How many objects are in the above box? I say three (the ‘particles’ named A, B, and C), which makes me a nihilist about composition. The universalist says seven (A+B, A+C, B+C, and so on). See Ross & Dorr’s “Composition as a Fiction” for further explanation.
If this seems ‘dumbed down,’ it’s because I’ve erred on the side of over-explanation. If anything is unclear, or otherwise seems not to work, please let me know via email or comment.
In his impressive book, Material Beings, Peter van Inwagen argues in favor of an organicist theory of composition, in which the only things that count as composites are living organisms. This is to say, then, that mugs, tables, automobiles, and other things we usually take to be objects don’t actually exist; instead, the only things that exist are organisms and simples (i.e., non-composite, and thus part-less, indivisible particles). In this paper, I intend to challenge this line of thinking, and will argue instead in favor of compositional nihilism (a.k.a., ‘mereological nihilism’), a view in which organisms exist no more than do artifacts, heavenly bodies, or anything else that isn’t a simple.
I will focus especially on van Inwagen’s foundational claim that at least one composite exists: the self-reflective, thinking human being. This claim arises out of the inconceivability of thinking being a cooperative activity among a non-composite collection of particles — particularly if those particles have a unified experience such that leads to the thought, “I exist.” Before addressing van Inwagen’s position, I will first explain what I mean by compositional nihilism. Continue Reading →
One of my least favorite argumentative tactics is when an interlocutor concocts a metaphor of limited reach, and then, in an ad hoc effort to save face, explodes the metaphor (as I call it) by over-straining it. The result is an unfortunate reductio ad absurdum of the interlocutor’s own making. One way to defuse such a situation is to call the exploder’s bluff.
Jack: “Lots of music doesn’t work because it lacks a good solid framework to hold it together. Music is like architecture. You have to construct a sturdy framework, then you can proceed to build the building.”
Margie: “Ok… That’s a nice metaphor, but not all music has to be that way. I mean, music isn’t really like architecture. The physical laws that hold up a building, and thus impose certain restrictions on architects and engineers, don’t apply to music.” Continue Reading →
In his book, Philosophical Explanations, in the chapter“Knowledge and Skepticism,” Robert Nozick endeavors to construct a set of conditions that are jointly sufficient for knowledge. Let’s call this the ‘truth-tracking’ account of knowledge. Truth-tracking is meant to deal with a range of hard epistemological cases, including Getter-style problems and Brain-in-the-Vat-style skeptical arguments. In this paper, I aim to show that, while Nozick’s truth-tracking account doesn’t succeed as a whole (largely for reasons noted by Saul Kripke), the driving intuition of Nozick’s account may still be relevant to – or even necessary for – any good theory of knowledge. I will refer to this driving intuition as ‘Sensitivity.’ Precisely what I mean by this term will become clearer as we go along.
PART I: Truth-tracking Explained
Nozick begins his project by taking for granted the usual first two conditions for knowledge: (1) p is true; (2) S believes that p. I’ll take these for granted as well. To these he adds a third condition, the subjunctive conditional: (3) If p weren’t true, S wouldn’t believe that p. We may also express this as: ~p□→~SBp.1 I will, however, use such formalisms sparingly, because I want to be semantically clear about what I’m referring to. Nozick also uses ‘closest possible worlds’ semantics to express (3), though is not entirely committed to them.2 I will, however, make use of these. For example: S’s belief should be counterfactually sensitive so that, in the closest worlds where not-p, S wouldn’t mistakenly believe that p. Note that (3) is the heart of Sensitivity, though it doesn’t capture the whole truth-tracking account. To develop that, let’s apply our conditions thus far to some classic hard cases. Continue Reading →
I often wonder: Is suicide really possible? By ‘suicide,’ I mean the intentional taking of one’s own life, which is the standard dictionary definition of the word, but I also mean something slightly deeper than that. I mean it in a sense in which the person chooses death, not because it’s the only option he sees, but because he prefers it to life. Allow me to illustrate with a familiar scene.
A man stands before the frame of an open window, looking down from several stories up. He was driven there by the smoke and flames of a fire that continues to rage towards him. He must choose: fall or fire? The choice soon becomes obvious, but, of course, there is no real choice here, regardless of the man’s intention to live or die.
Perhaps all suicides are like this, but not always obviously so. Perhaps many so-called suicides result from a complex array of tiny, barely perceptible forces that, as they accumulate, inch their victim day by day closer to the moment in question. When that day comes, the victim, overwhelmed, blinded, and choked by the now massive firestorm that envelopes him, sees only one way out. Continue Reading →
Here’s a thought. If you want to disprove — or at least throw an industrial-sized monkey wrench into — current conceptions of God and the soul, then prove time travel. For time travel, you see, is not compatible with the notion of an indivisible soul, particularly if that soul is en route to an eternal afterlife of punishment or reward.
Think about it. Were you to go back in time five minutes and face yourself, would both of you have your soul? You might come up with some ad hoc solution here, such as the soul actually dwelling outside the body, and being somehow able to perform its metaphysical duties across time and space, and within multiple bodies simultaneously. After all, we go through one body after another in a lifetime, but the soul stays the same, and is what makes today’s me the same person as that bouncy little infant from decades past.
This sort of ad hoc gerrymandering is what got us our present notion of the soul. Over the centuries, serious thinkers have relentlessly tweaked the idea in an attempt to accommodate changing conceptions of God, and in an effort to temper the ever-building discord between ancient theological frameworks and advancements in philosophy and science. Over time, the soul has gone from maybe (or maybe not) immortal, to definitely immortal (thanks, perhaps, to Egyptian influence), and has become the metaphysical explanation for many of our most inscrutable observations about the human situation. Consciousness, perceptual experience, bodily mobility, and personal identity among them.
But such ad-hocery won’t save the time traveler who’d like to posit the soul outside the body. Continue Reading →
There’s been some controversy recently over a study out of Princeton suggesting that we in the U.S. live, not in a democracy, but rather in a system of ‘Economic Elite Domination’ (a.k.a, ‘plutocracy,’ though media reports favor the broader term ‘oligarchy’). Some have responded to this with a, “yeah, no surprise there.” I am among those. But there’s a more troubling story here, one that threatens the core concepts underlying our national identity: Democracy doesn’t exist.
I’m not just saying that democracy merely exists as a socially constructed concept. Nor am I saying it’s merely impossible in practice, due to corruption or what have you. What I am saying is that the concepts we take to be the constitutive elements of democracy are so incoherent, that they don’t compose anything. There are no bones upon which to hang the flesh of our democratic aspirations. And so on.
‘Democracy,’ then, is at most a word used in reference to a confused, jumbled mass of incoherent ideas.
To fix this, we need to straighten out and align our concepts. Here are some of the problems in our way. I’m not attempting to solve these here, nor am I arguing for or against democracy in practice or as an ideal. That would be a much larger work, indeed.1 I will disclose, however, that I tend to favor a restricted form of democracy (a term I use, as most of us do, for lack of a better one) and, for what it’s worth, I tend to favor market socialism.
That said, here’s some of the stuff I think about — that gnaws at me – when confronted with the word ‘democracy.’
Here’s an interesting case: A deaf couple decide they’d like to have a deaf baby, and manage to do so — twice, in fact – by enlisting a sperm donor with five generations of congenital deafness.
Did this couple do something wrong by – to paraphrase Alta Charo, a professor of law and bioethics — failing to reasonably maximize the advantages available to their children, thus setting limits on their children’s potential? Or did they do something right, or at least well within their ‘natural’ rights, by producing offspring most suited to the sociocultural context they know best, thus producing the circumstances most conducive to their being good parents? As one of the parents put it: “A hearing baby would be a blessing. A deaf baby would be a special blessing.”
The initial response that most of us have, it seems, is that these parents committed a moral misstep by shortchanging their children. I’m not so sure that this is the correct response. Before coming to anything like a firm conclusion, here are ten challenges to which we’d need to subject our intuitions. Continue Reading →
This is a revised version of an article that originally appeared in the Spring 2014 edition of The Gadfly, Columbia University’s undergraduate philosophy magazine.
Are you a computer simulation? Oxford-based philosopher Nick Bostrom argues that it’s highly probable that you are. And a team of physicists have recently cited empirical evidence suggesting that you might be. I think most of us would file this topic under Fun to Think About, but the simulation hypothesis is coming from the sorts of thinkers we’re supposed to take seriously, and has been getting attention from mainstream news sources, most recently the New York Times. It’s generally reported with at least a face-saving dose of decide-for-yourself skepticism, but, still, I think that the argument’s growing popularity merits it at least a little serious weighing in from the philosophical community ― particularly in an era where it’s becoming a kind of moral transgression to “deny science” (whatever that really means) or even to not “fucking love science” (whatever that means). That said, let’s consider whether the simulation argument is as convincing as its many supporters make it out to be. (It’s not.)
As I’ve mentioned here before, I recorded an album back in 2001 called Verbum Sap, which to this day has not been officially released. It was recorded on Hi8 digital tape (on a Tascam DA38, 8-track recorder), in the worst recording environment I’ve ever worked in: a basement apartment with with small rooms and a low metal ceiling. Plus, my instruments were mostly cheap, and, most importantly, I had no idea was I was doing as an engineer. So, it sounded pretty bad.
Flash-forward to January of 2014. While on winter break from school, I finally mixed the thing, with the help of the very talented Nicholas Howard, who worked for several weeks as my assistant, thanks to his incorporating the project into his winter Field Work Term for Bennington College. Nicholas was a pleasure to work with, and made the job easier and more enjoyable.
Mixing Verbum Sap mostly consisted of high-pass filtering and scooping out mud. It’s amazing what you can do with a good EQ plugin (Sonalksis, for example). I also added in some reverb and a few other effects here and there, but for the most part this is a pretty dry recording. It was made during a period when I was most interested in filling out my arrangements by layering nylon guitars and my voice, the timbre and phrasing of which I can no longer duplicate.
I won’t say much more about it than that; you can hear it for yourself when it’s released, most likely before the end of summer. That’s the album cover, above left. The artwork was made by my good friend Joseph Derr back when I first recorded the album.
Next up was for Nicholas and I to work on something new. I played him several ideas, and he chose a song called “Listen,” for which I’d already recorded piano and vocals. We added several new instruments; it’s still not done, but it’s coming along quite satisfactorily. That’s Nicholas on the right, messing with timpani samples.
I haven’t released any new music in a long time, largely because I’ve been busy with school, but I do have a couple of albums worth of new material at varying degrees of completion. My current plan is to record this stuff over the next year, so that I’m ready to release at least one, if not two albums (perhaps within six months of each other), in spring or summer of 2015. I’ll split the album up more or less according to stylistic commonalities, or lack thereof. That is, one of these will be quite stylistically varied, while the other will be more consistent in tone. I think.
At any rate, I’ll be taking my time with these recordings. In the meanwhile, I’ll be finishing up my philosophy degree, continuing to acquaint myself with New York City, trying to make a living, and doing lots and lots of writing (one of these days I’ll start sharing some of it here). Oh, and, starting this semester, I’m Editor-in-Chief of The Gadfly, Columbia University’s Undergraduate Philosophy Magazine. It’s yet more work, but the good kind.
This article, which deals with the relationship of failure to philosophy, originally appeared inThe Gadfly (Columbia University’s Philosophy Magazine). The images are of an architectural model that is not executable at the size of a building, yet represents the sorts of unattainable ideals that inform the design of buildings; designed and constructed by Sandra Bonito.
One way of viewing the history of Western philosophy is as a gradual separating out of questions that are essentially empirical in nature from those that aren’t; the former constitutes today’s science, the latter what we currently think of as philosophy. While trust in the explanatory power of science has grown, philosophy has come to be seen as increasingly unreliable in what it can tell us about the world. This, however, is to miscast philosophy based on a scientific model. Indeed, once a philosophical question becomes addressable by a scientific method of falsification, it has moved over into the domain of science.
Philosophy as a field is largely made up of questions that have yet to, or never will, move over to the scientific domain. As such, it’s philosophy’s task to ask questions that current science isn’t prepared to ask, much less test, though it’s even more than this. The claim that I’ll ultimately be working to unfold here, as I explore various notions of failure in relation to philosophy, is that at the bottom of any field there is a level of conception, and when one works at this level, philosophy is happening, and science-like falsification does not play a role. Continue Reading →