Marc Champagne

The issue of whether to grant legal and moral rights to artificial intelligence and robots is poised to become politically significant, as evidenced by recent legislation regarding “electronic persons” and prominent academics who frame the denial of such rights as analogous to past forms of discrimination. Moving away from the usual concern with AI and economic planning, this chapter explores how the blurring line between humans and machines enables new forms of attachment, manipulation, and social influence. These developments challenge classical liberal principles such as autonomy, rule of law, and limited government. A tension arises between judging entities by their physical nature versus their perceived characteristics. Evolved emotional responses favor the latter, potentially leading to widespread acceptance of robot rights regardless of metaphysical realities. This propensity, combined with social justice movements, risk destabilizing a longstanding political consensus. The chapter concludes by suggesting that classical liberalism presently lacks the conceptual resources to address these challenges.

James Lindsay, who researches the roots of social justice zealousness, observed that, “[s]o far as I know, there’s not some specific piece of scholarship that closes the Woke off to debate, like a single paper or book explaining why they don’t do it” (2020). We now have that paper. It is titled “Pragmatism as a Mediator–Seeking an Illusory Harmony?” (2023) and was written by the Finnish scholar Sami Pihlström. In this short article, I examine Pihlström's stance and show why it is epistemically, ethically, and politically disastrous.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, one of the central figures of New Atheism, recently surprised many by switching to Christianity. The reasoning prompting her change is not theological but civilizational. As a defender of individualism and free speech, she now claims that safeguarding those values requires adhering to the Judeo-Christian tradition that spawned them. Although I find many elements of Hirsi Ali’s current position sensible, I argue that her justification of religion rests on an overblown inference, since we can and should harness the best parts of the Judeo-Christian tradition while leaving out the worst. Conservative thinkers may deem such alterations incautious, but the truth is that most people already adhere selectively to the Bible’s ideas. What remains, in my estimate, is to come to terms with this in our official self-conceptions.

While most discussions of generative AI center on issues such as algorithmic bias and disinformation, we should also consider the quantitative sea change brought about by these technologies. Large language models or LLMs can generate contents at a rate uncoupled from the human datasets they were trained on. Forecasts about such artificial outputs are difficult to make, but it seems clear that the word count and image/video bank of the internet will grow far beyond what humans actually produce. Although this growth may seem benign, I worry that it results in a semiotic inflation capable of devaluing many human experiences. What connects quantitative and normative considerations is scarcity. The basic idea is simple: When you discover a diamond, you become rich. When you discover two diamonds, you become twice as rich. However, when you discover a stash of diamonds so large that diamonds outnumber gravel, you become poor—and instantly make every diamond owner poorer too. Similarly, AI’s vast output risks devaluing experiences that are vital to human flourishing. Adopting a wide evolutionary vantage that gives weight to proven cultural adaptations, I suggest that some situations have natural sign-to-object ratios. Hence, when users are flooded with too many signs, they can go against their long-term interests. Critics of AI typically cling to features that computers allegedly cannot mimic. Semiotic inflation, however, lets us grant the possibility of perfect AI counterfeits while still detecting them en masse, via their negative experiential effects. Hardcoded features like Bitcoin’s 21 million token ceiling show that “[i]n contrast to the linguistic sign, the money sign cannot be reproduced in arbitrary quantity” (Bankov 2023: 117). Prompted by the rise of generative AI, I surmise that non-monetary signs also cannot be reproduced in arbitrary quantity. I thus draw parallels between healthy semiotic systems and the constraints governing viable monetary systems.

After his airplane was shot down over North Vietnam, Admiral James Stockdale underwent seven years of isolation and torture. Stockdale, however, was trained as much in Western philosophy as military strategy. Once freed, Stockdale explained that he survived and kept his sanity because he gave up on the idea of ever being rescued. He instead accepted his conditions as the new normal. As Stockdale saw it, he was essentially testing Epictetus‘s Stoic doctrines in a laboratory of human behavior, which is the subtitle of his book. Yet, look up Stockdale online and you‘ll find that almost everyone now denatures what he had to say. Stockdale explicitly says that he thrived by letting go of hope. Few people, however, are prepared to hear/accept this. They instead hold that he thrived by never letting go of hope. This certainly sounds good. However, what if one of the brutal facts requiring confrontation is that you won’t prevail in the end, regardless of what you do? This is the possibility I want to explore.

Those who dissent from mainstream lockdown and vaccination policies think that Desmet‘s work proves why they are right and the majority is wrong. It might. However, his work might seem correct precisely because it confirms in a more elaborate way what dissenters have already decided. Consider, for example, this actual complaint: "I‘m sure I‘m not alone in my futile attempts to spread logic and common sense to person after person without ears to hear. There is simply no changing people‘s minds with new statistics or information. What will it take to break this trance?" Was this written by a vaxxer or an anti-vaxxer? It is hard to tell. Desmet may describe the masses that conform to large-scale patterns as hypnotized, but those masses would insist that they are seeing things clearly. In their estimate, they are on the right side of history and fighting the good fight. It is thus counter-productive, I argue, for opponents/critics of those masses to describe themselves as on the right side of history and fighting the good fight.

Semiotics (sometimes spelled “semeiotic”) is the name first given by John Locke, and later reprised by Charles S. Peirce, for the “doctrine of signs,” or the study of how some things can stand for other things to still other things. This deliberate inquiry can be contrasted with “folk semiotic” accounts, which assume that there is some intrinsic feature about, say, the human voice or a painted board that makes them capable of signifying. Such a naive assumption does not withstand serious scrutiny. From a philosophical standpoint, what makes something a sign is an involvement in a specific sort of triadic relation. This relation is found in human/nonhuman and deliberate/nondeliberate signs alike. Semiosis, the action of signs, is what permits communication, but it is wider than communication. For example, if while in an adjacent room I smell that the turkey in the oven is ready, my pet dog can smell it too, and the turkey is not trying to “tell” us anything. But if the cook in the kitchen tells me it is ready, I receive that message, while my dog hears the sounds but is none the wiser (in contemporary semiotic parlance, my dog and I couple our Umwelten via indices, but the symbols at hand generate interpretants only in my anthroposemiosis). In spite of the fact that it has a long and distinguished history (especially during the medieval period), general inquiry into signs became an organized research program only in the mid-20th century. Today, in addition to philosophers, semiotics attracts a wide range of scholars, such as ethologists, cognitive scientists, linguists, art historians, logicians, media theorists, literary critics, computer programmers, biologists, sociologists, and so on. From a methodological standpoint, then, parochialism is not an option. The scholarly literature can nevertheless be fruitfully divided into theoretical and applied strands. Not surprisingly, most philosophers drawn to semiotic questions work in the former strand. Semiotics is not to be confused with “semiology,” a (now largely defunct) project that originated in the lectures of the linguist Ferdinand de Saussure and which was active in the 1960s, mainly in France. Semiotics, by contrast, is a vibrant tradition that continues to flourish worldwide. Although some persist in employing the term “semiotics” when discussing narrow studies that focus exclusively on cultural codes, such terminological misuse masks the fact that a study of signs is broader than a study of language. A sustained philosophy of signs, then, promises (as Locke initially surmised) to yield truly novel insights.

The suggestion that we might live in a giant computer simulation seems plausible in large part because the hypothetical sophistication of the hypothetical simulation can be increased to meet almost any objection. From an engineering standpoint, the technological increases required by this strategy may not always be feasible. Proceeding nevertheless from an idealization, David Chalmers argues that the virtual objects and worlds displayed in perfect and permanent computer simulations could be regarded as real because, on those terms (perfection and permanence), our own world could just as well be virtual. I counter that real reality, or RR, possesses (at least) five features that no VR simulation could ever reproduce: RR involves genuinely causal regularities, it is older than any machine, it will outlast any machine, it supports living bodies in ways that cannot be replaced, and thus belongs to an entirely different category than artifacts. These differences are especially robust, since they all grant the possibility of present-moment indistinguishability while halting any collapse or blurring of the virtual/real distinction.

This paper describes how bodily positions and gestures were used to teach argument diagramming to a student who cannot see. After listening to short argumentative passages with a screen reader, the student had to state the conclusion while touching his belly button. When stating a premise, he had to touch one of his shoulders. Premises lending independent support to a conclusion were thus diagrammed by a V-shaped gesture, each shoulder proposition going straight to the conclusion. Premises lending dependent support were diagrammed by a T-shaped gesture, the shoulder premises meeting at the collar bone before moving down to the belly button. Arguments involving two pairs of entailments were diagrammed by an I-shaped gesture, going from the collar bone to a mid-way conclusion above the abdomen before travelling to the final conclusion at the belly button. The student’s strong performance suggests that placing propositions at different locations on the body and uniting them with gestures can help one discern correct argumentative structures.

Sami Pihlström argues that, for principled reasons, we have a duty not to listen to racists. Although this stance can seem admirable, I worry that by cutting itself off from evidence, a refusal to listen leaves wrongfully accused persons no means of exonerating themselves. Moreover, given that concepts like racism now encompass beliefs and acts that many rightly consider sensible, a policy of silence risks dismissing implausibly large numbers of people as immoral. Stressing that listening is not acquiescing, I urge Pihlström to think more carefully about the consequences of his stance, especially since it would increase the likelihood of conflict.

Peter Königs recently argued that, while autonomous robots generate responsibility gaps, such gaps need not be considered problematic. I argue that Königs’ compromise dissolves under analysis since, on a proper understanding of what “responsibility” is and what “gap” (metaphorically) means, their joint endorsement must repel an attitude of indifference. So, just as “calamities that happen but don’t bother anyone” makes no sense, the idea of “responsibility gaps that exist but leave citizens and ethicists unmoved” makes no sense.

Peirce and Husserl both realized that our habits and habitual conceptions, though vital to the success of most activities, nevertheless occlude large portions of the experiential canvass. So, unless preparatory work puts us in the right mindset, we risk perceiving the world—not as it is—but rather as we expect it to be. While Peirce and Husserl were predominantly concerned with supplying a better observational basis for inquiries like science, semiotics, and mathematics, I draw on their phaneroscopic/phenomenological tools to combat the addictive and mind-narrowing effects of technology. I go over several examples to show how, when we (try to) rid ourselves of presuppositions and relax the pursuit of efficiency, we enable contemplative possibilities conducive to flourishing and the pursuit of meaning. My overall message is that, in an age when we increasingly depend on devices like Smartphones (and soon VR) to form flat and one-sided worldviews, re-establishing an unmediated contact with our everyday surroundings can have tangible existential benefits, nipping in the bud tyrannical trends as well as wasted lives.

Descartes held that it is impossible to make true statements about what we perceive, but I go over alleged cases of illusory experience to show why such a skeptical conclusion (and recourse to God) is overblown. The overreaction, I contend, stems from an insufficient awareness of the habitual expectations brought to any given experience. These expectations manifest themselves in motor terms, as perception constantly prompts and updates an embodied posture of readiness for what might come next. Such habitual anticipations work best when they efface themselves, so it is easy to blame perception when our expectations get frustrated. I illustrate this misdirected blame with the example of a stick partially in water: it is only because we expect the stick to be straight that its appearance as bent is deemed problematic. I thus conclude that, if we factor in the habitual interpretations operative in perception and switch to a processual view that allows practical engagement, we can deflate the worries that led Descartes to rule out perceptual truths. Distancing myself from the naïve “sign” of folk semiotics, my critique draws inspiration from the triadic semiotic model developed in some late medieval schools of Portugal.

As artificial intelligence becomes more sophisticated and robots approach autonomous decision-making, debates about how to assign moral responsibility have gained importance, urgency, and sophistication. Answering Stenseke’s (2022a) call for scaffolds that can help us classify views and commitments, we think the current debate space can be represented hierarchically, as answers to key questions. We use the resulting taxonomy of five stances to differentiate—and defend—what is known as the “blank check” proposal. According to this proposal, a person activating a robot could willingly make themselves answerable for whatever events ensue, even if those events stem from the robot’s autonomous decision(s). This blank check solution was originally proposed in the context of automated warfare (Champagne & Tonkens, 2015), but we extend it to cover all robots. We argue that, because moral answerability in the blank check is accepted voluntarily and before bad outcomes are known, it proves superior to alternative ways of assigning blame. We end by highlighting how, in addition to being just, this self-initiated and prospective moral answerability for robot harm provides deterrence that the four other stances cannot match.

Ayn Rand and Immanuel Kant had profound disagreements, not just about the possible scope of knowledge, but (more importantly) about the possible scope of philosophy, especially metaphysics. This paper explores those disagreements, steel-manning both sides. My conclusion is that 1) both thinkers have worthwhile points to make, yet 2) Rand is guilty of poor scholarship while 3) Kant is guilty of appeal to ignorance. Despite the fallacious nature of (3), I stress that ignorance is not by itself something that philosophers committed to objectivity should panic about.

This chapter investigates whether signs and their action, semiosis, are real. It critically surveys three arguments. The first argument consists in holding that semiosis must be real, because denying the reality of signs is self-defeating. This self-confirming status seems to imply that semiosis is the very means by which we partition the mind-independent and mind-dependent. One would then need to clarify this ontological neutrality or priority. The second argument consists in identifying an instance of sign-action that is mind-independent. Instead of searching for abiotic semiosis, a more parsimonious approach is to ask whether we want reality to be what exists apart from minds in general or apart from human minds specifically. If we adopt the latter view, and if the action of signs can be shown to take place in the non-human realm, this would show that semiosis does not depend on us. One would then need to explain how humans can interpret all this while putting themselves out of the equation, so to speak. The third argument consists in saying that, despite its initial plausibility, the mind-dependent and mind-independent division is not clear-cut. This is because some conventional patterns can be informationally compressed in ways that are practically indistinguishable from genuinely mind-independent patterns. One would then need to clarify how the mind-dependent/mind-independent divide can admit of such hybrid cases.

What would judicious technology use look like? In this book, I use a mix of logical argumentation, phenomenological attention, and myth interpretation to champion caution in the face of uncritical consumption. If forced to choose, I would pick meaningful inefficiency over meaningless efficiency. Unfortunately, questioning technological development often gets dismissed as “Luddism.” As a philosopher trained to examine arguments on all sides of an issue, I do not find this lopsidedness helpful. Things would not turn out well for a driver if their car could not slow down, stop, or go in reverse. So, when it comes to technology, I aim to make those three moves respectable and feasible.

Sam Harris (2010) argues that, given our neurology, we can experience well-being, and that seeking to maximize this state lets us distinguish the good from the bad. He takes our ability to compare degrees of well-being as his starting point, but I think that the analysis can be pushed further, since there is a (non-religious) reason why well-being is desirable, namely the finite life of an individual organism. It is because death is a constant possibility that things can be assessed as “for” or “against” one (Champagne 2011a; Smith 2000). Such an account lets us objectively adjudicate moral questions, as Harris desires. However, by anchoring itself in the mortal body as a whole and not just the brain, such an account dampens the claim that neuroscience would have all the answers. Moreover, it pivots on an affirmation of one’s life that can seem mysterious by regular scientific standards. This chapter thus explains why the trade-off is worthwhile.

A typical device in film is to have a character narrating what is going on (sometimes by voice-over), but this narration is not always a reliable guide to the events. According to Maier, distortions may be caused by the narrator’s intent, naivety, use of drugs, and/or cognitive disorder/illness. What is common to these various causes, he argues, is the presence of a point of view, which appears in a movie as shots. While this perspective-based account of unreliability covers most cases, I unpack its methodological consequences and gesture at a possibility that Maier’s analysis overlooks. A narration, I suggest, can be unreliable simply because it is ill-timed with the events shown on screen. In such a case, the distortion is not due to any character’s point of view; rather, it comes from the film medium’s ability to divorce what is seen and what is heard. As a consequence of this mismatch, it is possible to have a reliable narrator but an unreliable narration. Since voice and context of utterance usually match in ordinary speech, I conclude that philosophy of language may be ill-suited to properly understand this particular phenomenon.

Structured around Charles S. Peirce's three-fold categorical scheme, this article proposes a comparative study of Ayn Rand and Peirce's realist views in general metaphysics. Rand's stance is seen as diverging with Peirce's argument from asymptotic representation but converging with arguments from brute relation and neutral category. It is argued that, by dismissing traditional subject-object dualisms, Rand and Peirce both propose iconoclastic construals of what it means to be real, dismissals made all the more noteworthy by the fact each chose to ground them in indissoluble triads of self-evident first principles.

This paper suggests that it is largely a want of notional distinctions which fosters the “explanatory gap” that has beset the study of consciousness since T. Nagel’s revival of the topic. Modifying Ned Block’s controversial claim that we should countenance a “phenomenal-consciousness” which exists in its own right, we argue that there is a way to recuperate the intuitions he appeals to without engaging in an onerous reification of the facet in question. By renewing with the full type/token/tone trichotomy developed by C. S. Peirce, we think the distinctness Block calls attention to can be seen as stemming not from any separate module lurking within the mind, but rather from our ability to prescind qualities from occurrences.