Thoughts on the Principle of Material Causality

Felipe Leon's Argument Against Creation Ex Nihilo

Felipe Leon has recently put forth an argument against traditional theism, based on what he calls the "Principle of Material Causality" (PMC). In essence, this principle states that "All concrete objects that have an originating or sustaining efficient cause have an originating or sustaining material cause, respectively." This principle, Leon notes, is incompatible with traditional theism, as it entails that God could not have created the universe "ex nihilo" (i.e. without a pre-existing material cause).

What is more, Leon argues that PMC is supported by all of the same considerations typically marshalled in support of theism-friendly causal principles (such as the Kalam causal principle). As such, theists who accept those principles ought, on pain of inconsistency, to accept PMC as well. But since PMC entails the falsity of creatio ex nihilo (and therefore, of traditional theism), it follows that theists ought to give up their belief in God. How successful is this argument? Let's take a closer look.

Potential Responses to Leon's Argument

There are, by my lights, at least two potential replies that the theist might offer to Leon's argument. Firstly, it is not entirely clear that PMC has empirical support. Secondly, there are a number of potential symmetry breakers that distinguish, say, the Kalam principle from PMC. Let's examine each of these options in order, beginning with potential empirical counterexamples.

Objection #1: Empirical Counterexamples

Leon states that his PMC "rules out concrete objects that have an originating or sustaining efficient cause, but lack a material cause." Hence, if any examples of such objects can be found, PMC would thereby be falsified.

Do we know of any such objects? Well (my thanks to Alex Pruss for this example), it seems that virtual particles are a plausible candidate: they have an originating efficient cause (i.e. the fundamental physical entities, governed by the laws of nature), but they arguably do not have a material cause. This is because the vacuum fields from which the particles emerge are not diminished in any way, which is plausibly required in cases of material causation.

Why should we think that a reduction of source is required for material causation? Think of Aristotle's example of the statue: we begin with a lump of bronze, which we then draw from in order to make the statue. Supposing that we began with 100kg of bronze, we would not still have 100kg left after making the statue. If we did—that is, if the pile of bronze were completely undiminished—then in what sense can we say that the statue is "made from" the bronze? Remember, it is not enough for the statue to be made of just any bronze; it must be made of that bronze, in order for that bronze to count as its "material cause."

Now, apply this principle to the case of virtual particles: if the vacuum fields from which they emerge are entirely undiminished, then it what sense could we possibly call those fields the "material cause" of the particles? This seems like a plausible counterexample to PMC. At the very least, such a case must count against Leon's claim that PMC enjoys empirical support on par with, say, the Kalam principle.

Objection #2: Symmetry-Breakers

Leon argues that PMC "looks to be on an epistemic par" with a more general theism-friendly principle, which he calls IUC. This principle states that it is "metaphysically impossible for a concrete object to come into existence out of nothing without a cause." However, I think there are a number of important differences between these two principles.

For one thing, IUC arguably follows from a powers theory of modality, in a way that PMC does not. The bare claim to which a powers theorist must be committed is that causal powers set the bounds of modal space. This plausibly means that IUC is a basic commitment of powers-based modal theories, whereas PMC is an additional, optional commitment; after all, many powers theorists (such as Alex Pruss) reject PMC, whereas it is not clear how a powers theorist could reject IUC.

For another thing, there might be an epistemological symmetry breaker here as well. For denying IUC seems like it may well threaten global skepticism, as the concrete constituents of our sense experience (e.g. photons, sound waves, etc.) may have simply emerged uncaused. PMC, on the other hand, does not seem to threaten our knowledge in the same way. Suppose arguendo that our above-discussed example of virtual particles really did serve to falsify PMC. Would we feel that our knowledge of the external world had been somehow impugned? I think not. By contrast, the falsity of IUC would plausibly threaten our knowledge (see Pruss and Koons' paper on skepticism and the PSR).

Conclusion

With all of that said, it seems clear to me that theists have a number of plausible options for denying Leon's PMC. There are also two additional options that I have not considered here: for one thing, it is arguably possible for traditional theism to accommodate PMC; for example, see this paper on Aquinas' doctrine of creation. For another thing, it seems that a theist could simply accept the additional theoretical cost that comes along with denying PMC, even without additional argumentation. Of course, this last route is costly, and therefore, the theist should, it seems to me, prefer the earlier options.

Consciousness and Natural Selection

If one is a physicalist, then presumably one thinks that consciousness emerged as a result of naturalistic evolution. From this, it would seem to follow that consciousness was selected for, i.e. that it provided some kind of adaptive advantage, which lead to conscious organisms out-competing non-conscious ones. (If consciousness is a purely physical process, then it would likely depend on rather complex biological systems, and so it is unlikely to be a spandrel that simply piggy-backed on some other adaptive trait.) 

However, this claim seems to be rather suspicious. After all, it is obvious that non-conscious organisms are perfectly capable of doing all the things required for survival, such as finding food and avoiding predators (e.g. about two-thirds of philosophers do not regard flies as conscious, yet they seem to be doing alright for themselves). At the same time, there are a number of behaviors which are highly detrimental from an evolutionary perspective, and which only conscious beings are capable of. Among these would seem to be: committing suicide, developing a mental illness, having an existential crisis, using contraceptives, adopting antinatalism, and committing oneself to celibacy as part of a religious ordination. 

The upshot, then, is this: there seem to no highly adaptive traits that only conscious beings possess, whereas there are numerous non-adaptive traits which only conscious beings possess. It is thus difficult to see why a naturalistic evolutionary process would have selected for consciousness. And of course, this is completely separate from any concerns one might have about emergence (serious though these worries are). I have no idea whether this is a good argument against naturalistic physicalism, but it is interesting to think about.

J.L. Schellenberg on Science and Monotheism

More people ought to read J.L. Schellenberg's excellent book Monotheism and the Rise of Science (2020), published by Cambridge University Press. In it, Schellenberg notes that there is "considerable support" for the claim that monotheism "contributed to science's early rise" (p. 4). He writes that "Monotheism and science... were not enemies at all but rather friends" (p. 47). He further notes that such a relationship might well reemerge, writing:

When the total story of science’s relationship to monotheism, past, present, and future, is told, even such tensions between science and religion as we see today could well appear somewhat anomalous – as moments of struggle bookended by periods in which cultural forces associated with science supported those allied with monotheism. (p. 47)

All-in-all, Schellenberg's book (as with most entries in the Cambridge Elements series) is well worth a read.

Michael Huemer and the Eternality of the Past

Michael Huemer is an interesting guy. I don't have hard data on this, but I'm fairly confident that he's the only philosopher working today who simultaneously advocates veganism, anarcho-capitalism, agnosticism, and substance dualism. As such, it was not terribly surprising to find that he also believes in reincarnation, having defended the idea in a (very interesting) 2019 paper in Nous. The gist of Huemer's argument is as follows:

If you were to live at most once in the history of the universe, we cannot justify assigning any probability greater than zero, initially, to your living at the present time, given an infinite number of past centuries in which you could have been born instead. The best explanation for your otherwise surprising present existence is that you are repeatable, so that your living at an earlier time would not have prevented you from living now – in which case, your present life also will not prevent you from living any number of future lives.

Now, it occurs to me that this argument could be used, not only to argue for reincarnation, but also to argue against the eternality of the past. Indeed, one might think that it is a somewhat stronger argument for the latter, seeing as most people will find reincarnation extraordinarily counter-intuitive, whereas the idea that the universe had a beginning is vastly less so. This is especially true seeing as many philosophers have a view of personal identity on which reincarnation is metaphysically impossible, whereas almost nobody is committed to any theses requiring the eternality of the past. As such, when confronted with an argument which says that either the past is finite, or reincarnation is actual, it is plausible that most philosophers will opt for the former.

Reading Peter Atkins (and Other Ways to Waste an Afternoon)

A few years back, renowned chemist Peter Atkins wrote a couple of rather silly books, in which he tried to give an account of how the universe could arise from absolutely nothing. The essence of his proposal is that "the incipience of the universe was an event in which absolutely nothing (not even spacetime) turned into a more interesting form of nothing, where opposites became distinguished." He explains as follows:

Take electric charge. There are obviously positive and negative electric charge (for instance, of protons and electrons, respectively), but the total charge of the universe is zero. [...] More contentiously, I think it possible to argue that there is no energy in the universe (with mass being another manifestation of energy, through  E = mc2). Yes, there are positive and negative contributions to the total energy, but I suspect that the total is zero, just like the total charge.

The argument, then, is that there was once a state of absolute nothingness, an "absence of being" (Conjuring the Universe, p. 18), which then "split" or "separated" into opposites (i.e. positive and negative charge, energy, and so on).

By my lights, there are at least four serious problems with this proposal.

Firstly, there seem to be some aspects of the physical universe which cannot, even in principle, be explained on Atkins' model. To take one example, the existence of spacetime itself makes little sense if we view creation as a separation of opposites. After all, we don't have "space and anti-space," or "time and anti-time"; there is just spacetime, existing without an opposite. And there are other explanatory failures here; for instance, with regards to the fundamental physical constants, Atkins admits that "No one yet has a clue about why they have their current, and for us serendipitous, values" (CTU, p. 154). Certainly his own muddled proposal does nothing whatsoever the illuminate the matter.

Secondly, Atkins seems to be misunderstanding the fundamental question here, which is primarily ontological in nature. An illustration will help to make this point: in his book On Being, Atkins argues that if the total energy in the universe (TEU) sums to zero (which he thinks it probably does), then this would mean that "What we see around us is actually nothing" (p. 17). But even if Atkins is correct about the TEU (which is by-no-means certain; see here and here), his metaphysical claim is obviously false. To understand why, think of two particles, one of dark matter, and one of common matter. 

These particles are, Atkins says, manifestations of negative and positive energy, respectively; one is the "cancellation" (his word) of the other. But of course, dark matter and common matter both exist; they both have a positive ontological status, that is to say, being. When you have these two particles side-by-side, you do not suddenly have zero particles; you have two particles, one positive, and one negative. A particle of dark matter and a particle of common matter may well "cancel each other out" in some sense, but surely they do not add up to non-being; rather, we know that dark matter and common matter exist alongside one another, even entering into causal relations via gravitation. And of course, such things as particles, positive or negative, would not have been present in "Nothing." As such, Atkins' account is utterly worthless when it comes to addressing (or even simplifying) the foundational question of how being can emerge from non-being.

Thirdly, Atkins seems to equivocate on the nature of "Nothing." For instance, when he speaks of "Nothing" as having been "split," one is immediately urged to ask whether or not "Nothing" is splitable; that is, whether it has the potential to be split. If so, then it has properties, in which case it is not nothing, but rather a very nebulously-defined something. If, instead, we agree that "Nothing" really is devoid of properties, then we must ask how it can be "split" or "separated." We see this confusion throughout Atkins' books; for instance, in On Being he writes that "Nothing has no properties" (p. 12), while in Conjuring the Universe he states that "Our current something has simply inherited the properties of its parent Nothing" (p. 38).

Fourthly, I suspect Atkins' account may simply be incoherent. For take the central idea of his proposal: that Nothing, the "absence of being" (CTU, p. 18), was somehow "separated" into distinct forms of being. When stripped of its pseudo-scientific veneer, it seems rather obvious that this is just a bad conjuring trick. It is not a serious hypothesis about the origins of the universe; it is a category error, of the sort which loses points on a freshman philosophy paper, being dressed up and sold as science, and deriving its credibility solely from the fact that it is the work of an author who once produced worthwhile textbooks on physical chemistry.

It is always depressing when a formerly productive mind turns its attention to the production of vacuous drivel; even still, perhaps the rest of us can derive some amusement from their folly.

Dore on Rowe on the Cosmological Argument

I recently came across an old paper by Clement Dore, entitled "Rowe on the Cosmological Argument" (1983). In it, Dore objects attempts to uphold Hume's objection to the PSR, by critiquing Rowe's defense of the principle. He writes:

[In] order to support the cosmological argument, PSR must be interpreted this way: "For any infinite set, S, each of whose members can be explained by another member, the question 'Why are there any members of S?.' can (only) be truly answered by referring to a cause which is not itself a member of S." But how much credibility has PSR, thus interpreted? Consider the question, "Why are there any things which are at least as large as a quark?" Rowe's claim that PSR (as presently interpreted) may be plausible appears to commit him to the thesis that the following may be plausible: "If there is a finite number of members of the set of things which are at least as large as a quark (call it S'), then S' is like my philosophy of religion class, in that we do not need to infer an irreducibly distinct cause of its having members. However, if S' has an infinite number of members, then it is subject to a causal explanation which does not reduce to the individual explanations of the individual members, namely, the following one: The individual members of S' exist because there is something smaller than a quark which is their ultimate cause." 

But of course, Dore argues, it is absurd to suppose that there must be something smaller than a quark which is the ultimate cause of the set S'. And since PSR (allegedly) commits one to such a claim, it seems that PSR must be rejected.

I found this line of argument noteworthy, if only because of how absurdly weak it seems. Firstly, because the cosmological argument doesn't require one to assume any infinite set of objects; the argument from contingency (for example) works identically well whether the totality of all contingent things is finite or infinite.

But there's another issue with Dore's line of reasoning. For assuming that S' has infinitely many members, it seems that we may still avoid his claim of absurdity with relative ease. Example: suppose that the universe had a beginning in time, with an initial state and physical laws that were/are metaphysically necessary (this is the view taken by, among others, Graham Oppy). In that case, S' would be explained by the initial state of the universe, in tandem with the laws of nature that necessarily follow from it. This claim hardly seems absurd, and it is hard to believe that it should lead one to abandon PSR.

Alternatively, suppose that the universe has existed for eternity, and that its existence is metaphysically necessary. In that case, we have a number of options. For instance, S' might be metaphysically necessary (e.g. if the universe is necessary and past eternal, and S' includes everything in the universe, it follows that S' is metaphysically necessary). Alternatively, S' might be explained by the laws of nature in tandem with the most fundamental physical entities, and these things might be metaphysically necessary. Or else, if nothing in the physical universe is necessary, then S' would need to be explained by something outside of the universe, in which case the cosmological argument is sound. None of these options seem so absurd as the merit the rejection of PSR.

[Note: Dore might consider the last result (i.e. the cosmological argument being sound) to be absurd; however, this would hardly constitute a genuine reply to that argument. For then Dore would be arguing as follows: "The PSR as required by the cosmological argument is absurd, because if it were true, it would entail the success of the cosmological argument." This might be sufficient grounds for rejecting PSR, but it will certainly not convince anyone who regards the cosmological argument as sound.]

Richard Carrier Doesn't Understand [Insert Concept Here]

Richard Carrier (an atheist blogger suffering from the world's most ironic god complex) thinks he has an argument to the effect that "[if] there was once absolutely nothing... it necessarily follows that there is an infinite multiverse." How does he get there, you might wonder? Well, like this:

[If] nothing exists, then by definition no rules exist limiting what will happen to it; if no rules exist limiting what it will happen to it, it is equally likely it will become one of infinitely many arrays of things (including remaining nothing, which is just one of infinitely many other things no rule exists to prevent happening); if we select at random from the infinitely many arrays of things it can become (including the array that is an empty set, i.e. continuing to be nothing), the probability is infinitesimally near 100% the array chosen at random will be a vast multiverse whose probability of including a universe like ours is infinitesimally near 100%. Because there are infinitely more ways to get one of those at random, than to get, for example, the one single outcome of remaining nothing. There is no way to avoid this. Unless you insert some law, power, rule, or force that would stop it, or change the outcome to something not decided at random. But once you do that, you are no longer talking about nothing. You have added something. Which you have no reason to add. Other than your human desire that it be there. Which is not a compelling argument for it being there.

Now, perhaps it's just me, but I must admit that this passage made me scratch my head. This is because Carrier consistently identifies himself as a "neo-Aristotelian." But as Robert Koons (UT Austin), William Simpson (Cambridge), and Nicholas Teh (Notre Dame) point out, it is a defining feature of neo-Aristotelian metaphysics that "[it] embraces what is commonly called a causal powers ontology, in which both active and passive powers are regarded as fundamental features of particular things in the world that bring about change by some kind of natural necessity" (Neo-Aristotelian Perspectives on Contemporary Science, Routledge, p. 1). But this idea wrecks havoc with Carrier's argument. Allow me to explain.

Metaphysicians agree that "powers and dispositions are properties of things" (The Atlas of Reality: A Comprehensive Guide to Metaphysics, Wiley-Blackwell, p. 106). Furthermore, Aristotelian accounts of modality hold that "a proposition is possible if there is some actually existing thing that has the power to bring about the truth of that proposition" (ibid, p. 348). In other words, a neo-Aristotelian metaphysic is one characterized (in part) by the claim that all possibilities and potentialities are grounded in the properties of actually existing things. More specifically, they are grounded in the powers of concrete objects, here defined as "objects [which] can change other concrete objects, and are able to undergo change themselves" (ibid, p. 321).

But here arises the difficulty. For Carrier wishes to claim that an infinite multiverse can emerge from a "nothing-state," defined as a state of affairs in which "nothing whatever exists except anything whose non-existence is logically impossible." But presumably, this means that the "nothing-state" includes no concrete objects (if it did, one would think it could not qualify as a "nothing-state"). So Carrier is forced into something of a dilemma, with only two possible outcomes:

1. The "nothing-state" does possess causal powers, in which case it has properties, in which case it is not nothing, but rather a concrete object. A very vague and nebulously-defined concrete object, true, but a concrete object nonetheless.
2. The "nothing-state" does not possess causal powers, in which case any self-respecting neo-Aristotelian will simply reject the claim that it could give rise to an infinite multiverse, on the grounds that such a thing is metaphysically impossible (i.e. no concrete objects = no causal powers = no potentialities = no infinite multiverse).

And of course, neither disjunct is favorable to Carrier's argument.

[Incidentally, lest Carrier (or his fans) should feel tempted to deploy his favorite strategy (i.e. accusing all who oppose him of "science illiteracy"), it should be noted that William Simpson "was formerly a researcher at the Weizmann Institute of Science, and holds a doctorate in physics from the University of St. Andrews," while Nicholas Teh "held postdoctoral research fellowships at the Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics, University of Cambridge and the Quantum Group at the Oxford University Comlab." Thus giving both of them infinitely more credibility on scientific matters than Richard Carrier, who has no formal training in physics (or any other scientific field), can rightfully dare to claim. And of course, many other eminent philosophers of science (such as Nancy Cartwright) take a similar neo-Aristotelian view.]

This leaves only one question: how in the hell did Carrier get this so badly wrong? Isn't he a neo-Aristotelian? In fact, upon closer inspection, it seems that Carrier rejects almost everything that characterizes neo-Aristotelian philosophy. For instance, in his "reply" to Edward Feser, he writes that "'essences' don’t exist. And we’ve long known they don’t exist." But this blatantly contradicts mainstream neo-Aristotelianism, which holds that "substances in nature belong to recurring natural kinds, each with its own intelligible nature or essence" (Neo-Aristotelian Perspectives on Contemporary Science, Routledge, p. 2).

So what exactly is going on here? Well, wouldn't you know it, it turns out that Richard Carrier has managed to convince himself that he (and basically only he) understands Aristotle better than the entire philosophical community put together! Case in point:

Most Neo-Aristotelianism today (like much of what Ross Inman is talking about) is crank theistic claptrap. Like Medieval Aristotelianism, it gets practically everything wrong about what Aristotle even thought or taught.

Oh, well that settles it then! Never mind the fact that Ross Inman has a PhD in philosophy from Trinity College Dublin, whereas Carrier has zero formal training in philosophy. Never mind the fact that Inman has published a book with Routledge, not to mention articles and book chapters in the American Philosophical Quarterly, Philosophical Studies, and Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Religion, whereas Carrier has no philosophical CV to speak of (and distorts his publishing credentials to boot). The great and powerful Richard Carrier has spoken, and really, what more proof do you need?

This is all rather silly, of course. Carrier has repeatedly shown himself to be incompetent, first in his own field of ancient history (exhibit A, exhibit B, exbibit C, etc.), then in the use of his favorite hobby-horse, Bayes' theorem (exhibit A, exhibit B, exhibit C, etc.); as such, it's worth asking why anyone would even begin to take him seriously on matters of philosophy, especially when there are so many respectable atheist philosophers of religion out there (such as Graham Oppy, J.L. Schellenberg, Paul Draper, and so on). But I'm afraid that mystery is rather above my paygrade.

Richard Carrier's Argument from Specified Complexity

Noted pseudo-philosopher Richard Carrier has an argument which, he thinks, demonstrates that "we should think the supernatural is impossible." Specifically, he wants to claim that "God's mind appears to be logically impossible." His line of reasoning goes (more-or-less) as follows:

1. (Assume for contradiction) God's mind is simple and immaterial.
2. God's mind must be able to store and process information.
3. Information storage and processing require specified complexity.
4. Such complexity requires some material on which information can be stored and circuitry stamped.
5. God's mind is complex and material (from 2-4).
6. Contradiction (from 1 and 5). 

Unfortunately, Carrier seems to have gotten himself tripped up on the nature of God's knowledge. For he writes:

A god has to know things (store information), and think things (process information). But there is a difference between correct and incorrect information, present and absent information; between conflation and distinction. A god has to be able to distinguish one person’s face, from another; and correctly connect each face, with other information about the corresponding person, like that Joe’s face goes with Joe’s job in sales and wife of eleven years, and Mark’s face goes with Mark’s service in the military and husband of eleven years. That information could be connected up differently—wires crossed, and Joe’s face gets incorrectly linked to Mark’s husband, producing the false information that Joe has a husband, and so on. And notice how many different ways connections can be crossed up: the more information, the more different connections are possible. And most of them (in fact, all but one of them; out of effectively infinitely many) will be false.

However, as the physicist Aron Wall pointed out in response to a near-identical objection (ironically put forward by a couple of conservative Mormons), "This is only an issue if you assume that God's knowledge is, like ours, representational, that is, that it proceeds by means of making something like an image or duplicate of the object known, in some other physical system (in our case, the brain)." But of course, classical theism does not make such an assumption; rather, it has always held that God knows all things via direct awareness, simply by knowing Himself as creator and sustainer of all things (hint: this is part of what CTs mean when we say that God's knowledge, creative act, etc. are really all one thing). Thomas Aquinas provides a useful summary of this concept, when he writes:

Now, it is not repugnant to the simplicity of the divine mind that it understand many things; though it would be repugnant to its simplicity were His understanding to be formed by a plurality of images. [...] Inasmuch as He knows His own essence perfectly, He knows it according to every mode in which it can be known. Now it can be known not only as it is in itself, but as it can be participated in by creatures according to some degree of likeness.  But every creature has its own proper species, according to which it participates in some degree in likeness to the divine essence. So far, therefore, as God knows His essence as capable of such imitation by any creature, He knows it as the particular type and idea of that creature; and in like manner as regards other creatures. So it is clear that God understands many particular types of things and these are many ideas. (ST I.15.2)

The idea that God's knowledge does not consist in stored-up beliefs or mental images may also be found outside of the Thomistic tradition. For example, William Alston (1986), a critic of divine simplicity, was nevertheless a major proponent of the idea that God has no beliefs whatsoever, but rather knows all things via direct awareness. To quote:

A creature in our condition needs inner representations in order to be able to think about absent states of affairs, since the facts are rarely if ever directly present to our consciousness. But since God enjoys the highest form of knowledge He is never in that position, and so He has no need for inner representations that He can ‘carry around with him’ for use when the facts are absent. The facts are never absent from His awareness; thus it would be fatuous to attribute to Him any such mental map. When we have arrived at our destination we can fold the map away.

In a recent paper defending Alston's view, Saeedimehr (2021) discusses two non-propositional accounts of God's knowledge, each of which would seemingly allow us to avoid Carrier's argument. To quote:

Since God is absolutely simple, He (His essence) is identical with his knowledge. Therefore, God’s knowledge is totally simple and hence it is beyond any kind of complexity, including the complexity due to having a propositional structure.

Since Alston finds the principle of Divine simplicity quite problematic, he seeks another basis for the non-propositional position. He argues that as human beings, our propositional knowledge stems from two of our limitations: first we ‘cannot grasp any concrete whole in its full concreteness’, and second ‘we need to isolate separate propositions in order to relate them logically’ and then ‘extend our knowledge inferentially’. But since God is obviously beyond these limitations, His knowledge is not required to be propositional.

It would seem, then, that a non-propositional account of God's knowledge allows us to reject premise (2) of Carrier's argument; namely, that God's mind stores and processes information. God does not store information at all (or to quote Alston, "carry [it] around with Him"); rather, at any one moment He has an infallible intuitive grasp of all facts. Similarly, God does not need to "process information" (or to quote Alston, "isolate separate propositions in order to relate them logically"). We need to do that, because our cognition is fallible and limited; God, on the other hand, is far beyond such things.

One hopes that Carrier himself never gets wind of this post, lest I be subjected to his, uh... scholarly rigor.

A New Paper on Physical Necessity

Alexander Roberts has published an interesting new paper in Mind, which argues for the claim that "those who believe in physical necessity should not harbour any scepticism towards merely metaphysical possibilities." How he reaches this result is quite complex, and I'll leave it to the full paper to provide an explanation; however, "the result requires those who believe in physical necessity to recognize merely metaphysical possibilities which are forbidden by our physical laws." The key line of argument in the paper revolves around the notion of lawless worlds (i.e. worlds in which no laws of nature, whether ours or any others, obtain). Roberts argues that such worlds are accessible from all other possible worlds by a finite chain of physical possibility.

The Feser-Ross Argument for the Immateriality of the Mind

In a lecture given for the Society of Catholic Scientists, Ed Feser lays out his argument for the immateriality of thought in simple, syllogistic form. Since he does not provide the actual syllogism in his (very good) paper on the topic, I thought I would jot it down here for future reference:

1. Nothing material can have an exact or unambiguous conceptual content.
2. Formal thought processes can have an exact or unambiguous conceptual content.
3. Therefore, formal thought processes are not material.

I think this is one of the more interesting arguments for dualism out there today; I wish it received more of the attention so often devoted to (for example) the Zombie argument.