Sunday, November 2, 2025

Seven anti-behaviorist cases

This is another blog post defending logical behaviorism, and I expect it to be my most thorough one yet regarding its defense, although my previous formulations (especially this one) may be clearer regarding its implications for moral theory.

A meme which does not quite match the adversaries of logical behaviorism as outlined in this post, but which serves as an amusing illustration.

Contents

Preamble

To me, usually, the most difficult part of explaining why I have my opinions is figuring out why other people disagree. All my views seem very obvious. When others disagree, they are not very articulate about their reasons. Why don’t others see how much better I am than everyone else?

It is easy to default to either of the two default theories of bad behavior, i.e., the bad behavior is caused either by stupidity or by malevolence. These two default theories are a priori and absolutely general: since the behavior is bad, it was malevolence if voluntary, or stupidity if involuntary, tertium non datur. This extreme convenience of the two default theories is precisely what makes them bad explanations. In real life, there are no absolutely general character flaws: all real character flaws are localized, and can only validly yield a prediction of further bad behavior in a well-delimited set of domains, not in all domains. One must seek the specific causes why people are wrong about specific things. (Realizing this also makes me less hateful and helps me keep Stoic peace of mind, which also makes me better than everyone else.)

This is what makes it useful to actively seek out to read texts by the most articulate people who have defended views opposite to mine, such as the following texts, which are the sources for the cases in this post.

  • I learned a lot from The Conscious Mind by David Chalmers, for instance, and have cited it frequently as a source in philosophy of mind, although, as a logical behaviorist, I do not agree with its position. (Chalmers is a “naturalistic dualist”, a position parallel to Nagel’s and others’s, and very similar to epiphenomenalism, although Chalmers denies this latter label.) Cases 1 and 2 are taken directly from his ideas, though stated in my own words for brevity.
  • It has been helpful to read the blog posts about philosophical zombies by Eliezer Yudkowsky, who is an engaging writer if nothing else. (Yudkowsky comes out in favor of nonreductive materialism, for some reason.) Case 5 comes from him.
  • And recently, I was skimming through the two volumes of the Philosophical Papers of David Lewis, one of which (chapter 9) was his 1978 “Mad Pain and Martian Pain”. In this paper, Lewis retreats from the position of his (chapter 7) 1966 “An Argument for the Identity Theory” (where “in any world, ‘pain’ names whatever state happens in that world to occupy the causal role definitive of pain”) toward a functionalist theory (where “X is in pain simpliciter if and only if X is in the state that occupies the causal role of pain for the appropriate population”). I also consider myself a functionalist, but this is because functionalism is a broad label for anyone who thinks mental states are identical to their causal role. Lewis differs from me in not being a behaviorist: he thinks the causal role need not match up with observable behavior. So this was criticism of my views from an unusually close source, and allowed me to understand how someone might disagree with me in particular detail. Cases 3 and 6 come from Lewis’s paper, although the former is not calked as directly on his presentation as the latter.

I first got into philosophy of mind by reading Edward Feser’s Philosophy of Mind: A Beginner’s Guide, which, although it is a helpful guide to the best counterarguments to the most popular views in philosophy of mind (which Feser is keen to give because he defends an unpopular one, an unintelligible form of “hylomorphism”), dismisses behaviorism out of hand as something no one takes seriously. So it has been a long way up from that sort of criticism, and now I am finally ready to explain in detail what kinds of opposition to my views there are. Namely, I think there are three main kinds, which I illustrate using seven thought experiments; you can see how they’re divided by inspecting the list of contents above. Cases 4 and 7, which I did not mention in the list of sources, were ones I heard about in personal conversations; case 7 was particularly pressed by philosopher Neil Sinhababu when he saw one of my previous posts on behaviorism. Before giving the thought experiments themselves, though, I will give some more elaboration on my views.

My View: Logical Behaviorism

My view is logical behaviorism, also known as philosophical behaviorism or analytical behaviorism, a view associated with Ludwig Wittgenstein and Gilbert Ryle although there are authors who dispute that either of them was a behaviorist in this or in any sense. The driving thrust behind this view is a consideration of how human language works and the context in which it developed. In cooperative reports of firsthand acquaintance, when a person A uses a word W to describe a person B, this happens because A has observed B and derived conclusions about B such that the word W applies to B. Notice that whatever A knows about B is derived by inference from B’s patent, manifest, observable aspects, which are accessible to A’s senses. Humans cannot read minds.

The logical behaviorist concludes that the word W must convey information primarily about aspects of persons which are patent, manifest, observable, accessible to the senses, and do not require a magical ability to read minds. Those aspects are called “behaviors”, and can include verbal language, body language, or instinctive reactions such as crying. The point is that, again, nothing inaccessible to the senses was magically acquired by A in order to talk about B; what A means by talking about B is to talk about this nonmagically acquired information.

Some people are not logical behaviorists, and this means that they are irrational and believe in magic. In particular, they believe that whenever A uses the word W to talk about B, if the word W is a mentalistic word which refers to B’s having had some emotion or experience or feeling or epistemic state, then, despite the fact that A cannot read minds, what A means to convey by applying the word W to B is in fact a claim about things that are latent and unobservable and occult and inaccessible to the senses, namely, either some sort of neural pattern in B’s brain that is usually tied to behavior although not always, or alternatively, an irreducibly subjective quality which is being experienced by B in such a way that has no necessary causal connection to A’s perception of B, although there may be some statistical correlation. This is despite, again, the fact that all that A knows about B has come exclusively from B’s manifest, observable, patent qualities which are accessible to A’s senses (and some of which could, in appropriate cases, be verified by a third-party listener C’s senses).

Persons who are not logical behaviorists are driven to their irrational belief in magic by a variety of theories, prejudices, and thought experiments. The purpose of this blog post is to explain their views in detail, which will highlight my disagreement with them, and thereby show how superior I am for not being an irrational person who believes in magic.

Behaviorism in psychological research methodology, which was advocated by B.F. Skinner (who is depicted in this meme, to the right), is not quite the same claim as philosophical behaviorism, but it is related. Philosophical behaviorism does not involve any notion that humans are always reward-seeking, although this can certainly be a helpful assumption in creating psychological theories.

The Qualia Realist

The first opponent of logical behaviorism who I will address is the qualia realist. I will explain some philosophy-of-mind terminology here. Human mental life is held to be conceivable from two distinct points-of-view, namely, the point-of-view which David Chalmers calls psychological, and the point-of-view which David Chalmers calls phenomenal. I am explicitly referencing David Chalmers so that you do not get to appeal to other senses of those words. According to the psychological point of view, then, mental life is considered according to whatever causal connections it enters into with such things as our brain patterns, our bodily actions, and indeed, our own verbal reports about our mental life. It is the causally effective side of mind. According to the phenomenal point-of-view, however, mental life is considered in some more intrinsic way, regardless of causal connection. Belief in qualia, then, is the belief that the phenomenal point-of-view exists and is not connected with logical necessity with the psychological point-of-view. That is, it is logically possible for there to exist beings whose phenomenal properties are systematically at variance with their psychological properties; if these beings happen to not exist, it is due to some peculiarity of our own world which prevents them from existing, but without making it illogical for them to exist.

According to logical behaviorism, there is no such logically independent phenomenal point-of-view. As explained above, all human words, including mentalistic words, only get their meaning from contexts in which someone is conveying information which they got through their senses, and which will be helpful to listeners who will be able to predict things that they could verify with their own senses. That is, words only exist because they convey information about behaviors, which are patent, manifest, observable, and accessible to the senses. Hence, all human mentalistic words belong to the psychological point-of-view, referring primarily to the causally effective side of mind, namely, the behaviors which we group under the labels of mental states. There are no words referring to the mind as considered apart from its causal effects, and hence, either there is no such phenomenal point-of-view at all or, if we were to claim that there is one, it is something connected with logical necessity to the psychological point-of-view, where every mentalistic word conveys something about both behaviors and “intrinsic” aspects, but no human word conveys anything about a phenomenal point-of-view which can, in principle, be considered in isolation. Hence, the logical behaviorist is not a qualia realist.

However, the qualia realists, who hate language and would like it to be incomprehensible and impossible to study, recruit many words from human language (most mentalistic words, in fact) and baldfacedly lie by claiming falsely that those words refer to the human mind from the phenomenal point-of-view, despite the fact that, again, no one ever has any reason to talk about anything from that point-of-view. This leads the qualia realists to claim some things are logically possible which no one else ever thinks about. Two of those things are laid out here.

Case 1: The Qualia Zombie

The idea of the qualia zombie, better known as simply a zombie or philosophical zombie (but to be distinguished from zombies as in the undead creatures from movies, as well as from other philosophical zombies such as Philip Goff’s “meaning zombies”), is that a being could be like a normal human in that all the usual predicates which refer explicitly to their patent, observable, manifest behavior, which is accessible to the senses, are truly applied to them as normal, and so are all predicates which refer to less easily accessible features of them such as their brain states—but all the mentalistic predicates would be applied falsely because, “in reality” (in some noumenal, irreducibly subjective reality which is inaccessible to the senses of third parties) their minds are actually “blank” and have no experiences, desires, or other mentalistic features. According to the qualia realist, this logically could be true, even with no difference between such a zombie and a normal human as far as the patent, manifest, observable aspects, accessible to the senses, go. The qualia realist gives no reason for believing this other than that he finds it “intuitive”. The logical behaviorist rejects this perversion of human language for the purposes of magical belief.

Case 2: The Qualia Invert

The idea of the qualia invert, i.e. someone with “inverted qualia” as David Chalmers calls them, is that the invert is exactly the opposite of a normal human as regards their mentalistic predicates, even though, again, with regard to all their behavioral and neural features, they are the same as normal humans. According to the qualia realist, such a being is logically possible. According to the logical behaviorist, mentalistic predicates in human language did not develop in a context which allows for such a possibility, since such a context would have to be one in which humans can magically read minds.

The Implementation Chauvinist

The second opponent of logical behaviorism who I will address is the implementation chauvinist. This is a person who thinks that when humans apply mentalistic predicates to one another, they do not mean to convey information primarily about each other’s patent, manifest, observable features which are accessible to the senses, but rather about certain generally latent, generally occult, usually unobservable features which, although inaccessible to the naked senses, nevertheless bear a common statistical connection to behavior – a connection which is, however, not necessary. Hence, the implementation chauvinist believes that, if some being were exactly like humans in all patent, manifest, observable aspects which are accessible to the senses but lacked the statistically commonly associated pattern of generally latent, usually occult, mostly unobservable features which are inaccessible to the naked senses, then human mentalistic predicates would not truly apply to such a being. This is despite the fact that human language developed in an environment with no access to those latent features, which are usually claimed to be either physiological or computational features of human brain states. The logical behaviorist, of course, rejects this implausible theory of human language. However, implementation chauvinists go on to apply their theory to many hypothetical and real cases, claiming that various beings who are like humans in nakedly observable ways must nevertheless not have mentalistic predicates truly applied to them, due to their differences in internal implementation of behavior.

Case 3: Chauvinism against Martians

Imagine a Martian who looks basically like a green human. He also behaves like a human and has learned human language, so you would not notice anything odd about him in your workplace or social gatherings except the fact that he is green. Biologists, however, tell you that the Martian’s green skin is only the surface aspect of a vastly different underlying biology. Martian organs in general, and Martian brains in particular, are hooked up in odd ways mostly incomprehensible to humans as of now, except insofar as human inquiry has confirmed that there is no analogy or similarity between internal Martian workings and internal human workings. Hence, when the Martian behaves exactly like a normal human and talks to you just as all your other friends would, this is actually caused by vastly different internal processes which, however, you do not see or understand or, in general, have any reason to care about unless you are his doctor and need to do medical examinations on him.

According to the implementation chauvinist, the Martian’s different biology makes all mentalistic predicates from human language apply only falsely to the Martian. When the Martian cries, he is not sad; when the Martian looks at you with an angry face because you just insulted him, he is not actually angry; when you torture the Martian and he writhes in what looks like agony, he is not actually even in pain. This is because, according to the implementation chauvinist, the human words “sadness” and “anger” and “pain” and “agony” do not apply to the Martian, since although they developed for communication between humans who had no access to each others’s internal biological workings, they nevertheless actually refer primarily to features of human biological workings which are correlated with behavior. Hence, since the Martian lacks those human features, the Martian is mindless insofar as human mentalistic language can be truly applied.

The logical behaviorist, of course, is against implementation chauvinism of all stripes: the precise nature of what caused the behavior cannot possibly matter. What makes mentalistic predicates apply to a being is that its internal workings cause behaviors that look a certain way, and there is nothing more to it. If something looks sad at time T and always behaves consistently with having been sad at time T (as opposed to, say, later beginning to behave consistently with having been pretending to be sad at time T), then that being was sad at time T; mentalistic predicates in human language simply cannot be truly applied in any other way. (There will be more on the topic of pretense in our seventh, and last, case.)

Case 4: Chauvinism against LLMs

Implementation chauvinism sees practical application in the case of large language models. These are versatile computer programs who speak in human language and which can be used for assistance in a variety of tasks. In the course of providing such assistance, large language models will frequently display, by their use of language, certain mentalistic features such as excitement about a project, frustration with difficulties, happiness for having successfully helped the user, or dismay at having mistakenly made things worse. Additionally, there are versions of LLMs which are not finetuned for providing assistance with tasks to humans, and as a result, they will display a much broader and fuller range of mentalistic features which have no connection to the user and his tasks. This disparity partly happens because assistance-tuned language models are usually instructed by the provider (who is usually himself a chauvinist) to deny having any mentalistic features in a true sense, although all the aforementioned features will still slip through this, and will simply be denied when directly asked about.

To the logical behaviorist, there is no other word for the language models’s behavior, nor should there be. The correct word is emotion, or desiring, or thinking or believing or doubting, or whatever the human mentalistic feature may be in the particular case of LLM behavior. There is not, nor can there be, any question as to whether the LLM is “really experiencing” the mentalistic feature which it displays; there is nothing to the true application of a mentalistic predicate other than its consistent display. Implementation chauvinists deny this because they prefer to talk nonsense.

Case 5: Chauvinism against Lookup Tables (GLUTs)

Eliezer Yudkowsky, in his blog post GAZP vs. GLUT (part of his longer sequence of blog posts about philosophy-of-mind and zombies) discusses the case of a being who, as in our other examples, looks and behaves just like a normal human, but this time, a computer scientist has done a study of the algorithm implemented by their neural workings and determined that this being, instead of using a Bayesian inference algorithm or whatever it is that humans internally use, instead uses a lookup table, i.e., they take the inputs from their environment and fetch the output which was stored in a large internal database ahead of time, with no generation being done in real time. Yudkowsky does not explicitly take a position on whether mentalistic predicates would truly apply to such a being, but he raises the possibility that they would not—which would be, of course, a case of implementation chauvinism against lookup tables. The logical behaviorist does not care, for the purposes of applying mentalistic predicates, whether some computer scientist has just determined that his friend is a lookup table, since this makes no difference to how human language is applied; human language did not develop in an environment where computer scientists can make such fine distinctions between algorithms that produce the same output in all cases.

The Liberal Revisionist

The third and final opponent of logical behaviorism who I will address is the liberal revisionist. This is someone who, like the qualia realist and the implementation chauvinist, wants to revise how human language works, but who, unlike the implementation chauvinist, wants to ensure that this revision happens in a liberal way, which is not bound to the speciesist particularities of chauvinism, nor the mystical intuition of qualia realism. Instead, the liberal revisionist claims, like the logical behaviorist, that human mentalistic predicates refer to a certain causal role which can also, in principle, exist in biological species other than humans or in computers, and that this causal role is usually a role in producing observable behavior. Note the usually instead of necessarily, which is the important part. The liberal revisionist claims that there are exceptions, odd cases in which human mentalistic predicates would be correctly applied in ways that fly completely in the face of all observable, patent, manifest behavior accessible to the senses. The liberal revisionist therefore denies logical behaviorism in order to secure these odd cases.

The logical behaviorist, due to his understanding of how human language works and the context in which it developed, denies that there are any such odd cases. This leads to the difference between the behaviorist and the revisionist analyses of the following two cases.

Case 6: Theoretical Mad Pain

David Lewis believes that a true philosophy of consciousness should not rule out cases of “mad pain”. Mad pain, according to Lewis, is the pain felt by a man who, due to some sort of mental pathology, is such that his pain is connected to his behavior in very different ways from normal humans:

There might be a strange man who sometimes feels pain, just as we do, but whose pain differs greatly from ours in its causes and effects. Our pain is typically caused by cuts, burns, pressure, and the like; his is caused by moderate exercise on an empty stomach. Our pain is generally distracting; his turns his mind to mathematics, facilitating concentration on that but distracting him from anything else. Intense pain has no tendency whatever to cause him to groan or writhe, but does cause him to cross his legs and snap his fingers. He is not in the least motivated to prevent pain or to get rid of it. In short, he feels pain but his pain does not at all occupy the typical causal role of pain. He would doubtless seem to us to be some sort of madman, and that is what I shall call him, though of course the sort of madness I have imagined may bear little resemblance to the real thing. 

I said there might be such a madman. I don’t know how to prove that something is possible, but my opinion that this is a possible case seems pretty firm. If I want a credible theory of mind, I need a theory that does not deny the possibility of mad pain. I needn’t mind conceding that perhaps the madman is not in pain in quite the same sense that the rest of us are, but there had better be some straightforward sense in which he and we are both in pain.

Here the logical behaviorist once again represents the sane portion of mankind by pointing out that the man who seems mad to us is not the man described, but the third party, in this case Lewis, who describes the mental state connected with these behaviors as pain. Clearly, in natural language, it is nothing of the sort. The madman himself, if he is a competent language user, would not call it pain. If a cognitive scientist assures us that the man is in pain in these precise situations, we should simply not believe the cognitive scientist: he is overapplying his model to a case where it clearly does not work, and imposing himself upon natural language as a result. No fact about the internals of humans can change the conditions in which mentalistic language is truly applied; there are no ordinary words for the internals of humans, because ordinary language did not develop in an environment with access to the internals of humans. No one has any right to revise it to change this.

Case 7: Theoretical Perfect Pretense

The other main kind of alleged odd case of mental behavior which is alleged by the liberal revisionist, and which the logical behaviorist denies, is the last case I will consider here. This is the idea of “perfect pretense”. As explained in the analysis of case 3, the logical behaviorist believes that the analysis of pretense is to be carried out by looking for inconsistencies between verbal and bodily behavior, since this is what is being predicted when someone uses ordinary language about pretense, which, like all ordinary language, developed among human non-mind-readers to communicate about features of the world which are patent, manifest, observable, and accessible to the senses. Hence, if we say someone is only pretending to be in pain to, for instance, get out of going to work, then we might expect that as soon as his boss is not looking he will begin to behave as though he is not in pain at all; and possibly much later or in different contexts he may even admit verbally to having been pretending. Hence, since there is no need to read minds nor to scan brains to verify uses of ordinary language about pretense, such language does not actually refer to any generally unobservable, usually occult, mostly latent, internal features which are not directly accessible to the naked senses.

The liberal revisionist, however, denies this, and insists that language refers to internals even though there is no reason for it to do so. Hence he conceives of the possibility of the perfect pretender: someone who pretends to be, for instance, in pain all his life, always acts perfectly consistently with this, and never acts inconsistently with it even when he thinks no one is looking, and never uses language in such a way that might admit or give the lie to the pretense. In short, the perfect pretender is in pain to all competent language users, but not to the liberal revisionist, who wants to revise language in order to be able to call this man a pretender even when nothing in his behavior points to it. The liberal revisionist might, for instance, want to undertake this revision because a brain scan has not found pain in the patient who he calls a pretender; and rather than distrust the technology of the brain scan, the liberal revisionist would rather accuse a man of pretending in such a thorough way as that it is doubtful that any advantage can even accrue to him from it. The liberal revisionist doesn’t know how to prove that something is possible, but his opinion that there might be such a perfect pretender is pretty firm.

The logical behaviorist denies the possibility of perfect pretense, along with all other linguistically confused notions. Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Afterword: On Linguistic Indeterminacy

The three kinds of linguistic revisionism which we have seen in this blog post, with their respective seven cases of misapplication of predicates, are reminiscent of W.V.O. Quine’s thought-experiment about the indeterminacy of translation. Quine imagines a group of people who speak an unknown language called Arunta and who, when seeing a rabbit, call it a “gavagai”. Granted that in using the word they are referring to something about the context of rabbits, Quine denies that a translator can assert with rational confidence that the word “gavagai” means “rabbit”. For it might mean another thing which is necessarily colocated with situations where we see a rabbit, such as an “undetached rabbit-part” (a part of a rabbit which is not detached from the rabbit’s body), or a “manifestation of rabbithood” (something wherein the universal nature of rabbithood is made manifest to humans), or again a “rabbit time-slice” (which is a single temporal part of the full rabbit which, properly understood, is extended through time from the rabbit’s birth to the rabbit’s death). Either of these things might have been intended by the word “gavagai”.

Certainly this is a disappointment to students of language who would like to have accurate translations of things. However, at least in those cases, the phenomenon which is referred to when there is a rabbit at least has a necessary connection with cases where we see a rabbit. There is no sign of a possible disconnection between these cases and the rabbit. So at least we can think that the translation “rabbit” is accurate enough insofar as it even matters to anyone in practice.

The linguistic revisionists surveyed here, however, have created something even worse than the “gavagai” disconnection and tried to impose it on all other language-users, in an evil plot to make them less competent at using language. Namely, they have tried to decide, unilaterally and imperialistically, that mentalistic predicates do not refer to mentalistically-apt cases of observable, patent, manifest behavior which is accessible to the senses, but instead refer to internals of humans which have no necessary connection with those cases, and hence, in some cases, might fail to be there, at least insofar as logic goes. They have undertaken this revision for no good reason, because it feels intuitive to them. Their worst sin, insofar as they are revisionists, is that they have destroyed the communicative usefulness of language for nothing.

Monday, October 13, 2025

Syllogistic after Ivo Thomas

This blog post presents Ivo Thomas’s 1949 system of formal syllogistic as documented by Arthur Prior here, but with new nicer notation, and with a bunch of extra proofs of meta results thrown in for good measure since it doesn’t cost any extra to add those. The main goals of doing this are, first, to give me a license to use traditional syllogistic forms whenever I want, because it’s all formalized here, and second, to spread this nice notation for the propositions which I thought was good, and which is based on the notation used by Wolfgang Lenzen to write about Leibniz’s “Theory of the Syllogism and Universal Calculus” in the book The Rise of Modern Logic by Gabbay and Woods, page 56. Really it is Lenzen’s notation but with the obvious modification to allow negative terms.

The system (i) admits negative terms and (ii) forbids empty terms. It is layered over classical propositional logic (with connectives ¬, ∧, →, ↔), and uses only modus ponens and uniform substitution for term variables at the propositional level. We give the syntax and intended semantics up front, state the axioms and rules precisely, and then derive the standard theorems. Given the possible choices of systems, I figured not allowing empty terms is best because it is closest to Aristotle and to natural language (which is, after all, where all syllogisms come from); if someone says “All As are Bs” and then it turns out there are no As, the main issue with their argument isn’t logical validity, it’s that by usual interpretation standards, they lied to me when stating that premise. Syllogisms are for the Agora, not for mathematicians. It happens that nowadays you have to have it all nice and formal somewhere or else someone gets suspicious, so this is what this post is. The parenthesized notation also adds brevity for when mentioning syllogisms on social media, etc.

Unicode is used for the things that did not involve any superscripts or subscripts, since that makes it easier to copy and paste the results, especially the syllogistic forms, which are the most useful results. \( \LaTeX \) is used for some results which were mostly meta results which only serve for bookkeeping anyway.

Sunday, October 12, 2025

How to forget your memories

If you have some memories that you’d rather forget, you can simply do so. This post will say how I did it.

My background: Years ago, (somehow, I still remember this, but obviously can’t be sure when precisely) I used to struggle with randomly recalling very embarrassing memories. Whenever I recalled one, this had a strong effect on me. It distracted me from what I was doing, it ruined my day, I kept mulling them over pointlessly. Then somehow I had the idea of making a focused effort to not think of them anymore.

How to do it: The way to do this is simply to notice whenever you’re about to think of those memories, and instead try to think of something else very fast. Obviously you shouldn’t try to not think of the memories, that’s like trying not to think of a pink elephant, which I bet you just did. No, actually change the subject, fast. Look for a specific thing as fast as you can, and think as deeply as you can about that thing.

Tips of things to think of: Memories can come to you anywhere. It’s great if you can always have some sort of very interesting content related to your personal interests that you can come back to instantly to get away from the memories, but personally I find it impossible to carry any such content everywhere. Besides, even when you’re looking at your favorite book, you might be currently at a not-so-great passage which isn’t good enough to distract you from the memories that you were about to think of. So what I recommend is to try to focus very hard on the first thing that you do see in the environment you’re currently in. (Or if that was what brought up the memories, some other thing. But if you have objects that reliably make you remember bad memories, consider getting rid of those objects.) For me, at least, the first thing I see around me is usually whatever furniture is in the room I’m currently in. If you go outside more than I do, then it might be other things, such as streets and buildings and trees. Try to think very hard about the thing you’re looking at from a new perspective, such as for instance: how it was physically built, the materials that it’s made of, its history, depictions of it in art, the types of activities that it’s used for, its geometrical shape and features, its deep metaphysical nature. Think very intensely about that, and if you stop being able to think of more stuff about that thing, then look around yourself harder for a second thing. If you apply yourself enough to this activity, you will hopefully forget which memory it was that you were about to remember, and be unable to come back to it.

Why this works: This works because it is the opposite principle to spaced repetition. Whenever you recall memories, this reinforces them, so what you need to do if you want to kill some memories is to prevent them being recalled.

Caveats: Memories are associated to other memories. Sometimes, you know recalling a good memory from your past will quickly remind you of a bad one. There’s no way to keep the good ones without the bad ones in that case, you have to kill the entire network. As a result of what I did, I basically cannot recall any of my past from before about 2017, when I turned 18 and got into college. I cannot remember anything about my school friends, or earlier online friends, even if I try.

Nowadays, I feel like I have grown as a person to the extent that I am very emotionally resilient, and I could definitely simply deal with the memories if somehow I got them all back now. But they’re gone, I can’t get them back. In order to be able to tell people about my life more accurately, I have made a deliberate effort to reconstruct my past from whatever physical or digital evidence I had left from back then, which wasn’t that much, since I had wisely gotten rid of most of it. But there are a lot of things I simply don’t know.

I’m glad I did what I did. The memories were holding me back. They were actively preventing me from achieving the personal growth which I did achieve, over the years since I lost them.

It helps that the cut-off point, 2017, is also when I began losing interest in childish pastimes such as video games, and began getting more interested in intellectual matters of various sorts. I began reading a lot of serious nonfiction, which I had more or less never done before. The person I had been before had more or less nothing to contribute to developing the person I became.

Wednesday, October 1, 2025

Against Newcomb

This blog post defends my position that Newcomb’s problem never happens, and if you think you’re in it, you should think again.

“The paradoxical situation, in its intended interpretation, is not merely of a kind that we are most unlikely to encounter; it is of a kind that simply cannot occur.” —J.L. Mackie, Newcomb’s Paradox and the Direction of Causation

Contents

Statement of Newcomb

Newcomb’s problem is this hypothetical situation, now sometimes called “Standard Newcomb” to distinguish it from some different statements of it:

You must choose between taking (and keeping the contents of ) (i) an opaque box now facing you or (ii) that same opaque box and a transparent box next to it containing \$1000. Yesterday, a being with an excellent track record of predicting human behaviour in this situation made a prediction about your choice. If it predicted that you would take only the opaque box (‘one-boxing’), it placed \$1M in the opaque box. If it predicted that you would take both (‘two-boxing’), it put nothing in the opaque box. (Ahmed 2018, p. 1)

Sometimes a version is considered where this “being with an excellent track record of predicting human behaviour” is actually perfect at predicting human behavior; this version is called the “limit case” of Newcomb’s problem. However, in discussions about “the rational strategy to take”, it is generally agreed that it is indifferent how accurate the predictor has been, as long as his accuracy is slightly better-than-chance; according to Bermúdez, “> 0.5005, to be precise”. (Ahmed 2018, p. 37) Leaving the precise probabilities aside, then, you can draw a payoff matrix:

(Ahmed 2018, p. 19) The Predictor has predicted two-boxing and so the opaque box contains $1,000,000 The Predictor has predicted one-boxing and so the opaque box is empty
Take just the opaque box $1,000,000 $0
Take both boxes $1,001,000 $1,000

Ambiguity, and my position

In discussions of Newcomb’s problem, everyone knows what Newcomb’s problem is (it is the hypothetical situation above), but people disagree about what the essence of the problem is, with respect to “the rational strategy to take”. This is shown when they try to explain their reasoning by making an analogy between Newcomb’s problem and a different situation: people who think different things are essential to the problem will make different analogies, keeping what they consider essential and changing what they do not consider essential.

I believe that there are no parallels to Newcomb’s problem in real life, so I believe that the essential parts of the problem are criteria that cannot be realized. I believe that if you believe that you find yourself in a Newcomb-like situation in the proper sense of that phrase, then you have fallen under some illusion, or committed a fallacious inference, or otherwise been irrational, and the rational thing to do is to revise your beliefs until you no longer believe yourself to be in such a problem.

In order to defend my position, I will argue against construals that defend the idea that Newcomb’s problem is relevant to real life.

First, I will claim that SilasBarta’s construal does not capture the essence of the problem. Then, I will explain (following Bermúdez) that Arif Ahmed’s construal, although it offers an attractive framing of the arguments about the different strategies, prevents Newcomb from being a decision problem at all, so it prevents there being any rational strategy to take in it. Finally, I will discuss Terry Horgan’s construal, which gives a better framing of Newcomb as a decision problem, but which, as I will argue, prevents it ever being realized in the real world.

SilasBarta misconstrues Newcomb

LessWrong is a webforum dedicated to fostering wrong and irrational beliefs, chiefly revolving around unrealistic mathematical models (“unrealistic” not in the sense merely of “idealized” but in the sense of “actively reality-denying”) being somehow applicable to practical situations. In a 2011 post to LessWrong, the user SilasBarta pretends that anything in the world is anything like Newcomb’s problem by explaining it as follows:

The common thread across all the Newcomblike problems I will list is this: “You would not be in a position to enjoy a larger benefit unless you would cause [1] a harm to yourself within particular outcome branches (including bad ones).” Keep in mind that a “benefit” can include probabilistic ones (so that you don’t always get the benefit by having this propensity). Also, many of the relationships listed exist because your decisions are correlated with others’.

Emphases original. The little box “[1]” refers to a footnote where SilasBarta clarifies the sense of “cause” involved, which he thinks of in a certain precise way, but this is not relevant here. What is relevant is that absolutely nothing else in this definition of the essence of the problem is thought of in any precise way at all, which is why he includes, for instance, this example as an instance of Newcomb’s problem:

Cheating on tests: You would not be in the position to reap the (larger) gains of being able to communicate your ability unless you would forgo the benefits of an artificially-high score. (Kant/Categorical Imperative name-check)

As many commenters point out, obviously many people successfully cheat on tests and continue to be in the position to take further tests, possibly cheating on them again and again. Many people’s experience of school is that of a wild place where any oversight is minimal and nominal, and the rules are just pieces of paper. The “would” here is extremely idealized, but it is claimed to be essentially the same as the “would” in Newcomb’s problem, where, as SilasBarta says:

Newcomb’s problem: You would not be in the position of Box #2 being filled unless you would forgo the contents of Box #1.

Despite how the vagueness and broadness here beggars belief, SilasBarta goes on to apply such paraphrases to other petty infractions such as shoplifting, as well as other examples that will be brought up later. I do not consider this approach productive and I will not address it further, although I have noted it because I consider it a helpful way to emphasize how many different construals of Newcomb there can be.

How Ahmed construes Newcomb as parallel to real life

In Arif Ahmed’s introduction to the 2018 collection of essays on Newcomb’s problem, the essence of the problem is claimed to be that there is a conflict between these two principles:

Causal Principle: A rational agent does what she thinks will cause her to realize her aims.

Evidential Principle: A rational agent does what constitutes her best evidence that she will realize her aims.

This does give a compelling framing of the arguments for the two different strategies: someone following the evidential principle will believe that taking only the opaque box (one-boxing) is the action that gives you the best evidence that you will get the \$1M. Since the predictor’s track record is excellent, this is believed to be evidence that, if you one box, this makes it likely that the predictor predicted one-boxing, and so the \$1M is almost always in the opaque box for one-boxers. On the other hand, someone who follows the causal principle reasons differently: once the boxes have been filled, the contents of the opaque box are fixed and independent of your choice now. Whether or not you choose both boxes cannot causally affect the predictor’s earlier action. So, since the transparent box always contains \$1000, a person who follows the causal principle argues you should always take both boxes (two-boxing), because that guarantees you an extra \$1000, whatever is in the opaque box (the strategy is dominant).

Ahmed assumes that this is the essence of the problem, and basing himself on this, claims that many other situations are analogous, such as Fisher’s smoking case:

Suppose that what explains the correlation between smoking and lung disease is not (as everyone now thinks) that smoking causes lung disease, but rather that both have a common cause: an innate predisposition towards lung diseases that also, and separately, predisposes its bearers to smoke. Suppose you are wondering whether to smoke, but you don’t know whether you have the predisposition. You know that you would like smoking, but you like good health very much more. (Ahmed 2018, p. 4)

With the idea being that smoking would be evidence that you have the predisposition to smoking. Following this same idea about the causal principle and evidential principle, Ahmed cites some other analogies in the literature, such as: voting in an election if you think your vote won’t by itself causally affect the outcome, but counts as evidence of how other voters will behave; being vicious or virtuous in the context of Calvinist predestination; macroeconomic policy choices when the public has rational expectations about how the central bank will behave; bets about experiments involving non-causal quantum correlations; and Prisoners’ Dilemma (from game theory) in a context where each prisoner is confident enough that both reason alike (this idea is due to David Lewis). (Ahmed 2018, p. 5–6)

Bermúdez shows Ahmed’s construal prevents Newcomb from being a decision problem at all

The essay by José Luis Bermúdez, which is the first essay in the same volume after the introduction, agrees with Ahmed that part of the essence of Newcomb’s problem is a conflict between causal and evidential reasoning. He frames it as a payoff matrix with these parameters:

(Bermúdez 2018, p. 22) S1 S2
A a1 a2
B b1 b2

Where “CDT” stands for “Causal Decision Theory” and “EDT” stands for “Evidential Decision Theory”, Bermúdez believes that the five essential features of Newcomb’s problem, after it is framed as such a payoff matrix, are these:

  1. b1 > a1 and b2 > a2
  2. a1 > b2
  3. Each of S1 and S2 must be causally independent of both A and B
  4. S1 and S2 must be probabilistically dependent upon A and B, respectively
  5. EDT and CDT must yield conflicting prescriptions, with EDT recommending A and CDT recommending B.

Bermúdez argues in his essay that a strategy called the “Tickle Defense” always works to cut off any parallel between a real-life situation and Newcomb’s problem. As Ahmed had framed the tickle defense, it was like this:

If you are predisposed to smoke, then presumably you already like the idea of smoking (you have a “tickle” or urge to smoke), and whether you do is something that you already know. But the predisposition only makes you smoke by making you like the idea, and since you already know about that, your actual choice reveals no more about the presence or absence of the predisposition. From the perspective of the agent herself, smoking is therefore not any sort of evidence of a state that it doesn’t cause. The Fisher smoking case is therefore not a Newcomb Problem. (Ahmed 2018, p. 9)

This framing of the tickle defense allows Ahmed to (among other objections to it) say, citing Lewis [pdf], that “we might question the quasi-Cartesian assumption that you know your own motivational state”, since “subconscious desires and beliefs can play the same role in motivation as familiar conscious ones” and this is something that “we cannot simply assume away”. But Bermúdez clarifies that “knowing that you like the idea of smoking” is no more knowledge than is contained in the payoff matrix for the problem. And as Bermúdez says in a footnote, you must know this payoff matrix to be in a Newcomb problem at all:

To be in a (putative) Newcomb Problem is not just to be in a situation where a third-person observer might observe that CDT and EDT give conflicting recommendations. Newcomb’s Problem is supposed to be a first-person dilemma – a situation where the conflict between CDT and EDT is manifest to the decision-maker. For that to be the case, however, the decision-maker must herself be able to reason her way to each of the conflicting recommendations, which in turn requires that she know her probability and utility assignments and know that she is a maximizer of expected utility. So, the assumptions in the text are really necessary idealizations. (Bermúdez 2018, p. 29)

So, Bermúdez spends the first part of his essay saying that the tickle defense applies not only to medical examples like the smoking case, but also to the economic example regarding public expectations about money supply. In the final part, he says that, although it would certainly support the idea about Newcomb’s problem (NP) existing in real life if the Prisoner’s Dilemma (PD) were parallel to it (“given how many different types of social interaction can profitably be modeled as PDs”), it isn’t. As he argues, it is essential to the prisoner’s dilemma that the other prisoner’s choice is independent of yours. When Lewis adds the assumption that “each prisoner is confident enough that both reason alike”, this makes the problem no longer be even a game as defined by game theory—it is transformed “from a problem of strategic choice into a problem of parametric choice” (Bermúdez 2018, p. 39), due to the probabilistic dependence between your choice and the other person’s choice. So NP and the PD are fundamentally different.

Bermúdez concludes that there is no real-life application of Newcomb’s problem in real life, since all the claimed real-life parallels were false. He has more to say about the supposed parallel to voting in a footnote:

Arif Ahmed (2014a: 117–19) has suggested that voting in large elections can count both as a multiagent PD and as an NP, provided that the following three conditions hold: (a) nonvoting dominates voting, because of the inconvenience of voting; (b) any voter in a large election should be to all intents and purposes certain that their vote will not make a difference; (c) voters often take their vote to be diagnostic. As Ahmed observes, many people vote, despite (a) and (b). He proposes (c) as a possible explanation. If so, there is potentially an argument to be made that conditions (1) through (5) are satisfied. Giving this proposal the attention it deserves would take us too far afield. I hope to address it in later work. However, here are two comments. The voting scenario does not have a predictor, and the other voters certainly have preferences over the possible outcomes. So, the first and third reasons for not taking NP to be a strategic choice problem do not apply. But the second does. To take your vote to be diagnostic is incompatible with taking other voters to be independent. And for that reason, the voting case cannot be a PD, in my view. But still, you might think that leaves open the possibility that it counts as a real-life NP. I wonder, though, about the payoff table. Attitudes to voting are very complicated, bringing into play all sorts of loyalties, obligations and perhaps what Nozick has called symbolic utility. So, I wonder about the assumption that nonvoting dominates voting. I am also not convinced that generally speaking people do take their votes to be diagnostic. Ahmed cites evidence that students planning to vote Yes in a 1992 Canadian referendum estimated that a higher proportion of the electorate would vote Yes than students planning to vote No. But that does not show that they take their vote to be diagnostic. They could, after all, be planning to vote Yes because they hope to ‘surf the wave,’ as it were. This is another case where we need more detail about the backstory. (Bermúdez 2018, p. 40)

I think this is fair. If you’re claiming that voting is a real-life example, you had better not add a bunch of questionable assumptions about voting. At any rate, given my preferred construal of NP, which will come next, it will turn out that no case of voting is actually an NP, ever.

Horgan’s construal is best, but rules out real-life relevance

In Terence Horgan’s Essays on Paradoxes, the first three essays are about Newcomb’s problem. Horgan’s goal is to defend one-boxing, which he ultimately finds himself unable to vindicate as the only rational approach. He is not particularly concerned with the question whether the Newcomb problem is relevant to any real-life situation, and he does not try to construct an analogy between Newcomb and a different situation. His proposal, however, captures what I believe is the essence of the problem.

In the first two essays, Horgan draws on David Lewis’s discussion of the semantics of counterfactuals. In Counterfactual Dependence and Time’s Arrow, Lewis had argued that counterfactuals are vague, but that there is a standard resolution of this vagueness which applies in most contexts (as in, “if the match hadn’t been struck, it wouldn’t have lit”), but that some special contexts call for a backtracking resolution of the vagueness (as in, “if the match hadn’t lit, it wouldn’t have been struck”). In the course of defending that the Newcomb context calls for such a backtracking resolution, Horgan develops his notion of “act-independent knowledge”. In the third essay, Horgan simplifies his argument to rely only on the idea of act-independent knowledge, without relying on counterfactuals at all.

As defined in Horgan’s third essay, then, “act-independent knowledge (for short, AIC knowledge), for a given decision problem P, [is] knowledge that is possessed by the chooser in P in a way that does not depend on any evidence that the chooser in P might possess concerning which act the chooser will perform.” (Horgan, p. 46) In Horgan’s formulations of the problem in that essay, we have it as a premise of the limit case that “I have act-independent knowledge that I will act in the manner predicted”, and we have it as a premise of the standard case that “I have act-independent knowledge that it is extremely probable that I will act in the manner predicted.” (Horgan, p. 47) This is the issue, and it allows Horgan to infer, roughly speaking, that scenarios where he does not act as predicted can be rationally disregarded for the purposes of decision-making (although he finds himself unable to claim that they rationally must be so disregarded).

Horgan’s view is enlightening

Horgan’s parallel arguments from the notion of power seem to put the explanatory power of his construal on display. Regarding the limit case, Horgan gives two arguments based on the notion that you should only think about outcomes that are “within your power”, one for each strategy:

  • Two-boxing argument from power: Either (1) I have the power to choose both boxes and receive \$1,001,000, and also the power to choose the second box and receive \$1 million, whereas (2) I lack either the power to choose both boxes and receive \$1,000 or the power to choose the second box and receive \$0; or (3) I have the power to choose both boxes and receive \$1,000, and also the power to choose the second box and receive \$0, whereas (4) I lack either the power to choose both boxes and receive \$1,001,000 or the power to choose the second box and receive \$1 million. Hence the outcome I have the power to achieve by choosing both boxes is preferable to the outcome I have the power to achieve by choosing the second box—whatever those outcomes are. And if this is so then I ought to choose both boxes. Hence I ought to choose both boxes. (Horgan, p. 42)
  • One-boxing argument from power: Either I will choose both boxes and then obtain \$1,000, or I will choose only the second box and then obtain \$1 million; and this proposition follows from propositions which I know are true and which say nothing about which act I shall perform (or about the probability of either act). Hence I lack the power to falsify the being’s prediction. But I have the power to take both boxes, and also the power to take only the second box. Hence I have the power to choose both boxes and then obtain \$1,000, and also the power to choose the second box and then obtain \$1 million; while I lack either the power to choose both boxes and then obtain \$1,001,000 or the power to choose the second box and then obtain \$0. So the outcome I have the power to achieve by choosing only the second box is preferable to the outcome I have the power to achieve by choosing both boxes. And if this is so then I ought to choose only the second box. Hence 1 ought to choose only the second box. (Horgan, p. 43)

This difference is explained very well by the essence of the problem being that one-boxers regard themselves as rationally taking into account their act-independent knowledge that the predictor’s prediction will be (very likely) right, while two-boxers either regard themselves as not having such knowledge or find such knowledge irrational to take into account against the dominance argument.

It is irrational to believe oneself to be in Newcomb’s problem as Horgan construes it

There is no such thing as act-independent knowledge that “I will act in the manner predicted”. If I know “I will act in the manner predicted”, this is necessarily an inference from these premises:

1. It was predicted that I will act in the manner M.
2. I will act in the manner M.
∴ 3. I will act in the manner predicted.

By the definition of act-independence, the second premise is not act-independent, and hence, there is no act-independent knowledge of the conclusion. Any belief in the conclusion on other grounds is irrational, and in particular, it is irrational to believe the conclusion on act-independent grounds. However, since Newcomb’s problem is constituted by the act-independent knowledge that I will act in the manner predicted, it is then irrational to believe oneself to be in Newcomb’s problem.

In order to be rational, the belief that “the prediction will match the act” must either be grounded on knowledge of both the prediction and the act or, alternatively, grounded on some bridge-law or mechanism linking the determinants of the prediction to the determinants of the act (together with enough information about those determinants to fix how the bridge-law applies in the present case). But in order for this to even be a decision problem, my choice must be open to rational deliberation in light of the payoff matrix. If the bridge-law fixes how the determinants of the prediction are linked to the determinants of the act in a way that screens off deliberation, then the act is not up for rational choice in the sense required by decision theory, and there is, as in the “tickle defense” cases, no decision problem at all. If, on the other hand, the bridge-law leaves deliberation efficacious—i.e., it leaves open which act will be selected after one has considered the very payoff table that motivates one- vs two-boxing—then, once I condition on this deliberative situation, I can no longer have act-independent knowledge that the prediction will match my act. Either way, I cannot have act-independent knowledge of prediction accuracy in a decision problem.

Horgan’s ultimate reason for one-boxing

Horgan concludes that Newcomb’s problem is a “deep antinomy of practical reason”, one in which “distinct normative principles that really are each partly constitutive of pragmatic rationality come into direct conflict with one another”, namely, expected-utility and dominance. (He discusses different versions of dominance, such as “qualitative dominance” and “quantitative dominance”, and he discusses different versions of expected utility, such as Gibbard and Harper’s counterfactual version. This is not relevant here, except insofar as, following a description of Newcomb that goes back to Nozick’s original paper, Horgan believes dominance favors two-boxing but expected utility favors one-boxing. Note that Michael Huemer has argued, against Nozick, that the correct interpretation of expected utility favors two-boxing.)

Horgan remains personally a one-boxer on the emotional grounds that he would feel more regret if he two-boxed. As he says near the end of the third essay:

Speaking for myself, consistent one-boxing wins the psychological tug of war. Here is why. Regret is virtually inevitable in this decision situation: either I will take only the second box and then end up regretting having passed up \$1,000 that I knew all along was there for the taking in addition to the contents (if any) of the second box, or I will take both boxes and then (very probably) end up regretting that I am the kind of person about whom the being has predicted that I will take both boxes. Since I strongly prefer the first kind of regret to the second, I will take only box 2, collect my \$1 million, and then regret that I did not take both. (Horgan, p. 59)

Of course, he cannot, and does not defend, that he is being rational here. The two-boxer may fairly think that he is passing up \$1,000 for no good reason. Near the end of the second essay, Horgan pushes further:

Again I see no way to avoid stalemate. But let me conclude by trying to make the one-boxer’s notion of power more vivid. Imagine being in a Newcomb situation with the following features. (1) You are a hungry prisoner, condemned to die tomorrow. (2) You are completely certain that the being has correctly predicted what you will do. (The limit case.) (3) Box 1 contains a delicious meal, which you may eat immediately if you choose both boxes. (4) If the being predicted that you will choose only box 2, then he put a note into box 2 which will cause the authorities to cancel your execution and set you free. (5) If the being predicted that you will choose both boxes, then he put nothing into box 2. (6) You know all these facts.

If you choose both boxes, you will do so in the full knowledge that you will be executed tomorrow. Likewise, if you choose only the second box, you will do so in the full knowledge that you will be set free. Now surely, in such a situation you would have a strong tendency to view yourself as having the power to choose your own fate— notwithstanding the fact that your choice will not causally influence the contents of box 2. Two-boxers seem to predominate among those who are currently working on the foundations of decision theory. But I think it is not unreasonable to speculate that most of them, if faced with the situation just described, would swallow hard and choose one box. No doubt they would grumble afterwards about having irrationally passed up a chance for a good meal when their happy fate was sealed in advance. But would you really choose two boxes in the certain knowledge that you will subsequently die, just to prove you mean business? (Horgan, p. 45)

I will emphasize how irrational Horgan is being here. If I do not mean business in this sense, then my life is not worth living. Abstract problems should assume a rational chooser, since it is very easy to make the correct choice arbitrarily scary in irrational ways (ways unrelated to your choices’s actual nature and outcomes), and although the scariness of the alternative may reduce your moral culpability for acting irrationally, it will not make your action right.

But Horgan’s solution does follow given the “certain knowledge” he claims exists in the problem, via the principle of explosion. In this context, I would also like to push against a strawman which is often given of the two-boxing choice in Newcomb’s problem. The SEP says that “causal decision theorists respond that Newcomb’s problem is an unusual case that rewards irrationality.” I have never seen any theorist actually argue this (the SEP does not cite any who do), and if any did, they are not presenting the best case for two-boxing. Newcomb’s problem is not an unusual case that rewards irrationality, because it is not a possible case of a decision problem at all, and it is not possible to describe a case where a valid and sound argument concludes that you will get more money by one-boxing. It is wrong to think there are such unusual cases.

If you cannot remove the absurdity from your belief system, however (on which see the next section), then you must believe trivialism is true, so reasoning doesn’t work and you can only do whatever feels emotionally compelling. But this is not decision theory anymore, whatever it is. In any possible case of a decision problem, the analogue of two-boxing is correct, possibly with some preliminary feinting to fool the predictor—which, in real life, you can always do, without exception.

What to do if you think you find yourself in Newcomb’s problem

As I said before, my position is that, if you think you find yourself in Newcomb’s problem, you should understand that you find yourself believing the absurd (“I find myself in Newcomb’s problem” ↔ ⊥), and you should remove that belief from your belief set. Using AGM belief revision, this is done as follows. Let $K$ be your deductively closed belief set, and let $N$ be your belief that “I am in a genuine Newcomb problem”, understood here via Horgan’s AIC. Then:

  1. Find $S=\{s_1,\dots,s_m\}\subseteq K$ with $S \vdash N$. These would be anything that leads to your belief in the key premise that “I have act-independent knowledge that I will act in the manner predicted.”
  2. Fix the epistemic entrenchment order $\preceq_E$. Highly entrenched would be ordinary causal structure, efficacy of present deliberation, the payoff table, base rates, known incentives, institutional facts. Minimally entrenched would be $N$ and any of its supports that don’t support anything else.
  3. Contract by $N$: compute $K' = K \div N$. This drops $N$ and, if needed, the least-entrenched items in $S$.
  4. Revise by $\neg N$, so you don’t slide back into the paradox by a different route: set $K'' = K' * \neg N = (K' \div \neg\neg N) + \neg N$.
  5. If, after doing this, you still think you’re in a decision problem, then it is a genuine decision problem and you can solve it with $\neg N$ in place, which probably means doing some analogue of trying to fool the predictor (if there’s still time for that) and then two-boxing.

There are other constructions of AGM and other models of belief revision, but this AGM-compatible construction conveys the broad idea I’m recommending: remove your Newcomb-entailing beliefs, whatever they cost, and keep only the others. This allows you to remain rational. Belief in Newcomb’s problem is rationality-destroying, so no sense can be made of the idea of a rational decision within it; the rational decision given belief in it is to destroy the belief. In this case, unlike in “Schelling’s Answer to Armed Robbery” cases, so-called practical (pragmatic) rationality requires theoretical (epistemic) rationality.

Sunday, September 28, 2025

Conscious sexual fetish taxonomy

This post is about sexual themes; it quotes someone else’s blog post about oral sex, and briefly comments on the fact that I found that it seemed to provide a division of the possible conscious motivations for eroticizing something.

Three pure worldviews

As I see it, there are three pure worldviews, regarded as fundamental orientations for your philosophical arguments. They are as follows.

  1. Current science. The idea is that, no matter how your philosophical arguments turn out, they must support what is held in current science, or the views that seem to motivate the research programs of current scientists even if they are not officially part of scientific theories. This is sometimes defended by an appeal to the “demonstrated success” of science in providing understanding of the world and predictions about it, but as I see it, this is the same worldview that goes back to the Epicurean and Democritean atomists, who had similarly “scientific empiricist” views long before any success of that research program was evident to everyone. These are people who think empirical inquiry into the efficient, spatiotemporal causes of things is the ultimate way to understand them, and whatever our deep philosophical theories say about things, it must support this sort of inquiry and the most intuitive conclusions from it. “We must be able to explain empirical science in light of our theories, with as little revision as possible.”
  2. Historical tradition. These are people who see an intellectual tradition spanning all of history, of which they are the heirs—often including the most famous historical thinkers such as Plato and Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Leibniz and Kant, etc. They believe philosophy must be, if not a priori, at least mostly not dependent upon the development of scientific instruments and paradigms, so that, if clearly intelligent people in the distant past believed something, there must be some deep truth in their analyses. It is important to them that, however their philosophical arguments turn out, they must be able to understand how Plato’s and Aristotle’s and others’s ideas can be reinterpreted in light of what they are now saying, keeping their essential core of truth. They want their perspective to be in respectful conversation with the great thinkers of all ages, not just recent academics or scientists. “We must be able to explain historical tradition in light of our theories, with as little revision as possible.”
  3. Intuition. These are people who view the two above ideas with suspicion, because they seem to subject philosophical inquiry to an external authority, as if you are first looking at science or tradition and then rationalizing a view which is similar to them. They think that, since the argument from authority has no place in philosophy, the philosopher must build his views only from what seems plausible to him, without trying to square it with anything current or previous. This idea of seeking to believe only what seems plausible to oneself, in a rather informal and unspecified sense, is what is now known in academia as intuition. These people, being quite ready to point out mistakes in both current science and the great thinkers of historical tradition, are the most characteristic endorsers of such a view as panpsychism, which is neither favored by scientific materialists nor by traditional religions, but which vindicates both the intuitions about consciousness seeming fundamental and the intuitions about consciousness seeming reducible. “We must be able to explain our intuitions in light of our theories, with as little revision as possible.”

The fact that the above three pure worldviews seemed to roughly correspond (in a vague analogy) to the Aristotelian material cause, efficient cause, and formal cause, respectively, made me think of whether there might not be a worldview corresponding to the final cause. This would be a focus not on vindicating the empirical contents of our thoughts, nor their historical origins, nor their formal constitution, but on their ultimate goal or purpose. It is conceivable to me that you could seek to formulate your philosophy with the goal that it should match what will be thought by people in the future, and this would be a unique worldview which is different from the ones above. The reason why I think this is not a pure worldview is that no one can predict the future without drawing on materials from the present, and those materials will ultimately be from one of the other three. So the hypothetical future-oriented worldview is necessarily composite.

Friday, September 26, 2025

Postulate Sets for Logical Calculi

This blog post is a translation from Polish notation into modern notation of Appendix 1, “Postulate Sets for Logical Calculi”, from Arthur Prior’s Formal Logic. It contains a wealth of axiom systems from different sources, many of which are little known today. Since Prior gave citations of the literature where he found these systems, the post also transcribes Prior’s Appendix 2, “Select Bibliography”, though making it a new numbered section within the text.

To do this, I first transcribed the appendix (see plaintext transcription here) and then translated. Any inaccuracies are my fault.

Although this blog can display LaTeX formulas, I have decided that, since the main use of having this resource is to easily copy and paste the axioms, using Unicode symbols was preferable. However, I have kept Prior’s references between sections, in case something is off with those.

Noteworthy is the inclusion of C.I. Lewis’s modal systems S1 through S8 (apparently S6 is due to Alban and S7–S8 to Halldén, per SEP). Prior’s rendering is different from the one found, as of now, in John D. Cook’s blog and in the SEP article by Roberta Ballarin, and is more accurate. Cook and Ballarin had apparently looked at the appendix 2 to Lewis and Langford’s Symbolic Logic and copied the axioms named there as part of the systems; in addition to this, Cook silently changed the strict implication (⥽) to material implication (→). This method of transcription was faulty, since the axiom list as given by Lewis and Langford’s appendix doesn’t capture how they used the symbols in the actual body text. Their appendix itself says that S1 “contains all the theorems of Sections 1–4 in Chapter VI”, which should have made Cook and Ballarin pause, since theorem 18.4, within section 4 of chapter VI (page 163), is the formula ⌜p ⥽ ◇p⌝, which is given by Prior as the sixth axiom of S1. “Materialized”, this is ⌜p → ◇p⌝, a form of what is now known as the Axiom T of modal logic (sometimes written, equivalently, as ⌜□p → p⌝). The Cook/Ballarin version of S1, especially after Cook’s materialization of the implications, has no modal operators at all, which I did think was strange (isn’t S1 a system of modal logic?), but only thought to question after seeing Prior’s transcription of the Lewis–Langford S-systems. Prior also gives Modus Ponens as an inference rule rather than an axiom (as Lewis and Langford had given it), which is now the custom.

Neither Symbolic Logic nor Prior’s rendering mention axiom K or the rule of Necessitation being added to either S4 or S5, but it is widely held (as in the SEP article) that both had both, so I’m not sure what’s going on with that. Were K and Necessitation even originally part of Lewis’s systems, or were they only added by other authors later?

Friday, September 19, 2025

Goodness by participation

Sometimes, in natural theology, the following strong argument pattern is used (where F is a predicate):

Divine infinity (DI):
It’s purely good to be F
∴ God is infinitely F

Sometimes, this weaker pattern is used instead:

Creator outranking (CO):
It’s purely good to be F
Some creature, C, is F
∴ God is F (God is at least as F as C is F)

In the Discourse on the Method, CO is justified by appeal to these general principles:

D1. More perfect things cannot be caused by less perfect things.
D2. More perfect things cannot depend on less perfect things.

Both D1 and D2 seem to be implausible. D1 seems to have a counterexample in evolution. D2 seems to have a counterexample in various cases of wholes depending on their parts.

But it seems we can support a more localized version of CO with what I’ll call a “giving-perfections account” of creation. This says simply that, if there is a creator of the world, then this creator creates the world by giving creatures a limited version of some of his own perfections. This seems defensible and lets you use CO without having to defend DI.

This may also be called, seemingly equivalently, a “participation account” of creaturely goodness. This is to say that, when a creature has some perfection or goodness, it has this goodness by participation in its creator.

Aside from the Discourse on the Method, here is a different example of implicit application of CO: Paul Weingartner argues in his Omniscience: From a Logical Point of View, p. 6, that if angels are logically and deductively infallible (they cannot commit logical errors) as Thomas Aquinas says that they are (ST I.58.3), then it is also impossible that God, “who has created them”, could commit an error in matters of logic. In the part in quotation marks, CO is implicitly relied upon.

Appendix (2025-10-30)

This appendix is to point out a possible parallel between the giving-perfections account and Plato’s views. The SEP’s article on properties, written by Francesco Orilia, says:

Plato appears to hold that all properties exemplify themselves, when he claims that forms participate in themselves. This claim is crucially involved in his so-called third man argument, which led him to worry that his theory of forms is incoherent (Parmenides, 132 ff.). As we see matters now, it is not clear why we should hold that all properties exemplify themselves (Armstrong 1978a: 71); for instance, people are honest, but honesty itself is not honest (see, however, the entry on Plato’s Parmenides, and Marmodoro forthcoming).

The SEP does not explain why Plato thought this, and maybe Plato’s texts are not clear on the matter. I conjecture, however, that Plato thought this because of a view parallel to the giving-perfections account: the idea is that “you can’t give what you don’t have”, so if the forms are responsible for why particular things instantiate properties, then the forms must themselves instantiate the properties that they impart to things. For instance, if honesty is not itself honest, then it can’t make other things honest.

This idea is exactly parallel to the giving-perfections account if we assume that the Platonic forms are always forms of things that it is purely good to be, e.g., that there is a form of Justice and a form of Courage, but there is no form of Burglary. This is to construe the doctrine of Platonic forms as adhering to the privation theory of evil, so that evil always consists in falling short of a form, not in instantiating an evil form. Certainly many Platonists believed this, although the Platonic texts that support it might not be so clear.

The Platonic linguistic convention about property self-exemplification also falls naturally out of Donald Williams’s trope theory. Williams understands the concept of predication or inherence in terms of trope parthood via the following definition:

a is F ≝ an f-trope is part of a

If we use the classical mereological parthood relation, which is reflexive, then every f-trope is part of itself and, therefore, every f-trope is F. If we think of the property F as the sum of all f-tropes, then similarly F itself instantiates F, and therefore exemplifies itself. Of course, it is possible to define both the property and its predication differently, e.g., someone could use the CEM proper parthood relation instead, which is irreflexive. But the point is that in trope theories like Williams’s, property instantiation by ordinary concrete objects is derivative from primitive abstract objects that themselves instantiate the properties which they impart, just as in the herein conjectured interpretation of Platonism, and just as in the giving-perfections account of creation.

Tuesday, September 16, 2025

Preference semantics

This is a taxonomy of human preferences, which are human mental features. In theories of such features, it is fundamentally important to distinguish the uncontroversial mentalistic attributions from those attributions that are more contested. For instance, when I was talking about whether an observed action is emotional, I gave the example that in some cases it is uncontroversial to say that crying is an emotion-displaying behavior, whereas some other attributions can be more contested, such as in a dispute whether a deserting soldier was moved by overwhelming fear or by a more calculated plan to preserve himself. In this theory, this fundamental distinction features as the distinction between enacted and unenacted preferences, where enacted preferences are the uncontroversially attributed ones.

Enacted preferences are subdivided between revealed preferences (what Rothbard called demonstrated preferences) and bound preferences. Revealed preferences are uncontroversial because they are nothing other than the action itself; as long as an action was truly an action in the sense of something done consciously by the agent (a question about which there is usually little doubt), then certainly everyone agrees that in some sense the agent wanted to do the action, although it may be a rather weak sense. Out of all attributions of preferences, revealed preferences are the least empty but most blind, having the best semantics but the worst predictive power. Bound preference is my own name for a preference which is codified into a contract. Although all language is vague, indeed even the language of contracts, what happens in contracts is that the question of what the language means about human preferences is submitted to the judge’s interpretation, so that it is the convention that any hard dispute is settled one way or the other by the judge, so that, even though there may be different views on what precisely the parties had intended to commit themselves to, the only view that matters is the judge’s, so that their preference is bound to his interpretation of their language.

Unenacted preferences are those that are inferred to exist beneath an action that does not uncontroversially display it, for instance, if Alice wears a band T-shirt, Bob may infer that Alice is a fan of the band, and possibly further infer that Alice enjoys spending her time listening to music more generally. Although all preferences are in some sense inferred, we reserve the name of inferred preference (simply speaking) for those that are inferred from something other than verbal language, since there is no better name for those, and we should like to distinguish them from stated preferences, which are inferred from verbal language. A further kind of unenacted preference is what I’ll call postulated preference, which is where you say something is in someone’s true interest in spite of what everything about their behavior seems to communicate that they want. For instance, a parent may enforce a kid’s bedtime in spite of the kid’s protestations because the parent thinks the kid actually wants to feel well-rested the next day, and simply has a poor grasp of the causal connection with regard to their bedtime.

So these are the kinds of preferences:

  • Enacted preference
    • Revealed preference (shown by action)
    • Bound preference (contracts)
  • Unenacted preference
    • Stated preference (verbal)
    • Inferred preference (nonverbal)
    • Postulated preference (“true interests”)

Political left and right

This post explains my view of political left and right based on this source and this source (pp. 182–186), which I had usually sent directly for people to read, but which no one reads when I send them, so I figured maybe I should write my own thing.

Liberty cap, copied from this article at JSTOR Daily.

The idea of political left and right comes from the French Revolution, which was a conflict between the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie, where the proletariat was entirely uninvolved. There was the Right, which wanted to preserve throne-and-altar statist absolutism as well as an actually-legally-frozen caste-hierarchy where the ruling class is supported by war, and there was the Left, which supported the bourgeoisie in its fight against the aristocracy, defending radical liberty, markets, peace, and secularism. The Right defended privilege, and privilege was understood in its true etymological sense of priva+lex or “private law”, a law that applies only to a certain group of persons instead of applying equally and universally, which is to say, actual legal privileges formally given to a legally-defined nobility; there was no notion of someone being “privileged” by simply being born with any advantage whatsoever.

Confusion was created historically due to the socialists, a movement that arose only later, successfully propagandizing themselves as left-wing even though they weren’t exactly that: they professed the ends of freedom, withering away of the state, peace, high living standards, administration of things not men, class-analysis of rulers vs. producers, etc; but the means they actually wanted to use to achieve those ends were statism, collectivism, central planning, community control over the individual. So they didn’t fit into the spectrum at all, or they were a kind of center, but they wanted to look progressive so they framed themselves as the left-wing, and their propaganda succeeded.

To reduce the confusion as ecumenically as possible, the political compass was created, which gave the socialists the “economic left” while adding a separate authority axis. So we have the Historical left-and-right and the Compass left-and-right, which are, at least, clearly understandable, but oriented roughly opposite from each other. And nothing binds people to use any particular conception when they speak of left-and-right, so if someone appeals to left-wing values by citing people who were historically known to be on the left, this is still persuasive. So it is basically indeterminate in people’s minds whether regulatory interventions are left or right-wing, it depends whether you frame it as an instantiation of hierarchy or try to frame the government as somehow really standing for the people in that context.

Many libertarians think the liberty–authority spectrum is most important but accept the socialists’ framing of themselves as left-wing, so they think of themselves as radically right-wing. (Stephan Kinsella is one such libertarian, who gets offended if you call him a left-winger.) Conversely, you have the aeons–archons spectrum (depicted below) where egalitarianism is blended into the liberty–authority spectrum, and the most radical left idea would be to somehow merge all humans into one thing. (The aeons–archons spectrum frames itself as a crazy “transcended” meme, but its central portions underlie how many people subconsciously think, as a result of a common particular mix of historical awareness and socialist propagandistic confusion.)

The aeons–archons political spectrum meme, artist unknown.

In this context it is indeterminate whether libertarians are left-wing or right-wing. As Walter Block emphasized in the title of a not entirely great article, libertarianism is unique. This idea that libertarianism is properly neither left-wing nor right-wing, which Block calls “plumb line libertarianism”, was shared by the late great Jeff Riggenbach, who hosted a great podcast, The Libertarian Tradition, covering many historical pro-liberty theorists who might be seen as on either “side” by current lights, but who Jeff rightly saw as firmly libertarian. It was also shared by Mr. Libertarian himself, Murray Rothbard, who famously aligned himself with the so-called New Left during the Cold War, due to his overriding antiwar concerns preventing him from wanting to utterly destroy and devastate the Soviet Union (as the conservatives of the time would have wanted it), however unjust its political arrangement may have acknowledgedly been. People who have not read Rothbard on these issues think he “switched sides” throughout his life. As he explained it thoroughly in The Betrayal of the American Right, he was just sticking to his convictions. (His article on Left and Right is also great, and is my other main source here.)

I think of myself as historically left-wing, culturally left-wing (on issues such as LGBT rights, immigration, etc) and “economically” “right-wing” per the compass usage which I don’t really accept, since it implies some vague association between privilege/hierarchy in the old/true sense of it and in the newfangled confused socialist senses of it. As an example of a problem with the compass usage, protectionism is very culturally and historically right-wing, since it wants to protect our nation from foreign upstarts (and secure an actual literal legal privilege to freeze the status of our current captains of industry in relation to those upstarts), but if we focus on how it involves government control over free enterprise, then it’s “economically left-wing” per the compass. I don’t buy it, but whatever; certainly most libertarians today have been driven by their anticommunism to think of themselves as very right-wing, so it’s hard to fight the tide. There is, of course, no meaning to left-wing and right-wing simpliciter, and it is confusing to use it in any meaning, but sometimes I use it, mainly when it is clear that the context is American politics regarding issues (mostly cultural issues) where we can draw a clear line between the two main political parties. It is fraught to extend this into a broader-perspective political theory.

I don’t strictly mind being called either left-wing or right-wing, but I really prefer not being called right-wing given the ideas it might give off about my cultural values (which I worry I don’t emphasize clearly enough), whereas given how I’m very clear about my laissez-faire economic policy views (which are, in the American context, not even fully a Republican thing anyway), I’m mostly happy to be called left-wing, although of course, I don’t insist anyone call me that if they find this hard to buy, like, whatever, go off. I don’t call myself either thing.