THESISxii
A Philosophical Review
Volume 8 • Number 1
September, 2000
Inside this Issue:
Matt Silliman
DARWINIAN ENDS
A Reply to Mathiesen
Kelly Crosier
IN PRAISE OF VIRTUAL REALITY
Ellen Kelly
AGAINST VIRTUAL REALITY
Eric Moore
MODERATE PERFECTIONISM REFINED
A Reply to Taylor
Theresa Doherty
SECOND CHANCE
Todd Falkowski
ON THE UNIVERSALITY OF SYLLOGISTIC LOGIC
Darwinian Ends
A Reply to Mathiesen
Matt Silliman
‡ In her reply to Bill Taylor's critique of Scruton, Kay Mathiesen emphasizes an important and often-neglected distinction between epistemological and ontological unpredictability. Clearly, a process can appear random, especially viewed from its midst, when in fact it is designed to produce a specific outcome. I will argue, however, that Taylor is essentially correct (though he may slightly overstate his case) that the indeterminacy of Darwinian evolutionary outcomes is ontological, not merely epistemological. Not Ockham's Razor alone, but the character of historical processes in finite timespans itself militates against teleological interpretation.
First to cede some ground: the "outcome" in question can be nothing so specific as moral consciousness, intellectual ability, or social organization among Homo Sapiens. It would be too easy to show that such a particular result is radically contingent on purely accidental directions taken by the planet's history. Most dramatically, a meteorite that happened to strike the Yucatan Peninsula roughly twenty-six million years ago virtually wiped out the dinosaurian land animals then dominant (their remnants seem to have evolved into birds), opening an ecological niche for mammals, who might well otherwise have remained marginal, gerbil-like creatures with tiny brains. I will grant, therefore, that the outcome allegedly planned by the divine designer must be something pretty general, such as that intelligent and perhaps even language-using life of some sort would eventually develop (so that it could conceive of and praise God, or whatever).
I will further concede that there are algorithms in dialectical processes such as evolution that can tend, under certain conditions, toward increasing relative intellectual ability in some species, once some degree of intelligence has developed. For example, given a relatively stable environment and a long-term relationship between two species, one of which preys upon the other, selective pressure will often favor differential reproductive success for faster, cleverer individuals of both species. Over the very long term, the general population of each species will tend to have sharper senses, quicker reactions, greater ability to anticipate and respond to encounters with the other, and the larger brains and more complex neurological development these enhanced abilities demand. The resulting brain capacity, which develops to cope with a particular set of conditions, becomes a general (and highly versatile) capacity that can be commandeered for entirely unrelated purposes, such as philosophy, basketball, etc. To this extent, then, Mathiesen (and the Pope (1)) could be right to maintain that evolution might be the process by which God intentionally created intelligent life.
However, there are many radical contingencies that might have intervened to prevent such a process from getting started, or reaching fruition once begun. I will discuss one of the most crucial: the development of multicellular life. Stephen Jay Gould (2) and others have observed that our habitual designation of the epochs of life tend to be anthropocentric; by almost any measure (sheer numbers, variety, adaptability, biomass, and so forth) we are not in the age of mammals as opposed to dinosaurs, or even the age of vertebrates as opposed to insects. We live in the same age that has been dominant since the dawn of life on earth: the age of bacteria. For all its vaunted complexity and variety, multicellular life is a fragile accident, restricted to a very narrow range of environmental conditions, that might well never have happened, and (geologically speaking) probably will not last very long.
Of course, if life had an unlimited span of time available to sustain this and other crucial leaps (e.g. nucleated cells, cellular specialization, sexual reproduction, and so forth), it is reasonable to presume that sooner or later, by a process of trial and error, coupled with the tendency of workable forms to self-perpetuate, intelligent life of some description would probably emerge. Thus if God had, as part of His design, an unlimited number of parallel or sequential universes in which to run His experiment, He could be assured of eventual success (3).
However, if we confine ourselves to our own universe, the window of opportunity for multicellular (and eventually intelligent) life to develop is comparatively small. It cannot arise until a planet has cooled sufficiently, radiation levels dropped to manageable levels, etc., and it must quickly develop to precarious levels of sophistication before the planet freezes, is engulfed in some stage of solar decline, or suffers some terminal accident such as collision with a comet. This is at best only a few hundred million years (in the case of our own planet) during which the conditions might be right for a fortuitous concatenation of accidents to lead to beings like us -- which seems like a long time from the perspective of our lifespans but is far from the eternity God needs to know that his creation will succeed.
In summary: Mathiesen contends that God, being omniscient, could predict such large-scale results as intelligent life even from a process (such as evolution) that has significant random elements. Thus, she concludes, evolution is not inconsistent with God's ends, since it is capable of producing His "crowning…achievement of creation." I argue, on the contrary, that the constraints of time, coupled with the radically contingent nature of the development of life (in particular the critical move to multicellular life, and other necessary and fragile developments) mean that we don't need Ockham's Razor to dispense with the teleological argument for God; a simple washcloth will do the trick (4).
Notes
(1) In a papal encyclical in 1998, Pope John Paul attempted to end Roman Catholicism's 140-year history of opposition to evolutionary theory by contending that evolution may well have been God's method of creation. However, if my argument is cogent, he fails in his effort to bring science closer to revealed religion.
(2) See, for example, Stephen Jay Gould Full House; the Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin (Random House, 1997).
(3) This is, of course, abstractly possible, and leaves a loophole large enough to push God through. However, the theoretical complexity such a hypothesis requires, in the absence of any non-theological reason for posing it, smacks of special pleading to retain God at all costs, and still fails to show what the teleological argument claims, that God intends evolution to produce intelligence on our own planet. In any case, a defense of God requiring such extreme metaphysical postulates hardly constitutes a rational argument.
(4) I hold Dave Johnson responsible for this metaphor.
Matt Silliman teaches Philosophy at MCLA
~~~
In Praise of Virtual Reality
Kelly Crosier
‡ Virtual Reality would give people with physical disabilities the opportunity to experience sensations and explore places that are not accessible to them. Virtual reality is an artificial environment created with computer hardware and software and presented to the user in such a way that it appears and feels like a real environment. A physically disabled person only needs to have the goggles, which provide the 3-D imagery, earphones, and in some instances special gloves, to "enter" virtual reality.
The goggles, for example, track head and body movements. Imagine yourself in the situation of being paralyzed, unable to walk through a forest, or unable to do what able-bodied people can do. You place on your goggles, earphones, and glove. As you move your eyes the goggles track the movement and respond accordingly by sending new video input. You are now in a forest with tall trees, hills, streams, and you are able to see and hear everything that goes on there.
Virtual reality can be used to create the illusion of reality, or imagined reality. Would the virtual experience of the simulation of walking, swimming, playing sports, and running be different than the physical experience of feeling the wind against you, the water surrounding you, or would your other senses take over? In most cases at least two of the five senses are being used, seeing and hearing; I believe you will feel the wind and the water if you let yourself feel it.
Pat Coyne suggests that the "obvious next step is virtual sex” (1). Some may also suggest that this would be an overall bad idea, but from a physically disabled person's point of view I see it differently. Sex is a normal part of a human being's life, and many disabled people are not lucky enough to have a partner to help them fulfill that need. Virtual reality may change that. I believe that sex is 99% what your mind makes of it, it is not just a physical action. In this case Immanual Kant was right when he said "The mind is itself the lawgiver to nature". He also argued that "we in fact never have knowledge of reality, but only of things as they appear to us, and that the mind itself contributes the form in which we know appearances" (2).
With virtual reality it would appear to me that I am in the forest, give me the feeling that I am running and even the sensations of sexual activity. My mind can take me wherever I choose to go. No one can live in a virtual reality state his or her entire life. There is nothing wrong with disabled people wanting to escape from their lives for a period of time. It is like reading a book and picturing yourself as the characters, visualizing their experiences, or getting lost within the setting.
Some may say that virtual reality will just be bringing an escape to those who feel their lives are not as fulfilled as they could be. Instead of facing the truth of their lives, disabled people could get lost within the virtual world. Facing reality is a very large aspect of coming to terms with a disability and accepting oneself.
Notes
(1) In R. P. Wolff, About Philosophy, p. 347.
(2) Ibid., p. 341.
Kelly Crosier is a student at MCLA
~~~
Against Virtual Reality
Ellen Kelly
‡ I literally shudder at the image of the possible dehuman-izing repercussions that would occur if computers – machines that we as human beings have created -- become so complex that any hope or desire, whether a goal we could attain with enough determination or just a fantasy, becomes a reality just by pressing a button. The dialogue of a typical futuristic family might consist of something like this: “Honey, I will be back in a hour or so. I am going to Computer.Com Warehouse of Realties.” Mom responds, “Again Honey? but why?” “Well there is a great sale on half hour sex sessions with Cindy Crawford [or any futuristic model], and the kids, well, little Timmy wants to enter the ‘Coolest Kid at School Session’ and Sarah wants to go on a date with Ira Standlif, you know the extremely wealthy boy that lives on the other side of town.” Pat Coyne’s article (in R. P. Wolff, About Philosophy) makes humans wonder if they should even bother continuing to exist. It is just another example of how we as people deny the realities of life. We let technology take its place.
One may as well become a solipsist because eventually everything one wanted from life could be offered from computer technology, manifesting a belief that there are not any realities in life, only one’s mere existence, nothing else warranting solid beliefs. Diversity amongst personalities would become nonexistent. If everyone in their adolescent years could have had the opportunity to be the popular student, the mainstream student, most would have opted for that popularity. Essentially, what is desired by most is attention or recognition, a desire we as humans have in common, but a desire that thankfully is not fulfilled for every adolescent. Many that have attempted to be different, like the famous writers and artists of the past, would quite possibly have been satisfied in their own techno-world had that been an option for them. The need for human contact would become obsolete. Love, the most powerful need of all, would be replaced by an hour of sex with whomever one chooses. Safe sex essentially, but ultimately a poor substitute for real human interaction.
Coyne ends the article with the same question many would ask of this futuristic fantasy world becoming a reality, “After all it won’t be real, will it?” (Wolff, p. 348). I ask: what will be real? I am aware there are people like myself that would refuse to succumb to the situations a computer revolution could bring such as “safe sex” in all regards (no trust or involvement needed) or becoming a phenomenal athlete by simply investing a few moments and dollars into Computer.Com of Realities. But would there be enough us that actually dared to be different? If others are not striving to achieve something from this so called life, what is the future of humankind? If many forget the work it takes to be emotionally involved with someone, the dedication it takes to prevail at one particular thing, the realities of life, the tears we shed because we dared to love, the determination we derived from overcoming feats, and the smiles we share because, we as human beings are the creators of those smiles, will not procreation become nonexistent, just an image on the screen?
Ellen Kelly is a student at MCLA
~~~
Moderate Perfectionism Refined
A Reply to Taylor
Eric Moore
‡ Moderate Perfectionism can be very roughly expressed as the view that persons are superior to animals because of their ability to act morally. Thus, it seems to imply that if we are faced with the unfortunate choice of saving either a person or an animal (but not both), the theory directs us to save the person.
William Taylor objects to this theory ("An objection to Eric Moore's 'Moderate Perfectionism'," Thesis XII, 7.3) because, as he points out, while people can act morally, that doesn't guarantee that they do act morally. He asks us to compare two worlds. On world A there are animals but no people. On world B there are both animals and people, but all the people in that world kill and pollute for selfish gain. World B may contain many people, but is certainly far worse than World A because the people in B are so immoral. Thus, mere possession of the ability to act morally does not suffice when faced with the unfortunate choice between saving a person or an animal.
This is a good point. I should note that in my paper I did not say that any person, no matter what, should always be saved over any animal. Instead, I claimed that when faced with a choice between saving either an innocent person or an animal, that the theory directs us to save the innocent person (1). Thus, Moderate Perfectionism as originally proposed would not favor World B over World A.
However, in that paper I never explained why I favored only innocent, rather than all, moral agents over moral patients. Taylor's excellent thought experiment has pointed out the need for such an explanation. My new formulation of Moderate Perfectionism directs us to save a morally decent person over an animal, but to save an animal over a morally depraved person. In what follows I motivate and provide a brief sketch of this refined theory.
First, some background. Following Tom Regan, I make a distinction between subjects-of-a-life and others. Individuals that possess beliefs, desires, perceptions, memories, a sense of their own future, an emotional life, preference interests, sensations of pain and pleasure—these individuals are subjects-of-a-life (SOALS (2)).
SOALS can be divided into two main classes: those that are moral agents, and those that are moral patients. Moral agents are those SOALS who can reason morally and act on those reasons. Thus we hold them morally accountable for their unconstrained actions. Adult humans are paradigmatic moral agents. Moral patients, on the other hand, cannot reason morally or act from moral reasons. But since they are SOALS, they do have desires and beliefs, an emotional life, and a sense of the future. Normal adult mammals, as well as young human children and some mentally incapacitated adult humans, are moral patients (3).
I accept the Inherent Value Postulate: All SOALS possess inherent value, and each has equal inherent value to each other, whether moral agent or moral patient (4).
So far, all I have said is consistent with Tom Regan's equal rights theory. But at this point I diverge from him (5). For consider the distinction between moral agents and moral patients. The essential feature of a moral agent is her ability to engage in moral reflection that leads to moral action. But it seems inconsistent with the recognition of this ability to fail to recognize that when a moral agent acts from this ability, that this affects her moral status. After all, the point of recognizing moral agents as distinct from moral patients is to hold them morally responsible for their actions, and we do this because we think that they are better for acting morally, worse for acting immorally.
Thus, while it is appropriate to base the rights of moral patients on their inherent value, it is not appropriate to base the rights of moral agents on just their inherent value. Instead, we can think of the inherent value of all SOALS as equal, and that in the case of moral agents, this furnishes a base line for their moral status. But the moral status of moral agents can also be affected by their moral worth. Bad behavior and vicious dispositions lower moral worth, while good behavior and virtuous dispositions enhance moral worth.
So, the moral status of a person is equal to his/her inherent value plus his/her moral worth. When a person's moral worth is positive, then this will make that person's moral status greater than his/her inherent value. When a person's moral worth is negative, then this will make that person's moral status less than his/her inherent value.
Therefore, when deciding between a moral agent (a person) and a moral patient (such as an animal), we must compare the moral status of the person to the inherent value of the animal. If the moral status of the person is higher than the inherent value of the animal, then we save the person. If the moral status of the person is lower than the inherent value of the animal, then we save the animal. Finally, if the moral status of the person is equal to the inherent value of the animal, then we may flip the coin to decide which one to save.
Refined Moderate Perfectionism builds upon the insight that motivated Moderate Perfectionism in the first place—that there is a significant moral distinction between moral agents and moral patients. Obviously much remains to be worked out, especially about what makes for moral worth. Nevertheless, I have now provided enough theory to show that Moderate Perfectionism does not have the defect that Taylor claimed.
Notes
(1) Moore, Eric, "The Case for Unequal Rights for Animals, Draft 6," page 9.
(2) Regan, Tom, The Case for Animal Rights, (Berkeley: The University of California Press, 1983), page 243.
(3) Regan, pages 151-152.
(4) Regan, page 240.
(5) See my "Equal Rights for Animals: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing," (Thesis XII, 6.3) for the reason.
Eric Moore teaches philosophy at Longwood College in Farmville, VA
~~~
Second Chance
Theresa Doherty
‡ Every person has one event, decision, or choice in his or her life that he or she regrets; something we would change if only we could go back in time, an event that at the time seemed minuscule, maybe even easy, but now haunts us. But the question remains: how many are willing to pay the price for the chance to go back and change it?
My job is to offer people that second chance to go back in time to that one event and change it. It was also my job to tell them the high price they have to pay for doing this. Most people are eager at the chance to go back with the wisdom and knowledge they now have and change the past; few were willing to pay the price. One of the very few who were willing to pay the price was Matthias, a 42 year old stockbroker in New York. I approached Matthias to offer him his chance to alter one event that had happened when he was just a child. Matthias had made one decision that would cost him years of guilt and pain and another her life.
His mother had told him to watch his little sister for a few minutes while she went to say goodbye to his grandmother. Matthias was sitting in the front seat of the car while his little sister was strapped in the back in her car seat. Curiosity got the better of Matthias and he started to fiddle with the steering wheel and gadgets in the car. The next he knew, the car was backing towards the cliff at the top of the driveway that dropped about twenty feet into a little stream. Without thinking, he jumped out of the car, leaving his sister inside. Before his mom could get to the car, it went over the cliff killing his little sister. For years Matthias lived with the guilt of this accident: although his mother and father had long since forgiven him. He was after all only five years old and he had not intended for the accident, but Matthias had scourged himself with the memory.
When I first approached Matthias with my offer he was at home, spending one of his nightmare infested, wakeful evenings restlessly turning objects over in his hands. I presented him with my usual offer the chance to stop the sequence before it started, but I also told him the price he would have to pay. I explained that going back to the past was not the hard part; that was actually quite simple. The problem was coming back to the present. Changing one event in the past changes the whole present into something that is unknowable to anyone. I could not guarantee that by altering Matthias’ past his present would be anything that he would want to return to. I could not promise that he would return to his wife and four children, to his six figure annual salary, or even if he would still be alive in the present. I could only guarantee his sister’ life on that fateful day.
The problem for Matthias was the same for everyone. He was more than eager for the opportunity to go back and save his sister, but he did not know if he could give himself completely to a memory. He wanted time to think, but time was not something I had in abundance. The best I could do was give him an hour to arrive at his decision. I left Matthias feeling quite the way that I do after each offer I make, very sympathetic to the decision that he had to come to. That was the one confusing part of the job. I did not, as some may think, feel envious of the people who were allowed this opportunity, I myself had refused it on numerous occasions. Sure, there were events in my past I would like to change, but not knowing the repercussions of these changes always bothered me. I agonized over the question of “why did these events happen.” I spent most of that hour walking in the rain, contemplating these questions wondering what decision Matthias would make.
Matthias passed back and forth across his living room, holding a picture of his little sister.
“What am I suppose to do, Sis? I love you and miss you so much, but I love the family I have now. If I go back I can save you, but at the same time I could be killing all of them. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was an accident, doing this to them would be intentional.”
Matthias stopped pacing and sat down, beginning to sob, as his wife entered the room.
“Why are you crying? Are you having the nightmares again?”
“There is something I have to tell you”
Matthias said, launching into a narrative of the situation
“What do you think I should do?”
“I think you already know what you have to do.”
Matthias’ wife rose, walking across the room, where she picked up a book, laying it in front of Matthias. Quietly, the woman left her husband, an air of understanding clinging to her proud shoulders. He lowered his tortured gaze to the page. Fresh tears coursed down his already dampened cheeks. Matthias nodded.
When I returned to Matthias’s house he was ready to go. He had made his decision; he was willing to give himself to the past, regardless of the new future. I was just about to ask him how he had made this decision when I looked down and saw a Bible opened to John, sitting on his desk. It was turned to the passage, which says, “man knows no greater love than this to lay down his life for his friends”. I looked up at Matthias, but did not say a word. I had discovered the one thing I may have been missing all along. For that one brief moment when he was back in that car and did not touch that shift, he knew his sister was alive, and for the first time since the accident he, too, would be truly alive. He knew he would not cause the pain of his sister’s death for his parents. For that one brief moment, he would be truly happy and, no matter what the present had waiting for him, it would no longer have guilt. The nightmares would finally stop.
Theresa Doherty is a student at MCLA
~~~
On the Universality of Syllogistic Logic
Todd Falkowski
‡ The idea of a syllogism is universal and will be found in any intellectual tradition presenting itself as logical. Buddhism is such a tradition.
The idea of an inference is universal. Since the syllogism is merely a tool used to explain and communicate inferences, it too is universal. A simple inference is a cognitive process where the mind indirectly connects two particular ideas through a similar middle one. An inference is part of nature and occurs only in the mind. Simply described, the syllogism is an explanatory device (outside of the mind) that contains three terms. These three terms are the ones that occur in the respective inference. The syllogism came into existence, because it was unavoidably the best form to simplify and explain inferences.
The Aristotelian syllogism contains (at least) three propositions. One of the propositions must be a conclusion while the others are premises. The syllogism contains three terms; major, minor and middle. “The major term, by definition, is the predicate of the conclusion, and the minor term is the subject of the conclusion. The middle term, which provides middle ground between the two premises, is the one that occurs in each premise and does not occur in the conclusion” (Hurley, A Concise Introduction to Logic, p. 253). The syllogism deduces particular ideas from general ones.
All humans (major term) have thumbs (middle term).
No dogs (minor term) have thumbs (middle term).
Therefore, no dogs (minor term) are humans (major term).
The Buddhist syllogism, likewise, contains three interdependent terms in a series of two propositions. One proposition expresses a general rule and the other applies that rule to a particular instance. The conclusion of a Buddhist syllogism is not explicitly stated since the minor premise (the proposition that applies the general rule) assumes it.
Stcherbatsky writes: “Whatsoever is produced at will is impermanent, as, e.g., a jar etc. And such are the sounds of speech.”
The preceding Buddhist syllogism first states a general rule (major premise) and then applies that rule to a particular idea (minor premise). The minor premise presupposes the conclusion, that sounds of speech are impermanent. The syllogism contained three terms: impermanence (major term), sounds of speech (minor term) and things produced at will (middle term). As a result the Buddhist syllogism can be reformed to fit the Aristotelian (categorical) syllogism.
All impermanent things are produced at will.
All sounds of speech are produced at will.
All sounds of speech are impermanent things.
Although the Buddhist and Aristotelian syllogisms differ in form, they both accomplish the same goal. Both syllogisms explain inferences to other humans. Both times three terms were involved; two particulars being connected by a middle one. At root, syllogisms are universal; they are the simplest means to communicate an inference.
Some logicians feel that only the inference is universal and existing syllogistic forms are not. If inferences are universal then the structures used to communicate them also must be universal. The two syllogisms discussed in this essay are similar at base and only contain superficial differences. Both syllogisms accomplish the exact same task; they communicate the process whereby the mind indirectly connects two particular ideas through a similar middle one. The reason syllogisms outwardly appear different can be attributed to cultural and linguistic differences.
Todd Falkowski is a student at MCLA
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