Roy Sorensen

An ill-informed reading of Adam Ferguson 's epitaph has given me an idea for securing posthumous recognition. Consider philosophers in the year 2201 who read my epitaph: ‘Here lies Roy Sorensen who will be long remembered for his paradoxes’. If these future scholars remember me, then well and good. If they do not remember me, my epitaph will appear to be rendered false by their failure to recall me. Suppose the poignancy of this self-defeat leads my epitaph to be widely repeated. I thereby acquire ignominy as the forgotten philosopher. But wait! Eventually someone will notice that no one can remember that Roy Sorensen is forgotten. For if someone did remember that Roy Sorensen is forgotten, then he would be forgotten—not remembered. After all, memory implies truth. Thus the self-defeating aspect of my epitaph is itself self-defeating! The happy ending is that my epitaph becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy by a curious kind of double-negation

Imagine a child playing in the afternoon sun, suddenly jerking her arm one way then the other, trying to catch her shadow out. The game, the child soon learns, is one that she can never win. Her shadow moves the moment she does. Such childish games father common sense wisdom; when things move, so do their shadows. Or do they? A spinning sphere casts a shadow. But does its shadow also spin? The question takes you by surprise. Surely not? you think. But then again, why not? This is the trope of Sorensen’s work. A seemingly simple phenomenon is probed in just the right way and, without warning, you are unsure what to say.

Ludwig Wittgenstein once exclaimed that the most important philosophical discovery made by G.E. Moore was of the oddity of sentences like 'It is raining but I do not believe it'. This dissertation can be viewed as a partial vindication of Wittgenstein's enthusiasm. ;However, my direct target is the prediction paradox. In the first chapter, the history of the prediction paradox is covered in detail. With the help of some new variations of the prediction paradox, I then argue in Chapter II that the paradox has not yet been solved. Chapter III contains my solution to Moore's problem. My concept of an epistemic blindspot emerges from this chapter and is used to establish new kinds of limits on knowledge in Chapter IV. In the following chapter I argue that the prediction paradox is a symptom of our unfamiliarity with these limits. Thus the prediction paradox is part of a general epistemological problem rather than an isolated logical problem. I try to make this claim more plausible in Chapter VI by applying the lessons learned about these new limits for epistemology to the more traditional philosophical problems associated with predictive determinism. Along the way I show that disagreement amongst ideal thinkers is possible. I use this possibility to argue against emulation theories of moral problem solving, like ideal observer theories, conventionalism, and the Rawlsian appeal to the original position. I conclude the chapter by using epistemic blindspots as counterexamples to predictive determinism and retrodictive determinism. Having shown how pre-decisional blindspots have been illicitly employed to support the thesis that decisions are uncaused in Chapter VI, I argue in Chapter VII that post-decisional blindspots are involved in Newcomb's problem. A solution to this problem is then proposed. In my concluding remarks I provide a general characterization of my approach to the philosophical problems that have concerned me in this dissertation and a brief summation of its results

This chapter presents and motivates the issues surrounding thought experiments by assembling the case against their use. It begins by exploring the more specific charge that thought experiment is just introspection, then concentrates on the charge that it is merely an atavistic appeal to ordinary language. Even if thought experiment is distinct from either of these methods, it strongly resembles them. Hence, details of both introspection and the appeal to ordinary language will be discussed in the hope of illuminating thought experiment at least by analogy. Finally, a more general problem about the informativeness of thought experiment is developed.

In “The Reappearing Act” István Aranyosi postulates a new way of seeing to solve a puzzle posed in “The Disappearing Act;” an object that is exactly shaded can be seen simply by virtue of its contrast with its environment – just like a shadow. This object need not reflect, refract, absorb or block light. To undermine the motive for this heretical innovation, I generalize the puzzle to situations involving inexact shading. Aranyosi cannot extend his solution to these variations because he needs to conserve principles of camouflage. On the bright side, the solution to the puzzle that I propose in my book Seeing Dark Things does extend to these variations.

This chapter examines the hazards and pseudohazards of thought experiment. It attacks most skepticism about thought experiment as arbitrary. It argues that once the standards that are customary for compasses, stethoscopes, and other testing devices are applied, thought experiments measure up. They should be used as part of a diversified portfolio of techniques. Although all these devices are individually susceptible to abuse, fallacy, and error, they provide a network of cross-checks that make for impressive collective reliability.

This chapter lays out a classification scheme for thought experiments. A good scheme consolidates knowledge in a way that minimizes the demand on your memory and expedites the acquisition of new knowledge by raising helpful leading questions. Thought experiments are all reducible to two highly specific forms of paradox — one targeting statements implying necessities, the other targeting statements implying possibilities. By treating a thought experiment as a stylized paradox, the idea that it reveals inconsistencies is matured. The chapter also exposes the structure of our ensuing ambivalence, as well as the structure of resolutions.

The founder of formalism, Eduard Hanslick compared listening to music to looking through a kaleidoscope. Unlike listening to a story, one can understand music without understanding what it is about. This contrast with language suggests a thought experiment that echoes John Searle′s Chinese Room. Instead of featuring a man who reliably manipulates Chinese symbols without knowing what they represent, consider a man who reliably manipulates sounds . Given formalism, the Turing Test should be an appropriate criterion of musical understanding

"Logic and ethics are fundamentally the same, they are not more than duty to oneself"(Otto Weininger). So goes the head quotation of Ray Monk's biography Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius. Monk thereby introduces Wittgenstein's peculiar admiration for the crackpot author of Sex and Character along with Wittgenstein's moralistic dedication to logic. Monk elaborates with anecdotes. For instance, Wittgenstein would pace Bertrand Russell's room mixing logic with selfcriticism. Russell asked Wittgenstein whether he was thinking about logic or his sins. "Both!" barked Wittgenstein.

When Bertrand Russell alerted Gottlob Frege to an inconsistency in his Grundgesetze, Frege relinquished deep commitments. When Edward Evans-Pritchard alerted the Azande to an inconsistency in their beliefs about witchcraft inheritance, they did not revise their beliefs. Nor did they engage in the defensive maneuvers depicted in Plato’s dialogues. Evans-Pritchard characterized their indifference to contradiction as irrational. My historical thesis is that the ensuing anthropological debate mirrors the debate about the sorites paradox. I favor a simple explanation of this parallelism: Evans-Pritchard’s witchcraft inheritance argument is a sorites argument—albeit in a form masked by the different ontologies of the Azande and Evans-Pritchard. Evans-Pritchard failed to recognize his witchcraft inheritance argument as a sorites paradox because he was witchcraft nihilist in a community of witchcraft realists. My general conjecture is that many of the irrationalities that seem distinctive of alien cultures are actually paradoxes that are universal. The irrationality of the aliens is real and profound; it is just not distinctive of those aliens or their cultures. The universality of the irrationality helps to explain Evans-Pritchard’s surprising success at understanding the Azande. Since he shares their core irrationality, Evans-Pritchard could simulate Azande thinking. Although I am attributing an anthropological illusion to Evans-Pritchard, I think it is one that coheres nicely with his compelling account of Azande. I am a conservative follower of Evans-Pritchard, trying to debug his research programme. I endorse all of his central doctrines and I rely on his insights

Roy Sorensen presents a lively original treatment of the ancient problem of vagueness. According to his epistemicist approach, the answer to questions like 'Did Buddha become a fat man in one second?' and 'Is there a tallest short giraffe?' is yes! There may seem to be vagueness in the way the world is divided up, but Sorensen argues that the divisions are in fact sharp - it's just that we often don't know where they are, and so find this hard to believe. Written in Sorensen's unique style, inventive and amusing, Vagueness and Contradiction has some serious things to say about language and logic, about the way the world is and about our understanding of it.

This chapter focuses on the property that excited Kuhn's interest in thought experiments: conflict vagueness. This property often generates inconsistent beliefs but is not itself inconsistency. Although it is absent from most thought experiments, a substantial portion of the most provocative thought experiments do spring from this species of vagueness; for they motivate conceptual reform by touching a nerve of indeterminacy. Hence, study of conflict vagueness reveals the ways thought experiments restructure our conceptual scheme.

An electoral evaluation of a set of expert opinions proceeds by treating the experts as voters. Although this method allows us to formalise our naive views about how to take expert advice, the formalisations are plagued by paradoxes which parallel those found in literature on social aggregation devices. This parallel suggests that our naive views about taking expert advice are in as much need of revision as our naive views about deriving group preferences from individual preferences. * I am indebted to Joseph Hanna for a number of criticisms and corrections to a previous draft.

This article considers question‐begging's opposite fallacy. Instead of relying on my beliefs for my premises when I should be using my adversary's beliefs, I rely on my adversary's beliefs when I should rely on my own. Just as question‐begging emerges from egocentrism, its opposite emerges from other‐centrism. Stepping into the other person's shoes is an effective strategy for understanding him. But you must return to your own shoes when forming your beliefs. Evidence is agent centered. Other‐centric reasoning is most striking when both parties partake simultaneously. We are then treated to the spectacle of each side using the other's premises to establish its conclusion. These remarkable debates arise regularly when there is open disagreement about whether a right‐conferring relationship has ended. Those who contend the relationship is abrogated will be tempted to stand on the rights persistently credited to them by their adversary.