Recently a number of philosophers (e.g. Feyerabend and Kuhn) have maintained that the meanings of terms in a scientific language are “theory-laden” or determined by the theory in which they occur, and thus that if the same term (e.g.; ‘mass’) occurs in different theories, it will take on different meanings in the different theories; so the theories are incommensurable. An often-stated corollary to this doctrine is the claim that possessors of different theories cannot express or possess the same facts since they attach different meanings to the terms used to give expression to the facts. Various attacks against this extreme doctrine on the relativity of facts have been mounted. Some of them consist in showing defective the argument advanced in support of this doctrine; but such criticisms at best show that the defenses offered for the doctrine are defective, not that the doctrine itself is defective.

This paper examines the role of Kant’s theory of mathematical cognition in his phoronomy, his pure doctrine of motion. I argue that Kant’s account of how we can construct the composition of motion rests on the construction of extended intervals of space and time, and the representation of the identity of the part–whole relations the construction of these intervals allow. Furthermore, the construction of instantaneous velocities and their composition also rests on the representation of extended intervals of space and time, reflecting the general approach to instantaneous velocity in the eighteenth century.

It is in the scholium of the Principia on time, space, place and motion that Newton delivers what is — arguably — a reluctant kiss of betrayal to empiricism. Right there, ‘in the main body of his chief work,’ as E.A. Burtt observes, the deed is done: ‘When we come to Newton's remarks on space and time … he takes personal leave of his empiricism.’ Reichenbach registers the event less charitably, dismissing the ‘crude reification of space that Newton shares with the epistemologically unschooled mind in its naive craving for realism.’ Injury is then added to insult as Reichenbach holds Newtonian mechanics to task for arresting the analysis of the problems of space and time for more than two centuries.

Epistemological foundationalism has typically been thought to hold that in order to account for human knowledge we must countenance the direct Justification of some specific kind of beliefs, such as one's beliefs to the effect that one is having a certain sensation. How else, it may be thought, can one analyse Justification without confronting an infinite regress or a vicious circle? I believe that this conception of foundationalism has been so influential that most foundationalists and nearly all their critics have failed to appreciate that foundationalism may be plausibly construed as a thesis mainly about the structure of a body of Justified beliefs. Central to the thesis, so interpreted, is that one's Justified beliefs divide into foundations and superstructure; but no particular content on the part of either set of beliefs need be required. This latitude regarding content is altogether appropriate; for if we use, as a guide to understanding foundationalism, the famous regress argument, from which the thesis derives much of its plausibility, then the only foundations required by the thesis are beliefs whose Justification does not depend on that of other beliefs. Precisely what beliefs these are is a controversial matter on which foundationalists may differ.

In her influential paper, ‘The First Person,’ Elizabeth Anscombe brings together a number of considerations which, she believes, lead to the startling conclusion that the first person pronoun is not a referring expression — that ‘I’ is never used to refer. This is startling, because if we consider even superficially the logical properties of first person statements, nothing could, prima facie, seem more obvious than that in any such statement, the first person pronoun functions logically as a singular referring expression. Moreover, Anscombe herself offers the following informal gloss on the truth conditions of first person assertions: ‘If X asserts something with ‘I’ as subject, his assertion will be true if and only if what he asserts is true of X.’

Perhaps no doctrine in our intellectual history has received more attention—critical, puzzled and celebrative—than that of “economic determinism”. To adequately catalogue the literature on Karl Marx’s epoch-making theory would require, no doubt, a considerable tome.

I am not, therefore, going to attempt such a task here, illuminating though it might be as a study in the history and sociology of ideas. Rather I am going to outline an interpretation which will—if I am successful—be both faithful to Marx’s texts and immune to the standard philosophical criticisms which have been hitherto advanced against the theory (e.g., that it is intolerably imprecise, that it is indefensibly monocausal, that it is refuted by historical fact, that it is committed to logically improper prediction, that it is incompatible with ethical and personal responsibility, etc.).

“Marxists,” Eugene Kamenka has written, “have failed to develop an original or comparatively coherent view of ethics that can be ranked as a type of ethical theory finding its natural place beside utilitarian ethics, ethical intuitionism, existentialist ethics, or even Greek ethics.” This judgment, that Marxism has no theory of ethics or no coherent one or that if it does have a coherent theory that theory is just a version of some type of ethical theory that is independent of Marxism, seems supported by various recent philosophical discussions of Marx or Marxism and morality. Thus, Marx himself has been taken to be everything from a moral skeptic or relativist to an ethical intuitionist to a utilitarian to a proponent of a quasi-Aristotelian morality based on a notion of the function of man.

Locke's moral theory consists of two explicit and distinct elements — a broadly rationalist theory of natural law and a hedonistic conception of moral good. The rationalist account, which we find most prominently in his early Essays on the Law of Nature, is generally taken to consist in three things. First, Locke holds that our moral rules are founded on universal, divine natural laws. Second, such moral laws are taken to be discoverable by reason. Third, by dint of their divine authorship, moral laws are obligatory and rationally discernible as such. Locke's hedonism, which is developed most fully in his later Essay Concerning Human Understanding, consists in the view that all good amounts to pleasure, with specifically moral good taken to consist in the pleasurable consequences of discharging one's moral duties.

Can an omnipotent being create a stone too heavy for him to lift? If not, he is not omnipotent. But if so, he is not omnipotent either, since there is something he cannot lift. Hence there can be no omnipotent being. J .L. Cowan's recent reformulation of this paradox of omnipotence (this Journal, vol. III, no. 3, March, 1974) has been sharpened through a number of objections and clarifications, and, in its final form, constitutes a significant problem for the analysis of the concept of an omnipotent agent. I will develop fragments of two systems in which the problem can be defined more exactly, and try to indicate some formal guidelines within which constructive steps towards a solution may be possible. I will argue that the paradox shows the need for a special kind of restriction on omnipotence that can be distinguished from some related restrictions.

According to a ‘Straight’ reading of Elizabeth Anscombe’s (1975) ‘The First Person’, she holds a radically non-referring view of ‘I’. Specifically, ‘I’ is analogous to the expletive ‘it’ in ‘It’s raining’. I argue that this is not her conclusion. Her substantive view, rather is that if what you mean by ‘reference’ is a certain rich and recherché notion tracing to Frege, then ‘I’ is not a referring term. Her methodological point is that one shouldn’t be ‘bewitched by language’ into thinking that ‘I’, because of its syntax, must exhibit ‘reference’ in this sense.

Many accounts of the morality of abortion assume that early fetuses must all have or lack moral status in virtue of developmental features that they share. Our actual attitudes toward early fetuses don’t reflect this all-or-nothing assumption. If we start with the assumption that our attitudes toward fetuses are accurately tracking their value, then we need an account of fetal moral status that can explain why it is appropriate to love some fetuses but not others. I argue that a fetus can come to have moral claims on persons who have taken up the activity of person-creation.

According to the guise of the good thesis, we desire things under the ‘guise of the good.’ Here I sympathetically articulate a generic formulation of the guise of the good thesis, and address a problem for the view, which I call the problem of partiality. The problem is, roughly, that our partial pro-attitudes–for example, our special concern for ourselves–do not correspond to what is absolutely good. I criticize three solutions to the problem, and propose an alternative strategy, on which partial pro-attitudes constitute a species of illusion.

According to Nicod's criterion of confirmation ([7]), a hypothesis of the form ‘All P are Q’ is confirmed by its positive instances, i.e. by entities that are P and Q. It is well known, however, that the criterion gives origin to counterintuitive results. For example, it sanctions the confirmation of ‘All nonblacks are nonravens’ by a nonblack nonraven. Since this hypothesis is logically equivalent to ‘All ravens are black,’ it follows that the criterion indirectly sanctions the counterintuitive confirmation of ‘All ravens are black’ by a non black nonraven, e.g. by a white shoe.

Given a descriptive word, what is the nature of the relation between it and the features of the object(s) to which it is supposed to apply? What is it that entitles one to assert ‘this is a horse’?

A traditional answer has been in terms of ‘Merkmal’: a (minimal) collection of features, or properties, severally necessary and Jointly sufficient for the application of the word in question. This relation - call it the Merkmal relation - between word and features is common to a variety of theories of meaning that may otherwise be in disagreement about the status of the features themselves in their relation to the object: whether they be actual or believed, perceptual or ‘essential,’ phenomenal or ‘real,’ etc.

In Making It Explicit (1994) Robert Brandom claims that we may distinguish those linguistic expressions with object-representational purport — the singular terms — from others merely by the structure of their inferential relations. A good part of his inferentialist program rests on this claim. At first blush it can seem implausible: linguistic expressions stand in inferential relations to each other, so how could we appeal to those relations to decide on the obtaining of what seems to be relation between linguistic expressions and objects in general (viz., x purports to represent y)? It is perhaps not surprising then that Brandom's proposal fails. But it definitely is surprising how it fails. The problem is that in order to specify the sort of generality there is to an expression's inferential role, one must appeal to some version of the traditional distinction between extensional and nonextensional occurrences of expressions, and there appears to be no way to draw anything like that distinction in inferentialist terms. For the inferential proprieties governing the different occurrences an expression can have are so varied that they do not determine a binary partition of those occurrences.

Berkeley's idealism consists of the following claims. Objects such as chairs, apples, mountains, and our bodies are combinations of sensible qualities. Sensible qualities and combinations of such are ideas or sensations. In the philosophical sense of ‘substance’ there is no such entity as a substance. There are minds which perceive and will: When a mind perceives it has sensations or ideas; and when a mind wills it produces or causes sensations or ideas. These claims are grounded in the ontological and epistemological framework of assumptions, distinctions and arguments informing Berkeley's doctrine that esse est percipi aut percipere. The purpose of this paper is to explore and expose the main features of that framework.

What is the ontological force and import on Berkeley's claim that esse est percipi? One influential recent suggestion1 is this: Berkeley holds that (1) material substances do not exist, (2) the analysis of sensible things yields nothing but sensible qualities, (3) minds are mental substances and (4) no sensible quality or collection of sensible qualities can exist without inhering in some substance.

There is trouble at the foundations of Grice's theory of conversational implicature, or so I shall argue. Grice's commentators seem to agree, and some of Grice's own remarks suggest, that every case of implicature is one in which ‘the speaker gets across more than he says…. ’ The problem is that there are cases in which nothing is said - in which case it is not clear that there is any vehicle by which the implicature might be carried, and consequently not clear that Grice's theory can account for the implicature which does appear to be carried.

Both Descartes and Leibniz are on record as maintaining that acting freely requires that the agent ‘could have done otherwise.’ However, it is not clear how they could maintain this, given their other metaphysical commitments. In Leibniz's case, the arguments connected with this are well-rehearsed: it is argued, for example, that Leibnizian doctrines such as the Principle of Sufficient Reason and the thesis that God must will the best possible world preclude that the human could ever do other than she did. The question of whether Descartes can maintain that the agent is able to do otherwise in the face of his wider metaphysical commitments has received comparatively little attention. However, Chappell has recently noted that Descartes's thesis that God is the ‘total cause’ of everything seems to preclude the possibility of human freedom (where this includes the ability to do otherwise).

This essay is about a theory of belief and a theory of belief reports formulated within the framework of DR (Discourse Representation) theory. DR theory’s treatment of definite and indefinite noun phrases leads to a superior treatment of belief reports involving singular terms. But it also provides something of even greater potential benefit to a treatment of belief: a (highly idealized) theory of how recipients recover verbally encoded information and of what form such information must take. The use of this account of verbally encoded information causes a distinctive treatment of belief to emerge. I will focus here on an analysis within this framework of how beliefs arise from the acceptance of verbal information and how the process of belief formation interacts with the process of belief report interpretation.