Might something I do now make something have happened earlier? This paper is about an argument which concludes that I might. Some arguments ([3], [27]) about “backward causation” conclude that the world could have been the kind of place in which actions make things have happened earlier. The present argument says that it is that kind of place: that we actually are continually doing things that really make earlier things have happened. The argument is not new (see e.g. [31]). It sees temporal direction as logically independent of any direction which necessary and sufficient conditions may have and it sees causal direction as properly deriving from the latter. Thus the directions of time and of making things happen need not coincide and, as it turns out, do not actually coincide in fact. There are examples of events which are sufficient, in a suitably rich sense, for the occurrence of earlier events; hence they make the earlier events happen. My purpose in this paper is to lend support to the argument by filling in some details which ‘backward sufficient conditions’ may lay claim to.

In his book, Taking Rights Seriously Prof. Dworkin argues that all elements of society — citizens, legislature, and courts — ought to be ‘taking rights seriously’ in reaching decisions both about the actions and design of public institutions. This has two aspects. First in accord with traditional rights-centred views, there are certain ways of treating individuals that rights rule out. Formally, rights are ‘political trumps held by individuals’; they deny society certain kinds of access to collective goals (xi). Materially, rights can be seen as an expression of equal concern for each citizen as a human being; to deny a right is to ‘insult’ a person by failing to treat him as an equal of other persons, that is, as deserving the same basic respect as others. Secondly, and in contrast to the traditional natural rights view, Dworkin presents a particular way of reasoning about rights that does not presuppose their existence as Platonic entities; instead, rights are discovered in the process of constructing a theory which plausibly accounts for both the letter and the spirit of our society's institutional actions.

What are the objects of the so-called ‘propositional attitudes’ — belief, desire, and the like? One of the best-known accounts holds them to be sentences. According to this account — which I shall call the ‘linguistic theory’ — an analysis of the logical form of a sentence like

• (1) John believes that the moon is round

will see the word ‘that’ as a hidden pair of quotation marks: except for niceties of idiom, (1) might be written

• (2) John believes ‘the moon is round’.

(2) asserts that a certain relation, the ‘believes’-relation, holds between John and the sentence ‘the moon is round’.

Criticism of Locke's account of personal identity has proceeded cumulatively. Three years after the publication of the chapter “Of Identity and Diversity”, John Sergeant raised an objection which, in Bishop Butler's hands, was to become famous as the dictum that “one should really think it self-evident that consciousness of personal identity presupposes, and therefore cannot constitute, personal identity: any more than knowledge, in any other case, can constitute truth, which it presupposes”. Berkeley added, in effect, that when consciousness is taken to be the criterion of personal identity, one must admit that a man conscious of segments of his life at some times and not at others both is — because “conscious of” states a transitive relation — and is not — because of lack of consciousness—the same person.

Aristotle states in Metaphysics Z13 (1038b9-11) that nothing said universally τῶν ϰαϑόλου λεγομένων is substance (οὐαία), rather the substance of each thing is particular to it (οὐαία ἐϰάστου ὴ ίδιος ἐϰάστῳ). The natural interpretation of this statement is that being said universally is a sufficient condition for not being substance. But this claim is very perplexing since it is the key premiss in the following apparently inconsistent set:

1. (1) Form is substance.

2. (2) Form is universal.

3. (3) Nothing universal or said universally is substance, rather the substance of something is particular ἴδιος to it.

Consider the case of Gary Gyges, an otherwise normal human being who, for reasons of personal gain, has embezzled $300,000 while working at People's National Bank and is in the process of escaping to the South Sea Islands where he will have the good fortune to live a pleasant life protected by the local authorities and untroubled by any qualms of conscience. If we assume that in the society from which Gyges is fleeing moral standards are generally observed, Gyges's behavior would be obviously immoral. Is it possible, however, that Gyges, a rational person, may have had perfectly consistent reasons for acting immorally? Is it also possible that Gyges may not have had any moral reasons at all to refrain from his act of embezzlement?

I want to defend the “bundle theory” of mind from two criticisms which are sometimes levelled against it. The criticisms rest on the claim that particular experiences (for example, particular occurrences of thought and perception) are “individuated” by the experiencer who has those experiences. One of these criticisms is that while it is logically impossible that there be an experience which is not had by some sentient or cognizant being, acceptance of the bundle theory would entail admission of the possibility of experiences without experiencers. The other criticism is one which has been raised at least with respect to the most plausible form of the bundle theory. It is directed at that view which analyzes the conditions for an experience's membership in a given person's mind in terms of some external (e.g., causal) relationship between an experience and that particular person's body. The objection is, once again, that the view in question is committed to regarding as logically possible something which is in fact logically impossible.

The concept of exploitation plays a key role in Marx's attack on capitalism. No one denies this. Yet there is much confusion as to just what Marx's concept of exploitation is.

Recent discussions tend to fall into two groups. In the first are those which offer extensive analyses of Marx's concept of alienation, but seldom mention ‘exploitation’. When writers in this first group do mention ‘exploitation’ they mistakenly assume that the concept is transparent and unproblematic.

The second group has little to say about alienation, but does attempt an account of exploitation. These writers mistakenly confine Marx's concept of exploitation to the labor process itself. Both approaches fail to articulate important connections between alienation and exploitation.