Philosophers are fond of fiction and of imaginary examples to fill out their discussions of ethics. As with the stories of Jim and the guerrillas, of down and outs unwisely wandering into transplant hospitals and of railway wagons careering out of control towards philosophically minded points switchers, these examples are inclined to become baroque in their complexity and over-elaboration; any initial force or verisimilitude they may have had in their unadorned state is quickly overlain with a heavy varnish of cleverness and complication.

As an antidote to this modern day scholasticism, we could propose the true story of Joe Simpson and Simon Yates, recently made into a film in which the two protagonists actually describe (independently) what happened.

Philosophy may have universalist pretensions; at least it may if its goal is still truth (absolute); goodness (for all) and beauty (as surviving a history-transcending test of time). No doubt such ideals are subject to accusations of Platonism, logocentrism and much else, though it is hard to see what philosophy is without least a taint of such ideals. An accusation these ideals is not properly subject to is ‘Eurocentrism’. Whatever the Eurocentric faults of individual philosophers, the fault lies in the practice, not in the ideal.

No doubt there have been faults. At times there has been culpable ignorance of other traditions; at times shouting down of other voices (and this is not confined to other voices from non-Western cultures). One response to such faults is muticulturalism; a subject recently much in the news. Are we multiculturalists? Has multiculturalism failed? What is multiculturalism? These questions increasingly and not before time occupy public discussion; unfortunately generating in the answers given much heat and much confusion.

Whatever multiculturalism is, given its Herderian roots, it is at the very least a sense that other cultures, all other cultures, should receive recognition and should be heard. Recognition of others as others, in their otherness, is at the heart of it. And this is, in a sense, a universalist ideal. But it is one which may sit ill with the universalism of philosophy. If recognition is our ideal, what place in our activity is there for the search for truth, which has been defined as culture blind and culture transcendent?

‘Books are the work of solitude, and the children of silence.’ Thus Marcel Proust. The writer is not the same person as the man. The writer, if any good, is a different person, a higher person or at least one who distils something more worthy than is evidenced in the blunderings and fumblings and inadequacies of the everyday character who shares the same skin. This was the basis of Proust's own blistering attack on Sainte-Beuve, to the effect that the critic (or so-called critic) substituted gossip for criticism and, incidentally, failed to recognize the genius of Baudelaire.

In philosophy we have our own Proustian tendency, in the unlikely form of Karl Popper, For Popper, the provenance of ideas is supremely unimportant—and so, by extension is the biography of their authors. A healthy corrective, one might think, to the present day culture of celebrity, even at the intellectual level, and to the flood of philosophical biographies and title-tattle. At a more serious level, it warns us that we should not treat a philosopher's ideas with suspicion because (just because he was a Nazi in his lifetime or she was a communist when she was young or the apostle of equality is a snob living high on the hoof or the advocate of open discussion anything but its practitioner.

In the near universal dismay among ‘thinking’ Europeans at the re-election of President George W. Bush there has been one un-thinking notion which has reached cliché status so often has it been repeated.

It is that what we saw in America on November 2nd was a manifestation, among 60 million Americans or so, of pre-Enlightened irrationality. Bush, this view has it, was elected by the religious right which, by definition, is anti-science. Ruling the roost in the world's only remaining super-power it is, almost by definition, dangerous. It is dangerously dogmatic in its opposition in principle to the progress made in moral matters by secularism over the past century or two, and dangerous in that it is a view which now has so much power behind it.

The questions considered are whether colours are relative to systems of colour concepts, to the conditions in which they are observed, or to observers or communities of observers; and whether the relativity of colours, such as it is, implies that they are less real than shapes or intervals in time. The argument is based on the thought that Special Relativity provides the best available intellectual framework for thinking about the supposed relativity of qualities of physical things.

The paper is a tribute to the late Stuart Hampshire's investigations of the ramifying role of intention in our conceptual scheme. It surveys the central argument of Thought and Action and the third chapter of Freedom of the Individual. Emphasis is placed upon Hampshire's constructive account of human agency and consequent description of the manner in which perception and action are interwoven. His analysis of the character of intentional action, self-knowledge and autonomy is described. Various lacunae in Hampshire's account are identified and an attempt is made to fill them in in a manner consistent with Hampshire's insights.

Among the most elementary of moral truisms is the principle of universality: we apply to ourselves the same standards we do to others, more stringent ones if we are serious. A near-universal principle of intellectual culture is the rejection of this truism, sometimes explicitly. Rejection of this and similar moral truisms has severe human consequences, and yields what are regarded as “hard problems”—hard in no small measure because truisms are rejected. Illustrations range from establishment of “norms” for international behavior to practice and doctrine with regard.

What binds the constituents of a state of affairs together and provides unity to the fact they constitute? I argue that the fact that they are related is basic and fundamental. This is the thesis of Factualism: the world is a world of facts. I draw three corollaries: first, that the Identity of truth is mistaken, in conflating what represents (the proposition) with what is represented (the fact). Secondly, a popular interpretation of Wittgenstein's Tractatus, due to Steinus, whereby false propositions are taken to picture non-existent state of affairs, cannot be right. For Wittgenstein, propositions had two poles, and a proposition and its negation picture the same fact. Finally, the metaphysics of modal realism must be wrong, for there are no non-actual states of affairs to constitute any world other than the actual world.

It is often asserted that even our own past is a foreign country: the ideas of past thinkers are, in some ways, alien to us today. For the European historian of non-European philosophy, not only is the past held to be a different country, but it is also the past of a different country. This is both convenient and problematic all at once. The ‘Western’ historian of non-European philosophy faces a double separation from his/her subject matter; she is both a foreigner and an alien. In this paper, I approach questions of how this historian should orientate herself towards her subject, and why she (and we) should care about it at all.

The current transatlantic debate over multilateralism reveals that the traditional understanding of liberal internationalism is being transcended in favor of “globalism.” The latter is a doctrine that goes well beyond favoring international cooperation among states; in fact, the new globalism is intrinsically hostile to the sovereignty of the nation-state. Thus it runs counter to the basic liberal understanding of the nature of the political order, as reflected in the American Declaration of Independence and, on a more philosophical level, in the political teaching of John Locke. The Declaration and the Lockean teaching proclaim universal principles, but hold that the implementation of these principles should be the business not of some international authority but of democratically elected and accountable national

In the 1950's some prominent philosophers suggested a logical relation weaker than entailment between primarily descriptive statements and ethical conclusions. The paper revisits this suggestion. It examines four ways in which ethical statemnts can be supported by descriptions and evaluations. This provides a similarity bteween some kinds of reason-giving in ethics and familiar cases of logical inference, making it plausible to speak of a logic. The similarity however is limited, and the strength in ethics of descriptive reasons is never precise and always somewhat contestable.

Do minority groups have a right to the preservation of their language? I argue that the rights of groups are always reducible to the rights of individuals. In that case, the question whether minorities have a right to the preservation of their language is a question of whether individuals have a right to it. I argue that, in the only relevant sense of ‘right’, they do not. They may have an interest in the preservation of their language, but, if so, that interest must be weighed against the costs of satisfying it, and, normally at least, we should expect that the costs will be quite out of proportion to the weight of the interests involved.

In the paper, starting from a slightly modified version of van Fraassen's pragmatic approach to explanation, I will propose a pragmatical meta-model for the different biological explanatory models. That is, I will offer a pragmatic point of view to rule different explanatory models in function of the biological context from which the given biologist explains.

Thomas Nagel has held that transcendence requires attaining a point of view stripped of features unique to our perspective. The aim of transcendence on this view is to get at reality as it is, independent of our contributions to it. I show this notion of transcendence to be incoherent, yet defend a contrasting notion of transcendence. As conceived here, transcendence does not require striving for an external, objective viewpoint on nature or looking at matters from someone else's or an impartial point of view. On my view, which builds on the work of Iris Murdoch, transcendence consists of a refinement of our concepts and sensibility to make them more adequate to the individuals we encounter.

One evolutionary advantage is that, because of sensory and perceptual relativity (acknowledged as an empirical fact), the tracking of portions of the real relevant to the living creature can be enhanced if updating from species-member to species-member can take place. In human perception, the structure is therefore in the form of a triangulation (Davidson's metaphor) in which continual mutual correction can be performed. Language, that which distinguishes human beings from other animals, capitalizes on that structure. The means by which updating of adaptiveness takes place in the human species is shown to involve a covert hypothesis of singularity in co-reference, a structure that brings the idea of mutual faith and its character to the fore.

If Wittgenstein's later account of language is applied to music, what seems to follow is a version of musical formalism. This is to say that the meaning of music is constituted by the rules of a given system of music, and the understanding of music is the ability to follow these rules. I argue that, while this view may seem unattractive at the outset, Wittgenstein actually held this view. Moreover, his later notion of a rule gives us resources to answer some of the traditional criticisms directed against formalism.

Solving the problem of moral luck—the problem of dealing with conflicting intuitions about whether moral blameworthiness varies with luck in cases of negligence—is like repairing a dented fender in front of two kinds of critic. The one keeps telling you that there is no dent, and the other sees the dent but keeps warning you that repairing it will do more harm than good. It is time to straighten things out. As I argue elsewhere, the solution to the problem of moral luck is finally revealed. Our task now is twofold: to hold a magnifying glass up to the initial problem, so that all might finally see it; and to dismiss unfounded fears about solving that problem, so that all might finally stop grinning and bearing it.

The world we lost, and now barely understand, was one where everyone knew her place, and her attendant duties. Civilized groups were the likeliest to insist on a diversity of rôle and rule. Primitive societies are ones where there are rather fewer such distinctions. Slaves and merchants offered a way of being outside the orders, and from the older point of view, the life of slaves and merchants is exactly what the ‘liberal’ ideal entails. No one can count on her connections; everything is up for sale; no one is dishonoured by the acts of friends or family; only animal passions keep us all together. Even in societies that profess egalitarian theories, castes and classes re-emerge. If there is another option it may lie in drawing, as the ancients did, a clear division between selfhood and nature: even in a traditionally hierarchical society it is possible to recall the mere selves that play their various parts. In a would-be egalitarian society that hopes for something more than the hedonic or agonistic bonds that may bind small-scale communities together, recalling, and reconstructing, that distinction may be even more important.

In his ‘pains and Places’ (Philosophy 78, 2003), John Hyman is right that pains are not located in their causes or effects but in the hurting limbs. However, his position may be consonant with Wittgensteinian expressivism or the view that consciousness is the locus of pain: In producing its own parts, a living organism ‘autopoietically’ sustains itself as an activity functionally present in its limbs. It thus supplies the biological basis for pain consciousness as something wholly present in organs that hurt.

The argument of J. M. E. McTaggart in ‘The Unreality of Time’ (Mind 1908) fails logically. There is no A series as such, but there is a shifting past-present-future arrangement within and consistent with the earlier-later B series, past being always earlier, future always later, present always a position earlier or later. An exactly similar logical structure is constructible within the number series, by making each number as one goes up it in turn (it does not matter what ‘it’, or ‘present’, means, ontologically). The subsequent argument that past-present-future time falls into contradiction then fails also, and proves to be equivocal.