Despite the common intuition that something is very wrong with the Gettier problems, after forty years they still seem to be intractable. The responses to these paradoxes of knowledge range from complaints against their logical structure to conclusions that knowledge simply cannot be analyzed. Most philosophers, however, take a position somewhere in between these two extremes; their responses advocate changing the traditional Justified True Belief model of knowledge to something that “de-Gettierizes” knowledge. This almost always means either adding some fourth condition or clarifying or changing the definition of justification. In this essay I will consider different possible solutions to the Gettier problems. After establishing the validity of these problems by defending Gettier against an objection to the logical structure of his counterexamples, I will then look at several attempts to change the justified true belief model to avoid the Gettier problems. I will then show that when these proposed solutions fail, as many of them do, it is because of a common defect. Finally, I will suggest that Nozick’s proposition analysis of knowledge is an elegant and insightful solution to this basic problem, and defend it against an objection from Kripke.

There are really only a few general strategies that can be used to resolve the Gettier problems. First, one could concede the point and claim that Gettier beliefs are knowledge; Smith does indeed know that the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket, and Smith does know that either Jones owns a Ford or Brown is in Brest-Litovsk. Second, one could argue that knowledge is a basic concept that cannot be analyzed. Third, one could argue against Gettier’s principle that “for any proposition P, if S is justified in believing P, and P entails Q, and S deduces Q from P and accepts Q as a result of this deduction, then S is justified in believing Q” (Gettier 121). Fourth, one could argue that justification has some necessary conditions that preclude these types of beliefs. Fifth and finally, one could argue that there is some necessary condition for knowledge in addition to justified true belief that precludes these types of beliefs.

I. Arguments against the Validity of the Counterexamples

The first strategy, arguing that Gettier beliefs are knowledge, is a cure clearly worse than the disease. A concept of knowledge that allowed such cases would be strongly counterintuitive. The second strategy, arguing that knowledge is a basic concept that cannot be analyzed, certainly has its merits, but it is mostly beyond the scope of this paper and I can do little more than give a broad objection it: it simply feels wrong. There are many basic concepts, but for the most part they are self-evidently basic; we feel no compulsion to try to analyze them. Knowledge intuitively seems like something for which there are fairly strict, logical conditions, and if it were a basic concept it would be unique in not being obviously so.

The third strategy, arguing that being justified in believing a proposition does not necessarily make one justified in believing all propositions entailed by that proposition, shows more promise. In “In Defense of Justified True Belief,” Irving Thalberg argues against the transitivity of justification using the analogy of betting. For instance, in the case in which Smith believes the proposition “the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket,” Thalberg argues that though Smith may be justified in believing the propositions “Jones has ten coins in his pocket” and “Jones will get the job,” he nevertheless may not be justified in believing even the conjunction of these two propositions, let alone the general proposition containing the denoting phrase “the man.” To explain why this is so, Thalberg considers the conditions for betting on each proposition. Even if Smith were willing to vote independently on the proposition “Jones will get the job” and the proposition “Jones has ten coins in his pocket,” he may still be unwilling to bet on the conjunction of these two (Thalberg 798). Conjoining propositions increases one’s possibilities for error, as a falsehood in any one of the conjuncts renders the entire conjunction false. This reasoning presupposes that the justification of a proposition is simply one’s reliable judgment of the probability that the proposition is true. If this is the case, then the justification of a conjunction will only be as strong as the probability that the entire conjunction is true, which is obtained by multiplying together the probabilities of all of the conjuncts. A belief is justified if the probability that it is true is above a certain cutoff, which may vary according to circumstance. Therefore, while two propositions composing a conjunction may be justified, the conjunction itself may not be.

Of course, this argument relies on the assumption that justification is a matter of probability and that it admits of degrees in the way that Thalberg believes it does. But even if this assumption is granted, the argument still has problems; Thalberg’s point about the intransitivity of justification in conjunctions may be valid, but his argument against the Gettier problem arising from disjunction is seriously flawed. Thalberg believes that Smith’s compound belief that either Jones owns a Ford or Brown is in Brest-Litovsk is invalid for basically the same reasons that the compound statement is invalid: since justification is based on probability, a proposition may be less justified than its premises. In this case again, Thalberg states that adding a disjunct to the proposition “Jones owns a Ford” alters the odds that it is true. However, Thalberg does not seem to appreciate how different this case is: here, rather than making the compound proposition less probable, it makes it more probable. If justification is indeed a matter of degree and is based on accurately judged probability, then the proposition “either Jones owns a Ford or Brown is in Brest-Litovsk” is more justified than the proposition that entails it. Extending the betting analogy, Thalberg states “no bookmaker would permit Smith to gamble on (the disjunction) under the same conditions as he bets on (the original proposition). . . Smith might be justified in accepting (the disjunction) whenever he is justified in accepting (the original proposition), but we might not be justified in allowing him to shift from (the original proposition to the disjunction)” (Thalberg 798). But why should Smith care about what we are justified in allowing him to do? This must be an entirely different kind of justification that Thalberg is talking about; whatever this justification is, it shares no connection with the kind of justification we are concerned other than name. The kind of justification that matters here is Smith’s justification in believing this series of propositions. In fact, the reason that we are not “justified in allowing him to shift” is that it is more probable that it is true; far from making Smith less justified in believing the proposition, this is rather precisely what makes him more justified. Therefore, the Gettier paradox is still present; by Thalberg’s admission, Smith is justified in believing a proposition which is true, but in circumstances that do not intuitively seem to constitute knowledge.

II. Truth as a Redundant Condition

As Gettier points out, his counterexamples rely on two principles: first, it is possible to have justified false beliefs; and second (as discussed above), justification is transitive from a proposition to any propositions entailed by that proposition. We have just seen the failure of an argument against the second of these principles. However, this strategy of challenging whether Smith’s beliefs are justified is certainly the minority. Most philosophers concede Gettier’s point and attempt to either strengthen justification or add some other condition that avoids such problems. But unless justification is strengthened to the point that justified false belief is impossible, Gettier problems will always arise. If both justified false belief and unjustified true belief are possible, one can always make a Gettier problem from them by putting one of each together in a disjunction.

This same general principle applies to models adding some other condition to justified true belief. However many conditions are added, if it is possible that all of these conditions (except truth) can be fulfilled and the belief still be false, then a Gettier problem can always be made by forming a disjunction by adding a belief that fulfills the truth condition but not some other condition or conditions. In any analysis of knowledge, truth must be a redundant condition. If the other conditions do not already guarantee truth, a disjunctive Gettier problem can always be made. This means that, despite what many philosophers have assumed, the analysis of knowledge is not a matter of what conditions to attach to truth and belief to get knowledge; truth must be a necessary consequence of the other conditions. Therefore, there is no such thing as “knowledge minus truth”, or beliefs that qualify as knowledge in every condition except that their propositional content is not true (I will henceforth refer to these beliefs as “condition-fulfilling false beliefs”).

Based on this criterion that truth must be a redundant condition, it seems that any analysis that merely strengthens the justification condition will end up being very counterintuitive. Justification that entails truth seems too strong, but if it does not entail truth, an analysis that only contains the conditions of justified true belief will always be subject to Gettier problems. If justification is taken to be normative; that is, if an unjustified proposition is one that we ought not to believe and a justified proposition is one that we may or should believe, then clearly truth cannot be a necessary condition for it. Certainly there are sometimes propositions which we have every reason to believe, which we do not violate any epistemic duty by believing, and even which we would be violating some duty by not believing, but which are nevertheless false.

III. The Basic Fourth Condition and Defense of Nozick

It seems then that if we hope to analyze knowledge in a way that conforms to our intuitions, we must add some fourth condition to justification, belief, and truth; or more precisely, we must add some condition to justification and belief that necessarily entails truth. Many further conditions have been suggested. Some of these allow for condition-fulfilling false beliefs and therefore fail. Others explicitly forbid justified false beliefs, and still others do not commit themselves either way, but can be interpreted as forbidding such beliefs. For example, consider Lehrer and Paxson’s theory of knowledge as undefeated justified true belief. According to this theory, a belief is knowledge if it is justified and true and if there is no other true proposition that the subject justifiably believes to be false and which, if known, would render belief in the original proposition unjustified (Lehrer and Paxson 227). Though Lehrer and Paxson do not say so explicitly, this clearly disallows any condition-fulfilling false beliefs, because in such cases there will always be a defeater: namely, the true proposition “this belief is false.”

There are several other possibilities given for conditions added to justified true belief that will avoid Gettier problems. Goldman’s causal theory, Plantinga’s theory of proper function, the many variations on the theory of “no false lemmas,” and all other theories proposing adding conditions to justified true belief all avoid the Gettier problems to the extent that they succeed in connecting the subject’s belief necessarily to the truth of the proposition. The condition must be such that condition-fulfilling false beliefs are impossible, and therefore such that the proposition’s being false is sufficient to preclude belief in it. Robert Nozick recognized this most basic element of any condition added to knowledge and formalized it as “if p weren’t true S wouldn’t believe that p” (Nozick 211).

This condition, I believe, captures the essence of the Gettier problems and provides an elegant way to avoid them. However, it is not without its critics. Kripke proposes as a counterexample a variation on the traditional “Barn County” thought experiment. In the original thought experiment, Matthew is traveling through Barn County, in which, unbeknownst to Matthew, there is only one barn but thousands of barn façades. Matthew sees the one real barn and forms the belief “I see a barn,” though it is by sheer luck that Matthew happened to see the one real barn instead of one of the thousands of facades. The justified true belief account would consider this knowledge. Nozick’s account deals with this easily. Even if Matthew had seen a façade, rendering the belief “I see a barn” false, Matthew would still have believed it. Therefore, Nozick’s added condition is not fulfilled, and Matthew’s belief is not knowledge.

Kripke’s counterexample adjusts Barn County so that only the one real barn is painted red, and all others are left unpainted by law. Matthew sees this barn and forms the belief “I see a red barn.” This, Kripke claims, counts as knowledge under Nozick’s definition, because if this were false and Matthew did not see a red barn, but rather saw an unpainted façade, he would not have believed the proposition. But if this is knowledge, then Matthew knows that he sees a red barn, and from that can deduce that he sees a barn, which is what we rejected in the first place (Luper-Foy 265).

This objection, however, is flawed. Kripke states that when Matthew believes the proposition “I see a red barn,” this qualifies as knowledge under Nozick’s definition because if Matthew hadn’t seen a red barn, he would not have believed that he saw a red barn. But Kripke seems to have formalized this sentence incorrectly. He is treating Nozick’s condition as though it were “there is some state of affairs such that p is not true and Matthew does not believe p.” One might as well say that Matthew’s original assertion, “I see a barn,” qualifies as knowledge because there exists some possible state of affairs, say, if Matthew had been blind, such that if this state obtained, Matthew’s proposition “I see a barn” would have false and he would not have not believed it. But Nozick’s condition is more stringent; it is that every time and under whatever circumstances p is false, S will not believe p. And in Kripke’s counterexample there are clearly cases in which it is false that Matthew does not see a red barn and yet believes that he does; for example, in the next county over where all façades are red and all real barns are unpainted.

IV. Conclusion

In this essay, I have defended both of Gettier’s foundational principles: the transitivity of justification and the existence of justified false beliefs. By delving further into the reasons why objections to the second principle fail, and concluded that the central issue was that in any analysis of knowledge, truth must be a redundant condition. With this core insight in mind, Nozick’s theory of knowledge, which does not have truth as an explicit condition, seems to be the simplest and best solution to the Gettier problems. The implications of Nozick’s theory are yet to be fully developed, but I believe they have the potential to both challenge and hone many of our intuitions about what knowledge is, and particularly to give us greater understanding of the role of truth.

Works Cited

Gettier, Edmund. “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” Analysis 23.6 (1963): 121-23. Print.

Lehrer, Keith, and Thomas Paxson. “Knowledge: Undefeated Justified True Belief.” The Journal of Philosophy 66.8 (1969): 225-37. Print.

Luper-Foy, Steven. The Possibility of Knowledge: Nozick and his Critics. Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield, 1987. Print.

Nozick, Robert. Philosophical Explanations. Cambridge, MA: Robert Nozick, 1981. Print.

Thalberg, Irving. “In Defense of Justified True Belief.” The Journal of Philosophy 66.2 (1969): 794-803. Print.

Steve Tensmeyer (’11) is a Philosophy and International Relations Major at Bringham Young University

Abstract: Ever since Plato described knowledge in the Theaetetus and the Meno, three criteria, namely justification, truth, and belief (JTB), have composed the traditional philosophical definition of knowledge. In his 1963 paper “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” Edmund Gettier attempts to disestablish the traditional definition of knowledge. He utilizes a thought experiment in which a person appears to meet the knowledge criteria yet still does not seem to have knowledge. In this paper we clarify and specify the definition of knowledge, breaking the justification criterion down into three separate criteria, saving the common sense intuition and the traditional definition of knowledge from The Gettier Problem. All the while this new understanding of knowledge and justification still allows us to consider many everyday knowledge claims to be knowledge (i.e., it is parsimonious but not too restrictive).

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In his 1963 paper “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” Edmund Gettier claims justified true belief is not sufficient for knowledge because “it is possible for a person to be justified in believing a proposition that is in fact false” 1. Gettier demonstrates how chance events can turn a seemingly justified false belief into a seemingly justified true belief using a thought experiment about Smith, a man applying for a job. Smith has “strong evidence”2 that the other applicant, Jones, will get the job (maybe the boss told Smith) and that Jones has ten coins in his pocket (maybe Smith saw Jones counting them). Accordingly, Smith believes that “(e) the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket”3. Yet, Smith gets the job, not Jones, and unbeknownst to Smith, he, too, has ten coins in his pocket. According to Gettier, although Smith thought Jones would get the job, events just so happened to make his belief (e) true and justified. Therefore, Gettier claims one can have justified true belief while “it is equally clear”4 that the belief is not sufficient for knowledge. It is unclear what Gettier meant by “clear”; he seems to be referring tosome kind of intuitive notion of knowledge or the practical everyday layman’s conception. The intuitive or practical notions, while rough, appear to be a useful guide toward a more complete understanding of knowledge.

In order to make sense of the intuitive notion of knowledge Gettier refers to, one needs a new conception of justification. Gettier’s description of justification unintentionally and merely illustrates apparent justification. Only apparent justifications can lead to belief in “a proposition that is in fact false”5. If one has enough information and uses it correctly, one no longer treats apparent justification, which can lead to falsity, as actual justification. For example, if Smith only allowed reliable evidence to justify his beliefs and Smith knew that the boss’ statement about hiring Jones was unreliable, then it would no longer appear to justify Smith’s belief. In Gettier’s conception of the traditional knowledge criteria he does not distinguish between apparent and actual justification.

The traditional requirements for knowledge, according to Gettier, are as follows:

S knows that P IFF

(i) P is true,
(ii) S believes that P, and
(iii) S is justified in believing that P.6

To prevent a misinterpretation, like Gettier’s assumption that justification can lead to false belief, it is beneficial to understand the traditional justification requirement, (iii), as a shortened version of the following:

(iii)   S’s believing that Q makes S believe that P,
(iv)    If Q is false or if Q has no impact on the truth of P then Q will not make S believe that P and
(v)     Were S to have perfect information about everything, (iii) would still be true.

Such an understanding eliminates S’s ability to confuse apparent justification with actual justification. Smith’s knowledge claim in Gettier’s thought experiment violates (v) when P is “the man who will get the job has ten coins in his pocket,” and Q is “the boss said that Jones will get the job and Smith saw Jones count ten coins in his pocket.”7 Smith’s claim violates (v) because if Smith had the whole story the boss’ statement would no longer make him believe P so long as (iv) is true. Smith would realize that it is possible that despite Q, P could be false because the boss’ statement is unreliable. The statement merely appears to be justification if S does not have access to the information that the boss is unreliable. In other words, (v) guarantees that there is no further information that S could attain that would render Q false or show it not to have an impact on the truth of P.

A consequence of (v) is that S would probably have many reasons to believe P. Generally, not all reasons are created equal (i.e., some reasons are better than others). For example, in the court of law, DNA evidence linking someone to a crime is better than eyewitness testimony because DNA evidence is more reliable. However, with perfect information all reasons become equally good. For example, eyewitness testimony is just as reliable as DNA evidence if one can be certain of what the witness observed and that he or she is telling the truth. Criterion (iii) will still be upheld even if, given perfect information, one has what is generally considered to be reasons better than Q. If one has perfect information then reliability issues vanish, making all true and relevant reasons equally trustworthy.

Meeting the five criteria prevent a knowledge claim from falling victim to Gettier-style chance. The criteria distinguish between apparent and actual justification. Skeptical arguments can arise when attempting to ascertain whether a claim meets criteria (i), (iv), and (v). Like in Gettier’s “Is Justified True Belief Knowledge?” the difficulty will remain unaddressed here. This new conception of knowledge and justification is a good first step in figuring out when someone has knowledge. They allow for a continuum of confidence about whether a particular claim is knowledge. The more one learns about the world, the more confident one can be that a particular claim is knowledge. So, as long as one has the correct understanding of justification, yes Gettier, justified true belief is knowledge.

Endnotes

1 qtd. in Huemer 444

2 qtd. in Huemer 445

3 qtd. in Huemer 445

4 qtd. in Huemer 445

5 qtd. in Huemer 444

6 qtd. in Huemer 444

7 qtd. in Huemer 445

Works Cited

Gettier, Edmund. Epistemology : Contemporary Readings. Ed. Michael Huemer. New York: Routledge, 2002.

Alex Ehrlich (’09) is a Accounting and Taxation major at Hofstra University.

AJ Durwin (’10) is a Philosophy major at Hofstra University.

Photo courtesy of jolian.

Abstract: This paper discusses the central argument of A World of States of Affairs by David Armstrong, which is intended to posit states of affairs as fundamental ontological entities. This ‘truth-maker’ argument is intended to conclude that states of affairs are what make propositions true; I explore this position and the response by David Lewis, which is a tentative rejection of Armstrong’s position in favour of a supremely permissive combinatorialism.

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The sentence “the sun is bright” expresses a true proposition. What, if anything, makes it true? The tentative answer by D.M. Armstrong, which may be found in his fine A World of States of Affairs is that some state of affairs (a technical term which will be defined), some constituent of a state of affairs, or some combination of these makes such propositions true (assuming that brightness is a property which does not depend on a relation between two or more things). This hypothesis and a response to it by David Lewis will be considered.

Armstrong considers those propositions which have been thought about or stated. Truth attaches to some of these propositions (he does not elaborate this attachment.) It is these truths which states of affairs and their constituents correspond to in the ‘truth-making’¹ process. For clarity, truth-makers will be spoken of as corresponding to propositions rather than truths.

Armstrong’s general hypothesis is that states of affairs and their constituents are ontologically exhaustive-there is nothing else. The constituents of states of affairs are particulars (individual things with their properties mentally abstracted from them, as far as this is possible), properties, external relations, and, in the case of higher-order states of affairs, lower-order states of affairs.

‘Constituent’ is used here rather abstractly. For example, properties and relations are types of states of affairs, or universals. The nature of universals will be discussed when we contrast them with particular properties, or tropes. External relations are distinguished from internal relations: those things which are externally related do not necessitate their relationship. ‘The Morning Star’ having the same referent as ‘the Evening Star’ is an external relation; the Morning Star’s identity to the Evening Star is an internal relation.

The necessary and sufficient condition for a state of affairs can now be given: either a particular has a property or, alternatively, there is an external relation between particulars. Every state of affairs and constituent thereof is an actual and contingent part of this world. This is to say that none are merely possible, yet the existence of any is not necessary.

Armstrong seems to assume that truths require something which makes them true. The proposition expressed by “the sun is bright” is not true simpliciter. It will be seen that a state of affairs-the sun’s being bright-is the most probable candidate for making it so. Why does Armstrong perceive this connection between the proposition and this state of affairs? It must be kept in mind that he is, in A World of States of Affairs, influenced by philosophers such as Wittgenstein (in his earlier philosophy) and John Anderson. They held that reality has a propositional structure.

Some propositions require truth-makers; some constituents of states of affairs require an ‘instantiation’:

We are making the venture that the world contains both particulars and universals. It would certainly seem that if this is so, then something is needed to weld them together (Armstrong 114-115)

In the present example, the particular is the sun and the universal which is ‘welded’ to it-which it instantiates-is the property of brightness. This state of affairs does not make the proposition expressed by “the sun is bright” true by a causal process; it is a process unlike making a light turn on by flipping a switch.

The truth-making relation is internal. The necessity of the relation is evident from the proposition “a truth-maker makes its corresponding proposition true.” This proposition is analytic: it cannot be false due to the meaning of its words. Armstrong makes the point in terms of possible worlds. If there is a particular truth-maker for a proposition, then there is no possible world in which the truth-maker exists but the proposition is false.

Armstrong arrives at his hypothesis of states of affairs as truth-makers by evaluating and rejecting less viable candidates. Corresponding to his scheme, we will consider the sun, the pair of the sun and brightness, and a version of trope theory as potential truth-makers of the proposition expressed by “the sun is bright.”

First of all, it is plainly absurd for the sun without any of its properties to be the ontological ground for the sun’s having a property. Secondly, the sun and the property of brightness are not necessarily tied together on Armstrong’s view. There is some possible world in which the pair exists but the sun does not instantiate brightness. Because of this world, it is not necessary-it is not the case in all possible worlds-that the proposition expressed by “the sun is bright” to be made true by the pair of the sun and brightness.

Armstrong is less dismissive of the trope view. Properties and relations have so far been treated as universals. Theories which hold that universals are real may acknowledge their abstract nature in some sense. The sun, a powered light bulb, and any other bright thing have brightness, so we can conceptually abstract this property from these things. But as a universal, brightness exists au)to_n e)n th~ au(tou~ xw&ra as a type of state of affairs. Universals-properties and relations-are entirely present in anything which instantiates them. Furthermore, the brightness of some particular thing is identical to the brightness of something else. The sense of identity which I use is no less strict than self-identity.

The reality of universals can reasonably be denied by a trope theorist. A trope is an instance of a property or relation-the particular brightness of a lamp or the distance between the sun and me at some instant.² The brightness of a lamp is not identical to the brightness of the sun; they are two different properties.

There are many variants of trope theory. If a pair consisting of a particular and a universal cannot be a truth-maker, can a pair consisting of a particular and an instance of a property? Armstrong immediately rejects those theories which hold that things have tropes contingently. If lamp L₁ has brightness B₁ contingently, there is a possible world in which they exist independently. The proposition expressed by “L₁ has B₁” cannot, then, hold an internal relation with the pair L₁ and B₁.

Trope theories which posit a necessary tie between particulars and their tropes are somewhat reluctantly rejected. Armstrong dislikes the amount of necessity in the world which follows from these theories. If every instance of a property (and, perhaps, every instance of a relation) exists necessarily where it does, we have a world view quite different from Armstrong’s thoroughly contingent-though tentative-ontology.

Armstrong also rejects those trope theories which deny the existence of particulars. Such theories are known as ‘bundle’ theories because particulars are postulated as mere bundles of tropes. The principal problem Armstrong has with such theories is that states of affairs are not purported to be any ontological addition to bundles of tropes. He even considers tropes to be constituents of states of affairs in such circumstances.

States of affairs and their constituents are thus the most likely truth-makers for contingently true propositions. Furthermore, necessarily true propositions-propositions of mathematics and logic, for example-have no truth-makers beyond these entities. A proposition may possess truth from many truth-makers. Consider the proposition expressed by “at least one person exists.” This proposition is made true by each state of affairs wherein a person has those properties which define her as a person. Somebody being rational and somebody being an animal are examples of such states of affairs. Since either of these states of affairs also makes the proposition expressed by “either at least one person exists or the moon is made of cheese” true, there may be many true propositions for a single truth-maker.

David Lewis is disconcerted by an element of necessity in this theory. Consider some particular star and the property of brightness. These constituents are distinct entities. The state of affairs wherein that star is bright is a third distinct entity. Yet if the particular star we have selected has the property of brightness, the state of affairs necessarily exists; if the sun lacks the property of brightness, the state of affairs necessarily does not exist.

Lewis considers these conditions strange for an independent entity. If the state of affairs is an independent entity, it should be able to exist or to not exist, regardless of the particular star, the property of brightness, or any other distinct entity.

This flows from the ontology which Lewis holds, wherein any combination of possibilia is permitted. Possibilia are “wholes and parts admitted by the most permissive sort of mereology” (Lewis, 2004, p. 250). They can actually exist or be merely possible; spatiotemporal regions, force fields, gods, and spooks are all included.

There is thus a tension between states of affairs and the extreme ‘combinatorialism’ which Lewis endorses. Lewis responds by cautioning against using terms of the form ‘the state of affairs wherein A has B’ interchangeably with ‘A has B’ without seriously considering whether the former is distinct from the latter. He never, however, explicitly states that the two have equivalent referents.

Armstrong’s argument for states of affairs is based on the requirement for a truth-maker; Lewis therefore considers this need. He agrees that some part of the world should, seemingly, be a truth-maker for every contingent truth. Whether or not one believes in the reality of universals-and Lewis does not-this intuition is, perhaps, common. It is certainly easy to agree with Lewis that Armstrong’s coherent metaphysic provides a simple and effective solution to a complex problem.

Works Cited

Armstrong, D. M. A World of States of Affairs. Cambridge, New York, and Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1997.

Lewis, David. “The Truthmakers.” Times Literary Supplement 13 Feb. 1998: 30.

Lewis, David. “New Work for a Theory of Universals.” Metaphysics: A Guide and Anthology. Ed. Tim Crane and Katalin Farkas. 2^nd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. 249-261.

Footnotes

By James Fox

Abstract

Since its publication Gettier’s Is Justified True Belief Knowledge? has become the seminal work in modern epistemology. This paper challenges the very assumptions of Gettier’s counterexamples and is therefore a radical alternative to both the proponents, and critics, of Gettier. By showing how knowledge is found, not in mere words or statements, but within the fundamental beliefs of the speaker, I expose the way in which ambiguity in language can mislead us into rejecting the traditional definition of knowledge as Justified True Belief.

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“What is truth? said jesting Pilate; and wouldn’t wait for an answer.”
– Francis Bacon

Pilate’s question has haunted humanity, and its answer I shall not presume to give; suffice to say that it will be an answer both beautifully simple and excruciatingly complex. However, as a preface to any study of Truth and knowledge, this question, simpler and less frequently asked, must be considered: Where is Truth? If we are to discover Truth, where should we look? There are many sources that purport to be true – spoken words, manuscripts and books, scientific theorems and even the deepest feelings of men’s hearts. In this essay I intend to address two main questions. The first is the relationship between a true statement or belief and Truth Itself. Is a statement True by its own virtue, or by what it causes or by what it reveals, for instance. Secondly, I intend to defend the view that Knowledge is Justified, True Belief, one which has only recently been challenged and yet is now almost entirely rejected. I shall not attempt to define knowledge, only to break it down into its three components.

So, to our business of finding Truth. I must make it clear that I am not attempting to investigate the nature of Truth itself, its many complexities and misattributions. As Beauty is commonly used to describe many things which are not truly beautiful, merely elegant, picturesque, alluring or some lesser aesthetic quality, it is quite possible that our notion of Truth would include those which, if a thorough consideration were applied, would need to be demoted. However, this is not my aim. As it is acceptable, for the purposes of buying an oil painting, for instance, to use a wide and admittedly imperfect notion of beauty, I hope that it will serve my purposes to do the same for truth, and that you, my reader, will forgive my failure to think more clearly and precisely. Truth then, for the purposes of a preface only, we may take as corresponding to reality, as it is described by science and believed by men of common sense. Let us for now put metaphysical speculations aside and concentrate on the lives of men, leaving the Forms to their business.

“Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord,” we are told by Solomon in the Book of Proverbs. Indeed, for most of us our first encounter with the truth is as a child, when we are told to tell the truth, and not to lie. Is this then where the philosopher should search for Truth? When we look at those who do not deceive, we see that what they are saying corresponds with what they believe. However, this is not Truth in itself. For one could imagine a lie, by coincidence, being factually accurate and therefore true. On the other hand, the thoughts of a liar, and his beliefs and opinions, may be true, while what he says is not. It seems that in this area, it is better to consider the issue of sincerity. A sincere man will say what he thinks, which may be true or not. To speak the truth, however, we must be more than sincere, we must have some knowledge of it, and our words must express this.

Let us then return to statements which are made, being able as we now are to ignore those which are insincere, and to concentrate our search for truth in those sayings and writings which accurately reveal the author’s beliefs. I believe that there are two ways to search for truth in a statement of language, and that it is the understanding of these which is the key to this question. However, with spoken expressions, we almost always have a fair amount of knowledge concerning the speaker – even if they are a stranger to us we know what they are wearing, their height, accent, and can usually gain a little of the motivation for what they say by considering the circumstances. Therefore our knowledge of the speaker influences our analysis of the statement itself. However, when reading, particularly when reading classics or other works where we are far removed by time and place from the author, we are forced to consider to a greater extent the words on their own merits. Here, then, is where we see the contrast most starkly.

A clear example of this is with the Holy Scriptures. For many of the books of the Bible, the authorship is uncertain, and what is known about the authors is severely limited. In addition, the writers lived in both places and times far removed from our own. Despite this, vast numbers of people, both inside and outside of organised religious traditions, have scoured its pages in a search for Truth. It is also certain that there is considerable disagreement as to how this resource is to be used. Broadly speaking, there are two main methods, although most readers will use both techniques and will not draw sharp boundaries.

There is one group who read books and apply them to their own lives, seeking to find truth which may not have been explicitly intended. This does not mean that each person’s interpretation is equally true, but it does mean that it is possible for there to be truth in a sentence which was not explicitly proposed by the author. This can be seen in Shakespeare’s use of irony, where what is said by the characters delivers an apparently unintended truth to the audience. Historians and others of a similar mind do not attempt this, but seek to discover what was intended by the author. In order to do this it is important to know the context, to make comparisons with other contemporary writings and to, as far as one can, enter the mindset of the author. As already mentioned, many will use a combination of these practices according to their objectives and their situation.

These two methods or comprehensions can be applied to any work. When applying oneself to Machiavelli’s Discourses, for example, one man may find it useful to read a biography of the Florentine, to compare his work to those of the period, to examine his letters and habits, so as to gain the greatest insight into the intended argument. When asked how useful and accurate the composition before him is, he will examine the arguments that the author made, and, if a fault can be found in them, will conclude that the book, while intriguing, is flawed, or relevant only to its particular period. Another man, however, may do none of this. Instead, he says to himself, “As this work has been preserved for many years, there must be something in it. Let’s give M the benefit of the doubt, and construct the best possible argument from what is written that we may use this to aid our understanding of politics.” When asked how useful the book is, the second man will recite what he has been able to glean from it, and if the argument he has produced is stronger, and more useful than that particularly intended by the author, he will not mind one jot. We cannot say that one of these modes of thought is superior to the other; they have entirely different aims. The first man is trying to understand Machiavelli’s psychology, his motivations, and his beliefs as a man and as a politician. The second may as well not know who has written the book at all, he is trying to gain knowledge of the subject for himself, and is more interested in the politics and philosophy than history and psychology. Indeed, it can be interesting to have both ways of understanding a book in mind when reading it, so one can gain knowledge of all of the above fields, and understand, if a stronger argument can be made, why the original writer did not manage to express this.

This distinction, however, gives us considerable insight into the relationship between spoken and written statements and Truth. Indeed, it shows that a statement’s truth depends on how it is read, and indeed, it is clear that, depending on the context in which it is spoken, and the reception that it receives, the same statement can be seen as being both true and false. For example, the statement “The princes in the tower” would seem true, if I were asked to name victims of Richard III. However, it would seem manifestly false if the question were “Who commanded the Armada?” From this, it can be seen that a statement is not simply true or false in itself; the truth we apply to it depends on the beliefs which underlie our utterances. Is this really that surprising? For, after all what distinguishes a statement from a clanging cymbal, or an inscription from mere gashes in a stone? Solely the fact that it can be interpreted. We cannot apply truth to mere noise, or knowledge to mere ink on parchment. A statement, as a string of words written or uttered, is neither true nor false.

We will find if we are being precise, it is wrong to call statements made using language true or false at all. The statement is a mere vehicle, an imperfect but usually reliable way of transmitting information about our beliefs. The statement itself does not correspond to reality. Instead, it is our belief that a state of affairs is so that either corresponds to reality or does not. Thus, only a belief, and not a written sentence or a remark which is spoken, can be said to be true or false. Thus, it is in our beliefs that we must look for truth, and be wary of falsehood.

This may seem like the mere splitting of philosophical hairs. After all, we do not know what another believes except by interpreting their statements and actions. If statements are all we can possibly know, then the above distinction, even if it is accurate, is not worth the paper upon which it is inscribed. However, I will attempt to show that this distinction is vitally important when we consider the question of knowledge, which is surely of great importance to philosophy. In particular, I wish to show that if the above is considered, the Examples given by Mr. Gettier, when he argues that Justified True Belief is not knowledge, do not cause a problem to the definition, and that, as this is the main stumbling block which has been encountered, the tripartite definition of knowledge is as far as we know correct.

The first example I shall consider is one of Gettier’s own1. In this situation, Smith and Jones are both applying for a job. Smith is justified in believing that Jones has 10 coins in his pocket. Smith is also justified in believing that Jones will get the job. The proposition The man who will get the job has 10 coins in his pocket seems therefore to be an accurate portrayal of Smith’s justified belief. However, against all expectations, Smith is offered the job. Unknown to him, he also has 10 coins in his pocket. Initially, it looks as if his proposition is true, and as it is also believed with justification, we are tempted to conclude that this is indeed a Justified True Belief. As, however, we would not like to say that Smith knew this; hence this definition of knowledge is inadequate.

In the storm that this example caused when first released, philosophers grappled with what seemed to be the most ambiguous part of the definition, namely the justification clause. However it is clear that in this situation S is justified in believing P. Now, in the light of our earlier discussion, let us take another look at the proposition. It is possible, by modelling the world as such, that “who will get the job has 10 coins in his pocket” can be entirely unambiguous – there is only one job, which only one man can get, we agree on a definition of coins and pockets, and of ownership of these. However, The man must be ambiguous, as in order for the example to work there must be two men, Smith and Jones. P is therefore true/false, depending on the identity of the man, which, I think we can safely conclude, refers to one, actual, concrete man rather than an abstract concept of any man. If we were determined to discover whether P is true or false, we would have to seek out Smith and ask him, which man did he mean? It seems clear that in this situation he would reply that, as he believed that Jones would get the job, the man refers to Jones. However, by substituting these now-identical terms, we have made the proposition false; Jones did not get the job. Smith’s belief, although justified, is now not true. It seems sensible that by clarifying the ambiguity in the language, we have not changed Smith’s belief about the state of affairs, so we must conclude that his belief was false all along, and he therefore never had knowledge of P.

Here the sceptic could object that Smith was indeed talking about a man in the abstract, not a concrete figure. For instance, he could, it must be admitted, simply believe that a man with 10 coins in his pocket will get the job, without identifying this in any way with Jones. However, if this is the case, how can it be that his belief is justified? He is justified in believing that Jones has 10 coins, but we have not seen Smith rifling through the pockets of an abstract form of a man!

It may however be accepted that this example fails, while still holding that some Gettier examples are conclusive. The original two situations are now rarely used to illustrate the criticism of Justified True Belief; they are usually replaced by more recent examples. I shall now take a more complex and persuasive example and show that the same method can be used to discount the criticism of the tripartite definition, before looking, in more general terms, at the failings of all such examples.

Imagine that I am sitting in my study, and I hear a siren from the direction of Broad Street. I know that, when one hears a siren of this description, it is produced by a police car, and therefore believe, with considerable justification, that there is a police car on Broad Street. However, I am mistaken; there is instead a prankster who is activating a siren in an attempt to cause a nuisance. There is in fact a police car on the street, driving quietly so as to intercept this disturber of the peace. Here the statement ‘There is a police car driving down Broad Street’ seems to be doubtless true. There is even a causal connection between the justification and the truth of the proposition. Surely here we have a Justified True Belief which is nevertheless not knowledge?2

Let us look at what exactly it is I believe when I make the statement, ‘there is a police car driving down Broad Street.’ I believe that there is an object in that location, that it is moving, that it is a car, and more specifically a police car, that inside are police officers, and that it is sounding its siren, and many other things about it. I must believe that it is sounding its siren, as if not, my belief cannot be said to be justified. Hearing a siren is not a justification for believing that there is a car driving silently nearby. I can therefore make many propositions about the state of affairs, all of which I believe, some of which are true. It is not true, however, that the police car has its siren on. In this situation, the term police car is ambiguous, it does not give me enough information to make a decision as to the truth or otherwise of my belief. When clarified, my belief, that there is an object in that location with the attributes listed above, is not true.

The obvious reply to this is that although my belief is a bundle of propositions, not all of them have to be true in order for the belief to count as Justified and True. However, let us consider what would occur if a different proposition was altered. It could be the case that I am correct in believing that there was a moving object carrying police officers in that location, sounding a siren. However, instead of being a car, the policemen in question are riding a pink rhinoceros down Broad Street, which has been conveniently equipped with a siren. Here we would not say that I am correct in believing that a police car was driving down Broad Street, with a siren and all of the other attributes above. By altering any one of the propositions which make up my belief, the belief is fundamentally altered. Thus, in order for our belief to be true, all of the propositions need to be correct, and any falsehood will remove the status of knowledge.

In view of this, we need to reconsider how we think about knowledge. Although the tripartite definition is usually referred to, saying that knowledge is a justified true belief, this is used to mean a proposition which is believed and also true and also justified, hence the term ‘propositional knowledge’. This is made explicitly clear at the start of Mr. Gettier’s paper, for instance. However, we have seen that beliefs are not single propositions, but whole bundles of them, which we could not hold independently, but only together in relation with one another. For propositions do not exist in the mind; only beliefs exist in the mind. It is the ambiguity of spoken and written language, and the desire for brevity at the expense of clarity, which leads us to think that a single proposition can be in itself a belief. Knowledge, being a relationship between internal beliefs and the external state of the world, deals in beliefs as they are, rather than as they are expressed.

It is important to note that this distinction in no way shows that Justified True Belief is knowledge. It shows, however, that the Gettier counterexamples do in no way argue that it is not knowledge, and so for the time being we should accept the tripartite definition. There is, I put to you, in every ‘Gettier case’ at least one term which is ambiguous as to its reference. This leads to the sentence being justified on one reading of it, and true only on another reading of it, while that word must refer to only one object in reality. Now if more evidence comes to light that this is not how we should define knowledge, this must be addressed and the definition changed. However, for the moment there can be no objection to defining knowledge as Justified, True Belief.

By DOUGLAS JASON KEFFLER

Abstract

In this essay, I will prove that in order to couple our commonsense notion of identity with the strict philosophical notion of identity there must be a specific interpretation of the philosophical notion of identity.  The interpretation comes from a distinction between two kinds of properties of an individual- changeable and unchangeable.  A changeable property is anything that can be proven to be contingent to an individual.  An unchangeable property is anything that is necessary to an individual.  The latter will prove to be the correct interpretation of a property under the philosophical notion of identity so that it can be coupled with our commonsense notion of identity.

The Puzzle

In order for something to be identical to something else it must be uniquely identical to that other thing.  To clarify, if A is identical to B, then A is uniquely related to B; and only A and B share this relation.  It is important to separate the philosophical idea of identity from the broader, commonsensical idea of identity.  The philosophical idea would logically determine from the definition above that only one thing exists.  That is, A and B are the same thing.  The commonsensical idea may assume that A and B are still two completely separate things that happen to be identical.  An example of this would be identical twins.  A paradox, or puzzle, of identity does not arise from the commonsensical definition.  Therefore, the focus is primarily on the philosophical one.

The focus on identity in this paper will be taken from the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical,” which states: If A is identical with B, then A and B have exactly the same properties (Perry, 784).  The problem that this particular definition poses to identity is that when the concept of linear time is taken as a property of an individual it follows that this property is ever changing.  More specifically, if it is assumed that time is in a constant state of progression, never stopping, then an individual thing can never be identical to itself from the previous instant.  For example, A exists at t₁ and has the property of being at/in/of t₁.  Time progresses and it is now t₂.  A is now existing in t₂ and no longer has the property of t₁.  Thus, according to the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical”, A is not the same individual as it was one t-moment ago.  It would then follow that a person is not the same person day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute and so on.  With the problem now clearly expressed, why is this a problem worth solving and to whom?  The answer is anyone who believes that they are the same individual thing that they were when they woke up this morning, were five years ago, or were when they read the previous sentence.  This “problem of identity” completely undercuts our commonsense notion of identity.  Therefore, the goal of this paper is to bridge the gap between the commonsense notion of identity with the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical”, while not significantly changing the definitions of either.

Possible Solutions

The most apparent problem is in the conception of time as a property.  The principle of the indiscernibility of the identical, tacitly, forces an individual to individualize itself by its properties.  From this, most would agree that time is an important property of an individual.  After all, it is a property that we use to discern individuals from others in everyday life.  For example, when someone says, “I thought I saw you around the water fountain around lunch time.  Was that you?”, and you say, “No, it couldn’t have been me because I wasn’t at school around lunch time.”  This illustrates the application of time as a property.  But, time as a necessary property of an individual is an assumption made by the philosophical view.  Further examination will need to take place in order for this assumption to be taken seriously.  If time can prove to be a worthwhile property of an individual, or even a property that needs to hold in order to determine an individual, then there is some serious work that needs to be done in order to couple it with the philosophical view.  But, if it cannot, then the solution to the puzzle will just be a dismissal of time as a property that is necessary to an individual, because it has no effect on an individual’s identity.  The solution may be found through the application of time as a property.

Is it possible to imagine a world in which no time exists?  The answer is yes and there are two solutions to what that world is.  This world can either be a constant or steady universe in which the “idea” of time just simply exists.  It is what theoretical physicist would call a B-theory of time.  An easy way to imagine it is as the entire universe is a block or chunk that exists while everything “spins” about inside of it.  There is no temporal movement within it.  No temporal movement should be understood as time does not move as our commonsense would tell us it does.  That is, in a linear, or number line like motion with no ability to regress, only the ability to progress.  This world could have a god outside of it which gave it being, but that is irrelevant to the topic at hand.  The second theory of time would be that the only world that exists is in the present.  That means that we cannot ever refer to a previous instant because it does not exist anymore.  More specifically, the present-state theory would only allow for us, strictly speaking, to talk about “right now”, but we could never to this.  By the time we got done talking about “now”, “now” would have already passed out of existence.  The implausibility of the second idea is obviously apparent.  The former may be able to disprove time as existing necessarily.  Let us parallel it with ours that we are presently in.  It holds all the same scientific laws and is exactly similar in all ways, except no intelligent life exists.  This assertion is important because it could be possible that time is only a property that exists when you assume that humans live in the world.  To clarify, take a circle, square, triangle, or any geometric shape.  They all have certain necessary properties that distinguish them from other individual shapes and keep them identical to themselves.  Humans do not ascribe these properties to them they just inherently have them.  We may give the properties names such as: “four-sided”, “four right-angles”, and “180 degrees”, but we cannot say that we ascribe these inherent properties.  Furthermore, we ascribe time as a property of our world as we ascribe hot or cold to something.  A fire is not hot to itself it is only hot to us or anything else that is not as hot as it.  The property of hot or cold would not exist if humans did not ascribe it to help us better understand our world. Time is just that.  As Hume thought, we say something came before something else in cause and effect relationships to help us better understand what is taking place in front of us.  Time should be thought of just as Hume and Kant believed that we as humans bring these properties into existence through the way in which we perceive the world.  Therefore, in a steady universe, time would not apply if humans were taken out of it.  The universe would simply be in that everlasting state with everything “spinning” about inside of it.  To clarify, if one is logically permitted to assert that time is just a property that we ascribe, and the universe would be the same without the ascription of it, then we could still uphold the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical” by dismissing the property of time.  Time is just a misrepresentation of what the principle is speaking to when it says, “property”.  The interpretation of the word “property” in the definition of the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical” should be interpreted as necessary properties of an individual i.e. properties that hold in all possible worlds/universes, for example, the aforementioned right-angle of a square.

Therefore, the only properties that should be taken into account when discussing “the indiscernibility of the individual” are the necessary ones not the contingent ones.  If contingent properties are considered when assessing if an individual is the same individual, then it is possible to constantly be changing a contingent property of an individual and, thus, constantly be changing that individual.  Surely, though, a reliable principle would not be guilty of this.  Thus, “property” should be interpreted as only those properties that are necessary to an individual when using this principle in assessment of an individual.

Although this solution solves the problem of time and the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical”, it is unable to solve the problem that time poses to the commonsense notion of identity.  The reason for this is because our commonsense notion of time is that it is linear and something that necessarily exists even without us.  This conception would be completely opposite from the potentially acceptable idea of time that is needed in order to avoid the problems in the philosophical view of the individual that was previously stated.  More specifically, if we uphold commonsense and trust it, then we cannot say that it is wrong and our view of the world needs to change.  Commonsense tells us that we do not need to do that.  It is commonsense for a reason i.e. we have some sort of internally trust in it.  Therefore, the solution of re-evaluating time as a property of an individual would go against what it means to have commonsense, and that is not the goal of the paper.  A unification of the philosophical view and the commonsensical view is the only solution the paradox.

The Next Solution

A successful solution may be found in what kind of distinction can be made by analyzing what types of properties exist.  There are all sorts of properties that exist in our world.  Person-hood, hot, green, round, and big are examples of what we think are all different properties from each other.  However, it is possible to show that there is really only one distinction that needs to be made when categorizing properties.  That is, there are properties that are unchangeable and there are properties that are changeable.

A changeable property should be thought of as any property that is contingent on something else.  This has a very broad scope.  This “something” could be another property, human, world, law of science, or an individual.  Let us take an easy idea of a changeable property to help grasp this move.  For example, hair on an individual is an easily changed property.  It is often cut by people every three to four weeks.  This “cutting” is a changing of a previous property of that individual.  Painting one’s house is also an example of a changing of a “changeable” property.  Changeable properties are ones that are contingent to something else.  In these examples the hair is contingent on there being a person and the paint is contingent to the house.  It is important to note also that the hair is not contingent to the hair being there because this is a necessary and quite trivial truth.

Now that we have a clear idea of what a “changeable” property is, we should see if it can satisfy our criteria of identity.  With respect to commonsense, it can be done.  When a changeable property of an individual is changed we would never say that that person is a new individual.  If Bobby got a hair cut and I see him previous to that and then after, I would not say Bobby is a different individual.  That is, Bobby is a different Bobby.  I would say that he is still the same individual just with a different property of hair.  Therefore, this distinction of “changeable” would give no problems to our commonsense idea of identity.  In fact, it basically plays right into the notion of commonsense, and it is probably a foundational idea for where this commonsense idea of identity comes from.

The second criterion, upholding the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical”, does not fare too well.  The principle states that an individual must “have exactly the same properties” if it is to be the same individual.  If we take “changeable” properties to apply to this, we find that the individual is not the same as the previous one, even if that individual actually is the same person—as in the “hair cut” example.  Therefore, interpreting “property” as being “changeable” fails to satisfy the second criterion.

Although the notion of “changeable properties” does not satisfy the second criterion an enlightening point can be drawn from this.  To interpret a “property” as “changeable” under this criterion would prove to be inherently flawed.  The individual must keep “exactly the same properties” in order for it to be the same individual.  And, if that is the case they cannot be allowed to change if we are to satisfy it.  The properties under the interpretation of the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical” must be “unchangeable”.  If they are, then it will satisfy the second criterion very easily.  If an example of an “unchangeable” property can be given and supported and it can satisfy the criteria, then it can be shown how it is possible to solve the puzzle of identity.

Solving the Puzzle

A property must be shown to be “unchangeable” if it is to have any foundation for its application to the two criteria.  An “unchangeable” property should be thought of as one that is necessary to an individual and cannot be shown to be contingent at all to anything other than itself.  There are some properties that often come to mind when we are talking about them as “necessary to an individual”.  Properties such as: personhood to a person, extension to a physical object, or the efficacious property of a cause.  These would all seem like plausible properties that, if were changed, would change the individual into another individual.  Moreover, if they were changed, then that individual would not be itself anymore.  For example, to say that a cause is still a cause if it lost its efficacious property would prove that it cannot be a cause anymore.   It could still be something, though.  This something, whatever it is would still “be”; and that something/individual could be shown to be the same individual even if it lost all its properties except one.  That property is existence.  Existence is the only unchangeable property of an individual which keeps it from changing into a different individual.  If you were to change an individual’s existence, then it would cease to exist; and no longer be capable of being a different individual.  Therefore, existence is the only “unchangeable” property of an individual.

Conclusion

The problem, or paradox, of identity is now solved by showing how the criteria can be satisfied by applying our new notion of existence as a foundation for why we know we are the same person that woke up this morning to who is reading this sentence right now.  We understand that we existed then and we exist now.  Therefore, we are the same individuals.  A possible objection to this point would be to object to how we know we exist.  But, as Descartes showed “I think, therefore I am” is an a priori truth about existence.  Thus, it would follow that if an individual is capable of affirming its existence at any time, then it can affirm itself to be the same individual that exists at the present moment.  A possible objection to this point would be that an individual that does not think would never be able to affirm its existence.  To this, I would agree, because it is irrelevant for a non-thinking thing to be able to affirm its existence.  This is true because “being able to affirm” is only an attribute of a thing which holds the capacity to affirm, i.e. a thinking thing.  I would ask for the person to show me proof of a thinking thing that can “affirm” without being able to think.  From this, it might follow that artificial intelligence could be possible proof of that type of thing, but much work would need to be done in order to show that it is an intelligible view worth holding.

The second criterion is solved by showing that if the principle of “the indiscernibility of the identical” is correctly interpreted as only applying to “unchangeable” properties, then it too is satisfied.  More specifically, the principle, as previously discussed, should only be interpreted in this way if it is to be coupled with our commonsense idea of identity.  If the principle is not interpreted in this way, then I will never be able to escape the paradox of being a different individual from the moment I started this paper to the moment I ended it.

Works Cited

Perry, John.,  ed.  Introduction to Philosophy Classical and Contemporary Readings.  4^th Edition.  New York:  Oxford, 2007.

Douglas Jason Keffler (’09) is a Philosophy major at Arizona State University.

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Note: Homepage thumbnail taken from *TIME-24′s deviantART.

By SHANE STEINERT-THRELKELD

The ascetic ideal is a seemingly self-denying force characterized by “poverty, humility, chastity” (3:8, 108) [1]. It is piety embodied, sensuality restrained. That such an ideology has flourished and recurred (as Nietzsche references with India) throughout societal development is a seeming paradox: the dominant ideal of humanity is a life-denying one. How, or rather why, then, has the ascetic ideal triumphed? Where does it come from? One easy answer is that there were no competing ideals. This answer, because it is elliptical, ultimately fails to satisfy. For instance: why did no other ideals form? Was it impossible to create an alternative ideal and, if so, why? From these questions, one sees that there must be more at work behind the ascetic ideal, a more convincing reason for its triumph. This reason is “that something was lacking, that man was surrounded by a fearful void,” and that “the ascetic ideal offered man meaning,” by placing “all suffering under the perspective of guilt” (3:28, 162). This interpretation hinges upon two key conditions: that suffering constitutes a part of being human and that man cannot bear undirected suffering, suffering without a purpose.

The theme of human suffering pervades all three books of the Genealogy of Morals. When Nietzsche refers to “the whole herd of the ill-constituted, disgruntled, underprivileged, unfortunate, and all who suffer of themselves,” he is not talking about an outcast minority group (3:13, 120). The above herd is led by the ascetic priest, whose life’s purpose it is “to exploit the bad instincts of all sufferers for the purpose of self-discipline, self-surveillance, and self-overcoming,” (3:16, 128) whose “degenerating life” is the source from which sprung the ascetic ideal (3:13, 120). This suffering herd encompasses virtually all of humanity. Additionally, Nietzsche sees progress as impossible without suffering: “Every small step on earth has been paid for by spiritual and physical torture” (3:9, 114). When analyzed on its own, the slave revolt in morality, discussed in the First Essay, can be interpreted as a clever ploy by the Jews to alleviate their earthly suffering by inverting the current value hierarchy. Their invention of heaven, with piousness rewarded, turned the prevailing definition of bad, under which they suffered, into good. The point of these examples is clear enough: suffering is a central part of the human condition.

That man suffers is not enough of an initial condition to give rise to the ascetic ideal; man must be driven mad by meaningless suffering. In fact, because man has suffered throughout his history, “he desires it [suffering], he even seeks it out, provided he is shown a meaning for it, a purpose of suffering” (3:28, 162). Man must be shown such a meaning so that he has a target at which he can direct his emotions because “the venting of his affects represents the greatest attempt on the part of the suffering to win relief” (3:15, 127). While this sort of emotional response may seem the hallmark of revenge, of reactive anger, Nietzsche points out a difference: revenge prevents future suffering but does not explain past suffering or give meaning to it. The release of affects, referred to above by Nietzsche, attacks the source of suffering in a much more fundamental way.

This release which gives meaning to man’s suffering must have a target; that is what had been lacking before the ascetic priest offered an explanation for the source of suffering. While every “sickly sheep” (notice the language of the herd) thinks “‘I suffer: someone must be to blame for it,’” the ascetic priest finally gives man a source for this blame: “But you alone are to blame for it-you alone are to blame for yourself!” (3:15, 128). Thus the ascetic priest gave all sufferers, which is virtually all man, a meaning for his suffering: guilt. While the ascetic ideal “brought fresh suffering with it, deeper more inward, more poisonous, more life-destructive suffering,” it is actually a life-preserving force because, “it placed all suffering under the perspective of guilt” (3:28, 162). If man did not have such a perspective, he would have no target upon which to release his affects and would thus see no meaning to his suffering. Pointless suffering, according to Nietzsche, could be said to be the bane of man’s existence: if we suffer continuously and for no apparent reason, we will be driven to a “suicidal nihilism” (3:28, 162). In giving man a meaning for his suffering, the ascetic ideal prevents suicidal nihilism; therefore, while being a seemingly life-denying force (because asceticism’s trademark is a lack of sensuality), the ascetic ideal is actually the ultimate life-preserver. For as Nietzsche reminds us multiple times in the Third Essay: the human will “needs a goal-and it will rather will nothingness than not will” (3:1, 96).

While I earlier contended that there was no alternative ideal to the ascetic one, many would argue that atheism, as the lack of all ideals, appears to be an alternative. But pure atheism, the pure lack of ideals, does not exist among any “free spirits”: they still have the will to truth, the constant desire to know and to know objectively. It will later be shown that these spirits are not, in fact, free. Because this will is the backbone of philosophy and science, one might believe that these endeavors are free from asceticism.

An ancient monastery for Hindu ascetics.

The ascetic ideal is at work in philosophy in two ways: in a very literal, although spiritual, sense and as a precondition to philosophy’s existence. In the literal sense: “ascetic ideals reveal so many bridges to [physical and metaphysical] independence that a philosopher is bound to rejoice” (3:7, 107). The sensual deprivation, the absence of tempting pleasures, that the ascetic ideal produces are highly conducive to the act of philosophizing. One can interpret Descartes’ approach in the Meditations as the ascetic practice of philosophy taken to its extreme: by withdrawing from society, Descartes would have no distractions blocking his will to truth. In the ascetic ideal, the philosopher finds “an optimum condition for the highest and boldest spirituality” because it entails “freedom from compulsion, disturbance, noise, from tasks, duties, worries,” et cetera [2] (3:8, 108). That so many major philosophers have remained unmarried serves as a testament to a fundamental relationship between philosophy and asceticism; viewed as such, Nietzsche regards Socrates’ marriage as an intentionally ironical one.

While the ascetic ideal is directly at work in philosophy as shown above, Nietzsche also shows that “the ascetic ideal for a long time served the philosopher as a form in which to appear, as a precondition of existence” (3:10, 115). Nietzsche uses a discussion on the nature of ancient contemplative men to explain why this relationship exists. The most ancient of such men live lives where, “when not feared, they were despised” (3:10, 115). Because the values of ancient society opposed the values of philosophy and its will to truth, a philosopher had to strike fear in others in order to live. By resorting to self-torture, the Brahmans and King Vishvamitra were able to gain power over themselves and their societal conditioning so as to willingly practice philosophy and innovation. From these origins arose contemplative man, the earliest philosopher. Their stories illustrate Nietzsche’s point that “the philosophic spirit always had to use as a mask and cocoon the previously established types of the contemplative man” (3:10, 115). For modern philosophy, this previously established type was the ascetic ideal. The modern philosopher had to represent the ascetic ideal to avoid continual physical and spiritual torture; to represent the ideal, he had to believe it.

In science, the story is slightly different: it is the exaltation of truth that makes science “the latest and noblest form” of the ascetic ideal (3:23, 147). Just as the ascetic ideal is a denying force, so too is science: it denies even the possibility that absolute truth does not exist. While scientists may seem like the ultimate free spirits in that they do not follow the traditional faith of the ascetic ideal, they are in fact constrained by an “unconditional will to truth” that is “faith in a metaphysical value, the absolute value of truth” (3:24, 151). This faith is in fact the same faith that is behind the ascetic ideal because it is a complete denial. As guilt causes sensual denial in the general form of the ascetic ideal, so does faith in truth cause denial among scientists. While science first appears completely antagonistic to the ascetic ideal, “it opposes and fights, on closer inspection, not the ideal itself but only its exteriors, its guise and masquerade, its temporary dogmatic hardening and stiffening” (3:25, 153). At its core, science is just another embodiment of the ideal it purports to oppose. Science seems faithless, free from asceticism, but its ardent belief in itself, in its own supreme value, (this belief can be said to be the strongest will to truth) is in fact an ascetic belief.

For many of the purposes of this essay from here on, science and philosophy can be treated as one. They are both related to the ascetic ideal in their will to truth. In Nietzsche’s treatment of science, he writes:

these hard, severe, abstinent, heroic spirits who constitute the honor of our age; all these pale atheists, anti-Christians, immoralists, nihilists…these last idealists of knowledge…believe they are as completely liberated from the ascetic ideal as possible, these ‘free, very free spirits’ (3:24, 148-150)

Above, this belief in liberation was shown false. While philosophy is absent from that long list, as an umbrella discipline, it covers the belief systems above. Like scientists, philosophers are guilty of being “idealists of knowledge” in the sense of possessing a will to truth. While the two disciplines go about searching for truth (and here there is a distinction between truth and knowledge) very differently, they still possess the same will to truth that links their disciplines to the ascetic ideal.

The distinction between truth and knowledge mentioned above is a very important one. Most importantly: “There is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective ‘knowing’; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our ‘concept’ of this thing, our ‘objectivity,’ be” (3:12, 119). From this we see that knowledge is inherently perspectival. Everything one knows has been influenced by the perspective from which he/she learned it. While this passage may seem to be a defense of relativism, it is in fact not: Nietzsche does not deny that objective truth exists (he does not explicitly affirm it either), but argues that we cannot know it. If we extend the knowledge-as-seeing analogy from the passage, one could say that the object upon which our knowledge gazes is truth in an objective sense. But there are an infinite number of perspectives (affects in Nietzsche’s terms) from which to view this truth and thus we can never know an objective truth. Hence the quotation marks around “objectivity.” The objectivity he is speaking of is a partial objectivity: by letting more eyes gaze upon a thing, we do learn more about its objective truth than one person alone could, but complete objectivity can never be reached.

From this new conception of knowledge and truth arises a problem with the methods of philosophy and science: the will to truth is a pretension that knowledge is objective truth. These ardent seekers of truth, who exalt truth above all else, fail to acknowledge the perspectival nature of human knowledge. All scientific research, all philosophical inquiry, is driven by the motivations of the respective truth-seekers. Nietzsche refers to this blindness as a “general renunciation of all interpretation,” and shows that it, “expresses, broadly speaking, as much ascetic virtue as any denial of sensuality” (3:24, 151). From this angle, one sees the will to truth not just as denial that truth could not exist, but as a denial of other perspectives because scientists and philosophers choose to pretend that what they discover is the Truth. But research yields only knowledge, and in this renunciation of interpretation one denies oneself a more complete picture of reality, a more complete objectivity in the words of the original passage from 3:12.

Nietzsche believes one must try to overcome the ascetic ideal in philosophy and science by calling into question the value of truth. To do so would mean being honest with ourselves and becoming more self-aware as truth-seekers. To realize that our knowledge is merely one perspective is the first step to overcoming the ascetic ideal. Scientists and philosophers are, to Nietzsche, “weary and played-out people who wrap themselves in wisdom and look ‘objective’” (3:26, 158). They blind themselves into thinking that they are opponents of the ascetic ideal, that they alone can know truth. But being guided by personal motivations, this can never be the case. To properly pursue science is to recognize that what one discovers is only a piece of the picture, one angle of viewing an object.

Raising the idea of such an overcoming, Nietzsche asks the startling question: “[W]hat meaning would our whole being possess if it were not this, that in us the will to truth becomes conscious of itself as a problem?” (3:27, 161). Perhaps our “objectivity” would actually become more objective. Instead of the intense competition that is found in academic and industrial research, this self-awareness could create a sense of collaboration among all truth-seekers in the world. To fight amongst scientists and philosophers is to rob oneself of other perspectives, to deny oneself more knowledge of the object (since one person alone cannot possess an objective truth), to succumb to the ascetic ideal.

Nietzsche quotes his book Gay Science: “[W]e men of knowledge of today, we godless men and anti-metaphysicians, we, too, still derive our flame from the fire ignited by a faith millennia old, the Christian faith, which was also Plato’s, that God is truth, that truth is divine” (3:25, 152). While it is hard for many of us, especially at a research university like Johns Hopkins, to deny the divinity of truth, overcoming the ascetic ideal and accepting the value of knowledge for what it truly is might actually ignite that flame more. If one research group cannot truly know the nature of its object, then all of human knowledge today is but a small, small slice of objectivity. We still have a long way to go.

Works Cited

Nietzsche, Friedrich. On the Genealogy of Morals. Trans. Walter Kaufman. New York: Vintage Books, 1989.

Footnotes

(1) Citations are from Walter Kaufman’s translation of On the Genealogy of Morals and have the format (Essay:Section, Page)

(2) Nietzsche goes on listing for an entire paragraph.

Shane Steinert-Threlkeld (’11) is a Mathematics and Philosophy major at Johns Hopkins University.

Note: Art courtesy of University of Louisville’s Hite Art Institute Morgan Lectures.

It is hard to deny that philosophical ideologies and methods have changed throughout history.  The works of particular philosophers and their innovative thoughts, which often clash with those of the public, sometimes trigger these changes.  Rene Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy contains many interesting thoughts on mind and knowledge, one being his claim that there is nothing easier for him to understand than his own mind.  His ideas conflicted greatly with the ideas held by people in that era, but Descartes attempted to prove his view on the mind even if he expected it to seem unbelievable and far-fetched to the masses.  His claims about the mind will further strengthen The Meditations as a whole by supporting his arguments regarding God’s existence and his conception of the levels of reality.  In this essay, I will prove that Descartes’ claim (regarding the understanding of his mind) plays an important role in The Meditations, and that although Descartes did not expect people to believe his claim, he attempted to show the truth in it regardless.

Descartes’ argument proving his existence is derived through his doubts.  Since he doubted that anything existed in the first place, he proved that his thoughts existed in his mind.  He states that he could be deceived by an all powerful “evil deceiver” at any time, but goes on to say, “Then too there is no doubt that I exist, if he is deceiving me.  And let him do his best at deception, he will never bring it about that I am nothing so long as I shall think that I am something” (Cahn 492).  He may doubt that anything else exists in this world but proves that through his thoughts, he exists.  Although this is true, it does not totally prove his argument that the mind is the best thing you can possibly “know” or “understand”.  Even Descartes states this:  “But I do not yet understand sufficiently what I am-I, who now necessarily exist”  (Cahn 493).  He knows that he exists, but he also can perceive his body, which is a separate entity from his mind.  He can sense and imagine his body, which would support his body’s spatial existence but will not prove that he can understand his body’s physical nature through mere sensory perception or imagination.

Descartes argues that he cannot understand material/spatial objects better than his own mind through an example of the changing shapes and properties of a piece of wax. This “wax argument” is how he tries to show that his claim is true, despite him expecting people to find it implausible.  First he establishes that there are three possible mental faculties:  Sensory perception, Imagination, and Intellect.  Sensation alone is not reliable in determining the essence of the wax, because if it was determined by sense alone, its qualities (color, smell, feel, sound, taste) should be constant.  If this wax was melted or formed into a different shape, it would have a different set of sensory qualities that would make it a totally different object.  Since it is the same piece of wax with a different set of sensory qualities, sensation alone cannot reveal the true essence of the wax and the essence of the wax will remain even if all sensory qualities are removed.  If removed, only the extended geometry of the wax will remain.  If imagination alone were to determine the essence of the wax, one would have to imagine every possible shape, size, and geometrical measures of the wax.  Since one cannot imagine all of these shapes the wax can take, imagination alone cannot determine the essence of the wax.  Descartes’ argument to why only intellect is the only faculty of mind that helps to understand the essence of the wax is shown through process of elimination. Descartes reveals that sensing and imagining material objects do not reveal its true essence as a material object, but only through intellect and the mind can we truly understand the essence of physical objects, which is why nothing could be understood more easily than one’s own mind.

Descartes certainly does not expect his readers to believe this theory of the mind, let alone understand the concept of a body/mind dualism.  Through his meditations, Descartes goes against the Aristotelian philosophy that people had been exposed to for more than nineteen hundred years. The reason why he expects his readers to find his claim implausible is the fact that his ideas are so unorthodox that they attempt to prove an uncertainty of all existence, except one’s own mind.  The transition from Aristotelian logic to Cartesian principles of duality and existence would be a long and difficult process, especially with the Catholic Church’s power and influence over the people.  Descartes states at the end of his second meditation:

For since I now know that even bodies are not, properly speaking, perceived by the senses or by the faculty of imagination, but by the intellect alone, and that they are not perceived through their being touched or seen, but only through their being understood, I manifestly know that nothing can be perceived more easily and more evidently than my own mind.  But since the tendency to hang on to long-held beliefs cannot be put aside so quickly, I want to stop here… (Cahn 496)

He believes that the switch from the Aristotelian ideas of attaining knowledge through sensation to ideas that show a distrust in the senses will be so radical a change that he does not expect people to give up their views of truth through their senses.  Aristotle states:  “Some existing things are natural, while others are due to other causes.  Those that are natural are animals and their parts, plants, and the simple bodies, such as earth, fire, air and water; for we say that these things and things of this sort are natural” (Cahn 200).  His belief in the causes (such as the material, formal, efficient, and the final) and the natural essence of materials and physical objects all rely on sensory perception and the way one would perceive a material (substance, shape, form, etc.).  Besides the ideas of his epoch, the duality of mind and body gives rise to various uncertainties such as what “mind” looks like.  If the mind exists, why can no one picture it as a spatial object? How can one understand the natural essence of something one cannot see, hear, taste, smell, or feel? These types of questions about the mind as an image of the senses also relates to the Aristotelian belief that sensory perception and material form constitute natural essence.

Although this idea may have conflicted with Aristotelian concepts of essence and nature, Descartes’ claim that there is nothing better understood than his own mind has contributed an important part in The Meditations, particularly the levels of reality.  From his ideas of levels in reality, Descartes tries to prove God’s existence.  His ideas of reality can come in two forms, Formal reality (the way that God, thoughts, shapes, objects, etc. would exist, if they do exist) and Objective reality (the existence that things have in our minds and ideas of them in our thoughts).  He also develops the Causal Principle, which states two corollaries:  (1) Something cannot be a result of nothing and (2) a cause must have at least as much formal reality as it does objective reality.  Since Descartes proves that the mind exists and objective reality is that which exists only in an object of thought, he is now able to prove that God exists.  Descartes understands his own mind, which holds his thought of an infinite God.  Since it is an idea of God, and not an actual finite substance, this is referred to as an Infinite objective reality.  Since there must be as much formal reality as objective reality in a cause, Descartes proves that, through his understanding of his mind and its thought of an infinite God, the essence of God exists because God is the cause of Descartes’ mere idea/thought of him.  If he did not claim that his mind is the best and easiest thing to understand, he would not be able to rely on his ideas and thoughts as different levels of realities.  Without claiming that there is nothing easier to know than one’s own mind, the levels of reality would not be based around the types of existence that things may possess in our ideas and thoughts.  Without these levels of reality, Descartes’ arguments in the next few meditations regarding the proof of God’s existence would no t have been supported by as strong an argument.  His claim also supports the idea of dualism between mind and body.  In his mind, he can understand the essence of the spatial extension of the body, which he can distinguish from an independently existing, non-spatial mind.

Descartes’ claim that there is nothing easier to understand than one’s own mind helps to support the arguments he states in The Meditations, as well as proves the existence of his thought and the uncertainty of the existence of material objects.  He is aware that his unorthodox views will not be found plausible to the masses, but yet attempts to prove that his claim is truth.  The importance of this claim throughout his work is reflected in his attempt to prove the existence of God and his levels of reality, as well as his attempt to understand the “real distinction” between mind and body.  Descartes’ contributions to the innovation of thought and philosophical principles aided greatly in changing the Aristotelian concepts of physics and inspired other scientists/philosophers to expand upon his views.

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Works Cited

Cahn, Steven M.  Classics of Western Philosophy. Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 2006.

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Rocky Barilla (’11) is a Neuroscience major from Johns Hopkins University.