Thoughts on materialism.

(Note: These ideas of mine are not fully developed, but I think they make a point in an interesting direction. But don't hold me to them.)

In his discussion of Type-Identity theory (the most basic flavor of materialism), Ramsey brought up one common objection to this view of the mind. It seems completely obvious that the mind has particular properties that it simply does not share with the physical brain. Two obvious examples are non-spatiality and intentionality-- properties that are attributed to the mind, but which we feel we cannot attribute to the brain.

Ramsey indicated that the materialist might respond by simply redefining some important terms, so that they do in fact mesh with the materialist's point of view. He might say, for example, that the mind actually is spatially located-- it is located wherever the appropriate neurological activity is located. And the brain actually does exhibit intentionality-- if all we mean by "intentionality" is that certain patterns of brain processes consistently correspond to particular external events.

I wonder, though, if this kind of redefinition of terms really gets us any closer to solving the problems we were originally interested in. It certainly allows our concepts of the mind and the brain to grow closer together, and (maybe) ultimately collapse onto one another. But I don't think that answers the questions originally posed by the philosophy of mind.

Originally, we wanted to know how intentionality-- understood in a particular abstract way-- could be achieved by physical matter. The materialist's solution to the problem is to posit that the old understanding of "intentionality" was mistaken. He replaces that old understanding with a new concept, one that easily sidesteps the original problem. But notice that the old problem hasn't gone away. If, in my own thoughts, I revert back to the old meaning, I see that I still haven't been shown how matter exhibits abstract intentionality. The materialist hasn't given any independent reason why his new concept is the "right" one. All it does is avoid addressing the problem. How is that a solution?

In other words, I don't think a mere redefinition of our language actually tells us anything about the outside world. Think of it this way: according to our most recent understanding, the body called "Pluto" is not a planet. We might have treated it as a planet before (with its own, somewhat quirky characteristics), but that was when we had a particular undeveloped concept of what a planet is. Now that the concept has been revised, the quirkiness of Pluto has gone away-- not because its behavior is any different, but because we no longer categorize it in a way where its behavior presents any problems. But really, we don't know anything about Pluto that we didn't know before.

Ask yourself this question: In our redefinition of the concept, and the concomitant disappearance of the previous perceived problems, have we really learned anything about the external world? Or have we simply made things easier on ourselves?

Relive It.

And just for kicks, follow this link to hear an all-out on-air meltdown by a sports commentator from a radio station in Michigan. Trust me. You'll love it.

Four Choices. Take your pick.

As an overall introduction to the problems addressed by philosophy of mind, I wanted to review what our standard, intuitive commitments are. These are the four parts of the tetrad presented in class:

1. The mind is non-material.

2. The body is material.

3. The body and mind interact.

4. Material and non-material do not interact.

So, at least one of the above premises must be abandoned. The fun part about this problem is, we don't have any good reason to choose any one of the four over any other. And even worse, any one we choose carries with it enormous problems that must be addressed.

The standard view of the mind (which I assume for the moment that most of you hold)-- interactionism-- tells us that premise 4 must be given up. But that decision immediately introduces the question of how, exactly, the mind can control the body. Hmmm.

Parallelism allows us to give up premise 3. The mind and the body each follow their individual (admittedly correlated) paths, and never the twain shall meet. Problem is, that means one of the two pieces is useless.

Materialism-- the complete reducibility of the mind to the brain-- lets us get rid of premise 1. But then consciousness, sensation, thought content, and even logic don't make any sense.

Giving up on premise 2 is just plain nuts.

So those are your choices. Good luck with that one.

Utter Joy.

That was amazing.

I don't know where it came from, but watch this video. It's a field-level view of the last play, followed by the team's sideline celebration with the band and the students.

We Are ND. There's your first taste of exactly what that means.



(By the way, I didn't get to any philosophy posts last week because I was depressed until Tuesday, and grading your papers the rest of the week. Look for some new stuff later this week.)

Yuck.

I might as well teach you what this weekend is all about.

First, a detailed history of the deep-seated animosity between Notre Dame and Michigan. If anyone ever asks why Notre Dame won't join the Big Ten, the history with Michigan is reason enough.

Next, a brief rundown of the illustrious career of one Bo Schembechler. These are the accomplishments that Michigan fans take pride in. ND just counts national titles.

Finally, a metaphysical analysis of the utter vacuity that is U of M.
Go Irish. Beat Skunkbears.

Teleological Argument

(Note: This post is covering what we talked about in the second section, which the first section didn't get to hear. What I'm covering extends beyond what Paley himself argued in the reading, so none of this should be especially relevant for your papers.)

Ramsey introduced a good analogy to explain the teleological argument-- the rows of flowers in a clearing in the woods. The perfect rows suggest that the arrangement was designed, for the purpose of achieving an aesthetically pleasing look.

But we might find that the perfect arrangement came about through wholly natural causes. Perhaps the flowers require a mineral that happened to be laid down in regular striations in the earth. When the natural cause is discovered, it serves as a better explanation for the arrangement, and the teleological argument for a designer loses its force.

The flower situation is analogous to our perception of biological systems. The arrangement of biological parts in order to serve the survival purpose of the organism suggests a designer who did the arranging with this purpose in mind. But the discovery of evolution suggests that the arrangement could have come about through wholly natural laws. If evolution serves as a better explanation of the arrangment, then the teleological argument will lose its force.

(Sidenote: The Intelligent Design movement, as it is currently presented, does not do much to undermine the objection that the theory of evolution provides. ID focuses on the complex arrangement of parts. But remember, complexity of arrangement is not the hallmark of design-- otherwise we might say the solar system must have been designed, and not many people insist on that. It is arrangement that serves a purpose that indicates design.)

But there is one more thing to note about the flower analogy. Once the alternative explanation (the mineral striations arising through natural causes) is discovered, we must admit that the flower bed is not arranged for any purpose at all. We must say that what we had taken to be designed for a purpose was only apparently designed.

The situation is the same in the biological realm. If evolution is an objection that undermines the teleological argument, then we must say the design we naively thought we saw before was merely apparent. There is no way to maintain evolution as the cause of all biological phenomena, and also take the view that biological activity serves a genuine purpose for an organism.

I do not think anyone seriously takes that view. All of our language is geared toward discussing animal activity (and plant activity, for that matter) in terms of serving particular ends. We do not talk about biology in terms of prior causes mechanically determining behavior, we talk about biological activity in terms of the goals of the organism (what Aristotle called final causes).

Ask yourself: Why did the chicken cross the road? (Hint: It's not because the chemical activity in his cells fired his muscle fibers and propelled his body forward.)

Something to think about...

Cosmological Argument

I'm going to tread lightly around this topic, because I don't yet know precisely what your paper assignment is going to be and I don't want to give away the farm. But here are a couple of general comments.

The argument is based around the idea that all things are either caused by something else (or, preferably, are explained by something other than themselves), or they are not. The latter possibility can be further analyzed into two choices: a thing can be explained by itself, or it can be explained by nothing at all.

The cosmological argument can only get off the ground if this final possibility is taken off the table. That is, if we allow objects to be explained by nothing at all, the question driving the argument-- "Why this?"-- is a moot point. Or at least any answer given will not serve as a proof of anything, because the alternative possibility-- that there is no answer to the question-- is always available.

It is the role of the Principle of Sufficient Reason to reduce our possibilities to only two: a thing has another thing as its explanation, or a thing has itself as its explanation. I anticipate that how the PSR accomplishes this will be our major topic for discussion on Friday. For now, please leave some comments with your thoughts to get the ball rolling.

Snow Bowl Revisited.

There hasn't been a highlights video put together for the GT game yet. But here's a little something to get you excited for Penn St. You've probably seen the poster from this play.



Down by 7 in the closing minute, the Irish finished off a memorable comeback by going for two.



I was personally seated in field seats in that endzone, but toward the other sideline. Couldn't see a damn thing.

And finally, here's a highlights video of the entire game (created, again, by Nevin O'Donnell).



By the way, just to make me feel old, do any of you even remember this game?

Give This One To The Defense

And really, what could be more encouraging than that?

Discussion Wrap-Up

I wanted to tie up a couple of loose ends from the argument I was making about the Statue of Liberty (especially for the second section, where nobody was buying what I was selling).

Consider three different objects:

1. A green Statue of Liberty. This is a possible object, since it actually exists (the left-most column of my chart).

2. A purple Statue of Liberty. This object doesn't exist, but it might have. So it's merely possible (the middle column of my chart).

3. A purple Statue of Liberty that exists. This object doesn't exist (the only Statue of Liberty in the world is not purple). Before we even get to the question of whether it might have existed, notice that a contradiction has already shown up. The description of the object says that it exists. An examination of the world says it doesn't. I think we can call this a logical contradiction, in the same way a squared circle logically contradicts itself. And in both cases of self-contradictory objects, we say the objects are impossible (the right-most column of my chart).

How does all this apply to the ontological argument? Remember, at the very end I said God either shows up in the "Possible and Existing" category (Rowe mentions this as well), or in the "Impossible" category (where, necessarily, God wouldn't exist).

Recall also the second premise of the argument: "God is a possible being." One of two things is happening. The premise might be true-- in which case God belongs in the "Possible and Existing" column. But if God belongs there, then the second premise is basically stating that God exists. The argument begs the question because the conclusion-- "God exists in reality"-- shows up in one of the premises (albeit not explicitly).

Or the premise might be false. God might be an impossible being, because he doesn't exist even though a list of his traits says he does. But if the premise is false, the argument is unsound, and we haven't deductively proven the conclusion.

In either of these two cases, the argument is flawed. And there are no other possibilities.

But like I said, this is not the only way the argument can be attacked-- Ramsey will give his own objection on Tuesday. Strange, then, that the argument can be attacked in two different ways. If the argument doesn't work, shouldn't there be a single objection that everyone acknowledges is the problem?