Philosophy is now in its 77th year. It likes to think of itself as still sprightly in approach and open-minded in content. Nevertheless it has a burden of history and of expectation, and it has an academic level to maintain. Even though it strives, as always and unlike some of its contemporaries, to be written for the most part in a language recognizable as English and to address topics of genuine human interest, its reputation defends on its being recognized as a leading journal of philosophy in the academic world.

So it is a pleasure to welcome, in April 2002, a sister periodical, called simply Think. Like Philosophy, Think will be published under the auspices of the Royal Institute of Philosophy. It will do some of the educational things the Royal Institute of Philosophy was originally set up to do, but cannot be done in an academic journal such as Philosophy. Think will consist, for the most part, of short articles of genuine philosophy, but they will be articles accessible to any who are prepared simply to think. In particular, Think will aim to interest young people, including the increasing numbers who now take philosophy as part of the school curriculum, but who may have little or no knowledge of academic philosophy.

Think is not a magazine. Its pages will not contain philosophical gossip or anecdote. These are not unworthy activities, even in a philosophical context, but there are other places for them. Even where imaginative in presentation, and even though they need not have the originality and depth expected in an academic journal, the articles in Think will be recognizably philosophical in tone and ambition. Think's articles will aim, simply, to make their readers think philosophically, in the best possible way, and to think about topics which are recognizably philosophical.

Not that Think will eschew controversy. Its authors will, from time to time, defend controversial positions, and will provoke equally controversially replies. And if at times the opinions expressed in Think have a younger or more radical feel to them than those characteristically expressed in its older and more venerable relation, that is as it should be, and all a proper part of the role of the Royal Institute of Philosophy.

The concept of consciousness has been the source of much confusion over the past two decades. Current orthodoxy in ‘consciousness studies’ has it that the key to understanding the concept of consciousness is to grasp the idea of qualia. But the appearance of mystery here is the product of conceptual confusion. There is nothing to ‘the qualitative character of experience’ beyond the individual character of a specific experience and how the subject felt in undergoing it, and here there are no mysteries beyond empirical ignorance and conceptual mystification.

It is argued that there is much to be said for a fairly standard interpretation of the thesis that colour, unlike shape, is a subjective or phenomenal property of objects. But if this fairly standard thesis fails to do justice to the ‘objective’ aspect of colour, and justice in this regard is called for, then it is argued we can settle for less; we can settle for the strategy of ‘dividing the spoils’ between subjective and objective accounts. But it is also argued that if we do settle for this, we need to realise that the same ‘egalitarian’ division cannot be made in application to the primary properties. And that it is argued is the insight at the heart of the traditional account.

Dummett in his recent paper in Philosophy replies in the negative to the question, “Is time a continuum of instants?” But Dummett seems to think that this negative reply entails giving an alternative theoretical account; he nowhere canvasses the possibility that there is something amiss with the question. In other words, Dummett thinks that he still has to reply to the question, “What (then) is time?”

I offer no answer whatsover to such ‘questions’. Rather, I ask what it could possibly mean to say that time is (e.g.) a continuum of instants (and by extension, whether it can mean anything at all to assert that it isn't).

In the course of doing so, I suggest that Dummett's ‘Anti-Realism’ is invariably a form of Realism, just a subtly inconsistent form. Anti-Realism keeps the fundamental metaphysical picture of Realism intact. Anti-Realism still thinks that there is a Reality...settling whether Realism or Anti-Realism is correct! ‘Anti-Realism’ is never anti-Realist enough.

The paper outlines and explores a possible strategy for defending both the action/omission distinction (AOD) and the principle of double effect (PDE). The strategy is to argue that there are degrees of actionhood, and that we are in general less responsible for what has a lower degree of actionhood, because of that lower degree. Moreover, what we omit generally has a lower degree of actionhood than what we actively do, and what we do under known-but-not-intended descriptions generally has a lower degree of actionhood than what we do under known-and-intended descriptions. Therefore, we are in general less responsible for what we omit than for what we do—which is just what AOD says. And we are in general less responsible for what we do under known-but-not-intended descriptions than for what we do under known-and-intended descriptions—which is just what PDE says.

Early analytic philosophers like Carnap, Wittgenstein and Ryle regarded ontology as a branch of metaphysics that is either trivial or meaningless. But at present it is generally assumed that philosophy can make substantial discoveries about what kinds of things exist and about the essence of these kinds. My paper challenges this ontological turn. The currently predominant conceptions of the subject, at any rate, do not license the idea that ontology can provide distinctively philosophical insights into the constituents of reality. I distinguish four main sources of analytic ontology—Strawson's descriptive metaphysics, Kripke's realist semantics, the Austro-Australian truth-maker principle, Quine's naturalistic conception of ontology—and indicate briefly why the first three do not rehabilitate ontology. In the remainder, I concentrate on the most influential and promising position. Quinean ontology seeks to bring out and reduce the ontological commitments of our best scientific theories through logical paraphrase. Against this programme, I argue that Quine's conception of ontological commitment is inadequate, and that his logical paraphrase cannot contribute to the exploration of reality, but at most to the clarification of our conceptual framework.

Philosophical romanticism is the view that, in maintaining out forms of life, we are engaged in the endless task of “acknowledging the human” in reading and being read by others. Winch's discussions of “human nature” and the principle of universalizability in ethics should discourage us from imputing such romanticism to his work. On the other hand, his discussions of generality in “the human” and the human neighbourhood might tempt one to do so. Winch's contemplative conception of philosophy should, in the end, count against this temptation. His work is a passionate example of doing conceptual justice to different readings of “the human”.

Robert Casati and Achille C. Varzi, argue that time machines would be useless or have no practical applications on the grounds that travelling to the past would involve doing what has already been done. I argue that the sense in which travelling to the past involves doing what has already been done fails to support the claim that time machines would have no practical applications.