now generally associated with Bertrand Russell. However, John Grote and Hermann von Helmholtz had earlier and independently to mark the same distinction, and William James adopted Grote’s terminology in his investigation of the distinction. Philosophers have perennially investigated this and related distinctions using varying terminology. Grote introduced the distinction by noting that natural languages ‘distinguish between these two applications of the notion of knowledge, the one being of the Greek ϒνѾναι, nosene, Kennen, connaître, the other being ‘wissen’, ‘savoir’ (Grote, 1865). On Grote’s account, the distinction is a natter of degree, and there are three sorts of dimensions of variability: Epistemic, causal and semantic.
We know things by experiencing them, and knowledge of acquaintance (Russell changed the preposition to ‘by’) is epistemically priori to and has a relatively higher degree of epistemic justification than knowledge about things. Indeed, sensation has ‘the one great value of trueness or freedom from mistake’ (1900, p. 206).
A thought (using that term broadly, to mean any mental state) constituting knowledge of acquaintance with a thing is more or less causally proximate to sensations caused by that thing, while a thought constituting knowledge about the thing is more or less distant causally, being separated from the thing and experience of it by processes of attention and inference. At the limit, if a thought is maximally of the acquaintance type, it is the first mental state occurring in a perceptual causal chain originating in the object to which the thought refers, i.e., it is a sensation. The thing’s presented to ‘us’ in sensation and of which we have knowledge of acquaintance include ordinary objects in the external world, such as the sun.
Grote contrasted the imagistic thoughts involved in knowledge of acquaintance with things, with the judgements involved in knowledge about things, suggesting that the latter but not the former are mentally contentual by a specified state of affairs. Elsewhere, however, he suggested that every thought capable of constituting knowledge of or about a thing involves a form, idea, or what we might call contentual propositional content, referring the thought to its object. Whether contentual or not, thoughts constituting knowledge of acquaintance with a thing are relatively indistinct, although this indistinctness does not imply incommunicably. On the other hand, thoughts constituting distinctly, as a result of ‘the application of notice or attention’ to the ‘confusion or chaos’ of sensation (1900, pp. 206-7). Grote did not have an explicit theory on reference, the relation by which a thought is ‘of’ or ‘about’ a specific thing. Nor did he explain how thoughts can be more or less indistinct.
Helmholtz held unequivocally that all thoughts capable of constituting knowledge, whether ‘knowledge that has to do with Notions’ (Wissen) or ‘mere familiarity with phenomena’ (Kennen), is judgements or, we may say, have conceptual propositional contents. Where Grote saw a difference between distinct and indistinct thoughts, Helmholtz found a difference between precise judgements that are expressible in words and equally precise judgements that, in principle, are not expressible in words, and so are not communicable (Helmholtz, 19620. As happened, James was influenced by Helmholtz and, especially, by Grote. (James, 1975). Taken on the latter’s terminology, James agreed with Grote that the distinction between knowledge of acquaintance with things and knowledge about things involves a difference in the degree of vagueness or distinctness of thoughts, though he, too, said little to explain how such differences are possible. At one extreme is knowledge of acquaintance with people and things, and with sensations of colour, flavour, spatial extension, temporal duration, effort and perceptible difference, unaccompanied by knowledge about these things. Such pure knowledge of acquaintance is vague and inexplicit. Movement away from this extreme, by a process of notice and analysis, yields a spectrum of less vague, more explicit thoughts constituting knowledge about things.
All the same, the distinction was not merely a relative one for James, as he was more explicit than Grote in not imputing content to every thought capable of constituting knowledge of or about things. At the extreme where a thought constitutes pure knowledge of acquaintance with a thing, there is a complete absence of conceptual propositional content in the thought, which is a sensation, feeling or precept, of which he renders the thought incommunicable. James’ reasons for positing an absolute discontinuity in between pure cognition and preferable knowledge of acquaintance and knowledge at all about things seem to have been that any theory adequate to the facts about reference must allow that some reference is not conventionally mediated, that conceptually unmediated reference is necessary if there are to be judgements at all about things and, especially, if there are to be judgements about relations between things, and that any theory faithful to the common person’s ‘sense of life’ must allow that some things are directly perceived.
James made a genuine advance over Grote and Helmholtz by analysing the reference relation holding between a thought and of him to specific things of or about which it is knowledge. In fact, he gave two different analyses. On both analyses, a thought constituting knowledge about a thing refers to and is knowledge about ‘a reality, whenever it actually or potentially ends in’ a thought constituting knowledge of acquaintance with that thing (1975). The two analyses differ in their treatments of knowledge of acquaintance. On James’s first analysis, reference in both sorts of knowledge is mediated by causal chains. A thought constituting pure knowledge of acquaintances with a thing refers to and is knowledge of ‘whatever reality it directly or indirectly operates on and resembles’ (1975). The concepts of a thought ‘operating on’ a thing or ‘terminating in’ another thought are causal, but where Grote found teleology and final causes. On James’s later analysis, the reference involved in knowledge of acquaintance with a thing is direct. A thought constituting knowledge of acquaintance with a thing either is that thing, or has that thing as a constituent, and the thing and the experience of it is identical (1975, 1976).
James further agreed with Grote that pure knowledge of acquaintance with things, i.e., sensory experience, is epistemologically priori to knowledge about things. While the epistemic justification involved in knowledge about things rests on the foundation of sensation, all thoughts about things are fallible and their justification is augmented by their mutual coherence. James was unclear about the precise epistemic status of knowledge of acquaintance. At times, thoughts constituting pure knowledge of acquaintance are said to posses ‘absolute veritableness’ (1890) and ‘the maximal conceivable truth’ (1975), suggesting that such thoughts are genuinely cognitive and that they provide an infallible epistemic foundation. At other times, such thoughts are said not to bear truth-values, suggesting that ‘knowledge’ of acquaintance is not genuine knowledge at all, but only a non-cognitive necessary condition of genuine knowledge, knowledge about things (1976). Russell understood James to hold the latter view.
Russell agreed with Grote and James on the following points: First, knowing things involves experiencing them. Second, knowledge of things by acquaintance is epistemically basic and provides an infallible epistemic foundation for knowledge about things. (Like James, Russell vacillated about the epistemic status of knowledge by acquaintance, and it eventually was replaced at the epistemic foundation by the concept of noticing.) Third, knowledge about things is more articulate and explicit than knowledge by acquaintance with things. Fourth, knowledge about things is causally removed from knowledge of things by acquaintance, by processes of reelection, analysis and inference (1911, 1913, 1959).
But, Russell also held that the term ‘experience’ must not be used uncritically in philosophy, on account of the ‘vague, fluctuating and ambiguous’ meaning of the term in its ordinary use. The precise concept found by Russell ‘in the nucleus of this uncertain patch of meaning’ is that of direct occurrent experience of a thing, and he used the term ‘acquaintance’ to express this relation, though he used that term technically, and not with all its ordinary meaning (1913). Nor did he undertake to give a constitutive analysis of the relation of acquaintance, though he allowed that it may not be unanalysable, and did characterize it as a generic concept. If the use of the term ‘experience’ is restricted to expressing the determinate core of the concept it ordinarily expresses, then we do not experience ordinary objects in the external world, as we commonly think and as Grote and James held we do. In fact, Russell held, one can be acquainted only with one’s sense-data, i.e., particular colours, sounds, etc.), one’s occurrent mental states, universals, logical forms, and perhaps, oneself.
Russell agreed with James that knowledge of things by acquaintance ‘is essentially simpler than any knowledge of truths, and logically independent of knowledge of truths’ (1912, 1929). The mental states involved when one is acquainted with things do not have propositional contents. Russell’s reasons here seem to have been similar to James’s. Conceptually unmediated reference to particulars necessary for understanding any proposition mentioning a particular, e.g., 1918-19, and, if scepticism about the external world is to be avoided, some particulars must be directly perceived (1911). Russell vacillated about whether or not the absence of propositional content renders knowledge by acquaintance incommunicable.
Russell agreed with James that different accounts should be given of reference as it occurs in knowledge by acquaintance and in knowledge about things, and that in the former case, reference is direct. But Russell objected on a number of grounds to James’s causal account of the indirect reference involved in knowledge about things. Russell gave a descriptional rather than a causal analysis of that sort of reference: A thought is about a thing when the content of the thought involves a definite description uniquely satisfied by the thing referred to. Indeed, he preferred to speak of knowledge of things by description, rather than knowledge about things.
Russell advanced beyond Grote and James by explaining how thoughts can be more or less articulate and explicit. If one is acquainted with a complex thing without being aware of or acquainted with its complexity, the knowledge one has by acquaintance with that thing is vague and inexplicit. Reflection and analysis can lead one to distinguish constituent parts of the object of acquaintance and to obtain progressively more comprehensible, explicit, and complete knowledge about it (1913, 1918-19, 1950, 1959).
Apparent facts to be explained about the distinction between knowing things and knowing about things are there. Knowledge about things is essentially propositional knowledge, where the mental states involved refer to specific things. This propositional knowledge can be more or less comprehensive, can be justified inferentially and on the basis of experience, and can be communicated. Knowing things, on the other hand, involves experience of things. This experiential knowledge provides an epistemic basis for knowledge about things, and in some sense is difficult or impossible to communicate, perhaps because it is more or less vague.
If one is unconvinced by James and Russell’s reasons for holding that experience of and reference work to things that are at least sometimes direct. It may seem preferable to join Helmholtz in asserting that knowing things and knowing about things both involve propositional attitudes. To do so would at least allow one the advantages of unified accounts of the nature of knowledge (propositional knowledge would be fundamental) and of the nature of reference: Indirect reference would be the only kind. The two kinds of knowledge might yet be importantly different if the mental states involved have different sorts of causal origins in the thinker’s cognitive faculties, involve different sorts of propositional attitudes, and differ in other constitutive respects relevant to the relative vagueness and communicability of the mental sates.
In any of cases, perhaps most, Foundationalism is a view concerning the ‘structure’ of the system of justified belief possessed by a given individual. Such a system is divided into ‘foundation’ and ‘superstructure’, so related that beliefs in the latter depend on the former for their justification but not vice versa. However, the view is sometimes stated in terms of the structure of ‘knowledge’ than of justified belief. If knowledge is true justified belief (plus, perhaps, some further condition), one may think of knowledge as exhibiting a Foundationalist structure by virtue of the justified belief it involves. In any event, the construing doctrine concerning the primary justification is layed the groundwork as affording the efforts of belief, though in feeling more free, we are to acknowledge the knowledgeable infractions that will from time to time be worthy in showing to its recognition.
The first step toward a more explicit statement of the position is to distinguish between ‘mediate’ (indirect) and ‘immediate’ (direct) justification of belief. To say that a belief is mediately justified is to any that it s justified by some appropriate relation to other justified beliefs, i.e., by being inferred from other justified beliefs that provide adequate support for it, or, alternatively, by being based on adequate reasons. Thus, if my reason for supposing that you are depressed is that you look listless, speak in an unaccustomedly flat tone of voice, exhibit no interest in things you are usually interested in, etc., then my belief that you are depressed is justified, if, at all, by being adequately supported by my justified belief that you look listless, speak in a flat tone of voice. . . .
A belief is immediately justified, on the other hand, if its justification is of another sort, e.g., if it is justified by being based on experience or if it is ‘self-justified’. Thus my belief that you look listless may not be based on anything else I am justified in believing but just on the cay you look to me. And my belief that 2 + 3 = 5 may be justified not because I infer it from something else, I justifiably believe, but simply because it seems obviously true to me.
In these terms we can put the thesis of Foundationalism by saying that all mediately justified beliefs owe their justification, ultimately to immediately justified beliefs. To get a more detailed idea of what this amounts to it will be useful to consider the most important argument for Foundationalism, the regress argument. Consider a mediately justified belief that ‘p’ (we are using lowercase letters as dummies for belief contents). It is, by hypothesis, justified by its relation to one or more other justified beliefs, ‘q’ and ‘r’. Now what justifies each of these, e.g., q? If it too is mediately justified that is because it is related accordingly to one or subsequent extra justified beliefs, e.g., ‘s’. By virtue of what is ‘s’ justified? If it is mediately justified, the same problem arises at the next stage. To avoid both circularity and an infinite regress, we are forced to suppose that in tracing back this chain we arrive at one or more immediately justified beliefs that stop the regress, since their justification does not depend on any further justified belief.
According to the infinite regress argument for Foundationalism, if every justified belief could be justified only by inferring it from some further justified belief, there would have to be an infinite regress of justifications: Because there can be no such regress, there must be justified beliefs that are not justified by appeal to some further justified belief. Instead, they are non-inferentially or immediately justified, they are basic or foundational, the ground on which all our other justifiable beliefs are to rest.
Variants of this ancient argument have persuaded and continue to persuade many philosophers that the structure of epistemic justification must be foundational. Aristotle recognized that if we are to have knowledge of the conclusion of an argument in the basis of its premisses, we must know the premisses. But if knowledge of a premise always required knowledge of some further proposition, then in order to know the premise we would have to know each proposition in an infinite regress of propositions. Since this is impossible, there must be some propositions that are known, but not by demonstration from further propositions: There must be basic, non-demonstrable knowledge, which grounds the rest of our knowledge.
Foundationalist enthusiasms for regress arguments often overlook the fact that they have also been advanced on behalf of scepticism, relativism, fideisms, conceptualism and Coherentism. Sceptics agree with foundationalist’s both that there can be no infinite regress of justifications and that nevertheless, there must be one if every justified belief can be justified only inferentially, by appeal to some further justified belief. But sceptics think all true justification must be inferential in this way -the foundationalist’s talk of immediate justification merely overshadows the requiring of any rational justification properly so-called. Sceptics conclude that none of our beliefs is justified. Relativists follow essentially the same pattern of sceptical argument, concluding that our beliefs can only be justified relative to the arbitrary starting assumptions or presuppositions either of an individual or of a form of life.
Regress arguments are not limited to epistemology. In ethics there is Aristotle’s regress argument (in “Nichomachean Ethics”) for the existence of a single end of rational action. In metaphysics there is Aquinas’s regress argument for an unmoved mover: If a mover that it is in motion, there would have to be an infinite sequence of movers each moved by a further mover, since there can be no such sequence, there is an unmoved mover. A related argument has recently been given to show that not every state of affairs can have an explanation or cause of the sort posited by principles of sufficient reason, and such principles are false, for reasons having to do with their own concepts of explanation (Post, 1980; Post, 1987).
The premise of which in presenting Foundationalism as a view concerning the structure ‘that is in fact exhibited’ by the justified beliefs of a particular person has sometimes been construed in ways that deviate from each of the phrases that are contained in the previous sentence. Thus, it is sometimes taken to characterise the structure of ‘our knowledge’ or ‘scientific knowledge’, rather than the structure of the cognitive system of an individual subject. As for the other phrase, Foundationalism is sometimes thought of as concerned with how knowledge (justified belief) is acquired or built up, than with the structure of what a person finds herself with at a certain point. Thus some people think of scientific inquiry as starting with the recordings of observations (immediately justified observational beliefs), and then inductively inferring generalizations. Again, Foundationalism is sometimes thought of not as a description of the finished product or of the mode of acquisition, but rather as a proposal for how the system could be reconstructed, an indication of how it could all be built up from immediately justified foundations. This last would seem to be the kind of Foundationalism we find in Descartes. However, Foundationalism is most usually thought of in contemporary Anglo-American epistemology as an account of the structure actually exhibited by an individual’s system of justified belief.
It should also be noted that the term is used with a deplorable looseness in contemporary, literary circles, even in certain corners of the philosophical world, to refer to anything from realism -the view that reality has a definite constitution regardless of how we think of it or what we believe about it to various kinds of ‘absolutism’ in ethics, politics, or wherever, and even to the truism that truth is stable (if a proposition is true, it stays true).
Since Foundationalism holds that all mediate justification rests on immediately justified beliefs, we may divide variations in forms of the view into those that have to do with the immediately justified beliefs, the ‘foundations’, and those that have to do with the modes of derivation of other beliefs from these, how the ‘superstructure’ is built up. The most obvious variation of the first sort has to do with what modes of immediate justification are recognized. Many treatments, both pro and con, are parochially restricted to one form of immediate justification -self-evidence, self-justification (self-warrant), justification by a direct awareness of what the belief is about, or whatever. It is then unwarrantly assumed by critics that disposing of that one form will dispose of Foundationalism generally (Alston, 1989, ch. 3). The emphasis historically has been on beliefs that simply ‘record’ what is directly given in experience (Lewis, 1946) and on self-evident propositions (Descartes’ ‘clear and distinct perceptions and Locke’s ‘Perception of the agreement and disagreement of ideas’). But self-warrant has also recently received a great deal of attention (Alston 1989), and there is also a reliabilist version according to which a belief can be immediately justified just by being acquired by a reliable belief-forming process that does not take other beliefs as inputs (BonJour, 1985, ch. 3).
Foundationalisms also differ as to what further constraints, if any, are put on foundations. Historically, it has been common to require of the foundations of knowledge that they exhibit certain ‘epistemic immunities’, as we might put it, immunity from error, refutation or doubt. Thus Descartes, along with many other seventeenth and eighteenth-century philosophers, took it that any knowledge worthy of the name would be based on cognations the truth of which is guaranteed (infallible), that were maximally stable, immune from ever being shown to be mistaken, as incorrigible, and concerning which no reasonable doubt could be raised (indubitable). Hence the search in the “Meditations” for a divine guarantee of our faculty of rational intuition. Criticisms of Foundationalism have often been directed at these constraints: Lehrer, 1974, Will, 1974? Both responded to in Alston, 1989. It is important to realize that a position that is Foundationalist in a distinctive sense can be formulated without imposing any such requirements on foundations.
There are various ways of distinguishing types of Foundationalist epistemology by the use of the variations we have been enumerating. Plantinga (1983), has put forwards an influential innovation of criterial Foundationalism, specified in terms of limitations on the foundations. He construes this as a disjunction of ‘ancient and medieval Foundationalism’, which takes foundations to comprise what is self-evidently and ‘evident to he senses’, and ‘modern Foundationalism’ that replaces ‘evidently to the senses’ with ‘incorrigible’, which in practice was taken to apply only to beliefs about one’s present states of consciousness. Plantinga himself developed this notion in the context of arguing those items outside this territory, in particular certain beliefs about God, could also be immediately justified. A popular recent distinction is between what is variously called ‘strong’ or ‘extreme’ Foundationalism and ‘moderate’, ‘modest’ or ‘minimal’ Foundationalism, with the distinction depending on whether various epistemic immunities are required of foundations. Finally, its distinction is ‘simple’ and ‘iterative’ Foundationalism (Alston, 1989), depending on whether it is required of a foundation only that it is immediately justified, or whether it is also required that the higher level belief that the firmer belief is immediately justified is itself immediately justified. Suggesting only that the plausibility of the stronger requirement stems from a ‘level confusion’ between beliefs on different levels.
The classic opposition is between Foundationalism and Coherentism. Coherentism denies any immediate justification. It deals with the regress argument by rejecting ‘linear’ chains of justification and, in effect, taking the total system of belief to be epistemically primary. A particular belief is justified yo the extent that it is integrated into a coherent system of belief. More recently into a pragmatist like John Dewey has developed a position known as contextualism, which avoids ascribing any overall structure to knowledge. Questions concerning justification can only arise in particular context, defined in terms of assumptions that are simply taken for granted, though they can be questioned in other contexts, where other assumptions will be privileged.
Foundationalism can be attacked both in its commitment to immediate justification and in its claim that all mediately justified beliefs ultimately depend on the former. Though, it is the latter that is the position’s weakest point, most of the critical fire has been detected to the former. As pointed out about much of this criticism has been directly against some particular form of immediate justification, ignoring the possibility of other forms. Thus, much anti-foundationalist artillery has been directed at the ‘myth of the given’. The idea that facts or things are ‘given’ to consciousness in a pre-conceptual, pre-judgmental mode, and that beliefs can be justified on that basis (Sellars, 1963). The most prominent general argument against immediate justification is a ‘level ascent’ argument, according to which whatever is taken ti immediately justified a belief that the putative justifier has in supposing to do so. Hence, since the justification of the higher level belief after all (BonJour, 1985). We lack adequate support for any such higher level requirements for justification, and if it were imposed we would be launched on an infinite undergo regress, for a similar requirement would hold equally for the higher level belief that the original justifier was efficacious.
Coherence is a major player in the theatre of knowledge. There are coherence theories of belief, truth, and justification. These combine in various ways to yield theories of knowledge. We will proceed from belief through justification to truth. Coherence theories of belief are concerned with the content of beliefs. Consider a belief you now have, the beliefs that you are reading a page in a book, so what makes that belief the belief that it is? What makes it the belief that you are reading a page in a book than the belief hat you have a monster in the garden?
One answer is that the belief has a coherent place or role in a system of beliefs. Perception has an influence on belief. You respond to sensory stimuli by believing that you are reading a page in a book rather than believing that you have a centaur in the garden. Belief has an influence on action. You will act differently if you believe that you are reading a page than if you believe something about a centaur. Perspicacity and action undermine the content of belief, however, the same stimuli may produce various beliefs and various beliefs may produce the same action. The role that gives the belief the content it has in the role it plays in a network of relations to the beliefs, the role in inference and implications, for example, I refer different things from believing that I am inferring different things from believing that I am reading a page in a book than from any other beliefs, just as I infer that belief from any other belief, just as I infer that belief from different things than I infer other beliefs from.
The input of perception and the output of an action supplement the centre role of the systematic relations the belief has to other beliefs, but it is the systematic relations that give the belief the specific content it has. They are the fundamental source of the content of beliefs. That is how coherence comes in. A belief has the content that it does because of the way in which it coheres within a system of beliefs (Rosenberg, 1988). We might distinguish weak coherence theories of the content of beliefs from strong coherence theories. Weak coherence theories affirm that coherences are one-determinant of the content of belief. Strong coherence theories of the contents of belief affirm that coherence is the sole determinant of the content of belief.
When we turn from belief to justification, we are in confronting a corresponding group of similarities fashioned by their coherences motifs. What makes one belief justified and another not? The answer is the way it coheres with the background system of beliefs. Again, there is a distinction between weak and strong theories of coherence. Weak theories tell ‘us’ that the way in which a belief coheres with a background system of beliefs is one determinant of justification, other typical determinants being perception, memory and intuition. Strong theories, by contrast, tell ‘us’ that justification is solely a matter of how a belief coheres with a system of beliefs. There is, however, another distinction that cuts across the distinction between weak and strong coherence theories of justification. It is the distinction between positive and negative coherence theories (Pollock, 1986). A positive coherence theory tells ‘us’ that if a belief coheres with a background system of belief, then the belief is justified. A negative coherence theory tells ‘us’ that if a belief fails to cohere with a background system of beliefs, then the belief is not justified. We might put this by saying that, according to a positive coherence theory, coherence has the power to produce justification, while according to a negative coherence theory, coherence has only the power to nullify justification.
A strong coherence theory of justification is a combination of a positive and a negative theory that tells ‘us’ that a belief is justified if and only if it coheres with a background system of beliefs.
Traditionally, belief has been of epistemological interest in its propositional guise: ‘S’ believes that ‘p’, where ‘p’ is a proposition toward which an agent, ‘S’, exhibits an attitude of acceptance. Not all belief is of this sort. If I trust what you say, I believe you. And someone may believe in Mrs. Thatcher, or in a free-market economy, or in God. It is sometimes supposed that all belief is ‘reducible’ to propositional belief, belief-that. Thus, my believing you might be thought a matter of my believing, perhaps, that what you say is true, and your belief in free-markets or in God, a matter of your believing that free-market economy’s are desirable or that God exists.
It is doubtful, however, that non-propositional believing can, in every case, be reduced in this way. Debate on this point has tended to focus on an apparent distinction between ‘belief-that’ and ‘belief-in’, and the application of this distinction to belief in God. Some philosophers have followed Aquinas ©. 1225-74), in supposing that to believe in, and God is simply to believe that certain truths hold: That God exists, that he is benevolent, etc. Others (e.g., Hick, 1957) argue that belief-in is a distinctive attitude, one that includes essentially an element of trust. More commonly, belief-in has been taken to involve a combination of propositional belief together with some further attitude.
H.H. Price (1969) defends the claims that there are different sorts of ‘belief-in’, some, but not all, reducible to ‘beliefs-that’. If you believe in God, you believe that God exists, that God is good, etc., but, according to Price, your belief involves, in addition, a certain complex pro-attitude toward its object. One might attempt to analyse this further attitude in terms of additional beliefs-that: ‘S’ believes in ‘χ’ just in case (1) ‘S’ believes that ‘χ’ exists (and perhaps holds further factual beliefs about (χ): (2)’S’ believes that ‘χ’ is good or valuable in some respect, and (3) ‘S’ believes that χ’s being good or valuable in this respect is itself is a good thing. An analysis of this sort, however, fails adequately to capture the further affective component of belief-in. Thus, according to Price, if you believe in God, your belief is not merely that certain truths hold, you posses, in addition, an attitude of commitment and trust toward God.
Notoriously, belief-in outruns the evidence for the corresponding belief-that. Does this diminish its rationality? If belief-in presupposes belief-that, it might be thought that the evidential standards for the former must be, at least as high as standards for the latter. And any additional pro-attitude might be thought to require a further layer of justification not required for cases of belief-that.
Some philosophers have argued that, at least for cases in which belief-in is synonymous with faith (or faith-in), evidential thresholds for constituent propositional beliefs are diminished. You may reasonably have faith in God or Mrs. Thatcher, even though beliefs about their respective attitudes, were you to harbour them, would be evidentially substandard.
Belief-in may be, in general, less susceptible to alternations in the face of unfavourable evidence than belief-that. A believer who encounters evidence against God’s existence may remain unshaken in his belief, in part because the evidence does not bear on his pro-attitude. So long as this is united with his belief that God exists, the belief may survive epistemic buffeting-and reasonably so in a way that an ordinary propositional belief-that would not.
At least two large sets of questions are properly treated under the heading of epistemological religious beliefs. First, there is a set of broadly theological questions about the relationship between faith and reason, between what one knows by way of reason, broadly construed, and what one knows by way of faith. These theological questions may as we call theological, because, of course, one will find them of interest only if one thinks that in fact there is such a thing as faith, and that we do know something by way of it. Secondly, there is a whole set of questions having to do with whether and to what degree religious beliefs have warrant, or justification, or positive epistemic status. The second, is seemingly as an important set of a theological question is yet spoken of faith.
Epistemology, so we are told, is theory of knowledge: Its aim is to discern and explain that quality or quantity enough of which distinguishes knowledge from mere true belief. We need a name for this quality or quantity, whatever precisely it is, call it ‘warrant’. From this point of view, the epistemology of religious belief should centre on the question whether religious belief has warrant, an if it does, hoe much it has and how it gets it. As a matter of fact, however, epistemological discussion of religious belief, at least since the Enlightenment (and in the Western world, especially the English-speaking Western world) has tended to focus, not on the question whether religious belief has warrant, but whether it is justified. More precisely, it has tended to focus on the question whether those properties enjoyed by theistic belief -the belief that there exists a person like the God of traditional Christianity, Judaism and Islam: An almighty Law Maker, or an all-knowing and most wholly benevolent and a loving spiritual person who has created the living world. The chief question, therefore, has ben whether theistic belief is justified, the same question is often put by asking whether theistic belief is rational or rationally acceptable. Still further, the typical way of addressing this question has been by way of discussing arguments for or and against the existence of God. On the pro side, there are the traditional theistic proofs or arguments: The ontological, cosmological and teleological arguments, using Kant’s terms for them. On the other side, the anti-theistic side, the principal argument is the argument from evil, the argument that is not possible or at least probable that there be such a person as God, given all the pain, suffering and evil the world displays. This argument is flanked by subsidiary arguments, such as the claim that the very concept of God is incoherent, because, for example, it is impossible that there are the people without a body, and Freudian and Marxist claims that religious belief arises out of a sort of magnification and projection into the heavens of human attributes we think important.
But why has discussion centred on justification rather than warrant? And precisely what is justification? And why has the discussion of justification of theistic belief focussed so heavily on arguments for and against the existence of God?
As to the first question, we can see why once we see that the dominant epistemological tradition in modern Western philosophy has tended to ‘identify’ warrant with justification. On this way of looking at the matter, warrant, that which distinguishes knowledge from mere true belief, just ‘is’ justification. Belief theory of knowledge-the theory according to which knowledge is justified true belief has enjoyed the status of orthodoxy. According to this view, knowledge is justified truer belief, therefore any of your beliefs have warrant for you if and only if you are justified in holding it.
But what is justification? What is it to be justified in holding a belief? To get a proper sense of the answer, we must turn to those twin towers of western epistemology. René Descartes and especially, John Locke. The first thing to see is that according to Descartes and Locke, there are epistemic or intellectual duties, or obligations, or requirements. Thus, Locke:
Faith is nothing but a firm assent of the mind, which if it is regulated, A is our duty, cannot be afforded to anything, but upon good reason: And cannot be opposite to it, he that believes, without having any reason for believing, may be in love with his own fanciers: But, neither seeks truth as he ought, nor pats the obedience due his maker, which would have him use those discerning faculties he has given him: To keep him out of mistake and error. He that does this to the best of his power, however, he sometimes lights on truth, is in the right but by chance: And I know not whether the luckiest of the accidents will excuse the irregularity of his proceeding. This, at least is certain, that he must be accountable for whatever mistakes he runs into: Whereas, he that makes use of the light and faculties God has given him, by seeks sincerely to discover truth, by those helps and abilities he has, may have this satisfaction in doing his duty as rational creature, that though he should miss truth, he will not miss the reward of it. For he governs his assent right, and places it as he should, who in any case or matter whatsoever, believes or disbelieves, according as reason directs him. He manages otherwise, transgresses against his own light, and misuses those faculties, which were given him . . . (Essays 4.17.24).
Rational creatures, creatures with reason, creatures capable of believing propositions (and of disbelieving and being agnostic with respect to them), say Locke, have duties and obligation with respect to the regulation of their belief or assent. Now the central core of the notion of justification(as the etymology of the term indicates) this: One is justified in doing something or in believing a certain way, if in doing one is innocent of wrong doing and hence not properly subject to blame or censure. You are justified, therefore, if you have violated no duties or obligations, if you have conformed to the relevant requirements, if you are within your rights. To be justified in believing something, then, is to be within your rights in so believing, to be flouting no duty, to be to satisfy your epistemic duties and obligations. This way of thinking of justification has been the dominant way of thinking about justification: And this way of thinking has many important contemporary representatives. Roderick Chisholm, for example (as distinguished an epistemologist as the twentieth century can boast), in his earlier work explicitly explains justification in terms of epistemic duty (Chisholm, 1977).
The (or, a) main epistemological; questions about religious believe, therefore, has been the question whether or not religious belief in general and theistic belief in particular is justified. And the traditional way to answer that question has been to inquire into the arguments for and against theism. Why this emphasis upon these arguments? An argument is a way of marshalling your propositional evidence-the evidence from other such propositions as likens to believe-for or against a given proposition. And the reason for the emphasis upon argument is the assumption that theistic belief is justified if and only if there is sufficient propositional evidence for it. If there is not’ much by way of propositional evidence for theism, then you are not justified in accepting it. Moreover, if you accept theistic belief without having propositional evidence for it, then you are ging contrary to epistemic duty and are therefore unjustified in accepting it. Thus, W.K. William James, trumpets that ‘it is wrong, always everything upon insufficient evidence’, his is only the most strident in a vast chorus of only insisting that there is an intellectual duty not to believe in God unless you have propositional evidence for that belief. (A few others in the choir: Sigmund Freud, Brand Blanshard, H.H. Price, Bertrand Russell and Michael Scriven.)
Now how it is that the justification of theistic belief gets identified with there being propositional evidence for it? Justification is a matter of being blameless, of having done one’s duty (in this context, one’s epistemic duty): What, precisely, has this to do with having propositional evidence?
The answer, once, again, is to be found in Descartes especially Locke. As, justification is the property your beliefs have when, in forming and holding them, you conform to your epistemic duties and obligations. But according to Locke, a central epistemic duty is this: To believe a proposition only to the degree that it is probable with respect to what is certain for you. What propositions are certain for you? First, according to Descartes and Locke, propositions about your own immediate experience, that you have a mild headache, or that it seems to you that you see something red: And second, propositions that are self-evident for you, necessarily true propositions so obvious that you cannot so much as entertain them without seeing that they must be true. (Examples would be simple arithmetical and logical propositions, together with such propositions as that the whole is at least as large as the parts, that red is a colour, and that whatever exists has properties.) Propositions of these two sorts are certain for you, as fort other prepositions. You are justified in believing if and only if when one and only to the degree to which it is probable with respect to what is certain for you. According to Locke, therefore, and according to the whole modern Foundationalist tradition initiated by Locke and Descartes (a tradition that until has recently dominated Western thinking about these topics) there is a duty not to accept a proposition unless it is certain or probable with respect to what is certain.
In the present context, therefore, the central Lockean assumption is that there is an epistemic duty not to accept theistic belief unless it is probable with respect to what is certain for you: As a consequence, theistic belief is justified only if the existence of God is probable with respect to what is certain. Locke does not argue for his proposition, he simply announces it, and epistemological discussion of theistic belief has for the most part followed hin ion making this assumption. This enables ‘us’ to see why epistemological discussion of theistic belief has tended to focus on the arguments for and against theism: On the view in question, theistic belief is justified only if it is probable with respect to what is certain, and the way to show that it is probable with respect to what it is certain are to give arguments for it from premises that are certain or, are sufficiently probable with respect to what is certain.
There are at least three important problems with this approach to the epistemology of theistic belief. First, there standards for theistic arguments have traditionally been set absurdly high (and perhaps, part of the responsibility for this must be laid as the door of some who have offered these arguments and claimed that they constitute wholly demonstrative proofs). The idea seems to test. a good theistic argument must start from what is self-evident and proceed majestically by way of self-evidently valid argument forms to its conclusion. It is no wonder that few if any theistic arguments meet that lofty standard -particularly, in view of the fact that almost no philosophical arguments of any sort meet it. (Think of your favourite philosophical argument: Does it really start from premisses that are self-evident and move by ways of self-evident argument forms to its conclusion?)
Secondly, attention has ben mostly confined to three theistic arguments: The traditional arguments, cosmological and teleological arguments, but in fact, there are many more good arguments: Arguments from the nature of proper function, and from the nature of propositions, numbers and sets. These are arguments from intentionality, from counterfactual, from the confluence of epistemic reliability with epistemic justification, from reference, simplicity, intuition and love. There are arguments from colours and flavours, from miracles, play and enjoyment, morality, from beauty and from the meaning of life. This is even a theistic argument from the existence of evil.
But there are a third and deeper problems here. The basic assumption is that theistic belief is justified only if it is or can be shown to be probable with respect to many a body of evidence or proposition -perhaps, those that are self-evident or about one’s own mental life, but is this assumption true? The idea is that theistic belief is very much like a scientific hypothesis: It is acceptable if and only if there is an appropriate balance of propositional evidence in favour of it. But why believe a thing like that? Perhaps the theory of relativity or the theory of evolution is like that, such a theory has been devised to explain the phenomena and gets all its warrant from its success in so doing. However, other beliefs, e.g., memory beliefs, feelifelt in other minds is not like that, they are not hypothetical at all, and are not accepted because of their explanatory powers. There are instead, the propositions from which one start in attempting to give evidence for a hypothesis. Now, why assume that theistic belief, belief in God, is in this regard more like a scientific hypothesis than like, say, a memory belief? Why think that the justification of theistic belief depends upon the evidential relation of theistic belief to other things one believes? According to Locke and the beginnings of this tradition, it is because there is a duty not to assent to a proposition unless it is probable with respect to what is certain to you, but is there really any such duty? No one has succeeded in showing that, say, belief in other minds or the belief that there has been a past, is probable with respect to what is certain for ‘us’. Suppose it is not: Does it follow that you are living in epistemic sin if you believe that there are other minds? Or a past?
There are urgent questions about any view according to which one has duties of the sort ‘do not believe ‘p’ unless it is probable with respect to what is certain for you; . First, if this is a duty, is it one to which I can conform? My beliefs are for the most part not within my control: Certainly they are not within my direct control. I believe that there has been a past and that there are other people, even if these beliefs are not probable with respect to what is certain forms (and even if I came to know this) I could not give them up. Whether or not I accept such beliefs are not really up to me at all, For I can no more refrain from believing these things than I can refrain from conforming yo the law of gravity. Second, is there really any reason for thinking I have such a duty? Nearly everyone recognizes such duties as that of not engaging in gratuitous cruelty, taking care of one’s children and one’s aged parents, and the like, but do we also find ourselves recognizing that there is a duty not to believe what is not probable (or, what we cannot see to be probable) with respect to what are certain for ‘us’? It hardly seems so. However, it is hard to see why being justified in believing in God requires that the existence of God be probable with respect to some such body of evidence as the set of propositions certain for you. Perhaps, theistic belief is properly basic, i.e., such that one is perfectly justified in accepting it on the evidential basis of other propositions one believes.
Taking justification in that original etymological fashion, therefore, there is every reason ton doubt that one is justified in holding theistic belief only inf one is justified in holding theistic belief only if one has evidence for it. Of course, the term ‘justification’ has under-gone various analogical extensions in the of various philosophers, it has been used to name various properties that are different from justification etymologically so-called, but anagogically related to it. In such a way, the term sometimes used to mean propositional evidence: To say that a belief is justified for someone is to saying that he has propositional evidence (or sufficient propositional evidence) for it. So taken, however, the question whether theistic belief is justified loses some of its interest; for it is not clear (given this use)beliefs that are unjustified in that sense. Perhaps, one also does not have propositional evidence for one’s memory beliefs, if so, that would not be a mark against them and would not suggest that there be something wrong holding them.
Another analogically connected way to think about justification (a way to think about justification by the later Chisholm) is to think of it as simply a relation of fitting between a given proposition and one’s epistemic vase -which includes the other things one believes, as well as one’s experience. Perhaps tat is the way justification is to be thought of, but then, if it is no longer at all obvious that theistic belief has this property of justification if it seems as a probability with respect to many another body of evidence. Perhaps, again, it is like memory beliefs in this regard.
To recapitulate: The dominant Western tradition has been inclined to identify warrant with justification, it has been inclined to take the latter in terms of duty and the fulfilment of obligation, and hence to suppose that there is no epistemic duty not to believe in God unless you have good propositional evidence for the existence of God. Epistemological discussion of theistic belief, as a consequence, as concentrated on the propositional evidence for and against theistic belief, i.e., on arguments for and against theistic belief. But there is excellent reason to doubt that there are epistemic duties of the sort the tradition appeals to here.
And perhaps it was a mistake to identify warrant with justification in the first place. Napoleons have little warrant for him: His problem, however, need not be dereliction of epistemic duty. He is in difficulty, but it is not or necessarily that of failing to fulfill epistemic duty. He may be doing his epistemic best, but he may be doing his epistemic duty in excelsis: But his madness prevents his beliefs from having much by way of warrant. His lack of warrant is not a matter of being unjustified, i.e., failing to fulfill epistemic duty. So warrant and being epistemologically justified by name are not the same things. Another example, suppose (to use the favourite twentieth-century variant of Descartes’ evil demon example) I have been captured by Alpha-Centaurian super-scientists, running a cognitive experiment, they remove my brain, and keep it alive in some artificial nutrients, and by virtue of their advanced technology induce in me the beliefs I might otherwise have if I were going about my usual business. Then my beliefs would not have much by way of warrant, but would it be because I was failing to do my epistemic duty? Hardly.
As a result of these and other problems, another, externalist way of thinking about knowledge has appeared in recent epistemology, that a theory of justification is internalized if and only if it requires that all of its factors needed for a belief to be epistemically accessible to that of a person, internal to his cognitive perception, and externalist, if it allows that, at least some of the justifying factors need not be thus accessible, in that they can be external to the believer’ s cognitive Perspectives, beyond his ken. However, epistemologists often use the distinction between internalized and externalist theories of epistemic justification without offering any very explicit explanation.
Or perhaps the thing to say, is that it has reappeared, for the dominant sprains in epistemology priori to the Enlightenment were really externalist. According to this externalist way of thinking, warrant does not depend upon satisfaction of duty, or upon anything else to which the Knower has special cognitive access (as he does to what is about his own experience and to whether he is trying his best to do his epistemic duty): It depends instead upon factors ‘external’ to the epistemic agent -such factors as whether his beliefs are produced by reliable cognitive mechanisms, or whether they are produced by epistemic faculties functioning properly in-an appropriate epistemic environment.
How will we think about the epistemology of theistic belief in more than is less of an externalist way (which is at once both satisfyingly traditional and agreeably up to date)? I think, that the ontological question whether there is such a person as God is in a way priori to the epistemological question about the warrant of theistic belief. It is natural to think that if in fact we have been created by God, then the cognitive processes that issue in belief in God are indeed realisable belief-producing processes, and if in fact God created ‘us’, then no doubt the cognitive faculties that produce belief in God is functioning properly in an epistemologically congenial environment. On the other hand, if there is no such person as God, if theistic belief is an illusion of some sort, then things are much less clear. Then beliefs in God in of the most of basic ways of wishing that never doubt the production by which unrealistic thinking or another cognitive process not aimed at truth. Thus, it will have little or no warrant. And belief in God on the basis of argument would be like belief in false philosophical theories on the basis of argument: Do such beliefs have warrant? Notwithstanding, the custom of discussing the epistemological questions about theistic belief as if they could be profitably discussed independently of the ontological issue as to whether or not theism is true, is misguided. There two issues are intimately intertwined,
Nonetheless, the vacancy left, as today and as days before are an awakening and untold story beginning by some sparking conscious paradigm left by science. That is a central idea by virtue accredited by its epistemology, where in fact, is that justification and knowledge arising from the proper functioning of our intellectual virtues or faculties in an appropriate environment. This particular yet, peculiar idea is captured in the following criterion for justified belief:
(J) ‘S’ is justified in believing that ‘p’ if and only if of S’s believing that ‘p’ is the result of S’s intellectual virtues or faculties functioning in appropriate environment.
What is an intellectual virtue or faculty? A virtue or faculty in general is a power or ability or competence to achieve some result. An intellectual virtue or faculty, in the sense intended above, is a power or ability or competence to arrive at truths in a particular field, and to avoid believing falsehoods in that field. Examples of human intellectual virtues are sight, hearing, introspection, memory, deduction and induction. More exactly.
(V) A mechanism ‘M’ for generating and/or maintaining beliefs is an intellectual virtue if and only if ‘M’‘s’ is a competence to believing true propositions and refrain from false believing propositions within a field of propositions ‘F’, when one is in a set of circumstances ‘C’.
It is required that we specify a particular field of suggestions or its propositional field for ‘M’, since a given cognitive mechanism will be a competence for believing some kind of truths but not others. The faculty of sight, for example, allows ‘us’ to determine the colour of objects, but not the sounds that they associatively make. It is also required that we specify a set of circumstances for ‘M’, since a given cognitive mechanism will be a competence in some circumstances but not others. For example, the faculty of sight allows ‘us’ to determine colours in a well lighten room, but not in a darkened cave or formidable abyss.
According to the aforementioned formulations, what makes a cognitive mechanism an intellectual virtue is that it is reliable in generating true beliefs than false beliefs in the relevant field and in the relevant circumstances. It is correct to say, therefore, that virtue epistemology is a kind of reliabilism. Whereas, genetic reliabilism maintains that justified belief is belief that results from a reliable cognitive process, virtue epistemology makes a restriction on the kind of process which is allowed. Namely, the cognitive processes that are important for justification and knowledge is those that have their basis in an intellectual virtue.
Finally, that the concerning mental faculty reliability point to the importance of an appropriate environment. The idea is that cognitive mechanisms might be reliable in some environments but not in others. Consider an example from Alvin Plantinga. On a planet revolving around Alfa Centauri, cats are invisible to human beings. Moreover, Alfa Centaurian cats emit a type of radiation that causes humans to form the belief that there I a dog barking nearby. Suppose now that you are transported to this Alfa Centaurian planet, a cat walks by, and you form the belief that there is a dog barking nearby. Surely you are not justified in believing this. However, the problem here is not with your intellectual faculties, but with your environment. Although your faculties of perception are reliable on earth, yet are unrealisable on the Alga Centaurian planet, which is an inappropriate environment for those faculties.
The central idea of virtue epistemology, as expressed in (J) above, has a high degree of initial plausibility. By masking the idea of faculties’ cental to the reliability if not by the virtue of epistemology, in that it explains quite neatly to why beliefs are caused by perception and memories are often justified, while beliefs caused by unrealistic and superstition are not. Secondly, the theory gives ‘us’ a basis for answering certain kinds of scepticism. Specifically, we may agree that if we were brains in a vat, or victims of a Cartesian demon, then we would not have knowledge even in those rare cases where our beliefs turned out true. But virtue epistemology explains that what is important for knowledge is toast our faculties are in fact reliable in the environment in which we are. And so we do have knowledge so long as we are in fact, not victims of a Cartesian demon, or brains in a vat. Finally, Plantinga argues that virtue epistemology deals well with Gettier problems. The idea is that Gettier problems give ‘us’ cases of justified belief that is ‘truer by accident’. Virtue epistemology, Plantinga argues, helps ‘us’ to understand what it means for a belief to be true by accident, and provides a basis for saying why such cases are not knowledge. Beliefs are rue by accident when they are caused by otherwise reliable faculties functioning in an inappropriate environment. Plantinga develops this line of reasoning in Plantinga (1988).
The Humean problem if induction supposes that there is some property ‘A’ pertaining to an observational or experimental situation, and that of ‘A’, some fraction m/n (possibly equal to 1) have also been instances of some logically independent property ‘B’. Suppose further that the background circumstances, have been varied to a substantial degree and that there is no collateral information available concerning the frequency of ‘B’s’ among ‘A’s’ or concerning causal nomological connections between instances of ‘A’ and instances of ‘B’.
In this situation, an enumerative or instantial inductive inference would move from the premise that m/n of observed ‘A’s’ are ‘B’s’ to the conclusion that approximately m/n of all ‘A’s’ and ‘B’s’. (The usual probability qualification will be assumed to apply to the inference, than being part of the conclusion). Hereabouts the class of ‘A’s’ should be taken to include not only unobservable ‘A’s’ of future ‘A’s’, but also possible or hypothetical ‘a’s’. (An alternative conclusion would concern the probability or likelihood of the very next observed ‘A’ being a ‘B’).
The traditional or Humean problem of induction, often refereed to simply as ‘the problem of induction’, is the problem of whether and why inferences that fit this schema should be considered rationally acceptable or justified from an epistemic or cognitive standpoint, i.e., whether and why reasoning in this way is likely lead to true claims about the world. Is there any sort of argument or rationale that can be offered for thinking that conclusions reached in this way are likely to be true if the corresponding premiss is true or even that their chances of truth are significantly enhanced?
Hume’s discussion of this deals explicitly with cases where all observed ‘A’s’ ae ‘B’s’, but his argument applies just as well to the more general casse. His conclusion is entirely negative and sceptical: inductive inferences are not rationally justified, but are instead the result of an essentially a-rational process, custom or habit. Hume challenges the proponent of induction to supply a cogent line of reasoning that leads from an inductive premise to the corresponding conclusion and offers an extremely influential argument in the form of a dilemma, to show that there can be no such reasoning. Such reasoning would, ne argues, have to be either deductively demonstrative reasoning concerning relations of ideas or ‘experimental’, i.e., empirical, reasoning concerning mattes of fact to existence. It cannot be the former, because all demonstrative reasoning relies on the avoidance of contradiction, and it is not a contradiction to suppose that ‘the course of nature may change’, tat an order that was observed in the past will not continue in the future: but it also cannot be the latter, since any empirical argument would appeal to the success of such reasoning in previous experiences, and the justifiability of generalizing from previous experience is precisely what is at issue-s o that any such appeal would be question-begging, so then, there can be no such reasoning.
An alternative version of the problem may be obtained by formulating it with reference to the so-called Principle of Induction, which says roughly that the future will resemble or, that unobserved cases will reassembly observe cases. An inductive argument may be viewed as enthymematic, with this principle serving as a suppressed premiss, in which case the issue is obviously how such a premise can be justified. Hume’s argument is then that no such justification is possible: The principle cannot be justified speculatively as it is not contradictory to deny it: it cannot be justified by appeal to its having been true in pervious experience without obviously begging te question.
The predominant recent responses to the problem of induction, at least in the analytic tradition, in effect accept the main conclusion of Hume’s argument, viz. That inductive inferences cannot be justified I the sense of showing that the conclusion of such an inference is likely to be truer if the premise is true, and thus attempt to find some other sort of justification for induction.
Bearing upon, and if not taken into account the term ‘induction’ is most widely used for any process of reasoning that takes ‘us’ from empirical premises to empirical conclusions supported by the premise, but not deductively entailed by them. Inductive arguments are therefore kinds of amplicative argument, in which something beyond the content of the premises is inferred as probable or supported by them. Induction is, however, commonly distinguished from arguments to theoretical explanations, which share this amplicative character, by being confined to inference in which the conclusion involves the same properties or relations as the premises. The central example is induction by simple enumeration, where from premiss telling that Fa, Fb, Fc. , where a, b, c ~, are all of some kind ‘G’, I t is inferred ‘G’s’ from outside the sample, such as future ‘G’s’ will be ‘F’, or perhaps other person deceive them, children may well infer that everyone is a deceiver. Different but similar inferences are those from the past possession of a property by some object to the same object’s future possession, or from the constancy of some law-like pattern in events, and states of affairs to its future constancy: all objects we know of attract each the with a fore inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them, so perhaps they all do so, an will always do so.
The rational basis of any inference was challenged by David Hume (1711-76), who believed that induction of nature, and merely reflected a habit or custom of the mind. Hume was not therefore sceptical about the propriety of processes of inducting ion, but sceptical about the tole of reason in either explaining it or justifying it. trying to answer Hume and to show that there is something rationally compelling about the inference is referred to as the problem of induction. It is widely recognized that any rational defence of induction will have to partition well-behaved properties for which the inference is plausible (often called projectable properties) from badly behaved ones for which t is not. It is also recognized that actual inductive habits are more complex than those of simple and science pay attention to such factors as variations within the sample of giving ‘us’ the evidence, the application of ancillary beliefs about the order of nature, and so on. Nevertheless, the fundamental problem remains that any experience shows ‘us’ only events occurring within a very restricted part of the vast spatial temporal order about which we then come to believe things.
All the same, the classical problem of induction is often phrased in terms of finding some reason to expect that nature is uniform. In Fact, Fiction and Forecast (1954) Goodman showed that we need in addition some reason for preferring some uniformities to others, for without such a selection the uniformity of nature is vacuous. Thus, suppose that all examined emeralds have been green. Uniformity would lead ‘us’ to expect that future emeralds will be green as well. But now we define a predicate grue: ‘χ’ is trued if and only if ‘χ’ is examined before time ‘T’ and is green, or ‘χ’ is examined after ‘T’ and is blue? Let ’T’ refer to some time around the present. Then if newly examined emeralds are like previous ones in respect of being grue, they will be blue. We prefer blueness a basis of prediction to gluiness, but why?
Goodman argued that although his new predicate appears to be gerrymandered, and itself involves a reference to a difference, this is just aparohial or language-relative judgement, there being no language-independent standard of similarity to which to appeal. Other philosophers have not been convince by this degree of linguistic relativism. What remains clear that the possibility of these ‘bent’ predicates put a decisive obstacle in face of purely logical and syntactical approaches to problems of ‘confirmation?’.
Nevertheless, in the potential of change we are to think up to the present time but although virtue epistemology has good initial plausibility, we are faced apart by some substantial objections. The first of an objection, which virtue epistemology face is a version of the generality problem. We may understand the problem more clearly if we were to consider the following criterion for justified belief, which results from our explanation of (J):
(J ʹ) ‘S’ is justified in believing that ‘p’ if and entirely if.
(1) there is a field ‘F’ and a set of circumstances ‘C’ such that
(a) ‘S’ is in ‘C’ with respect to the proposition that ‘p’, and
(b) ‘S’ is in ‘C’ with respect to the proposition that ‘p’, and
(e) If ‘S’ were in ‘C’ with respect to a proposition in ‘F’.
Then ‘S’ would very likely believe correctly with regard to
that proposition.
The problem arises in how we are to select an appropriate ‘F’ and ‘C’. For given any true belief that ‘p’, we can always come up with a field ‘F’ and a set of circumstances ‘C’, such that ‘S’ is perfectly reliable in ‘F’ and ‘C’. For any true belief that ‘p’, let ‘F’s’ be the field including only the propositions ‘p’ and ‘not-p’. Let ‘C’ include whatever circumstances there are which causes ‘p’s’ to be true, together with the circumstanced which causes ‘S’ to believe that ‘p’. Clearly, ‘S’ is perfectly reliable with respect to propositions in this field in these circumstances. But we do not want to say that all of S’s true beliefs are justified for ‘S’. And of course, there is an analogous problem in the other direction of generality. For given any belief that ‘p’, we can always specify a field of propositions ‘F’ and a set of circumstances ‘C’, such that ‘p’ is in ‘F’, ‘S’ is in ‘C’, and ‘S’ is not reliable with respect to propositions in ‘F’ in ‘C’.
Variations of this view have been advanced for both knowledge and justified belief. The first formulation of a reliability account of knowing appeared in a note by F.P. Ramsey (1931), who said that a belief was knowledge if it is true, certain and obtained by a reliable process. P. Unger (1968) suggested that ‘S’ knows that ‘p’ just in case it is not at all accidental that ‘S’ is right about its being the case that ‘p’. D.M. Armstrong (1973) drew an analogy between a thermometer that reliably indicates the temperature and a belief that reliably indicate the truth. Armstrong said that a non-inferential belief qualified as knowledge if the belief has properties that are nominally sufficient for its truth, i.e., guarantee its truth via laws of nature.
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