If I am understanding it, some philosophers don't beleive in moral facts because such facts would have to motivate all people who KNOW about them regardless of what those people WANT (or something like that). My question is if it will make a big difference if those philosophers are right, and we give up talking about moral facts, but talk instead about, say, almost-moral facts (with words like "almost-wrong" and "almost-right"), which are almost identical to moral facts except in that they do not motivate people who just know about them? Let me put it another way: some philosophers say that nothing is wrong, because something being wrong would have to be, by itself, a motive for people not to do it, and this is impossible. But can't we just say: ok, nothing is wrong, but some things are almost-wrong, and "almost-wrong" is close to be a synonym of "wrong", except that something being almost-wrong, by itself, doesn't give anybody a motive to avoid it?

My co-panelists who specialize in such matters may have more insight than I, but I would have thought the reply would be this: the idea that something could really be right and yet its rightness should provide no motive for doing it is incoherent. "Rightness," so the argument would go, is conceptually connected to motivation. If that's correct (I'm not offering a view on that, by the way), then there doesn't seem to be any room for the idea of "almost right" as you explicate it. There's no obvious way to distinguish the "almost right" from the "almost wrong." (Is murder "almost wrong" even though not wrong? What does that mean if the almost-wrongness doesn't provide a motive for avoiding it?) And so to assess your proposal, we'd need to know quite a bit more what sort of facts "almost-rightness" and "almost-wrongness" are meant to be.

Theists often claim that the "fine-tuning" of the universe indicates that it was created especially for man by a divine benevolence. Doesn't the fact that the earth will eventually be incapable of supporting any life (when the sun eventually runs out of energy) disprove this hypothesis? And what of the fact that the entire universe it seems will one day be incapable of supporting intelligent life (the big-freeze)?

It's an interesting question, but for many theists it's not obviously a problem. Think about the traditional Christian idea of the Day of Judgment, for instance. If that's set for some finite time in the future, the fact that the universe might wind down sometime thereafter isn't an issue; by then the material world will already have served its purpose. Whether one finds such a plausible is another discussion, of course. But on the narrower question of whether the Big Freeze freezes out the Fine Tuning Argument, the answer is that it depends on the associated eschatology, and for many such, the answer is no.

Do imaginary numbers exist?

Although the name "imaginary numbers" may suggest some special issue about existence, I think the general view would be that the existence of so-called imaginary numbers is no more and no less problematic than the existence of more familiar numbers, including zero, negative numbers and irrational numbers, all of which were considered puzzling or problematic when they first entered mathematics. Numbers, if such there be, are abstract objects of a certain sort. Whether there really such things as abstract objects at all is something that philosophers have long argued about. A bit too crudely, Platonist say yes, and nominalists say no. So if there aren't any abstract objects, then i5, for example, doesn't exist, but then neither does 5. If there are abstract objects then there's no clear reason to worry about whether 5 exists. And since the extension of the real number system to the complex number system is mathematically straightforward, there would be no clear reason to let 5 in but keep i5 out.

My question is about quantum theory and the afterlife. In the many worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, even if I die in *this* branch of the multiverse then "I" will still exist in some parallel universes. If we subscribe to the theistic position that every individual has a soul, then what happens to my soul upon death? Will it go the afterlife? What about the parallel "me's"; do they each have their own soul? I'm confused.

The obvious response is that there isn't a single response, and for a simple reason: quantum theory doesn't have anything to say (or not obviously, anyway) about souls -- at least not if a soul is some non-material thing that doesn't fit into the equations we use to do physics. There is a view that's rather like many worlds and that allows for something soul-like. It's called the Many Minds interpretation, and you can read a short account of it (and get further references) by following this link: http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/qm-everett/#6 However, this won't address your worries about the afterlife. And since this is a topic that physics has even less to say about than it says about souls, it's even clearer that there's no good answer. That said, a handful of extra thoughts. The first is that IF there is a non-physical soul (a very big "if), then we can start by asking what happens to it after death on our usual non-quantum picture. And then we could say that whatever the story...

Much of the psychiatric literature refers to psychopathy as a "mental disorder". However, can't it be considered a natural part of the spectrum of human psychological characteristics? It has after all, evolved for a reason; traits such as a lack of: guilt, remorse, empathy and the ability to be superficially charming are beneficial in many areas such as politics and the corporate business world. So which is it; "mental disorder", or "natural evolutionary adaptation"?

I guess it's partly a matter of what we mean. We could decide that if there's an adaptive explanation for some trait, we won't call it a disorder. That said, the fact that there could be an adaptive explanation for a trait doesn't mean that there is and in particular, the fact that there could be an adaptive explanation for psychopathy doesn't mean there is, and we may well never know All that said, perhaps the real point here is that what we count as a "disorder" isn't just a matter of whether it makes the person who has it more likely to survive or reproduce. We might be able to make the case that on average, psychopathy doesn't contribute to reproductive fitness or other related matters. But even if it turned out that it actually does, we would most likely still classify psychopathy as a disorder. All of which tends to confirm the suspicion that diagnoses sometimes (often? always?) rest partly on value judgments. That raises some red flags, as the case of homosexuality...

The issue of immortality is a tricky one, ethically speaking, since death has a stabilizing effect on our population and for everyone to be immortal would result in overcrowding and shortages far faster than would happen otherwise. However, if one were to look past the simple economics of immortality (say immortality is only possible for those who have no children, and that it implies permanent sterility), are there any other ethical problems related to it? What other ethical issues would crop up if we were to gain the ability to halt the aging process?

It's a lovely question. Let me start by recommending a couple of things to read. One is Bernard Williams' classic paper "The Makropoulos Case: Reflections on the Tedium of Immortality" (in his book Moral Luck .) Another is Larry Temkin's paper "Is Living Longer Living Better?" (in Journal of Applied Philosophy , 2008.) One of the interesting things about Temkin's paper is that he believes the question isn't merely idle. He believes there is at least a serious chance that we might learn to halt the aging process. Be that as it may, let me raise one issue among the various possible ones. It may seem that living forever would be an unmitigated good. But Williams argues forcefully that this isn't so. His argument has two parts, but I want to note just one of them: if we lived more or less as we find ourselves now, then eventually life would become unutterably boring. The title of his essay is taken from a play in which a woman (Elena Makropoulos) has been given a potion that lets her live...

If you look at the leaves of a tree, they are seemingly randomly arranged. We call it chaos. If you take 100 pennies and arrange them on a flat surface in rows and columns of 10 it's called order. We assign the label chaos to something that occurs naturally and has done so for billions of years. Wouldn't that occurrence be considered order if it had been there a long, long time and the human species and our perceptions are very new in comparison?

I'm not sure that whether something occurs "naturally" nor whether it's been thus for a long time is the issue here. Nature gives us many examples of things that are very orderly and not "chaotic" or "random" at all. Crystal structure is an obvious example. So is the periodic table. And things with human origins can display a lot of randomness. Spin a roulette wheel a bunch of times and try to predict the outcomes. A bit too simply, there are cases -- old and new, natural and human-made -- where we can make very accurate predictions about what comes next, so to speak, on the basis of what's come before. And there are other cases where our predictions will be (so to speak) no better than tossing a coin. I think that's what lies behind the distinction you're making, and there are branches of science and mathematics that have lots to say about the matter. (One particularly relevant field is information theory.) Of course, there can be hidden order where there is apparent chaos, and there can be...

Sometimes my students want to argue that "my opinion is as good as anyone else's opinion." How do I counter this view with a reasonable philosophical argument? Thanks! Richard in New York

Ah yes. We've all been there. It may be worth helping the students see that if they extend this to all opinions, then they've put themselves in a position of telling us that we have no reason to take their own opinions seriously. In particular, if they're right all that all opinions are equally good, then your opinion that opinions aren't all equally good is just as good as theirs. This is a bullet that most thoughtful people could only pretend to bite . Of course, when people say what your students say, they often have something a little less paradoxical in mind. They may mean that when it comes to certain kinds of questions -- the Olde Chestnuts of philosophy, perhaps, or difficult moral questions -- the fact that consensus is well nigh impossible to come by suggests that one belief on the matter is as good or bad as another. A really good answer to this worry would take up rather more space than this forum allows. But a few things seem to the point. The first is that some arguments are...

I was hoping that you could resolve a dilemma that I have recently discovered. It has to do with the art of philosophy and not with the subsequent ideas generated by philosophizing. Before I state the dilemma, I want to ask: Does determination of nature precede determination of action? In other words, can we practice philosophy without necessarily defining the terms and the nature of the act we which to practice? It seems that we ought to first ask: What is philosophy and how ought we practice philosophy? The problem arises when we attempt to answer the two questions specified above. How exactly do we answer these questions without philosophizing? The very act of contemplating the nature of philosophy requires philosophy; this is logically inconsistent. We cannot study the existence of X by presupposing that X is true to begin with. This is the dilemma; it is a dilemma of definition and how an approach to philosophy must first be preceded by a method of thought detached from philosophy. What is this...

One thing is clear: people actually do practice philosophy. (Some of my best friends...) And so whatever the reasoning you've offered shows, it can't show that no one can do philosophy because people clearly do do it. But then, most of us can't say what most of our activities amount to in any depth or detail. We just do them. It's a logical oddity that asking what counts as philosophy counts as asking a philosophical question. That's a bit unusual, but it's not inconsistent. Of course, read in another way, asking what counts as philosophy doesn't even have this peculiar character. If someone asked me what philosophy is, I might give them a collection of examples, hoping that they got the idea. I might say "trying to figure out if there is such a thing as free will counts. So does asking what knowledge is. So does thinking about the nature of right and wrong." That doesn't exhaust the field, but it's accurate as far as it goes and (experience tells me) often helpful to the person asking the question...

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