Stephen R. Palmquist

The words "analysis" and "synthesis" are among the most widely used and misused terms in the history of philosophy. They were originally used in geometrical reasoning during the age of Euclid to describe two opposing, but complementary, methods of arguing (roughly equivalent to deduction and induction). Since then philosophers have used them not only in this way, but also to refer to distinctions of various sorts between types of judgment or classes of propositions. To some they are regarded as defining differences of kind, while others regard them as defining differences of degree. Moreover, they have been connected in numerous different ways with other distinctions, such as "a priori vs. a posteriori" or "necessary vs. contingent". Some philosophers have become so frustrated at the ambiguity attached to the various uses of the terms "analytic" and "synthetic" that they have given up all hope of assigning a coherent meaning to this distinction

After sketching the historical development of “emergence” and noting several recent problems relating to “emergent properties”, this essay proposes that properties may be either “emergent” or “mergent” and either “intrinsic” or “extrinsic”. These two distinctions define four basic types of change: stagnation, permanence, flux, and evolution. To illustrate how emergence can operate in a purely logical system, the Geometry of Logic is introduced. This new method of analyzing conceptual systems involves the mapping of logical relations onto geometrical figures, following either an analytic or a synthetic pattern (or both together). Evolution is portrayed as a form of discontinuous change characterized by emergent properties that take on an intrinsic quality with respect to the object(s) or proposition(s) involved. Causal leaps, not continuous development, characterize the evolution of human life in a developing foetus, of a thought out of certain brain states, of a new idea (or insight) out of ordinary thoughts, and of a great person out of a set of historical experiences. The tendency to assume that understanding evolutionary change requires a step-by-step explanation of the historical development that led to the appearance of a certain emergent property is thereby discredited.

       As is appropriate for an introductory text, Douglas Burnham’s book opens with a chapter providing general background information on Kant, a systematic overview of the whole Critical philosophy, a sketch of the basic issues dealt with in the third Critique, and an explanation of the overall structure of Kant’s book. Here and throughout Burnham’s book each section ends with a helpful summary, with diagrams and other convenient “lists†being supplied along the way for added clarity. For the most part, these summaries are reliable. The author’s interpretations, however, occasionally suffer from some rather unfortunate mistakes. For example, when contrasting the categories with the principles (p.14), Burnham cites the principle of non-contradiction as the primary example; yet Kant’s expressed reason for mentioning this “principle†in A150- 3/B189-93 is to contrast it with the principles that function as applications of the categories. Likewise, while Burnham’s catalogue of the four “parts of sensibility†(pp.13-14), composed by grouping imagination (reproductive and productive) together with sensation and pure intuition, makes for an intriguing interpretation, especially as applied to the third Critique, he does not inform his (unknowing) student reader that the position he presents is far from being expressed so unambiguously in Kant’s text.        The main content of Burnham’s book is divided into five chapters that follow a more or less predictable – though sometimes rather idiosyncratic – order. Chapter 1 explains three of the four “moments†of beauty, but does so in a manner that wholly neglects Kant’s own understanding of their architectonic unity. Burnham discusses the second moment (universality) first, the first moment (disinterestedness) second, and the fourth moment (necessity) third! Moreover, he then devotes the entirety of Chapter 2 to a discussion of the third moment (purposiveness)..

Bloom's now famous manifesto for the salvation of American academia ("Back to the classics!") is worthy of serious consideration. His appraisal of current trends, such as the tendency to move away from theoretical traditions and towards practical or technical degrees, is often penetrating. (A good example is his discussion of the MBA degree: the degree itself is unobjectionable; but the value modern society places on it is a reflection of the "values" of modern society -values which have a destructive side to them.)

In a recent study of 1 Corinthians 12:7 11, the Hong Kong Monthly Meeting explored how Quakers might interpret Paul’s presentation of nine “spiritual gifts” (or “manifestations” phanerosis in Greek] of God’s spirit). The nine gifts can be neatly grouped into three categories, using Matthew 7:7 (“Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you”) as a basis: the three “vocal” gifts (the spirit’s manifestation in response to our asking) are tongues, interpretation, and prophecy; the three “visual” gifts (the spirit’s manifestation in response to our seeking) are knowledge, wisdom, and discernment; and the three “victorious” gifts (the spirit’s manifestation in response to our knocking) are faith, miracles, and healing. In a series of three post Meeting discussions, we examined how Quakers might recover some of the meaningfulness of these classical distinctions, which have often been merely cast aside as a result of the overly literal way they are often interpreted in some Christian denominations. During the Meeting for Worship prior to the first discussion, one participant read the whole of Acts 2 as a voice ministry. During the discussion, we came to realize that this chapter, where the gift of speaking in tongues is first mentioned in the Bible, is a profound statement of our need to express the language of love . This is where the church begins. Speaking in tongues has the effect of universalizing God’s Word by opening it up to all cultures and peoples. The gift breaks through the boundaries of human language, making “that of God in each of us” a living reality. Sadly, some Christians use this gift as a divisive tool to isolate and alienate one “special” group of believers (those who “know how to speak in tongues”) from all others. To do this is to miss the point. It is no accident that Peter’s sermon in Acts 2 reminds us that “whoever calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved” (verse 21): asking is the doorway to spiritual understanding. Asking for guidance from God is often difficult because of our pride, and so the gift of a language we do not own or even understand can have the beneficial effect of humbling us..

This is the second in a two part series of articles that attempt to clarify the nature and enduring relevance of Kant's concept of a priori knowledge. (For Part I, see below.) In this article I focus mainly on Saul Kripke's critique of Kant, in Naming and Necessity. I argue that Kripke draws attention to a genuine defect in Kant's epistemological framework, but that he used definitions of certain key terms that were quite different from Kant's definitions. When Kripke's definitions are replaced by Kant's definitions, Kripke's account of the status of naming turns out to be a defense of analytic aposteriority as a significant classification of knowledge that Kant neglected. I also introduce here a new way of understanding such epistemological labels, as defining the perspective adopted by the knowing subject in a given situation, rather than an objective characteristic of certain propositions as such.

When I was a teenager growing up in the U.S.A., there was a popular little book entitled How To Be A Christian With­out Being Religious . It defined Christianity in terms of a living relationship of faith, arguing that Christians need not adopt any specific thoughts or actions that could be called "religious". Although the book deeply influ­enced me at the time, I have since come to see that it has some serious flaws. While it is true that Christianity is, or at least ought to be, pri­marily a living, personal relationship with the God Man, Jesus Christ, this does not negate the importance of "being religious", but rather heightens its value and significance