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The Introduction presents the main theses of this book: that Charles Darwin developed a philosophical theory of emotion, inspired by his reading of several associationist philosophers; that Darwin denied that emotional expressions evolved as social signals, designed to reveal emotions to others; and that Darwin’s theory of emotion has more in common with modern constructionist theories than with modern basic emotions theories, which often claim Darwin as their inspiration.
This chapter surveys associationist theories of emotion leading up to Darwin’s Expression. These theories analyze emotions as sequences of thoughts, feelings, and actions, linked together by principles of association. Thomas Hobbes contributes to this tradition the idea that emotions can be analyzed as “trains of thoughts.” John Locke contributes the idea that these trains are connected by the “association of ideas.” David Hume contributes the idea that association can occur via contiguity, resemblance, or cause and effect. David Hartley puts these ideas together to present the first full-fledged associationist theory of mind and emotion. Harley’s ideas are developed further by Joseph Priestley, Erasmus Darwin (Charles’s grandfather), Thomas Brown, James Mill, Alexander Bain, and Herbert Spencer, among others. This tradition in the philosophy of emotion has never before been described or analyzed.
This chapter examines Darwin’s analysis of emotional expression. It is widely accepted that Darwin wrote Expression to refute Sir Charles Bell’s theory that God created humans with special muscles to express their emotions. However, scholars have overlooked the fact that Bell developed his theory to refute Erasmus Darwin’s associationist analysis of emotional expression, inspired by David Hartley, and that Charles Darwin defends his grandfather’s analysis against Bell’s objections. I demonstrate that Charles’s defense of Erasmus’s associationist theory, which denies that expressions occur for the sake of communicating emotions, explains Charles’s puzzling reluctance to claim that expressions evolved to serve as signals in communication.
Charles Darwin is known as a biologist, geologist, and naturalist, but he was also a philosopher. This book uncovers Darwin's forgotten philosophical theory of emotion, which combines earlier associationist theories with his theory of evolution. The British associationists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries argued that the mind operates primarily through the association of ideas, and that emotions are strings of thoughts, feelings, and outward expressions, connected by habit and association. Charles Darwin's early notebooks on emotion reveal a keen interest in associationist philosophy. This book shows that one of his final works, The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals (1872), is a work of associationist philosophy, and analyzes Darwin's revolutionary idea: that if the associations that produce emotions can be inherited, then the theory of evolution can explain how emotions first occurred in simpler organisms and then developed and were compounded into the complex experiences humans have today.
Scientific and technical expertise, now largely understood as the ultimate source of authoritative knowledge, are vital to how our societies operate. This punchy introduction to thinking about science-society relations draws on research and concepts to argue for the importance of knowing.
The obligation to support space exploration can be defended in at least three ways: (1) the ‘argument from resources,’ that space exploration is useful for amplifying our available resources; (2) the ‘argument from asteroids,’ that space exploration is necessary for protecting the environment and its inhabitants from extraterrestrial threats such as meteorite impacts; and (3) the ‘argument from solar burnout,’ that we are obligated to pursue interstellar colonization in order to ensure long-term human survival. However, even if we accept all three propositions, that space exploration will give us access to asteroidal and other resources; will allow us to defend ourselves against meteorites (by intercepting or destroying them); and finally that interstellar colonization might be useful in saving us from solar burnout, it does not follow that we have an obligation to do any of those things. What follows is that we have reasons to take those actions as practical measures that will bring about the ends in question. But no obligation per se arises from the fact that those measures will be helpful in attaining those ends.
The Project Orion spacecraft is by common consent the craziest interstellar flight concept ever devised. Ironically, it was also the spacecraft design that received the widest support by scientists, the military and other branches of the US government, as well as by private industry. It was as if all of these people had collectively lost their minds. The basic idea was utterly simple and so intuitively obvious that it could be understood by a child. This was a craft whose propulsion system was built upon the Newtonian principle of action and reaction. The central notion was that of placing a bomb under a rocket and then detonating it to loft the rocket up and away – exactly the same process as putting a firecracker under a tin can and watching it blow sky high. To keep it going up, of course, a series of bombs detonated in sequence would be required. And so the Orion rocket would be propelled through space by a stream of bombs, in fact nuclear bombs, exploding one after another behind it, thereby continuously accelerating the craft. That was the project’s key concept, and as such it was simultaneously perfect and insane.
The chapter describes three iconic interstellar travel vehicles: the Bernal sphere, the Bussard Interstellar Ramjet, and Project Daedalus. Nobody took the Bernal sphere seriously. The Bussard vehicle would not work as intended, and the Daedalus vehicle lacked a credible propulsion system. The principal difficulty with star travel is that the stars are very far away, at distances measured in light years.
Let us optimistically assume that sooner or later a workable interstellar propulsion system will be found, and also be built and successfully tested in space. While this would be a great advance toward making interstellar travel possible, it nevertheless does not automatically follow that a voyage to the stars will in fact be attempted. There are a few other issues that must also be settled first: for example, a habitable exoplanet must be identified. It must be suitable for human colonization and ought to be a reachable distance away from Earth within a reasonable period of travel time. Second, engineers must provide a plausible space vehicle design architecture, and a spacecraft of that design must then be constructed, and tested successfully. Such a craft does not exist as yet, one among many reasons being that the specifications for it depend in turn upon the size and makeup of the likely boarding population. But both of those factors are still unknown. In addition, and perhaps most important of all, an unprecedented level of funding and resources must be allocated to the project.
This, then, was the final culmination of a succession of dreams that had emerged progressively in 11 steps or stages that had begun in antiquity. In logical order, the several steps were from: (1) the birth of ancient Greek and other myths of flight, to (2) proposals for machines that would make flight possible by mimicking the flapping wings of birds, to (3) actual attempts at human flight, to (4) successful human flight through the air by means of balloons, to (5) powered, controlled, sustained human flight through the atmosphere by winged vehicles, to (6) fictional accounts of flying to the Moon, to (7) the invention of rockets leading to an understanding of the principles of space flight, to (8) the Apollo Project Moon landings, to (9) fictional accounts of traveling to Mars, to (10) actual landings on Mars by rockets and robotic rovers, to (11) the idea of leaving Earth and colonizing the universe.
DARPA and NASA had jointly realized that nobody in their right mind formulated plans and undertook projects on anything like the 100-year time horizon that they thought was needed to design, build, outfit, and launch a crewed interstellar vehicle. So they wanted to seed-fund some private organization to do so, and for an essentially backdoor reason: namely to reap whatever possible spinoff technologies might accrue from such an endeavor. “DARPA also anticipates that the advancements achieved by such technologies will have substantial relevance to Department of Defense (DoD) mission areas including propulsion, energy storage, biology/life support, computing, structures, navigation, and others.”