Virtually all philosophers now agree that human beings - and possibly the higher animals - have moral rights in some sense, both special rights against individuals to whom they stand in a special relation (such as a creditor's right to collect from a debtor), and general rights, against everybody or against the government, just in virtue of their human nature. Some philosophers also think, however, that anyone who is a utilitarian ought not to share this view: there is a fundamental incompatibility between utilitarinism and human rights. Most utilitarians, of course, have not thought there is such an incompatibility. John Stuart Mill, for instance, espoused utilitarianism at the same time that he defended rights to free speech and freedom of action except where it injures others. In what follows I wish to explore some reasons recently put forward to show that the utilitarian who wishes to affirm that there are moral rights faces a serious logical problem; and I shall argue that further analysis shows the alleged difficulty is unreal.

Relevantism, as a matter of definition, rejects classical logic as incorrect and adopts instead a relevant logic as encapsulating correct inference. It rejects classical logic on the grounds that the rule of Material Detachment, from A and not A or B to infer B, (that is, Disjunctive Syllogism considered as an inferential principle), sometimes leads from truth to falsity. Relevantism — although promoted by some relevant logicians (Routley and Routley), and an integral part of ultralogic (i.e. universal, all purpose, ultramodallogic; cf. [1], [8]) — has recently encountered heavy, but interesting, criticism from relevance logicians themselves (from Belnap, Dunn, and Meyer).

David Lewis criticizes an argument I put forward against mechansim on the grounds that I fail to distinguish between OL, Lucas's ordinary potential arithmetic output, and OML, Lucas's arithmetical output when accused of being some particular machine M; and correspondingly, between OM the ordinary potential arithmetic output of the machine M, and ONM, the arithmetic output of the machine M when accused of being a particular machine N. For any given machine, M, N, O, P, Q, R,... etc., I can in principle (my critics are often very charitable in speaking as though I could in practice, but let me revert to an ideal mind) calculate a Godel sentence for that machine - indeed infinitely many, depending on the Godel numbering scheme adopted. The Godel sentence of a particular machine can, I claim, be seen to be true, if that machine is adequate for Elementary Peano Arithmetic. Hence, if I were accused of being M, I can on that supposition see that the Godel sentence of M is true, since I am capable of Elementary Peano Arithmetic and the machine M is said to be an adequate characterization of me.

In the Passion of the Soul Descartes sets out to explain the origins and structure of intentional voluntary action, to give an account of physical behavior and motion that (in some sense) has psychological and intellectual causes.

Actually of course this is not at all what he says. He announces an analysis of the passions of the soul. But why does he define his subject as he does? His correspondence had forced a concern with questions of virtue. How is he to introduce an account of virtue in his metaphysically, scientifically oriented philosophy of mind, a theory which must accommodate his normative epistemology on one hand and his mechanistic physiological psychology on the other? Other pressures forced closely related questions. Just what is the character of the ‘substantial’ union of mind and body? What is the psychological status of perception, and what are the relations among various types of perceptions? It is these questions that Descartes sets out to answer.

In a recent article Robert Paul Wolff has argued that Marx's theory of capitalist exploitation is incorrect, in that its ground is the premiss that labor is the source of all value.1 This, of course, is a well-rehearsed objection to Marx, but Wolff gives it a novel twist. He notes that the defense of this premise in the opening pages of Capital is inadequate, but he is not troubled by this ‘bad argument,’ for he sees Marx's real argument as something else: the (implicit) claim that unless labor is the source of all value, an adequate account of profit is impossible. In other words Marx is seen to be making a transcendental argument: an inquiry into the conditions for the possibility of profit. Wolff proceeds to argue that Marx goes astray here, but not so far astray that a valid transcendental argument, faithful to Marx's essential insight, cannot be charted.

Is it true that utilitarianism can accommodate the modern belief that human beings have certain moral rights against everybody ‘just in virtue of their human nature?’ I should have thought the most a utilitarian could grant was that we had rights just in virtue of the utility of respecting such rights, not just in virtue of our human nature. In fact, that is more like the view Professor Brandt actually supports. What he argues is that there is not the a priori difficulty with the idea of utilitarian moral rights that some philosophers have thought there was. However, I think the possibility of utilitarian moral rights is not the same as the view that we all have human rights against everybody just in virtue of our human nature. As I hear it, ‘just in virtue of our human nature’ is an alternative to a utilitarian basis for rights. I'll return to that.

Professor Card is not disposed to object to the main argument of my paper, which was intended to reply to Professor Lyons’ suggestion that a utilitarian cannot explain how legal rights have moral force, and at the same time to urge that the particular form of utilitarianism espoused by Professor Hare in his recent work does seem to be open to the difficulty Professor Lyons alleges. Professor Card says she is ‘not dissatisfied’ with this reasoning. I suspect that Card views my criticism of Professors Lyons and Hare as part of an in-house squabble among philosophers all of whom have utilitarian leanings of one sort or another; and she is not disposed to intervene in this. She does, however, have serious reservations about utilitarian views of rights in general, and about mine in particular; her paper consists almost entirely of her statement of these reservations. I find her remarks very welcome, since they express some objections which may be widely felt, and a response to which may therefore contribute to philosophers’ thinking about these issues.

The Philosophical search for Natural Kinds is motivated by the hope of finding ontological categories that are independent of our interests. Other requirements, of varying importance, are commonly made of kinds that claim to be natural. But no such categories are to be found. Virtually any kind can be termed ‘natural’ relative to some set of interests and epistemic priorities. Science determines those priorities at any particular stage of its progress, and what kinds are most ‘natural’ in that sense is always a real and lively scientific question. The general philosophical problem of scientific realism is also real; but between the scientific and the metaphysical, the ‘Problem of Natural Kinds’ sits otiose.

Recently a well-known magazine published an article entitled ‘Moral Specialist.’ This article recounts the activities of Russell McIntyre, described by the authors as a theologian and philosopher who specializes in bioethics. McIntyre is routinely consulted by physicians for help in solving ethical problems. He is asked for moral advice on such matters as abortion, euthanasia, and sterilization for teenagers. McIntyre even wears an electronic ‘beeper’ so that when untimely moral quandaries arise he can easily be reached. McIntyre says that ultimately such moral decisions should be made by the people involved — the physician, the patient, and the family. However, he claims that there are still many gray areas in bioethics ‘where it is best to call in an expert for consultation.’

I have four responses to make, the first three very brief and the last not much longer.

On the face of it, it looks as though in attributing rights to people one is saying something about their moral position. This is so for both option-rights and welfare-rights. On H.L.A. Hart's account of rights to freedom, that is exactly what one is doing. One is asserting that those who have the right have a special kind of justification for limiting the freedom of others. On Professor Brandt's view, it appears that attributing a right to someone is just an oblique way of saying something about the moral position of others, and nothing more.

One trend in contemporary discussions of the topic, ‘the meaning of life.’ is to emphasize what might be termed its subjective dimension. That is, it is widely recognized that ‘the meaning of life’ is not something that simply could be presented to an individual, regardless of how he/she felt about it. Thus, for example, Karl Britton has written that we could imagine ‘a featureless god who set before men some goal and somehow drove them to pursue it'; while this would constitute a purpose for human life, it would hardly be sufficient to render life meaningful. ‘The goal would seem arbitrary, senseless: and its pursuit burdensome, souldestroying.’ Similarly, R. W. Hepburn has stated that meaningfulness must indispensably involve value judgment. Any set of conditions presented to us, whether by God, nature, or our fellow humans, constitutes a fact about how the world is; what provides meaningfulness to our lives, on the other hand, must be something which we affirm - something we feel ought to be the case.

The title is an allusion to the fact that, traditionally, propositions have served at least two distinct functions in philosophy, even though these functions have not usually been distinguished. Propositions have been invoked as the ‘meanings’ or ‘intensions’ of sentences and as the objects of propositional attitudes. Thus the proposition that Socrates is wise is the meaning of the English sentence, ‘Socrates is wise,’ and is what Charles believes when he believes that Socrates is wise. ‘Means that’ and ‘believes that’ take the same kind of object. I shall argue, first, that there are two quite different functions here and it takes two quite different kinds of proposition to serve these distinct functions. The second thing I want to do is examine the suggestion that we can treat propositions as sets of possible worlds. There is a serious difficulty here, and so I shall want to turn that idea on its side: I shall define possible worlds as sets of G-propositions (semantical propositions) and then define E-propositions (epistemic propositions) as sets of possible worlds.

Hume said that to have a memory image of some individual, x, is to perceive a ‘faint copy’ of some prior perception of x. This classical view of memory images includes three distinct claims:

It is a remarkable fact that in the past ten years the Philosophical Index shows a mere handful of entries under the heading ‘poverty.’ This is remarkable because of the widespread interest found in the population in general and among philosophers in particular in the identification, analysis, and solution of moral and social problems, and the cultural consensus that poverty is just such a problem. Perhaps the lack of philosophical attention reflects the assumption that there is no conceptual problem with ‘poverty': we all know pretty much what it is, we simply disagree about the principles which can legitmately be implemented to eliminate it. There is some evidence for this in the fact that literature on distributive justice abounds even where the literature on poverty is scarce, and discussions of related issues, such as famine, population ethics, etc., take for granted that the concept of poverty is not problematic.

Chomsky (in syntax) and Davidson (in semantics) have made much of the constraint that speakers’ competence must have a finite base. This base is often supposed to mean a finite axiomatization of beliefs. Section I shows why this is plausible. Section II shows why it is wrong. Section III shows why the semantic constraint is thereby trivialized.

'Finite minds cannot have infinitely many beliefs’ has been taken for a useful truism. A theory of meaning, say, for a language may, for each of its infinitely many sentences, attribute to competent speakers knowledge, in some sense, and so in a corresponding sense belief, about the meaning (or some substitute for it) of that sentence. Our truism seems to force this paradox to immediate and constructive resolution: as finite minds we have a finite view on our language that recognizably entails an infinity of propositions about it.

Locke's main semantic thesis is that words stand for, or signify, ideas. He says this over and over again, though the phraseology he employs varies. In Book III chapter 2 alone we find the following statements of the thesis: (1) ‘ … Words … come to be made use of by Men, as the Signs of their Ideas’ [III.2.1; 405:10-11); (2) The use then of Words, is to be sensible Marks of Ideas; and the Ideas they stand for, are their proper and immediate Signification’ [III.2.1; 405:15-17]; (3) ‘Words in their primary or immediate Signification, stand for nothing, but the Ideas in the Mind of him that uses them’ [III.2.2; 405:21-2]; (4) That then which Words are the Marks of, are the Ideas of the Speaker’ [III.2.2; 405:27-8]; (5) ‘ …

Perhaps the most venerable objection to Descartes’ Meditations is the charge that Descartes argues in a circle when he tries to show that his clear and distinct perceptions are true. Arnauld and others raised this objection to Descartes himself, and Descartes’ reply to them, far from clearing the matter up, seems to be entirely unresponsive to their criticism. There has since grown an enormous literature about what is often called the Cartesian Circle, partly because in interpreting the work of someone as important as Descartes we feel obliged to try to read him so that he is not making a patent blunder, and partly because seeing whether a project like Descartes’ is doomed from the start is of intrinsic philosophical interest. But the size of this literature alone suggests how complex and difficult the interpretative and philosophical issues surrounding the Circle are.