Unlike old soldiers, the rhetoric of the great neither dies nor fades away. And so Hume's celebrated ‘is-ought’ passage still provokes debate.

Hume was worried about the relation between ought statements and those supporting them: between ‘tolerence brings peace’ or ‘is God's will’, and ‘so one ought to be tolerant’. He denies the deducibility of the latter from the former, as the ‘ought’ expresses ‘a new relation or affirmation’, ‘entirely different from the others’. And this is commonly taken as saying that the ought statement is ‘different’ and non-deducible, because it is no longer a ‘purely factual statement’, to wit one that makes another ordinarily testable truth claim.

However, recent criticism, by W. D. Hudson and others, points out that Hume says other things seemingly inconsistent with this. In the passage, he mentions ‘ought’ and ‘virtue’ interchangeably, and ‘tolerance is virtuous’ as in the same boat as ‘one ought to be tolerant’. But, also, he treats the virtue of an action as sensibly discernible by the approbation which it evokes, and takes us to mean by a virtuous action that we will approve of it on contemplation.

In what follows I propose to consider the relevance of Plato's early claim that his Forms are explanatory to the structure of, and several of the main arguments of, the Parmenides. The first section of the paper looks into some implications of separate existence, exploring connections between the criticism of separation and the conception of Forms as explanatory principles. I focus attention on what the Forms do not explain, and suggest that the burden of much of Parmenides’ criticism centers on that question. Part two deals with Plato's evidently changing stance on the issue of explaining the Forms themselves. The third section takes up passages from the Parmenides in support of the view that Plato came to believe that his Forms stood in need of the same sort of explanation as he had originally thought was required for sensory particulars. The discussion is largely exploratory, and the connections adumbrated are intended as guidelines for further investigation.

Ever since Moore revived the gospel of certainty, philosophers content with commonsense have tried to provide a perspicuous formulation of its merits. Neither Moore nor his ablest successors have completely fulfilled this task, and although few philosophers would take up Wittgenstein's challenge, “Just try ——in a real case ——to doubt someone else's fear or pain”, many would disagree that if one does he will “find these words becoming quite meaningless”. The psychological conviction that men have in many beliefs is philosophically trivial, but the suggestion that sceptical claims are meaningless seems simply false. The problem for advocates of commonsense is that there is no evident room between psychological indubitability and logical necessity, uninteresting ‘subjective’ certainty and unattainable ‘objective’ certainty. Only by describing linguistic stringencies intermediate between psychological and logical ones can this problem be overcome.

In Philosophical Papers Moore frequently claims to ‘know with certainty’ that many empirical propositions are true.

Both philosophy and theology are given a raison d'etre by their problems. Some of their problems they share, and some they do not. They share a concern with the nature of morality and they share the problem of human freedom. But the filioque issue and the controversy between Arius and Athanasius regarding the consubstaniality of the persons of the Trinity belong to theology, if contemporary theology will have them. The problems of reference and denotation, and of classes, in the cast given them by Frege, Russell and others, are exclusively in the domain of philosophy. Sometimes the problems shared by philosophy and theology are also human problems: they intimately touch human lives and have palpable ramifications for the way men live. Camus, who said with a flourish that the only philosophical problem is whether or not to commit suicide, was saying in part that the only philosophical problems worth considering are human problems. And William James would perhaps concur; he would insist that only philosophical problems that are “living, forced and momentous” present a genuine option to men.

In the Summa Theologia I (STI), beginning at question 2, article 3, and in the Summa Contra Gentiles I (CGI), beginning at chapter 13, Aquinas provides five proofs for the existence of God. These proofs are intended to demonstrate that God exists and to provide the foundation for a larger program to demonstrate many other doctrines which are held by faith. However, the program which Aquinas sets up for himself in the two great Summae is trivial and unnecessary if the existence of God is self-evident in such a way that God's existence needs no demonstration. So, as a preamble to the five ways, Aquinas argues that the existence of God is not self-evident in any way that would hinder his program of rational theology.

In STI the argument occurs in question 2, article 1, and in CGI it occurs in chapters 10 and 11. Aquinas also argues the same point in Commentum in Primum Librum Sententiarum (CS) distinction 3, question 1, article 2, and in Quaestiones Disputate De Veritate (DV) question 10, article 12.

Recently, Jonathan Bennett has said some interesting, but mistaken, things about certain themes in Berkeley's philosophy. His comments are interesting because they direct us to a careful scrutiny of Berkeley's arguments and methodology in the often neglected Draft to the Introduction to the Principles, and mistaken because Bennett misinterprets these arguments and methodology. I would like to correct those mistakes because an understanding of Berkeley's Draft is helpful in interpreting the Introduction, which in turn is important for our understanding of not only his philosophical methodology, but also for an adequate interpretation of some of his substantive philosophical claims. I will argue that Bennett misinterprets Berkeley's deleted comments and arguments concerned with two Lockean themes, classification and understanding, as presented in several passages from the Draft which did not appear in the published Introduction to the Principles. In both cases Bennett's confusion is a failure to grasp Berkeley's strategy and target in his attacks upon Locke and the theses he takes Locke to hold. Read in their unedited form the deleted passages not only indicate that Bennett misinterprets them, but they also are suggestive of some interesting philosophical comments on Berkeley's part.

A central difficulty in the way of understanding Spinoza's metaphysical system is that of reconciling two apparently contradictory theories of the causation of finite modes (i.e., individual entities) found in his Ethics. The easiest way to present the problem is to place these two accounts side by side.

Together, these propositions entail (at least) that (a) God is a necessary and sufficient condition for the occurrence of any action, and (b) that anything so determined is eternal and infinite. Compare these implications with the following.

In this article I want to investigate what sort of explanation is being given when someone says “He did x out of such and such emotion” or “Such and such emotion was his motive tor doing x”. In order to do this I will try and argue for the following:

1. (1) The term ‘motive’ should not be limited to contexts where we expect that the motivation does not fall within the standard range.

2. (2) The motive which is said to be behind an actual action is to be construed as a cause.

3. (3) The motive which is said to be behind an actual action is to be construed as entailing a want which is a cause.

4. (4) However not all actions which can be said to be done out of some motive can be said to be actions which the agent wanted to do.

Alastair Hannay wrote that there is a campaign against the mental image and a look at the philosophical literature on that topic bears him out. But there is also a campaign against dreams. Given the first campaign this is not surprising. What is surprising is that they are separate campaigns. Intuitively mental images and dreams seem to be as alike as kittens and cats, the one being merely the developed form of the other, made possible by the fading of consciousness of the real world. One would think that an attack on the one is also an attack on the other, at least in the sense that an analysis of the one will, with modest modifications, also be an analysis of the other.

But this seems not to be so. To say that a man who pictured his nursery was not a spectator of a resemblance of his nursery, but rather resembled a. spectator of his nursery, may have some initial plausibility because some people behave in curious ways at such times. But to say this of a person who dreamt of his nursery is simply nonsense.

According to R.G. Swinburne in his ingenious discussion of the Euthyphro Dilemma, God, by which he means ‘the unconstrained, omnipotent, omniscient creator and sustainer of the universe’ can make actions morally obligatory, right, wrong, good and bad.

In response to this claim I shall concentrate on two issues. The first is whether Swinburne establishes that God is capable of making actions morally wrong. Admittedly much of Swinburne's discussion is couched in terms of whether God can make actions morally obligatory but his remarks about terminology make it abundantly clear that he thinks the same arguments show that God can make actions morally wrong; so in fixing on the latter — less equivocal — notion I shall still be dealing with the substance of his argument. My second concern is the more general one of drawing out and examining some of the implications of Swinburne's account of religious morality.

Swinburne does not hold that God, if he exists, makes all morally wrong actions morally wrong; on the contrary, he maintains that some actions are necessarily wrong, such as torturing innocent children for the fun of it.

In two recent papers Joseph Margolis has sketched a situation, his characterisation of which involves a denial of the ubiquitous contention that knowing that p is logically sufficient for believing that p. There are not many philosophers who would follow him in this denial of what is most usually taken as the only “natural” way of construing knowledge. If Margolis has not succeeded in constructing a counterexample to the official view, and I do not believe that he has, it is of some importance to understand just why he has failed. No epistemological gain is achieved by meeting Margolis with a question begging reply, as I think has been done by his critic, J.A. Barker.

The case the Margolis offers is this:

Edmund Gettier objects to analysing knowledge as justified true belief (JTB) on the ground that someone can justifiably infer a true conclusion from a justified false premise and hence not know the conclusion's truth, although the conclusion is justified. For instance, someone can justifiably deduce a true p v r from a justified but false p, where he has no justification for the true r. Gettier's objection draws on two assumptions: first, that a justified belief can be false; second, that a premise can justify a conclusion even though the premise is false.

Some JTB advocates grant the first assumption but deny the second. They usually concede the first assumption to protect the respectability of non-deductive inference. The argument is that if evidence e can nondeductively justify the conclusion c, then it must be possible for c to be justified and yet false, since e does not entail c. Although the assumption is sound, the argument as it stands fails to show it. But let us set this point aside for the moment.

Avrum Stroll, in his article “Russell's ‘Proof’ “ (this Journal, IV.4, June 1975) makes a number of interesting ——though, as I shall argue, misconceived ——observations about Russell's philosophy of language. The points on which I take issue with Stroll concern, first, his claim that the arguments used in Principia Mathematica (hereafter abbreviated to PM) to distinguish names from descriptions differ significantly from the arguments to the same purpose in My Philosophical Development (MPD); second, his challenge to Russell's view that descriptive phrases acquire meaning by being put into a sentential context; third, his contention that Russell's various attempts to prove that names differ from descriptions are based on fallacious arguments; and fourth, his speculations about the factors prompting Russell to make the assumption that proper names have meaning and that this meaning is independent of any sentential context. I will discuss each of these points in turn.

In a recent paper M.R. Ayers attacks two widely held doctrines:

• (I) Non-arbitary individuation requires principles of individuation and these are supplies only by sortal general terms.

• (R) It is possible for an item a to be the same as b but not the same as b.

I shall follow Ayers in calling a theory which includes both (I) and (R) ‘conceptualist’ or ‘sortalist’ (although I shall also use the more familiar label ‘relative identity theory’), but I shall not allow him to appropriate the honorific term ‘realist’ for his own theory, which I shall term ‘absolutist’. My sole purpose here is to defend (I) and (R) in turn against Ayers’ attacks on them. Thus I shall ignore intermediate positions which accept (R) but reject (I) or vice-versa.

Ayers’ paper is long and in many respects obscure; there are many points in it which require discussion but which can't receive it here for lack of space. In particular, I shall ignore his lengthy comments on the constitutive ‘is’, and also the wider metaphysical remarks in his conclusion and the postscript on Dummett.