Here is a low res preview of the dust-jacket for the Companion – two months to go . . .
Here is a low res preview of the dust-jacket for the Companion – two months to go . . .
Some nice recollections of the great technological innovator.
Here is a forthcoming paper from the VERY excellent Brie Gertler.
Since the work of Burge, Davidson, Kripke, and Putnam in the 1970’s, philosophers of language and mind have engaged in extensive debate over the following question: Do mental content properties—such as thinking that water quenches thirst—supervene on properties intrinsic to the thinker? To answer affirmatively is to endorse internalism (or “individualism”); a negative answer is an expression of externalism. There is no consensus about the correct answer to this question; a 2009 survey indicates that a bare majority of philosophers now characterize themselves as externalists.1 The recent literature on this topic largely focuses on the implications of externalism and internalism. There is no consensus here either. Philosophers are sharply divided as to whether externalism is compatible with privileged access to one’s own thoughts; whether externalism implies that we can achieve knowledge of the external world from the armchair; whether internalism is compatible with physicalism about the mental; and whether internalism implies that thoughts are incommunicable. Disagreements are philosophers’ stock in trade. But the disputes just mentioned have proven exceptionally intractable. The culprit, I think, is an ambiguity in the terms “externalism” and “internalism”, which they inherit from an ambiguity in the notion of “intrinsic to the thinker” operative in these disputes. As employed in the debate over mental content, “externalism” and “internalism” are associated with a shifting set of claims encompassing a heterogeneous array of topics; these include the organism’s contribution to thought contents, links between the individual and her community, the epistemic availability of thoughts, and relations between phenomenal character and intentional content. I will argue that this ambiguity is ineliminable. Any way of explicating “intrinsic to the thinker” will clash with the usual taxonomy of leading externalist and internalist views, or construe these positions as involving claims that are standardly regarded as orthogonal to them—and, in some cases, explicitly rejected by their most prominent exponents.2 The moral is stark. The sense that there is a substantive, defining commitment of externalism or internalism—even one that is vague or underspecified—is illusory. There is no univocal thesis of externalism or internalism. The ambiguity of “externalism” and “internalism” helps to explain why contributors to this literature often seem to be arguing at cross-purposes, disagreeing about the truth and implications of externalism and internalism, and about the nature of the evidence that could resolve these disputes. Now this ambiguity would not be too worrisome if its effects were confined to disputes about mental content. But because the claims associated with externalism and internalism cover a diverse range of topics, philosophers routinely invoke externalism or internalism (or purported implications thereof) in evaluating a range of other questions—in the 2 philosophy of language, epistemology, and the philosophy of mind. These include: Does the meaning of an utterance correspond to elements understood by the speaker? Do thinkers generally enjoy privileged access to their own mental states? Can we know contingent facts about the external world through introspection and a priori reasoning? Does phenomenal character supervene on intentional content, or vice versa? Can content be naturalized? The ambiguity endemic to discussions of externalism and internalism thus threatens progress on a broad spectrum of philosophical questions.
I want to bring your attention to someone I knew some 35 years ago – Marshall Baron. I never forgot Marshall: thanks to his sister Merle, she has done a terrific service to the world by bringing Marshall’s work to a wider audience via the web. Moreover, for us who were so privileged to have come into Marshall’s orbit it is very interesting to note that that the comments on the MB website have a recurring theme: Marshall’s kindness and deep knowledge of things that I now treasure. I now know of the Skowhegan School in Maine which Marshall attended (1966–1968), where I was lucky to visit decades after Marshall was there. Marshall you are alive and well in my mind: funny how things turn out in that I’m the most unlikely host/vehicle for the Marshall Baron memory/meme.
Love NOLA: Ten things you learn from living in New Orleans
By Brett Will Taylor
Good grief. Yesterday marked the two-year anniversary of my move from Boston to New Orleans.
Has it really been two years? Has it only been two years? Forty-eight months in and it’s hard to remember ever living anywhere else. This city gets into your bones, your blood, your soul … erasing all that has come before and taking control of all that will follow.
That’s what love and lovers do, right?
And there’s no doubt that I love New Orleans. I’m also extremely grateful to her. Because, you see, in just two years, she’s taught me quite a lot. About living in New Orleans. About living, period. Love and lovers do that, too. Right?
A trailer from Noel O’Sullivan‘s essay.
The distinctive achievement of Western political thought since the seventeenth century is the ideal of the limited state. Despite extensive theorizing about this ideal, however, there has always been profound disagreement about its precise nature and implications. The full extent of this disagreement has been especially evident during the decades since the Second World War, in the course of which sustained efforts have been made by a variety of thinkers to construct a coherent alternative to totalitarianism. In Friedrich Hayek’s view, for example, the limited state is principally characterized by a free market economy that facilitates human progress. For Karl Popper, it is characterized by commitment to creating an Open Society which rejects absolute truth and asserts the conditionality of all knowledge. In the early writings of John Rawls, the limited state is characterized by commitment to rational principles of distributive justice. For Robert Nozick, it means the minimal state. For Ernest Gellner, it is the political structure appropriate to what he termed “modular man.” For Jürgen Habermas, echoing Rousseau, it refers to a political order based on rational will formation. For Vaclav Havel, what characterizes the limited state is the promotion of spiritual integration instead of the spiritual fragmentation associated with totalitarian regimes. Still other interpretations of the ideal of the limited state are found amongst theorists of globalization and the European Union.
From Portland to NOLA: two of my favourite places.
A Week In The Life Of Zach Zamboni, Anthony Bourdain’s Cinematographer.
Someone has posted Guy Theraulaz’ and Eric Bonabeau’s classic paper from Artificial Life.
This piece from The Economist – cheers!
Another recent paper from the journal Consciousness and Cognition by psychologists at the University of Illinois confirms what many have long suspected: a couple of drinks makes workers more creative. Tipsy employees, they say, find it hard to focus on a task, but this makes them more likely to come up with innovative ideas. This may help to explain the success of Silicon Valley, one of the last workplaces in America where hard and soft drinks still jostle for space in the company fridge.
To mark the 5oth anniversary of Preservation Hall. We are all in profoundly debted to Allan and Sandra Jaffe.