The question whether philosophy will ever end is not quite the same as the question whether we'll ever find what you refer to as the unchallengeable truth. I'll just focus on the former question. Of course, philosophy might end because our species or something else destroys life as we know it. That ending for philosophy would be sad but not very interesting. Your question instead seems to suggest that you're wondering whether, even if we had world enough and time (and let's add determination, also), we could answer all philosophical questions. Some philosophers have taken a stand on this issue. For instance, Colin McGinn has argued that the "mind/body problem" cannot in principle be solved. Such a position might take either of two forms: (a) one holds that there's a definite question that needs answering, but that for some deep reason we are barred from being able to find the answer, or (b) the question is itself confused or ill-posed. Either of these positions might support the...

Thanks for your question. In general, I don't have any idea what the entire range of possible responses are to a question or comment, but here are a few to the ones you mention: 1. One response is to agree with the criticism and thereby acknowledge that these concepts are indeed meaningless. That's one possible response, but it might leave you a little unsatisfied, so you might consider another: 2. It is perhaps true that some philosophers use terms like these (I'll talk of terms rather than concepts) in a way that is more obfuscatory than illuminating. However, it's not so hard to use 'being' as a term for everything that exists. That seems perfectly intelligible even if we can't give a full account of what that includes, that is of all that does in fact exist. Also, whereas 'nothingness' is a bit hifalutin, one can use 'nothing' with a perfectly clear meaning. For instance a person might point out that there's nothing in the fridge, meaning not that it contains nothing at all ...

Good question. I suspect that the answer is 'yes', but we need to be clear that there are some puzzles about so-called 'self-deception' that need to be avoided. It's not plausible that I could lie to myself, fully knowing that I'm doing so, and also believe what I'm telling myself. Instead, we often *shroud* lots of what we tell ourselves in such a way that its untruth is not self-evident. So here I am with a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies. I like them a lot, and although I know on some level that I shouldn't eat very many, I'm *extremely* clever at coming up reasons why I can have just one more. (Had a rough day, will run an extra mile tomorrow, raisins are pretty good for you, you know the drill.) So I might convince myself that I can clear the plate. But to do that I have to somehow shroud the fact that I know on some level that I shouldn't. The upshot is that a direct answer to your question is: Some people (maybe most of us) believe things that we know on some level are lies (but...

Thank you for your question. It is not exactly clear to me what sorts of things you are concerned about. Is it about expressing things verbally, or is it defining words or phrases? Your question touches on both issues. However, I'll first just discuss the issue of defining words and phrases. For the case you do raise, namely 'art', there has indeed been a lot of reflection about whether that term can be defined. This was much discussed in the middle of the last century in the field of aesthetics. The topic does still get some attention, and one thing we now see is that it's by no means clear that 'art' cannot be defined. In fact, a number of highly original and insightful contemporary philosophers (including Jerry Levinson, George Dickie and Stephen Davies) have forwarded definitions of art that have something going for them. I suspect that if you studied these theories you'd be at least *open* to the possibility that 'art' can be defined after all. So when you ask whether we lack the ability...

Thanks for your thoughtful question. People often have different conceptions of the same phenomenon. This doesn't prevent them from talking about one and the same thing. One person might think that Venus is a star while another think that it is a planet. In spite of these wildly divergent views, these two people might still be able to disagree about Venus rather than just talking past one another. For instance, one might think that Venus is shining right before dawn, and the other might deny it; they can still have a substantive disagreement. So too, I suspect the same is true of 'therapy': two parties might have different views of what therapy is but can still have the same thing in mind. How can you tell? One way would be to see if the two parties can agree on putative example of therapy. If they can agree on most or all such cases, then we can be confident that even if they have different *views* about therapy, these are views about one and the same thing. Accordingly, it would be...

Thanks for your questions. I'll address them separately since they're quite distinct. Question 1 I'm not sure that *most* philosophers talk in language incomprehensible to normal people, though I agree that some do. There are a number of reasons for why some do. (1) Some topics in philosophyare technical. You simply can't get very far these days in certain areas of metaphysics, epistemology, philosophy of science (especially including subfields like phil of physics and phil of biology), philosophy of language or even ethics without mastering a lot of jargon. I don't think there's much that can be done about this, since these discussions need to make use of clearly defined technical terms to avoid confusion. In this respect the situation is not so different from math or biology. Here's a big qualification, though: In these cases the discussions are not *incomprehensible*. That would imply that they cannot be understood. Rather, they *can* be understood, but this just requires...

Good question. I have qualms about your claim that in societies lacking linguists and dictionaries, language is nothing more than our uses of words and our reactions to those uses by others. However, I think we can leave those qualms aside and assume this is correct. Even so, the aforementioned uses and reactions would not be possible unless the words and more complex expressions of which they're composed themselves possessed semantic value. Lacking that, utterances and inscriptions would perhaps have "expressive" value as some birdsong does, but it wouldn't mean anything beyond that. Let me illustrate this. Suppose I remark on the fact that you finally show up to a meeting on time by saying, "You're on time!" Here I've expressed surprise or delighted about your unexpected punctuality, but that pragmatic effect, which is not part of the literal meaning is my words, is only possible because of that literal meaning. If I had remarked on the redness of the carpet or the height of the clouds, that...

Thanks for your question. I agree that it's unlikely that the remark concerns the bad guy's moral duty. In lieu of a fuller description of the case, my guess about a reasonable gloss of that remark would be: it would have been in the bad guy's *interest* to kill him when he had the chance. Note that something can be in a person's interest even if it is immoral. For instance, it's in a sadist's interest to control and torture people, given his desires; that is of course compatible with the fact that it is immoral for him to control and torture people. Philosophers like to distinguish between prudential and moral norms, where the former have to do with a person's interests, whatever they may be. So it's prudent for the sadist to torture, even if it's wrong for him to do so. One other thing to keep in mind, I suggest, is that cases like these, even when represented in film, can be awfully complex, and good movies often bring a lot of moral ambiguity to the table. As a result, it is not...

Thank you for your excellent question. Assuming that your evidence about Neanderthals is approximately right, I think that you are asking not so much the question whether they are human--that tends to be understood as the question whether they are members of the species Homo sapiens, which they are not--but rather whether they are *persons*. Some people will indeed put forth the use of natural language (like Hopi, Swahili, or French) as the defining characteristic for being a person. However, that is problematic because, for instance, many autistic individuals are incapable of language--yet most would count them as persons nonetheless. By the same token, the Great Apes Project holds that non-human great apes, such as gorillas, chimpanzees, bonobos, and orangutans, should be accorded the status of persons in spite of their not having a language. (By the way, having a system of communication is not enough to have a language. See Anderson's book, _Dr. Doolittle's Delusion_ for a detailed defense of...

Thank you for your interesting question. I can't speak very generally here, since I've never systematically surveyed my colleagues on this issue. I do know plenty of philosophers who don't do anything special to protect their mental health. On the other hand, many of us do try some warmup and cooldown techniques. For instance, before hunkering down to hard work I like to spend a little time reading the news as recently ingested coffee starts to take its effects. Usually within fifteen minutes or half an hour I'm ready for the heavy lifting. Similarly, metaphysics is not good bedtime reading! That is, philosophy is not the best thing for getting to sleep, not just because it's challenging, but also because it can give one some pretty bizarre dreams. Many of the outlandish thought experiments that philosophers love to dream of can make for crazy dreams later on. I know a handful of colleagues who follow this practice of taking in only l0w-key bedtime reading, and of warming up in the way I...