'Some beliefs about the world are justified, others are not.’ This seems to be a plausible, even if not completely uncontroversial, claim. The controversy most likely would center on the meaning given to the term ‘justified'. If one gives extremely strong criteria for justification, one might argue that the claim is false. None of our beliefs about the world are justified. It is possible, perhaps, to interpret Hume as taking such a position.

Whether or not Hume held this, I think that there is a sense of ‘justified’ in which Hume could have argued that some of our beliefs about the world are justified. I will try to show this by developing an analysis of justified belief that is compatible with Hume's theory of the nature of beliefs and belief formation. As a minimum criterion for success such an analysis must be able to provide a plausible basis for distinguishing between justified and unjustified beliefs.

I advance a novel interpretation of Kant’s argument that our original representation of space must be intuitive, according to which the intuitive status of spatial representation is secured by its infinitary structure. I defend a conception of intuitive representation as what must be given to the mind in order to be thought at all. Discursive representation, as modelled on the specific division of a highest genus into species, cannot account for infinite complexity. Because we represent space as infinitely complex, the spatial manifold cannot be generated discursively and must therefore be given to the mind, i.e. represented in intuition.

This paper argues for the existence of a certain type of defeater for one’s belief that P—the presence of social incentives not to share evidence against P. Such pressure makes it relatively likely that there is unpossessed evidence that would provide defeaters for P because it makes it likely that the evidence we have is a lopsided subset. This offers, I suggest, a rational reconstruction of a core strand of argument in Mill’s On Liberty. A consequence of the argument is that on morally and politically laden issues in particular, a high degree of doxastic openness might be appropriate.

In this article, I discuss a trivialization worry for Hartry Field’s official formulation of the access problem for mathematical realists, which was pointed out by Øystein Linnebo (and has recently been made much of by Justin Clarke-Doane). I argue that various attempted reformulations of the Benacerraf problem fail to block trivialization, but that access worriers can better defend themselves by sticking closer to Hartry Field’s initial informal characterization of the access problem in terms of (something like) general epistemic norms of coincidence avoidance.

Pity is an emotion which is intimately connected with virtue. If I were impervious to anger I could still be a paragon of rectitude. My emotional peculiarity might even be explained by moral saintliness. If I had a pitiless heart my entire life would surely be an abject moral failure. The imputation of an inability to pity strikes us as a damning moral criticism; it is one we are likely to make, for example, against those who commit acts of extreme cruelty. Yet pity is hardly ever welcomed by its recipients, and for that reason it differs in a puzzling way from other emotions which are closely associated with virtue, such as gratitude or compassion. The prospect of becoming an object of pity is alarming, and not merely because we fear the misfortune that would evoke pity in others; it is alarming in part because we suspect that being on the receiving end of that emotion could seriously aggravate our plight. We also regard an aversion to being pitied as commendable, perhaps even morally commendable. There is something shameful in wanting to be pitied, just as there is in the indulgence of self-pity. The aged and the physically disabled do not want our pity, as a rule, and we think better of them for not wanting it. Finally, we know that those who give pity are frequently guilty of serious wrongdoing. A pitiless heart may be a terrible thing, but a fondness for dispensing pity is scarcely any better.

Towards the ends of their reviews, Annette Baier and Jean Hampton allow, if only momentarily, the real spectres to surface. Baier writes, ‘Gauthier rightly sees the dangers of exploitation and subjection inherent in a kin-based and affection-dependent morality, so purports to try for something totally different. Even if our moral natures cannot recognize themselves in Gauthier’s version of them, the problem that drives the attempt [for an individualist and unsentimental morality] is a real one, and so far, I think, an unsolved one; unsolved for morality as well as for moral theory.’ Hampton writes, ‘Gauthier will point out that anyone who insists that a human being has objective value must develop a theory that will not only justify that claim but also explain what reason one would ever have for respecting this value. I believe this is a challenge one has no choice but to accept, given what the moral facts are.’

David Armstrong accepted the following three theses: universals are immanent, laws are relations between universals, and laws govern. Taken together, they form an attractive position, for they promise to explain regularities in nature—one of the most important desiderata for a theory of laws and properties—while remaining compatible with naturalism. However, I argue that the three theses are incompatible. The basic idea is that each thesis makes an explanatory claim, but the three claims can be shown to run in a problematic circle. I then consider which thesis we ought to reject (hint: see the title) and suggest some general lessons for the metaphysics of laws.

This paper proposes a new framework for thinking about hope, with certain unexpected consequences. Specifically, I argue that a shift in focus from locutions like “x hopes that” and “x is hoping that” to “x is hopeful that” and “x has hope that” can improve our understanding of hope. This approach, which emphasizes hopefulness as the central concept, turns out to be more revealing and fruitful in tackling some of the issues that philosophers have raised about hope, such as the question of how hope can be distinguished from despair or how people can have differing strengths in hope. It also allows us to see that many current accounts of hope, far from being rivals, are actually compatible with one another.

In the course of a lengthy interview, Descartes is reported to have claimed that ‘the axiom is common and true: the effect is similar to the cause’(AT 5:156). There has been much discussion in the recent secondary literature about whether Descartes’ various causal principles require a sort of resemblance between cause and effect that rules out the interaction of substances as distinct in nature as mind and body. However, it is clear from the record of the Descartes interview that the axiomatic principle that effects are similar to their causes- call this the ‘Similarity Principle'- applies primarily to the case of God's production of created substances, and of created minds in particular. This record thus provides one reason for the focus here on that particular case. Another is that a consideration of this case broaches difficulties for the Similarity Principle that have an interesting though somewhat neglected role in the history of Cartesianism.

A widespread view in the philosophy of mind and action holds that intentions are propositional attitudes. Call this view ‘Propositionalism about Intention’. The key alternative holds that intentions have acts, or do-ables, as their contents. Propositionalism is typically accepted by default, rather than argued for in any detail. By appealing to a key metaphysical constraint on any account of intention, I argue that on the contrary, it is the Do-ables View which deserves the status of the default position, and Propositionalism which bears the burden of proof. I go on to show that this burden has not been met in the literature.

A.N. Prior once showed that on certain apparently reasonable assumptions, a thesis sometimes associated with the name of Hume to the effect that no set of factual statements can ever entail an evaluative statement (call this principle ‘H’), is quite untenable. We assume only that there is at least one statement of each kind, and that the negation of a factual statement (evaluative statement) is factual (evaluative, respectively) — a principle we may call ‘N'. Now consider the disjunction F V E of some factual with some evaluative statement. Since the disjunction is entailed by F, a factual statement, it must, if principle H is correct, be classified as factual. But by N, ∽ F is also factual, and this together with F V E entails E, thus violating H since E was exhypothesi an evaluative statement.

I attempt to meet some criticisms that Williamson makes of my attempt to carry out Prior's project of reducing possibility discourse to actualist discourse.

According to truthmaker theory, particular truths are true in virtue of the existence of particular entities. Truthmaker maximalism holds that this is so for all truths. Negative existential and other ‘negative’ truths threaten the position. Despite this, maximalism is an appealing thesis for truthmaker theorists. This motivates interest in parsimonious maximalist theories, which do not posit extra entities for truthmaker duty. Such theories have been offered by David Lewis and Gideon Rosen, Ross Cameron, and Jonathan Schaffer. However, it will be argued here that these theories cannot be sustained, and hence maximalism comes with a serious ontological cost. Neither Armstrong's invocation of totality facts nor the Martin-Kukso line on absences can meet this cost satisfactorily. I'll claim that negative facts are the best (and perhaps only) way out of the problem for the truthmaker maximalist.

Questions about sincerity play a central role in our lives. But what makes an assertion insincere? In this paper we argue that the answer to this question is not as straightforward as it has sometimes been taken to be. Until recently the dominant answer has been that a speaker makes an insincere assertion if and only if he does not believe the proposition asserted. There are, however, persuasive counterexamples to this simple account. It has been proposed instead that an insincere assertion that p is one made by a speaker who (a) does not express his belief that p; or (b) does not believe that he believes that p; (c) does not assent to p; or (d) does not express any of these cognitive states. We show that these alternative accounts also face counterexamples.

In this review of Hutto and Myin’s Radicalizing Enactivism, I question the adequacy of a non-representational theory of mind. I argue first that such a theory cannot differentiate cognition from other bodily engagements such as wrestling with an opponent. Second, I question whether the simple robots constructed by Rodney Brooks are adequate as models of multimodal organisms. Last, I argue that Hutto and Myin pay very little attention to how semantically interacting representations are needed to give an account of choice and action.

Introduction

Ted Sider aptly and concisely states the self-visitation paradox thus: ‘Suppose I travel back in time and stand in a room with my sitting 10-year-old self. I seem to be both sitting and standing, but how can that be?’ (2001, 101). I will explore a relativist resolution of this paradox offered by, or on behalf of, endurantists. It maintains that the sitting and the standing are relative to the personal time or proper time of the time traveler and is intended to yield the result that Ted is sitting at a certain initial personal/proper time but is not standing relative to that time. Similarly, it is also supposed to yield that Ted is standing relative to a later personal/proper time, but not sitting relative to that time. Such a traveler-time relativism has been offered by Paul Horwich (1975, 433-5; 1987, 114-15) and also by Simon Keller and Michael Nelson (2001, 344). I will show that this relativist approach is a non-starter. It is so because Ted is sitting and standing at both the initial and the later personal/proper time.

According to the relational approach we have obligations to members of future generations not because of their interests or properties but because, and only because, they are our descendants or successors. Common accounts of relational duties do not explain how we can have obligations to people who do not yet exist. In this defence of the relational approach I examine three sources of intergenerational obligations: the concern of parents for their children, including their future children; the desire of community members to pass on a heritage to their descendants; and the relationship of citizens in an intergenerational polity.

What is the relation between the intention to A and doing A intentionally? It is natural to suppose that the latter entails the former. That is, it is natural to accept what Michael Bratman has called the ‘Simple View’ of the relation between acting intentionally and having an intention. Bratman is one noteworthy writer who has denied that the Simple View is true. In the present paper I do not defend this view. I contend that one well-known argument that Bratman offers for thinking that the Simple View is false fails, in fact, to disprove it. If there are reasons for thinking that the Simple View is false, as I believe there are, they are not the ones that Bratman has offered. My discussion of Bratman also raises some more general questions about the principles governing the rational formation of intentions. I suggest that a special sort of example casts doubt on the tenability of a commonly accepted principle that Bratman, among others, utilizes.

In the literature seeking to explain concepts in terms of their point, talk of ‘the point’ of concepts remains under-theorised. I propose a typology of points which distinguishes practical, evaluative, animating, and inferential points. This allows us to resolve tensions such as that between the ambition of explanations in terms of the points of concepts to be informative and the claim that mastering concepts requires grasping their point; and it allows us to exploit connections between types of points to understand why they come apart, and whether they do so for problematic ideological reasons or for benignly functional reasons.

What kind of semantics should someone who accepts the epistemicist theory of vagueness defended in Timothy Williamson's Vagueness (1994) give a definiteness operator? To impose some interesting constraints on acceptable answers to this question, I will assume that the object language also contains a metaphysical necessity operator and a metaphysical actuality operator. I will suggest that the answer is to be found by working within a three-dimensional model theory. I will provide sketches of two ways of extracting an epistemicist semantics from that model theory, one of which I will find to be more plausible than the other.