Representation was invented as an issue during the 17th century in response to specific developments in the technology of simulation. It remains an issue of central importance today in the design of information systems and approaches to artificial intelligence. Our cultural legacy of thought about representation is enormous but as inhibiting as it is productive. The challenge to designers of representative technology is to reshape this legacy by enlarging the politics rather than the technics of simulation.

Molyneux’s question asks whether someone born blind, who could distinguish cubes from spheres using his tactile sensation, could recognize those objects if he received his sight. Locke says no: the newly sighted person would fail to point to the cube and call it a cube. Locke never provided a complete explanation for his negative response, and there are concerns of inconsistency with other important aspects of his theory of ideas. These charges of inconsistency rest upon an unrecognized and unfounded assumption (...) that seeing entails recognition. Locke’s negative answer to Molyneux’s question is consistent with his other philosophical commitments. (shrink)

Leibniz claims that Berkeley “wrongly or at least pointlessly rejects abstract ideas”. What he fails to realize, however, is that some of his own core views commit him to essentially the same stance. His belief that this is the best (and thus most harmonious) possible world, which itself stems from his Principle of Sufficient Reason, leads him to infer that mind and body must perfectly represent or ‘express’ one another. In the case of abstract thoughts he admits that this can (...) happen only in virtue of thinking of some image that, being essentially a mental copy of a brain state, expresses (and is expressed by) that state. But here he faces a problem. In order for a thought to be genuinely abstract, its representational content must differ from that of any mental image, since the latter can represent only particular things. In that case, however, an exact correspondence between the accompanying mental image and the brain state would not suffice to establish a perfect harmony between mind and body. Even on Leibniz’s own principles, then, it appears that Berkeley was right to dismiss abstract ideas. (shrink)

Although several passages in Berkeley are related to the question whether two or more finite substances can simultaneously perceive numerically identical sensible ideas, it is only in TDHP (247–8) that he addresses the question explicitly and in some detail. Yet, Berkeley’s less than straightforward reply is notoriously difficult to pin down. Some commentators take Berkeley to be endorsing a clear‐cut positive reply, whereas others have him giving an emphatically negative one; others hold that for Berkeley there is no fact of (...) the matter that determines an answer one way or the other. I argue that all three readings find some justification at one point or another in the passage, and all hold a kernel of truth. Yet, none of them can be taken unrestrictedly because Philonous’s considered position is disjunctive: either there is no problem at all, or, if there is one (thus warranting a negative reply to the public status of sensible ideas), it makes equally against ‘materialism’ and immaterialism. I argue that the passage can be given an overall interpretation that explains why Berkeley is entitled to hold that there is some truth in each direction. I propose answers to the questions (a) why Berkeley thinks there may nevertheless be a problem after all, and (b) if so, why he can yet legitimately feel entitled to let it rest, that is, why he remains confident, within the philosophical context of his day, that his philosophy does not lead to solipsism. (shrink)

Berkeley’s Principles is a curious work. The nominal topic is epistemic. The actual topic is ontological. And it is not uncommon to suggest that ‘Berkeley’s system presents us with unique puzzles, particularly at its foundation.’.