Kant's short essay is a reflection on the contemporary structure of academic studies; he examines this structure in terms of the functions of the State and of the Universities which form part of it. His analysis links the empirical facts with conceptual distinctions, in ways that are familiar from his more general and abstract philosophy. His main aim is to ground a distinction between legitimate and illegitimate ways in which different Faculties of the University may approach intellectual issues that are of common interest to them. I then consider to what extent and how a Kantian analysis might be applied to our contemporary University situation. Despite the societal and intellectual differences between Kant's environment and ours, I argue that significant parallels exist between the two cases and that Kant's proposals and strictures for his own time have application for us today.

This article sets out an account of false emotions and focuses upon the example of false grief. Widespread but short-lived mourning for well known public figures involves false grief on the part of at least some mourners. What is false about such grief is not any straightforward pretence but rather the inappropriate antecendents of the state in question and/or the desires that the relevant state involves. False grief, for example, often involves a desire for the experience itself, and this can be satisfied. By contrast, real grief is utterly without hope. (We cannot have the deceased back again.) However, because false emotions involve some desire, they can be motivating and may lead us to engage in actions and efforts of discernment that can result in the emergence of the real emotion that they mimic. For this reason, they are not always unwelcome.

Lotteries have long been used to resolve competing claims, yet their recent implementation to allocate school places in Brighton and Hove, England led to considerable public outcry. This article argues that, given appropriate selection is impossible when parties have equal claims, a lottery is preferable to an auction because it excludes unjust influences. Three forms of contractualism are discussed and the fairness of lotteries is traced to the fact that they give each person an equal chance, as a surrogate for their equal claim to the good. It is argued that this can be a reason to favour an artificially-constructed lottery to a ‘natural’ lottery where there is suspicion that the latter may be biased.

Peter Geach's distinction between logically predicative and logically attributive adjectives has become part of the technical apparatus of philosophers, but no satisfactory explanation of what an attributive adjective is has yet been provided. Geach's discussion suggests two different ways of understanding the notion. According to one, an adjective is attributive just in case predications of it in combination with a noun fail to behave in inferences like a logical conjunction of predications. According to the other, an adjective is attributive just in case it cannot be applied in a truth-value-yielding fashion unless combined with a noun. The latter way of understanding the notion yields both a more defensible version of Geach's arguments that ‘good’ and ‘bad’ are attributive and a more satisfactory explanation of attributivity.

This paper sets out a number of reasons for thinking that the framework of possible worlds, even when construed non-reductively, does not provide an adequate basis for an explanation of modality. I first consider a non-reductive version of Lewis' modal realism, and then move on to consider the ersatzist approach of Plantinga et al. My main complaint is that the framework of possible worlds gets the semantics and metaphysics of ordinary modal discourse wrong. That is, possible worlds do not give us an adequate answer to the semantic question of what ordinary modal claims mean, nor do they give us an adequate answer to the metaphysical question of what makes such claims true.

This paper looks at two accounts of Aristotle's views on the virtue of megalopsychia. The first, defended by Christopher Cordner, commits Aristotle to two claims about the virtuous person that might seem unpalatable to modern readers. The second account, defended by Roger Crisp, does not commit Aristotle to these claims. Some might count this as an advantage of Crisp's account. However, I argue that Cordner's account, not Crisp's, is actually the better interpretation of Aristotle. Nonetheless, this does not ultimately spell trouble for Aristotle, since, as I argue, the claims that Cordner's account commits Aristotle to are, on closer inspection, not really problematic.

This paper examines the relative voluntariness of three types of virtue: ‘epistemic’ virtues like open-mindedness; ‘motivational’ virtues like courage, and more robustly ‘moral’ virtues like justice. A somewhat novel conception of the voluntariness of belief is offered in terms of the limited, but quite real, voluntariness of certain epistemic virtues.

This paper presents considerations against the linguistic view of a priori knowledge. The paper has two parts. In the first part I argue that problems about the individuation of lexical meanings provide evidence for a moderate indeterminacy, as distinct from the radical indeterminacy of meaning claimed by Quine, and that this undermines the idea of a priori knowledge based on knowledge of synonymies. In the second part of the paper I argue against the idea that a priori knowledge not based on knowledge of synonymies can be explained in terms of implicit definitions.1

In claiming to draw out an inconsistency between Wittgenstein's declarations on method and his actual practice, John Cook argues that Wittgenstein retained a radical distinction between material things (bricks) and immaterial things (spooks). I argue that on the contrary Wittgenstein showed in detail how this dichotomy is to be rejected in favour of a spectrum of more or less ‘minded' beings, at one pole of which are persons as animated bodies. Discussing the grammar of ‘know', Cook claims that Wittgenstein depended on philosophers' distinctions rather than a surview of vernacular uses. I argue that it was the expression/description distinction that Wittgenstein used to make sense of the grammar of ‘know'.

David Pugmire has argued that secularists can genuinely appreciate religious music because of our imaginative powers combined with the ‘Platonic’ nature of the emotions expressed in such music. I argue that Pugmire is wrong on both counts. Religious music is ‘Platonic’ not because it is subject to levels of imagination but because it has a definite object which makes imaginative readings inferior. Moreover, since religious music does have a clear object taken by the believer as real, a gap exists that cannot be bridged by the imagination of the secularist, even imagination of the emotional ‘last instance’.

A recent book of mine defends three distinct varieties of immortality. One of them is an infinitely lengthy afterlife; however, any hopes of it might seem destroyed by something like Brandon Carter's ‘doomsday argument’ against viewing ourselves as extremely early humans. The apparent difficulty might be overcome in two ways. First, if the world is non-deterministic then anything on the lines of the doomsday argument may prove unable to deliver a strongly pessimistic conclusion. Secondly, anything on those lines may break down when an infinite sequence of experiences is in question.

In The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins gives, but runs together, two criticisms of the argument from design. One is evolutionary and scientific; the other is a philosophical infinite regress argument. Disentangling them makes Dawkins' views clearer. The regress relies on the premiss that a designer must be more complex than the thing designed. I offer two comments about theists who might accept the regress, citing God's infinity. These comments defend Dawkins: but only by making him, when using his regress argument, an atheist who knows (if his “complexity” premiss holds) that God cannot exist.

Since critical standards impose restraints, inappropriate standards can over-restrain. Might there then be claims we can only assess satisfactorily with the aid of a less restrictive and detached approach than is current among philosophers of the present day? This article takes up a particular suggestion, put forward by John Cottingham, that this is indeed the case – that there are regions of thought, particularly in regard to religion, which we can only explore with the aid of emotional sensitivity and immersion in practices. I argue that sensitivity and immersion of this kind would be all too apt to lead us astray, and that the promised gains in what is (rather dubiously) called religious understanding would hardly be sufficiently interesting to be worth the risk.

This reply offers a detailed refutation of some of the objections raised in Christopher Coope's extended discussion of The Spiritual Dimension. It explains the ‘non-partisan’ strategy of the book, which Coope systematically misunderstands, and exposes some serious problems with Coope's own preference for a harshly exclusivist form of Christianity. Several issues connected with religious belief are then discussed, including emotional involvement versus detachment in the assessment of religious claims; layers of meaning in religious language; human autonomy and divine authority; the problem of evil; apophatic theology and transcendence; divine action in the world; and the doctrine of the afterlife.