This entry looks at Stephen Maitzen’s essay ‘The Problem of Magic’, which is available from his website here. Said essay is interesting not for the actual arguments it contains but for the implied metaphysical cost of its background. For the sake of charity I will say now that I am only aware of Maitzen’s work through a number of his essays in philosophy of religion and that these may not be an adequate representation of his ability as a philosopher.
In the course of the essay Maitzen sets out to argue several claims, most prominently that that the intelligibility of the universe does not require God and that theism or other forms of supernaturalism in fact threaten its intelligibility. I will focus my attention on his later thesis and only make a few observations on the first part of the discussion.
Ontological Investigations
Tuesday 19 March 2019
Tuesday 5 March 2019
What Is Going On With Ontological Investigations?
All our writers are currently in the process of moving to other continents or finishing the last two months of philosophy degrees.
We have several articles in various states of doneness languishing in suitcases or on our desks, and a regular podcast coming. Stay tuned.
We have several articles in various states of doneness languishing in suitcases or on our desks, and a regular podcast coming. Stay tuned.
Tuesday 29 January 2019
When Are Universals?
Aficionados of Armstrong's work will appreciate Ernâni Magalhães's PhD thesis, When are universals? The relationship between universals and time. Others, too.
Tuesday 25 December 2018
Merry Christmas
Things have gotten slow around here over the holidays, but we haven't forgotten about you. Regular posting will resume in January.
Tuesday 4 December 2018
The Principle of Disagreement
Now the question raised by the mode of disagreement is this: Is the Principle of Disagreement true? And the answer is surely: Yes, the Principle is true. For suppose that it were not true. Then the following could be the case. I recognize that there is a dispute about the authenticity of the Magna Moralia, some holding that the work was written by Aristotle himself and others holding that it is a later counterfeit. I believe, further, that the dispute is still undecided: the parties have not come to any agreement, and no decisive argument or consideration for or against authenticity has yet been advanced. Nevertheless (if the Principle is false) it is rational for me to hold that the work is not authentic. Now it seems clear to me that this is incoherent; for how could it possibly be rational for me to plump for authenticity, thus opting for one side of the dispute, and yet still maintain that the dispute is undecided? If it is rational or warranted for me to decide against authenticity, then I must suppose that whatever warrants my decision also and thereby decides the dispute, which I can therefore no longer hold to be undecided. If, on the contrary, I insist that the disagreement remains undecided, then I cannot consistently suppose that my inclination to reject authenticity, whatever it may be founded upon, has any satisfactory justification; and hence it is not rational for me to reject authenticity.
Of course, I may adopt it as a 'working hypothesis' that the Magna Moralia is a counterfeit. I may act as if the work is spurious – say, by excluding it from my translation of the collected works of Aristotle. But in so acting I am not manifesting any belief that the work is spurious. I am not putting money on the horse. (Moreover, I may perhaps also hold that it is likely or probable that the work will turn out to be spurious. Then I shall indeed hold a belief on the matter – but not a belief which is, in any straightforward way, a party to the disagreement. For the disagreement is not over probabilities but over authenticity.) Thus while recognizing the existence of an unresolved dispute over authenticity, I may yet act as if the work is spurious (and perhaps even take it to be probably spurious); but I cannot rationally believe that it is spurious.
If the putative counter-example to the Principle of Disagreement is incoherent, then any putative counter-example is incoherent. And thus the Principle is true. Then since the Principle on which the mode of disagreement rests is true, the mode does indeed induce suspension of judgment. If I recognize undecided dispute over ?Q, then I must – I rationally must – suspend judgment over the matter.
Jonathan Barnes, The Toils of Scepticism.
I've discussed the principle of disagreement in a previous post here (the first premise), and thought some of you might be interested in Barnes's full argument for it.
Of course, I may adopt it as a 'working hypothesis' that the Magna Moralia is a counterfeit. I may act as if the work is spurious – say, by excluding it from my translation of the collected works of Aristotle. But in so acting I am not manifesting any belief that the work is spurious. I am not putting money on the horse. (Moreover, I may perhaps also hold that it is likely or probable that the work will turn out to be spurious. Then I shall indeed hold a belief on the matter – but not a belief which is, in any straightforward way, a party to the disagreement. For the disagreement is not over probabilities but over authenticity.) Thus while recognizing the existence of an unresolved dispute over authenticity, I may yet act as if the work is spurious (and perhaps even take it to be probably spurious); but I cannot rationally believe that it is spurious.
If the putative counter-example to the Principle of Disagreement is incoherent, then any putative counter-example is incoherent. And thus the Principle is true. Then since the Principle on which the mode of disagreement rests is true, the mode does indeed induce suspension of judgment. If I recognize undecided dispute over ?Q, then I must – I rationally must – suspend judgment over the matter.
Jonathan Barnes, The Toils of Scepticism.
I've discussed the principle of disagreement in a previous post here (the first premise), and thought some of you might be interested in Barnes's full argument for it.
Saturday 17 November 2018
Stoicism and the Four Noble Truths
Over the last decade or so an alliance
of sorts has formed between the modern Stoic movement and a variety
of Buddhist popularizers, especially those influenced by the secular
Buddhist movement. It has been noted that both Buddhists and Stoics
sought 1) to quiet their desires and minds through various
techniques, 2) to impose on themselves a strict simplicity in
thought, word, and deed, and 3) to take hold of a super-ordinary
freedom. This point of view has been put forth in articles, books,
and videoes. While no one reasonable claims that the two are
identical (that Zeno would have become Bikkhu Zeno upon hearing a
sermon, or that the the Buddha, had he traveled to Greece, would have
set up shop under the Stoa) it often seems to me that the similarity
is overstated between these two venerable traditions. As an
experiment of sorts, I decided to imagine what a Stoic would think of
the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism—how we would react and respond to
the essential tenets of Buddhism, that were supposedly the core
message of the very first sermon the Buddha taught after his
Awakening.
Thursday 8 November 2018
The Franciscan Master
Today is the Feast of John Duns Scotus. I'm not Christian, but I have great respect for Scotus's work. Here is a quote from Efrem Bettoni's Duns Scotus: The Principles of his Philosophy depicting the great man in an act of intellectual heroism:
In 1304 Duns Scotus was already known both within and outside the Order as a religious of deep spirituality and as a man of wide culture and powerful mind. When Father Gonsalvus of Spain, Minister General of the Franciscan Order, proposed him to the Provincial of Paris as a candidate for a master's chair at the University of that city, he expressed himself in the following terms: "I recommend to your charity our beloved brother in Christ, Father John Scotus, whose laudable life, excellent knowledge, most subtle genius, and other remarkable qualities are fully known to me, partly because of my long association with him, and partly because of his widespread reputation.”
However, in 1304 Duns Scotus was no longer in Paris, as he had to leave the city suddenly in 1303, in the middle of the academic year. What was the reason for this sudden departure? In the first months of 1303 the struggle between Pope Boniface VIII and the King of France, Philip the Fair, which is better known from Dante's poem (cf. Purgatorio, XX, 85-93) than from the reports of historians, had become greatly intensified. Philip the Fair looked for adherents to his antipapal policies among the clergy. This led to a split even among the members of the religious orders. Duns Scotus, as is well documented by the list of the Friars Minor that took side with the Pope against the King—a list discovered and published by Father Ephrem Longpré in 1928—did not hesitate to follow the dictates of conscience and truth. Royal reprisal forced him to interrupt his teaching and return to Oxford in England, where he lectured during the scholastic year 1303-1304.
When in 1304, following the death of Boniface VIII, the storm subsided and all political difficulties were removed, John Duns Scotus was sent back to Paris by the Minister General in order to obtain the title of master. About Easter in 1305, when Simon of Guiberville was chancellor of the University, the official proclamation took place.
This second period of teaching at the University of Paris became famous in scholastic tradition because of the theological dispute of the Subtle Doctor in favor of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Mother. Later traditions have invested this famous battle with legendary elements. Allegedly it ended in a grand finale, in which the Franciscan master, emulating in the field of culture the deeds of the bravest knights, victoriously withstood all the masters of the University of Paris, who were fierce opponents of his Mariology. However, the substantial historicity of this famous dispute has been proved in recent years by Father Charles Balic with an abundance of arguments which show how well Duns Scotus deserves the title of knight as well as of doctor of the Immaculate Conception.
In 1304 Duns Scotus was already known both within and outside the Order as a religious of deep spirituality and as a man of wide culture and powerful mind. When Father Gonsalvus of Spain, Minister General of the Franciscan Order, proposed him to the Provincial of Paris as a candidate for a master's chair at the University of that city, he expressed himself in the following terms: "I recommend to your charity our beloved brother in Christ, Father John Scotus, whose laudable life, excellent knowledge, most subtle genius, and other remarkable qualities are fully known to me, partly because of my long association with him, and partly because of his widespread reputation.”
However, in 1304 Duns Scotus was no longer in Paris, as he had to leave the city suddenly in 1303, in the middle of the academic year. What was the reason for this sudden departure? In the first months of 1303 the struggle between Pope Boniface VIII and the King of France, Philip the Fair, which is better known from Dante's poem (cf. Purgatorio, XX, 85-93) than from the reports of historians, had become greatly intensified. Philip the Fair looked for adherents to his antipapal policies among the clergy. This led to a split even among the members of the religious orders. Duns Scotus, as is well documented by the list of the Friars Minor that took side with the Pope against the King—a list discovered and published by Father Ephrem Longpré in 1928—did not hesitate to follow the dictates of conscience and truth. Royal reprisal forced him to interrupt his teaching and return to Oxford in England, where he lectured during the scholastic year 1303-1304.
When in 1304, following the death of Boniface VIII, the storm subsided and all political difficulties were removed, John Duns Scotus was sent back to Paris by the Minister General in order to obtain the title of master. About Easter in 1305, when Simon of Guiberville was chancellor of the University, the official proclamation took place.
This second period of teaching at the University of Paris became famous in scholastic tradition because of the theological dispute of the Subtle Doctor in favor of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Mother. Later traditions have invested this famous battle with legendary elements. Allegedly it ended in a grand finale, in which the Franciscan master, emulating in the field of culture the deeds of the bravest knights, victoriously withstood all the masters of the University of Paris, who were fierce opponents of his Mariology. However, the substantial historicity of this famous dispute has been proved in recent years by Father Charles Balic with an abundance of arguments which show how well Duns Scotus deserves the title of knight as well as of doctor of the Immaculate Conception.
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