Archive for January, 2010

KCL

Friday, January 29th, 2010

The word has got around quickly of tough times ahead for philosophy at KCL. Quoting the letter of vigorous protest from the UCL philosophy department, which you can read in full in the comments here,  ”Prof Shalom Lappin and Dr Wilfried Meyer-Viol are to face compulsory redundancy as of autumn 2010, and … Prof Charles Travis is to be forced into retirement contrary to the contract on which he was hired in 2005.” (See also Shalom Lappin’s statement here.)

Rumour also has it that the other members of the department have been told to reapply for their jobs, under threat of redundancy (whatever that exactly means).

These are pretty grim developments.

Not too surprising, though. In a long series of steps over the time during which I have been an academic, the accommodations between universities and their staff, and the myths we live by, have changed almost out of recognition. Once upon a time, it would have been more or less unthinkable for a university adminstration to act as precipitately as KCL seem to have done. These days, it happens more and more.

True, we used to be much less well paid. You almost never got promoted before trundling through all eighteen steps on the lecturer scale (there was indeed an “age/wage” scale). Very few got personal chairs. Research leave was a rarity in many universities. But, on the other hand, you were left alone to get on with your work as best you could. And in my experience, relatively few abused the great privilege (to be sure, people tended to publish much less, and care about their students more, but that looks a rather good thing, as we drown in the sea of not-good-not-bad articles and books). Tenure meant tenure (more or less). Short of “gross moral turpitude” it was exceedingly difficult to get sacked: and even when departments closed — say  by taking advantage of a spate of retirements —  the expectation was that remaining established staff would be redeployed somehow (maybe not ideally, but at least not thrown onto the scrap heap).

Since those more comfortable days a quarter of a century ago, we’ve taken the bribe of significantly better pay (for a start because of vastly better promotion prospects), at the cost of a different kind of university with different conceptions of what is proper and improper. And of course, the ambitious and successful tended not to resist the changes. They tended to like the bargain, took the money and thought that the downside — the insecurity, the vulnerability to managerial agendas — wouldn’t affect them.

But as we see in the developments in KCL, the world doesn’t actually work like that. Once the devil’s bargain has been made, the good can get shafted just as much as anyone.

You can follow developments on the Leiter blog, no doubt, and on Facebook. Also, do read Mary Beard’s piece, and the first comment below.

There’s Something about Gödel, Ch. 12

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

I’ve been distracted by various things (including preparing talks/lectures for my upcoming NZ trip): but at last it’s time to get back to thinking about Francesco Berto’s book.

The last chapter is called “Gödel versus Wittgenstein and the Paraconsistent Interpretation”. Which gives you an idea of how much Berto is taking on in this chapter. There’s the question of the interpretation of Wittgenstein’s prima facie point-missing remarks about the incompleteness theorem. Then what are we to make of Routley and Priest’s take on the message of the first theorem? And, ambitiously, there’s the claim that the “paraconsistent interpretation” throws light on, or can be seen as bring out strands in, Wittgenstein’s take on Gödel. Which is a lot to try to deal with in a bit over twenty pages.

And in fact I think I’ll pass over the discussion of Wittgenstein here. Berto himself acknowledges that his reading at best reflects some “intuitions at the core of Wittgenstein’s philosophy of mathematics”, and that it leads him to advocate “a strong revisionism with respect to classical logic and classical mathematics” — and such revisionism doesn’t sound too Wittgensteinian.

One quick remark though, which connects up with another line of discussion in this blog. Berto quotes some remarks of Wittgenstein’s on Hilbert, and endorses Wittgenstein’s supposed critique of Hilbert’s “metamathematics”. Berto summarizes Wittgenstein as emphasizing that “Hilbert’s metamathematics is, in fact, nothing but mathematics”. But that’s no critique of Hilbert — for it just reiterates what was surely Hilbert’s view too. The Hilbertian project is use finitarily “safe” mathematics to prove consistency results about theories considered as finite objects, and thereby remove the temptation to look for foundations for those theories outside mathematics (in logic, in intuition, or whatever): see here and here. Which rather suggests that Wittgenstein was as insensitive — shall we say? — in his readings (if any?) of Hilbert as he seems to have been in his readings of Gödel. And it suggests too that Berto, while leaning over backwards to try to find why he thinks is a charitable reading of Wittgenstein, is not extending the same courtesy to Hilbert.

But be that as it may: I’ll now set aside what else Berto says about Gödel,  and concentrate on the remarks about his “paraconsistent interpretation”. To be continued

Planet de Botton

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

I’m all for popularizing philosophy in the right kind of way, and admire — not to say envy — the likes of A.C. Grayling and my colleague Simon Blackburn for their prose styles, their immense energy, good sense, ability to bring ideas to life, ability to engage with wider concerns. But I could certainly do without Alain de Botton pretentiously sounding off from whatever remote planet he inhabits. Here’s an excerpt from an interview in a Cambridge student mag.

Q: So, it’s the most obvious question to ask really: what exactly is philosophy?

A: 99% of people who call themselves philosophers are employed by universities, in the UK. And they’re really employed to teach the history of philosophy or the theory of philosophy but they’re not philosophers as such, they’re commentators on philosophy that other people have done, on the whole. …

What utter ignorant bollocks. When my colleagues wrestle as it might be with the philosophical foundations of set theory, or how we manage to think about the non-existent, or the foundations of political liberalism, or on the nature of moral judgement (to pick a few local enthusiasms), they are doing philosophy, trying to get it right, trying to push things on. Of course they engage with what others have said, but not as commentators-from-the-sidelines but as fellow participants in the ongoing conversation of philosophy. They are most certainly philosophers as such.

At a time when humanities disciplines are depressingly undervalued and misunderstood, and indeed under some threat, it does my blood pressure no good to have the likes of the crashingly ignorant de Botton trying to piss on us as well.

Gödel Without Tears — 10

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

There are slightly revised versions of the episodes on the First Incompleteness Theorem and the Diagonalization Lemma now online.

And there is a cheeringly short episode on The Second Theorem, newly added.

(As before, you can download the latest versions of earlier episodes here, as well as a composite PDF of all the episodes to date.)

Routledge go mad

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

I have on my desk my copy of Hartley Rogers’s wonderful Theory of Recursive Functions and Effective Computability. I’ve been checking my memory that he says that, for effective computability, the steps in a particular algorithm must be idiot-proof at least in the weak sense of being executable by a computing agent with a “fixed finite bound” on his/her/its capacity. And yes, he does say that. Which is good, because that’s what I said he said in a talk last week!

Inside the front cover, there’s still the June 1970 pencilled stock date of Heffers (the wonderful warren of a bookshop that used to be in Petty Cury), and the price, 149 shillings. I guess it is, relatively speaking, the most expensive book I’ve ever bought. Going by the retail price index, that’s about £87: relative to academic pay, rather more. But it is a unique classic (and already established as such when I bought it a few years after publication); it is almost 500 pages; and the costs of production must have been enormous.

Zip forward to the present day. My young colleague Ben Colburn has just published an elegantly written and exceedingly interesting slim volume Autonomy and Liberalism. In pages, it is about a third of the length of Hartley Rogers, in words very much less than that: and the production costs were minimal given Ben had to send them an electronic file to their detailed specifications. Routledge are charging a quite absurd and shaming £70 (yes seventy pounds).

Which is, as the youff say, simply taking the piss.

On a winter’s afternoon, the charm of a bookshop

Monday, January 18th, 2010


Not my photo, I should add: but I couldn’t resist posting it here.

Gödel Without Tears — 9

Monday, January 18th, 2010

There’s a slightly extended version of the treatment of the First Incompleteness Theorem now online, with a short section added about the historically first First Theorem.

And newly added is an episode on The Diagonalization Lemma, also covering Rosser’s and Tarski’s Theorems.

(You can download the latest versions of earlier episodes here, as well as a composite PDF of all the episodes to date.)

Standing in King’s Parade, tearing up tenners

Monday, January 11th, 2010

I had to go along  to a meeting today, ostensibly about the future of funding for graduate students. It lasted an hour, though it was fortunately held just fifteen minutes away. Still, that’s an hour-and-a-half out of my life. There were about thirty people there. So that’s at least forty-five hours lost by various academics and administrators. The meeting therefore in effect sopped up a thousand pounds‘ worth of time, at a conservative estimate of average salaries.

The content of the meeting (the take-home message, as they say ) could have been put in a five line e-mail.

If members of the university admin staff — of course, the one conspicuously growing body in the university — stood in King’s Parade tearing up tenners*, academics (and everyone else) would rightly be incensed. So why the hell do we put up with this kind of thing?

*For my mystified non-UK readers, a tenner is a ten pound note!

What’s it all about then?

Sunday, January 10th, 2010

I’ve one more chapter of Berto’s Gödel book to comment on here, which I’ll do very shortly, and I mean to get back to the rest of Franks’s The Autonomy of Mathematical Knowledge (I got rather stuck on Franks’s tussle with Herbrand: I think I’ll just have to skip over that — but watch this space).

Meanwhile I’ve started dipping into Conceptions of Philosophy, a newly published collection of lectures given to the Royal Institute of Philosophy on the nature of philosophy.

Most of the contributors are my generation or older. Is that because reflecting on what we’ve been idling our time away with, hopefully finding something positive to be said for it, is a game for us old lags? Maybe. But I have to report that, so far, I don’t recognize very many of my own concerns in these contributors’ descriptions of what they think philosophers are/should be up to. Perhaps that’s because — though I’ve comfortably enough spent my time tucked away in philosophy departments — I’m not really philosophically minded. Well, I’m not if philosophy involves e.g. arm-waving blether about the True and the Good (David Cooper) or ignorant balderdash about the nature of mathematics (Peter Hacker).

Actually, it seems here that age  tends to bring not wisdom but bollocks.