Mind you, I have nothing against the female body except, of course, a huge boner (give me a rim-shot, please!) but everything in its proper context, right? I’m sure some of you will be sorry to hear this, but I intend to keep my website non-porn. Hopefully it will not happen again and I am changing all the passwords I can think of as of writing this.

If any of you visited my site while this was happening I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Or if you were feeling horny at the time I’m happy to have inadvertently provided you with a much needed service.

Kind regards,

Uncle Sketch

It is ‘Everybody Draw Muhammed Day’ today.  In the wake of South Park creators, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, receiving threats on their lives because of their bear-suited Muhammed, quite a few people have taken it upon themselves to all start drawing. Granted, most people draw stick-figures. However, I wanted to make something more of it this time since I already drew a stick-figure on blasphemy day. Now, if it is not obvious by my actions, I fully support the drawing of Muhammed. I support it for a very simple reason; a reason so eloquently explained by Ayaan Hirsi Ali when they interviewed her about the threats against Parker and Stone.

I have protection but there comes a time when if – not just Mr. Parker and Mr. Stone – but if the entertainment business were to take this on and just show how ridiculous this is that there’ll be too many people to threaten. And then I think, at that time, I won’t need protection and the gentlemen who made South Park will also not need protection.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali

For me the key-issue here – on so many levels -  is participation. I wanted to make a cartoon that reflected that. The relationship between the hand-less Muhammed and me as a drawer is mutually participatory. I need to draw him in order to make a point, even though he might kill me for it once I’m done, and he needs me to keep drawing in order to stop me. Likewise the relationship between the Muslim extremists and all of us is mutually participatory. If we do not draw Muhammed en masse – if we let people like Parker, Stone, Hirsi Ali, Westergaard, Van Gogh, Rushdie et al. take all the heat – then we participate in the effectiveness of the threats.

However, the participation runs deeper than that. It always amazes me that Muslim extremists would be angry over a drawing. It amazes me because it shows that they must have no idea what just happened when they saw the cartoon. I’m going to do what magicians must not do – but cartoonists are free to – and reveal the hoax perpetrated upon you. A cartoon – any cartoon – is merely a completely meaningless ink-blot. Yes, like in the Rorschach test, only where Rorschach’s inkblots were designed purposely to really be meaningless, cartoons are designed to hack your brain.

This will be familiar to anyone who has ever spent time pondering Magritte’s “The Treachary of Images.” Underneath the “pipe” Magritte informs us that it is not a pipe. He is quite right. It really isn’t. It is a painting of a pipe. This one is a digital representation of a painting of a pipe. Yet that is a treachery too. Like a good magician Magritte only revealed the little trick in order to pull an even bigger one.

Any image requires the viewer’s unconditional participation. Magritte’s painting was not of a pipe simply because Magritte intended it to be. Magritte’s painting is only of a pipe as long as there is a cooperation between his intentions and our willingness to accommodate them by suspending our disbelief. If we are caught up in the illusion it is because we let ourselves be.

To return then to cartoons. In his magnificent book Understanding Comics Scott McCloud elucidates on the unique ability of a cartoon to be recognisable even when it becomes ridiculously abstract.

In light of our new-found understanding of cartoons and images, a good question – the right question – to ask is did I really draw Muhammed? Well, could I have intended to draw Muhammed given that I have no idea what the man looked like? To what degree did I manage to hack the brain-triggers conducive to making you fool yourself that a few black squiggles are Muhammed? I have heard people make the argument that when drawing Muhammed we should only draw stick-figures and under no circumstances should we include the dreaded bomb.

I disagree. The bomb is now crucial iconography. It ties what would otherwise have just been a cute, little bearded cartoon into our shared cultural background triggering the viewer to recognise my intention. “Ah! There is a bomb! Like Westergaard’s drawing. This drawing was obviously intended to be Muhammed.”

However, given that Westegaard knew as little as I about the real appearances of Muhammed one must wonder what is really being drawn here. I think the answer is that none of us are drawing Muhammed at all. We are all drawing an intricate metaphor. Muhammed in cartoon-form detaches himself ever more from his historical personhood. What he becomes is a graphic personification of collective Islam. When he has a bomb on his head it reflects the volatile temper of the extremists – it says nothing of his historical persona. When he urges me to draw his hands so he can use them to stop me from drawing him, it reflects the irony – an irony lost on the extremists – that their violent reaction toward criticism is precisely what makes us criticise them.

If these extremists had any good sense whatsoever they would rejoice at every drawing of their prophet. They would know that every iconic representation inflates our collective conscious with conventions of ‘Muhammed’ cartoonery until those conventions will make us unable to attempt a drawing of the historical prophet even if we wanted to. Moreover, they would know that their anger only proves that they accepted the drawing as Muhammed and therefore, in their participation, are just as guilty as the artist of blasphemy.

♦

Post-edit 22/05/2010:

My drawing was featured on Friendly Atheist and on the Faroese web-magazine Mess.

I think this is quite awesome.

♦

Except for the occasional sceptic, we all believe that things persist through time (Loux, Readings, p. 321).

Endurantism and perdurantism are the views that temporal persistence of a thing is respectively explained either by its existing wholly and completely at different times or by its having three-dimensional parts at different times, which constitute a four-dimensional whole – or ‘spacetime worm.’ Since these two views arise from two different temporal ontologies, namely that of presentism – only the present exists – and eternalism – time is a dimension on par with the spatial dimensions – I shall treat endurantism and perdurantism as interchangeable with their corresponding ontologies.

Since I am torn on this issue rather than trying to convince the reader I shall devote this essay on an analysis of why perdurantism, which is the view to which I lean the most, appeals to me but why I am still hesitant to embrace it fully.

Scientific Considerations

I should be a perdurantist because I believe that GPS is reliable and that the universe is approximately 13.7 billion years old. The connection to persistence is not immediately obvious. However, both beliefs are reliant on Einstein’s theories of relativity. In his book, Parallel Worlds, Michio Kaku explains how crucial relativity is to the reliability of GPS.

[I]n order to guarantee such incredible accuracy, scientists must calculate slight corrections to Newton’s laws due to relativity, which states that radio waves will be slightly

shifted in frequency as satellites soar in outer space. In fact, if we foolishly discard the corrections due to relativity, then the GPS clocks will run faster each day by 40,000 billions of a second, and the entire system will become unreliable (p. 257).

Likewise other physicists will tell us that at least some of their methods for ascertaining the age of the universe (Kaku mentions three experimental “proofs,” p. 282) are derived from Einstein’s theories. Another iconic example of relativity impinging upon us is the famous experiment conducted by astronomer Arthur Eddington in 1919, which verified that the Sun distorts spacetime around it and thereby deflects rays of light as predicted by Einstein (French, pp. 44-45).

The crux of the matter is that the results of relativity are seemingly so inescapable to anyone living in the 21st century that we all take them more or less for granted. Yet few of us ever follow up on this acquiescence by allowing it metaphysical ramifications. I should perhaps not speak so readily on behalf of everyone else. However, I – for one – am painstakingly aware of my own cognitive blind spots. To be sure, relativity is built around a four-dimensional model of space and time.

The salient question is to what extent it makes sense to ignore the connection between the results and the assumptions that produced them. Loux, while explaining that this connection used to be a common line of perdurantist argument, expeditiously diffuses it again in the same breath.

The claim is that the endurantist account fails to square with our scientific understanding of that world. The claim is that a four-dimensional picture of the world is implied by the physics of relativity theory. Since the idea that time is just another dimension on par with the three spatial dimension leads so naturally to a theory of temporal parts, the claim is that the only way of accommodating our scientific beliefs about ourselves and the world around us is to embrace a perdurantist theory of persistence through time. This line of argument was once quite popular. It is not, however, the one we characteristically meet in recent writings of perdurantists. In part, I suspect, recent perdurantists are sensitive to the very real difficulty of extracting an ontological theory out of the mathematical formalisms of physics; but the more central reason recent perdurantists do not rest their case on facts about scientific theories is that they are anxious to show that our ordinary, prescientific beliefs about the world are not, in fact, at odds with the perdurantists’ talk of temporal parts (Loux, Introduction, p. 243).

Now, I readily concede Loux’ point that it is problematic to extract ontology out of mathematics. I ought to clarify that I am not proposing the reliability of GPS as a persuasive argument for perdurantism nor do I pretend to understand theoretical physics. It is not within this essay’s scope to venture into the quagmire of scientific realism versus instrumentalism. And any philosopher worth her salt knows that one might arrive at a factually correct conclusion by valid inference from false premises. From the fact that certain assumptions make physicist’s numbers add up, nothing need follow about the veracity of those assumptions.

However, my proposal is that if I were to deny four-dimensionality on these grounds simply because I do not care for the metaphysical implications, while still happily retaining other fruits of relativity, it would make me hypocritical at worst and incongruously compartmentalised at best. As such, this is not an argument for perdurantism but an account of its pull on me personally. I feel I ought to accept it – at least tentatively – unless I have a particularly good reason not to, simply for the sake of intellectual integrity. How persuasive this is to anyone else depends whether the person in question shares a similarity in disposition.

Default Intuitions

Let us turn to what Loux’ central reason for casting aside the scientific argument for perdurantism. Throughout ‘Concrete Particulars II’ in Introduction (pp. 230-56) Loux consistently describes endurantism as cohering more than perdurantism with ‘commonsense,’ ‘intuitive conceptions,’ ‘prephilosophical beliefs’ etc. Taking this line of thought further in Readings (pp. 321-29) Loux states:

So endurantists take theirs to be the account of persistence that conforms better to our prephilosophical intuitions. Evidently, perdurantists agree; for whereas endurantists are content merely to state their view, perdurantists feel the need to present arguments on behalf of a temporal parts account of persistence.

This reasoning strikes me as all sorts of odd. An image of a boulder-pushing Sisyphus vividly springs to mind – wherein the very act of increasing his efforts immediately slopes the hill ever so more to his detriment. Surely, any endeavour of philosophy is wrongheaded if the act of arguing one’s view entails a proportional opposition of intuitive common sense. The game-breaking strategy would be to never budge an inch from offering only a ‘says me!’ in one’s favour, since anything more would constitute tacit concession of loss.

Nevertheless – burden of proof aside – it is not simply obvious that Loux is right about our intuitions. At the risk of committing armchair arson and becoming an ‘experimental philosopher’ I asked a few of my non-philosopher friends where they stood on the existence of the past, the present, and the future. While this can hardly be considered statistically significant the divisiveness of their answers was still astounding. The only consistent agreement was on the existence of the present – the oddest answer being the existence of present and future but not the past.

However, appeals to our shared intuitions – though illuminating – do not exert much toll when it comes to the fundamental structure of reality. I am not even convinced by my own intuitions. Although neither would they help Loux since they align themselves with perdurantism to a certain extent.

Past Events

I should be a perdurantist because I believe past events are a matter of fact. Intuitively once something has happened it stays happened. Even if no one remembers it and it imparts no influence on current events, there is still a fact of the matter. This to me can only be sufficiently accounted for by the reality of the past.

An obvious presentist contender would be a very strong determinism – i.e. A determined the occurrence of B, determining C etc. So even if A is long forgotten, we might be able to infer it. However, while determinism is intuitively understandable, it is not so obvious that backwards-working determinism makes sense in a universal context. Consider this by analogy of addition; while adding three to three strongly determines an outcome of six, working our way backwards from six is impossible. The outcome of six could not have been otherwise. But looking back from six we are unable to decide whether the correct six-producing mechanism was indeed three plus three and not, say, five plus one. It is hardly obvious that there is one, and only one, chain of events that could possibly have produced the current state of affairs of our universe.

Yet the mere conceivability of backwards determinism could still serve as a counterexample wedge between my intuition of past events and the requirement of perdurantism. Let us therefore, for the sake of argument, assume backwards determinism. Would that be enough to account for the factuality of past events? I would say no. To return to our alphabetical series, we can imagine that A occurred simultaneously with another event, A² – also producing a simultaneous B². However, at the advent of C, B² somehow failed to produce a C². No event in our second series ever had any interaction with our first series. Even given backwards determinism we would have no way of inferring that A² and B² ever happened.

Fatalism

I should not be a perdurantist because it commits me to fatalism. Now, it is a glaring omission that my preceding considerations said nothing of the future but – not unlike people – dwelt only on the past. Indeed, I am unable to intuitively commit to perdurantism based on the reality of the past because my intuition balks at the notion of an already existing future. Loux would have me believe that I could hold this view in unproblematic consistency.

Consider what we called the growing block theory of time. On that view, reality consists of the past and the present. What counts as the past and present is always changing, so the view is an instance of the A-theory; but as we have seen, the view endorses a four dimensionalist picture of what it calls reality; reality is a four dimensional block that is constantly growing. Within this framework, then, concrete particulars turn out, once again, to be spacetime worms. Accordingly, we once again have a theory of time that is not just compatible with perdurantism; the theory provides a natural home for that theory of persistence (Introduction, p. 235).

However, Loux might have failed to convince himself.

Endurantists will argue, for example, that the perdurantist claim that the spatiotemporal boundaries of a familiar particular are essential to it runs counter to intuitions we all share. We all believe, for example, that it was possible for Winston Churchill to have lived a day longer than he actually did; and we all believe that each of us could, at any time, have been in a place other than the place we actually were in at that time (p. 256).

I am quite convinced though that a growing block cannot be the case. A four-dimensional view of spacetime necessarily entails fatalism. The reason is that growth requires the very time we have done away with literally into empty space. When a three-dimensional block grows it is, according to the perdurantist, a progression through temporal parts of its four-dimensional self. The only way a four-dimensional block could grow would then have to be by progression through temporal parts of yet a higher fifth-dimensional self. One could argue for timeless change but I have no idea what that means.

I now face a dilemma of accommodating all my intuitions. I should not only have to spatialise time but I should also have to introduce yet another dimension – possibly even more. Alternately I could bite the bullet and accept a fatalistic universe – in which case I have no choice in the matter, so I might as well refuse. Incidentally Einstein seems to have taken seriously both the entailments of his theory and the stubbornness of his intuitions.

I am a determinist, compelled to act as if free will existed, because if I wish to live in a civilized society, I must act responsibly. I know philosophically a murderer is not responsible for his crimes, but I prefer not to take tea with him

(Kaku, pp. 154-55)

A Multiplicity of Entities

In a past essay of mine about the teleological argument I said that:

Accepting the actual existence of many worlds in order to escape the existence of God seems arbitrarily discriminatory (unless you are a quantum physicist and therefore believe that there is bona fide evidence for a multiverse).

Similarly I was disinclined to arbitrarily discriminate against only one aspect of relativity – namely four-dimensionality – merely on the grounds of disliking the metaphysical implications. However, turning this on its head I should be disinclined toward perdurantism because it is quite arbitrary to continually populate my ontology with ever more dimensions simply to appease my gluttonous intuitions.

I have argued that my everyday beliefs and intuitions (layman’s scientific and prephilosophical) ought to demand of me perdurantism. However, I have also argued that perdurantism has counter-intuitive implications, which complicate my ontology to accommodate. Ultimately I should like some more tangible evidence of higher dimensions than intuitive reasoning and mathematical convenience before making a metaphysical commitment.

♦

Bibliography

Books:

• French, Steven, Science: Key Concepts in Philosophy (London: Continuum, 2007)
• Kaku, Michio, Parallel Worlds: The Science of Alternative Universes and Our Future in the Cosmos (London: Penguin Books, 2006)
• Loux, Michael J., Metaphysics: A Contemporary Introduction (London: Routledge, third ed., 2006)
• Loux, Michael J. ed., Metaphysics: Contemporary Readings (London: Routledge, 2001)

Websites:

• Experimental Philosophy website, <http://pantheon.yale.edu/~jk762/ExperimentalPhilosophy.html>
• Sepahi, Sketch, Puddles, Black Holes & Fungi, <http://sketchsepahi.com/blog/archives/99>

♦

The defensibility of bundle theory depends on the definition. I shall flesh out a minimal definition and consider three objections, two of which can be handled expeditiously. The third I shall argue is equally a problem for substratum theory, after which I shall attempt a solution based on my own interpretive definition.

♦

Bundle theory is described as concrete particulars – ordinary objects – being constituted of properties. However, this is a broad outline and details vary between presenters. As such ‘bundle theory’ is more an umbrella term of loosely associated theories than a single well-defined theory. It is tempting, therefore, to assert that its defensibility is solely dependent upon – to borrow a phrase from Van Cleve – which ‘unpacking of the ‘bundle’ metaphor’ we are partial to (p. 28). While containing a grain of truth, such a blunt dismissal would nevertheless be premature. However, it is worthy of note since the dance between the theory’s detractors and proponents follows a general pattern.

Ideally detractors should wish to show that certain objections can be raised against any version of bundle theory. Since most are proponents of substratum theory, this usually pans out in attempts at required inclusions of bare substrata. These attempts consist of finding some feature of concrete particulars which cannot be accounted for by mere reduction to properties. The counter step is then taken up by the proponent of bundle theory; usually in an attempt to show that ‘Aha! You failed to consider this particular redefinition, which deftly avoids your objections like so-and-so.’

This makes the dance intricately interesting but unfortunately also renders a definitive analysis nearly impossible.

Sophisticated defenders of the bundle theory do not say that a thing is nothing but a bundle of properties; they say that it is a bundle whose elements all stand to one another in a certain very important relation. Let us call the relation co-instantiation (Van Cleve, p. 29).

The nature of this relation therefore takes centre stage in our considerations. The issue of defining bundle theory (and by extension its defensibility) is compounded by a further schism between realism and nominalism, which effects the applicability of certain objections. Loux, for instance, holds that the ‘Identity of Indiscernibles’ objection applies only to realist versions of bundle theory (p. 97). However, I am more interested in where the objections lead than in our starting point.

So returning to our important relation, it requires elaboration.

[…] however it is labelled, the relation is treated in the same way. It is taken to be an unanalyzable or ontologically primitive relation, but it is explained informally as the relation of occurring together, of being present together, or being located together; and it is always construed as a relation that attributes enter into only contingently (Loux, p. 91).

To make a recap of bundle theory then, it is the proposition that a concrete thing is wholly reducible to attributes and the contingent relation they share by mutual occurrence. In contrast substratum theorists agree with bundle theorists that a concrete particular is reducible to attributes and their mutual relation; they disagree about the ‘wholly’ part. Instead substratum theorists argue for the inclusion of a bare substratum, ‘that functions as the literal bearer or possessor of the attributes (Loux, p. 87).’ Allaire uses the example ‘this is red,’ which the substratum theorist would take as a subject-predicate proposition where ‘red’ refers to a universal property and ‘this’ is the literal exemplifier of that property (pp. 1-2).

This might seem a bit puzzling and an uncharitable reaction is to dismiss it as an example of what Whitehead called ‘the fallacy of misplaced concreteness (Irvine; Loux mentions ‘it is raining’ as an example of a doerless doing, p. 93, though without referring to Whitehead explicitly).’ However, we would then fail to take into account what I consider the true motives behind each opposing stance. The motives of substratum and bundle theorists alike seem to arise from a disconcert with the opposed position rather than merely the merits of their own. A short passage by Russell draws upon the worries of both parties.

The continuity of a human body is a matter of appearance and behaviour, not of substance. The same thing applies to the mind. We think and feel and act, but there is not, in addition to thoughts and feelings and actions, a bare entity, the mind or the soul, which does or suffers these occurrences. The mental continuity of a person is a continuity of habit and memory; there was yesterday one person whose feelings I can remember, and that person I regard as myself of yesterday; but in fact, myself of yesterday was only certain mental occurrences which are now remembered, and are regarded as part of the person who now recollects them. All that constitutes a person is a series of experiences connected by memory and by certain similarities of the sort we call habit (pp. 42-43).

The crux of the matter is our intuitive conception of identity – in this case the temporal persistence of personal identity – which riles us ever more once we realise that some madman might include us among the concrete particulars to be dissected! And although the existence of bare particulars does not necessarily entail the existence of souls, it would be quite benighted to gloss over the similarities; one being that empiricists ought to find both equally problematic. On the other hand, whereas an ineffable anchor to some inaccessible reality is brutish, it is not desirable that the ship of Theseus dissolves into the ocean entirely – even if today it has a different mast than yesterday.

What we have just outlined is the temporal persistence objection to bundle theory, which features among five other objections in Van Cleve’s paper. However, Van Cleve readily abandons the first three at the advent of ‘co-instantiation (p. 29).’ The three objections left are: the temporal persistence, the essentiality, and the identity of indiscernibles objections.

I shall not devote much effort to temporal persistence. Firstly, as Loux points out, the objection does not arise for bundle theory alone, but is an instance of a more general principle (p. 93). Secondly, Casullo has, to my satisfaction, shown that by construing enduring things as a contingently related series of momentary things – a move available to both bundles and substrata – the objection is only a problem if bundle theory cannot account for momentary things (pp. 127-128).

The essentiality objection – if a thing were a complex of properties, those properties would be essential to it since it could not have different properties and retain its identity – is not dealt with by Casullo as much as accepted as not really a problem. Casullo maintains that the essentiality of properties is only true of momentary things and not enduring things, since the latter are a series of the former (p. 129).

One might wonder if this is not merely a one-step regression. I.e. if an enduring thing were a series of momentary things, would it not be the case that those momentary things were essential to the series? Casullo wants to deny this but it is unclear to me how he can, given the fact that he accepted the argument one step down, avoiding it only by moving up. I see only one way out of an infinite regress; instead of identifying the series primarily with its members and secondarily with the relation we must do the opposite. What gives Series A its individuated identity is not its constituent momentary members but its relational structure of an unbroken causal chain.

The upshot is that if we want to avoid a commitment to temporal instances – as a series of momentary things would demand – we could simply move back down and solve temporal persistence in the same way; albeit at the cost of having to reconsider most of our nouns as verbs. We could always rename it bundling theory if it is too far from its parent.

Last we come to the identity of indiscernibles objection, generally considered the strongest. The Stanford Encyclopedia’s definition is:

The Identity of Indiscernibles (hereafter called the Principle) is usually formulated as follows: if, for every property F, object x has F if and only if object y has F, then x is identical to y. Or in the notation of symbolic logic:

∀F(Fx ↔ Fy) → x=y.

(Forrest)

The objection goes that bundle theory demands the necessary truth of the Principle (PII) since two concrete particulars cannot possibly share all their properties without thereby being the same particular. However, PII is not a necessary truth because we can conceive of two numerically distinct particulars who do share all their properties.

There are many ways in which a bundle theorist might want to respond – some bad (as held by ‘A’ in Zimmerman’s imagined dialogue), some better (as held by Casullo). However, for the sake of brevity I shall not dwell on them. Rather I shall argue that the identity of indescernibles is equally a problem for the substratum theorist.

If we compare PII as expressed by Forrest in the Stanford to its Loux counterpart, it becomes immediately clear that something is amiss. Loux states the Principle as follows:

Necessarily, for any concrete objects, a and b, if for any attribute, Ø, Ø is an attribute of a if and only if Ø is an attribute of b, than a is numerically identical with b (p. 97).

Why have Forrest’s objects x and y been narrowed down from any objects to only concrete objects? Luckily Loux presents us with a retraceable line of argument.

(i)                  Necessarily, for any concrete entity, a, if for any entity, b, b is a constituent of a, then b is an attribute.

(ii)                Necessarily, for any complex objects, a and b, if for any entity, c, c is a constituent of a if and only if c is a constituent of b, then a is numerically identical with b (p. 98).

For convenience I have altered Loux’ (BT) for ‘bundle theory’ and (PCI) for ‘Principle of Constituent Identity’ to (i) and (ii) respectively. Now, (i) seems fine although Casullo suggests changing the necessity to a contingency (p. 131), which would render appeals to conceivable possibilities moot. Yet if we grant (i) and (ii), we should also grant Loux’ version of PII. However, my issue is with (ii). The specification of ‘complex objects’ effectively shields bare substrata from the onslaught of PCI but this begs the question against the bundle theorist. Bare substrata have neither attributes nor constituents so what accounts for their individuated identity? Both the original PII and (ii) – barring arbitrary exclusions – can be applied to bare substrata.

For any bare substrata, a and b, if for any entity, c, c is a constituent/attribute of a if and only if c is a constituent/attribute of b, then a is identical with b.

This holds true since for any given constituent or attribute any substratum will, in and of itself, only possess it if and only if all other substrata also possess it – i.e. no substrata will possess any whatsoever. This means there can be only one substratum. If all substrata are identical, in and of themselves, then Loux’ version of the PII applies equally to concrete objects of substratum theory.

My suggested solution is the same as the one I gave to the temporal persistence and essentiality objections:

A thing is a causal relation of a complex of properties.

I can imagine this would seem completely counter-intuitive to some. However, we are already familiar with at least some things, which we would describe like this. For instance vortices are not constituted by any specific constituents. Nevertheless we should not hesitate to speak of that particular vortex every time we saw it; even if it were to contain none of the same water molecules as last.

The way in which this solves the PII objection is that if we have a specific complex of constituents, there is no contradiction in imagining those constituents performing the qualitatively the same relational event today as yesterday. Neither is it contradictory to suppose that a specific complex of constituents could perform the same relational event twice simultaneously, though it does tax us with a higher level of abstraction. However, it should be noted that the phrase ‘the same relational event’ is misleading in the context of simultaneity, since unless there is a continuous causal connection between instantiations, they give rise to individuated concrete particulars – i.e. twin synchronised vortices.

If doing away with momentary particulars is cause for worry, they can always be reintroduced by a one-step regression as considered in the essentiality objection. I readily grant that a substratum theorist could easily adopt my solution. However, I see no reason to disturb parsimony by an unnecessary multiplicity of entities.

♦

I have argued that the defensibility of bundle theory depends upon the definition and considered three objections; temporal persistence, essentiality, and identity of indiscernibles. The first two were answered by a definition stressing the relation over the complex. I argued the third is equally a problem for substratum, suggesting the previous definition as solution usable by both theories, ultimately favouring bundle as more parsimonious.

♦

Bibliography

Books:

• Loux, Michael J., Metaphysics: A Contemporary Introduction (Routledge, third ed., 2006)
• Russell, Bertrand, ‘Do We Survive Death?’, Why I am not a Christian (Routledge, 1957)

Journals:

• Allaire, Edwin B., ‘Bare Particulars’, Philosophical Studies 14 (1963), pp. 1-8
• Casullo, Albert, ‘A Fourth Version of the Bundle Theory’, Philosophical Studies 54 (1998), pp. 125-39
• Van Cleve, James, ‘Three Versions of the Bundle Theory’, Philosophical Studies 47 (1985), pp. 95-107
• Zimmerman, Dean W., ‘Distinct Indiscernibles and the Bundle Theory’, Mind 106 (1997), pp. 305-9

Websites:

• Forrest, Peter, “The Identity of Indiscernibles”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2009 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2009/entries/identity-indiscernible/>.
• Irvine, A. D., “Alfred North Whitehead”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2008 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2008/entries/whitehead/>.

I am vegetarian! Honest! I eat only the finest vegetarian bacon paninis. I love the healthy lifestyle but I wish these pigsprouts would stop sticking to my teeth.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special

Tra-la-la special, special. Wait…hold on. Seriously? Look, Mr. Michael I appreciate the sentiment and I can sort of see what you were aiming for in this song, but you need to put that tormented metaphor out of its sordid misery!

I know what giving someone your heart means, you know what it means. Hell, everyone does. But who among us can honestly claim to get a grip on what it means to give Person C the heart you got from Person A? Does this mean that George Michael fell in love with Person A, but that Person A then somehow made George Michael fall in love with Person C instead – possibly with some sort of mystical love-transference ritual? It just doesn’t work as a metaphor.

So what the Hell, George? Did you actually hand someone your physical honest-to-goodness literal heart? Because if that’s the case, you know, I’m sure you can’t possibly blame the person for giving it away the very next day – say, for instance, giving it to a paramedic or a coroner would surely be the right thing to do!

What the fuck?

Cowabunga, dude! I’m so badass that I don’t even have to touch the ground.

Seriously though, I can accept that Donatello might have found a footstool to pose with for the groupshot or something but what the Hell were the animators thinking when they positioned Leonardo? Invisible Buffalos?

I suppose hovering a few inches above streetlevel for extended periods of time is a very handy ninja-technique though. Shredder won’t see that one coming.

“Oh, that’s nothing. You can’t teleport people.”

Excuse me? We’re talking about teleportation here. Actual honest to Pasta teleportation. Who cares about it not being perfected yet or whatever? It’s teleportation. Why aren’t you excited?

Anyway, to get back to my day so far. I woke up and felt like reading some Doktor Sleepless. However, since I am back at the Faroe Islands and we have little to speak of in the comic-peddling department, I downloaded a couple of issues from rapidshare. That’s the future intruding upon your reality again with you having nothing but apathy to greet it with. If the actuality of teleportation didn’t excite you, I wouldn’t expect a global, instantaneous library in which you at any time can access all of humanity’s literature on a whim to get it up for you either. Sure, it’s illegal but so was taping films from the TV onto VHS or music from the radio onto casettes, and that didn’t stop you, did it? Perhaps it did, but it sure didn’t stop me.

Anyway, Doktor Sleepless just told me to check out the album Saint Dymphna by Gang Gang Dance, so in a matter of 5 seconds I had downloaded that as well. Science Fiction I tell you, and I just published my thoughts instantaneously to a potentially world-wide audience.

♦

Intention

I shall argue against single-mind solipsism and in extension the zombie hypothesis by inference to the best explanation.

Limitations of the Problem

Image by courtesy of A Tribe Called Möw.

The presupposition of the problem is that each person can only ever have direct experience of his or her own mind. Therefore, in lieu of any evidence to the contrary there is no reason to assume that any mind other than one’s own exists. I posit that there are only two ways that this could be the case. Either we must grant veracity to the zombie hypothesis or alternately to the notion of the outside world as a mirage, a dream, or something similarly illusory.

In this essay I shall take a non-illusory outside world for granted. Therefore, I will focus solely on it either being the case that other people do have minds or that they are zombies. I readily grant that an argument against realism would undermine my stance but it would fall outside the scope of this essay. It could be the case that only some people have minds, but since this also requires the existence of zombies I shall treat it as interchangeable with the idea that only one’s own mind exists.

I shall also take the word ‘mind’ more or less for granted. It is conceivable that no two minds are ever even remotely alike and that the word therefore is close to meaningless. However, to allude to Wittgenstein’s famous ‘Beetle in the Box’ analogy (Philosophical Investigations, 1958, §293) it is sufficient for the purpose of my argument that we should see ‘the box’ as containing something as opposed to being entirely void of content. That is, I am not concerned with what precisely – if anything – we mean by the word but just that there is some sort of subjective experience of qualia or internal conscious states present in other people as opposed to none at all.

The Zombie Hypothesis

By ‘the Zombie Hypothesis’ I merely refer to the notion that there are – or could be – entities that are ‘exactly like [me] in all physical respects but have no conscious experiences (Kirk, 2008).’ In this context I am arguing against, single-mind solipsism, by which I mean that one’s own mind is – or could be – the sole mind in existence. Full-blown metaphysical solipsism – wherein the existence of even a reality outside one’s own mind in general is brought into question – is another matter.

We are prone to argue by analogy that we can clearly see other people exhibit behaviour and presumable agency, which in our own case necessitates antecedent mental states. We therefore conclude that they, like us, must possess such mental states. The strongest objection against this is that we are making an unwarranted enumerative inference from a particular instance to a universal affirmative proposition (Blackburn, Problem of Induction, p. 184) – i.e. our behaviour is contingent on having mental states, therefore all such behaviour is a contingence of mental states. Furthermore, as the objection goes, it is not only an unwarranted inference but also a rather weak one at that, since our conclusion rests exclusively on a single, lonesome enumerative premise. This can be likened the conclusion that all aeroplanes are Lufthansa after only ever having seen one single aeroplane (Lecture 3, Lufthansa objection).

They are...eating...the captain!

Inference to the Better Explanation

However, the ‘Lufthansa problem of induction’ is hinged upon the twin assumptions that (a) there are numerous possible propositions, which could have been the case – i.e. a plethora of different airlines, which a plane could have belonged to, or a whole spectrum of colours a swan could have had – and as an extension of this that (b) we are indeed making an attempt at a sound argument for one of these uncountable propositions by enumerative inference alone.

Assuming outside-world realism we should be able to limit the possible propositions to only two – by the principle of excluded middle (Blackburn, p. 124) – and either assert the factuality of the other minds hypothesis or that of the zombie hypothesis. Any encountered non-illusory entity, which displays behaviour associated with agency of mind, must either possess such agency or be a zombie.

As such, the crux of the matter is not which hypothesis we are able to prove conclusively and irrefutably by inductive reasoning. We are not positing an isolated enumerative inference, but rather we are making an inference to the better of only two possible explanations (Herman, 1965). Granted, the single-mind solipsist might still appeal to the metaphysical and logical possibility of zombies, and thereby insist that we cannot know with absolute certainty that other minds exist.

Burden of Proof

However, this sets a rather disingenuous double standard. Surely the hypothesis of other minds does not only share exactly the same metaphysical and logical possibility, it also happens to be a confirmed nomological possibility. If the scarce quantity of enumerative premises to support an inferred conclusion is truly a problem for the other minds hypothesis, then it is even more so for the zombie hypothesis, which cannot boast even a single observation of the proverbial Lufthansa plane. The sceptic of other minds could always retreat behind an infinite regress of possibilities with an ever-increasing unlikelihood.

Nonetheless, one must then wonder – given that the realism of the other minds position is the most reasonable explanation – how come the realist should perpetually bear the burden of proof in the face of a barrage of ever more unreasonable challenges set forth by the fertile imagination of the sceptic? I would surmise that at some point it would be more than appropriate to shift the onus onto the sceptic to show that her arguments from fantasy are also nomologically feasible.

Conclusion

If the single-mind solipsist is unable to provide evidence of either the actual existence of a zombie or the nomological possibility thereof, then it is unclear to me why the onus should be on the realist of other minds to provide good arguments for their existence. By inference to the better explanation we have no reason to concede the possibility that seemingly intentional behaviour could be caused by anything other than the antecedent mental states comparable to our own mind. Each of us knows for a fact that at least one mind exists, while zombies remain fanciful speculation.

♦

To refute the solipsist or the metaphysical idealist all that you have to do is take him out and throw a rock at his head: if he ducks he’s a liar. His logic may be airtight but his argument, far from revealing the delusions of living experience, only exposes the limitations of logic (Abbey, Desert Solitaire, 1990, p. 97).

♦

Bibliography

Lecture handout:

Lecture 3: Other Minds

Journal:

Harman, Gilbert (1965). “The Inference to the Best Explanation,” The Philosophical Review 74:1, 88-95.

Books:

Abbey, Edward, Desert Solitaire: a season in the wilderness, (Simon & Schuster: New York, 1990)

Blackburn, Simon, Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy, revised 2nd ed. (OUP: New York, 2008)

Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Philosophical Investigations, (Blackwell: Oxford, 1958)

Web Pages:

Kirk, Robert, “Zombies”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2008 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = <http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2008/entries/zombies/>.