Some philosophical claims prove easier to refute than others.  Take, for instance, Thales’ claim that all is water.  Apparently Thales insisted for years that this was true until one of his students asked him about the contents of his wine glass.  The evidence is fragmentary, but it seems likely that Thales responded, “wine, of course,” and then, realizing the insurmountable challenge that this response raised to his cosmology, attempted to drown himself in a well.  More recently, and to Carnap’s glee, Heidegger claimed that “the nothing nihilates.”  Well, I think most people would now agree that this is wrong.  First, things other than nothing, most commonly something, will sometimes nihilate.  Second and more damaging to Heidegger’s daring thesis is the question what it means.  This question often takes the following forms:

1) Huh?

2) What the fuck are you talking about?

3) What the fuck are you talking about, Martin? 

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            In this brief talk I would like to consider a thesis that to this day holds a firm grip on philosophers of mind.  Unlike Thales and Heidegger’s claims, this one is not so easy to refute.  The thesis in my sights is Donald Davidson’s anomalous monism.  I hope to convince you that anomalous monism is no better off than Thales’ brazenly stupid belief that everything’s water and Heidegger’s hopelessly naïve faith in the nihilatory powers of nothing. 

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            So, first, what is anomolous monism?  One way to answer this question is to consider what it isn’t.  This strategy is often helpful. Think for a minute how one might try to answer the question, What is a tachyon?  Well, think about what a tachyon isn’t.  It’s surely not a muon.  We know that because if it were a muon then we’d have a hard time explaining why we need two words, ‘tachyon’ and ‘muon’, to talk about the same thing.  Inference to the best explanation justifies the conclusion, then, that muons are not tachyons.  We’re getting closer – what else is a tachyon not?  It’s surely not a box of Rice Krispies.  If it were, it would have three funny looking creatures called ‘Snap,’ ‘Crackle,’ and ‘Pop’ on its outside, and when I’ve asked physicists about this possibility they’ve assured me that it does not.  So, you get the picture.  We can learn a lot about something by asking what it’s not. 

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            So, what isn’t anomalous monism?  Pretty clearly, it’s anomalous pluralism, or, perhaps just regular old monism, or maybe, possibly, it’s just regular old pluralism.  We’re almost there.  Following from what I’ve said – from the strikingly deep conceptual analysis from which our first year graduate students might have learned something about how to do philosophy if they’ve been paying attention – is this: Anomalous monism is the thesis that there are no strict laws connecting mental and physical events.  Now to the work of demonstrating that this is wrong. 

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            How could it be true that there are no strict laws connecting mental and physical events?  Consider the mental event of hearing rap music and the physical event of gnashing teeth and wincing.  Is it really possible that these two events are not related by a strict law?  Surely the relationship between these two events is counterfactual supporting and universal.  I think we have here a counterexample to anomalous monism.  But how might Davidson reply?     

   

            Important to note in this regard is that Davidson died not too long ago.  This makes my task fairly easy.  I can say pretty much anything I want to about anomalous monism and he’d be hard-pressed to respond.  But perhaps that is unfair.  Perhaps the charitable thing to do is imagine what Davidson would say in response if he were still alive.  Indeed, given Davidson’s well-known pronouncements about charity, I feel doubly obliged to respond to what Davidson would say in his own defense if his serious decline in health would not have prevented him from doing so.   

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            Reminder: the charge is that the hearing of rap music is connected by strict law to the gnashing of teeth and wincing and thus presents a counter example to the claim that mental and physical events are not related by strict laws.  How might Davidson, if he were alive, respond? 

 

            Just a point on strategy – one from which the first year students are sure to benefit.  When considering how a philosopher might respond to an objection, it is almost always a good idea to provide them with a response that’s stupid or silly or otherwise easy to dismiss.  Let me show you what I mean.  Davidson might say this in response: “My first name is Donald.” 

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            Clearly, we are entitled at this point to ask him why this is relevant.  What’s the argument?  He’d undoubtedly say something further like this:

1) My name is Donald

2) Anyone named Donald is right when he asserts that mental and physical events are not connected by strict laws

Therefore, mental and physical events are not connected by strict laws.

Therefore, the counterexample does not work and anomalous monism is true. 

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            Obviously, if this is the best Davidson can do, we have no need to withdraw our criticism.  The argument is  not sound and it is a fairly easy matter to see why.  The error occurs in the first premise.  My name is not Donald.  Thus, even if we are willing to accept the conditional in premise (2), the desired conclusion does not follow.   

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            Now would be a good time to summarize things.  First, anomalous monism is false thanks to recent musical developments.  Second, I hope I have provided something like a primer on basic philosophical methodology.  Try to define terms by appeal to what they are not; always supply your opponent with the weakest possible response.  Relying on methods like these, we see that Davidson’s anomalous monism fares no better than Thales’ laughably reckless suggestion that everything is water and Heidegger’s barely more credible assertion that among the various things nothing does is nihilate.