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.

Seeing art is not as easy as it looks, because there is more to seeing art than meets the eye. This essay examines some of the presuppositions involved in seeing something as art. In opposition to the view of A.C. Danto that to see something as art is merely to identify it as art, I shall suggest that to see something as art is to appreciate it in a specifiable way. In addition, I shall argue that considerations sometimes deemed adventitious are in fact inescapably involved in the appreciation of all works of art, and in particular, that it is impossible to entirely eliminate intentional and genetic considerations from our critical Judgments.

Moral philosophy has conceived of its task in many different ways throughout its history. One of these has been to articulate qualities of character, or ‘virtues,’ which the morally good or morally admirable person will possess.

This paper is a first step in an attempt to work out a feminist perspective on this aspect of moral philosophy and its history. I will focus on the moral philosophies of Kant and Hegel who exemplify different versions of a general orientation within moral philosophy which I call ‘moral rationalism.’ For the moral rationalist reason and rationality are at the center of the conception of the good or moral man (and I use the word ‘man’ here intentionally).

John Searle has charged R.M. Hare's prescriptivist analysis of the meaning of ‘good,’ ‘ought’ and the other evaluative words with committing what he calls the ‘speech act fallacy.’ This is a fallacy which Searle thinks is committed not only by Hare's analysis, but by any analysis which attributes to a word the function of indicating that a particular speech act is being performed, or that an utterance has a particular illocutionary force. ‘There is a condition of adequacy which any analysis of the meaning of a word must meet,’ Searle writes, ‘and which the speech act analysis fails to meet. Any analysis of the meaning of a word must be consistent with the fact that the same word (or morpheme) can mean the same thing in all the different kinds of sentences in which it can occur.' Hare maintains that the word ‘good’ is used to indicate the speech act of prescribing. He maintains that one of the principal functions of this word is to indicate that utterances of sentences containing it have prescriptive illocutionary force, and that an analysis of its meaning must make explicit and ineliminable reference to this force-indicating function. But ‘good’ regularly occurs in sentences utterances of which appear to have no prescriptive illocutionary force.

Slippery slope arguments are commonly thought to be fallacious. But is there a single fallacy which they all commit? A study of applied logic texts reveals competing diagnoses of the supposed error, and several recent authors take slippery slope arguments seriously. Clearly, there is room for comment. I shall give evidence of divergence on the question of what sort of argument constitutes a slippery slope, distinguish four different types of argument which have all been deemed to be slippery slopes, and contend that two of these types need involve no logical error.

We find in textbook accounts three quite differently oriented treatments of slippery slope: conceptual — relating to vagueness and the ancient sorites paradox; precedential — relating to the need to treat similar cases consistently; and causal — relating to the avoidance of actions which will, or would be likely to, set off a series of undersirable events.

If one looks to the current textbook lore for reliable taxonomic and analytical information about the petitio principii, one is met with conceptual disarray and much too much nonsense. The present writers have recently attempted to furnish the beginnings of a theoretical reconstruction of this fallacy which is at once faithful to its formidable complexity yet useful as guide for its detection and avoidance. The fact is that the petitio has had a lengthy and interesting history, and in this paper we shall want to explore certain features of its development, such as it may have been. The principal origins of the concept of circular argument are to be found in Aristotle. The Aristotelian doctrine recurs with variations in the sophismata literature of the middle ages and in logic texts and manuals right up to the present day.

What are the philosophically significant grammatical constructions in which the term ‘good’ is used? It is not possible, I think, to base the philosophical analysis of a concept such as goodness on linguistic considerations alone; but an adequate analysis must be able to give an account of the principal uses of the term, and noting usage can be very helpful in providing a starting-point for philosophy. There are three constructions in which ‘good’ is typically used: (1) ‘Good for X,’ (2) ‘A good X,’ and (3) ‘Good at Фing’ or ‘To Ф well.’ In (1) and (2) X is the name of a substance; in the case of (1) either of an individual or of a kind (for example, ‘good for John,’ ‘good for men’), and in the case of (2) of a kind ('a good man’). In (3) Ф is the name of an activity ('good at hunting,’ ‘to teach well’).

I believe that the world is a totality of things: there are no properties, or relations, or sets, or states of affairs, or facts, or events; there are only particular things. I also believe that all true statements can be expressed in a canonical language which includes names of things and logical terms only: there will be no predicates in this language. For what is a predicate? Some say that predicates are names of universals which individual things exemplify, or names of sets of which individual things are members. If this is so, it is obvious that a nominalist's canonical language cannot have any predicates. Others say that predicates name nothing, but are satisfied by particular things. What, however, is satisfaction, and how is it different from naming? Semantic relations such as satisfaction, we are told, are not ‘in’ the world. But then a nominalist has no use for them.

Utilitarianism has recently been criticised on two counts in a recent number of Ratio. According to Terrance C. McConnell, it represents many of the acts which are ordinarily regarded as supererogatory as obligatory, and some (perhaps all) of the others as actually wrong. In support of the latter criticism, he gives two kinds of examples: cases of self-sacrifice, and cases of trivial favours. Acts of self-sacrifice performed for the sake of others’ good, but which result in a greater balance of harm over benefits than alternative acts would produce, would, he claims, normally be regarded as heroic, but are forbidden as wrong by the utilitarian: and of two alternative trivial favours, either of which would ordinarily count as supererogatory (i.e. desirable but not obligatory) the utilitarian must treat the more beneficial as an obligation, and the less beneficial alternative as unallowable. These departures from ordinary responses are considered grounds for seriously doubting the adequacy of utilitarianism.

Problems of practical reasoning often arise as the result of a clash between two different points of view. What do we mean when we say that while from the point of view of prudence there is no reason to rescue one's drowning enemy, from the point of view of morality there is reason to do so? In this essay we examine how the idiom of points of view arises in practical discourse, and offer a clarification of it. We will be particularly concerned with a common argument for assigning a privileged status to the moral point of view, an argument which can be seen to be fallacious once certain features of Judgments made from a point of view are clearly discerned.

Hume scholars have been anxious to point out that when Hume calls Justice, chastity and so on artificial virtues, he is in no way denying that they are real virtues. I shall argue that they are mistaken, and that anyone who wants to understand Hume's account of Justice and his category of artificial virtues must take seriously his choice of the word ‘artifice,’ recognizing that it means not only ‘Skill in designing and employing expedients,’ but also ‘address, cunning, trickery.'

My suggestion will seem strange given Hume's own repeated plea that we not take the term ‘artifice’ too seriously. Yet while it is generally good policy to take people - at least philosophers - at their word, this is a Justified exception, Justified not only by Hume's known proclivities to irony and subtlety, but also by the implications of hearkening to his plea. To see the implications of not taking the terms ‘artificial’ and ‘artifice’ seriously, one can read either Duncan Forbes’ or Barry Stroud's criticisms of Hume's account of Justice.

The proponents of the ‘vindication’ or ‘pragmatic justification’ of induction have attempted to show that induction will work if any method does. This in turn serves as grounds for their claim that we have everything to gain by using induction and nothing to lose. Hence, they conclude that it is rational to use induction. Their claim that induction will work if any mehtod does is based upon the following argument:

A principle of paternalism must be able to answer three questions. Who are the persons who are the proper object of paternalism? Which actions should we prevent persons from doing or induce them to perform? What should our goals be when acting paternalistically toward these persons? A satisfactory principle will also be reasonably precise in distinguishing appropriate from inappropriate instances of paternalism, and it will be comprehensive, speaking to most (if not all) potential cases, including suicide. My purpose is not to reach a conclusion about the acceptability of paternalistic restrictions on suicide. Rather, because such a conclusion will follow from the way in which a principle of paternalism is formulated, I want to examine several liberal attempts at formulation and the theoretical background underlying these attempts.

The Bible does not in general tell us to maximize or minimize anything. The Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount do n·ot, for example, tell us to maximize the glory of God. Instead they say, do this, don't do that, where ‘this’ and ‘that’ are replaceable by the name for such categories of action as stealing, committing adultery, and loving thy neighbour.

Until recently, at least, non-maximizing moralists have appeared irrational when confronted with such questions as: what if stealing or lying will save a life? Because they exclude consideration of particular circumstances, the dicta of traditional morality seem myopic and prejudiced next to ‘end-state’ doctrines like utilitarianism, which require that careful empirical investigation accompany virtually every moral decision. To many, traditional morality seems sincere and straightforward, but lacking in intellectual respectability.

I want to examine a relationship between rationality and moral behavior (morally right behavior). To do this, I shall first set out some basic intuitions. Then, within that framework I shall raise a problem about the relationship between rationality and moral behavior; in particular, I shall suggest that present in these basic intuitions is an inconsistency which can be remedied only by a radical alteration of one intuition.

It is rational to perform a morally right action. The sense of this claim is fairly clear, but the claim itself needs further articulation. For example, it is rational to conclude that the sum of 37 and 22 is 59, but the conclusion has not been reached rationally if the way in which one hit on 59 as the answer was to pluck a pea - luckily enough, number 59 - from the bingo basket. In speaking about a belief or an action being rational, reference must be made to an agent, to reasons, and to the agent's reasons.