This is a review of Drew V. McDermott, Mind and Mechanism, MIT Press, Cambridge, MA, 2001.

Much previous work in artificial intelligence has neglected representing time in all its complexity. In particular, it has neglected continuous change and the indeterminacy of the future. To rectify this, I have developed a first‐order temporal logic, in which it is possible to name and prove things about facts, events, plans, and world histories. In particular, the logic provides analyses of causality, continuous change in quantities, the persistence of facts (the frame problem), and the relationship between tasks and actions. It (...) may be possible to implement a temporal‐inference machine based on this logic, which keeps track of several “maps” of a time line, one per possible history. (shrink)

A new theory of problem solving is presented, which embeds problem solving in the theory of action; in this theory, a problem is just a difficult action. Making this work requires a sophisticated language for‐talking about plans and their execution. This language allows a broad range of types of action, and can also be used to express rules for choosing and scheduling plans. To ensure flexibility, the problem solver consists of an interpreter driven by a theorem prover which actually manipulates (...) formulas of the language. Many examples of the use of the system six given. including an extended treatment of the world of blocks. Limitations and extensions of the system are discussed at length. It is concluded that a rule‐based problem solver is necessary and feasible, but that much more work remains to be done on the underlying theory of planning and acting. (shrink)

Assuming our understanding of the brain continues to advance, we will at some point have a computational theory of how access consciousness works. Block's supposed additional kind of consciousness will not appear in this theory, and continued belief in it will be difficult to sustain. Appeals to to experience such-and-such will carry little weight when we cannot locate a subject for whom it might be like something.

O'Brien & Opie's theory fails to address the issue of consciousness and introspection. They take for granted that once something is experienced, it can be commented on. But introspection requires neural structures that, according to their theory, have nothing to do with experience as such. That makes the tight coupling between the two in humans a mystery.

Stevan Harnad correctly perceives a deep problem in computationalism, the hypothesis that cognition is computation, namely, that the symbols manipulated by a computational entity do not automatically mean anything. Perhaps, he proposes, transducers and neural nets will not have this problem. His analysis goes wrong from the start, because computationalism is not as rigid a set of theories as he thinks. Transducers and neural nets are just two kinds of computational system, among many, and any solution to the semantic problem (...) that works for them will work for most other computational systems. (shrink)

Drew McDermott, Int. J. Mach. Conscious., 06, 45 (2014). DOI: 10.1142/S1793843014400071.

This paper notes the re-ignited controversy surrounding the publication of a new edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, suggesting that the early work of Michel Foucault can explain why the mere diagnosis of or criteria for mental illness remains a heated flashpoint. In particular, it argues that Foucault articulates a common issue within the philosophical foundations of psychiatry and psychology that the paper terms the ‘subjectivity problem.’ It observes, using Foucault’s work, that these disciplines treat not (...) just simple objects but complex subjects that are capable of interacting with that labelling and who are shaped by it. Drawing on the related work of Ian Hacking on kind-making as world-making, the article fleshes out why the subjectivity problem remains persistent within psychiatry and psychology as forms of knowledge, preventing them from operating as many commentators might desire them to – as pure and objective sciences. Finally, the paper reflects on the relationship of psychiatry and psychology as forms of knowledge, the manner in which they constitute their objects, and how this might shape the biopolitical episteme in which we find ourselves today. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Homeric ΔΙΙΠΕΤΕΟΣΠΟΤΑΜΟΙΟand the Celestial NileR. Drew GriffithHomeric διιπετής, which occurs only in the verse–end formula διιπετέος (Il. 16.174, 17.263, 21.268, 326; Od. 4.477, 581, 7.284; cf. Hes. fr. 320 Merkelbach–West), is usually interpreted as "fallen from Zeus, i.e., from heaven,... fed or swollen by rain" (LSJ),1 for high–thundering, cloud–gatherer Zeus is the sky who rains and snows (Il. 12.25; Od. 9.111, 14.457, Alc. Z 14.1 Lobel–Page 5 338.1 (...) Voigt; Ar. Nub. 368, 373; Babrius 65.1; Marcus Aurelius 5.7), and rivers can be "swollen by rain and melted snow" (). Yet it only takes a moment for the desperate nature of this interpretation to become clear: it has at least four flaws.2First, there is διι–. We may explain the quantity of the second iota (long in διιπετής, short in Διί) either as metrical lengthening, or as a survival of the Mycenaean, with or without the emendation to διειπετής proposed by one Zenodorus (schol. E2Od. 4.477, var. l. Zenodotus, HQ) and supported by some moderns,3 but the form itself is unexpected. Even supporters of the usual interpretation admit that διι is a very odd way of saying "from Zeus," which should be expressed by a [End Page 353] genitive of source:4 indeed, when Euripides wants to characterize a statue as having "fallen from the sky," he uses διοπετής (IT 977; cf. fr. 971 Nauck2 ). They account for διι- in one of three ways: either as chosen on the analogy of διίφιλος where the dative is appropriate,5 or as a compendious expression meaning "by (the command of) Zeus,"6 as an Arcado– Cypriot use of the dative as an ablative.7 This last approach relies in turn on the hypothesis (itself controversial) of an Achaean stratum of the Homeric language, in which are alleged to persist forms specific to the Mycenaean dialect.8Second, the final element, πετής, is elsewhere in Homer derived from πέτομαι (Il. 12.201, etc.;Il. 8.42, etc.; cf. Hes. Theog. 267). Unlike διιπετής, these words are accented paroxytone (but note παλιμπετές Il. 16.395, Od. 5.27, which means "falling or flying backward"; Pind. Pyth. 3.105; and Aesch. Supp. 782), but this shows only that during the Alexandrian period, when the written accents were devised, scholars associated them with a different root from διιπετής. Leaving our word aside, for examples of -πετής derived from πίπτω we must look to Aeschylus, Pindar, and subsequent authors.9 (Words with πετής from πετάννυμι are attested in later Greek.)10Third, the earliest post–Homeric uses of διιπετής (Eur. Bacch. 1267, Rhes. 43, Hypsipyle fr. 1. sp. IV, 1.31 Bond; Hippoc. Morb. Mul. 1.24) demand the translation "translucent" vel sim. (Etym. Magn. s.v.), and Zenodotus (apud schol. Il. 17.263) glosses the word in its Homeric use as διαυγής,11 yet the semantic development from "fallen from Zeus, etc." (on the usual interpretation) to "translucent" can only be seen as "encore inexpliqué."12 [End Page 354]Fourth, one of the three named rivers to which Homer applies διιπετής is the Nile (Od. 4.477, 581; the others are Spercheius, Il. 16.174, and Scamander, Il. 21.268, 326), yet if ever there were a river that is not "fed or swollen by rain" it is the Nile: rainfall is scarce in Egypt (Hdt. 3.10.3), and, knowing this, Diogenes hypothesized that the Nile was fed by subterranean springs (64 A18 Diels–Kranz; cf. Sen. Q.Nat. 4.2.28–30, 6.8.3–5; schol. Ap. Rhod. 4.269 = p. 277 Wendel). The application of the epithet to the Nile would have, therefore, to be classed among Homer's (admittedly numerous) formulary illogicalities.13Not all scholars accept the usual view. In 1958 M. Treu pointed to a then newly discovered papyrus fragment of Alcman containing the adjective διαιπετής in the phrase (III 66–67 PMG, PMGF = fr. 26.66–67 Calame), which was taken to describe a star "falling through..., less prob.... flying through" heaven (LSJ Suppl. s.v.),14 to hypothesize that the Homeric instances of διιπετής are all miscorrections of an original διαιπετής, "flying through." This theory has won few adherents,15 and R. Renehan (1972b) has with more... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Homeric ΔΙΙΠΕΤΕΟΣΠΟΤΑΜΟΙΟand the Celestial NileR. Drew GriffithHomeric διιπετής, which occurs only in the verse–end formula διιπετέος (Il. 16.174, 17.263, 21.268, 326; Od. 4.477, 581, 7.284; cf. Hes. fr. 320 Merkelbach–West), is usually interpreted as "fallen from Zeus, i.e., from heaven,... fed or swollen by rain" (LSJ),1 for high–thundering, cloud–gatherer Zeus is the sky who rains and snows (Il. 12.25; Od. 9.111, 14.457, Alc. Z 14.1 Lobel–Page 5 338.1 (...) Voigt; Ar. Nub. 368, 373; Babrius 65.1; Marcus Aurelius 5.7), and rivers can be "swollen by rain and melted snow" (). Yet it only takes a moment for the desperate nature of this interpretation to become clear: it has at least four flaws.2First, there is διι–. We may explain the quantity of the second iota (long in διιπετής, short in Διί) either as metrical lengthening, or as a survival of the Mycenaean, with or without the emendation to διειπετής proposed by one Zenodorus (schol. E2Od. 4.477, var. l. Zenodotus, HQ) and supported by some moderns,3 but the form itself is unexpected. Even supporters of the usual interpretation admit that διι is a very odd way of saying "from Zeus," which should be expressed by a [End Page 353] genitive of source:4 indeed, when Euripides wants to characterize a statue as having "fallen from the sky," he uses διοπετής (IT 977; cf. fr. 971 Nauck2 ). They account for διι- in one of three ways: either as chosen on the analogy of διίφιλος where the dative is appropriate,5 or as a compendious expression meaning "by (the command of) Zeus,"6 as an Arcado– Cypriot use of the dative as an ablative.7 This last approach relies in turn on the hypothesis (itself controversial) of an Achaean stratum of the Homeric language, in which are alleged to persist forms specific to the Mycenaean dialect.8Second, the final element, πετής, is elsewhere in Homer derived from πέτομαι (Il. 12.201, etc.;Il. 8.42, etc.; cf. Hes. Theog. 267). Unlike διιπετής, these words are accented paroxytone (but note παλιμπετές Il. 16.395, Od. 5.27, which means "falling or flying backward"; Pind. Pyth. 3.105; and Aesch. Supp. 782), but this shows only that during the Alexandrian period, when the written accents were devised, scholars associated them with a different root from διιπετής. Leaving our word aside, for examples of -πετής derived from πίπτω we must look to Aeschylus, Pindar, and subsequent authors.9 (Words with πετής from πετάννυμι are attested in later Greek.)10Third, the earliest post–Homeric uses of διιπετής (Eur. Bacch. 1267, Rhes. 43, Hypsipyle fr. 1. sp. IV, 1.31 Bond; Hippoc. Morb. Mul. 1.24) demand the translation "translucent" vel sim. (Etym. Magn. s.v.), and Zenodotus (apud schol. Il. 17.263) glosses the word in its Homeric use as διαυγής,11 yet the semantic development from "fallen from Zeus, etc." (on the usual interpretation) to "translucent" can only be seen as "encore inexpliqué."12 [End Page 354]Fourth, one of the three named rivers to which Homer applies διιπετής is the Nile (Od. 4.477, 581; the others are Spercheius, Il. 16.174, and Scamander, Il. 21.268, 326), yet if ever there were a river that is not "fed or swollen by rain" it is the Nile: rainfall is scarce in Egypt (Hdt. 3.10.3), and, knowing this, Diogenes hypothesized that the Nile was fed by subterranean springs (64 A18 Diels–Kranz; cf. Sen. Q.Nat. 4.2.28–30, 6.8.3–5; schol. Ap. Rhod. 4.269 = p. 277 Wendel). The application of the epithet to the Nile would have, therefore, to be classed among Homer's (admittedly numerous) formulary illogicalities.13Not all scholars accept the usual view. In 1958 M. Treu pointed to a then newly discovered papyrus fragment of Alcman containing the adjective διαιπετής in the phrase (III 66–67 PMG, PMGF = fr. 26.66–67 Calame), which was taken to describe a star "falling through..., less prob.... flying through" heaven (LSJ Suppl. s.v.),14 to hypothesize that the Homeric instances of διιπετής are all miscorrections of an original διαιπετής, "flying through." This theory has won few adherents,15 and R. Renehan (1972b) has with more... (shrink)

A review of Drew Dalton, The Ethics of Resistance: Tyranny of the Absolute, pp. 154.

Eusebius of Caesarea drew heavily on pagan philosophy in developing the first Christian political theology. His quotations from Plato’s most political work, the Laws, are so extensive that they are treated as a manuscript authority by modern editors. Yet Eusebius’s actual use of the Laws is oddly detached from Plato’s own political intentions in that work, adapting it to a model of philosophical kingship closer to the Republic and applied to the emperor Constantine. For Eusebius the Laws mainly shows (...) the agreement of Christian and pagan morality, while his political theory centers on the establishment and maintenance of a Christian empire under a Christian emperor who is a philosopher-king. His view represents one of the fundamental political options in ancient Christianity, one that influenced later Byzantine political theology, but was largely rejected in the west. (shrink)

By 1910 the Cambridge University physiology department had become the kernel of British physiology. Between 1909 and 1914 an astonishing number of young and talented scientists passed through the laboratory. The University College department was also a stimulating place of study under the dynamic leadership of Ernest Starling.I have argued that the reasons for this metropolitan axis within British physiology lie with the social structure of late-Victorian and Edwardian higher education. Cambridge, Oxford, and University College London were national institutions attracting (...) students from all over England and Wales. In contrast, the provincial colleges drew their clientele from relatively narrow geographic radii. Generally, also, these institutions were regarded as socially inferior to the longer-established universities.A brief survey of the biographies of some British physiologists demonstrates how physiology, as an occupation, became, over the later decades of the century, socially elite. The scientists who achieved full-time posts in the 1870s generally came from somewhat marginal backgrounds. Foster, like his mentors T. H. Huxley and William Sharpey, came from a non-conformist family. Edward Schäfer was also a dissenter and, like Foster, began his professional career as a general practitioner.Physiologists of the succeeding generation, however, came from wealthy families with established intellectual traditions. John Scott Haldane, nephew of John Burdon Sanderson, was the brother of the politician R. B. Haldane and uncle of the historian A. R. B. Haldane.71 Joseph Barcroft was one of the most affluent of all physiologists.72 His family's wealth derived from linen manufacturing. He attended the Ley's School Cambridge, where his schoolmates included Henry Dale, later Director of the National Institute for Medical Research; F. A. Bainbridge, who eventually became Professor of Physiology at St. Bartholomew's Hospital; and the Cambridge historian J. H. Clapham. A. V. Hill, Professor of Physiology at Manchester and, subsequently, London, married Margaret Keynes, sister of John Maynard Keynes and niece of Sir Walter Langdon Brown, Professor of Physic at Cambridge. Margaret Keynes's younger brother, the surgeon Sir Geoffrey Keynes, married a granddaughter of Charles Darwin; their son Richard Keynes also became a physiologist at Cambridge.These families were part of a new class emerging during the late Victorian period, descendants of the great reforming radicals of the 1830s, who had begun to achieve power through positions in the universities, the professions, and the civil service. Their social prestige rested upon their intellectual expertise. Physiology was an appealing research discipline to these groups because of its clear dissociation from industry and commerce. And because physiology's “practical” face was medicine, its acceptability was reinforced by professional ties.The nature of the Physiological Society confirms this image of physiology as an elite science. By the turn of the century the Society had taken on some of the characteristics of a dining club. The scientific meetings were generally followed by dinner: if the Society met at Oxford, they were entertained at Burdon Sanderson's college, Magdalen.73 Through a “black ball” system, unwanted candidates could be excluded. In 1912, when the question of admitting foreigners was discussed, E. H. Starling wrote to Edward Schäfer: “the Society has very much in it the nature of a club, and a certain amount of personal knowledge of the candidate is always desirable.”74.The developing institutional structure of physiology in late Victorian Britain indicates, therefore, that we must look beyond the achievements of individuals and departments to understand why physiology flourished. The discipline became part of a new social order in which the professional middle classes assumed increasing power. These groups valued intellectual skill, especially in the pure scienes, as forces both for self-advancement and for progress within society. (shrink)