For a theist, a man's duty is to conform to the announced will of God. Yet a theist who makes this claim about duty is faced with a traditional dilemma first stated in Plato's Euthyphro—are actions which are obligatory, obligatory because God makes them so (e.g. by commanding men to do them), or does God urge us to do them because they are obligatory anyway? To take the first horn of this dilemma is to claim that God can of his free choice make any action obligatory or non-obligatory (or make it obligatory not to do some action). The critic claims that the theist cannot take this horn, for God cannot make bad actions good.

One of the purposes of this paper is to explore a number of questions which-to judge from what he assumes–Aristotle might well have asked, but which he apparently did not ask. It is often informative in the history of philosophy to point out the (apparently obvious) questions which are not raised; it sets those which are raised in a more precise frame.

It can be argued that Aristotle implies that it is possible to look like a human being–and indeed be called a human being–without “really” or “fully” being one. Leaving aside the status of females (who for Aristotle are males manques, analogous to the blind or deaf, and of children, we cannot be certain that all adult males of the class whose members look like men “really” are men.

Locke tells us that his purpose in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding is “to inquire into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent” (1.1.2). He provides a characterization of general human knowledge as universal truths in propositional form. In doing this he presupposes a striking doctrine about the “extent” of man's general knowledge, and he draws freely upon a theory meant to explain both the materials (the “original”) out of which this knowledge is constructed and the way in which it is constructed. He holds that the “certainty” which characterizes general knowledge is obtained only if we proceed from the right materials or foundations in the right way, and that the right foundations themselves can only be obtained in one specific way. In this study I try to show how much more Cartesian Locke is than many commentators would allow. I argue that on Locke's own view the way to obtain the foundations for general knowledge is that of Cartesian analysis, and the way to construct general knowledge once these foundations have been obtained is that of Cartesian synthesis.

Economic man seeks to maximize utility. The rationality of economic man is assumed, and is identified with the aim of utility-maximization. But may rational activity correctly be identified with maximizing activity? The object of this essay is to explore, and in part to answer, this question.

This is not an issue solely, or perhaps even primarily, about the presuppositions of economics. The two great modern schools of moral and political thought in the English-speaking world, the contractarian and the utilitarian, identify rationality with maximization, and bring morality into their equations as well. To the contractarian, rational man enters civil society to maximize his expectation of well-being, and morality is that system of principles of action which rational men collectively adopt to maximize their well-being. To the utilitarian, the rational and moral individual seeks the maximum happiness of mankind, with which he identifies his own maximum happiness.

In his book, A Theory of Justice, John Rawls suggests that a theory of social justice is satisfactory only if it has both of two characteristics (pp. 182, 6). First, it must be capable of serving as the “public moral basis of society” (p. 182). That is, it must be reasonable to suppose that it would be strictly complied with while serving as the public conception of justice in a society which is in favourable circumstances—a society in which the people would strictly comply with any public conception of justice if the strains of commitment to it were not too great, given the general facts of psychology and moral learning (p. 145, cf. pp. 8, 175-83, 245-6). Second, a theory of justice must characterize “ … our considered judgements in reflective equilibrium” (p. 182).

It has long been believed that if man had a special function appropriate to him, and that if we could discover what it was, then we would be in a perfect position to solve all of the basic problems of ethics. For if we were, for example, shovels, and knew ourselves to be shovels, then we would also know that to spend our lives in digging would best serve our fundamental interests, realize our highest aspirations, and be in every respect the correct thing to do. Or so the theory goes; a theory which is shared, interestingly enough, by Aristotle and Sartre, even though they share little else, and even though one of them believes that man has a function and the other does not.

Monsieur Schouls a établi un certain nombre de points, avec lesquels je me declarerai d'accord. Je crois qu'il a raison d'affirmrr que pour Locke, le fondement de toute connaissance au niveau initial de l'expérience est un divers de la sensation ou de la réflexion formé par des combinations d'idées unies ensemble. D'autre part, la description de la maniere dont l'esprit acquiert la connaissance générale (general knowledge) par un processus d'abstraction et done d'analyse me semble conforme à l'épistémologie de Locke.

Mais je crois que par ce processus, l'esprit atteint seulement le niveau de la connaissance générale; la connaissance générale elle-même consiste dans la démonstration (reasoning) et, meme si la démonstration se raméné à une chaîne d'intuitions, conformément au modèle cartésien des Regulae, c'est seulement dans l'illatio que l'on peut situer ce que M. Schouls qualifie de synthèse: c'est cette illatio qui constitue proprement la science.

D'où le problème de cette éthique démontrable dont il faudrait établir, conformément à cette thèse, le mode de formation “synthétique” à partir d'axiomes et de principes.

In his paper “The Meaning of a Word” J. L. Austin argues that a set of questions and (hence?) a set of answers to these questions is nonsensical. The philosophical claim that a question or answer is nonsense is an important part of the philosopher's stock and trade; for to ask and to propose answers to nonsensical questions is to reveal confusion and the tracking down and unraveling of confusion is one of the valuable contributions that philosophy has to make in the advancement of understanding.

At the same time one must not accept too easily the charge that a question or a form of answer to a question is nonsensical, for to do this is to block off a whole avenue of inquiry and therein direct one's efforts away from a route that might yield positive results.

After almost a decade, the discussion initiated by Professor Edmund Gettier's provocative paper “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” continues. The most recent contribution to this discussion is Professor John Turk Saunders' attempt to counter Professor Irving Thalberg's claim that a principle that Gettier employs in reaching his notorious negative conclusion is unjustified. I am moved to add to the discussion at this time because it seems to me that the principle in question is unjustified. But more fundamentally, Gettier's argument fails because the putative counter-examples on which it rests fail to make their intended point. I shall discuss these claims in turn.

The epistemic principle which I consider unjustified is the one which Thalberg has called the Principle of Deducibility for Justification (PDJ) and which Gettier formulates as follows: “for any proposition P, if S is justified in believing P, and P entails Q, and S deduces Q from P and accepts Q as a result of this deduction, then S is justified in believing Q.”

John Rawls, in his distinguished revival and animation of the theory of the social contract, maintains that “the procedure of contract theories provides … a general analytic method for the comparative study of conceptions of justice ” (p. 121). As a corollary, he holds, secondly, that “if one interpretation [of the contractual situation] is philosophically most favoured, and if its principles characterize our considered judgments, we have a procedure for justification as well ” (p. 122). Finally, Rawls uses the social contract as a critical or polemic device; he is prepared to reject a conception of justice if the contractual situation associated with it contains objectionable features.

There are many echoes of Descartes and of other Cartesians (especially Arnauld) in Locke's Essay. There is one particularly curious passage in the Essay which is clearly taken from the Regulae. This passage may be the one clear instance of the method of analysis and synthesis in Locke. Before I cite that passage, I want to raise a few questions about some of the claims in Professor Schouls’ paper.

(1) Professor Schouls is right to call attention to the need for some careful analysis of the concept of experience in Locke. He concentrates upon the form experience takes initially (p. 583): lf“he means temporally first, as with infants (p. 595 speaks of “our initial sentient state“), the examples he cites do not fit this concept. The quotes he gives on p. 583 all refer to adult, sophisticated experience, not to the learning experience of children (Cf. p. 586). There is a rudimentary genetic psychology in Locke's Essay and in his Education. He does list some brief order in the acquisition of ideas by children, in the very earliest stages of experience, e.g., with the foetus, “some faint ideas of hunger, and thirst, and warmth, and some pains” are acquired (1.4.2).

People do, quite naturally and not uncommonly, speak of other people as deceiving themselves, as being their own dupes. A man's child is ill and growing constantly worse. The father keeps talking optimistically about the future, keeps explaining away the evidence, and keeps pointing to what he insists are signs of improvement. We can easily imagine ourselves deciding that he has deceived himself about his son's condition. Nor is it the case that talk of self-deception is appropriate only in connection with other people. We can easily imagine the father admitting, say, after the son's death, that he has deceived himself about the child's condition. Thus the notion of self-deception obviously has application. Furthermore, ordinarily talk of self-deception is not thought to be puzzling.

The problem to be discussed here concerns ontology so far as it may not be formed by scientific theory. In brief terms, the problem arises in the following way. On the one hand, the world surely consists of whatever is there, irrespective of whether human beings are around or not, and irrespective especially of whether human beings have constructed any scientific theories depicting the nature of the world; on the other hand, scientific theories are subject to the limitation that we can never verify them or prove them to be true, so that the ontology prescribed by scientific theory is not firmly established but is only what is attributed to the world by a fallible scientific theory at any given time. The problem could also be put in terms of ‘conceptual networks’ or in terms of language-systems.

Hume maintained that “since all actions and sensations of the mind are known to us by consciousness, they must necessarily appear in every particular what they are, and be what they appear.” Descartes maintained a very similar doctrine, and Locke and Berkeley held at least part of the doctrine. I shall not try to set out precisely what any of these philosophers thought about self-knowledge; I cite them simply as proponents of the general view which I shall be examining in this paper: namely, that each of us has a special epistemic authority about his own mental life. This view is still widely held, particularly in the form of the thesis that one's sincere avowals of current mental states are incorrigible, i.e., such that, necessarily, no one ever has overriding reason to think them false.

Within the limitations which I have set for myself ‒ namely, those of a discussion of the attaining of the foundations for general knowledge, and of the construction of general knowledge once these foundatio11s have been obtained ‒Professor Yolton agrees with my argument. His major concern consists in urging me to extend my thesis into the domain of knowledge of nature. The main question is whether the method I have argued is present in Locke's Essay can help account for particular knowledge claims Locke might make in physics rather than in the realm of conceptual relations, in the realm of the mixed modes of mathematics, geometry, and morals. The difficulty I here face (and hence one reason for the limitation of my thesis to that of general knowledge) is stated unambiguously by Locke himself:

There appear to be a number of general things which can be said about forgiveness. If these are left sufficiently vague they seem to be applicable to all the situations in which the term is used.

First, there can be no question of forgiveness unless an injury has been inflicted on somebody by a moral agent. There must be something to forgive; and the injury that is to be forgiven must be one for which a moral agent can be held responsible. One cannot forgive a rock for falling on one's foot or a cougar for attacking one's child—even though a child might kick the rock and a father might shoot the cougar.

W. V. Quine had, in Word and Object, drawn prominent attention to the opacity of the necessity operator, by comparing the sentences

and

Of these, Quine had said, “surely, on any plausible interpretation, (1) is true and (2) is false. Since 9 = the number of major planets, we can conclude that the position of ‘9’ in (1) is not purely referential and hence that the necessity operator is opaque.” The puzzle has generated a good deal of interest, particularly with an eye to the prospects of quantifying in modal contexts. But, given the substantial literature that has sprung up around the issue, it is rather easy to misunderstand the force of any challenge to Quine's account.

One might want to say that the difference between an apple and the colour red is a greater difference than that between an apple and a pear, between red and blue. In the same vein, one might want to say that the philosopher's question “What, really, is a piece of wax?” has greater generality than the more ordinary question “What distinguishes a piece of wax from a piece of soap?” I think Wittgenstein would say that to talk in this way (and it is the same way in each case) is to make the difference at issue seem too slight, so that we fail to see what the difference really amounts to.

I should like to suggest that the following thesis is pervasive and fundamental in Wittgenstein's later teaching.

In this paper I want to suggest that, while the argued philosophical distinction between logic, epistemolgoy and ontology is one of the many achievements of Aristotle, his predecessor Parmenides was in fact already operating with a theory of knowledge and an elementary propositional logic that are of abiding philosophical interest. As part of the thesis I shall be obliged to reject a number of interpretations of particular passages in his poem, including one or two currently fashionable ones. Since so much turns on points of translation, I note for purposes of comparison what seem to be significant alternatives to my own in any particular instance. The line numbers are those of the DK text.