Hannah Kim

Rapid advances in virtual reality technology raise a host of questions about the moral and legal status of virtual actions. This essay offers a foundation for addressing these questions by providing a metaphysics of virtual action. According to the proposed metaphysics, the actions of one’s avatar can literally be one’s own actions. We argue for this conclusion by arguing for the following: (i) in sophisticated forms of virtual reality, one’s avatar can come to constitute a part of one’s self and (ii) the sphere of one’s agency is precisely the sphere of one’s self. Thus, there is a distinctive form of agency made possible by sophisticated virtual realities: *avatarial action*, an action of a real-world agent performed through their avatar in a virtual world. In defending our metaphysics of virtual action, we also illustrate how coming to a clear understanding of the nature of virtual action—and thus a clear understanding of the moral and legal status of virtual actions—requires attending to the nature of self and action and their capacity to be transformed through technological engagement.

We argue that textual large language model (LLM) outputs form an emergent genre, which we call stochascript. Following Ralph Cohen’s “empirical-historical” theory, we treat genres not as fixed sets of traits but as evolving categories shaped by social and technological change. LLM outputs resist placement as fiction, nonfiction, or bullshit: they lack fictive intent, do not always invite make-believe, are not reliably informational, and remain indifferent to truth while optimized to seem helpful. Their convergence on relevance and verisimilitude, and our patterns of interactions with LLM outputs, suggest a new genre is emerging. Naming stochascript as a genre clarifies its functions and cultural significance.

This paper examines the applicability of Callard’s distinction between ambition and aspiration to accounts of moral cultivation in Mengzi and Xunzi. While ambition involves striving to live up to values one already endorses, aspiration involves striving to acquire new values. Mengzi’s model of moral growth—centered on nurturing innate moral tendencies—seems to align with ambition, while Xunzi’s emphasis on effortful transformation through external training seems to map onto aspiration. However, closer textual analysis complicates this picture: Mengzi describes cases of latent or inchoate moral commitment that require aspiration-like discovery, and Xunzi compares coming to value ritual to instantly preferring fine food once tasted, suggesting a kind of sudden, non-aspirational uptake. Together, these thinkers blur the boundary between ambition and aspiration, revealing them not as fixed categories but as overlapping stages or modes within moral development.

Imaginative resistance occurs when audiences struggle to accept certain evaluative or moral claims as fictionally true. This paper argues that existing discussions of imaginative resistance have focused too narrowly on prose fiction. Examining song as a case study, I show that imaginative resistance is often dampened or prevented altogether by features of a medium. Songs routinely present counter-moral or narratively dubious claims without triggering the familiar “wait a minute” response characteristic of imaginative resistance in prose. Three features of the song medium are central: the perspectival and embodied nature of sung lyrics, a musically generated sense of “rightness” that overrides propositional scrutiny, and the greater immediacy and lower interpretive flexibility of musical affect relative to linguistic meaning. These features alter how words contribute to (fictional) representation and evaluation. The result is that song fictions often fail to generate the conditions under which imaginative resistance arises. More broadly, the paper argues that imaginative resistance is not a deep feature of imagination itself but a context-sensitive audience response shaped by genre, salience, and medium, a phenomenon that reflects how particular representational forms invite, structure, or constrain imaginative engagement.

McTaggart, Le Poidevin, and Currie argue that fictional events can only be discussed in tenseless terms. In this paper, I argue this is true only of some fictions, and that fictional events, in principle, can be tensed. The reality assumption, intentionalism, and make‐believe provide mechanisms for generating tensed fictional truths, and fictions beyond paradigmatic examples, such as self‐involving interactive fictions, provide access the fictional timelines, thereby allowing us to attribute A‐properties to fictional events. I argue that our linguistic practice and phenomenology support taking the possibility of a fictional A‐series seriously. I also show that attempts to explain away fictional tense are unsuccessful given constitutive differences between fiction and reality. Acknowledging the possibility of a fictional A‐series provides significant upshots for the nature of fiction, time, and the aesthetics of tense.

We discuss how writing assignments that center students’ personal experience can help to promote inclusive pedagogy and significant learning. These assignments lend themselves to less formal, more colloquial language that allow students to do the hard work of understanding, analyzing, and assessing complex philosophical content without also having to navigate a specialized form of academic writing—a struggle for many first generation and ESL students. Inviting students to make connections between philosophical content and their own lives rewards diversity of experience, which can encourage students from underrepresented backgrounds to see their lived experience as relevant to philosophy and assure them that they belong, and can succeed, in philosophy. Significant learning is promoted for all students by addressing the key learning goals of integration, the human dimension, and caring and by helping build classroom community. We present the prompts, our reflections, and conclude by addressing potential worries.

Considering questions at the intersection of time and fiction deepens our understanding of fiction, introduces new questions for philosophy of time, and brings analytic philosophy in discussion with narratology. Philosophers debate whether fictional time can be tensed, whether fictional time can branch, repeat, pause, rewind, or skip and whether fictional time travel is possible. Much of the way we answer these questions will depend on our overall commitment to the nature of fiction. It’s also unclear what, if anything, we can learn about the metaphysics of time from fiction. This chapter will introduce readers to discussions that are shaping the debates in this domain.

It is intuitive to think that fiction is more imaginative or creative than nonfiction, and that creating or engaging with fiction involves the imagination in ways creating or engaging with nonfiction doesn't. However, philosophers debate whether imagination has a special connection to fiction. This chapter will argue that fiction is intimately connected to creativity and that creativity's connection to imagination produces the impression that fiction and imagination also share an intimate connection. The key ingredient of fiction that connects fiction to creativity is fabrication. The chapter will also discuss how an author can produce fiction that is creative in content and form, how readers and critics use imagination in a creative manner when engaging with works, and how metaphysical debates about fiction affect the kind of creativity we may attribute to authors.

Comic is one of the paradigmatic forms of hybrid media, and coming up with a satisfactory definition for it has been difficult. Sam Cowling and Ley Cray (2022) take a functional approach and offer an Intentional Picture-Reading View which defines comics as something that is “aptly intended to be picture-read.” I show that the view is extensionally inadequate as is because formally ambitious prose and concrete poetry, too, are aptly intended to be picture-read. The way forward, I argue, is to look at more medium-specific non-depictive images (such as speech balloons and panels) to set comics apart from other hybrid media.

Imagination comes with varying degrees of sensory accompaniment. Sometimes imagining is phenomenologically lean (cognitive imagining); at other times, imagining involves or requires sensory presentation such as mental imagery (sensory imagining). Philosophers debate whether contradictions can obtain in fiction and whether cognitive imagining is robust enough to explain our engagement with fiction. In this paper, I defend the Principle of Poetic License by arguing for the Permissive View of fictional truth: we can have fictions in which a contradiction is true, everything is true, or nothing is true. I show that imagination-based worries about impossible, unlimited, and empty fictions can be shown to be about sensory imagination and that sensory imagination isn’t necessary for fictional truth.

Music, alongside ritual, plays an important role in Confucian moral education. Among all the Confucians, Xunzi gives music the most radical ability to transform people, and this is striking given his pessimistic view of human nature. Though he set the standard for Chinese aesthetics for millennia, there is no systematic account that brings together Xunzi’s various commitments: that only music from virtuous previous dynasties are morally conducive, that music can bring about lasting character change, that even those uninterested in moral cultivation can benefit from music, and that the junzi (“gentleman”) and the xiaoren (“petty man”) derive joy in different ways while listening to music. In this article, I explain why currently existing accounts cannot capture all the commitments, and I turn to analytic aesthetics to provide a new Dual-Process Model of Xunzi’s philosophy of music. Jenefer Robinson’s discussions of “the Jazzercise effect” and emotional misattribution will be key in the new account.

In this article, I aim to do two things: first, introduce Juche, the official philosophy of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (“North Korea”), and second, defend Juche against Alzo David-West’s allegation that it is a nonsensical philosophy. I organize David-West’s complaints into two major strands—that Juche’s axiom is too vague to be of philosophical use and that Juche makes too stark a distinction between human vs. everything else—and offer responses to both strands. My goal isn’t to defend the regime, but to present its ideology in the most charitable way so its merits and demerits can be seen more clearly in future engagements.

There is ongoing debate on whether Juche (주체/主體), the North Korean state ideology, is indigenous, Marxist-Leninist, or Confucian—or if it’s a real philosophy at all. In this article, I introduce Juche and show how characteristics that philosophers identify to be unique or pronounced in premodern Korean philosophy can be found in Juche as well. Intellectual adaptation, pragmaticism, and an emphasis on continual improvement are prominent in both premodern Korean thought and Juche. Juche should be understood as a politically inflected outgrowth that is embedded within the larger context of Korean philosophy.

Music, alongside ritual, plays an important role in Confucian moral education. Among all the Confucians, Xunzi gives music the most radical ability to transform people, and this is striking given his pessimistic view of human nature. Though he set the standard for Chinese aesthetics for millennia, there’s no systematic account that brings together Xunzi’s various commitments: that only music from virtuous previous dynasties are morally conducive, that music can bring about lasting character change, that even those uninterested in moral cultivation can benefit from music, and that the junzi (“gentleman”) and the xiaoren (“petty man”) derive joy in different ways while listening to music. In this article, I explain why currently existing accounts can’t capture all the commitments, and I turn to analytic aesthetics to provide a new Dual-Process Model of Xunzi’s philosophy of music. Jenefer Robinson’s discussions of “the Jazzercise effect” and emotional misattribution will be key in the new account.

Philosophy-and-literature as a subfield theorizes about the relationship between the two. Though few would explicitly say that philosophy is the point and literature the means, it’s common to see discussions of literature serving as an expression of philosophical insight and uncommon to see discussions of philosophical ideas put in service of literature. So, the aim of this paper is to explore, and suggest one concrete instance of, a literary work where philosophical concepts are instrumental for literary ends. The metaphysical claims in T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets are not there to make a philosophical point, but to create a new sense of a lyric “now” that produces a time internal to the poem. This is a poetic achievement, and philosophical utterances help to produce the lyric now by foregrounding temporal readerly phenomenology. The example enriches our understanding of the possible relationships between philosophy and literature.

In philosophy of music, formalists argue that pure instrumental music is unable to represent any content without the help of lyrics, titles, or dramatic context. In particular, they deny that music’s use of convention counts as a genuine case of representation because only intrinsic means of representing counts and conventions are extrinsic to the sound structures making up music. In this paper, I argue that convention should count as a way for music to genuinely represent content for two reasons. First, the view that only intrinsic ways of representing counts is too stringent. If use can ground meaning in language, then use might also ground meaning (and representation) in music, too. Second, even if we were to insist on intrinsic features, convention should count as a way for music to genuinely represent because convention is an intrinsic feature of music. Without knowledge of musical systems and encultured listening, music wouldn’t even be recognized as music, so convention is already baked into our listening practices.

A metaphor is an effective way to show how something is to be conceived. In this article, I look at two Neo-Confucian Korean philosophical contexts—the Four-Seven debate and Book of the Imperial Pivot—and suggest that metaphors are philosophically expedient in two further contexts: when both intellect and emotion must be addressed; and when the aim of philosophizing is to produce behavioral change. Because Neo-Confucians had a conception of the mind that closely connected it to the heart (心 xin), metaphor’s empathy-inducing and perspective-giving capacities made it an especially helpful mode of philosophizing in the history of Korean philosophy.

Philosophers ask just whose expression, if anyone’s, we hear in lyric poetry. Walton provides a novel possibility: it’s the reader who “uses” the poem (just as a speech giver uses a speech) who makes the language expressive. But worries arise once we consider poems in particular social or political settings, those which require a strong self-other distinction, or those with expressions that should not be disassociated from the subjects whose experience they draw from. One way to meet this challenge is to consider the poem expressive of a plural subject, which frees us from looking for a particular individual whose voice we hear in the work, whether she be fictional or actual. Some lyrics give voice to a group whose experience is attended to in the work. This may be done through a posited fictional speaker, but the ontology of the speaker is shown to be less important. Attending to a group whose concerns are voiced allows us to explain how poems can manage to address our-worldly concerns even when lacking actual persons whose expressions we encounter in the poems.

In this paper, I highlight the philosophical differences between Camus’s and Sartre’s notions of the absurd. “The absurd” is a technical term for both philosophers, and they mean different things by it. The Camusian absurd is a mismatch between theoretical reasoning and practical reasoning. The Sartrean absurd, in contrast, is our theoretical inability to explain contingency or existence. For Sartre, there is only relative, local absurdity; for Camus, the absurd is universal and absolute. I show how their different understandings of the absurd led to Sartre’s misreading of The Stranger; he misses its main mechanism for generating the feeling of the absurd because he reads the novel through his own conception. In order to draw out their philosophical differences, I will provide a reading of the novel that contrasts with Sartre’s.

It is widely agreed that more is true in a work of fiction than explicitly said. In addition to directly stipulated fictional content (explicit truth), inference and background assumptions give us implicit truths. However, this taxonomy of fictional truths overlooks an important class of fictional truth: those generated by literary formal features. Fictional works generate fictional content by both semantic and formal means, and content arising from formal features such as italics or font size are neither explicit nor implicit: not explicit since formal features don’t say anything; and not implicit since content generated from formal features doesn’t rely on other truths or background assumptions. In addition to showing that our current classification is incomplete, the new class of fictional truths provides four further upshots for definitions of fictional truth, story and work identity conditions, and the relationship between literary interpretation and fictional truth.

In the history of Chinese philosophy, Mozi calls music a “waste of resources,” considering it an aristocratic extravagance that does not benefit the everyday people. In its defense, Confucians highlight music’s moral and metaphysical qualities, arguing that music aids in moral cultivation and that music’s form mimics the structure of reality. The aim of this paper is to show that Korean philosophers provide yet another reason to think music is important. Music, and art in general, was used to express a national identity at a time Korean philosophers were beginning to develop their own aesthetic consciousness in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. A cultural movement called Joseonpoong (조선풍), “Joseon wind”, marked a shift away from Sinocentrism and towards Korea’s own unique value and practices. The new attempt to justify art’s value apart from its relationship to morality or metaphysics set Joseon thinkers apart from their Chinese predecessors. Using art for identity expression allowed the Koreans to reconceive art’s value while Sinocentric cosmological and cultural views were being challenged with the introduction of western knowledge. Art also became a tool for reversing hermeneutic injustice as new artistic practices and standards allowed the Koreans to meaningfully engage with previously neglected aspects of their lived lives