When the terms ‘control’ and ‘experiment’ are used in reference to the methodological procedures of the social sciences, frequently the question is raised as to whether or not the investigator uses the terms in the same sense as the natural scientist. The purpose of this paper is to show that the social scientist has good reason to use them in the same sense and that in fact this usage is consistent with a long tradition of social research. This will be shown by an investigation of some common assumptions in the social sciences, such as, (a) the claim that the social sciences are younger than the natural sciences and that the former have depended upon the latter for methodological cues, (b) that human behavior is ultimately inexplicable and unpredictable, and (c) that the social scientist is unable to observe human behavior under controlled, experimental conditions except in trivial instances. Of course, not all social scientists make these assumptions but they occur in the literature and their significance is considerable when the scientific status of the social sciences is being discussed.

In what follows our purpose is to make clear the reasons which lie back of Whitehead's appeal to eternal objects in his explanation of the emergence of actual entities and to show that so long as one operates within his scheme of ideas no other consistent explanation is available. A thoroughgoing reconstruction of the scheme is necessary if this presupposition is to be eliminated. If the project is successful, it will be demonstrated that the theory of actual entities provides no basis for the explanation of the emergence of novel things, which is one of the major tenets of the organic philosophy. The argument will develop by way of an analysis of the theory of “physical relatedness.”

Existing “no hidden variable proofs” for quantum mechanics deal exclusively with observables with discrete spectra. This note shows that similar results hold for observables with continuous spectra.

I present new counterexamples to the asymmetry of grounding: we have prima facie reason to think that some conditional probabilities partially ground their inverse conditional probabilities, and vice versa. These new counterexamples may require that we reject the asymmetry of grounding or, alternatively, that we reject one or more of the assumptions (regarding, e.g., the correct interpretation of probability) that enable the counterexamples. Either way, by reflecting on these purported counterexamples to grounding asymmetry, we learn something important, either about the formal properties of grounding or about the nature of probability (or both).

This note scouts a broad but underexplored class of explanations found in contemporary computer science. These explanations, which I call limitative explanations, explain why certain problems cannot be solved computationally. Limitative explanations are philosophically rich, but have not received the attention they deserve. The primary goals of this note are to isolate limitative explanations and provide a preliminary account of what makes them explanatory. On the account I favor, limitative explanations are a kind of non-causal mathematical explanation which depend on highly idealized models of computation.

Merton envisioned his norms of science at a time when peer-reviewed journals controlled scientific communication. Technologies for sharing and finding content have since divorced the certification and amplification of science, generating systemic vulnerabilities. Certified amplification—a new Mertonian-styled norm—enjoins their recoupling and introduces a taxonomy of strategies adopted by institutions to close the certification-amplification gap, including the proportioning of the one to the other. Examples illustrating each taxonomic type collectively paint a picture of an ethos employing a rich range of certification and amplification techniques and emerging in a decentralized fashion across heterogeneous objects, communication modalities, and institutions.

According to David Albert, there are certain situations where we can cause events that lie in our past. In response to a well-known objection that we never observe backward causation, he argues that there are good reasons why we can’t tell when it obtains. However, I identify another difficulty with Albert’s view: at face value, it has the unattractive consequence that backward causation is not just possible, but rife. In this article, I show how this implication can be blocked. I then use my analysis to defend Albert’s account from a second well-known objection, namely, that it allows us to control the past.

My aim here is (1) to argue that the usual argument for thinking that dysfunction has no place in a dispositionalist approach to functions is deeply flawed and (2) to develop a positive account of the explanatory role dysfunction attributions play in dispositionalist-style functional analysis. I also argue that while my account undermines one common motivation for preferring an etiological over a dispositionalist approach, perhaps more interestingly, it also blurs the boundary between the two and opens a path to unifying them.

Oversight institutions that hold science and scientists accountable for responsible science have thus far not focused on the general societal impact of science. Responsibility for societal impact is now a pervasive aspect of scientific practice, but accountability remains elusive. I argue here that we should proceed cautiously, and that only clear and precise floors for responsibility should have accountability mechanisms. For the remainder of societal responsibilities in science, we should institutionalize assistive ethical mechanisms, which help scientists meet their responsibilities and share rather than offload ethical labor.

In recent issues of the Journal of Philosophy John Dewey and Arthur Bentley have been making an attack on certain logical positivists and other logicians on the ground, of all things, that they display amazing contempt for clear and consistent definition of the terms they use. That logicians, whose business it is to define consistency, should themselves be inconsistent in the use of their basic terms is not really so surprising. It may merely prove them to be human, the victims of a simple failure to practice what they preach. If this were the case, the situation would not be so bad, for who better than a drunkard knows the evils of drink? And yet it is equally human to require preacher to be practitioner as well. So that the spankings which Bentley and Dewey are currently administering to Carnap, Cohen, Nagel, Ducasse, Lewis and Morris are quite in order. In fact in the case of the logical positivists they are long overdue. Carnap, particularly, has long outraged patience as well as common sense with rambling verbal analysis of the meaning of terms used in the exposition of logical positivism.

There are styles in thinking just as there are in dress. Their justification is often as slight, and once a style in thought has been established, it is followed with the same unconscious readiness. The possibility of styles lies, of course, in a lack of fixed criterions. In dress, the choice to a large extent is a matter of taste, and because taste varies from individual to individual and from time to time, styles also change. Although the foundations of science are far more stable than those of taste, they yet have some touch of uncertainty. We live in a relative world, not an absolute one, and thus there is always room for the point of view to shift. We like to feel that we ourselves and the world in general are growing wiser, and thus that while there were errors in the thinking of the past, they are now being rapidly eliminated. The discovery that some philosopher of several thousand years ago held almost our identical views is always disconcerting.