How should we respond to the humanity of others? Should we care for others’ well-being? Respect them as autonomous agents? Largely neglected is an answer we can find in the religious traditions of Judaism, Christianity and Buddhism: we should love all. This paper argues that an ideal of love for all can be understood apart from its more typical religious contexts and moreover provides a unified and illuminating account of the the nature and grounds of morality. I defend a novel (...) account of love for all that avoids serious worries about the incoherence or impossibility of loving everyone. Doing so requires countenancing a neglected form of love. Love admits as its object not just individual entities like people and groups; we can also bear a love for the Fs in general---for all the Joneses, all the philosophers, or even all the human beings. I go on to argue that while it is possible for ordinary agents like us to love all, we shouldn't. Instead, we should approximate love for all. The minimal approximation of love for all is, surprisingly, respect; I derive the basic, structural features of deontological ethics (including anti-paternalism and anti-aggregation) from the ideal of loving all. (NB: This paper used to be titled "Ethics in the Shadow of Love" and has been cited as an unpublished manuscript under that title.). (shrink)

Chapter: WHITE PRIVILEGE AND THE COLOR OF FEAR This chapter focuses on the role that power, innocence and ignorance play in maintaining the position of white privilege. There are times when white people use their privilege in ways that overtly attempt to put and keep people of color in their places, but more often white privilege is less obvious. White privilege does not stand out in white peoples’ behavior at all times. When white (...) behavior is normalized, it is masked. At these times, white privilege and power hide behind the masks of innocence and the masks of ignorance. White people can mask from themselves and others their location with relations to power. In the film, The Color of Fear, David C. hides his power. As he hides his power, he keeps his privilege invisible, that is, behind a mask. In this chapter, we focus on the masking and unmasking of innocence and ignorance to get a better look at how the process of normalization of these masks makes whiteness powerful and consequently hides white privilege. The logic of power and privilege is reflected in the following relationship: -/- innocence + ignorance = Invisibility (of White Privilege) -/- . (shrink)

Health care providers (HCPs) are routinely placed into morally challenging situations that have the potential to cause moral distress. This is especially true for HCPs working in the military, whether they are on deployment outside their typical contexts of practice such as in disaster relief (e.g., Haiti and the Ebola missions in West Africa), or in more typically military settings such as peace keeping or armed conflicts (e.g., Afghanistan, Syria). Moral distress refers to “painful feelings and/or psychological disequilibrium” (Nilsson, Sjöberg, (...) Kallenberg, & Larsson, 2011, p. 50) that occur when an individual is aware of a morally appropriate action in a moral dilemma but obstruction prevents them from carrying it out, or when in a situation where they must choose between upholding equally treasured but conflicting moral values. Similarly, moral distress can occur when faced with a ‘tragic choice’ where all available courses of action require something of moral significance to be given up, such as surgical triage in a mass casualty event (Hunt, Sinding, & Schwartz, 2012). In the literature, moral distress has been connected to negative psychological effects and even stress related mental health issues including compassion fatigue, burnout, and post-traumatic stress disorder (Owen & Wanzer, 2014; Gustafsson, Eriksson, Strandberg, & Norberg, 2010; Litz, et al., 2009). (shrink)

Edward Wilson wrote in Consilience that “Human history can be viewed through the lens of ecology as the accumulation of environmental prostheses” (1999 p 316), with technologies mediating our collective habitation of the Earth and its complex, interdependent ecosystems. Wilson emphasized the defining characteristic of complex systems, that they undergo transformations which are irreversible. His view is now standard, and his central point bears repeated emphasis, today: natural systems can be broken, species—including us—can disappear, ecosystems can fail, and technological prostheses (...) potentiate rather than ameliorate disaster when the fragilities that they introduce into our evolutionary co-dependencies with natural systems, and with each other, are under-appreciated. (shrink)

Many philosophers accept a response constraint on normative reasons: that p is a reason for you to φ only if you are able to φ for the reason that p. This constraint offers a natural way to cash out the familiar and intuitive thought that reasons must be able to guide us, and has been put to work as a premise in a range of influential arguments in ethics and epistemology. However, the constraint requires interpretation and faces putative counter-examples due (...) to Julia Markovits, Mark Schroeder, and others. This paper develops and motivates an interpretation of the response constraint that avoids the putative counter-examples. (shrink)

Awareness of, and respect for differences of gender, race, religion, language, and culture have liberated many oppressed groups from the hegemony of white, Western males. However, respect for previously denigrated collective identities should not be allowed to confine individuals to identities constructed around one main component used for political mobilisation, or to identities that depend on a priority of properties that are not optional, like race, gender, and language. In this article I want to sketch an approach for accommodating (...) different kinds of identity within a multicultural constitutional democracy. From a vantage point provided by a definition and explanation of personal identity, I want to show how people define, construct and change their personal identities to make themselves into unique individuals. Next I show how democratic political institutions and the personal identities of individuals reciprocally influence one another. In the final section I sketch ways in which diverse personal identities ought to be accommodated in multicultural constitutional democracies. The conclusion is that a society which gives its members the liberty, space, and opportunity to freely construct their own identities might avoid the formation of closed groups committed exclusively to their own sectional interests. (shrink)

We propose a multi-step evaluation schema designed to help procurement agencies and others to examine the ethical dimensions of autonomous systems to be applied in the security sector, including autonomous weapons systems.

This new study of the “First” Crusade argues that “apocalyptic fervor” (p. 305) was the driving force of the expedition, as well as the Crusade movement. Previous studies, the author contends, have failed “to capture how precisely apocalyptic the First Crusade was” (p. xii). The remedy Rubenstein offers is a relentless focus on apocalypticism that ignores any weaknesses inherent in this approach and overlooks alternative explanations.

According to Jim Pryor’s dogmatism, when you have an experience with content p, you often have prima facie justification for believing p that doesn’t rest on your independent justification for believing any proposition. Although dogmatism has an intuitive appeal and seems to have an antisceptical bite, it has been targeted by various objections. This paper principally aims to answer the objections by Roger White according to which dogmatism is inconsistent with the Bayesian account of how evidence affects our rational (...) credences. If this were true, the rational acceptability of dogmatism would be seriously questionable. I respond that these objections don’t get off the ground because they assume that our experiences and our introspective beliefs that we have experiences have the same evidential force, whereas the dogmatist is uncommitted to this assumption. I also consider the question whether dogmatism has an antisceptical bite. I suggest that the answer turns on whether or not the Bayesian can determine the priors of hypotheses and conjectures on the grounds of their extra-empirical virtues. If the Bayesian can do so, the thesis that dogmatism has an antisceptical bite is probably false. (shrink)

Some of Dave Chappelle’s uses of storytelling about seemingly mundane events, like his experiences with his “white friend Chip” and the police, are examples of what W.E.B. Du Bois calls “Positive Propaganda.” This is in contrast to “Demagoguery,” the sort of propaganda described by Jason Stanley that obstructs empathic recognition of others, and undermines reasonable debate among citizens regarding policies that matter: the justice system, welfare, inequality, and race, for example. Some of Chappelle’s humor, especially in his most recent (...) Netflix specials, but also in his earlier standup performances and his series The Chappelle Show, is akin to art that appeals to emotion in the ways suggested by Du Bois in “Criteria of Negro Art” (1926). Beauty is essential to art, but, “I do not care a damn for any art that is not used for propaganda. But I do care when propaganda is confined to one side while the other is stripped and silent” (p. 22). The “one side” is that which appears to extoll American ideals, but in reality undermines them, perpetuating the subordinate status of “the other”--black citizens. Replace “beauty” with “humor” or “funny”, and we see striking parallels between Chappelle’s socio-political performances and Du Bois’ call for positive propaganda, each of which constitute “civic rhetoric” broadly construed. We no longer live in Du Bois’ America of explicit denial of rights. In many ways our situation is worse, as the mechanisms of exclusion are implicit, difficult to dislodge, because they are invisible. Chappelles’ humor draws attention to subtle undermining-propaganda in our liberal democracy, transforming it through his counter-propaganda into the spectacle that it should be; ubiquitous democracy-denying propaganda should be as obvious to whites as it is to minorities. In his words, we should all see that “that shit is fucking incredible” (Killin’ Them Softly). (shrink)

There is a difference between merely thinking that P and really grasping that P. For example, Jackson's (1982) black-and-white Mary cannot (before leaving her black-and-white room) fully grasp what it means to say that fire engines are red, but she can perfectly well entertain the thought that fire engines are red. The contrast between merely thinking and grasping is especially salient in the context of certain moral decisions. For example, an individual who grasps the plight of starving children (...) thanks to evocative images seems much more likely to donate for the children's benefit than someone who is merely told about their plight. This paper offers a phenomenal account of grasping according to which grasping a content (whether a proposition or concept) consists in one's thoughts about the content being constituted by phenomenal experiences of constituents of the content. This account improves on earlier phenomenal accounts of grasping (Bourget 2017a, 2018) by allowing for partial grasping and generalizing to concepts. The paper also addresses objections to phenomenal accounts of grasping, including the objection that recent developments in AI technology show that consciousness is irrelevant to grasping and understanding. (shrink)

Wall, G. Locke's attack on innate knowledge.--Harris, J. Leibniz and Locke on innate ideas.--Greenlee, D. Locke's idea of idea.--Aspelin, G. Idea and perception in Locke's essay.--Greenlee, D. Idea and object in the essay.--Mathews, H. E. Locke, Malebranche and the representative theory.--Alexander, P. Boyle and Locke on primary and secondary qualities.--Ayers, M. R. The ideas of power and substance in Locke's philosophy.--Allison, H. E. Locke's theory of personal identity.--Kretzmann, N. The main thesis of Locke's semantic theory.--Woozley, A. D. Some remarks on (...) Locke's account of knowledge.--Laudan, L. The nature and sources of Locke's views on hypotheses. (shrink)

On the basis of arguments put forth by (Kripke, 1977a) and (Kripke, 1980), it is widely held that one can sometimes rationally accept propositions of the form "P and not-P" and also that there are necessary a posteriori truths. We will find that Kripke's arguments for these views appear probative only so long as one fails to distinguish between semantics and presemantics—between the literal meanings of sentences, on the one hand, and the information on the basis of which one identifies (...) those literal meanings, on the other. This same failure, it will be argued, underlies the popular thesis that intersubstituting co-referring terms sometimes turns true sentences into false ones and vice versa. Though seemingly plausible, this thesis has a number of counterintuitive consequences, among them that the occurrence of “snow” in “it is true that snow is white” doesn’t refer to snow. An understanding of the distinction between semantics and presemantics suggests a way to develop a semantic system that doesn’t have these consequences and that, moreover, reconciles our intuitions concerning cognitive content with some powerfully argued theses of contemporary philosophy of language. Some of this paper's main contentions are anticipated by Andrzej Boguslawski in his 1994 paper “Sentential Complementation and Truth.”. (shrink)

At the very beginning of On Interpretation (I, 1, 16a3-14) Aristotle distinguishes four levels and discusses their relationships. From this text, we can infer the following: 1. There are four levels: writing, speaking, mental experience and external world. Since writing and speaking can truly be taken as belonging to the same realm, we can reduce Aristotle’s distinction to three realms: language, thought and external world. 2. The realm of language, in both levels of writing and speaking, is different for different (...) people but both of the other realms of thought and external world are the same for them. By this Aristotle must mean that though people of different languages have different writings and speaking words, the things that are in the world and their affections on people’s thought are the same. 3. The relations both between language and thought and in language itself is symbolization: ‘Spoken words are the symbols of mental experience and written words are the symbols of spoken words.’ 4. The relation between external world and thought is similarity: ‘Those things of which our mental experiences are similarities (παθἠματα τῆς ψυχῆς ... ὁμοιώματα).’ (ΟΙ., 16a7) In de Anima (16a8-9; II, 5, 418a4-5; II, 4, 429a10-11; 429a13-16; 429a23) Aristotle describes thoughts as ‘likenesses of objects.’ Paolo Crivelli says that in these addresses Aristotle believe that ‘a thought is of an object just if it is a likeness of it’ and ‘to be a likeness of an object is to be the result of a process of likening of which that object is a cause.’ This, Crivelli believes, is indeed the basis of the sameness of the objects of thoughts: they are results of the same processes of likening by the same objects. 5. There is a correspondence between nouns and verbs on the one hand and objects of thought without co-positing and positing away on the other hand: ‘Nouns themselves and verbs are like objects of thought (νοἠματι) without co-positing and positing away.’ (OI, I, 1, 16a13-14) A. Relationship between external world and thought The following can be inferred from Aristotle’s works about the relationship between thought and external world: 1. ‘The soul is in a way all existing things; for existing things are either sensible or thinkable, and knowledge is in a way what is knowable, and sensation is in a way what is sensible.’ (So., Γ, 8, 431b21-23) In fact, ‘within the soul the faculties of knowledge and sensation are potentially these objects, the one what is knowable, the other what is sensible.’ (So., Γ, 8, 431b26-27) 2. It is the form of the external objects that are in thought (So., Γ, 8, 431b26-29) and the objects of thought are in the sensible forms, viz. both the abstract objects and all the states and affections of sensible things (ἐν τοῖς εἴδεσι τοῖς αἰσθητοῖς τὰ νοητὰ ἐστι, τά τε ἐν ἀφαιρέσει λεγόμενα, καὶ ὃσα τῶν αἰσθητῶν ἓξις καὶ πάθη). (So., Γ, 8, 432a3-6) 3. While external objects are perishable, objects of thought seem to be eternal. (PrA., A, 33, 47b21-22) B. Relationship between language and the external world 1. There is a correspondence between the external world and the true statements about them: ‘If it is true to say that a thing is white, it must necessarily be white; if the reverse proposition is true, it will of necessity not be white.’ (OI, I, 9, 18a39-b5) 2. While external objects ‘does seem in some way the cause of’ the truth or falsity of lingual statements, ‘the true statement is in no way the cause of the actual thing’s existence.’ (Cat., 12, 14b18-22; cf. OI, I, 9, 18b36-19a6) Thus, the external objects reciprocate as to implication of existence with the corresponding true statement about them and thus are prior to them.’ (Cat., 12, 14b11-23) 3. The opposition between an affirmation and negation corresponds to an opposition in the external world between the objects underlying those statements. (Cat., 10, 12b6-15) 4. The correspondence of the whole structure of the external world and language for Aristotle is so that in analyzing the language he shows himself as analyzing the external world. It is in fact a very crucial and controversial dispute whether Aristotle’s philosophy in its very decisive parts is theorizing about language or about external world. In most of his important theories, he begins with discussing language. In fact, language is where he enters the discussion and, in many cases, where he finishes it. In these cases, he either does not discuss external world at all or only derives some principles or conclusions about it. In some other cases he begins from language but ends in external world. a) Daniel W. Graham thinks that language is Aristotle’s ‘model of the world.’ He refers to ‘subjecthood’ as what formally characterizes primary substance and explains how it bases reality in Aristotle: while to be an absolute subject is equal to be fully real, to be a predicate of a subject is equal to be real. ‘Language is not merely a tool to get around in the world; it reveals the structure of the world … the deep structure of language is isomorphic with the world… In this word, logic can reveal connections between elements because language and the world have a form in common. He lists Trendelenburg (1846, 11-13), Gillespie (1925) and (Ackrill (1963, 78-81) as those who have the same idea. b) Emphasizing on the force of τί in Aristotle’s statement when he says that assertions affirm something (τί) of something (τί) makes Peter Simpson (p. 85) to stress, in his interpretation of Jacob’s theory, on the ontological aspect of Aristotle’s philosophy. Jacob says that in his theory of predication, Aristotle focuses on ‘things’ and not words or concepts and predication is a relationship between extralinguistic entities rather than merely linguistic ones; something extralinguistic and ontological. c) Quoting Ackrill ((1963, 73): ‘the categories classify things, not words’) and Kahn ((1978, 248): ‘Aristotle never regards predication as a grammatical or linguistic relation of word to word, nor does he ever speak of subject and predicate as concepts united in judgment’), Fabio Morales says that Aristotle is not classifying predication in Categories but the attributes or properties these stand for.’ d) Graham thinks that the theory of synonymity-homonimity is not purely linguistic, since it is things rather than words that have these properties. (shrink)

Many epistemologists hold that an agent can come to justifiably believe that p is true by seeing that it appears that p is true, without having any antecedent reason to believe that visual impressions are generally reliable. Certain reliabilists think this, at least if the agent’s vision is generally reliable. And it is a central tenet of dogmatism (as described by James Pryor) that this is possible. Against these positions it has been argued (e.g. by Stewart Cohen and Roger (...) class='Hi'>White) that this violates some principles from probabilistic learning theory. To see the problem, let’s note what the dogmatist thinks we can learn by paying attention to how things appear. (The reliabilist says the same things, but we’ll focus on the dogmatist.). (shrink)

In Chapter 1 I discuss the basic problem which made me undertake the issue of human death. That problem was the dualism in the depiction of human nature which has not been fully overcome yet, the dualism which leads to the emergence of new difficulties in contemporary attempts at adequately solving the problem of human death. They include the separation of soul from the body in the moment of death, and the borderline between the moment of death and the moment (...) of resurrection. Chapter 2 is devoted to the presentation of a new anthropological perspective, of an anthropology build “from the bottom up”, that is “from foundations”, and taking into account man’s rooting in the biological environment, and thus also in the genetic heritage taken over from our pre-human ancestors. That anthropology brings new aspects into traditional anthropology by extending it to include new ways of explaining the genesis of the human body and spirit, and new depictions of man’s death. In Chapter 2 I will also present the concept of evolution proposed by P.T. de Chardin, which I appreciate for its comprehensive evolutionary perception of the world. This concept has provoked various responses, but it certainly provides a creative inspiration for further attempts at applying the idea of evolution to various issues. The general framework of the evolutionary model proposed by the French researcher turns out to be useful also when applied to the evolutionary understanding of human death. Chapter 3 contains a discussion of the principal premises of the evolutionary concept of human death taken from analyses carried out by T. Wojciechowski concerning the issue of time, space, and the structure of variable material beings. A being is variable because it has a temporal structure, and the changes that occur are the derivatives of that structure. The temporal structure may be seen as endless, in which a being, even though its existence had a beginning, will exist for ever. Material substance should not be seen statically, but in dynamic and evolutionary terms. In evolution, time becomes a driver of development, an element shaping and directing the evolution of the entire cosmos. Man’s substance has been made capable of two levels of being and acting: the spatial and temporal level, and the endless and immanent level. Together, they form the one essence of man. Thus, the human person is partially immersed in the material cosmos, and partially elevated above it. Chapter 4 presents the evolutionary approach to the moment of man’s death. The views of T. Wojciechowski will be presented in which the moment of death is seen as a moment of transformation and perfection of the structure of the essence of human existence. Furthermore, the issue of the relationship existing, according to T. Wojciechowski, between man’s death and resurrection will be discussed. Understood in evolutionary terms, the moment of death is the time when the structure of human existence is transformed. Death transfers man fully into eternity and enables his life on a higher level of existential being. The element of flesh is retained, but changes its nature. Such view of death allows it to be understood as the moment of resurrection and the culmination of the evolutionary process of life. Death is therefore an “invention” of the evolution and should be seen as a natural and positive phenomenon. At this point, I also propose a solution to the question about reconciliation between temporal and endless existence. In Chapter 5 I take up the issue of consequences flowing from the postulated understanding of human death. They have been pointed to by T. Wojciechowski, but need to be further developed and clarified. He believed two lines in man’s development need to be recognized: that of natural and that of supernatural evolution. Both have the same direction, while occurring on different planes. In each of these lines, death is a natural element of life, pre-planned and, so to say, “encoded” in the cosmic matter. Therefore, the treatment of biological death as the consequence of sin is not only contrary to the evolutionary understanding of life, but in addition artificially combines that which is natural with that which is supernatural. Man’s authentic experience of his own present is a condition of his achieving full existential perfection in the moment of this death. Full engagement in the present is, in a way, a harbinger of the future; thus, the life “here” and “there” may not be inherently inconsistent. In the light of the evolutionary concept, death is not a punishment, but the most positive experience of man’s life in that it enables him to achieve full existential perfection. Chapter 6 is devoted to a substantiation of the possibility of evolutionary transformation of the structure of human existence in the moment of death. An adequate cause needs to be identified which could substantiate that transformation and achievement of perfection. I believe an appropriate substantiation can be found in God’s creative act, interpreted in evolutionary terms. The process of evolution, with its subsequent stages, is only a necessary condition for that “transformation” and “elevation”. The sufficient condition is fulfilled by the continuous creative intervention of God. The concept of God’s creative activity in the moment of man’s death finds its continuation in Chapter 7, where I present a detailed analysis of God’s activity at the time of man’s death. The concept of God’s creative activity extended over the entire process of evolution makes it possible to consider the moment of death as the moment of man’s resurrection. The moment of death is thus a moment of creation in evolutionary terms. Thus, as long as man is related to temporal and spatial elements, his development, or creation, continues. Death is only the completion of the final stage of creation, which may be painful and evoke fear, but in fact should give hope, for it involves resurrection. I also propose that the creative act in the moment of man’s death-resurrection be considered a basic action of God, which explains the manner in which God’s activity is contained within the framework of the creative act, encompassing also the moment of death-resurrection. The final Chapter 8 describes a didactic model illustrating the concept proposed here. I use the analogy of white light dispersion effect in the prism, and compare the incident ray to the creative act, and the dispersed rays going through the prism to the line of man’s natural and supernatural evolution. This model also shows the difference in the perspectives from which the phenomenon of death is seen by God and by man. (shrink)

Even if our justified beliefs are closed under known entailment, there may still be instances of transmission failure. Transmission failure occurs when P entails Q, but a subject cannot acquire a justified belief that Q by deducing it from P. Paradigm cases of transmission failure involve inferences from mundane beliefs (e.g., that the wall in front of you is red) to the denials of skeptical hypotheses relative to those beliefs (e.g., that the wall in front of you is not (...) class='Hi'>white and lit by red lights). According to the Bayesian explanation, transmission failure occurs when (i) the subject’s belief that P is based on E, and (ii) P(Q|E) P(Q). No modifications of the Bayesian explanation are capable of accommodating such cases, so the explanation must be rejected as inadequate. Alternative explanations employing simple subjunctive conditionals are fully capable of capturing all of the paradigm cases, as well as those missed by the Bayesian explanation. (shrink)

The racist killing of Georg Floyd in the Summer of 2020 created waves of protests not only in the U.S. but all over the globe. In Turkey, my home country, there were also street demonstrations that demanded justice for Floyd, but “Twitter activism” was more popular. Turkish-speaking-twitter became a hotbed for condemnations. Amidst an array of tweets condemning Floyd’s racist killing, one stood out and made it to the headlines of alternative media outlets. A former official of the authoritarian Turkish (...) government, Yusuf Yerkel, wrote the following tweet in Turkish on June 5, 2020, in response to Floyd’s racist killing; here, I provide an English translation of his infamous tweet (the Turkish original of which is still available on Yerkel’s account on Twitter): “The reason that protests grew to this extent in the U.S. seems to be based on a phenomenon, in H. Arendt’s terms, ‘banality of evil,’ which has become evident in the face of Floyd’s murder. An ordinary White cop’s atrocity as an “everyday job” was the tipping point.” Yerkel herein uses Arendt’s notion of the banality of evil (see esp. p. 287 of the book) to describe Derek Chauvin’s atrocious act, where the evil of racist police violence has become ordinary, banal, and “every day.”. (shrink)

The Uniqueness Thesis (U), according to Richard Feldman and Roger White, says that for a given set of evidence E and a proposition P, only one doxastic attitude about P is rational given E. Luis Rosa has recently provided two counterexamples against U which are supposed to show that even if there is a sense in which choosing between two doxastic attitudes is arbitrary, both options are equally and maximally rational. Both counterexamples work by exploiting the idea that ‘ought (...) implies can’ and trying to spell out situations in which some inferences are beyond the capabilities of some reasoners. I argue that on a descriptive account of doxastic rationality, questions of whether ‘epistemic ought implies can’ can be bracketed and that at least one of the inferential moves that Rosa describes in his cases is irrational. I further argue that a descriptive account of doxastic rationality is the appropriate notion of rationality that is to be considered when evaluating U. If my argument for a descriptive account of rationality is successful, then we have reason to revise our use of the term rationality to fit this descriptive understanding. (shrink)

Aristotle’s words in the Metaphysics: “to say of what is that it is, or of what is not that it is not, is true” are often understood as indicating a correspondence view of truth: a statement is true if it corresponds to something in the world that makes it true. Aristotle’s words can also be interpreted in a deflationary, i.e., metaphysically less loaded, way. According to the latter view, the concept of truth is contained in platitudes like: ‘It is true (...) that snow is white iff snow is white’, ‘It is true that neutrinos have mass iff neutrinos have mass’, etc. Our understanding of the concept of truth is exhausted by these and similar equivalences. This is all there is to truth. In his book Truth (Second edition 1998), Paul Horwich develops minimalism, a special variant of the deflationary view. According to Horwich’s minimalism, truth is an indefinable property of propositions characterized by what he calls the minimal theory, i.e., all (nonparadoxical) propositions of the form: It is true that p if and only if p. Although the idea of minimalism is simple and straightforward, the proper formulation of Horwich’s theory is no simple matter. In this paper, I shall discuss some of the difficulties of a logical nature that arise. First, I discuss problems that arise when we try to give a rigorous characterization of the theory without presupposing a prior understanding of the notion of truth. Next I turn to Horwich’s treatment of the Liar paradox and a paradox about the totality of all propositions that was first formulated by Russell (1903). My conclusion is that Horwich’s minimal theory cannot deal with these difficulties in an adequate way, and that it has to be revised in fundamental ways in order to do so. Once such revisions have been carried out the theory may, however, have lost some of its appealing simplicity. (shrink)

MANEJO NA AVICULTURA: POSTURA, ILUMINAÇÃO E INCUBAÇÃO DOS OVOS -/- MANAGEMENT IN POULTRY: POSTURE, ILUMINATION AND INCUBATION OF THE EGGS -/- 1. INTRODUÇÃO A produção de ovos no Brasil está próxima de 45 bilhões de unidades por ano, mantendo um desenvolvimento constante em todos os seus aspectos: genética, instalações, patologia, alimentação, etc. Ao longo do presente trabalho, pretende-se estabelecer os conceitos que estão ligados à produção de ovos, distribuição de ovoprodutos e refletir as ideias básicas sobre os programas de iluminação (...) nas galinhas. Num segundo bloco serão analisados aspectos relacionados com a incubação dos ovos, como a higiene e o manejo, o tratamento do ovo e, por último, a caracterização dos fatores envolvidos no processo da incubação. 2. PREPARAÇÃO/POSTURA DOS OVOS A galinha começa a ovulação normalmente a partir das 20-22 semanas de vida, se bem que mediante práticas de manejo (alimentação, programas de luz, etc.) pode-se adiantar ou atrasar o momento do início das primeiras ovulações. A genética tem, logicamente, um papel importante na idade em que se alcança a puberdade das aves. Mencionamos ritmos de postura por ser a oviposição facilmente verificável, já que nem toda ovulação é seguida de oviposição, como nos casos de queda da gema na cavidade intraperitoneal. Aos primeiros sinais de postura de ovos em frangas jovens, frequentemente observam-se certas irregularidades como: a) Postura irregular: longos intervalos entre dois ovos ou mais de um ovo por dia (geralmente são anormais). b) Ovos com casca mole («soft shelled eggs»), sem a adequada classificação de cálcio. c) Ovos com duas gemas. Talvez estes fenômenos sejam provenientes de uma excessiva estimulação do ovário e disfunções do oviduto. Em suma, tudo isto pode ser consequência da falta de sincronização dos complexos mecanismos que regulam o processo. Uma vez regularizada a postura dos ovos, verifica-se que a galinha coloca um número de ovos sucessivos, seguido de uma pausa ou descanso na postura (choco) de um ou vários dias. O número de ovos que põe seguidos é chamado de sequência ou série de postura. Normalmente, essa “pausa” acontece após uma sequência de quatro a seis ovos postos. A sequência de postura de uma galinha pode ser regular, ou seja, que se repete sucessivamente o número de ovos postos de forma contínua, ou irregular quando essa sequência não obedece ao padrão normal, sendo ela derivada. O mesmo aconteceria com os dias de descanso. Como exemplo podemos encontrar: XXXX - XXXX - série e repouso regular XXX — XX — série e descanso irregular O espaço de tempo entre dois ovos de cada série é um caráter individual. Verificações de Menher (1969) indicam que o intervalo médio entre dois ovos sucessivos de uma série depende da duração desta. Em grandes séries diminui o tempo entre dois ovos sucessivos. À medida que a idade da galinha aumenta, as séries diminuem. Também observa-se que o tempo transcorrido entre dois ovos sucessivos é menor na metade da série e máximo no final da série. Uma galinha com uma série regular do tipo: XXXX - XXXX durante um período de tempo concreto permite-nos estabelecer que tem uma intensidade de postura de 80%. A intensidade de postura é definida como a porcentagem de ovos de um efetivo de galinhas num determinado período de tempo. A evolução da porcentagem de postura ao longo da vida produtiva do rebanho nos dá a curva de postura com três fases: crescimento, constância retilínea e decrescente. Define-se como período de postura o intervalo de tempo entre o início da postura da galinha (20-22 semanas) e o fim da mesma. A duração deste período pode ser variável (entre 12 e 20 meses), dependendo de vários fatores. Se observarmos a hora de oviposição dos diferentes ovos de uma série de galinhas, verificaríamos que a mesma se atrasa dia após dia. Este é um fato lógico, tendo em conta que a formação do ovo é superior a 24 horas. Também se comprova que em nenhum caso há oviposições nos períodos de escuridão quando se mantêm programas clássicos de iluminação (porém, é frequente comprovar que uma porcentagem de ovos podem ser postos durante o período de escuridão). O controle dos mecanismos que regulam os ritmos de ovulação e que definirão as séries é muito complexo, então tento fazer um pequeno resumo. Uma vez produzida a ovulação, a presença de um ovo em formação colocaria em funcionamento um sistema «Feedback» negativo da seguinte forma: gema → gera estímulos nervosos → hipotálamo → suprime RH → sem estimulação da hipófise → bloqueio de uma nova ovulação Esta ideia não é tão simples e se desconhecem em profundidade os mecanismos que a regulam. Observe uma figura que detalha melhor a formação do ovo e a passagem pelos respectivos compartimentos reprodutivos da galinha. 3. DISTRIBUIÇÃO DAS OVIPOSIÇÕES Com programas de iluminação clássicos (17L:7N) já assinalámos que a oviposição na galinha realiza-se no período de luz, e que diariamente o momento de tal oviposição irá sendo regredido (atrasado). No entanto, existe algumas horas onde a frequência máxima de postura é concentrada, que normalmente coincide com as 2-4 horas após a iluminação. Se, experimentalmente, fornecermos 24 horas de luz às galinhas, a postura ocorre durante todo o período, seja de forma aleatória ou através os estímulos a determinados pontos de referência de fatores externos periódicos: ruídos, entradas, fala de pessoas, etc., então podemos estabelecer que existe um certo sincronismo. Quando os programas de iluminação que se seguem nas granjas de galinhas poedeiras não se ajustam às 24 horas ou que seguem programas fraccionados, a resposta é diversificada e deixamos sua avaliação até não conhecer os distintos programas especiais de iluminação. 4. BASES DA ILUMINAÇÃO PARA GALINHAS POEDEIRAS O estabelecimento de programas de iluminação começa na fase de recria da franga e dada a influência que a luz exerce sobre o desenvolvimento da maturidade sexual, os programas que se instauram terão um impacto sobre o futuro produtivo das frangas. As considerações que devem ser levadas em conta no estabelecimento dos programas de iluminação são as seguintes: a) Os programas devem ser considerados como uma "globalidade" durante toda a vida da galinha. A instauração de programas de iluminação das galinhas poedeiras deve estar em conformidade com o programa seguido durante a fase de recria. b) Os aumentos no fotoperíodo durante a fase de recria implica um adiantamento no aparecimento da maturidade sexual da galinha. Este efeito deve ser considerado prejudicial, uma vez que esta postura precoce é acompanhada de tamanhos inferiores de ovos (cuja avaliação no mercado é reduzida). Este avanço no início da postura pode levar a uma falta de harmonia entre puberdade e o desenvolvimento corporal (aponta-se para uma maior incidência de prolapsos). Também indica-se que uma maturidade sexual precoce pode ser acompanhada de irregularidades na postura, pior qualidade da casca e até a um maior índice de mortalidade. c) A redução do fotoperíodo durante a recria permite atrasar o momento do início da postura e a produção de ovos é de uma maior dimensão inicial, o que compensa a ligeira diminuição do número de ovos na sua vida produtiva. d) Estabelecido um programa e posto em prática não pode alterar-se o mesmo. e) Nunca diminuir o fotoperíodo na fase de produção de ovos. f) As alterações do fotoperíodo (aumentos ou diminuições) não passam de um conceito de sensibilidade ao fato do que da magnitude dessas alterações. g) As alterações no fotoperíodo afetam inicialmente o consumo de ração das frangas, mas estas adaptam-se rapidamente aos seus níveis de ingestão e suprimento de exigências ao novo fotoperíodo. h) Ações qualitativas (limitação de um nutriente) ou quantitativas na ração fornecida podem permitir, em si mesmas, o atraso da maturidade sexual das frangas, embora não se apliquem normalmente para este fim. O controle quantitativo do gênero alimentício obedece a estratégias destinadas a obter o peso ideal para uma determinada idade de acordo com as normas fornecidas pelo fornecedor das diferentes estirpes comerciais. i) Na decisão final, ao se definir um programa deve-se ter presente: Tipo de alojamento: — Galpão com ambiente controlado. — Galpão convencionais com janelas. Neste último caso a época de nascimento das frangas será um fator relevante a ser levado em consideração. Como aspectos a destacar poderíamos citar: — Durante os primeiros dias de vida da galinha convém fornecer-lhe luz durante as 24 horas, a fim de facilitar a adaptação ao seu novo habitat (localização de comedouros e bebedouros, etc.). — Durante a fase de recria devem ser evitadas falhas que estabeleçam períodos fotocrescentes, já que alterarão a resposta produtiva posterior de tais frangas (especialmente se altera-se na última fase do período decrescente). 4.1 Programas práticos de iluminação na recria Ao longo do trabalho consideraremos sempre uma recria de 20 semanas, embora este dado possa ser variável de acordo com: a) Melhoria genética das estirpes atuais, as quais tendem a ser mais precoces. b) Tentativa de uma maior produção de ovos. No caso de reprodutoras semipesadas, a duração do período de recria pode ser de 21-22 semanas. 4.1.1 Galpões convencionais com janelas Neste tipo de galpão a iluminação externa incide no interior do navio e devem ser estabelecidos programas para combater o aumento de luz natural que se apresenta de janeiro a junho. 1. Programa de fotoperíodo decrescente Para realizar este tipo de programa pode-se seguir esta rotina: a) Verificar na tabela as horas de luz natural (x) que vão dispor-se quando as frangas cumprirem as 20 semanas de vida. b) Aumentar em 6 horas o valor observado na tabela (x + 6 horas) e fornecê-las aos 4 ou 5 dias de vida. c) Diminuir semanalmente a iluminação artificial, de tal forma que quando chegarem às 20 semanas de vida, a luz fornecida coincida com a luz solar. Exemplo prático: frangas nascidas em 8 de janeiro: a) Observa-se em tabela que cumprirão as 20 semanas em 28 de maio, tendo um comprimento do dia de 14 horas e 45 minutos. b) aumentamos em 6 horas e fornecemos 20 horas e 45 minutos a partir do quarto dia. c) Diminuímos semanalmente 360 minutos/20 semanas = 18 minutos e quando cumprirem as 20 semanas de vida, o fotoperíodo de que dispõem (14 horas e 45 minutos) coincide com o comprimento do dia. 2. Programa de fotoperíodo constante a) Para levar a cabo este tipo de programa deve-se verificar na tabela o comprimento do dia mais longo durante as 20 semanas que dura a recria. b) Proporcionar essas horas de luz a partir dos primeiros 3-4 dias durante as 20 semanas. O uso de programas de luz constante em galpões convencionais com janelas não é muito frequente, apesar da certa poupança energética que acarreta. 4.1.2 Galpões com ambiente controlado Neste tipo de galpão considera-se que a luz solar não exerce nenhuma ação no interior do mesmo. No entanto, é necessário atentar-se para que o conceito de galpão totalmente escuro seja levado até às suas últimas consequências, evitando que por sistemas de ventilação, etc., possam existir fugas de luz que alterariam os programas de iluminação propostos. Nos galpões com ambiente controlado seguem-se dois tipos de programas: 1. Programa decrescente-constante Durante as primeiras semanas vai-se diminuindo o fotoperíodo paulatinamente (1 ou 2 horas) até chegar a 8 ou 10 horas, que ficariam constantes até as 20 semanas de idade. Uma variável deste programa consiste em ir diminuindo lentamente as horas de luz e por volta da 12ª semana fazer uma diminuição brusca, deixando um fotoperíodo de 7-8 horas, que se perduraria até às 20 semanas de vida. 2. Programa constante Consiste em proporcionar de 7 a 10 horas de luz constante durante toda a fase de recria (com exceção dos primeiros dias, os quais se consideram de adaptação). Na hora de estabelecer a intensidade luminosa nesta fase de recria nos encontramos com intervalos muito amplos. Diferentes fornecedores de frangas recomendam de 20 a 40 lux durante os primeiros dias e ir diminuindo de tal forma que ao primeiro mês de vida estejam a 10-20 lux. A partir da 5 semana e até 3-4 meses vem sendo recomendada 5-10 lux para que possa, assim, aumentar a intensidade a partir dessa data para níveis de 10-30 lux. 4.2 Programas clássicos de iluminação na fase de postura Uma vez que as frangas tenham atingido as 20 semanas de idade, é preciso estabelecer os programas de iluminação para o período de postura. É necessário considerar, como se fazia no período de recria, o tipo de galpão em que vão residir durante todo o período de postura, bem como o programa seguido na fase de recria. Recordando novamente que ao longo do período de postura nunca se deve diminuir a duração do fotoperíodo, passamos a definir os programas de iluminação mais usuais em função do tipo de galpão: 4.2.1 Galpões convencionais com janelas 1. Programa crescente Consiste em ir incrementando o fotoperíodo a partir da 20ª semana. Podem existir várias opções: a) Aumento do fotoperíodo semanal de forma constante até atingir as 16-17 horas de iluminação. b) Aumento brusco do fotoperíodo às 21 e 23 semanas até atingir as 15,5 horas de iluminação, que ficariam fixas em toda a fase de postura. Esta é uma recomendação clássica de algumas casas comerciais. Em galpões convencionais com janelas, os programas de iluminação constante não costumam ser utilizados. 4.2.2 Galpões de ambiente controlado Neste tipo de galpão deve ser instaurado um programa de fotoperíodo crescente. Às 20 semanas e em função do fotoperíodo que seguiram na fase de recria o incremento pode ser brusco (caso de frangas recriadas com 8-10 horas de iluminação, pode-se passar a 12-13 horas) e seguir posteriormente com incrementos de 20-30 minutos até atingir as 16-17 horas de iluminação. A intensidade da luz durante a fase de produção de ovos é unânime em considerar os valores de 10-15 lux como os mais adequados, desde que exista homogeneidade na sua distribuição. Atualmente, as recomendações das diferentes casas comerciais de estirpes de poedeiras são mais elevadas: na ordem de 20 a 30 lux. Níveis muito superiores não têm efeito sobre a produção de ovos e podem desencadear problemas de arranque de penas quando a intensidade é excessiva. 4.3 Outros programas de iluminação Em instalações de ambiente controlado os custos energéticos representam um capítulo importante dentro dos custos de uma exploração avícola. A fim de economizar energia, uma série de programas de iluminação vem sendo ensaiada, especialmente para a fase de postura, que poderíamos englobar em dois grupos: a) intermitentes ou fracionados. b) Não ajustados a 24 horas. 5. HIGIENE E MANEJO DA INCUBAÇÃO A higiene de todo o processo de incubação deve servir para estabelecer uma primeira medida de ruptura da cadeia de infecção. Há uma série de doenças como Marek, pulorose, encefalomielite aviária, micoplasmose, etc., que estão associadas ao processo de incubação. A higiene de todo o processo deve corresponder inicialmente ao controle na exploração, de tal forma que os reprodutores devem estar, do ponto de vista sanitário, em perfeitas condições e estendê-las ao manejo mecânico do ovo, regulação de entradas e saídas e igualmente a todas as instalações. Antes de continuar com o manejo do ovo para a incubadora, convém recordar alguns aspectos do desenvolvimento embrionário que ocorre dentro da própria galinha: o ovo é fertilizado na parte distal do infundíbulo cerca de 15 minutos após a ovulação, e quando se encontra no istmo (às 5 horas) já se produzem as primeiras divisões celulares. Às 9 horas da ovulação, o blastodermo cresce até um estágio de 256 células e antes da oviposição a formação do tubo digestivo (gastrulação) já está completada no embrião (PARKHURST e MOUNTNEY, 2012). As divisões celulares continuam após a oviposição, desde que as temperaturas estejam acima de 26,8ºC (zero fisiológico). 6. MANEJO DO OVO PARA A INCUBAÇÃO A colheita dos ovos nas explorações de reprodução deve ser efetuada com uma certa periodicidade (três a cinco vezes por dia), a fim de evitar problemas de roturas e de ovos sujos. Não devemos esquecer que a colocação em um mesmo ninho de vários ovos originam modificações nas temperaturas dos mesmos (superiores a zero fisiológico), que poderiam estar associadas a um reinício das divisões celulares no embrião. Uma vez recolhidos, os ovos devem ser instalados num armazém que permita manter uma temperatura de 15-18ºC (nunca inferior a 10ºC) e uma umidade de 70-75% para evitar uma perda de peso excessiva. A temperatura de armazenagem dos ovos para incubação pode variar em função do tempo em que permanecerão armazenados, pelo que é conveniente programar temperaturas mais baixas para um período de armazenagem mais longo. Alguns autores estabelecem que os ovos que permanecerem 3 dias na incubadora podem ser programados com temperaturas de 15ºC, enquanto que os que se armazenam por mais de 9 dias a temperatura recomendada é de 12ºC. Os ovos com problemas de casca, tais como calcificações defeituosas, quebra ou fissura, ovos com formas anormais e ovos com casca lisa e bem formada, devem ser eliminados na própria instalação. A uniformidade do tamanho dos ovos é um aspecto a destacar e o intervalo de peso mais adequado é de 55-65 g. Os ovos de maior tamanho sempre apresentam níveis mais elevados de problemas de casca e o período de incubação do mesmo é superior (até mais de 12 horas), por isso não é aconselhável introduzi-los na incubadora, assim como os ovos pequenos e os de gema dupla. Os trabalhos de Ron Jones (1978) evidenciam a importância do tamanho dos ovos ao considerar que as perdas de peso por evaporação são mais rápidas nos ovos de menor peso, e inclusive assinala que os ovos de casca branca são mais porosos, sugerindo sua incubação separada em função do tamanho. A desinfecção dos ovos (fumigação) com uma solução de formalina é prática corrente (45 ml de uma solução de formalina a 40% e 30 g de permanganato de potássio por metro cúbico de espaço ou 10 g/m3 de paraformaldeído aquecido num fumigador eléctrico), segundo as recomendações do Guia Cobb (1991). Um excesso de gás formaldeído pode ser neutralizado através da introdução de amoníaco líquido concentrado, 20 ml/m3. Pode também utilizar-se uma solução de cloro (500 ppm) a 43ºC durante 2 minutos, bem como produtos com amônio quaternário. Quando o tempo de armazenamento dos ovos para incubação é inferior a uma semana, a posição dos ovos para incubação dificilmente influencia a incubabilidade posterior. No entanto, quando o tempo de armazenamento excede 2 semanas, a incubabilidade dos ovos melhora se eles são virados diariamente. Romanoff, em 1960, estabeleceu os valores de incubabilidade dos ovos em função do tempo de armazenagem, verificando-se que, à medida que o período de tempo entre a postura dos ovos e a colocação na incubadora aumenta, os resultados de incubação diminuem, como pode ser observado na tabela 1: Tabela 1: Valores de incubalidade dos ovos em função do tempo de armazenamento -/- Período de armazenamento (dias) Incubalidade (%) 14 80 21 70 28 30 32 < 10 Fonte: ROMANOFF, 1960. Para evitar mudanças bruscas de temperatura (da sala de armazenamento da incubadora), que podem causar transpirações nos ovos, recomenda-se um aumento gradual da temperatura (12 a 18 horas antes de serem introduzidos na incubadora). Os ovos fecundados que são submetidos a longos percursos até chegarem ao incubatório devem ser mantidos no armazém durante 1 ou 2 dias antes de serem colocados nas incubadoras, melhorando assim os resultados de incubação. Através dos poros há uma troca de gases durante o armazenamento. O dióxido de carbono difunde-se no exterior e a sua concentração no ovo diminui rapidamente nas primeiras 12 horas após a postura. Se juntarmos as perdas de vapor de água, descobriremos que o armazenamento tem um impacto negativo nos resultados finais do processo de incubação. Experimentalmente, o tempo de armazenagem dos ovos fertilizados pode ser prolongado através da embalagem hermética em atmosfera de nitrogênio ou de anidrido carbônico, incluindo o revestimento de óleos. Alguns incubatórios testam o revestimento dos ovos com materiais plásticos para evitar tais perdas, todavia não é muito indicado, uma vez que lacra a passagem do oxigênio exterior para o embrião interior. No caso de nos depararmos com ovos sujos, e apesar dos condicionantes sanitários que vão associados, pode-se recorrer à sua limpeza e lavá-lo com água e algum desinfetante. Se a limpeza for excessiva, deve considerar-se a alteração que pode ter sofrido a cutícula da casca, pelo que não se recomenda a raspagem manual ou mecânica da mesma. De acordo com o estabelecido pelo Guia Cobb (1991), os efeitos mais importantes do armazenamento dos ovos são: a) O armazenamento prolonga o tempo de incubação e, em média, um dia de armazenamento prolonga o tempo de incubação por 1 hora. b) A armazenagem reduz a incubabilidade dos ovos. Este efeito, descrito acima, é quantificado de forma que a partir do quinto dia de armazenamento, cada dia de armazenamento adicional representa perdas de 0,5 a 1% na incubabilidade. c) O peso dos ovos pode diminuir quando o armazenamento dos ovos é de 14 dias ou mais. 6.1 Carregamento dos ovos na incubadora Embora ainda existam incubatórios que introduzem os ovos diretamente do armazém para a incubadora, recomenda-se um pré-aquecimento suave dos ovos até atingir temperaturas próximas dos 23ºC em 6 horas, independentemente da temperatura de partida. Duas horas antes de serem colocados na incubadora, a temperatura considerada ideal é de 28ºC. 6.2 Tempo de incubação Como já foi explicado acima, o tempo necessário para a incubação dos ovos de galinha deriva de uma função de vários fatores, de modo que os 21 dias e 4 horas (508 horas) que são definidos como tempo de referência podem ser ligeiramente modificados. 7. FATORES ENVOLVIDOS NO PROCESSO DE INCUBAÇÃO Os resultados obtidos por diferentes incubatórios variam consideravelmente de um para outros. As causas destas variações podem estar relacionadas ao manejo dos reprodutores, fertilidade dos ovos e na própria incubação. Cada empresa que dispõe de incubatórios desenvolve seu próprio método de operação no processo de incubação e seus padrões de qualidade exigidos nos pintainhos são geralmente variáveis. Vários fatores que desempenham um papel importante no processo de incubação já foram descritos ao comentar o manejo do ovo para incubação: uniformidade de pesos, qualidade de casca, armazenamento, etc., por isso é necessário assinalar os parâmetros a controlar na incubadora e no nascedouro. Em suma, podem ser estabelecidas as seguintes condições: Parâmetros Incubadora Nascedouro Temperatura (ºC) 37,5 – 37,7 37,1 Umidade relativa (%) 55 – 60 < 75 Ventilação (m3/minuto/1000 ovos) 0,14 0,23 – 0,28 Nível de CO2 0,3 – 0,4 0,5 – 0,6 Nível de O2 21 21 Número de viagens/dia < 4 – 6 — Tabela 2: Condições aceitas para a incubação dos ovos e nascimento dos pintainhos. 7.1 Manejo com os pintainhos de 1 dia – do incubatório para os galpões Numa sala convenientemente climatizada, 22-25 ºC e 70-80% de umidade, procedem-se as seguintes operações: a) Triagem dos pintainhos - Eliminando os que apresentem anomalias ou tenham pouca viabilidade/vitalidade, problemas nos membros, bico, olhos, se apresentam-se fracos, etc. b) Sexagem dos pintainhos - A separação dos sexos tem um interesse relativo no caso dos criadouros e criadores, mas é uma operação obrigatória quando o que interessa é produzir galinhas de postura ou reprodutores. Para o processo de separação por sexo podem ser utilizados dois sistemas: — Exame da cloaca, seguindo o método de Masui e Hashimoto, no qual é preciso evaginar a cloaca, mediante pressão, e através de uma luz direta observar as protuberâncias que correspondem a cada sexo. A aplicação desta técnica requer um elevado grau de especialização e os erros daí resultantes são insignificantes. Como regra a seguir, quando se aplica esta técnica, é que sua realização deve estar o mais próximo possível ao momento do nascimento. — Mediante o exame de caracteres ligados ao sexo, os caracteres usados para a determinação do sexo nas aves são vários: cores da plumagem (prateados frente a dourados: lisos frente a barrados), mas o mais empregado na atualidade faz referência à comparação dos comprimentos das penas primárias frente às de cobertura (quando as penas primárias são mais longas que as de cobertura, é uma fêmea). Esta técnica também é realizada dentro de poucas horas de nascimento. c) Vacinação dos pintainhos - Durante as primeiras horas de vida, as aves são normalmente alimentadas por via oral (spray) ou por injeção (com vacina manual ou automática). Vacina-se, também, contra várias doenças no primeiro dia de vida dos pintainhos, como a Marek, Gumboro e Bouba Aviária. d) Embalagem - Desenvolvidas as anteriores operações e já dentro da zona de expedição, realiza-se a última triagem e classificação (no caso dos reprodutores e das frangas, o processo pode ter conotações comerciais e podem apresentar-se no mercado várias classes em função da qualidade do produto, que, neste caso, é normalmente o peso), para posteriormente, contar e introduzi-las nas embalagens correspondentes, que podem ser retornáveis ou não. Nas embalagens normalmente introduz-se uma centena de aves (2 por 100) sem custo como regra de compensação às baixas iniciais. Em todas estas operações, o controle da temperatura e da humidade deve ser rigoroso, tal como descrito acima. e) Transporte - Os veículos de transporte devem estar equipados com sistemas auxiliares de calor e arrefecimento que permitam garantir condições estabelecidas, independentemente da situação atmosférica externa. A temperatura do ar fornecido no transporte deve ser de 28ºC quando as frangas estão em embalagens de plástico, enquanto que se forem de papelão a temperatura requerida pode ser bastante inferior (20ºC), segundo o Guia Cobb (1991). A distribuição da carga no transporte (para que a distribuição térmica seja homogénea), o controle contínuo das condições ambientais e os cuidados na condução e na descarga da mercadoria são os últimos aspectos importantes a assinalar. 8. RESUMO E PRIMEIRAS CONCLUSÕES No presente trabalho, tentou-se expor de forma sucinta os aspectos relacionados com a postura dos ovos: irregularidades no início da postura, sequência de postura, intensidade de postura, curva de postura, período de postura e distribuição de oviposições. O controle da iluminação, com seus diferentes programas, tanto em recria como em postura, é objeto de especial desenvolvimento. Uma terceira parte trata da questão da incubação artificial, começando pela higiene e manejo da incubação. É feita especial referência ao manejo dos ovos a serem incubados, e se resume os fatores que controlam o processo de incubação. -/- Emanuel Isaque Cordeiro da Silva – Departamento de Zootecnia da UFRPE. Recife, 2020. -/- REFERÊNCIAS BIBLIOGRÁFICAS -/- ABAD, M. et al. Reproducción e incubación en avicultura. Real Escuela de Avicultura. España, 2003. CAMPOS, Egladson João. Avicultura: razões, fatos e divergências. São Paulo: FEP-MVZ, 2000. COBB. Manual de manejo de frangos Cobb 500: guia de manejo. São Paulo: Cobb-Vantress Brasil, 2001 CONTO, L. A. Avicultura de postura. Avicultura Industrial, v. 1121, n. 95, 2004. ENSMINGER, M. Eugene. Zootecnia general. Buenos Aires: Centro Regional de Ayuda Técnica, 1973. ESTEBAN, José María Lasheras; ROCHA, Luís Oliveira. Manual de avicultura. Lisboa: Litexa, 1951. LANA, Geraldo Roberto Quintão. Avicultura. Recife: Livraria e Editora Rural Ltda, 2000. LOPES, Jackeline Cristina Ost. Caderno Didático de Avicultura (UFRN/UFPI). Cadernos Pronatec Goiás, v. 1, n. 1, p. 74-173, 2018. MENHER, A. La gallina. Zaragoza: Acribia, 1969. MACARI, Marcos. Manejo da incubação. Campinas: Facta, 2003. MALAQUIAS, Jessica Dantas. Manejo de galinhas poedeiras. 2019. Trabalho de Conclusão de Curso. Graduação em Zootecnia, UFRPE. 42f. Brasil. MALAVAZZI, Gilberto. Avicultura: manual prático. São Paulo: NBL Editora, 1983. PARKHURST, Carmen; MOUNTNEY, George J. Poultry meat and egg production. Berlim: Springer Science & Business Media, 2012. ROMANOFF, A.L. The Avian Embryo. New York: The Macmillan Co., 1960. RON JONES. A closer look at incubation. Poultry International. Vol 17. n° 2. ROSE, S. P. et al. Principles of poultry science. Nova Iorque: CAB International, 1997. WHITE, Fred N.; KINNEY, James L. Avian incubation. Science, v. 186, n. 4159, p. 107-115, 1974. (shrink)

The concept of universal in Aristotle’s philosophy has several aspects. 1) Universal and plurality Aristotle posits universal (καθόλου) versus particular (καθ᾿ ἕκαστον) each covering a range of elements: some elements are universal while others are particulars. Aristotle defines universal as ‘that which by nature is predicated (κατηγορεῖσθαι) of many subjects’ and particular as ‘that which is not’ so. (OI ., I, 7, 17a38-b1) The plurality of possible subjects of universal is what Aristotle insists on. The inclusion of the notion of (...) ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal might make us expect to have ‘singularity’ in the definition of particular. So, when Aristotle says that universal is that which is naturally predicable of many subjects, we expect him to define the particular as ‘that which is predicable of one subject only.’ Nonetheless, Aristotle does not and indeed cannot define it this way. We cannot find a text in which he defines particular as such simply because particulars are not predicable of any subject unless we regard their predication of themselves a predication, which Aristotle does not, at least in a genuine sense. Thus, he defines a particular only negatively. Hence, the capability of predication of a plurality is indeed the capability of predication itself because the particular cannot be predicated of anything. A particular is that which cannot be predicated of anything (or: of anything else, if saying of a thing of itself is to be considered as predication). It is ‘numerically one’ and what of which the universal is predicated (Met., B, 999b34-1000a1). Those that cannot be predicated of anything, or particulars, are of two kinds: primary substances and individual accidents. Besides Categories we can hardly find a text where Aristotle discusses individual accidents maybe because they are of much less importance for him compared with substances. However, substances are what he mentions repeatedly so that we can confine particulars to substances. In fact, it is substance that Aristotle considers so repeatedly as what cannot be predicated. As the main particulars and individuals, substances are posited as the main things that are not universal. The closeness of the two concepts of ‘substance’ and ‘unpredicability’ is to the extent that he ignores individual accidents and makes these concepts equal and as the opposite of universal: ‘what is not predicated of a subject is said a substance (οὐσία λέγετα τὸ μὴ καθ᾿ ὑποκειμένου) but what is always said of some subject is called a universal.’ (Met., Z, 1038b15-16. cf. Met., B, 1003a7-9) Therefore, since particulars cannot be predicated of any subject and, thus, every predication is necessarily a predication of a plurality of subjects, the inclusion of ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal is either i) in the sense of ‘representation’ or it must be regarded as ii) an unnecessary addition mentioned just for clarification or iii) only for avoiding cases where something is predicated of itself. By the first we mean this: though a substance is not said of anything, it represents some one thing and there is some one thing that is that substance. A universal, on the other hand, can represent a plurality of things. There is, however, a third possibility that has no essential difference with the sense of representation. Aristotle might have ‘arbitrary predication’ in mind when he suses ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal: while a particular can be the arbitrary predicate of just one thing, a universal can be predicated, both really and arbitrarily, of many things. Whatever Aristotle’s intention was, what is important for our investigation is this: Aristotle uses the notion of plurality in the definition of universal in spite of the fact that it is not necessary. What this implies is that this notion is so important for Aristotle that albeit every predictability is a predictability of a possible plurality, he adds the notion of plurality. What makes this notion important, I believe, is that he has something like a class in mind when he defines a universal because the notion of plurality is indistinguishable from a class. 2) Universal and whole; particular and part In Aristotle, the concepts of universal and whole are so close: ‘That which is true of a whole class and is said to hold good as a whole (which implies that it is a kind of whole) is true of a whole in the sense that it contains many things by being predicated of each, and that each and all of them, e.g. man, horse, god, are one because all are living things (τὸ μὲν γὰρ καθόλου καὶ τὸ ὃλως λεγόμενον ὡς πολλὰ περιέχον τῷ κατηγορεῖσθαι καθ’ ἑκάστου καὶ ἓν ἃπαντα εἶναι ὡς ἑκαστον, ...). Phil Corkum points to Aristotle’s distinction between quantitative and integral wholes in Met., 5, 26, 1023b26-33 where a quantitative whole is called homoiomerous, as the sum of animal while an integral whole, e.g. a house, is called heteromerous. He links the notion of homoiomerous to the notion of indivisibility of individuals (in 1b6-9 and 3b10-18) and indivisibility of universals. He believes that in PrA., I, 4, 25b32-26a2 it is the transitivity of mereological containment that is discussed. 3) Universal is common between instances Universal is common (κοινόν) between all the plurality of subjects it can be predicated of because what belongs to more than one thing must be common between them. (Met., Z, 1038b10-12) In the Same way, what is common cannot be a particular and, thus, a substance. (Met., Z, 1040b23-24) An individual or substance is a ‘this’ and a ‘this’ cannot be what common indicates simply because it is here in ‘this’ and can be nowhere else while common must be common between several things. In fact, what can be indicated by a common is indeed a ‘such.’ (Met., B, 1003a7-9) 4) Universal is the same in its instances We have a universal i) in all of its instances and ii) in the same way (ταὐτὸ ἐπὶ πὰντων). (Met, Γ, 1005a9-10) While the first point is evident (otherwise how could it be their universal?), the second point might seem not only ambiguous but the cause of many problems. For Aristotle, therefore, a universal must be ‘one’ in number and not many. This numerically one universal is the very universal for all its instances. It is the same universal that is predicated on each of its instances. This sameness is not, however, a mere homonymous sameness or the sameness of a homonymous word. All these three points, namely oneness, sameness and rejection of mere homonymous sameness are asserted in Aristotle’s own words τι ἕν καὶ τὸ αὐτὸ ἐπὶ πλειόνων μη ὁμώνυμον. (PsA., A, 11, 77a8-9) This non-homonymous unity is asserted also in PsA., A, 24, 85b15-16. 5) Universal as predicate Contrary to substance that cannot be a predicate, universal is what cannot be prevented from being in the place of predicate. Therefore, Aristotle distinguishes universal from subject because while the latter must necessarily be capable of being a predicate, though it might take the position of subject as well, the latter does not necessarily have such a capability especially when it is a this because it cannot be a predicate in such a case: ‘For the subject and universal differ in being or not being a ‘this’; like man and body and soul are the subject of accidents while the accident is something like musical or white.’ (Met., Θ, 1049a27-30) This indicates that a universal is basically different from subject and although it can be posited in the place of subject, it is the position of predicate that is its position as a universal. In Metaphysics, Z, 13, Aristotle asserts that ‘no universal can be substance.’ The same is asserted in Met., I, 1053b16-17 cf. 1060b21. As James H. Lesher points out, Aristotle’s position is that ‘nothing predicated universally is a substance.’ 6) Universal in substance In Met., 10388b8-9 Aristotle says that no universal is a substance. While a universal cannot be a substance in the way essence (to ti en einai) is, it is, Aristotle asserts, ‘in’ it (ἐν τούτῳ δὲ ἐνυπάρχειν) (Met., Ζ, 1038b16-18). Aristotle’s examples are: animal in man and horse. A universal is ‘in’ the thing it is its universal. But in what sense a universal can be in a thing? It cannot be in it as ‘in a subject’, which is denied in Categories for secondary substances. If we check the senses of being in, we can find some other senses of ‘being in’ some of which are compatible with this sense of ‘being in.’ Michael J. Loux believes that contrary to his earlier works like Peri Ideaon and Organon in which the immanence of universals signals a reproduction of the platonic two worlds picture, in his later works like Physics and Metaphysics, when Aristotle tells us that universals are in particulars he means that they are ‘components of or ingredients in sensible particulars.’ In Metaphysics (Δ, 1014b3-9) Aristotle compares elements with universals and call them ‘the most universal things because elements are present either in all or in many things. 7) Logos is of universal Not only universals have logos (Met., Z, 1038b18-19) but ‘Every logos and every science is of universals and not of particulars.’ (Met., K, 1059b25-26) The reason is that they are the same: the logos of the unjiversal ‘circle’ is nothing but ‘being circle’ and the logos of the universal ‘soul’ is ‘being soul.’ (Met., Z, 1035b33-1036a2) The same is said about definition. (Met, Z, 1036a27-29) 8) Universal: in the soul Contrasting individuals, universals are in the soul (So., 3, 5, 417b22-23; cf. PsA., B, 19, 100a6-7). Aristotle also says that the form, i.e. the essence, of the artwork is in the soul. (met., Z, 1032a32-b2) Moreover, as Michael J. Loux points out, ‘the Peri Ideon tells us that we need universals to serve as the objects of noetic acts.’ 9) Universal: not beside individual In spite of the fact that demonstration creates the opinion that demonstrating is based on the existence of universals as existing among the existing things, they do not have existence besides individuals (PsA., A, 24, 85a31-35; Met, Λ, 1071a19-23). Aristotle believes that universals of a P-series (B203, 71) are not παρὰ τὰ εἴδη: 999a6ff. Also check De Anima, II, 3, 414b20-25 10) Primary or commensurate universal Aristotle distinguishes ‘πρῶτον καθόλού’ (PsA., B, 17, 99a33-35) literally meaning ‘primary universal’ but mostly, and truly, translated as commensurate universal. While a universal merely ‘μὴ ἀντιςτρέφει,’ a primary universal ‘ᾧ ἓκαςτον μὲν μὴ ἀντιςτρέφει’ (PsA., B, 17, 99a33-35). Aristotle mentions three conditions for a commensurate universal. It is an attribute that i) belongs to every instance of its subject (without exception!!!), and this belonging is ii) essentially and iii) qua that subject itself (ᾗ αύτό). (PsA., A, 4, 73b26-28) However, he insists that the second and the third conditions are indeed the same. (PsA., A, 4, 73b28-30) The first condition he paraphrases as ‘to belong to any random instance of that subject’ and the second and the third as ‘when the subject is the first thing to which it can be shown to belong.’ (PsA., A, 4, 73b32-74a3) Aristotle’s example is ‘the equality of its angles to two right angles’. This attribute is not a commensurate universal of figure due to the first condition: it cannot be demonstrated of any figure. Nonetheless, though it can be demonstrated of every isosceles because every isosceles has angles equal to two right angles, it is not a commensurate universal of isosceles due to the other conditions: it is not predicated of isosceles qua isosceles but qua triangle. These conditions seem to be like regulators: they organize everything to match to the right group. The method of finding commensurate universal is like test and error method based on elimination: you must eliminate each of the higher or lower universals and check if the attribute remains or not. The commensurate universal is that which remains in between eliminated universals. (cf. PsA., A, 5, 74a37-b4) Brad Inwoodpresents an understanding of commensurate universal that is different from what I have understood and, thus, must be checked: ‘These universals are propositions in which, for example, ‘all A are B’ is true and which are still true universal statements if converted: ‘all B are A’ is also true.’ -/- . (shrink)

Predication is a lingual relation. We have this relation when a term is said (λέγεται) of another term. This simple definition, however, is not Aristotle’s own definition. In fact, he does not define predication but attaches his almost in a new field used word κατηγορεῖσθαι to λέγεται. In a predication, something is said of another thing, or, more simply, we have ‘something of something’ (ἓν καθ᾿ ἑνὸς). (PsA. , A, 22, 83b17-18) Therefore, a relation in which two terms are posited (...) to each other in a way that one is said (predicated) of the other is a predication. The term of which the other term is said is called a subject (ὑποκειμένον) and the other, which is said about the subject, is called the predicate. Thus, in a predication the predicate is predicated of the subject; given that being predicated is almost as the same as being said. The relation between being said and being predicated is so close that ‘if something is said of a subject both its name and its definition are necessarily predicated of the subject.’ (Cat., 5, 2a19-26) This, however, is true only about the second genera and not the accidents. a) Nature of relation in predication What is Aristotle’s theory about the nature of the relation in a predication? How does he fundamentally understand this relation? Phil Corkum distinguishes between predication logic and traditional term logic and argues that the relation between subject and predicate in Aristotle is of the latter kind. While in predicate logic, subjects and predicates have distinct roles, they have the same role in traditional term logic. In predication logic, subjects refer, but predicates characterize. Thereupon, a sentence expresses a truth if the object to which the subject refers is correctly characterized by the predicate. In traditional term logic, both subjects and predicates refer and a sentences expresses a truth if both name one and the same thing. He concludes that Aristotle ‘problematically conflates prediction and identity claims’ because while he thinks both subjects and predicates refer, he would deny that a sentence is true just in case the subject and the predicate name one and the same thing. Based on this, Corkum believes that Aristotle’s core semantic is not identity but the weaker relation of constitution, which is a mereological interpretation: ‘All men are mortal’ is true just in case the mereological sum of humans is part of the mereological sum of mortals. b) Aristotle’s theory of predication: one or two theories? Frank Lewis finds an inconsistent gap between the theory of predication in the Categories and that in the later books of the Metaphysics VII, 6. So too Joan Kung, Terry Irwin, Daniel Graham. c) Distinction of ‘being said of’ and ‘being in’ Owen enumerates the texts in which Aristotle’s distinction between ‘being said of’ and ‘being in’ is asserted: OI. 11b38-12a17; To., 127b1-4; Cat. 1a20-b9; 2a11-14; 2a27-b6; 2b15-17; 3a7-32; 9b22-24 d) Predication in Aristotle and the standard ‘S is P’ Marie De Rijk Lambertus thinks that the ‘S is P’ pattern is misleading when it comes to express predication in Aristotle. In his view, ‘The Aristotelian procedure should be described in terms of appositively assigning an attribute (κατηγορούμενον) to a substrate (ὑποκείμενον), rather than ascribing a predicate to a subject by means of a copula…. The comment should be considered an attribute which is said to fall to a substrate, without understanding this procedure in terms of sentence predication.’ e) Aristotle’s predication: bipartite or tripartite? It is a difficulty to make Aristotle’s theories of name-verb predication and tripartite predication consistent. The reason is that tripartite is not consistant with his name-verb structure based on which he says that the predicate term is the ‘verb.’ (20a31; 20b1-2; 16a13-5) The problem is that in a tripartite form like ‘Socrates is white’ we cannot take ‘is white’ as the verb because, based on Aristotle himself, no part of a verb can be significant itself. (16b6-7) However, his assertions about the equivalences between the two structures (OI. 12, 21b9-10; PrA. 51b13-16; Met., 1017b22-30) must mean that they are not inconsistent in his own view. Thus, as Allen Bāck points, ‘Aristotle seems to think that he has a single, consistent theory.’ The sense of saying or speaking as the root sense of rhema makes the relation between predication (saying something of something) and verb more interesting. The use of rhema in the sense of a long expression approves this. In Plato’s work (399ac) where Socrates claims that the name anthropos derives from anthron ha opopen (‘he who examines what he has seen’) we have an onoma from, or in place of, a rhema. 1) Subject The subject (ὑποκειμένον) is that of which another term is said or predicated. Aristotle’s own definition is of a much more philosophical value: ‘By subject I mean that which is expressed by an affirmative term (λέγω δὲ ὑποκείμενον τὸ κάταφάσει δηλούμενον).’ (Met., K, 1067b18) Throughout Aristotle’s work, three kinds of subjects can be found: possible, prime and absolute subject. a) Possible subject Those things that can take the position of a subject in a predication we call possible subjects, no matter they can or cannot take the position of predicate in any predication. All terms except the ultimate predicates are possible subjects because they can take the position of subject. b) Prime subject Those that in any predication can only take the position of a subject and not the position of a predicate are prime subjects. (Cat., 5, 3a36-b2; Met., Z, 1028b36-1029a1) This is the truest sense of subject and belongs only to substances. (Met., Z, 1029a1-2) In fact, ‘that which is not predicated of a subject, but of which all else is predicated’ is a substance. (Met., Z, 1029a7-9) In Categories, besides primary substances (Cat., 2, 1b3-6), individual qualities are also said not to be able to be said of anything else. (Cat., 2, 1a23-29) Aristotle’s examples are a certain ‘knowledge-of-grammar’ (τὶς γράμματικὴ) and ‘an individual white’ (τὸ τὶ λευκὸν). Thus, although substances are indeed in the truest sense individuals and, thereby, in the truest sense primary subjects, other individuals can take the position of subject as well. c) Absolute subject While substances are prime subjects of all other things, there is still something of which substances can be predicated and this predication is not an accidental predication: matter. (Met., Z, 1029a21-24) This predication is, indeed, the predication of a ‘form or this’ on matter and material substance. (Met., Θ, 1049a34-36) The only thing that is absolutely a subject, therefore, and can be a predicate is prime matter (πρώτη ὓλη). (Met., Θ, 1049a24-27) d) Subject and substance The most important thing in being a substance is being a subject: ‘It is because the primary substances are subjects for all the other things and all the other things are predicated of them or are in them, that they are called substances most of all.’ (Cat., 5, 2b15-17) And what is nearer to this position is more a substance as a species is more a substance than a genus.’ (Cat., 5, 2b7-8) e) Primary versus accidental subject A subject is a primary subject in a predication when the predicate is predicated of it as itself. In such a case, the subject is the subject of the predicate qua itself and not qua something else. A subject, on the one hand, is an accidental subject when it is not the primary subject of the predicate that is predicated on it. It means that a subject is an accidental subject when the predicate is predicated of it not qua itself but qua something else. An accidental subject is, therefore, anything other than a substance. 2) Predicate as universal It is evident from our discussion of kinds of subjects that except matter, primary substances (if we ignore both accidental predication and cases of absolute subjects) and other individuals, everything else can take the position of a predicate. Since primary substances are individuals, it results that everything except matter and individuals are capable to take the position of predicate. The immediate consequence of this is that the predicate must be a universal. When individuals cannot take the position of predicate, this position cannot be taken by any particular. Therefore, only universals can be predicated of others. Moreover, albeit universals can be a simple subject (for another universal), they are not prime subjects. The closeness of universal and predicate is to the extent that Aristotle differentiates universal from subject. (Met., Θ, 1049a27-30) 3) Categories or classes of predicates Aristotle distinguishes ten highest classes into one of which each predicate must necessarily fall: substance (or what a thing is), quality, quantity, relation, place, time, position, state, activity and passivity. (Cat., 4, 1b25-27; To., I, 9, 103b20- ; PsA., A, 22, 83b13-23) The substance counted among predicates must refer to secondary and not primary substances not only because Aristotle insists that primary substances cannot be predicated but also from his own examples of the category of substance: man and animal. (To., I, 9, 103b25) However, if a predicate be asserted of itself or its genus be asserted of it, the predicate signifies substance or what is; but if ‘one kind of predicate is asserted of another kind,’ it signifies one of the other nines. (To., I, 9, 103b30) These categories are so comprehensive that no predicate can remain outside them so that even non-being has as many senses as categories. (Met., M, 1089a26-30) a) That whether Aristotle’s categories are merely linguistic or fundamentally ontological is a so much controversial dispute. Some like G. E. R. Lloyd believe that ‘categories are primarily intended as a classification of reality … rather than of the signifying terms themselves.’ b) Although Aristotle’s categories have been historically regarded as a classification of predications, there are some recent commentators like Jonathan Barnes that think it is classifying predicates and not predications. 4) Kinds of predicates In his introduction of Categories, as J. W. Thorp truly points out , Aristotle distinguishes between the category of substance and the other categories using μὲν ... δὲ construction. This construction illustrates that beside tenfold classification of categories, there is an even more crucial differentiation between two kinds of predicates: substance or what is on the one hand and the other nine ones on the other hand: the distinction between what is predicated of the subject as what it is and what is predicated of it as an accident. Therefore, we have three kinds of classification - a twofold, a fourfold and a tenfold-complicatedly classifying the same thing, viz. the predicate. Predicates can be divided also to four kinds: property, definition, genus and accident. (To., I, 4, 101b11-20) A property is that predicate that is convertible with its subject and does not signify its essence. A definition is that predicate that is convertible with its subject and signifies its essence. It is a genus if it is not predicated convertibly and is contained in the definition of its subject. And it is an accident if it is neither convertible nor contained in the definition of its subject. (To., I, 8, ^103b3) All of these four kinds are among categories. (To., I, 9, 103b20) It seems that there might be some kind of relation between the twofold and the fourfold distinction: whereas genus and definition are predicated as what it is, accidents are not so predicated. There seems to be some rules that determine to each of these four kinds each predicate belongs. At To., IV, 123b30ff. Aristotle asserts: ‘If B has a contrary and A does not, then B does not belong to A as its genus.’ There is a dispute around per se accidents (τὰ καθ’ αὑτὰ συμβεβηκότα) (Topics., 102a18) whether they must be regarded as either of the four kinds or as a fifth kind. Barnes (1970) argued that they ‘do not fit at all neatly into the fourfold classification.’ He argues that based on the definition of accidents at A, 5, 102b4-5, they must be accidents but based on another definition, A, 5, 102b6-7, they cannot be accidents. He also defends the view that they are not properties. Barnes concludes: ‘This shows that the two definitions are not equivalent, and hence that the ‘predicables’ are not well-defined.’ Demetris J. Hadgopoulos defends the view that the two definitions of accidents are equivalent and per se accidents are properties. 5) Five types of predications We have five kinds of predications based on our division of subjects and our discussion of predicates: simple, primary (itself divided to substantial and accident), accidental (itself divided to primary and secondary), aoincidental and absolute predication. a) Simple predication. This is a predication in which a universal is predicated of either a particular or a universal subject. This sense of predication includes all other senses except the first kind of accidental predication. b) Primary predication. This is a predication in which a universal is predicated of a primary subject, namely a substance. A primary predication is of two kinds: i) Substantial predication. A primary predication in which the predicate is part of, or is included in, the definition of the subject. The universal that is the predicate here is the definition or the genus or the species or the diferentia of the subject. It is this predication that Aristotle calls a unity: ‘A statement may be called a unity … because it exhibits a single predicate as inhering not accidentally in a single subject.’ (PsA., B, 10, 93b35-37) It is only substantial predicates that can be predicated of each other: ‘Predicates which are not substantial are not predicated of one another.’ (PsA., A, 22, 83b18-19) Aristotle defines a substantial predication also in another way. A predication in which a higher genus is predicated on a lower genus, species, a substance or an individual, (or a species is predicated on an individual) is a substantial predication. Therefore, a substantial predication is a predication in a series that has individuals on one of its ends and a general category on its other end. In fact, only substantial predicates can be predicated of one another. (PsA., A, 22, 83b17-19) This series cannot be an infinite series because otherwise not only substances would not be definable but also a genus would be equal to one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) -/- ii) Accident predication. A primary predication in which the predicate is not part of, or is not included in, the definition of its subject. The universal that is the predicate here is the property or the accident of the subject. c) Accidental predication. This is a predication in which the subject is not a primary subject and its predicate is a substance. This predication is of two kinds: i) Primary accidental predication. This is a predication in which an accident is predicated of substance. Such a predication can go ad infinitum, which is inferable from Aristotle’s assertion that the secondary accidental predication cannot go ad infinitum. ii) Secondary accidental predication. It is a predication in which an accident is predicated of another accident. Such a predication, Aristotle asserts, cannot go ad infinitum because even more than two accidents cannot be combined. Now what is the meaning of Aristotle’s assertion that we cannot continue this ad infinitum? Does it mean that we cannot continue the predication ‘The musician is white’ and say ‘The white is Athenian?’ But why not? Or maybe he means that by adding any predication, we are still in a condition of predicating two accidents of a substance on each other. -/- As primary subjects, substances can also take the position of predicate though not essentially but accidentally. In propositions like ‘the white is a log’ or ‘That big thing is a log’ we observe substance taking the position of predicate but this is only accidentally: ‘When I affirm ‘the white is a log,’ I mean that something which happens to be white is a log- not that white is the subject in which log inheres (οὐχ ὡς τὸ ὑποκείμενον τῷ ξύλῳ τὸ λευκόν ἐστι), for it was not qua white or qua a species of white that the white (thing) came to be a log (οὔτε λευκὸν ὄν οὔθ᾿ ὃπερ λευκόν τι ἐγἐνετο ξύλον), and the white (thing) is consequently not a log except incidentally.’ (PsA., 22, 83a3-9) Aristotle compares this accidental use of substance in the position of predicate with the substantial use of it in the place of a subject: ‘On the other hand, when I affirm ‘the log is white,’ I do not mean that something else, which happens to be a log, is white (οὐχ ὃτι ἓτερόν τί ἐστι λευκόν, ἐκείνῳ δὲ συμβέβηκε ξύλῳ εἶναι), (as I should if I said ‘the musician is white,’ which would mean ‘The man who happens also to be a musician is white’); on the contrary, log is here the subject- the subject which actually came to be white, and did so qua wood or qua a species of wood and qua nothing else.’ (PsA., 22, 83a8-14) Aristotle asks us not to call propositions like ‘The white is a log’ a predication at all or at least call them accidental predication instead of simple (ἁπλως) predication. (PsA., A, 22, 83a14-17) An accidental predication, in which we have a substance in the place of predicate, is different from an essential predication in that while the subject of an accidental predication is said to be the predicate not by itself but as something different with which it coincides, the subject of an essential predicate is said to be the predicate by itself and not because it is something else: ‘Since there are attributes which are predicated of a subject essentially and not accidentally- not, that is, in the sense in which we say ‘That white (thing) is a man,’ which is not the same mode of predication as when we say ‘The man is white’: the man is white not because he is something else but because he is man, but the white is man because ‘being white’ coincides with ‘humanity’ within one subject. Therefore, there are terms such as are essentially subjects of predicates. (PsA., A, 19, 81a24-29) This capability of ‘non-essentially and only accidentally’ being a subject does belong, in fact, to all sensible things. (PsA., A, 27a32-36) d) Coincidental predication. this is a predication in which none of the subject and predicate are a substance or an individual. In this predication, one of the accidents of a substance or individual is predicated of one of the other accidentals of the same substance or individual. For example, when it is said that ‘The white is musical,’ there is an individual, say Socrates, for which both of white and musical are accidents. e) Absolute predication. This is a predication in which a form or a substance is predicated of a matter or a material substance. Some commentators like Loux and Lewis regarded this predication as close to accident predication, both based on inherence. As R.M. Dancy points out, these predications make Aristotle’s theory of predication immanentist: not only accident predications are explained by the immanence of accidents in substances, some of the substantial predications, which were not explained in Categories, are also explained by the immanence of form in matter. It is interesting that in this kind of predication, it is the predicate and not the subject, which is in the strictest sense substance. As the central books of Metaphysics claim, the form is the substance. Thus, in this predication, substance gets away from the sense of ὑποκείμενον. Corkum mentiones 68a19 as the only instance where Aristotle explicitly claims that a term may be predicated of itself, a passage that is, in Corkum’s view, problematic. 6) Demonstrable predicates Those predicates are demonstrable that are so related to their subjects that there are other predicates prior to them predicable of their subjects (ἔτι δ᾿ ἄλλος, εἰ ὧν πρότερα ἄττα κατηγορεῖται). (PsA., A, 22, 83b32-34) 7) Series of predications Since it is possible for a predicate to be itself the subject of another predication, we can have a series of predications in which the predicate of a predication is the subject of the next predication. This series has the following features: a) It has a limit (in number) (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) on the side of subjects: there are subjects that cannot themselves be predicated (PsA., A, 27, 43a39-41), which are, as we noted, prime subjects: particulars, i.e. prime substances and other individuals. (PsA., A, 19-22) Aristotle calls them ultimate (ὓστατον). (PsA., 21, 82a36-b1) b) It has a limit (in number of kinds) (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) also on the side of predicates: there must be predicates that cannot be subjects. (PsA., A, 19-22; PsA., A, 27, 43a36-39) Aristotle calls them primary (πρῶτον). (PsA., A, 21, 82b1-4) These are the highest categories or the highest genera of categories. (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) c) The series has an escalating shape from mere subjects at its downside to mere predicates at its upside. It is Aristotle himself whos uses the words up and down in this sense. (e.g. PsA., A, 22, 83b2-3) d) The predications that lie between lowest and highest ones must be finite in number. (PsA., A, 19-22 especially: 20, 82a21-35) These have subjects and predicates, each capable of both of the roles of being subject and being predicated. A result of this fitness is that neither demonstration can go to infinity nor everything is demonstrable, the two points Aristotle always insist on. e) The upward side includes the more universal ones and the downward the more particular ones. (PsA., 20, 82a21-23) f) It follows from the above features that ‘neither the ascending nor the descending series of predications … are infinite.’ (PsA., A, 22, 83b24-25) g) Reciprocation and convertibility. Except in case of terms (i.e. subjects and predicates) that are at each of the ends of series of predications, namely ultimates and primaries, it is possible to reciprocate (ἀντιστρέφειν) terms and convert the predication. (PsA., A, 19, 82a15-20) h) Antipredication. Antipredication means that in a predication (S is P), the subject becomes the predicate of its predicate (P is S) in the same category its predicate was predicated on it. For example, if P is in the category of quality, antipredication means that S be predicated of P in the category of quality. In other words, P is a quality of S and S is a quality of P. Aristotle rejects this. (PsA., A, 22, 83a36-b3) i) Self-predication versus other-predication. Aristotle distinguishes between a predication in which a term is said of itself and a predication in which a term is said of another. (Phy., Δ, 2, 209a31-33) j) Predicablity (Cat., 5, 3a36-b2): 1) Primary substances and individuals are not predicable. 2) Secondary substances are of two kinds: genus and species i) Genus is predicable able both of the species and of the individuals. ii) Species is predicable of the individual. 3) Differentiae are predicable both of the species and of the individuals. 8) Predication as classification a) Richard Patterson believes that Aristotle’s so repeated construction using hoper (estin A hoper B) in Topics (120a23 sq., 122b19, 26sq., 123a, 124a18, 125a29, 126a21, 128a35. Also in Posterior Analytics (83a24-30) (Brunschwig’s list. ‘expresses the fact that A is a kind of B (esti A B tis), that A is a species of the genus B.’ 9) Universal predication Aristotle defines universal predication (κατὰ παντὸς κατηγορεῖσθαι) as such: ‘wherever no instance of the subject (τῶν τοῦ ὑποκειμέμνου) can be found of which the other term cannot be asserted.’ (PrA., A, 24b27-29) In this predication, the subject is included in another as in a whole (ἐν ὃλῳ εἶναι) and the predicate is predicated of all of the subject (κατὰ παντὸς κατηγορεῖσθαι). (PrA., A, 24b26-27) Attach another discussion we had about ἐν ὃλῳ here. 10) Quantity of predication A predication, truly stated, has a quantity, which is the number of objects under the name of the subject of which the predicate is predicated. The quantity of subject can be stated in four ways: a. Indefinite: when the predicate belongs or does not belong to the subject without any mark to show to haw many of the particulars under the name of the subject it does or does not belong. E.g. ‘Man is white’; ‘Man is not white.’ (PrA., A, 24a20; OI., I, 7, 17b8-12) b. Universal quantity: When the predicate belongs to all or none of the subject. E.g. ‘Every man is animal’; ‘No man is animal.’ (PrA., A, 24a18-19; OI., I, 7, 17b5-6) The contrary of a predication of a universal quality is a predication of a universal quality. E.g. the contrary of ‘Every man is white’ is ‘No man is white.’ (OI., I, 7, 17b20-23) c. Particular quantity: When the predicate belongs (or does not belong) to some of the subject. E.g. ‘Some men are white’; ‘Some men are not white.’ (PrA., A, 24a19-20) d. Single quantity: when the subject is a proper name of only one object. E.g. ‘Socrates is white’; ‘Socrates is not white.’ The contrary of this predication is of a single quantity: ‘Socrates is not white.’ (OI., I, 7, 17b38-18a4) 11) Convertibility of predication. Some predications are convertible, that is, it is possible to change the place of subject and predicate in a true proposition so that the converted proposition remains true. This is supposed to mean that given the truth of a predication, the truth of the converted predication is inferable. The convert form of a predication depends on its quantity. a. Indefinite quantity: This predication has no strictly true convert because its quantity is not stated. b. Universal quantity: It can be converted in two ways: i) A negative universal can be converted to a negative universal in which the terms are changed. E.g. ‘No pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘No good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a5-8 and a14-19) ii) An affirmative universal can be converted to an affirmative particular in which the terms are changed. E.g. ‘Every pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘Some good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a7-9) c. Particular quantity: If it is negative, it cannot be converted but if it is affirmative, it can be converted to an affirmative predication with particular quantity. E.g. ‘Some pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘Some good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a10-13 and a20-24) d. Single quantity: It cannot be converted. 12) Characteristics of relations between subject and predicate 1. A predicate is of a wider range than its subject. It is based on this fact that Aristotle: a) Prevents individuals to be predicate because there is nothing of which an individual be of a wider range. In other words, it is due to the fact that since an individual is only ‘one particular’ thing and, thus, cannot be of a wider extent than anything that Aristotle prevents them of being a predicate. Matthews, however, thinks we cannot use Socrates, a substance and an individual, in the place of predicate and say it of Socrates because ‘Socrates does not classify Socrates: it names him.’ b) Prevents differentia, species and things under species to be predicated of genus. (To., Z, 6, 144a27-) c) Prevents the species and the things under it to be predicated of the differentia. (To., Z, 6, 144b1-4) d) Also about the effect because it is wider than its subject. (PsA., B, 17, 99a) e) Each attribute is wider than every individual it is predicated on, though several attributes, collectively considered, might not be wider but exactly the substance of a thing. (PsA., B, 13, 96a32-b1) 2. The predicate of a predicate of a subject will be predicated of the subject too: ‘whenever one thing is predicated of another as of a subject, all things said of what is predicated will be said of the subject too.’ (Cat., 3, 1b10-15) In fact, it is due to its predication of the subject that it is predicated of its predicate. (Cat., 5, 2a36-b1) Moreover, what is not predicated of the predicate of a subject cannot be predicated of it as well. (PrA., A, 27, 43b22-27) Thus, what, for example, is not predicated of animal, cannot be predicated of man. 3. The predicate of a subject can be predicated of its predicates as well. (Cat., 5, 3a1-6) For example, you call the individual man grammatical and, thence, you call both a man and an animal grammatical. Nonetheless, the predicate of a subject belongs to it more properly than to its higher predicates. (PrA., A, 27, 43a27-32) 4. It is only the subject that can be distributed and not the predicate. (PrA., A, 27, 43b16-22; OI, I, 7, 17b12-16) Therefore, we can say e.g. ‘Every man is animal’ but we cannot say ‘Every man is every animal.’ 5. It is the reason of the relation between subjects and predicates, that is the reason of predication, which is the subject of inquiry. (Met., Z, 1041a20-24) In other words, since it is a meaningless inquiry to ask why a thing is itself (Met., Z, 1041a14-15), the only remaining meaningful inquiry is to ask why something is something else, i.e. to ask about the reason of predication. 6. A subject cannot categorize its predicate in the same category in which it is categorized by it. If e.g. A is a quality of B, B cannot be a quality of A. Therefore, there is no reciprocation in the same category. (PsA., A, 22, 83a36-39) 13) Characteristics of series of predications 1. A series of secondary accidental predication cannot go ad infinitum for not even more than two terms can be comnbined. For an accident is not an accident of an accident, unless it be because both are accidents of the same subject. (Met., Γ, 1007b1-4) 2. Infinite series cannot be traversed in thought. (PsA., A, 22, 83b6-7) 3. The predications of genera on each other must be ended and cannot go to infinity because otherwise not only substances would not be definable but also a genus would be equal to one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) Therefore, a series of predication of genera on each other must be limited on both sides. There must be an upward limit in general categories as well as a downward limit in individual because they cannot be predicated of others. Whatever lies between these limits can both be predicated of others and others be predicated of them. (PrA., A, 27, 43a36-43) 4. The order of predicates matters: it makes a difference whether the series be ABC or BAC. (PsA., B, 13, 96b25-32) . (shrink)

A. Accident 1. We call an accident (συμβεβηκὸς) that which attaches to something and can be truly asserted, but neither of necessity nor usually.’ (Met. , Δ, 1025a14-16) 2. Whenever an accident attaches to a subject, it attaches to it not because it is that subject (μὴ διότι τοδὶ ἧν). (Met., Δ, 1025a21-24) 3. ‘There is no definite cause for an accident, but a chance cause, i.e. an indefinite one.’ (Met., Δ, 1025a24-25) 4. ‘The accident has happened or exists, -not (...) in virtue of itself, however, but of something else. (Met., Δ, 1025a28-29) 5. ‘What attaches to each thing in virtue of itself but is not in its substance is an accident.’ (Met., Δ, 1025a30-32) 6. ‘An accident is something which, though it is … neither a definition nor a property nor a genus, yet belongs to the thing.’ (To., I, 5, 102b4-) 7. An accident is ‘something which may either belong or not belong to any one and the self-same thing, as (e.g.) being seated may belong or not belong to some self-same thing.’ (To., I, 5, 102b4-) 8. ‘There is nothing to prevent an accident from becoming a temporary or relative property … [and] there is nothing to prevent an accident from becoming both a relative and a temporary property; but a property absolutely it will never be.’ Aristotle’s example is ‘being seated.’ That it is a temporary property is evident. It is also a relative property to those who are not seating when he is the only person sitting. Therefore, it is a temporary and also a relative property. 9. ‘In the case of accidents and in no other it is possible for something to be true in a certain respect and not universally’ and ‘there is nothing to prevent an attribute belonging in part’ so that it is open to dispute accidents e.g. being white or just about a man because he might be white or just in part only. Thus, ‘conversion is not a necessary process in the case of accidents.’ (To., B, 1, 109a9-) B. Essential versus accidental Aristotle distinguishes between two senses of being (τὸ ὄν): accidental sense (κατὰ συμβεβηκός) and essential sense (καθ᾿ αὑτό). The accidental sense happens when something is said to be another thing while there is in fact a third thing which is both of them. Thus, being the first thing is not by itself the second thing. a) Aristotle speaks of three ways in which one thing is said in an accidental sense to be another. (Met., Δ, 1017a8-22) i) When both the subject and the predicate are accidents of a third thing and it is in fact the third thing which ‘is’ by its own. Thus, when it is said e.g. that ‘The just is musical’ it is said accidentally because it is in fact a third thing, Socrates for example, which is just and musical. (Met., Δ, 1017a13-19) ii) When that to which the attribute belongs is. The example of this must be ‘the man is musical’ because it is in fact the man which is. iii) When the subject which has as an attribute that of which it is itself predicated, itself is. The example of this must be Aristotle’s third example: ‘The musical is man.’ b) Aristotle rejects the essential sense to categories: ‘Those things are said in their own right to be that are indicated by the figures of predication; for the senses of ‘being’ are just as many as these figures.’ (Met., Δ, 1017a22-24) Aristotle does not give us any example of the essential sense. Daniel W. Graham suggests that while essential predication is of the logical form of ‘S is P,’ the logical form of the accidental predication is ‘S has P.’ Although he concedes that the is/has contrast is not Aristotle’s, for which he thinks Aristotle prefers ‘said of’/’in’ terminology, he points to the discussion of ‘have’ in Cat. 15 as an evidence of its potential value for an analysis of predication. Kirwan analyses the distinction of essential and accidental predicate as such: while essential predicates ‘are identical with the subjects of which they are predicated; other predications are true in virtue of the fact that two distinct items, e.g. a substance and a quality, ‘coincide.’ Herman Weidemann believes ‘what divides a predicative statement which predicates essentially from a predicative statement which predicates accidentally is the fact that the former does- whereas the latter does not- answer the question what its subject cannot fail to be without ceasing to exist, as the somewhat its subject goes on existing, no matter what happens to be true of it during its existence, or, what kind of things its subject must be in order to be identifiable as one and the same object as long as it exists.’ C. Essential 1. Either the formula or the name of the subject of an essential attribute is involved in it. For example, animal is involved in female but not in white. (Met., Z, 1030b23-26) 2. Essential attributes, combined together, form a unity. Thus, e.g. animal and biped form a unity because they are both essential of man. (OI., II, 11, 21a14-16) 3. Aristotle distinguishes between two kinds of essential attributes (PsA., A, 4, 73a34-b3; 22, 84a12-17): a) Those attributes that belong to their subject as elements in its essential nature as e.g. line belongs to triangle or point to line. Here the very being of triangle is composed of line or that of line is composed of points: line is contained in the formula of triangle and point in that of line. b) Those attributes whose subjects are contained in their own defining formula as e.g. straight is an essential attribute of line because line is part of the defining formula of straight or odd belongs to number because number is part of the defining formula of odd. Every attribute that is related in neither of these two ways to its subject, it is not an essential but an accidental attribute. (PsA., A, 4, 73b3-5) 4. That attribute which is not predicated of a subject other than itself is an essential attribute. A substance cannot be predicated of anything but itself and is, thus, essential. (PsA., A, 4, 73b5-10) 5. A thing consequently co-stated with anything is essential. For example, if a beast dies when its throat is being cut, its death is also essentially connected with the cutting because the cutting was the cause of death, not death a coincidence of cutting. (PsA., A, 4, 73b10-15) 6. Essential attributes in both of this sense, either in the sense that their subjects are contained in them or in the sense that they are contained in their subjects, are necessary as well as consequently co-stated with their subjects. The reason is that it is impossible for them to inhere in their subjects either simply or in the qualified sense (that one or other of a pair of opposites must inhere in the subject as e.g. one of straight or curve must be necessarily predicable of a line or one of odd or even of number). (PsA., A, 4, 73b16-21; 6, 74b5-12; B, 96b1-5) 7. Only those attributes that are within a genus are essential and possessed by their respective subjects as such and, thus, are necessary. Thereupon, both the conclusion and the premises of demonstrations which produce scientific knowledge are essential. (PsA., A, 6, 75a28-31) Therefore, ‘the extreme and the middle terms must be drawn from the same genus; otherwise, as predicated, they will not be essential and will thus be accidents.’ (PsA., A, 6, 75b10-12) Also, the theorems of a science can be demonstrated by means of another science only when they are related as subordinate to superior. (PsA., A, 6, 75b13-) 8. Our knowledge of the connexion of an attribute with a subject is essential only when ‘we know that connexion through the middle term in virtue of which it inheres (καθ᾿ὃ ὑπἀρχει), and as an inference from basic premises essential and ‘appropriate’ to the subject.’ The essential belonging of the middle to the minor has a necessary connexion with its belonging to the same genus of the major and minor: ‘If that middle term also belongs essentially to the minor, the middle must belong to the same genus as the major and minor terms (ἀνάγκη τὸ μέσον ἐν τῇ αὐτῇ συγγενείᾳ εἶναι). (PsA., A, 9, 76a4-9) 9. In an essential predication, the predicate is signified of a subject identical with itself or with a species of itself. Since only predicates which signify substance signify that the subject is identical with the predicate or with a species of the predicate, predicates signifying substance are essentially predicated and any other predicate is accidental or coincidental. Thus, while animal is essentially predicated of man because man is identical with a species of animal, white is accidentally predicated of man because man is neither identical with white nor a species of it. (PsA., A, 22, 83a24-32) Weidemann discusses the confusion between essential predications and statements of identity. He warns that the expression ‘(to be) just what a man is’ (analogous to the Greek phrase ‘(εἶναι) ὃπερ ἀνθρώπον) ought not to be confused with the expression ‘just what it is for a man to be,’ which renders the phrase τὸ ὃπερ ἀνθρώπῳ εἶναι’ (1007a22, 23, 27-28); a confusion Kirwan discusses. 10. ‘Demonstration proves the inherence of essential attributes in things.’ (PsA., A, 22, 84a11-12) 11. ‘Nothing which does not happen to belong to the genus is essentially the genus; e.g. a white man is not essentially a color.’ Thus, while justice falls within the genus, a just man does not. (To., Γ, 1, ^116a24-) 12. There is no syllogism of essence (ti esti). Nevertheless, we come to know ti esti through a demonstration. (93b15-20; cf. 93b25-28) D. Accidental 1. An accidental attribute cannot be predicated of a subject universally. Thus, we cannot say ‘Every man is musical.’ The reason is that ‘universal attributes belong to things in virtue of their nature.’ Therefore, accidental predicates are predicated only of the individuals. (Met., Δ, 1017b33-1018a2) 2. An accidental is a mere name. (Met., E, 1026b13-) 3. An accidental is obviously akin to non-being. (Met., E, 1026b21) 4. ‘That which is neither always nor for the most part we call accidental.’ (Met., E, 1026b27-33) 5. The matter (ὕλη) is the cause of the accidental because it is matter which is capable of being otherwise than as it for the most part is. (Met., E, 1027a13-16) In fact, there is cause or principle of the incidental of the same kind as there are of the essential because if there were, everything would be of necessity. (Met., K, 1065a6-8) The causes of accidental are unordered and indefinite. (Met., K, 1065a25-26) 6. Since all science is either of that which is always or of that which is for the most part, there is no science of the accidental. (Met., E, 1027a19-24; K, 1064b30-1065a6) Therefore, since an accident may also not inhere and, thus, it is impossible to prove its inherence as a necessary conclusion, there is no demonstrative knowledge of accidents. (PsA., A, 6, 75a18-23) 7. The accidental is not necessary but indeterminate. (Met., K, 1065a24-26) 8. The co-positing of a subject and a predicate which are accidental either to the same subject or to one another, whiteness and being musical for instance, does not form a unity. (OI, II, 11, 21a7-14) 9. Negative predicates, i.e. predicates including a ‘not,’ are accidental predicates. Thus, if good be an essential predicate of a subject, ‘not bad’ cannot be essential but is accidental. (OI., II, 14, 23b15-20) 10. Every attribute which does not belong to its subject in either of two senses of essential attribute (cf. PsA., A, 4, 73a34-b3), namely, belonging to their subjects as an element of its formula or their subjects belonging to them as an element of them, is an accidental attribute. (PsA., A, 4, 73b3-5) 11. Those attributes that are predicated of a subject other than themselves are accidental attributes. Thus, everything except substance is an accidental in this sense. (PsA., A, 4, 73b5-10) 12. A thing not consequentially connected with anything is accidental. For example, in ‘while he was walking it lightened,’ the lightening was not due to his walking but was a coincidence. (PsA., A, 4, 73b10-15) 13. Those attributes that are not within a genus are accidental attributes. (PsA., A, 6, 75a28-31) Therefore, the extreme and middle terms that are not drawn from the same genus are accidents. (PsA., A, 6, 75b10-12) Moreover, to apply an attribute to subjects in different genera afford knowledge of the attribute, only as inhering accidentally, not as belonging to its subject as such.’ (PsA., A, 9, 75b38-76a3) . (shrink)

This article frames Trump's politics through a genealogy of propaganda, going back to P.T. Barnum in the 19th century and moving through the crowd psychologist Gustave Le Bon and the public relations counsel Edward Bernays in the 20th. This genealogy shows how propaganda was developed as a tool by eager professionals who would hire themselves to the elite to control the masses. Trump’s propaganda presents a break in that he has not only removed professionals from control over his propaganda, he (...) has mobilized it as a force against them. His lower and middle class supporters may not materially gain from Trump’s politics, but they get to vent their ressentiment on the professional class and see them too become the targets of propagandistic control. Ultimately, the conflict between working class whites, those without college degrees, and professionals earns little for its participants and occludes the role that elites play in class dynamics in the United States. This article adds substance and context to the claims that Trump’s appeal is anti-professional while showing that the claims that his supporters are ‘voting against their interests’ does not reflect the real psychological benefits many Trumpists get from supporting him. (shrink)

The project of “public reason” claims to offer an epistemological resolution to the civic dilemma created by the clash of incompatible options for the rational exercise of freedom adopted by citizens in a diverse community. The present Article proposes, via consideration of a contrast between two classical accounts of dialectical reasoning, that the employment of “public reason,” in substantive due process analysis, is unworkable in theory and contrary to more reflective Supreme Court precedent. Although logical commonalities might be available to (...) pick out from the multitude of particularized accounts of what constitutes “civic order,” no “public reason” so derived could adequately capture - and thus be able to secure in a practical sense - any single determinate civic order, much less one that would be consistent with all citizens' conceptions of public order. Part I of this Article raises a number of issues for consideration relating to the epistemology of law and focuses especially on the concept of public reason and its critique. Part II addresses alternative approaches to legal reasoning suggested by classical accounts of practical reasoning and virtue theory and considers the operation of such legal analysis outside the area of substantive due process; Part III analyzes post-Lawrence case law confirming the dilemma created by the Supreme Court's ambiguous approaches to substantive due process and concludes that only one interpretation - that articulated fully in Washington v. Glucksberg and given lip service in Lawrence v. Texas - provides a method for resolving novel substantive due process challenges that is philosophically sound as well as historically coherent. Rather than perpetuating a fiction that denies the propriety of lawmaking unless based on principles that all citizens can rationally agree upon, an appropriate model of substantive due process analysis recognizes that law must inevitably be based upon principles that cannot be agreed upon by all citizens in virtue of rationality alone. -/- Abstract Footnotes (291) Beta -/- Revise My Submission -/- -/- One-Click Download | Share | Email | Add to Briefcase -/- Facebook | Twitter | Digg | Del.icio.us | CiteULike | Permalink Using the URL or DOI link below will ensure access to this page indefinitely -/- Based on your IP address, your paper is being delivered by: New York, USA Processing request. [Processing request.] Illinois, USA Processing request. [Processing request.] Brussels, Belgium Processing request. [Processing request.] Seoul, Korea Processing request. [Processing request.] California, USA Processing request. [Processing request.] -/- If you have any problems downloading this paper, please click on another Download Location above, or view our FAQ File name: SSRN-id1004757. ; Size: 424K -/- Sample Cover You will receive a black and white printed and perfect bound version of this document in 8 1/2 x 11 inch format, with glossy color front and back covers. Currently shipping to the US addresses only. Your order will be shipped within three business days. Quantity: Total Price = $0.50 plus shipping (U.S. Only) -/- If you have any problems with this purchase, please email [email protected] or call 1-585-442-8170. Reason's Freedom and the Dialectic of Ordered Liberty -/- Edward C. Lyons University of Notre Dame Law School -/- Cleveland State Law Review, Vol. 55, p. 157, 2007 -/- Abstract: The project of "public reason" claims to offer an epistemological resolution to the civic dilemma created by the clash of incompatible options for the rational exercise of freedom adopted by citizens in a diverse community. The present Article proposes, via consideration of a contrast between two classical accounts of dialectical reasoning, that the employment of "public reason," in substantive due process analysis, is unworkable in theory and contrary to more reflective Supreme Court precedent. Although logical commonalities might be available to pick out from the multitude of particularized accounts of what constitutes "civic order," no "public reason" so derived could adequately capture - and thus be able to secure in a practical sense - any single determinate civic order, much less one that would be consistent with all citizens' conceptions of public order. -/- Part I of this Article raises a number of issues for consideration relating to the epistemology of law and focuses especially on the concept of public reason and its critique. Part II addresses alternative approaches to legal reasoning suggested by classical accounts of practical reasoning and virtue theory and considers the operation of such legal analysis outside the area of substantive due process; Part III analyzes post-Lawrence case law confirming the dilemma created by the Supreme Court's ambiguous approaches to substantive due process and concludes that only one interpretation - that articulated fully in Washington v. Glucksberg and given lip service in Lawrence v. Texas - provides a method for resolving novel substantive due process challenges that is philosophically sound as well as historically coherent. -/- Rather than perpetuating a fiction that denies the propriety of lawmaking unless based on principles that all citizens can rationally agree upon, an appropriate model of substantive due process analysis recognizes that law must inevitably be based upon principles that cannot be agreed upon by all citizens in virtue of rationality alone. -/- Keywords: substantive due process, practical reason, public reason, Rawls, Casey, Lawrence, Glucksberg, Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hegel, dialectic, autonomy, freedom -/- . (shrink)

In this article I develop Heidegger's phenomenology of poetry, showing that it may provide grounds for rejecting claims that he lapses into linguistic idealism. Proceeding via an analysis of the three concepts of language operative in the philosopher's work, I demonstrate how poetic language challenges language's designative and world-disclosive functions. The experience with poetic language, which disrupts Dasein's absorption by emerging out of equipmentality in the mode of the broken tool, brings Dasein to wonder at the world's existence in such (...) a way that doubt about its reality cannot enter the picture. (shrink)

This article connects value-sensitive design to Gibson’s affordance theory: the view that we perceive in terms of the ease or difficulty with which we can negotiate space. Gibson’s ideas offer a nonsubjectivist way of grasping culturally relative values, out of which we develop a concept of political affordances, here understood as openings or closures for social action, often implicit. Political affordances are equally about environments and capacities to act in them. Capacities and hence the severity of affordances vary with age, (...) health, social status and more. This suggests settings are selectively permeable, or what postphenomenologists call multistable. Multistable settings are such that a single physical location shows up differently – as welcoming or hostile – depending on how individuals can act on it. In egregious cases, authoritarian governments redesign politically imbued spaces to psychologically cordon both them and the ideologies they represent. Selective permeability is also orchestrated according to business interests, which is symptomatic of commercial imperatives increasingly dictating what counts as moral and political goods. (shrink)

To evaluate the overall good/welfare of any action, policy or institutional choice we need some way of comparing the benefits and losses to those affected: we need to make interpersonal comparisons of the good/welfare. Yet sceptics have worried either: that such comparisons are impossible as they involve an impossible introspection across individuals, getting ‘into their minds’; that they are indeterminate as individual-level information is compatible with a range of welfare numbers; or that they are metaphysically mysterious as they assume the (...) existence either of a social mind or of absolute levels of welfare when no such things exist. This article argues that such scepticism can potentially be addressed if we view the problem of interpersonal comparisons as fundamentally an epistemic problem – that is, as a problem of forming justified beliefs about the overall good based on evidence of the individual good. (shrink)

There is congruence between Nietzsche’s philosophy of life and the biopolitical philosophy of Giorgio Agamben. For both philosophers the human animal possesses a divided relationship to its being alive. For both philosophers this division is of a political nature, such that membership in political community as we know it is conditional on the human animal’s alienation from its biological being. Both philosophers are also concerned with the possibility of transformation and, because of the connection they establish between politics and animality, (...) link this possibility to a change in the relationship between humans and their being alive. Yet both philosophers end up with an entirely different understanding of the nature of this change, and of its potential scope. This paper is an attempt at clarifying this disagreement between Nietzsche and Agamben, and with using it to come to a better understanding of the latter’s political ontology. It presents a reading of Kafka’s “The Burrow” in an attempt to show how Agamben’s concept of the anthropological machine challenges the Nietzschean program of the affirmation of life as will to power. (shrink)

In this paper I examine the question of when human life begins from a neo-Aristotelian perspective. In my view, the basic principles of Aristotle’s metaphysics inform an account of human life (and the human person) that offers the best available explanation of the available phenomena. This account – the substance account of the human person – can fully incorporate the contemporary findings of empirical embryology, while also recognizing the essential uniqueness of rational human nature.

In recent years, scholars have increasingly paid attention to the philosophy of Josiah Royce. Long lost in the shadow of fellow classical American figures, Royce’s philosophy has enjoyed a renascence, with a spate of publications in a variety of venues studying and applying his thought.1 Like his philosophical brethren, Royce wrote on a wide variety of subjects, his discussions underpinned by a smattering of influences. Much has been remarked of the various Western sources that made an impression on Royce’s thought, (...) but comparatively little has been said of his indebtedness to Eastern sources. Kurt Leidecker’s Josiah Royce and Indian Thought2 and Frank M... (shrink)

Invited contribution to The Aim of Belief, a special issue of Teorema, guest-edited by J. Zalabardo.

This is a transcript of a conversation between P F Strawson and Gareth Evans in 1973, filmed for The Open University. Under the title 'Truth', Strawson and Evans discuss the question as to whether the distinction between genuinely fact-stating uses of language and other uses can be grounded on a theory of truth, especially a 'thin' notion of truth in the tradition of F P Ramsey.

Subjects appear to take only evidential considerations to provide reason or justification for believing. That is to say that subjects do not take practical considerations—the kind of considerations which might speak in favour of or justify an action or decision—to speak in favour of or justify believing. This is puzzling; after all, practical considerations often seem far more important than matters of truth and falsity. In this paper, I suggest that one cannot explain this, as many have tried, merely by (...) appeal to the idea that belief aims only at the truth. I appeal instead to the idea that the aim of belief is to provide only practical reasons which might form the basis on which to act and to make decisions, an aim which is in turn dictated by the aim of action. This, I argue, explains why subjects take only evidential considerations to favour of or justify believing. Surprisingly, then, it turns out that it is practical reason itself which demands that there be no practical reasons for belief. (shrink)

Pada musim semi, entah kenapa, tidak banyak ikan. Karena tangkapannya sangat tidak stabil, Pekakak mulai berpikir. Lalu membuat beberapa rencana. Dengan otoritas komandonya, dia memanggil Bangau: – Ini adalah musim penangkapan ikan yang sangat sulit. Jika kita ingin kenyang, kita harus membuat usaha patungan. Bangau mengangguk, menambahkan: - Saya setuju; mari kita beternak ikan kakap putih dan ikan mas krusia. Jenis ini berumur panjang dan sangat produktif. Pekakak dan Bangau sepakat untuk berbagi tugas beternak, dan tidak ada diskriminasi yang diizinkan. (...) Namun imbalannya berbeda: Pekakak bertanggung jawab untuk ikan kakap putih dan, dengan demikian, dapat memiliki lebih banyak ikan kakap putih, sedangkan Bangau mendapat ikan mas krusia. Siapapun yang memelihara ikan mana yang lebih banyak akan menikmati 80% dari panen akhir ikan tersebut. Keduanya akan mengevaluasi dan membagi produk ternak pada akhir musim beternak. Ini berarti mengantongi sendiri ikan hasil usaha patungan untuk diri sendiri itu dilarang. (shrink)

Suatu pagi di musim panas, desa burung diselimuti keheningan. Semua orang sibuk mendengarkan pengembara baru. Burung pengembara ini berasal dari keluarga yang tidak jelas; bulunya berwarna-warni, gerak-geriknya lucu, dan ilmunya baru. Dia bercerita seolah-olah sedang memberi ceramah, tepat sekali, warga desa memanggilnya burung Guru – orang yang menjawab setiap pertanyaan aneh warga desa yang rajin belajar. Burung pelatuk telah belajar menangkap cacing di sore hari, sehingga mereka tidak perlu bangun pagi. Burung pipit sekarang tahu cara mencuri beras dari gudang saat (...) sawah mulai kering. Bulbul, sementara itu, telah mengambil kesempatan berkumpul untuk memamerkan kecantikan dan fashion mereka… . (shrink)

First-order evidence is evidence which bears on whether a proposition is true. Higher-order evidence is evidence which bears on whether a person is able to assess her evidence for or against a proposition. A widespread view is that higher-order evidence makes a difference to whether it is rational for a person to believe a proposition. In this paper, I consider in what way higher-order evidence might do this. More specifically, I consider whether and how higher-order evidence plays a role in (...) determining what it is rational to believe distinct from that which first-order evidence plays. To do this, I turn to the theory of reasons, and try to situate higher-order evidence within it. The only place I find for it there, distinct from that which first-order evidence already occupies, is as a practical reason, that is, as a reason for desire or action. One might take this to show either that the theory of reasons is inadequate as it stands or that higher-order evidence makes no distinctive difference to what it is rational to believe. I tentatively endorse the second option. (shrink)

The kind of empathy that is communicated through expressions like “I feel your pain” or “I share your sadness” is important, but peculiar. For it seems to require something perplexing and elusive: sharing another’s experience. It’s not clear how this is possible. We each experience the world from our own point of view, which no one else occupies. It’s also unclear exactly why it is so important that we share others' pains. If you are in pain, then why should it (...) matter, and be a good thing, that I am also in the same pain? Our goal in this paper is to address these questions. Specifically, our goal is to clarify how empathy, in the regimented sense of sharing another’s pain, is possible and why it is important. Central to our account is the concept of being acquainted with—that is, directly aware of—pain. When I feel my own pain, and am acquainted with it, I want the pain to stop, and I’m moved—sometimes compelled—to stop it. My acquaintance with the pain is what reveals that it is no good, to be gotten rid of, and to be avoided in the future. Acquaintance also appears to be implicated in our understanding of, and motivation to relieve, others’ pains. When I say “I feel your pain” I express an awareness of your pain, a direct appreciation of its noxious qualities, and, as with my own pain, an understanding of why it ought to be eased. Explaining how empathy is both possible and important therefore involves clarifying the nature of acquaintance: its limits, epistemic role, and motivational significance. What our analysis reveals is that agents have both epistemic and moral reasons to share other people’s pain because pain-sharing is the source of a species of character-building knowledge that we have no other way of accessing except through direct acquaintance with pain. (shrink)

In England and Wales we have had a National Curriculum since 1988. How can it have survived so long without aims to guide it? This IMPACT pamphlet argues that curriculum planning should begin not with a boxed set of academic subjects of a familiar sort, but with wider considerations of what schools should be for. We first work out a defensible set of wider aims backed by a well-argued rationale. From these we develop sub-aims constituting an aims-based curriculum. Further detail (...) is provided here on one of the most central educational aims, to do with equipping each child to live a flourishing personal and civic life. [A later, more detailed account of an aims-based curriculum is available in Reiss, M and White J <An Aims-based Curriculum: the significance of human flourishing for schools> Institute of Education Press 2013]. (shrink)

This book contributes to two debates and it does so by bringing them together. The first is a debate in metaethics concerning normative reasons, the considerations that serve to justify a person’s actions and attitudes. The second is a debate in epistemology concerning the norms for belief, the standards that govern a person’s beliefs and by reference to which they are assessed. The book starts by developing and defending a new theory of reasons for action, that is, of practical reasons. (...) The theory belongs to a family that analyses reasons by appeal to the normative notion of rightness (fittingness, correctness); it is distinctive in making central appeal to modal notions, specifically, that of a nearby possible world. The result is a comprehensive framework that captures what is common to and distinctive of reasons of various kinds: justifying and demanding; for and against, possessed and unpossessed; objective and subjective. The framework is then generalized to reasons for belief, that is, to epistemic reasons, and combined with a substantive, first-order commitment, namely, that truth is the sole right-maker for belief. The upshot is an account of the various norms governing belief, including knowledge and rationality, and the relations among them. According to it, the standards to which belief is subject are various, but they are unified by an underlying principle. (shrink)

In Aspiration, Agnes Callard examines the phenomenon of aspiration, the process by which one acquires values and becomes a certain kind of person. Aspiring to become a certain type of person involves more than wanting to act in certain ways. We want to come to see the world in a certain way and to develop the dispositions, attributes, and skills that allow us to seamlessly and effectively respond to situations. The skilled athlete or musician, for example, has developed the muscle (...) memory and the perceptual equivalent to naturally see what a situation requires and to respond well, whether playing a Rachmaninoff concerto or returning a tennis volley. -/- I use Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception to flesh out the process of becoming, through which aspired-to values, skills, and characteristics become part of one’s embodied being-in-the-world. Although some rightly focus on Merleau-Ponty’s efforts to avoid over-intellectualizing skillful action, without appreciating his distinction between habitual actions and human (or personal) acts, we overlook an important aspect of robust human agency—the way “a human act becomes dormant and is continued absent-mindedly as a reflex” (90). Merleau-Ponty’s account of habit and its relation to personal acts offers a rich and phenomenologically sensitive picture of aspiration. (shrink)

The Exclusion Argument for physicalism maintains that since (1) every physical effect has a sufficient physical cause, and (2) cases of causal overdetermination are rare, it follows that if (3) mental events cause physical events as frequently as they seem to, then (4) mental events must be physical in nature. In defence of (1), it is sometimes said that (1) is supported if not entailed by conservation laws. Against this, I argue that conservation laws do not lend sufficient support to (...) (1) to render its denial ‘unscientific’, and that those who accept (3) and deny (4) may consequently respond to the Exclusion Argument by denying (1) without thereby setting themselves at odds with current science. I also argue that conservation laws are compatible with (3) and the negation of (4), and that one can therefore accept conservation laws and (3) while denying both (1) and (4). (shrink)

Nuestro interés en el contenido mental no-conceptual es, principalmente, la articulación de una versión sustantiva (no-trivial) de esta clase de contenido en la experiencia perceptual. El debate acerca del contenido no-conceptual ha girado, en su mayor parte, alrededor de su existencia; y los argumentos que se han ofrecido en su favor abogan por una versión no sustantiva según la cual el contenido no-conceptual es aquel que no satisface ciertos requisitos conceptuales. Así, para desarrollar una versión sustantiva del contenido mental no-conceptual (...) hemos apelado a la versión de la experiencia perceptual de propiedades espaciales ofrecida por Evans (1982 cap. 6). A partir de esto desarrollamos un nuevo argumento a favor del contenido no-conceptual de la experiencia perceptual que lo vincula a la actividad característica de la experiencia perceptual. Por último, exponemos uno de los ataques de McDowell (1996) a la noción de contenido no-conceptual y presentamos nuestras réplicas a este ataque, mostrando su insuficiencia. Al mostrar que la crítica de McDowell no es exitosa, consideramos que podríamos tener una versión del contenido no-conceptual de la experiencia que es inmune a esta línea de argumentación. (shrink)

In Sketch for a Theory of the Emotions, Sartre highlights how emotions can transform our perspective on the world in ways that might make our situations more bearable when we cannot see an easy or happy way out. The point of this chapter is to spell out and discuss Sartre’s theory of emotion as presented in the Sketch with two aims in mind. The first is to show that although emotions have the power to transform our perspectives on the world (...) in ways described by Sartre, Sartre is mistaken to think emotions comprise the cognitive transformations in question. The second aim is to show why on one plausible way of thinking about the relationship holding between emotions and the cognitive transformations they help to bring about, emotions turn out to be the very sort of things that Sartre claims at the outset they are not, namely types of bodily feelings or sensations, a view of emotion that can be accredited to William James. (shrink)

Respect for autonomy and beneficence are frequently regarded as the two essential principles of medical ethics, and the potential for these two principles to come into conflict is often emphasised as a fundamental problem. On the one hand, we have the value of beneficence, the driving force of medicine, which demands that medical professionals act to protect or promote the wellbeing of patients or research subjects. On the other, we have a principle of respect for autonomy, which demands that we (...) respect the self-regarding decisions of individuals. As well as routinely coming into opposition with the demands of beneficence in medicine, the principle of respect for autonomy in medical ethics is often seen as providing protection against beneficial coercion (i.e. paternalism) in medicine. However, these two values are not as straightforwardly opposed as they may appear on the surface. In fact, the way that we understand autonomy can lead us to implicitly sanction a great deal of paternalistic action, or can smuggle in paternalistic elements under the guise of respect for autonomy. -/- This paper is dedicated to outlining three ways in which the principle of respect for autonomy, depending on how we understand the concept of autonomy, can sanction or smuggle in paternalistic elements. As the specific relationship between respect for autonomy and beneficence will depend on how we conceive of autonomy, I begin by outlining two dominant conceptions of autonomy, both of which have great influence in medical ethics. I then turn to the three ways in which how we understand or employ autonomy can increase or support paternalism: firstly, when we equate respect for autonomy with respect for persons; secondly, when our judgements about what qualifies as an autonomous action contain intersubjective elements; and thirdly, when we expect autonomy to play an instrumental role, that is, when we expect people, when they are acting autonomously, to act in a way that promotes or protects their own wellbeing. I then provide a proposal for how we might work to avoid this. I will suggest that it may be impossible to fully separate paternalistic elements out from judgements about autonomy. Instead, we are better off looking at why we are motivated to use judgements about autonomy as a means of restricting the actions of patients or research subjects. I will argue that this is a result of discomfort about speaking directly about our beneficent motivations in medical ethics. Perhaps we can reduce the incentive to smuggle in these beneficent motivations under the guise of autonomy by talking directly about beneficent motivations in medicine. This will also force us to recognise paternalistic motivations in medicine when they appear, and to justify paternalism where it occurs. (shrink)