Metaphysicians, ethical theorists and philosophers of law squabble endlessly about what it is for a person to act — or perhaps even to ‘will’ — more or less freely. A vital issue in this controversy is how we should analyse two obvious but surprisingly problematical contrasts. The first antithesis is between things we do because we are forced, and deeds we perform because we want to — sometimes after having discovered preponderant reasons in their favour. The other polarity is more general. In most situations, if I act on my desire, I act more freely than if I had not had the desire. But what if my attitude is the product of childhood conditioning — or later brainwashing, brain surgery, hypnosis, behaviour modification, alcoholisim, narcotics addiction, neurosis, psychosis or worse? Then isn't my autonomy diminished? What is it about these latter desires, or their origin, that differentiates them from their unthreatening congeners?

Is capitalist production unjust? It is easy to think, upon first reading Marx, that he answers this question in the affirmative. And I shall argue that this naive reading is correct. This needs to be argued, however, for a more careful scrutiny of Marx's writings reveals passages in which he seems to call capitalist production just or fair. Relying upon these passages, Robert Tucker and Allen W. Wood have urged that, in Wood's words,

What Marx regarded as false and mystified, however, is not the practice of assessing social institutions as just or unjust, but rather the picture of those institutions, and especially of capitalist production, to be found in bourgeois ideology.

“The confusion of a logical with a real predicate,” according to the Critique of Pure Reason, “is almost beyond correction” (A598/B626). Kant did not assert that existence is no predicate, but that it is only a “logical” one, and not a “real” one. Much the same thing has been said about identity, although Kant himself thought it is real and not logical. We have long lacked a rigorous criterion to distinguish real from logical predicates, and hence have not been able to say why the difference matters. This paper has two objects. First it provides a demarcation between real and logical predicates that confirms Kant's dictum that existence is only “logical.” Secondly it states the theory of a “logical” (but not “real”) relation of identity. Perhaps this is not the only identity relation. I show only that once it has been precisely defined in the right setting, there are definite answers to a number of disputed questions about identity. Maybe there are other concepts of identity for which different answers are to be given, but I shall not discuss that disagreeable prospect here. A third application concerns the ontological argument.

Geach has claimed that Frege had an insight about number which should have led him to the doctrine of relative identity:

Interest has recently been shown in causal theories of perception, memory, inference, reference, truth, justification and belief, as well as in a more general “causal theory of knowledge” which would embrace and connect all of these concepts within a broad epistemological framework. The burden of this paper is that prospects are poor for an interesting and general enough causal theory of knowledge. A threat to generality arises from the causal theory's difficulties with knowledge of general truths. A threat to interest arises when attempts to accommodate general truths lead to a weakening of the notion of “causal connection” appealed to, making dubious the explanatory force of such an appeal.

The subject of time travel has been receiving increasing attention in the recent philosophical literature. Most of the articles that deal with it have been concerned to defend the logical consistency of time travel against those who claim that it entails one or more contradictions. Two sorts of defences have been offered. The first sort of defence involves showing that time travel does not entail those consequences which other philosophers allege it does entail. The second sort of defence involves an admission that time travel does indeed involve that which its opponents allege it does involve, e.g., being in more than one place at a time, but arguing that such consequences in no way vitiate the logical consistency of this notion.

My first aim in this paper is to provide a defence of time travel of the second sort. More specifically, I want to cut the ground from under an argument which might run thus:

There has been a revival of interest in Hegel of late among English-speaking philosophers. Although he is still regarded as maddeningly obscure, a number of important philosophers (including Quine, Sellars, Feyerabend and Rorty) have been attracted by a doctrine prominently associated with Hegel, the coherence theory of truth. In order to hold the coherence theory of truth, it is obvious that you must hold what might be called the coherence theory of truth-testing as well: for if this theory is wrong and we can test some statements (even if only in part) by, for example, introspection as well as in terms of coherence, truth must involve something more than just coherence. My arguments against the coherence theory of truth-testing, since it is implied by the coherence theory proper, are indirectly against the coherence theory as well. I also argue that unless some version of the Private Language Argument is successful, it is virtually impossible to defend the coherence theory of truth-testing (and hence the coherence theory proper) without denying the existence of experiences, thereby committing oneself to materialism.

That's what I reckon morality is all about — how to preach, not how to act. My aim is not to answer this question of how to preach (except in the broadest outlines). I want to defend the claim that it is the, or at least a, central problem of ethics: that it is in fact the problem of what moral principles to accept.

My argument consists of an account of what is involved in accepting a moral principle. By a moral principle I mean a kind of principle about how people should act. Moral principles are not the only principles you can have about how people should act. There are principles of prudence, or rational self-interest. There are aesthetic principles, such as might be expressed in a remark like “you shouldn't put a magenta cushion on a scarlet sofa”. There are principles of etiquette. And no doubt there are others. I develop my account of morality by asking what distinguishes moral principles from the rest.

For quite a long time now I have argued against the view, widely held, and forcefully expounded by John Burnet, that at Phaedo 102b2-d2 Plato is formulating the notion of essential attribute and contrasting essence with accident. I have claimed that the essence-accident contrast is absent from that passage. This is a view that others have also held. But I have since 1950 found in that passage (as well as in some preceding ones) a formidable theory of relations. Recently, Professor David Gallop has taken me to task for my heterodoxy. His reaction is overwhelming:

Gallop's paper is very tantalizing. Although he establishes neither A nor B, he does offer a series of very extraordinary arguments, whose examination reveals the depth of Plato's thinking on relations.

Many philosophers have claimed possible worlds semantics is incoherent because of insoluble problems involved in the notion of identifying a single individual in different worlds. One frequent approach to trans-world identification has been to assume that all the possible worlds, complete with their populations, are described by means of qualities alone prior to our considering the question of identification of the same individual in each world in which it exists. If we interpret possible worlds semantics in this way, trans-world identification could only be accomplished on the basis of some properties the individual has uniquely in every world in which it exists. This becomes problematic since the individual doesn't have the same properties in every world. In ‘Naming and Necessity’ and ‘Identity and Necessity’ Saul Kripke rejects such an account of both possible worlds and trans-world identification, developing an alternative interpretation of the new semantics. His approach involves a distinction between referring expressions which designate different individuals in different worlds according to the distribution of properties within each world and referring expressions which designate the same individual in every world.

At least since Descartes's Meditations philosophers in the West have been concerned to defend the rationality of our beliefs from the threat of epistemological skepticism. The idea that there might be nothing which we know, or more radically, which we have even the slightest reason to believe, is one that many philosophers have thought to be deserving of serious attention. It seems somewhat odd, therefore, that there has not been similar attention given to what one might call practical skepticism. Is it not also possible that there is nothing which we have even the slightest reason to do? Of course, there is a sense in which epistemological skepticism might be thought to be the more basic problem. If there is nothing which we have any reason to believe, then it will follow that there is nothing which we have any reason to do. If some proposition is a reason that we have for doing something it must at least be the case that we have some reason to believe that proposition. But is practical skepticism merely a species of epistemological skepticism? I doubt it.

As a philosopher working in the area of education, I believe Samuel Bowles’ and Herbert Gintis’ recent book, Schooling in Capitalist America1 to be an important work. I believe it to be important first of all for the concrete ideas it raises about education in the history and present reality of American society. Secondly, it serves as an excellent example in a lesson in what philosophy, both philosophy of education, and philosophy generally, ought to become. In particular, by contrasting this work in its conclusions and methods with other works in mainstream contemporary philosophy of education, I believe we can see more clearly certain defects in contemporary philosophy of education, which apply also to other fields in philosophy. To accomplish this goal, I would like first of all to summarize the book itself.

The aim of Schooling in Capitalist America is to expose many of those self-deceptions which our society has about itself and its educational system.

In replying to my criticism of his interpretation of this passage, Professor H-N. Castañeda has disregarded much of my argument. In particular, he has ignored my contention that a contrast between 'essential’ and ‘accidental’ predication is integral to the wider argument for immortality in which Phaedo 102b-d is embedded. This would remain the case whatever the grammar of 102b-c, and whatever the exact force of πεφυxέναι and τυγχάνει at 102c1-2. Further, Castañeda pays no heed to the difficulty of interpreting Plato's other relational examples in his way, given that no analysis parallel to that of 102b-d is anywhere hinted at for them. Moreover, he disregards the difficulty that several other examples in the nearby context are analysed in terms of the Theory of Forms, and yet are not overtly ‘relational’ in the usual sense at all.

Castañeda says (note 12) that it is ‘clear’ from my own translation of several passages (72e6, 103e7, 109d4, 110b2, 111c2, etc.) that τυΥχάνει in the Phaedo ‘has nothing to do with accident.’

In “Naming and Necessity” Saul Kripke describes some cases which, he claims, provide counterexamples both to cluster theories and, more generally, to description theories of proper names. My view of these cases is that while they do not provide counterexamples to cluster theories, they can be used to provide evidence against single-description theories. (I count as single-description theories both “short-for-descriptions” theories of the Frege-Russell sort and what I shall call below “fixed-by-attributes” theories.) In this paper I shall defend both of the claims involved in my view.

Depuis que le structuralisme a franchi le seuil de Ia mode et que l'on parle maintenant volontiers d’ une ère post-structuraliste, le moment se prête davantage à une réflexion philosophique et critique sur ce type d'épistémè qui a pratiquement envahi tout le champ des sciences humaines. Quoique le structuralisme ait été une mode, et une mode qui a réussi, selon l'expression de Raymond Boudon,1 il reste toutefois encore difficile d'apprécier ses succès dans des travaux comme ceux de Foucault, d'Aithusser, de Barthes ou de Lacan. Là où cependant le succès est le plus évident c'est du côté des sciences sociales, en particulier du côté de Ia linguistique et de l'anthropologie.

Histories of philosophy frequently depict the later eleventh century as the scene of a series of bouts between dialecticians and anti-dialecticians — Berengar vs. Lanfranc, Roscelin vs. Anselm — preliminaries to the twelfth century welterweight contest between Abelard and St. Bernard and — dare one say? — the thirteenth century heavy-weight championship between St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure.

The bouts took place — no question about that — but whether the contestants can properly be characterized as dialecticians and anti-dialecticians is less certain. Dialectics is logic, the third part of the trivium, and increasingly cultivated in the eleventh century; men like Berengar and Roscelin were plainly eager to apply the logical tools with which they had been equipped to the solution of intellectual problems. In particular they undertook the solution of certain central problems of theology — Berengar that of the Eucharist and Roscelin that of the Trinity — and it was this, we are told, that aroused the ire of the anti-dialecticians: if the aim of the dialecticians was to lay bare the mysteries of faith to the light of reason that of the anti-dialecticians was to protect those same mysteries from profanation.

The problem of the Cartesian Circle has been with us ever since the publication of the Meditations. This is quite remarkable, since the error of circularity which Descartes is accused of having committed is not a subtle one but is, if there is such an error, a gigantic blunder which is not difficult to discover, which was pointed out to Descartes shortly after the Meditations appeared, and which completely undermines Descartes’ primary project, the establishment of sure and certain knowledge. It is incredible that Descartes, a slow and careful thinker with considerable philosophical talent, could have made such an obvious and egregious error. It is much more plausible that there really is no circularity in Descartes’ argument, and that the charges of circularity grow out of a misunderstanding of Descartes’ intention or of the way in which his argument progresses.

The incredible, of course, is possible, and I am not proposing that the question of the circle be resolved merely by dismissing it, nor am I suggesting that the text be ignored in order to force consistency onto Descartes’ thought.

In his “Two Kinds of Moral Reasoning; Ethical Egoism as a Moral Theory”, Jesse Kalin defines ethical egoism as “the position that a person ought, all things considered, to do an action if and only if that action is in his overall self-interest”, by which he means that each person is ‘rationally justified in’ or ‘has conclusive reasons for’ acting thus, and not that ‘it is good', or that ‘it is desirable', or that ‘it conduces to any intrinsically desirable state of affairs', for each to act only self-interestedly.

In this way, Kalin seeks to formulate an egoism which he takes to be rational, insofar as, in the interests of consistency, the egoist holds a principle applicable to all, and yet is not committed, ex hypothesi, to valuing collective goods or states of affairs which would tend to compromise his own interests (e.g. everyone's actually acting egoistically).

Recently it has been argued that there are genuine moral dilemmas and that any theory which does not account for this fact is an unrealistic one. This represents a challenge to an assumption that most moral theorists have held: an adequate ethical theory must not allow for genuine moral quandaries. John Stuart Mill, for example, in the last paragraph of the second chapter of Utilitarianism, seems to be committed to such an assumption. Many others have also assented to this view. The consensus among those who hold this view seems to be that if a theory allows for moral dilemmas then there is some sense in which it is incoherent or inconsistent. Yet, oddly enough, the sense in which such a view would be incoherent is rarely, if ever, spelled out. Put another way, there seem to be no arguments for the belief that genuine moral dilemmas must be ruled out.

Locke often writes that our knowledge is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas. For example, he refers to “our Knowledge consisting in the perception of the Agreement, or Disagreement of any two Ideas” in the second chapter of the Essay's book on knowledge (4.2.15). Similarly, at the beginning of this book he characterizes knowledge as “the perception of the connexion and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy of any of our Ideas” (4.1.2). Since commentators remark on this formula so frequently, one would expect that major questions about its interpretation would have been settled long ago. But not so. Controversy still prevails about Locke's intent, and especially about his assumption that the knowledge of the existence of real things counts as an instance of the perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas (4.1.3,7).

Scholars have put forward two sorts of problems about the attempted assimilation of knowledge of real existence to Locke's formula.