And now for the intriguing case of Rachel Dolezal, the Spokane, Washington NAACP leader who was born white, but identifies and represents herself as black. This was working well for her — she’s been passing as black for years, apparently — until a few days ago, when her biological parents outed her. [Update: She announced her resignation as NAACP chapter president on 6/15/15.]
This controversial story has sparked important, hopefully long-enduring, discussions about the ramifications of race’s status as a social construct. If it is a social construct, some argue (often as a bluff-calling dig at Caitlyn Jenner supporters; more on that below), then Dolezal’s performance as a black woman should be respected as an authentic expression of the space she occupies in society.
But this is wrong. Even if race is a social construct (which it is), this doesn’t mean that Dolezal’s self-identification as black must be honored. Society, through its collective thought and activities, determines the conditions of race identification. She is not society. Continue Reading →
I often find myself wondering with fascination about the role experience plays in shaping our conception of the world. Recently, I was inspired to think about repetition in this context. That is, we have a deep sense that there are repeating events. But such a thing must be true only in experience, given that any event is, in some way, distinct from all others. Put another way, any event is only identical to itself. At the same time, repetition often has great significance for us, a significance that seems to touch on something true about the world independent of human experience.
Here are some brief musings on the relation between ‘event repetition,’ experience, and our world-conception. What there is to be learned here, I’m not sure. Yet I find myself drawn to this line of inquiry, and do get a fuzzy sense that there is something to be gained from reflecting on it.* Perhaps a deeper investigation into event repetition — both perceptually experienced and not — could reveal useful tidbits for when dealing with bigger questions, such as those related to cognitive biases, social interaction (e.g., stereotyping), experience of ‘objects’ over time, cyclical brain-states (e.g., meditation, sleep), evolutionary psychology, personalized medicine, sense of self in the context of personal identity over time (more on this below, in Part II), and induction (experiment repeatability).
There are also moral implications to this that, I think, lend support to a particularist notion of morality: any moral event is only identical to itself. So, to know (or understand) that an event is wrong, is to know something about that particular event. This would be distinct from what I take to be a less useful (though still nice to have), general knowledge about broader categories of moral events, which have particular events as members. I’m saving that discussion for another day, however.
[*I began thinking about this topic after being asked to contribute to a newly founded magazine whose first issue was going to be broadly themed on ‘pulse.’ I drafted notes on two occasions, here presented as Parts I and II (neither of which was finalized, because the magazine folded before publication). Part I is a straightforward survey of the subject. Part II, written one morning while bleary-eyed and half-asleep, is stylized as a kind of letter inviting the reader to think of herself or himself as a series of non-identical, though significantly related, events — as a pulse.] Continue Reading →
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.
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 simples (i.e., non-composite, and thus part-less, indivisible particles) and organisms. 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 the only things that have objective existence, strictly speaking, are simples. On this view, organisms exist no more than do artifacts, heavenly bodies, or anything else that is not 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 for – or even necessary for – any good theory of knowledge. I will refer to this driving intuition as ‘Sensitivity.’ 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 in Lewisian language as ~p□→~(SBp).1 I will, however, avoid such formalisms, because I want to be semantically clear about what I’m referring to. Nozick also uses ‘possible worlds’ semantics to express (3), though is not committed to such expressions.2 I will 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.
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.)