A thought experiment invites us to examine our intuitive beliefs about the reality of the past, the reality of the future, and our capacity to affect either, and provides a test of our attitudes towards life. Given an inescapable choice and extraordinary power, would it be our duty to destroy the whole of reality, both past and future?

Many highly educated people think religious belief is irrational and unscientific. If you ask a philosopher, however, you'll likely get two answers: most religious belief is rational in some respects and irrational in other respects. In my previous essay (THINK 40) I explained why they think so many religious beliefs are rational. In this essay I explain why they think those same beliefs are irrational.

In the first section of this paper, I discuss a quantum mechanical account, which is endorsed by the MIT physicist, Alan Guth, of the origin of what Guth believes to have been an absolutely first universe. I argue that, though his explanation is unsound, there is no reason to think that it needs to be replaced by a supernaturalist one. In the second section, I argue that though Professor Steven Weinberg's tentative explanation of the apparent fine-tuning of the cosmological constant is unacceptable, we need not accept a supernaturalist account of the coming about of intelligent life.

In ‘Do Souls Exist’, I suggested that, while the non-existence of the soul does threaten free will, the threat it possess is inconsequential. Free will faces so many other hurdles that, if those were overcome, the soul's non-existence would be a non-threat. In this paper, I establish this; and to do so, I define the common libertarian notion of free will, and show how neuroscience, determinism, indeterminism, theological belief, axioms in logic, and even Einstein's theory of relativity each entail that libertarian free will does not exist. I conclude by demonstrating why some philosophers reject alternate (compatibilist) understandings of free will, and so believe that the notion we are free is an illusion.

What makes a morally right action morally right and a morally wrong action morally wrong? For clarity's sake, let us divide the question. First, what makes a particular action the morally right action in some situation, that is, what makes it morally obligatory? Second, what makes a particular action a (but not the) morally right action in some situation, that is, what makes it morally permissible (and optional)? And third, what makes a morally wrong action morally wrong (that is, morally impermissible) in some situation?

Bertrand Russell was, along with G.E. Moore, deserving of accolade as a founder of analytic philosophy, and of its close companion, the linguistic turn. Here I explain how his ‘Theory of Descriptions’ relocates philosophy's concern with appearance and reality as a concern with grammatical surface and logical depth. I then on remark the irony of Russell's unhappiness with views to the effect that an ethical judgment is not, despite linguistic appearances, really something that can be true or false. A further irony lies in Russell's error of assigning metaphysical grandeur to logical truths, an error he could have avoided by more fully appreciating how logically misleading linguistic appearances can be.

Your philosophy consists of your beliefs and your reasons for your beliefs. Beliefs form a garden; we need to learn to weed out the dandelions and water the flowers. The readiness to weed out a previously held belief takes courage and is the sign of a true philosopher. In particular we need to avoid committing the aesthetic fallacy, the mistaken idea that what is true is necessarily pleasant, good, or beautiful.

Susan Wolf famously argued that a saintly life – one totally dedicated to moral concerns – would be ‘a life strangely barren’. It would mean neglecting many activities that make human life worthwhile. But her argument assumes that our moral duties are simply duties to others, that a perfectly moral person would always act selflessly. It may be, however, that we also have duties to ourselves, which include the cultivation of so-called ‘non-moral’ virtues. On this view, morality is pervasive, relating to all features of a human life, and has architectonic status, being capable of shaping all that we do.

In a fable by Lincoln Steffens, he recounts the fate of a man, who, climbing to the top of a mountain, seizes hold of the Truth. Satan, suspecting mischief from this upstart, duly directs his underlings to tail him. When the demon reports with alarm the man's success – that he had indeed seized hold of the Truth – Satan remains unperturbed. ‘Don't worry’, he yawned. ‘I’ll tempt him to institutionalize it.’1

The purpose of this paper is to offer an exploratory critique of the concept of institutionalized truth, as it is postulated within the epistemic traditions of scientism and Roman Catholic theology. Drawing on examples from each of these paradigms, namely, the conclusions of scientism, and the doctrine of papal infallibility, this disquisition argues that immutable truths, as championed by both camps, are in fact, questionable constructs, open to interpretation and criticism.

The work of MacKinnon, Pheterson and others is cited to examine what are commonly described as libertarian arguments for the decriminalization of sex work. Original Marxist lines of analysis are also examined, and it is concluded that the dangers of sex work outweigh the notion that there is no compelling state interest in suppressing it.

Starting from support for James's critique of Clifford's dictum, the article argues for holding beliefs, whether secular or religious, firmly but provisionally, remaining open to fresh experience. This consideration prompts reflection on the debate following the attack on Charlie Hebdo. Alternative beliefs were opposing each other with seemingly equal certainty. The justification for insistence on the right to free speech itself requires scrutiny. The article finishes by noting the baleful effects of the intellectual apartheid which has tended to be practised in the West which presumes that religion and reason have nothing to do with each other.