In 1987, Roy Sorensen coined the term ‘parahistory’ to denote the study of genuinely anachronistic artefacts delivered by time travel.1 ‘Parahistory’ would thus stand to history rather as parapsychology is claimed to stand to psychology, i.e. the parahistorian would study historical data that were obtained through channels that orthodox science does not recognise. How might one establish credentials as a time traveller? What sort of evidence could a time-traveller point to in support of claims that would presumably command a great deal of scepticism? While successful predictions might be one confirmatory tool, supporting evidence needn't take the form of predictions. (Although Sorensen offers an intriguing argument that a Humean about miracle-testimony would be obliged to reject any testimony to the occurrence of time travel.) Perhaps artefacts that time travellers retrieve from other times (past or future) could usefully supplement testimonial or predictive evidence for the parahistorian. However, this paper will argue, any appeal to past-artefactual evidence for parahistorical claims faces a dilemma that threatens to undermine its value: appeals to past-artefact evidence must either collapse into appeals to predictive evidence or see their value diminished by such past artefacts' necessarily exhibiting contradictory indicators of age and period.

The latest attempt by a determined, well-resourced lobby to introduce a law to permit assisted suicide/euthanasia in the UK was announced 15 May 2013 in the House of Lords. There are many dangerous facets to their arguments, not least of which is the rôle they cast for doctors in this debate.

Rush Rhees' remarks on the topic display a depth that is lacking in the current debate in the public square, which needs to be lifted from its current low level.

I try to show inter alia why the question of who is ‘qualified to speak’ in this deep moral dilemma is important (doctors are not special moral agents); why resistance is vital against a law, which must be general, permitting assisted suicide/euthanasia (‘hard cases’ make notoriously bad law which can have catastrophic consequences); how one group of (non-disabled) people judging another group of (disabled) people as candidates for elimination, is based on the false notion that a disabled life is ‘not worth living’; that so many of the deep moral questions raised by assisted suicide/euthanasia are not even considered in the contemporary impoverished public debate.

This book is a piece of philosophical work of extremely high intellectual quality. Its purpose is to defend in detail a ‘resolute’ reading of the Tractatus. It succeeds in this aim. It thus accomplishes something that has not yet been accomplished even by Conant or Diamond. It is therefore a major contribution to ‘Wittgenstein studies’, to contemporary philosophy and to the philosophical history of recent philosophy. (It has significant implications, for instance, for the work of Freudians, Sartreans, Griceans, Davidsonians.)

I compare Locke's views on the nature and powers of the self with E. J. Lowe's view, ‘non-Cartesian substance dualism’. Lowe agrees with Locke that persons have a power to choose or not to choose. Lowe takes this power to be non-causal. I argue that this move does not obviously succeed in evading the notorious interaction problem that arises for all forms of substance dualism, including those of Locke and Descartes. However, I am sympathetic to Lowe's attempt to give a metaphysical account of a robust sort of agency that would explain how human beings might be genuinely autonomous.

Anthony Quinton's ‘The Trouble with Kant’ (Philosophy, Vol. 72, no. 279, January, 1997, pp. 5–18) claims to expose radical faults in Kant's epistemology which are not pointed out ‘in the many commentators (he) has studied’ (p. 17). The faults are, initially, that Kant is a ‘wild and intellectually irresponsible arguer’ (p. 5), and finally that Kant's account of a priori intuitions and concepts is erroneous (p. 16). Quinton suggests that his objections are new, but the truth is that they, and the supposedly Kantian views against which they are directed, have formed a frequent response in commentators from Hegel to Strawson. The ‘wild and irresponsible arguer’ charge is, after all, a commonplace among the ‘fighting Kant tooth and nail’ commentators, though it remains to be shown that Kant is markedly worse than other philosophers of the same period. And the central claim against which Quinton directs his assault, that we impose a spatio-temporal-categorial framework on the manifold of sensation (pp. 5 and 7), has provoked fierce and extensive hostility. Throughout his article Quinton assumes an interpretation of Kant's claim in which his task is to show how our minds construct a common, objective, reality from a spatio-temporal-categorial synthesis ‘by applying a piece of mental apparatus ... to ... a manifold of sensation’ (p. 5). The familiar objections to a ‘coloured spectacles’ interpretation of Kant's account of space and time, and Strawson's initial rejection of the ‘imaginary subject of transcendental psychology’ (Bounds of Sense (London; Methuen, 1966) p. 32) belong to the same tradition.

An ill-informed reading of Adam Ferguson's epitaph has given me an idea for securing posthumous recognition. Consider philosophers in the year 2201 who read my epitaph: ‘Here lies Roy Sorensen who will be long remembered for his paradoxes’. If these future scholars remember me, then well and good. If they do not remember me, my epitaph will appear to be rendered false by their failure to recall me. Suppose the poignancy of this self-defeat leads my epitaph to be widely repeated. I thereby acquire ignominy as the forgotten philosopher. But wait! Eventually someone will notice that no one can remember that Roy Sorensen is forgotten. For if someone did remember that Roy Sorensen is forgotten, then he would be forgotten—not remembered. After all, memory implies truth. Thus the self-defeating aspect of my epitaph is itself self-defeating! The happy ending is that my epitaph becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy by a curious kind of double-negation.

The paper offers a general critique of physicalism and of one variety of nonphysicalism, arguing that such theses are untenable. By distinguishing between the absolute conception of reality and the causal completeness of physics it shows that the ‘explanatory gap’ is not merely epistemic but metaphysical. It defends the essential subjectivity and unity of consciousness and its inseparability from a self-conscious autonomous rational and moral being. Casting a favourable light on dualism freed from misconceptions, it suggests that the only plausible way forward in the search for an understanding of both physical and mental reality is a recognition of the mind as a metaphysically distinct entity.

This article concerns arguments for the impossibility of contact action and, subsequently, the use of force fields to render intelligible apparent cases of contact action. I argue that instead of unraveling the mystery of contact action, fields only deepen the mystery. Further, I show that there is a confusion underlying arguments for the impossibility of contact and present an analysis of contact, based upon Körner's treatment of empirical continuity, which restores intelligibility to apparent cases of contact action.

In the paper, starting from a slightly modified version of van Fraassen's pragmatic approach to explanation, I will propose a pragmatical meta-model for the different biological explanatory models. That is, I will offer a pragmatic point of view to rule different explanatory models in function of the biological context from which the given biologist explains.

In his recent ‘A Prolegomenon to an Identity Theory of Truth’ (Vol. 74, 1999) Stewart Candlish discusses the so called identity theory of truth. His aim in the article is to clear away initial difficulties that apparently stand in the way of developing the budding theory. There is one difficulty, however, that, by Candlish's lights, cannot be overcome—at least not easily. My aim in this paper is to help the identity theory by showing that, pace Candlish, the given difficulty is merely apparent. I do not ‘solve’ the alleged problem; I dissolve it. Dissolution, however, is solution enough.

With the explosion of courses in the ethics of various fields, medical, managerial, environmental and so on, the question of the nature of the philosophical enterprise is once again a live topic. Maybe as a result of sensitivity to accusations of bias and preaching in the way individual philosophers might teach these courses, the supposedly discredited conceptual analysis view is once again gaining adherents. Philosophers ought to clarify concepts and commitments, but they ought not to argue for particular concepts or commitments. When they do, they exceed their brief as philosophers, and become proponents of particular causes and world-views. And this is unprofessional, not to be tolerated in the academy.

Walter Burleigh in his c. 1323 De Puritate Artis Logicae Tractatus Longior considers a counterexample to hypothetical syllogism. The paradox implied by Burleigh's inference has come to be known as the problem of the ass (asinum), or, more prosaically, ‘You are an ass’. The argument states: ‘If I call you an ass, then I call you an animal; if I call you an animal, then I speak truthfully; therefore, if I call you an ass, then I speak truthfully’. Burleigh's paradox is reconstructed and formalized for purposes of critical analysis, in which the putative counterexample is ultimately shown to involve a fallacy of equivocation.

In her well-known paper ‘Modern Moral Philosophy’ (Philosophy, 1958) G. E. M. Anscombe makes the following assertion: ‘he [Sidgwick] thinks that humility consists in underestimating your own merits—i.e. in a species of untruthfulness’. I should like to show that this is not so.