Poetry's Secret Truth

Philosophy

Poetry's Secret Truth From the Beauty of Words to the Knowledge of Spirit by Mark F. Sharlow ii Poetry's Secret Truth Revised Edition Copyright © 2004 Mark F. Sharlow. All rights reserved. Updated 2010. iii Table of Contents 1. Prelude 1 2. A Different Kind of Fact 2 3. A Secret and a Wider View 4 4. In the Mind, or in the Tree? 6 5. Art, Science, or Both? 8 6. A Key to the Spirit 10 7. A Surprising Conclusion 12 About the Author 13 Credits and Notes 14 1 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 1. Prelude Poetry, it is said, can reveal truth. Yet despite the best efforts of philosophers and poets to describe this truth, very few understand what kinds of truth poetry can convey.* One fact seems clear: only a few of the truths of poetry can be captured equally well in prose. Poetry also conveys truths of a different kind - truths that seem to exist on a level entirely different level from that of ordinary, factual truth. Some poems try to teach moral or practical lessons that also could be stated in prose.* But this is not the kind of truth that puzzles philosophers and critics. Poetry also can tell another kind of truth - a truth that may be mystifying to scholars, but that is well known to anyone who becomes acquainted with poetry in an intimate way. This kind of truth cannot be spoken of or contemplated on the same terms as ordinary fact. What is the nature of this strange, yet familiar kind of knowledge that poetry can bring to the human mind? ---------------- * * Important Note: In this book I discuss a number of ideas originated or discussed by other authors, plus some ideas of my own that are close to other authors' ideas. I have cited these items (and others) by placing asterisks near them and listing them by page number in the "Credits and Notes" section. This lessens the distracting effect of the notes. 2 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 2. A Different Kind of Fact The special knowledge that poetry brings has many aspects. One of these aspects - perhaps the most basic - is the knowledge of subjective facts. What is a subjective fact? A subjective fact is a fact about how things seem to some conscious being.* These facts are different from the ordinary, objective facts that we usually recognize as "facts." When you encounter a flowering apple tree in spring, the fact that the tree is a certain number of feet tall is an objective fact. But the way the tree seems to you - the look of its leaves and flowers, the rustling noises it makes in the wind, the feelings and thoughts it brings to mind - all this is a matter of subjective fact. Subjective facts are facts about how things seem to a particular observer at a particular moment. They are facts about how the world seems in a certain momentary instance of conscious experience. Poetry, with its known power to evoke experiences and associations,* is able to express subjective facts about a thing or situation. Poetry, at its best, can evoke a new realm of subjective facts for its reader. This realm may involve feelings, thoughts, and sensations that are new to the reader, along with others that are more familiar.* In either case, this realm of subjective fact is new, because it differs from the domain of subjective facts that came with the more routine experiences that the reader was having before reading the poem. Some people regard poetry as a record of experiences or feelings. This belief can be the case if the poem creates for the reader subjective facts like those that the poet has experienced, or like those that the poet wanted to evoke. (The same is true of other arts besides poetry. Much of what I will say here also holds true for the other arts.) The subjective facts that poetry can evoke are inner facts of sensation, feeling, and 3 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth perception. These facts can encompass a wide spectrum of contents, ranging from familiar emotions (happiness, longing, concern) and sensations (colors, sounds, scents), to content of a far subtler and more enigmatic sort. These subtler contents include such things as the elusive, almost indescribable sensations that fill one's awareness when one encounters a flowering apple tree in spring. Anyone who has fully and deeply experienced an apple tree in full flower in a rolling, rustling spring meadow will know what I mean by this. Anyone who has become fully aware of the mysterious looming of the clouds in the hours before rain, or of the charged, green freshness after the rain, or of the almost audible silence of some warm summer afternoons, will know whereof I speak. The best poetry evokes not only the coarser sensations and emotions, but these subtle feelings and sensations as well.* The subtle impressions that poetry can communicate could be described as feelings, but they have little in common with the noisy and simplistic emotions of everyday life. Often, these feelings seem more like sensations or perceptions than feelings - but perhaps they can be all of these at once. Poetry, at its best, is capable of evoking subtle experiences of this kind. It is capable of putting the reader in a frame of mind from which he or she may become more aware of the fullness of subjective experience, and hence of subjective fact. 4 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 3. A Secret and a Wider View It is no secret that in ordinary life, we tend to experience only a few of the impressions that we can receive from the world.* We pass by the apple tree inattentively, thinking of something else. We may note its more obvious features - that it is tall, has leaves on it, and so forth - but we miss the full inflowing of experience. Poetry makes possible the experience of a much fuller range of subjective facts - of subjectively beheld characteristics of things and of the world around us.* The evocation of a widened range of subjective facts is not the only possible function of poetry. However, it is this function that most concerns me personally. In my view, this is the most important function of poetry. The other functions of poetry depend on this function, in the sense that the other impacts of poetry can occur best (or only) when subjective facts are effectively evoked. In some instances, a poem actually may communicate subjective facts from the poet to the reader. This is what happens when a poem succeeds in communicating feelings and experiences as the poet intended.* In other instances, a poem simply reminds the reader of subjective facts of which he or she already is subliminally aware, but has not given proper attention.* The successful evocation of subjective facts requires an effort on the reader's part as well as skill on the part of the poet. The poem must be read, not just mechanically traced over with the mind. It is well known that the reading of a poem requires the active use of the imagination.* The realm of subjective fact that a good poem brings to light includes things of which we normally fail to be aware. Thus, poetry does not only tell the truth; it also tells a secret. The secret is the new realm of experience and feeling that poetry reveals. No one 5 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth is hiding this "secret" from us. Usually we hide it from ourselves. One can ask several philosophical questions about subjective facts. Some of these questions have a bearing on what I am saying about poetry. The first of these questions is whether subjective facts belong to the real world, as objective facts supposedly do, or whether they are imaginary, unreal, or "all in the mind." The answer to this question is not obvious, but is simple: yes, subjective facts belong to reality. When you experience a certain impression while contemplating an apple tree in spring, it is a fact that this impression occurred. This fact, though subjective, is objectively true - it really is true that things seemed just that way at that moment. A subjective fact, though truly subjective, also is as objective as any so-called "objective" fact. Normally we do not understand the relationship between the subjective and the real.* We regard the realm of the subjective as merely imaginary and not real - whereas actually, facts about how things seem are as true as any other facts in the world. This is the case whether the subjective facts result from sense experiences or from pure imagination. Strangely enough, subjective facts are objective!* Of course, there is no real contradiction in this. It is one of those paradoxes that flouts our assumptions but nevertheless happens to be true. Of course, this objectivity of subjective fact does not imply that everything which seems to be the case really is the case in the physical world. By saying that subjective facts are objective, I am not saying that because someone sees a unicorn in a dream, there really is a one-horned, physically existent animal. Instead, I am saying that there is a fact that that there seemed to be a unicorn - and that fact is totally objective. The facts about how things seem are the subjective facts of the world. (Whether there ever were unicorns in the past is a zoological question that I won't take up here!) 6 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 4. In the Mind, or in the Tree? Another, related, philosophical problem is the question of whether the subjective facts can be said to be facts about the external world at all. Think about the flowering apple tree again. Don't the subjective facts evoked by the tree come from processes in the observer's mind or brain, instead of from anything in the apple tree? My answer to this question is twofold. First, the existence of subjective facts does indeed depend upon the state and presence of the observer. Second, the subjective facts are not just features of the observer's mind or brain. They are real features of the observer plus the object being observed. The whole system, observer plus object (in other words, you plus apple tree), is the source or seat of the subjective fact. The experience is an experience of the object, not only an experience in the observer. Subjective facts are not "only in the mind." They are characteristics of the observerobject couple. They are relative, but only in the same way that certain measurable features of the physical world are relative. According to modern physics, the size and mass of an object depend upon the state of the observer (specifically, the observer's state of motion) as well as upon properties of the object in itself. But this relativity of size and mass does not mean that an object's size and mass are unreal or are "all in the mind." Subjective facts, like facts of size and mass, are simply relative to the state of the observer. However, in the case of subjective facts, it is the observer's state of mind, not state of motion, which matters. In spite of their dependence on the observer's mental state, the subjective facts about the apple tree are every bit as real - or as unreal - as the tree's size or mass. This relativity of subjective facts also encompasses what happens when people experience very different things during encounters with the same object. A particular 7 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth scene may seem happy to one person, sad to another - perhaps due to the observers' past experiences, mental associations, and the like. This only means that the subjective facts depend on the state of the observer as well as upon the state of the object. It does not mean that the subjective facts are unreal. One can think of the many possible subjective appearances of an object as possibilities inherent in the object* - all of them equally real features of the object, or perhaps of the world. Some possibilities may be more crucial, or more important to our understanding, than others. Yet all of the possibilities are there, and all of them are parts of reality. (Philosophers belonging to the school of thought called phenomenology have argued that we should take into account the multiple possible ways of perceiving things. What I am proposing is different, with a different range of possibilities, and involves something more - an additional element or factor.) Some people believe that poetry can help the mind to grasp the true nature of things - that poetic experience can produce a deeper contact with reality, and a more complete view of reality, than can ordinary experience.* When we consider poetry in the light of the objective reality of subjective fact, we begin to see that this must be the case. Poetry, then, can speak the truth - a truth different from the truths of intellect. Poetry is capable of revealing, or pointing to, the rich stratum of subjective fact that permeates the world in which we live, and that often goes almost entirely unnoticed during our routine, unobservant existence. 8 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 5. Art, Science, or Both? Another philosophical question about poetry concerns the relationship between poetry and science. It has been said that poetry and science make use of different ranges of experience, and that poetry can treat of any subject matter.* Is the truth that poetry can speak related to scientific truth? Is there any common ground? To address this question, we must face up to an important fact about science: that scientific knowledge, like poetic knowledge, is based on subjective facts. Scientific conclusions are supposed to stand or fall according to the evidence provided by experiment and observation. The data of experiment and observation ultimately grow from the soil of someone's experience. A physicist sees a meter pointing to a certain number. A biologist observes a particular bird engaging in a particular mating ritual. A chemist hears a hissing noise when chemicals are mixed, and sees a certain color change. All scientific knowledge, if it is indeed scientific, is judged by means of experience - and hence by means of subjective facts. This is not to say that science is based only on subjective facts. But science does require subjective facts and cannot exist without them. Science rests upon experience, and hence upon subjective facts. It is interesting to realize that the subjective facts which science requires form a very narrow subset of the total fullness of subjective facts available to human consciousness.* The sensation of a meter reading - of a needle pointing to the number 2, for example - provides a subjective fact that science might need. The fact that a flowering apple tree in spring looks a certain way - a certain unique, indescribable way - involves a subjective fact that science overlooks, but that is equally real and true. (A scientist who is a 9 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth psychologist instead of a physicist might even use someone's report about the apple tree as data for a theory about human experience. But even this does not amount to the use of the subjective fact itself as data.) Poetry, unlike science, can take the way the apple tree seems as "data." Poetry also could take as "data" the way the physicist's meter looks - if some poet cared to take the meter as a subject of a poem. Poetry has no restrictions on the range of subjective facts it can explore. Science deliberately restricts its attention to a narrow set of subjective facts. 10 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 6. A Key to the Spirit The deep relationship between poetry and subjective facts brings us to a crucial observation about poetry. This is that poetry, through its power to reveal subjective facts, actually reveals the realm of the spirit to the human mind. What is the spirit? This is an ancient and persistent question. We do not have to have a complete answer to this question to see where poetry can lead us. Different religions and philosophies have different ideas about the exact nature of the human spirit. Many teachings, both religious and philosophical, hold that the spirit is something besides the body. Some philosophies teach that the spirit is simply an aspect of the activity of the human body, especially of the brain. Some people feel that the spirit is the same as the personality or mind. Others believe that the spirit is something more than, and deeper than, what we usually call the mind or personality. Yet all of these systems of belief have something in common. All of them connect the concept of spirit with the concept of consciousness. And all of these belief systems are right about this. A being with spirit can only be a conscious being. It cannot be an unconscious, dead lump devoid of any awareness. Such a lump would be lacking in spirit. (I am not claiming that such a lump really could exist. Some people, including the noted philosopher Leibniz, have even thought that everything contains spirit or consciousness.* But that is a separate question that I will not try to answer here.) Spirit, whatever it may be, involves consciousness. Even the unconscious mind, which some people regard as having spiritual qualities, is not truly "unconscious"; it is mental in character, is connected to the conscious mind, and may well be a kind of consciousness itself.* Spirit involves consciousness. Consciousness, in turn, always involves subjective fact. 11 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth Philosophers have long noted that the most distinctive feature of consciousness is its subjective side - the inner experience or "feel" of being conscious. A being that lacks this subjective side would not be truly conscious, even if it appeared to act at times like a conscious being. At best, it would be a mere robot.* Without subjective facts, there is no real consciousness at all. Because spirit involves consciousness and consciousness involves subjective fact, we must conclude that spirit, whatever it may actually be, involves subjective fact in an essential way. At least some of the subjective facts that conscious beings can encounter are spiritual facts. But are not all subjective facts ultimately spiritual in character? Subjective facts are facts of a special kind. They are not like facts about the visible behavior of the human body, or about the outward physical characteristics of conscious beings or of physical objects. Subjective facts pertain to the subjective "feel" of conscious experience  the aspect of conscious experience that makes experience truly conscious, truly personal, truly "alive," and truly inner. Thus, all subjective facts belong to the spiritual side of conscious experience. This is the case even though only some subjective facts have to do with what we normally call "spirituality." The realm of subjective facts is a spiritual realm. Depending on one's personal beliefs about the spirit, one might want to regard the realm of subjective facts as only a part of spiritual reality, instead of as the whole. But whatever one's view on this question, subjective facts still are facts of spirit. All conscious experience reveals subjective facts, and hence contains a spiritual element. The more that we notice the world around us with all its qualities and possibilities, the greater this spiritual element in experience will be. Anything that lets the mind encompass a larger realm of subjective fact is a key to a broader knowledge of the spirit. Poetry, which is the key to new worlds of subjective fact, can perform that function. 12 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth 7. A Surprising Conclusion The ideas that I have presented here imply a rather dramatic conclusion: that poetry can reveal many actual facts about the world, and some of those facts are beyond the scope of science.* What is more, those facts tell us something about the world of spirit. This conclusion does not make science any less true, objective, or important. In its own sphere of operation, science sets the standard and calls the tune. But there are areas of reality, and not only of reality but of fact, into which scientific theory and observation simply cannot enter. What is found in these areas - in the greater parts of the realm of subjective fact - can be expressed and evoked by means of poetry. And these areas lie within the realm that we call the spiritual. This conclusion will remain true even if science someday manages to explain how the human mind experiences things. Some people - who, for reasons of their own, choose to regard the meter readings more highly than the tree - will argue that the experience of seeing an apple tree can be explained completely in terms of the activity of the brain. I will not comment on this argument here, except to point out that such a complete explanation does not exist and may, for all we know today, be impossible. But even if a physical cause for subjective facts were found, the realm of subjective facts would continue to be real, and the truth and meaning of subjective facts would remain unchanged. Poetry indeed conveys truth - and this truth remains true, regardless of whether its roots lie partly in the earth or entirely in some other world. 13 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth About the Author Mark F. Sharlow is both a philosopher and a scientist. He holds a Ph.D. degree in chemistry, and has worked as a chemistry professor and as a scientific computer programmer in the space field. His philosophical work has been published in the philosophy journals Notre Dame Journal of Formal Logic, Analysis, and The Journal of Symbolic Logic. His scientific work (done alone or with coauthors) has appeared in Annals of Physics, Journal of Physical Chemistry, and other journals. He has written a full-length philosophical book, From Brain to Cosmos (Parkland, FL: Universal Publishers / uPUBLISH.com, 2001), which is the source for some of the ideas used in the book you are now reading. Dr. Sharlow's e-mail address (at time of this publication) is email@example.com. 14 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth Credits and Notes In this book I have discussed several ideas and questions about the truth and meaning of poetry, and have tried to assess these ideas and questions in terms of my own concept of subjective fact. I am not, by any means, the first to write about these topics concerning poetry, or to argue for the reality of poetic truth. I have learned much from those who came before. I wish to acknowledge particularly the work of Clyde S. Kilby, who, in his book Poetry and Life (reprint ed.; Plainview, NY: Books for Libraries Press, 1975), has given an able presentation of many key questions and ideas about poetry. Several of the page-numbered notes below point out specific instances in which I have discussed ideas and problems mentioned in Kilby's book, or in which I have come to conclusions similar to Kilby's views or to other ideas mentioned in Kilby's book. Also, I am grateful to Kilby for his clear overall treatment of the problems of poetic truth and meaning and of the nature of poetry. (See especially Chapters 1-2 and pp. 325-328 of Poetry and Life.) The idea of subjective fact is developed in my earlier (and much longer) book, From Brain to Cosmos (Parkland, FL: Universal Publishers / uPUBLISH.com, 2001). In that book, I introduced the notion of subjective fact in a more technical way, and explored the relationship of subjective facts to philosophical knowledge. Some of the philosophical ideas used in the book you are now reading - including the objectivity of subjective fact and the conscious character of the unconscious mind - are developed and explained more fully in From Brain to Cosmos. (However, From Brain to Cosmos is not a book about poetry.) 15 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth Specific Notes: Page 1 (and elsewhere): The idea that poetry can reveal truth and convey knowledge is a very old idea. Kilby accepts this view (see Kilby, Chs. 1-2, pp. 325-328, and especially pp. 70-77). Page 1, "Some poems ... in prose": I am thinking particularly of didactic poetry (on which see Kilby, pp. 328-331). Page 2: The notion of subjective fact is developed in From Brain to Cosmos. Pages 2 and 3: Kilby discusses the power of poetry to evoke experiences, including familiar ones (see Kilby, Ch. 2). Page 3, "... subtle feelings and sensations ...": Compare Kilby, pp. 326-328. Page 4, first two paragraphs (especially the sentence "It is no secret ... from the world"): Kilby, pp. 56-57. Page 4, "This is what happens ... the poet intended.": On the capacity of poetry to communicate feelings and experiences, see Kilby, pp. 65-69. Page 4, "In other instances ... proper attention.": See Kilby, p. 64. Page 4, "It is well known ... of the imagination.": See Kilby, p. 24. Page 5, last two paragraphs: Presumably this is part of the reason why imagination can reveal reality. (See Kilby, pp. 325-327.) Note also that the idea of the objectivity of subjective fact is developed in From Brain to Cosmos. 16 Mark F. Sharlow Poetry's Secret Truth Page 7, "One can think of ... inherent in the object": The possibilities I have in mind here may include, but are not restricted to, the imaginative possibilities noted by Kilby (pp. 5759). Page 7, "Some people believe ... than can ordinary experience.": This idea (which has a long lineage) is discussed, and relevant references are cited, in Kilby's book (Chs. 1-2, especially pp. 8-11, and pp. 325-328). Page 8, "It has been said that poetry and science make use of different ranges of experience, ...": Kilby, pp. 70-75, and references therein. Page 8, "... and that poetry can treat of any subject matter.": Kilby, p. 3 Page 8, last paragraph, and Page 9, first paragraph: Some ideas like these are explored in Kilby, pp. 71-73, and references therein. Page 10: On G.W. von Leibniz's idea mentioned here, see his book Monadology (which exists in various editions). Page 10: The idea that the unconscious mind has a kind of consciousness is discussed in From Brain to Cosmos. Page 11, "At best, it would be a mere robot.": Various philosophers have speculated on the possibility of a being that acts just like a human being but has no experiences. They call this imaginary being a "zombie" - though it isn't much like the zombies of Haitian occultism! Page 12, first and second paragraphs: The notes for Page 1 (first note) and for Pages 8-9 are applicable here as well.


'Shared agency', Gilbert, and deep continuity

Philosophy

I compare Bratmanâs theory with Gilbertâs. I draw attention to their
          similarities, query Bratmanâs claim that his theory is the more parsimonious, and point to one theoretical advantage of Gilbertâs theory.

Journal of Social Ontology 2015; 1(1): 49–57 Book Symposium Open Access Thomas H. Smith Shared Agency on Gilbert and Deep Continuity Abstract: I compare Bratman's theory with Gilbert's. I draw attention to their similarities, query Bratman's claim that his theory is the more parsimonious, and point to one theoretical advantage of Gilbert's theory. Keywords: Michael Bratman; Margaret Gilbert; Shared agency; Shared intention; Joint commitment. DOI 10.1515/jso-2014-0045 In a number of texts and now this outstanding book, Michael Bratman postulates shared intention as an explanation of shared action.1 Margaret Gilbert, also in a number of important books and articles, postulates joint commitment as an explanation of acting together.2 Here, I try to bring into sharper focus the similarities and differences between Bratmanian shared intention (BSI) and Gilbertian joint commitment (GJC). To do this in the space allowed, I must paint with a broad brush. I hope both authors forgive me for glossing over some of the details of their views. Bratman and Gilbert appear to have more or less the same explanandum in mind. They use the same introductory examples of dancing, building, walking, talking etc. together, as well as others that make it clear that the 'togetherness' in question is not, and does not entail proximity. Bratman adds to his pre-theoretical sketch a contrast with strategic interaction, of which actions productive of a Nash Thomas H. Smith, Philosophy, University of Manchester, Oxford Road, Manchester, M13 9PL, UK, e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.com 1 All references are to Michael Bratman (2014), Shared Agency: A Planning Theory of Acting Together, except where stated. The book restricts its focus to modest shared action, by which Bratman (6–7) means shared action absent (i) asymmetrical authority relations (ii) inclusion of the group within a legal institution and (iii) turnover of agents. 2 Margaret Gilbert's most recent collection on the topic is Gilbert M. (2013) Joint Commitment Oxford: OUP. ©2014, Thomas H. Smith, published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 License. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM 50 Thomas H. Smith equilibrium are perhaps a paradigm case.3 Our individual actions may be mutually responsive; in addition, there may be a readily available description of what we collectively accomplish (e.g. the painting of a house) that, in other circumstances, describes an action; still, for Bratman (and I take it Gilbert also) this is not sufficient for the target phenomenon. What is necessary and sufficient is that we act in partnership or collaboration in a sense that does not rule out our having diverse and perhaps egoistic and competitive motives and goals, but which does imply that we regard each other, well..., as partners, hence as more than elements of a background of circumstances.4 It is this that Bratman and Gilbert set out to explain. Bratman and Gilbert agree also on several features of the explanans of this phenomenon. First, that it is, to put it broadly, a shared practical commitment which is, at least in part, a creature of its parties' wills, and which is characterized by its psychological and action-guiding role, and norms of practical rationality, which, by and large, are accepted and on that basis conformed to. Second, that this is a plural analogue of a state of individual practical commitment. In particular it has an analogous psychological role, and is guided by analogous norms. Hence, for Bratman, just as individual intention is the answer to Wittgenstein's question as to the difference between one's arm rising and one's raising of one's arm, so "shared intention [is] central to our answer to our social analogue of Wittgenstein's question."5 And likewise, for Gilbert, a joint commitment is "the collective analogue of a personal commitment",6 where, as she sees it: A personal decision, intention, and so on, gives rise to what may be called a personal commitment... I unilaterally create my personal commitments. I decide, intend... thereby committing myself.7 Third, that while the postulated shared state is one that some human agents are in, or have, hence, somewhat trivially, a state that has them as its subject or subjects, it does not in general depend for its existence on any psychological subject or subject of experience, further to these individual human agents. Nor does it modify any mind, other than their minds. (I here endorse Bratman's reading of Gilbert's 'plural subject' as meaning a plurality of jointly committed 3 5–6. 4 At 172 n. 20 Bratman approvingly quotes Christopher Kutz's appeal to seeing the other as "a partner in a joint enterprise". The reference is to Kutz C. (2000) Complicity New York: CUP, p. 78. 5 10. 6 Gilbert M. (2006) "Rationality in Collective Action" Philosophy of the Social Sciences 36: 8. 7 Gilbert M. (2006) A Theory of Political Obligation Oxford: Clarendon, p. 133. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM Shared Agency on Gilbert and Deep Continuity 51 ww subjects, rather than any further subject.)8 Does this weaken the analogy between individual and shared practical commitments? If it does, Bratman at least can explain why. For on his view, while an individual practical commitment (intention or plan) is embedded in a complex mental web that marks the boundaries of its subject, a shared practical commitment is not generally so embedded, so there is no evidence that it is proper to any plural or composite psychological subject.9 Fourth and finally, that the (generally observed) norms of BSI and GJC defeasibly and non-morally require of the parties that they find a way to work with (not just around) each other to realize their common goal, and where this is not possible, to modify or abandon it. In particular, they require, within limits, persistence through difficulty (e.g. flagging motivation in oneself or others), flexibility regarding one's contribution or role, and a disposition to help the other parties. Granted, Bratman thinks of these norms as 'demands' or 'requirements' whereas Gilbert thinks of them as 'obligations'. But she is not firmly tied to the word.10 Granted too, they give divergent explanations of these norms. For Bratman, the norms of stability, agglomeration, consistency and means-end coherence applying to individual intentions, and the relations between such intentions within a BSI, render a BSI subject to analogous emergent social norms. For Gilbert, it is simply that the parties to a GJC, qua its joint creator, owe themselves and hence each other its fulfilment (or failing that, its recision).11 For her it follows that each has a special standing to demand norm-compliance from the others, to rebuke them for noncompliance, and a special vulnerability to betrayal by non-compliance. There are no such special standings in Bratman's theory (although he allows that the parties to a BSI may be vulnerable to the frustratation of expectations it induces).12 Despite these theoretical differences, the impact of a GJC obligation is more or less the same as that of a BSI demand. It will be felt as a defeasible non-moral practical requirement to, as I have said, find a way of working with others. In 8 Gilbert has appeared to suggest that a plural subject is a complex individual composed of a plurality of jointly committed subjects. Hence her (1989) On Social Facts London: Routledge, p. 235: "Plural subjects are unified, complex entities" and (2006) "Rationality in Collective Action" Phil osophy of the Social Sciences. 36:8, p. 12: "[When] we constitute the plural subject of doing A... we constitute a supra-individual unit". But at 128–129 Bratman cites personal correspondence and a recent quotation that suggest the withdrawal of this suggestion. Gilbert's most recent statement on the issue is in the introduction to her (2013) Joint Commitment 9–10. 9 126–131. 10 Gilbert M. (2006) A Theory of Political Obligation Oxford: Clarendon writes in this context: "...one does not want to argue about how a word is or should be used. What we are talking about here are inputs to practical reasoning of importantly different kinds" (her emphasis). 11 Ibid. ch.7. 12 Bratman M. E. (1999) "Shared Intention and Mutual Obligation" in his Faces of Intention New York: CUP. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM 52 Thomas H. Smith particular, while it may appear that the GJC norms are more stringent, the real difference regards their escapability, and this is not, at bottom, a normative difference, but rather a difference in the persistence conditions of BSIs and GJCs. For while a BSI may have a default inertia, any party can annihilate it at will, simply by ceasing to hold their component intention. By contrast, agents can only annihilate a GJC by agreement (or else by fulfilling it). Hence, as the Gilbertian state is harder to wipe out, so its demands are too. Still, this is not at bottom a distinction between norms applying to BSIs and GJCs, but between their persistence conditions.13 In the light of this discussion of the similarities, I want now to assess Bratman's main charge against Gilbert. It is that she fails to see the "deep continuity" between individual and shared agency.14 By that he means, not that shared agency isn't a step up for agents, ontoand phylo-genetically, but that it shouldn't be a step up for theorists. In particular, we theorists need not introduce fundamentally new conceptual, metaphysical and normative practical elements to understand it.15 By this I take it he means that we need not posit new practical concepts, kinds or norms. Gilbert, in his view, commits the triple sin of positing new elements of all three varieties.16 My discussion of the "new norm" charge will be brief. Begin by distinguishing two senses of 'norm' (or, more clearly, 'requirement' or 'demand') viz. the thing that is required and the thing that requires it. In the former sense, if Gilbert introduces a new norm, then Bratman is vulnerable to a tu quoque. For, as argued above, a BSI requires essentially the same things of its agents as a GJC. In the latter sense of 'norm', we may grant that Gilbert introduces norms that are discontinuous with those of individual agency as theorized by Bratman. But they are not discontinuous with those of individual agency as theorized by Gilbert. For her, any creator(s) of a practical commitment, be they singular or plural, owes themselves its fulfilment (or failing that its recision) and hence has a special standing to demand norm-compliance of themselves, to rebuke themselves for non-compliance, and has a special vulnerability to betrayal by non-compliance.17 There is then the deepest of continuities here. The "new concept" and "new kind" charges also threaten a tu quoque. For Bratman introduces a new practical concept and a new practical kind: shared 13 One might suppose that the explanation of why the abandonment of any party's personal intention in favour of a joint activity annihilates a BSI but not a GJC is that a BSI is constituted by such intentions (and their interrelations) whereas a GJC is constituted by obligations (and their interrelations). Hence Gilbert's claim, much cited by Bratman, that obligations "inhere" in any GJC. But as I shall argue, a GJC is not constituted by anything, or at least by any concurrent presence. My thanks to Arto Laitenen for pressing me on this point. 14 passim. 15 passim. 16 156. 17 Gilbert M. op. cit. ch. 7. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM Shared Agency on Gilbert and Deep Continuity 53 ww intention. I will focus here on the putative kind, not the concept, but I expect that most of what I say carries over. In particular, I expect that my talk of kind exemplification is roughly translatable into talk of concept satisfaction. Now I am the first to grant that one could postulate shared intention without introducing a new kind. For intention is not a new kind: to postulate that it is jointly as well as singly exemplified by agents would then be to postulate shared intention without introducing any new kind. What would be new would be, not the kind, but one's view as to the manner of its exemplification.18 But a moment's reflection on what it would be to postulate that intention is jointly exemplified reveals that this is not Bratman's postulation. For 'intention' is a folk-theoretic term, implicitly defined by its role in folk psychological theory. Now imagine an axiomatization of that theory. The axioms are likely to include generalizations (platitudes perhaps)19 of the following forms, – If an intention that p is had by s, then _is had by s – If _is had by s, then an intention that p is had by s where such gaps are filled by terms for psychological states (e.g. a belief that p is possible). The details do not matter. The point is just that 'intention' is defined via these sorts of generalizations concerning relations between psychological states (perhaps relations to stimuli and behaviour also). Now, this is a definition of intention as singly had by individuals, for 'shared intention' is a theorist's term with no echo in folk platitudes or theory. Hence these axioms carry an implicit restriction on the value of s, viz. that it is singular, not plural. To postulate that intention is jointly exemplified would, then, be to lift that restriction. For that reason, this postulate would imply that a state such as belief is sometimes had by a plurality; indeed (as belief would also be defined by similar axioms, likewise desire etc.) it would imply that there is as complex a web of states at the jointly held level as there is as at the singly held level. But this is precisely what Bratman denies. So Bratman does not hold that an attribution of a shared intention entails 18 But wouldn't one have introduced the kind shared-ness (or joint-ness) as an element of the composite kind shared intention? And isn't that element new, at least to Bratman's individual planning theory? Perhaps, but is not a new practical kind. If it is a kind at all, it is a formal kind: a kind of kind exemplification, like uniqueness. For just as a kind can be exemplified uniquely by a bearer, so it can be exemplified jointly by several bearers – such that they share in an exemplification of it. Besides, we need to talk of shared-ness and joint-ness to specify our explanandum, shared or joint action, so it can scarcely be excluded from its explanans. 19 See Lewis D. K. (1972) "Psychophysical and Theoretical Identifications" Australasian Journal of Philosophy 50: 249–258. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM 54 Thomas H. Smith that an intention in the ordinary folk-psychological sense is had by a plurality. But then he is introducing a new kind, shared intention. Bratman may reply that, in his mouth, 'intention' is defined, not by folk theory, but by his planning theory of individual agency, and that it is intention so defined that he postulates to be jointly as well as singly exemplified. Were it so, his theory of individual agency would introduce a new kind, but his theory of shared agency would not introduce any additional kind. But I doubt that this is his view. His pioneering monograph on (individual) intention beings with the undertaking – quoted in Shared Agency – that it will "take seriously future-directed intentions" – the context being a then dominant philosophical tradition that did not.20 That sounds a lot like an undertaking to make a study of an existing kind. No doubt Bratman sought, in that book, to make explicit, precisify and supplement the folk theory of intention. But it remains a study of intention, and not another thing. By contrast, Shared Agency is not a study of shared intention, because it is not a study of anything that partakes of a holistic subject-grounded web of attitudes. Granted, the postulated phenomenon is intention-like: it settles practical issues, coordinates trans-temporal action and planning, etc. for agents taken jointly, much as intention does for agents taken singly. It may even be as intention-like as is nomically possible, given the lack of a minded subject. But it is not intention. One option for Bratman, at this point, would be to maintain that he means to eliminate shared intention. His postulate is the condition that he describes as sufficient for shared intention: roughly, circumstances in which it is common knowledge among parties that each intends that they jointly do something by way of these intentions (which depend for their persistence on each other) and by way of mutual responsiveness of sub-intention and action.21 This introduces no new kinds at all. His view may then be that it is useful to call such circumstances sufficient for "shared intention", as this serves a heuristic purpose (it was a handy label for the target of our search for an explanans of shared action) and a presentational purpose (it draws the reader's attention to the intention-like roles played by the phenomenon). But it serves no explanatory purpose: it explains nothing that is not already explained by the postulate itself. Hence shared intention is eliminable. This would respect the continuity constraint, but at a cost: shared intention as such becomes an idle wheel in the theory. If this is how Bratman respects his own continuity constraint, I'd like to hear him say so. More likely, I suspect, is that Bratman will concede that shared intention is a new kind, but maintain that its introduction nevertheless respects the continuity 20 Bratman M. E. (1987) Intention, Plans, and Practical Reason. Cambridge, MA: HUP. Reprinted by CSLI Publications 1999. Page v of reprint. 21 passim. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM Shared Agency on Gilbert and Deep Continuity 55 ww constraint, as it is not "fundamentally new" and contains no new "elements", because of the sufficient condition given. This manoeuvre raises the question of whether the provision of a merely sufficient condition that is thus reductive shows that shared intention contains no new elements. Strictly speaking, it shows only that it is not necessary that it contain them, not that it is necessary, or even actual, that it not contain them. But Bratman's Ockhamite idea is that if we can – as it were, from our armchair laboratories – construct shared intention using familiar, existing resources, we can presume that even if nature doesn't or doesn't always find that way, it won't find a less ontologically economical way.22 The more serious dialectical problem faced by this manoeuvre is that Gilbert also offers a sufficient condition for her postulate, GJC, which contains no new elements. It is simply that the parties agree to do something.23 (Bratman makes no mention of this: he notes that for Gilbert, agreement is sufficient for shared intention, also that open expressions of readiness for joint commitment are, for Gilbert, necessary and sufficient for GJC, but not that agreement is sufficient for GJC). Granted, agreement may be new to Bratman's theory of individual agency. Granted, there may be good questions as to how to understand it. But it is scarcely a new postulate. The point here is not that agreement is a typical or paradigmatic sufficient condition for GJC, only that, like Bratman's sufficient condition for BSI, it is an ontologically conservative one. So to the extent that Bratman's condition justifies a "no fundamentally new kinds" claim, Gilbert's does too. Granted, there is a difference between the sufficient conditions offered by these writers. In fact it is, I suspect, one that, at bottom, motivates Bratman's charge of discontinuity. While Bratman offers a constitutively sufficient condition, Gilbert offers a causally sufficient one. That is, while he purports to tell us what BSI consists in or is realized by, she purports to tell us what triggers GJC. This, I think, reflects an interesting and largely unacknowledged difference in these writers' theoretical frameworks. For while BSI is not a psychological state or attitude, Bratman conceives of it as a persisting presence with a persisting power to guide action and planning: in this respect he has a quasi-psychological conception of it. By contrast, GJC appears to be an upshot state (like that of having promised) which consists in a prior act (of making a joint commitment, by openly expressing readinesses for joint commitment etc.) and a persisting absence (of both recision and fulfilment of this commitment). That's not to deny that a GJC 22 30–37; 156. 23 Gilbert M. op. cit. p. 217: "Making an agreement is a way of producing a joint commitment" and p. 289: "Any agreement... brings a joint commitment into being [but] joint commitments... can be formed in contexts other than an agreement...." Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM 56 Thomas H. Smith has causal consequences, it is just that, like a state of having promised, it effects them indirectly, as mediated by beliefs and memory regarding it. Given these divergent theoretical frameworks, it is no objection to Gilbert that she does not give a constitutively sufficient condition for GJC. She is not working with an implicit ontology of roles and realizers, but one of undertakings and grounds. (No one has ever objected to the absence of a condition constitutively sufficient for having promised.) To be entitled to an Ockhamite claim akin to Bratman's she needs a condition sufficient to ground an act of joint commitment, and to cause a state of joint commitment, and which introduces no new kinds. And this she gives: agreement. It is easy to overlook the point, if one dwells as Bratman does on Gilbert's assertion that "obligations with corresponding entitlements inhere in any joint commitment".24 That may suggest that GJCS are somehow "made of" (perhaps "new") norms or demands. I do not think this is Gilbert's view. GJCs are upshot states that owe their existence to a prior act, and a persisting absence: they aren't "made of" anything. Demands "inhere" in them by being essential to them. Perhaps they inhere in a second way, one which marks a difference with BSI. Perhaps – and this is speculative: I can find no "smoking gun" passage in Gilbert – demands are inherent in that they are chosen as such (at least conditionally on others choosing likewise) at the point of joint commitment. They need not be chosen as a final end, being more commonly chosen as a means to the coordination of joint activity. Furthermore, the choice can be a reluctant one, as when one has no better option.25 Still, they are never an unintended side effect of acting with others. By contrast, BSI demands need be no more than a foreseen or foreseeable consequence of one's choices: they are not chosen as such.26 However that may be, BSI and GJC are on a par with respect to "deep continuity". Both are new kinds (unless Bratman pursues the eliminativist option that I have described). Yet both can be accounted for by appeal only to existing kinds, as we can describe a sufficient condition that appeals only to existing kinds, and make an Ockhamite presumption that nature finds no more complex way. So it is not fair for Bratman to contrast BSI and GJC by calling the latter "irreducible", "primitive" and "unanalyzable".27 And as the two postulates are on a par with 24 Gilbert M. (2000) "What Is It for Us to Intend" Sociality and Responsibility Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, p. 25. 25 My thanks to Frank Hindriks for forcing me to clarify this. 26 I am influenced here by a similar (although more complex) distinction among grades of choice-dependence of obligation, in Owens D. (2012) Shaping the Normative Landscape Oxford: OUP, p. 3–6. In his view, promises are another example of demands or obligations that are chosen as such. 27 37, 119, passim. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM Shared Agency on Gilbert and Deep Continuity 57 ww respect to ontic parsimony, then the advantage in ideological parsimony that Gilbert's sufficient condition has over Bratman's is far from negligible. I conclude by drawing attention to one theoretical advantage of GJC over BSI. It is a drearily familiar fact that, even in "modest sociality" where institutional or asymmetric authority relations are absent, one can j in partnership with others, freely28 and rationally complying with, but not embracing a shared commitment to j. In particular, one may strongly disapprove of the idea of our j-ing, want, hope and expect that we will fail to j (perhaps because one is confident that others will not in the end do their parts) and retain a private contingency plan (which perhaps one never has the opportunity to put into practice) to thwart the action if necessary.29 Now, Bratman is careful to allow for intention that fails to conform to one's evaluative rankings due to akrasia, lack of confidence in one's rankings, or a need to coordinate with others.30 I doubt, however, that he can allow for intention, still less shared intention, that we j, in the circumstances described. But the quasi-contractual notion of GJC easily makes room for this sort of phenomenon. We may have agreed that we j (which I might have had all sorts of incentives for doing) even though I strongly disapprove of the idea, want, hope and expect that the action will not come off, and have a contingency plan of the sort described. (Interestingly, and despite the tight connection between decision and intention, the same looks to be true of having jointly decided that we j.) Simply put, one can sign up or volunteer for a plan of joint action, without ever embracing it. Let me end by saying that I adore Bratman's book, hugely admire his contribution to the theory of agency (individual and shared) and am delighted by this opportunity to discuss his work. 28 I offer no definition of 'freely' but I intend it to rule out coercion, duress, and psychological compulsion. 29 I here recapitulate a point laboured in my impenetrable (2011) "Playing One's Part" Review of Philosophy and Psychology 2, p. 213–244. Similar remarks can be found in Kutz C. (2000) "Acting together" Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 61, p. 1–31. I borrow the distinction between complying with and embracing a plan from Chiara Lepora and Robert E. Goodin (2013) On Complicity and Compromise Oxford: OUP, p. 34. 30 41, 138, 141–143. Unauthenticated Download Date | 1/23/15 6:03 PM