Knobe wants to help adjudicate the philosophical debate concerning whether and under what conditions we normally judge that some side effect was brought about intentionally. His proposal for doing so is perhaps an obvious one--simply elicit the intuitions of "The Folk" directly on the matter and record the results. Knobe concludes that people's judgment that a side effect was brought about intentionally apparently rests, at least in part, upon how blameworthy they find the agent responsible for it. Knobe's appreciably straightforward (...) approach to this question does not settle the matter, however. Simply raising that question can itself affect our evaluation of the side effect in question as either something good or something bad. As a result, Knobe's experiments effectively bias subjects' responses toward judging the given side effects more negatively than they might have otherwise. Subjects failed to assign a high level of praise for good side effects because taking into account whether they were brought about intentionally or unintentionally makes them suspect. 2012 APA, all rights reserved). (shrink)

Wide agreement exists that self-ascriptions that one would express with the first-person pronoun differ in kind from those one would express with other self-designating expressions such as proper names and definite descriptions. At least some first-person self-ascriptions, many argue, are nonaccidental---that is, they involve no self-identification, and hence in making them one cannot accidentally misidentify the subject of the ascription. I examine the support for this claim throughout the literature, paying particular attention to Sydney Shoemaker's proposal that self-ascriptions are nonaccidental (...) in virtue of being immune to error through misidentification relative to the first-person pronoun. According to Shoemaker, such immunity results from the special way in which one is introspectively aware of the psychological property or state ascribed, a way that leaves no room for questions to arise as to whether oneself is its bearer. I contend that though it may seem from the point of view of consciousness that we are directly and immediately aware of the states of our bodies and minds as our own, both theoretical and empirical considerations strongly suggests that we have no such direct awareness. Proprioception and introspection prove in the end to be better described as types of informed, conscious self-interpretation. Taking inspiration from Dennett, Rosenthal, and Nozick, I offer the naive proposal as an alternative that explains all self-ascriptions in terms of one's relying upon a battery of commonsense self-specifying beliefs to interpret both which state or property one has and who has it. As a result, first-person self-ascriptions differ from others only in degree and not in kind, and self-misidentification always remains a possibility---even when self-ascribing properties with the first-person pronoun. (shrink)

JOHANNES ROESSLER & NAOMI EILAN (Eds.)Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003ISBN 0199245622 (pbk, 415 pages, $39.95)In The Principles of Psychology, William James presents an interesting case of a ‘...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Stanley Cavell: Philosophy’s Recounting of the OrdinaryRoblin MeeksStanley Cavell: Philosophy’s Recounting of the Ordinary, by Stephen Mulhall; xxv & 351 pp. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994, $52.00.Despite what his book’s title might suggest, Stephen Mulhall’s thorough explication of Stanley Cavell’s philosophy is anything but ordinary. At the outset Mulhall makes it clear that he intends to address Cavell’s exceptional formidability, and sets himself “not to attempt to (...) do what can and must only be done by Cavell’s own prose, but to clear the space that is required for it to do so” (p. vii). He grapples with those peculiar factors that fortify Cavell’s work against many readers: a viscous style and the manifold directions in which that style has stretched. An extensive exegesis, Mulhall believes, will prepare the ground for thoughtful critiques long overdue.In order to disarm Cavell’s “unfashionable tone” (p. viii), Mulhall opens with a discussion of Cavell’s earlier and more traditional work in aesthetics. He carefully attends to the ways in which Cavell appropriated and practiced ordinary language philosophy as established by Wittgenstein and Austin, and in so doing he displays Cavell’s struggle with this methodological inheritance. Conceiving it as the “paradigmatically modern philosophy” (p. 73), Cavell believes that ordinary language creates a tension between philosophy’s present and its past inflections—an urgency he finds ubiquitous in modern Western culture, echoed in contemporary painting and music. For Cavell, philosophy is invariably both subject and object.The second part of the book informs and extends the first, addressing Cavell’s elemental motivation—skepticism. Mulhall shows that Cavell “sees the practices of ordinary language philosophy as everywhere set in opposition to [End Page 407] the skeptical impulse” (p. 186). In reply to each “specific outbreak of what seems to be a fundamental human desire to repudiate that which aligns speakers with one another and with the world they inhabit” (p. 186), Cavell argues that investigations into the criteria governing what we say when—this is the sense in which he “recounts the ordinary”—can reaffirm the alignments between speakers and their world.Mulhall devotes most of his remaining pages to subjects in which Cavell observes the meeting of ordinary language philosophy and the skeptical impulse: film, literary theory, psychoanalysis, and the writings of Shakespeare, Emerson, and Thoreau—subjects traditionally located outside the philosophical pale of settlement. Mulhall demonstrates how these things have in turn shaped Cavell’s own method. Where Wittgenstein, for example, adopted a dense but laconic approach in his investigations, Cavell has come to exercise a species of Emersonian perfectionism. His abundant prose is intended to revise and to expand upon itself, offering itself up for criticism.Mulhall himself, however, does not fully accept this invitation. Since he states in his introduction that he is interested primarily in opening up Cavell’s philosophy for genuine critical response, and since he presents the strongest possible case on its behalf, he is in an ideal position—indeed, no one is better positioned—to offer an exhaustive critique. And yet the criticism he eventually levels (Cavell’s reliance upon religious metaphor is undercut by a chronic distaste for Christianity) fails to persuade; it is inadequately developed. Mulhall wants to maintain the exegete’s distance even when Cavell’s writing beckons him into the more intimate role of critic.Mulhall is right that Cavell’s philosophical aim is “to create a set of texts, to establish and maintain a texture of prose, that can earn the title of philosophy from its readers” (p. xiv). But he insufficiently explores the degree to which the skeptical impulse fundamentally infects this overarching ambition with doubt. And so he under-appreciates Cavell’s vexation. For if ordinary language philosophy—in working through the ineluctable tension between modernity and history—cannot produce work capable of being called philosophy or itself fails to find an audience, what can? Such questions ultimately lead back to Cavell’s own prose, and it is to Mulhall’s credit that he has cleared the space for such a return.Roblin MeeksCity University of New YorkCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)