The “Hyde” character of fear has been so widely, and generally so exclusively, dwelt upon, that a review of what can be truthfully said in praise of its “Jekyll” character is, I trust, not untimely. I shall proceed on the assumption that all the natural passions, with-out exception, are essential, ineradicable factors in our human make-up, each allowing of both use and abuse. This, as I shall endeavour to show, is no less true of fear than of what we quite justly call the higher emotions.

The words “free will” have uses in ordinary talk as in “free will offering” and, most commonly, in the expression “of my (your, etc.) own free will.” We all know what states of affairs make this expression applicable, and its standard use is defined by this application. Yet philosophers discuss, or used to discuss, whether the will is free, libertarians saying that it is and determinists denying this. Are they, or were they, asking whether anyone ever acts of his own free will? If so, the question asked was absurd.

Every case of knowing that S is, was or will be P involves, when analysed, some decision or the acceptance of some decision. This applies equally when you are discussing the so-called tautological propositions of logic and pure mathematics; for you can only claim to “know” that some logical or mathematical proposition is true because you have previously decided to accept that certain meanings shall be attached to certain words, or that certain symbols shall function in a certain way. When we examine what philosophers are doing who demand that we prefix “we know” to this or that part of their analyses of perceptual situations, we find that they are often using “know” in a question-begging manner in order to buttress some particular, and usually contentious, analysis. Nor is any philosopher in a position to lay down rigid and precise rules for the proper use of “know” in ordinary conversation; although he can usefully debate the nature and cogency of the grounds on which decisions, issuing in “know”-statements, are generally made. Lastly, Austin is quite right in claiming that when I say “I know” I give my authority and pledge my word, which I do not do when I merely say “I believe”; but I give my authority and pledge my word only because I have decided, or accepted a decision, that so and so is the case.

I propose to elaborate some hints dropped by Mr. Strawson2 in order to relieve those pressures of language that have led philosophers to pose and attempt to answer the pseudo-question, “How is induction justified?” Once the source of these pressures is exposed we can turn our attention to the real problems of induction, namely how particular inductive procedures are justified, without feeling that a deeper problem remains always to be solved.