The answer to the general question is that indeterminism at the "lower" level doesn't have to mean indeterminism at "higher" levels. Here's an abstract way to think about it. Suppose some theory has a set of possible states -- call it S -- and a strict deterministic law governing how the states change over time. Let's suppose that this theory is both true and know to be true. But suppose, unbeknownst to us, each of the states in S can be realized in many different ways, at some sub-microscopic level that we don't have access to. And suppose that even though the law that tells us how we get from one state in S to another is deterministic, there's no deterministic law governing exactlywhich way states in S will be realized as the system moves from one state to another.We might never have any reason to believe any such thing, but it could be true all the same. That's one story about how indeterminism at the micro level might not infect the macro level. Another way is a "for all practical...

Sure. For one thing, nature doesn't care about our arbitrary units. Suppose we have a plank of wood that''s exactly a foot long. Now I define a new unit: a schfoot. Anything one foot long is exactly pi schfeet long. Is there any mystery about things being pi schfeet long? Also -- since we're setting aside issues about quanta and, I assume, the possibility that space is granular, can't we make sense of something changing length continuously? A twig that's a foot long and growing will pass through an uncountable number of irrational lengths on its way from being a foot long to being two feet long.

I'm inclined to make a distinction between two things here: the grammar, as it were, of the word "owe" and the right thing to do. I think a case can be made for saying that since you weren't a party to Pete's deed and didn't consent to it, then you owe Mary 100 euros, in at least one recognizable sense of "owe." And one can also make the case that you don't "owe" Pete 100 euros, since you didn't enter into any arrangement with him. I'm pretty sure that if we were in the realm of contract law (suppose there actually is a signed note here), this is how it would sort out, though there might be some tricky legal issues that, as an amateur, I'm overlooking. That said, if I were advising someone in this position, I'd say that at the least, they should pay Pete back. It would be a good thing as well to come clean to Mary. But whatever one thinks the moral obligations are here, we can prise them apart -- to at least some degree -- from strictly legal issue about who owes what to whom.

Of course, if you vote, you do get at least an indirect say in who's on the court. And after all, your say in a good many matters is only indirect. In any case, if the question is what the Constitution means, there's something unappetizing about having the check be one that's too directly tied to the political realm. Constitutions are supposed to set some things beyond the reach of the ordinary democratic process, not least so as to evade what some call the "tyranny of the majority." But in any case, it's not as though there are no counterweights. Some have held that Congress has the authority to declare that some matters are simply outside the purview of the Court, though I gather that this is controversial. But if the Court makes a constitution ruling that enough people object to, the Constitution can be amended, and has been many times. More generally, what strikes me (as someone born elsewhere) is that far from being "primitive," the American system of checks and balances - including...

What strikes me first is that ethical egoism isn't the real issue here. If any ethical theory claims that we're obliged to maximize something or other, then there's no room left for supererogation. This means that the same point would apply, e.g., to certain forms of utilitarianism. As you are in effect pointing out, nothing's better than the best. But the second point is that one could be an ethical egoist (or a utilitarian, for that matter) and not think that one is always obliged to maximize one's self-interest. One might think, for example, that some sort of "satisficing" is good enough to discharge one's duties. In other words, there would be a standard of what's good enough, and meeting that would suffice for doing what one ought to. But that leaves room for supererogation.

Consider an analogy. Suppose I wanted to learn physics, and I decided to read great works of physics in chronological order. Whatever value that project might have, it would be a poor way to become a physicist. So no: I wouldn't recommend reading historical works in chronological order. I wouldn't even recommend putting a lot of emphasis on reading historical works, period. One reason: philosophy is essentially something you do . Working philosophers aren't intellectual historians. They're trying to sort their way through problems. Work by older philosophers can be suggestive and relevant, but most working philosophers spend very little of their time reading the classics. I'm guessing that by "secondary sources" you mean commentaries on historical works or introductory material on various problems. My suggestion: move next to edited collections of contemporary papers on problems that you're interested in. For example: if you're interested in the free will problem, you might consider getting...

Reformed epistemologists, as I understand them, are saying that we could know that God exists even if we were utterly unable to give a proof. That's because on their view, knowing something isn't a matter of being able to give reasons for believing it. Knowing something is a matter of being connected to it in the right sort of way. A little too simply, suppose there really is a God, and that the reason I believe God exists is because God reliably causes me to believe it. (And if God's causings wouldn't be reliable, then which ones would?) Reformed epistemologists would say that in that case, I know that God exists. This isn't a proof that God exists, and it isn't an argument to convince you that you should believe in God. It's a special case of a general view about knowledge: that we know things when they're true and our beliefs about them are caused in the right sort of way. And notice that this sort of view has some advantages. If there really is a computer in front of me, and if my belief...

You've put your conclusion by saying that morality is entirely a matter of what promotes human survival, but that, I'd suggest, isn't really the issue. I'm assuming you might be open to the idea that rampant cruelty to animals is wrong, whether or not it harms the chances for human survival. But even if you agreed, that wouldn't get you out of the dilemma you feel you're faced with. The real issue, I think, is that you've become convinced that morality doesn't need religion, and most of the people around you think otherwise. But here's a little secret: even people who think that there's an intimate connection between religion and morality ignore the connection in most of their moral thinking. There are very few people who think that murder would be perfectly acceptable except that God has commanded otherwise. There are very few people who think it would be okay to steal someone's wallet but for the fact that God disapproves. The fact is that aside from a few hot-button issues (abortion and...

I did it, last Tuesday. But actually, I'm a bit puzzled. The distinction between deduction and induction never was a distinction between universal-to-particular and particular-to-universal. Consider: All dogs are mammals; all mammals are animals. So all dogs are animals. We haven't gone from universal to particular, but surely the reasoning is deductive. Or better: If Max is in Cincinnati, then so is Jennifer. But Max is in Cincinnati. So Jennifer is there too. A perfectly good deduction, but not a case of reasoning from universal to particular. On the induction side, suppose that every egg I've eaten has given me hearburn. I'm about to eat an egg. So I infer that this particular egg will (probably) give me heartburn. This is inductive reasoning, but it doesn't go from particular to universal. In a correct deductive argument, the conclusion follows from the premises. Put roughly, it's impossible for the premises to be true and the conclusion simultaneously false, but whether premises or...

People have talked about this. One oft-cited paper is Hilary Putnam's 1968 paper "Is Logic Empirical?" (Reprinted in his Mathematics, Matter and Method as "The Logic of Quantum Mechanics.") Putnam's arguments were of a "web of belief" sort: our beliefs form a web with some more central than others, but all are revisable. Quantum mechanics, Putnam thought, has given us the same sorts of reasons to revise our logical opinions as relativity gave us to revise our geometrical opinions. A large literature (to which I made some contributions) followed in the wake of Putnam's paper. The issues here resist easy summary. In an unpublished talk, Saul Kripke offered some trenchant criticisms of Putnam's approach. My own view is that many of Kripke's criticisms can be met, but the upshot is not exactly that logic is empirical in the way Putnam believed. Rather, it could be, for all Kripke has shown, that there are logical relations found in some worlds that may be absent in others. If that's right, it...