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Ratiocination

Thomas and his Ways


Thomas Aquinas is well-known for his "five ways" in the Summa Theologica. Lesser known are his arguments for the existence of God in Summa Contra Gentiles. I've been working through Norman Kretzmann's The Metaphysics of Theism: Aquinas' Natural Theology in Summa Contra Gentiles I, and he gives these arguments a refreshing and detailed analysis.

In Kretzmann's understanding of SCG I.13.17-32, Thomas uses a (really quite clever) destructive dilemma to undermine the thesis that "every mover is moved" (call this E):

P1. If E, then either contingently-E (per accidens) or necessarily-E (per se).
P2. E is not true contingently.
P3. E is not true necessarily.
C1. Therefore, not-E. (P1, P2, P3, modus tollens)

Thomas then goes on to argue for P2 and P3 in detail. Denying P2 entails the possibility of a world without motion--something an Aristotelian opponent would find untenable. E is thus not true per accidens. And yet, if E is true per se, further difficulties about motion/change at the species/genera level appear. Thus, E is not true per se, or at all.

This isn't a complicated move, but it struck me as a brilliant one. Principles like E are useful in cosmological arguments, though simultaneously difficult to arrive at by deduction or intuition-pumping. The above indirect method allows the philosopher to falsify a principle that gets in his way while bypassing alltogether these associated difficulties.

Nice job, Thomas.

Some more detailed thoughts of mine on Aquinas' natural theology project in SCG can be found in this first draft of a paper I wrote for DeWeese's Aquinas class (due this Tuesday).

Beta


Peter van Inwagen's Consequence Argument is the best argument for incompatibilism this author has ever seen. Here's the basic argument in prose:

"If determinism is true, then our acts are the consequence of laws of nature and events in the remote past. But it's not up to us what went on before we were born, and neither is it up to us what the laws of nature are. Therefore, the consequences of these things (including our present acts) are not up to us."

In An Essay on Free Will, van Inwagen supplies three formalizations of the above argument; I agree with van Inwagen and most commentators that the third ("modal") formulation is the most enlightening. The argument is a reductio against determinism, that, on a meta-level, would like like:

(1) If determinism is true, no human agents are morally responsible
(2) But human agents are morally responsible
(3) Therefore, determinism is false

The majority of van Inwagen's book is spent defending (1), although (2) is given some treatment as well. Instead of giving an in-depth treatment of van Inwagen's modal argument for (1), I want to examine his "Beta" rule of inference. It goes like this:

N(p)
N(p-->q)
-----
N(q)

'N' is a modal sentiential operater; N(p) is to be read as: "P and no one has, or ever had, any choice about whether P." A persuasive example of Beta that van Inwagen seems fond of: I don't have, and never had, any choice about a 30-mile-in-diameter meteor crashing into the earth in 2033. I don't have, and never had, any choice, furthermore, about the conditional that, should a 30-mile-in-diameter meteor crash into the earth, all humans would be exterminated. Therefore, I don't have, and never had, any choice about all humans being exterminated."

Beta is the heart of van Inwagen's argument, as he readily admits. The Consequence Argument might be said to be on one side of a biconditional with Beta: If beta is a valid rule of inference, the argument is iron-clad. Without Beta, or some analog of Beta, it fails.

Is Beta valid, then? Consider several of its analogs, with "L" denoting "It is logically necessary that..."

(Rule L:)

L(p)
L(p-->q)
-----
L(q)

That is, p is logically necessary and p entail q, therefore, q is also logically necessary. This inference is universally regarded as valid. Its form, furthermore, is identical to Beta. However, an invalid inference that is formally identical to Beta and the above can be constructed, with "Kp" denoting "S knows that p"

(Rule K:)

K(p)
K(p-->q)
-----
K(q)

That is, S knows p, and S knows that p entails q, therefore, S knows q. But this *doesn't* seem to be valid, for S doesn't always make the inferences he "has a right" to. Consider an example: S might know that "my wife is a ho", know the conditional that "if my wife is a ho, I'm entitled to divorce her" but fail to draw the conclusion that "I'm entitled to divorce my wife." S could fail to infer this because he is distracted, or perhaps because he's just plain ol' dumb. Either way, the above logical inference is *not* valid.

Which one does Beta resemble more? Formally, the three are identical. Rule K is 'obviously' invalid, and Rule L is 'obviously' valid. An argument by analogy, it seems, could be made for or against Beta. Because the analogy cuts both ways, I don't think it can ultimately serve much purpose.

Wuthering Heights


After reading the text for the first time, Wuthering Heights may very well be one of my favorite works of literature.

Jane Eyre is a magnificent story--but a safer one, I think.

But me, I want a dangerous book, a book in which the author's imagination runs wild. This is precisely what Emily Brontë brings to the table. Her sister has a little of this, to be sure (the more Gothic elements of Jane Eyre), but it's far more restrained.

Brontë's use of imagery to draw the reader in is astounding--every page is replete with engaging metaphors that are both captivating and instructive.

Her mastery of dialogue and language is also notable. Notice how each character has a dialect which matches his character traits (eg: Edgar tends to use softer "mm" "hhh," etc. sounds (very consonant) while Heathcliff's talk is marked with harsher and more disonant sounds). Additionally, Brontë is a master of form--that the book's structure, symbols, images, language, and even geography can withstand detailed analysis so well is testament to this.

What some take to be a vice of the book (its wild, untamed characters)--I see as yet another virtue--an invitation to revel in the wild, untamed imaginations of a passionate soul. If all literature were like this, I would tire tire of it, I think. But it isn't--and I don't.

Being clever with words is not the end-all of writing--there is a place for exemplars of virtue and cautionary depictions of vice. That Wuthering Heights may not neatly fit into either of these categories hardly counts against, it, though. I left the book with an uplifted spirit, a sense of cosmic peace, and a grander vision of what could be done with fiction.

This is what the great books are all about.

Digital


I dump the contents of my digital camera memory card every once in a while. Here's what came out this time):







(My room and a recent trip to NYC.)

The first is the most stylized and intentional in composition and content--it bears the mark of an imagination recently steeped in the Brontë sisters' macabre world of words.

As I reviewed these images, it struck me that the progression towards realism in these pictures illustrates nicely a tension I find in my own mind as I capture a scene on (digital) film.

It's possible to infinitely manipulate a scene, in angle, scope/selectivity, lighting, shutter settings, and, of course, Photoshop. Thanks to these and other tools, the final output is as malleable clay. To what end this bag of tricks is optimally directed at, however, varies. To see one dilemma roughly (and therefore badly), imagine a continuum between "realism" and "imaginationism." To which does an artist owe allegiance?

When creating photographic art, I find myself caught between the horns of this continuum--should I strive to capture the scene "as it is" or as I imagine it (as it might be)?

It depends. =)

Affirmation is a Good Thing.


Paper accepted to conference. Decision made: Goodbye, IHS. Hello, CV padding. =)