It has been widely held, and still is held to some extent, that emotion and reason tend to be incompatible, that if a person is influenced by emotion to hold the beliefs he does, or perform the actions he does, then they tend to that extent to be unreasonable. This opinion manifests itself in a variety of ways. For example, it is no coincidence that Sherlock Holmes, the archetypal person of reason, is emotionally cold and detached. In a recent philosophical work, Robert Trigg has written of the emotions

In 1972 Gilbert Ryle published a eulogy to Meinong's theory of objects:

Since that time, the firm of Routley, Routley, Chisholm and Parsons has vigoruously defended Meinong's theory. Are they advocates for a dead client?

According to Myles Brand, ‘[t]he key to advocating a particularist account of events -or any account of events - is to provide adequate identity conditions’ . He thinks that the function of an identity condition is ‘to specify the nature of’ events.

To state an identity condition for events is to provide a way to complete the formula:

The mere fact that a proposed completion of (IC) is true does not imply that it is an informative identity condition for events or that it plays any role in specifying the nature of events.

We cannot know something unless it is true. The things that we know, therefore, must be logically consistent. Moreover, we cannot know something unless we are justified in believing it. But it does not obviously follow that the things that we are justified in believing must be consistent with each other. For we can be justified in believing something that turns out to be false. Knowledge entails truth and hence consistency. Rationally justified belief does not entail truth and it may not entail consistency.

Knowledge, however, requires especially good justification. We can have reason to believe something that happens to be true, even good reason (say, strong circumstantial evidence linking a suspect to a crime), without our belief being so well-grounded that we know it to be true.

'Contentment with our existence, ‘Kant observes, ‘is not, as it were, an inborn possession or a bliss, … it is rather a problem imposed upon us by our finite nature as a being of needs.’ Happiness is an inescapable problem for man; is it, however, the central problem of morality? Kant thinks not. The central problem of morality is the tension between two sets of demands, between two goods- virtue and happiness.

Happiness, according to Kant, is the fulfillment of all of one's wants. It is ‘a rational being's consciousness of the agreeableness of life which without interruption accompanies his whole existence.'

According to conventional wisdom, the causes of economic inequality under capitalism are different in kind from those operating in a socialist system. In socialist societies today the distribution of wealth and income is determined by political authority, whereas in capitalism it is thought to arise mainly from the choices of individuals freely transferring goods and services in the competitive market. Robert Nozick's account of the workings of a ‘free society’ expresses this view clearly:

In this century, much of the discussion of the free will problem has centered around the conditional analysis of ‘can’. Following G.E. Moore, most compatibilists have based their position on the supposition that to say a person could have acted otherwise is simply to say that he would have acted otherwise, if he had chosen (or willed) to. Most incompatibilists have rejected this supposition, arguing that it must not only be true that a person would have acted otherwise if he had chosen (or willed) to, but that it must also be true that the person could have chosen (or could have willed) otherwise than he did. I think that incompatibilists are right here. The question whether determinism entails lack of free will comes down to the question whether determinism entails that no one could have chosen (or could have willed) otherwise than he did.

The basic idea motivating this paper is that something can be done intentionally even when it is not done with the intention of doing it. An implication of this idea is that the distinction between doing what one intends and doing something as a foreseen avoidable consequence of doing what one intends cannot be used to exonerate agents for misdeeds.

My immediate purpose here is to illustrate these points and show how they pertain to the morally relevant difference between active and passive euthanasia, and to the exoneration of God for the production of evil. In particular, I shall try to show, first, that the American Medical Association's recent attempt to distinguish between active and passive euthanasia is seriously defective. Second, I shall try to show that a popular version of the so-called Free Will Defense of God for Evil is also seriously defective.

Most compatibilists have sought to defend their view by means of an analysis of the concept of ‘can’ in terms of subjunctive conditionals. Keith Lehrer opposes this analysis; he nevertheless embraces compatibilism. In a recent paper he has proposed a novel analysis of the concept of ‘can’ within the framework of possible-world semantics. The paper has provoked considerable discussion. In it Lehrer claims that he demonstrates the truth of compatibilism (p. 241). Others have claimed that this is not so, but at least one commentator has asserted that Lehrer's analysis strongly supports compatibilism. In this section I shall give a brief exposition of relevant portions of Lehrer's account of ‘can’ and then in the next section I shall seek to show that it fails to render compatibilism any more plausible than incompatibilism. Indeed, I shall seek to show that, if one of Lehrer's primitive concepts (the concept of an ‘advantage’) is understood as it seems it should be understood, then there would seem to be good reason to believe that his analysis supports not compatibilism but incompatibilism.

Everyone knows what it is to feel a conflict between a ‘non-rational’ desire and reason, as e.g., when we want a second dish of ice cream but think it would be unwise to take it. In such cases we commonly think of our desires as unreasonable: they prompt us to perform some action contrary to our deliberations. Nevertheless, most of us assume that reason can move us: that simply recognizing an act as the most reasonable thing to do gives us a motive to do it — even if in fact we do not perform that action. If we do not eat the second dish of ice cream we are disposed to think that we did not because we judged it unwise. If, on the other hand, we do eat the second dish, we are disposed to think we did because we were more strongly inclined toward eating than not eating, even though we were inclined toward refraining because we judged eating unwise. This is the position of the man on the street. It is the commonsensical notion of reason, motivation, and their relationship.

Among recent materialists, it has become increasingly common to waive questions of the reducibility or even the consistency of psychological and physiological domains of discourse and to argue for the eliminability of mentalistic conceptions in favor of descriptions of the physical workings of organisms.

A more paradigmatic reductionist account has the advantage of giving a clear standard by which we might judge the acceptability of physicalist views: materialism is correct if physical theory is capable of capturing psychological theory. Arguments over this, the identity theory, unfortunately enmeshed theorists in apparently endless disputes over the viability of topic neutral translations; hence, if it is possible for materialists to argue for their position without maintaining a general reduction, such a maneuver would have much to recommend it.

During the past ten years moral philosophers in the English-speaking world have executed an astonishing volte face on the question of whether philosophers qua philosophers have a role as advocates in public policy debates. The standard answer to this question a decade ago was that philosophers were peculiarly qualified to analyze the logic and meaning of moral discourse but were in no way privileged in their ability to make correct moral judgments. This doctrine was a straightforward application of the then equally standard (but of course not universal) trichotomous fact/ value/ analysis distinction. Moral discourse was divided from scientific discourse and philosophy from both. Today philosophers are more than willing to take a stand on public issues — abortion, euthanasia, violence as instrument of social change, any element of foreign policy, preferential treatment of previously discriminated against social groups, and so on. This reversal is easy enough to account for historically.

When I first began to study philosophy I was introduced to the discipline in that magically traditional way by being assured that what lay before me was the love of wisdom. Why this had any adolescent appeal still puzzles me, but, like many others, I joined in as spectator to and occasionally as a removed participant in all the rough and tumble of a Socratic sparring match in the Athenian marketplace. There was some talk of wisdom, to be sure, which seemed to link it with a humble admission of ignorance or a pitch against yielding to temptation, but neither was ever deeply revealing. I waited for more. My next encounter a few years later turned up little more than the surname of an English disciple of Wittgenstein. Somehow the trail had gone to brush, despite the apparent health and energy of philosophy.

Prima facie there is confusion in that part of Marx's theory which deals with religion and revolution. On the basis of Marx's scattered statements on religion one can construct two views of the relationship between revolutionary action and the abolition of the religious mentality. One view is that the exploited class can come to atheism prior to the creation of communist society, and, indeed, must attain a secular consciousness if it is to be the agency of revolution. The other view is that the power of religion cannot be broken until after the communist revolution because only a new economic order can remove the material conditions which sustain religion as a mass phenomenon.

In the face of these conflicting views we are left with two alternatives. Either we can take one of the constructions as the authentic one, or, we can conclude that Marx's position is incoherent. Seeking the best in both worlds, my approach involves showing why the charge of incoherence appears plausible while arguing for a resolution in the direction of the first construction.

According to Utilitarian Generalization (hereafter ‘UG’) an act is right or wrong depending on what would happen if everyone were to do acts of that kind. One chief difficulty in applying UG is to determine which acts share the same relevant properties and are therefore acts of the same kind. In focusing on this problem I first examine the criteria of relevance proposed by Jonathan Harrison and by David Lyons. I show that each of their proposals is inadequate because each allows us to designate as relevant some properties we noncontroversially take to be irrelevant. I next propose a criterion which not only allows us to designate as irrelevant every property that we noncontroversially take to be irrelevant, but which also expresses the underlying causal and generalization features of UG. Since the acid test of any such proposal will be its response to the highly controversial issue of whether the behavior of others is relevant for applications of UG, I turn to this important issue.

Selon Charles Perelman, la logique, étude des moyens de preuve, a été, dans le prolongement du rationalisme cartésien, progressivement réduite à la logique formelle, étude des techniques démonstratives des mathématiciens. Corrélativement, le champ du rationnel a été considérablement rétréci, et les moyens de preuve utilisés dans les sciences humaines ont été mis au rencart. La raison est devenue incompétente dans tousles domaines qui échappent au calcul, les abandonnant aux forces irrationnelles, aux instincts, à la suggestion, à la violence. Refusant cette dichotomie entre la raison calculatrice et l'irrationnel, Perelman, à la recherche d'une voie intermédiaire, découvrit non pas ce qu'il escomptait, c'est à dire une logique des Jugements de valeur, mais la rhétorique. Celle-ci de nos Jours, est tombée en désuétude. Si l'on veut la rani mer, c'est des Anciens qu'il faut s'inspirer: d'Aristote surtout, mais aussi de Platon. C'est à ce dernier que nous voulons consacrer les pages qui suivent.

At a conference on ‘Leisure in Canada,’ held more than a decade ago at Montmorency in Quebec, a participant observed that ‘practically all writers on the subject take Aristotle as the point of departure in discussing leisure but seldom seem to move from that point.’ At first sight this statement may seem surprising. How is it to be understood? Certainly recent writers on leisure do in fact list Aristotle's conception as one of the significant positions on it.

In the first written volume of David Hume's History of England, Hume describes Oliver Cromwell in this uncomplimentary way: