The thesis that rationality consists in the straight-forward maximization of utility has not lacked critics. Typically, however, detractors reject the Humean picture of rationality upon which it seems based; they seek to emancipate reason from the tyranny of the passions. It is, then, noteworthy when an attack on this thesis comes from ‘within the ranks.’

David Gauthier's paper ‘Reason and Maximization’ (1975) is just such an attack; and for this reason, among others, it is interesting. It is not successful, though. In defense of this conclusion, we shall begin by relating the essentials of Gauthier's argument. Then we shall examine in some detail Gauthier's claim that the principle of straighforward max-imization fails to be self-supporting. We shall argue that Gauthier's defense of this claim is at best incomplete. Finally, we shall show that the fact that a normative principle is self-subverting or non-self-supporting does not entail that the principle is defective.

‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’ is, as we all recognize, the inscription over the gate of Dante's hell; but we perhaps forget what precedes that memorable line. Hell, the inscription says, was built by divine power, by the highest wisdom, and by primordial love. Those of us who remember Dante's vivid picture of Farinata in the perpetually burning tombs or Ulysses in the unending and yet unconsuming flames may be able to credit Dante's idea that Hell was constructed by divine power; and if we understand ‘wisdom’ in this context as denoting an intellectual virtue only (and not as connoting a mixed moral and intellectual one), then we might agree that only divine wisdom is capable of making something like Dante's hell.

I want to defend a Combinatorialtheory of possibility. Such a view traces the very idea of possibility to the idea of the combinations – all the combinations which respect a certain simple form – of given, actual, elements. Combination is to be understood widely enough to cover the notions of expansion and contraction. (My central metaphysical hypothesis is that all there is is the world of space and time. It is this world which is to supply the actual elements for the totality of combinations. So what is proposed is a Naturalistic form of a combinatorial theory.)

The combinatorial idea is not new, of course. Wittgenstein gave a classical exposition of it in the Tractatus. Perhaps its charter is 3.4: ‘A proposition determines a place in logical space. The existence of this logical place is guaranteed by the mere existence of the constituents’ (my italics). There is a small additional combinatorial literature. I myself was converted to a combinatorial view by Brian Skyrms’ brief but fascinating article ‘Tractarian Nominalism.’

Suppose that John has a moral obligation to stop smoking given that smoking is dangerous to his health. Suppose further that smoking is dangerous to his health. Does it follow that John has a moral obligation to stop smoking? Although intuition inclines one to answer in the affirmative, recent developments in deontic logic apparently call this inference into question. The issue at hand is whether unconditional obligations are detachable from conditional obligations on the basis of purely factual considerations. I believe that they are not. In the course of arguing for this position I defend a novel restricted rule of detachment which is constructed out of both factual and normative components.

Among fundamental, widely shared values, there are two which often come into conflict, creating a serious moral dilemma, viz., the value of individual well-being and the value of individual self-direction. These values issue in two fundamental moral principles, one which prescribes the protection of others from harm (the principle of beneficence), and one which proscribes interfering with a person's right to direct his own life and actions (the principle of liberty). When an individual is doing or choosing something which subjects him to harm or significant risk of harm, the question of paternalistic interference arises.

Since John Stuart Mill's On Liberty, there have been a number of attempts to say when such protective interference with adults is morally acceptable.

Aristotle shares with Plato the attitude that the world, ‘the all,’ is a kosmos, a well-ordered and beautiful whole which, as such, can be rendered intelligible, or understood, by the intellect. One understands things, generally speaking, by tracing them back to their sources, origins or principles (ἀρχαί) and causes or explanatory factors (αἰτίαι), and seeing in what manner they are related to these principles. We know, or understand, a thing when we grasp ‘the why’ or cause. Consequently, understanding is systematic. Some things we understand through themselves - these are the first principles and as such are not understood by tracing them back to causes. (The first causes have no causes.) We understand other things by systematically relating them in appropriate ways to what is known through itself. These other things are known through, or by means of, their causes and principles.

Speaking of Professor Geach's belief that pronouns in natural language function like the bound variables in quantification theory, Gareth Evans, in ‘Pronouns, Quantifiers, and Relative Clauses - I’ (Canadian Journal of Philosophy 7 [1977] 467-536) says (470):

I want to try to show that there are pronouns with quantifier antecedents that function in a quite different way. Such pronouns typically stand in a different grammatical relation to their antecedents, and; in contrast with bound pronouns, must be assigned a reference, so that their most immediate sentential contexts can always be assigned a truth value. The relevant grammatical relation appears to be Klima's relation of ‘in construction with’. When the pronoun is in construction with its antecedent, as in (4) [‘Some man loves his mother’] and (5) [‘No man is happy when he is in love’] the result is a bound pronoun.

At the outset of his instructive and thought-provoking paper, ‘The Nature of Possibility,’ Professor David Armstrong gives a succinct description, in itself almost complete, of his ‘combinatorial theory’ of possibility. He says: ‘Such a view traces the very idea of possibility to the idea of the combinations - allthe combinations which respect certain simple form- of given, actual elements’ (575). We can perhaps start a bit further back than this. In explaining the idea of a ‘possible world,’ some philosophers begin with the idea of ‘things being a certain way’ or ‘the way things are.’ From this idea a leap is made to ‘things might have been a certain other way’ or ‘ways things could have been.’ And here we already have possible worlds, or so some philosophers assure us: David Lewis, for example, says his talk of possible worlds is nothing but a ‘permissible paraphrase’ of this familiar and innocent-sounding locution, ‘ways things could have been.'

In [3] I argued for a particular kind of semantics for subjunctive conditionals. The arguments were based upon some linguistic considerations of the general character of what we mean when we say such and such. I urged that a semantics for subjunctive conditionals ought to provide a distinct representation of the subjunctive mood of a sentence, and should take seriously the fact that subjunctive conditionals admit distinctions of tense. The envisaged semantics took the subjunctive conditional to be about occasions, and the central problem discussed was, accordingly, how to represent what must count as the same occasion in spite of whatever changes were required to make the antecedent of the conditional true.

Not the least among the many puzzling features of the fourth book of Aristotle's Metaphysics is his discussion of the Principle of Non-Contradiction (hereafter ‘PNC’). Even leaving aside the obvious difficulty of determining what his arguments succeed in showing about PNC, we face the more fundamental problem of figuring out what he takes them to show. For he proceeds in such a way as to suggest that he is not always completely clear about what he is up to.

Aristotle seems to be offering arguments in support of PNC. Yet to do so would be to try to demonstrate something he considers indemonstrable, to prove a first principle, to treat an ultimate explanans as also an explanandum – and to try to explain it. These maneuvers fly in the face of the teachings of the Organon, which allow no room for a demonstration, or proof (apodeixis), of PNC.

We can enjoy and suffer many kinds of human goods and evils. The goods (or benefits) include not only experiences and enjoyments but also the having and exercise of various talents and abilities, the receipt of recognitions and rewards, successes, employments, opportunities. The evils (or harms) include not only pains and frustrations but also defects such as ugliness, disabilities such as paralysis or retardation, lack of standard opportunities such as unemployment, financial loss, failure, disgrace. It is tempting to say that wherever a person has a good he has an advantage and when he suffers an evil he is, in that respect, disadvantaged. However this usage can make it look as if all human goods and evils are subject matter for distributive justice. In fact that is not the conventional view.

Robert Nozick has suggested that risky actions are a problem for a moral view based on rights. We ordinarily think that some actions are too dangerous to be permissible, taking into account both the harm risked and the degree of the risk. Other actions, although they run some risk of serious harm, are thought permissible. The problem is to draw this distinction in a principled way by looking to rights.

I think that Nozick's argument about risk can be answered but a different argument has convinced me that the rights view cannot handle risk in a satisfactory way. The inability is a function of the basic nature of the view.

In what follows I will say little if anything about the animadversions vis-à-vis Irwin and Lukasiewicz and Owen, because there is so much of such greater interest in what Code has told us about Aristotle, the great preponderance of which, in my opinion, is true (that is, true about Aristotle). I will review some of this truth, specify one place where I have trouble reconciling his account with the evidence, and then try to give a better account that I think is entirely compatible with the rest of what he has given us.

One reasonably familiar argument for epistemological scepticism maintains that knowledge requires foundations and that we rarely, if ever, have such foundations. The conclusion of this argument is that we rarely, if ever, have knowledge. A second, less ambitious sceptical argument is that philosophers cannot justifiably say that they have knowledge unless their statement is based on foundations and that we never have such foundations. The conclusion of this argument is not that we never have knowledge, but that philosophers are never justified in saying that they have knowledge. The scepticism is Pyrrhonic, rather than Academic, and merely attempts to counter knowledge assertions, not establish that they are false. It tries to show that in most cases the best response we can give to ‘Do we have knowledge?’ is to remain indifferent.

My focus in this essay is on those singular causal explanations which purport to explain the occurrence of some particular event by means of a claim of the following general sort

Examples include sentences like (Ex. 1) The short circuit caused the fire’ and (Ex. 2) The impact of the hammer caused the shattering of the glass,’ Many philosophers hold that there is a sharp distinction to be drawn between singular causal explanations and those sentences (call them singular causal sentences) which simply report causal connections. While singular causal sentences are said to typically relate events, and to be extensional, singular causal explanations are held to relate items which are sentential or fact-like in structure and to be non-extensional.1 Singular causal explanations are held on this view to always be explanations of why events or other objects belong to certain kinds or possess certain properties.

Virtually everyone agrees that there is a strong moral presumption against the use of coercion. There is, however, considerably less agreement about the nature of coercion. For example, each of the following claims has been the subject of considerable controversy: 1. coercion is an essentially normative concept whose ‘conditions of application contain an ineliminable reference to moral rightness or wrongness’; 2. it is possible to coerce someone by means of an especially enticing offer as well as by means of a threat; 3. coercion sometimes consists in nothing more than the direct application of physical force; and 4. exploitation is a form of coercion. In this essay I shall propose and defend an explication of the concept of coercion which will entail the falsity of each of these claims. Such an analysis, although it will naturally start from and be guided by our intuitions about the subject, will not be bound rigidly by them. My primary objective will be to provide a reasonably precise and systematic way of describing a category of human behavior only the paradigm examples of which are clearly circumscribed by ordinary usage.

The Platonic view that every just person is, in virtue of being such, happier than any unjust person, since all among the latter are unhappy, strikes a most responsive chord in the hearts of a great many persons. But it would seem that this idea has less of a foothold in reality than it does in our hearts. It is far too difficult to deny that there are unjust persons who are happy. Indeed, some even seem to be happier than many a just person.

So I shall lower my sights. Rather than attempting to defend as sound the Platonic view, I shall argue that the just person is favored to be happier than a certain kind of unjust person whom I shall simply call a masquerader - this is, an individual who is frequently concerned to masquerade as a deeply caring person.

In this discussion I consider one aesthetic issue which arises from certain intimate relationships between art and nature. The background to these relationships can be traced to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It includes factors of considerable importance in the history of the aesthetic appreciation of nature such as the eighteenth century infatuation with landscape gardening and the continuingly influential role of landscape painting. Here, however, I concentrate on these relationships only as exemplified in a contemporary phenomenon – environmental art. By environmental art I mean both the earthworks and earthmarks of artists such as Robert Smithson, Michael Heizer, and Dennis Oppenheim and certain structures on the land such as those of Robert Morris, Michael Singer, and Christo. Some paradigm cases are Smithson's Spiral Jetty (1970), Heizer's Double Negative (1969-70), Singer's Lily Pond Ritual Series (1975), and Christo's Running Fence (1972-76).