Alan Hajek

The Cable Guy is coming. You have to be home in order for him to install your new cable service, but to your chagrin he cannot tell you exactly when he will come. He will definitely come between 8.a.m. and 4 p.m. tomorrow, but you have no more information than that. I offer to keep you company while you wait. To make things more interesting, we decide now to bet on the Cable Guy’s arrival time. We subdivide the relevant part of the day into two 4-hour long intervals, ‘morning’: (8, 12], and ‘afternoon’: (12, 4). You nominate an interval on which you will bet. If he arrives during your interval, you win and I will pay you $10; otherwise, I win and you will pay me $10. Notice that we stipulate that if he arrives exactly on the stroke of noon, then (8, 12] is the winning interval, since it is closed on the right; but we agree that this event has probability 0 (we have a very precise clock!). At first you think: obviously there is no reason to favour one interval over the other. Your probability distribution of his arrival time is uniform over the 8 a.m. – 4 p.m. period, and thus assigns probability 1/2 to each of the two 4-hour periods at issue. Whichever period you nominate, then, your expected utility is the same. The two choices are equally rational. But then you reason as follows. Suppose that you choose the morning interval. Then there will certainly be a period during which you will regard the other interval as..

“Pascal's Wager” is the name given to an argument due to Blaise Pascal for believing, or for at least taking steps to believe, in God. The name is somewhat misleading, for in a single paragraph of his Pensées, Pascal apparently presents at least three such arguments, each of which might be called a ‘wager’ — it is only the final of these that is traditionally referred to as “Pascal's Wager”. We find in it the extraordinary confluence of several important strands of thought: the justification of theism; probability theory and decision theory, used here for almost the first time in history; pragmatism; voluntarism (the thesis that belief is a matter of the will); and the use of the concept of infinity

Counterfactuals are a species of conditionals. They are propositions or sentences, expressed by or equivalent to subjunctive conditionals of the form 'if it were the case that A, then it would be the case that B', or 'if it had been the case that A, then it would have been the case that B'; A is called the antecedent, and B the consequent. Counterfactual reasoning typically involves the entertaining of hypothetical states of affairs: the antecedent is believed or presumed to be false, or contrary-to-the-fact, but its truth is imagined or supposed. Counterfactual reasoning is thus a form of modal reasoning, kindred to reasoning about necessity or possibility, and in contrast to reasoning about the way things actually are. The philosophical study of conditionals goes back at least as far as the Stoics of ancient Greece, although their systems of logic apparently did not accord the counterfactual any emphasis. The rise in interest in counterfactuals has been a rather recent phenomenon, as it started to become clear to philosophers that counterfactuals are implicated in a host of other important concepts—laws of nature, confirmation, causation, scientific explanation, knowledge, perception, dispositions, free action, etc. The significance of counterfactuals has also become increasingly appreciated in the..

This paper is a response to Paul Bartha’s ‘Making Do Without Expectations’. We provide an assessment of the strengths and limitations of two notable extensions of standard decision theory: relative expectation theory and Paul Bartha’s relative utility theory. These extensions are designed to provide intuitive answers to some well-known problems in decision theory involving gaps in expectations. We argue that both RET and RUT go some way towards providing solutions to the problems in question but neither extension solves all the relevant problems.

The thesis that probabilities of conditionals are conditional probabilities has putatively been refuted many times by so-called ‘triviality results’, although it has also enjoyed a number of resurrections. In this paper I assault it yet again with a new such result. I begin by motivating the thesis and discussing some of the philosophical ramifications of its fluctuating fortunes. I will canvas various reasons, old and new, why the thesis seems plausible, and why we should care about its fate. I will look at some objections to Lewis’s famous triviality results, and thus some reasons for the pursuit of further triviality results. I will generalize Lewis’s results in ways that meet the objections. I will conclude with some reflections on the demise of the thesis—or otherwise

This paper revisits the Pasadena game (Nover and Háyek 2004), a St Petersburg-like game whose expectation is undefined. We discuss serveral respects in which the Pasadena game is even more troublesome for decision theory than the St Petersburg game. Colyvan (2006) argues that the decision problem of whether or not to play the Pasadena game is ‘ill-posed’. He goes on to advocate a ‘pluralism’ regarding decision rules, which embraces dominance reasoning as well as maximizing expected utility. We rebut Colyvan’s argument, offering several considerations in favour of the Pasadena decision problem being well posed. To be sure, current decision theory, which is underpinned by various preference axioms, leaves indeterminate how one should value the Pasadena game. But we suggest that determinacy might be achieved by adding further preference axioms. We conclude by opening the door to a far greater plurality of decision rules. We suggest how the goal of unifying these rules might guide future research.