It seems to me that Kripke can avoid this problem since although "water" and "H2O", construed as co-referential natural kind terms, have the same reference, they can still be taken to have distinct Fregean senses. — Pierre-Normand

I suppose it is possible, but he would have to take the senses not to be the sort of descriptive entities that interact with the compositional semantics that they're often taken to be.

Honestly, I don't like Fregean senses, because they correspond to no consistent notion. All that seems to be appealed to in this case is the fact that different words can mean the same thing, and this can be opaque to us. If a 'Fregean sense' is just the word through which we grasp, or fail to grasp, a meaning, so be it: then all that's meant is that there's a way we get to a meaning, i.e. through the very word used to convey it.

It's not irrelevant. It's the central point. If we accept that we could be mistaken in thinking that water is H2O then we accept that "water" and "H2O" don't mean the same thing and so that water isn't necessarily H2O. If we accept that water might actually be H2O2 then we are saying that it's possible that water is hydrogen peroxide. — Michael

Part of Kripke's point is that we can indeed be mistaken about necessary truths – that is, some necessary truths are a posteriori. You are trading on distinct notions of 'possible,' and one possible view, which is Kripke's, is that epistemic possibility (for all we know, water might have been H20) is distinct from, and has wider scope than, metaphysical possibility (water could not have been anything but H20, since it would have to have been not itself, which is metaphysically impossible).

I don't think myself that this is the right way to put it, since if Kripke is right, 'water is H20' just means 'water is water,' and we already knew this trivial proposition a priori. What we learned, if you like, and which is genuinely contingent and a posteriori, is that all along we referred to the same thing with both these words. This is just a fact about linguistic usage (which of course may be a substantive discovery with huge implications, since we resolve what we thought were two things into the true one just by learning this).

No, because I'm stipulating that it's the same glass of water. It's just that in the actual world it's H2O and in a possible world it's H2O2. — Michael

What matters is not the glass, but the material inside of it. If you stipulate that the same glass holds hydrogen peroxide instead of water, then you are supposing that it is not a glass of water, but instead one of hydrogen peroxide.

How is this any different to stipulating that I'm married to the same woman, but that in the actual world she's English and in a possible world she's American? — Michael

Because you are conflating between changing the property of the glass (i.e. as to what material it holds) with changing its contents, from one thing into another. It's fine to suppose the glass is different, and holds something else – what is more mind-boggling is to suppose that the water in the glass is hydrogen peroxide. If you were to ask me to do that, I'd have to say "I don't understand – which am I imagining, that it's water, or that it's hydrogen peroxide?"

It's also no contradiction to imagine that scientists have been mistaken (or lying) and that the chemical composition of water in the actual world really is H2O2. — Michael

Yes, but that's irrelevant. In that case, then 'H202' and 'water' would have meant the same thing, and we made a mistake in thinking that 'H20' and 'water' did. Nothing about Kripke's arguments change. Again, take an example you already agree with.

Things can have more than one name. The liquid we drink can either be called "water" (a common name) or "hydrogen peroxide" (a scientific name, referring to its chemical composition), so water and hydrogen peroxide are the same thing, and H2O is something else. This might be false, but it's not a contradiction. — Michael

The point is not about what names a thing can be given. Of course we can imagine that hydrogen peroxide was called 'water'. That wouldn't make it water – it would just have the same name that water now has. It would nonetheless be a distinct substance.

And 'hydrogen peroxide,' crucially, is not a name for water in the actual world.

And in my case the individual is "this glass of water" and the counterfactual property is the chemical composition. — Michael

Then what you are supposing is that the glass of water had instead been a glass of hydrogen peroxide.

Well that's what I'm calling into question. I might counter by saying that the term "water" refers to whatever liquid makes up the Earth's oceans and falls from the clouds as rain and that in some possible world the chemical composition of that liquid is H2O2. That water is H2O is just a contingent fact about the actual world, much like Earth being the third rock from the Sun. — Michael

Whether 'water' really means the same as 'h20' is debatable, and I think probably false. But this was just a stock example Kripke used, so too much importance shouldn't be placed on it. It would be better to pick an example you agree on, and use that. Kripke's claim is that both expressions are to be taken as naming a certain kind of thing, and not offering a description of some sort, whose exemplifier might vary from world to world.

In fact, your suggestion doesn't disambiguate between these two possibilities. Of course water is the substance that fills the oceans, etc. Does that mean that the word 'water' means the same as 'the substance that fills the oceans...', etc. No, obviously these do not mean the same, since it is no contradiction to imagine instead that the oceans had been filled with mercury, and in doing so we are imagining a different sate of affairs, a way things could have been, but aren't.

That said, we might say that what water is is just that stuff, and to get an idea of what we mean by
'that stuff,' we say, the stuff that actually fills the oceans, etc. right now. Then by water we still mean just that substance, and the term rigidly designates that substance. But we used a description in the actual world to give people an idea of which substance we meant.

So I'm saying that in one possible world water is hydrogen peroxide. — Michael

I must confess, to me this sounds like a contradiction, and I do not know how to suppose such a thing – it is like supposing that 2 and 3 make 6, or something like that. If it were hydrogen peroxide, well then, it would be hydrogen peroxide, not water.

Of course, you can imagine a world in which hydrogen peroxide falls from the sky, and fills the oceans, and people drink it, and in which it therefore plays a similar role as the role played by water actually. But then, you are not imagining a world in which water does these things, but in which hydrogen peroxide does, which is something different. Perhaps by 'water is hydrogen peroxide,' you are speaking metaphorically, and mean only that hydrogen peroxide fills the same role as water does actually. But taken literally, it is a difficult claim to make sense of.

And if the Taj Mahal is made of bricks then it makes no sense to stipulate that in a possible world it's made of wood? Or if my name is Michael then it makes no sense to stipulate that in a possible world my name is Andrew? — Michael

No, it is perfectly possible to stipulate that an individual may have had some properties other than what it has (being made of something different, or having a different name).

What makes less sense is to stipulate that one object is identical to another in some other possible world. If 'water' means the same as 'H20,' the idea is that you could not refute this by stipulating that a glass of water held H202. H202, you will note, is not water, but hydrogen peroxide.

My point is not that you think this, but that you think that Kripke does. In other words, you are confused about what the technical term "rigid designator" means.

But then that makes the notion of rigid designators philosophically uninteresting. I simply stipulate that in one possible world the Taj Mahal is made of wood and that this glass of water is composed of H2O2, and so I've declared Kripke's claim that water is necessarily H2O to be wrong (and then he's stipulated something else and so declared his claim correct). — Michael

If water is H20, it makes no sense to 'stipulate' that a glass of water does not hold H20. Perhaps 'water' doesn't really mean the same as 'H20' – probably, it does not.

All this has nothing to do with the force of Kripke's arguments that names are rigid designators, and not disguised predicates of some sort.

a great deal less has accompanied the question of felicity. — StreetlightX

This is just not true.

What makes it the case that one thing in one possible world and one thing in another possible world are the same thing? — Michael

This is a misunderstanding of the Kripkean position. According to Kripke, we can speak of the same individual in distinct possible worlds. This is just a way of talking about the very same individual in two possible scenarios, which is something we do all the time. There is thus no problem of 'trans-world identity,' since it makes no sense to ask, of two individuals we 'look at' in possible worlds, in virtue of what they are the same. We are already speaking of the same individual by stipulation, as it might have been in various scenarios. As Kripke says, it is not as if we are taking a telescope and viewing far-off places with different objects in them, and then deciding post hoc on criteria to say they are 'the same.' This is the position of David Lewis with his counterpart theory – that is one possible interpretation of possible worlds, but as with Lewis' modal realism, is not mainstream.

A "Venus" in another (possible) world is not our Venus. Therefore, one can only be call both "Venus" by equivocation or by universal predication. — Dfpolis

There is, according to Kripke, no "second Venus" off in another world. To speak of Venus in another possible world is just to speak of Venus, that very same individual, as it might have been. You are imagining possible worlds as if they were foreign countries filled with distinct objects, but this is not what Kripke takes possible worlds to be. Again, read Naming and Necessity. Your objections are misinformed.

You are under the impression that a rigid designator is a term that could not have meant anything other than what it actually means. This is not what a rigid designator is. Rigid designation pertains to the meaning of a term as it actually is (or as it is in some single possible world). It is a contingent fact that a word is a rigid designator; and being a rigid designator means that it, in that contingent state of affairs, has the same denotation relative to all possible worlds.

You won't be able to mount a coherent criticism until you understand the subject. Read Naming and Necessity, or the article again more carefully.

Then you should have read this in it, for instance, at the beginning of section 1.2:

First, a rigid designator is used in a certain way in the actual world. Given that meaning, it designates the same object with respect to all possible worlds, regardless of how this term is used, or not used, in those other possible worlds...

which would have told you that this purported objection is misguided:

Or, how anyone can know what "Hesperus" and "Phosphorus" mean to the denizens of a possible world. — Dfpolis

A term being a rigid designator does not mean that the term means the same thing as used in any possible world, as if the word itself necessarily meant a certain thing, and couldn't have been used another way. Rather, it means that its actual meaning is such that, as evaluated in the modal logic with respect to other worlds, its denotation is constant.

Feel free to tell me why 'Hesperus is Phosphorus' is metaphysically necessary when it is actually false. Or, how anyone can know what "Hesperus" and "Phosphorus" mean to the denizens of a possible world. Or, how a proper name can be universally predicated and remain a proper name. — Dfpolis

If you're going to rail against someone's claims, it would be best to read that person's work and understand what those claims are first.

Dfpolis: you can stop writing paragraphs and paragraphs of text. Read my previous posts – you're uninformed about this matter. Read up on it. You're wasting energy.

Is there an a priori possible world in which one planet appear in the sky in the evening and another in the morning? I don't see why not. It might be argued that such a world would violate some law of nature, but the laws of nature are known a posteriori. So, if you use this argument, "Hesperus is identical with Phosphorus" not by necessity, but contingently.

So, Kirpke is pulling a swindle. There is nothing about "Hesperus is identical with Phosphorus" that makes it anything but contingent. "Hesperus" does not mean "Venus." it means a planet seen in the evening, which we have since identified as Venus. Similarly, "Phosphorus" does not mean "Venus." It means a planet seen in the morning, which we have since identified as Venus.

Now you can say that "Hesperus" and "Phosphorus" are "rigid designaters," but there is no intelligible property that allows us to determine one way or the other if they are. Then, you can hypothesize people in all possible worlds will apply these terms as we do. Again, there is no factual basis for doing so. Then, because of these arbitrary and baseless constructs, you can say that "Hesperus is identical with Phosphorus" is necessarily true.

Clearly, the conclusion is nonsense, because "necessarily," does not even follow the norms of possible worlds talk. There are many worlds that seem perfectly possible where this is not so, but they are excluded by hypothesis and arbitrary dictate. — Dfpolis

This fundamentally misunderstands Kripke. Read Naming and Necessity.

This thread is confused. Possible worlds are pieces of a technical apparatus that allow a model-theoretic interpretation of a language with modal operators. They have no metaphysical or ontological import in of themselves – only a supplementary theory as to what they are intended to model can provide this. If you want to get into possible world semantics, my suggestion would be to actually study the formal systems themselves, rather than leaping into metaphysical speculation about its consequences – this is useless unless you first know what you're dealing with.

It is possible to be a realist about possible worlds, like David Lewis, but his position isn't one anybody takes seriously. If you're curious about what the more or less mainstream position is regarding them, check out Jaakko Hintikka's 1969 chapter, 'Semantics for Propositional Attitudes.'

http://web.maths.unsw.edu.au/~jim/wrongthoughts.html

Well-said, but I'd put it slightly differently: philosophy isn't the study of such confusions, but the participation in / performance of such confusions. — Snakes Alive

I say this to emphasize that to get away from these issues, we must genuinely apostatize from philosophy. Wittgenstein, whatever his merits, was still a philosopher, and as a personality extremely ill-suited to the abandonment of the field. He is, if you like, a struggling Christian in various stages of retreat and denial. What is needed is a new generation to think about philosophy without being philosophers, in the way that we have scholars of religious texts who are themselves in no way religious. Philosophy is a field of linguistic error not to be engaged with on its own terms, but externally, from an understanding of language that itself owes nothing to the games that philosophers attempt, and fail, to play with language.

In this way, in the vein of David Stoves's 'neo-positivism,' philosophy itself offers us not a field to engage with, but an empirical laboratory for such confusions and errors – we see them forming, as case studies and as a broader social phenomenon, in real time.

The vast majority of philosophical problems derive from grammatical muddles; here I am using "grammar" in the broad sense of the structure of language and language games. Indeed I am tempted to say if it's not a grammatical problem, it's not a philosophical problem - it belongs to some other field.; That is, it is tempting to posit that philosophy is exactly the study of confusions of language — Banno

Well-said, but I'd put it slightly differently: philosophy isn't the study of such confusions, but the participation in / performance of such confusions.

I share the positivist view that there is something 'wrong' with philosophy, that the questions it asks are somehow confused. Philosophy therefore can't be addressed on philosophical terms, any more than you can cure schizophrenia by arguing with the schizophrenic about the nature of the voices they hear. Phil. of language is an appealing entry point into this view, but I don't think it's had much success beyond specific cases.

A sociological and historical understanding needs to be brought to bear, that doesn't take for granted philosophy's own (IMO delusional) assumptions about itself, but addresses the rise of philosophy, and the reason for its defectiveness, non-philosophically. In the Western tradition specifically, this must be done with an understanding of how philosophy and sophistry are historically linked, and how Socratic philosophy began over puzzlement in strange ways of employing language, especially in response to the sophists' deliberately using language to conjure fallacies.

Philosophy as a discipline in the West originated from sophistry, both literally/historically and spiritually – the point of it is to foster endless argument over verbal fallacies (this is what the Socratic method, as practiced in the Platonic dialogues, amounts to). Of course, philosophers themselves, who are inside the circle, don't see their discipline in this way – they think that they are thinking deeply about big questions. But, this is the mythology of their origin, same as religious people who think that Moses wrote the Penteteuch. They have an etiological and justificatory view of what philosophy is, which, like all founding myths, isn't true.

Religious belief is generally similarly deluded about its origins and function, but its function is not to sustain verbal quibbles, and so it tends to have more substance. Your religious beliefs, to some extent, matter – your philosophical ones don't, outside of an academy.

No, "speak" in English isn't a conventionalized performative.

As points out, you can coerce it into sounding like a performative in some contexts, but even this strikes me as a rather strained and creative use of language, and certainly not conventionalized (like, say, "I object," or "I resign").

I've never met anyone who claimed otherwise. Many trans people come to realize that they are trans.

When men or women sit around talking about their shared experiences as men/women, what are they talking about? Incredibly, it must be an experience they do not share. It must be that there is nothing it is like to be a man or a woman – these incredibly salient features have no effect on one's experience of the world.

But being a golfer does. Playing golf is something people can have a shared experience of – not being a man or a woman.

Is this a plausible thing to think?

I did – I don't know what you want.

So being a golfer involves shared experience, but being a woman doesn't?

Why not? You don't think professional golfers can talk about that for hours together over a beer?

I'm not sure I understand the question. Are you expressing skepticism about the ability to communicate feelings through linguistic reports or actions?

They could tell you, you could notice their reactions to things, etc.

you do not have access to how other women feel about themselves. — Banno

Why not?

So you are happy that there is no difference between "How are you feeling?" and "What is it like to be you?" — Banno

The former seems to imply a stage-level or momentary inquiry, the latter an individual-level or habitual inquiry.

Hence the error here:

As if how you feel is not subject to change... — Banno

Because how you feel might change continually. — Banno

Nonetheless, there are patterns characteristic of the way one feels over time.

This isn't right. There are simple answers one can give to the question – it sucks, it feels great, it's fun, it has its ups and downs, etc.

The principle appealed to here, that one can't know what it's like to be oneself without being something else, I see no reason to believe.

Well, according Sapientia, there's no rocket science here. Keeping in mind that all he offers is seat-of-the-pants navigation, what do you have that's better? We all seem to agree (I think) that there is no "acid" test. — tim wood

I think that a homosexual is someone who is exclusively sexually attracted to members of their own sex.

So I offer this as a definition of "homosexual": whatever a self-proclaimed homosexual says it is, whenever it should please him to say it. — tim wood

You can't possibly believe this?

Dictionary of the Khazars: A Lexicon Novel in 100,000 Words – Milorad Pavic

Yeah, the effectiveness of the conditional switching strategy is a red herring that is irrelevant to the puzzle, so I didn't want to touch it. The thing to address now is that this strategy is not even actually what's recommended by Michael's position. If he is right, you ought to switch no matter what.

Your reasoning suggests that you ought to switch unconditionally.

What do you think about the empirical outcome of switching? Does it help?

That is, if you were actually to play the game (say over a huge number of trials), would you try switching every time in hopes of getting more money? Do you think it would work?

It is not ill-defined. The game described is one we can actually go out and play. I am asking about if we actually go out and play the game, what will actually happen? Will switching get me more money on average?

Can you answer the question?