Assume that for any proposition A there is a proposition \(\Box A\) saying that A ought to be the
case. One can imagine an agent – call him Frederic – whose only basic
desire is that whatever ought to be the case is the case. As a result,
he desires any proposition A in proportion to his belief that it ought
to be the case:
\[\begin{equation*}
(1)\qquad V(A) = Cr(\Box A).
\end{equation*}
\]
Let w be a maximally specific proposition. Such a "world" settles all
descriptive and all normative matters. In particular, w entails either
\(\Box w\) or \(\neg \Box w\). Suppose w entails \(\Box w\). Does Frederick desire to live in
such a world? Yes. On the assumption that w is actual, the entire world
is as it ought to be. That's what Frederick wants. So he desires w.
Bare indicative conditionals are bewildering, but they become
surprisingly well-behaved if we add an 'else' clause.
Intuitively, 'if A then B' doesn't make an outright claim about the
world. It says that B is the case if A is the case – but what
if A isn't the case?
An 'else' clause resolves this question. 'If A then B else C' makes
an outright claim. It says that either B or C is the case, depending on
whether A is the case. That is: the world is either an A-world, in which
case it is also a B-world, or it is a ¬A-world, in which case it is a
C-world. For short: (A∧B)∨(¬A∧C).
Frege argued that number concept are, in the first place, second-order predicates. When we talk about numbers as objects, we use a logical device of "nominalization" that introduces object-level representations of higher-level properties. In Grundgesetze, he assumed that every first-order predicate can be nominalized: for every first-order predicate F, there is an associated object – the "extension" of F – such that F and G are associated with the same object iff ∀x(Fx ↔︎ Gx). The number N is then identified with the extension of 'having an extension with N elements'. Unfortunately, the assumption that every predicate has an extension turned out to be inconsistent, so the whole approach collapsed.
In "Quasi-Realism is Fictionalism" ((Lewis 2005)), Lewis seems to
suggest that Blackburn's quasi-realism about moral discourse is a kind
of fictionalism. The suggestion is bizarre. Has Lewis made silly
mistake? (Spoiler: No.)
Let's compare what quasi-realism and fictionalism say about moral
discourse.
Blackburn's quasi-realism (as presented, e.g., in (Blackburn 1984,
ch.6) and (Blackburn 1993)) is a brand of
expressivism. According to Blackburn, moral statements like (1) don't
serve to describe special facts, but to express moral attitudes.
Bruno de Finetti (de Finetti (1970)) suggested that chance is objectified credence. The suggestion is explained and defended in Jeffrey (1983, ch.12), Skyrms (1980 ch.I), Skyrms (1984, ch.3), and Diaconis and Skyrms (2017, ch.7), but I still find it hard to understand. It seems to assume that rational credence functions are symmetrical in a way in which I think they shouldn't be.
The Best-Systems Account of chance promises to explain why beliefs about chance should affect our beliefs about ordinary events, as formalized by the Principal Principle. In this post, I want to discuss a challenge to any such explanation.
First, some background.
For any candidate chance function f, let [f] be the set of worlds of which f is (part of) the best system. According to the Best-Systems Account (BSA), the hypothesis "Ch=f" that f is the true chance function expresses the proposition [f]. In what follows, I'll assume that a world is simply a history of "outcomes", and that the candidate systems can be compressed into a single (possibly parameterized) chance function.
In 2009, at the ANU, Mike Titelbaum organized a small workshop on the Sleeping Beauty problem. I gave a talk in which I argued that the answer to the problem depends on whether we accept genuinely diachronic norms on rational belief: if yes, halfing is the most plausible answer; if no, we get thirding. A successor of this talk is now forthcoming in Noûs. Here's a PDF. In this post, I want to discuss a surprisingly hard question Kenny Easwaran raised in the Q&A after my talk:
How confident should Beauty be on Wednesday that the coin has landed heads?
A strange aspect of the literature on metaethics is that most of it sees morality as a local phenomenon, located in specific acts or events (or people or outcomes). I guess this goes back to G.E. Moore, who asked what it means to call something 'good'.
That's not how I think of morality. The basic moral facts are global. They don't pertain to specific acts or events.
Here, morality contrasts with, say, phenomenal consciousness. Some creatures (in some states) are phenomenally conscious, others are not. Intuitively, this is a basic fact about the relevant creatures. Hence it makes sense to wonder whether one creature is conscious and another isn't, even if we know that they are alike in other respects. With moral properties, this doesn't make sense. If two events are alike descriptively, they must be alike morally.
Some ability statements sound wrong when affirmed but also when denied. Santorio (2024) proposes a new semantics that's built around this observation.
Suppose Ava is a mediocre dart player, and it's her turn. In this context, people often reject (1):
(1)Ava is able to hit the bullseye [on her next throw].
It's obviously possible that Ava gets lucky and hits the bullseye. But ability seems to require more than mere possibility of success. A common idea, which Santorio endorses, is that ability comes with a no-luck condition, something like this:
Propositional attitudes have an attitude type (belief, desire, etc.), and a content. A popular idea in the literature on intentionality is that attitude type is determined by functional role and content in some other way. One can find this view, for example, in Fodor (1987, 17), Dretske (1995, 83), or Loewer (2017, 716). I don't see how it could be correct.