This is surely a bit of Socrates' famous irony. He draws the analogy to explain how his friends should regard poetry as they regretfully banish it from the ideal state. But lovers were no more sensible then than they are now. The advice to banish poetry, undermined already by Plato's own delight and skill in drama, is perhaps undermined still further by this evocation of a 'sensible' lover who counts love so well lost. Yet Socrates' image is one of avowed (...) rationality and prudence. The sensible lover imitates the older literary example of Ulysses' tying himself to the mast. (The example belongs therefore to the class of problems treated in Elster (1979)). Both this lover and Ulysses foresee that under certain possible future conditions, their opinions, values and preferences will or would differ from what they are now, in a very definite fashion. To what extent is such foresight possible? Correspondingly (when we do not claim foreknowledge) to what extent is such opinion reasonable, rational, coherent, or consistent in some suitably broad sense? It is not easy to understand exactly what is possible or even logically permissible in this respect. In an earlier paper, "Belief and the Will", I argued for a principle ("Reflection") to govern such deliberation. Here I will both generalize the treatment of opinion in "Belief and the Will" and respond to criticism. Critical examples mainly resembled the story of Ulysses who foresaw a period of dysfunction (at the sound 2 of the sirens) in his epistemic and/or doxastic future. Other criticism focused on the model of opinion used (precise numerical subjective probability) and on the merits of Dutch Book arguments. The present argument will not rely on Dutch Book arguments and strategies, and the Reflection principle will be formulated so as to apply also to vague opinion. (shrink)

The Cable Guy is coming. You have to be home in order for him to install your new cable service, but to your chagrin he cannot tell you exactly when he will come. He will definitely come between 8.a.m. and 4 p.m. tomorrow, but you have no more information than that. I offer to keep you company while you wait. To make things more interesting, we decide now to bet on the Cable Guy’s arrival time. We subdivide the relevant part (...) of the day into two 4-hour long intervals, ‘morning’: (8, 12], and ‘afternoon’: (12, 4). You nominate an interval on which you will bet. If he arrives during your interval, you win and I will pay you $10; otherwise, I win and you will pay me $10. Notice that we stipulate that if he arrives exactly on the stroke of noon, then (8, 12] is the winning interval, since it is closed on the right; but we agree that this event has probability 0 (we have a very precise clock!). At first you think: obviously there is no reason to favour one interval over the other. Your probability distribution of his arrival time is uniform over the 8 a.m. – 4 p.m. period, and thus assigns probability 1/2 to each of the two 4-hour periods at issue. Whichever period you nominate, then, your expected utility is the same. The two choices are equally rational. But then you reason as follows. Suppose that you choose the morning interval. Then there will certainly be a period during which you will regard the other interval as.. (shrink)