Bob's favourite piano piece is Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Alice would like to play Bob's favourite piece, and she can play the Moonlight Sonata, but she doesn't know that it is Bob favourite piece, nor can she find out that it is. Can Alice play Bob's favourite piano piece?
In decision theory, the available options are often glossed informally as the acts the agent can perform, or the propositions she can make true. But this yields implausible results in cases where an agent has doubts about what she can do.
It is tempting to think that there is nothing more to physical quantities than their nomic role: that to have a certain mass just is to behave in such-and-such a way under such-and-such conditions.
In chapter 8 of Doing Good Better, William MacAskill argues that we should not make a great effort to reduce our carbon emissions, to buy Fairtrade coffee, or to boycott sweatshops. The reason is that these actions have at best a small impact on improving other people's lives and so the cost and effort is better spent elsewhere.
You observe a process that generates two kinds of outcomes, 'heads' and 'tails'. The outcomes appear in seemingly random order, with roughly the same amount of heads as tails. These observations support a probabilistic model of the process, according to which the probability of heads and of tails on each trial is 1/2, independently of the other outcomes.
In my recent post on Interventionist Decision Theory, I suggested that causal interventionists should follow Stern and move from a Jeffrey-type definition of expected utility to a Savage-Lewis-Skyrms type definition. In that case, I also suggested that they could avoid various problems arising from the concept of an intervention by construing the agent's actions as ordinary events. In conversation, Reuben Stern convinced me that things are not so easy.
The two-dimensionalist account of a posteriori (metaphysical) necessity can be motivated by two observations.
First, all good examples of a posteriori necessities follow a priori from non-modal truths. For example, as Kripke pointed out, that his table could not have been made of ice follows a priori from the contingent, non-modal truth that the table is made of wood. Simply taking metaphysical modality as a primitive kind of modality would make a mystery of this fact.
Imagine you and I are walking down a long path. You are ahead, but we can communicate on the phone. If you say, "there are strawberries here" and I trust you, I should not come to believe that there are strawberries where I am, but that there are strawberries wherever you are. If I also know that you are 2 km ahead, I should come to believe that there are strawberries 2 km down the path. But what's the general rule for deferring to somebody with self-locating beliefs?
I used to agree with Lewis that classical mereology, including mereological universalism, is "perfectly understood, unproblematic, and certain". But then I fell into a dogmatic slumber in which it seemed to me that the debate over mereology is somehow non-substantive: that there is no fact of the matter. I was recently awakened from this slumber by a footnote in Ralf Busse's forthcoming article "The Adequacy of Resemblance Nominalism" (you should read the whole thing: it's terrific). So now I once again think that Lewis was right. Let me describe the slumber and the awakening.
Causal models are a useful tool for reasoning about causal relations. Meek and Glymour 1994 suggested that they also provide new resources to formulate causal decision theory. The suggestion has been endorsed by Pearl 2009, Hitchcock 2016, and others. I will discuss three problems with this proposal and suggest that fixing them leads us back to more or less the decision theory of Lewis 1981 and Skyrms 1982.
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