I've heard of pass-the-parcel, but this is ridiculous

Baby or hot potato?

Janet and John want to have a baby, but can’t. They do have the money for in vitro fertilisation with donated sperm and an egg, and they hire the womb of Edith Honeydew, who gives birth to a baby, which is called Sam.

When Mr Spick, the consultant, phones Janet and John, he finds that they’ve split up and don’t want the baby. Nor does Ms Honeydew when Mr Spick phones her. And when the IVF company tracks down the donors of the original genetic material, one can’t be found and the other isn’t interested.

The problem is, whose baby is it?

The answer in my mind is Janet and John’s; not that this is a satisfactory answer. You could simply treat Sam the Baby as if he was something you’d bought at a shop, but while returning a book or DVD is one thing, returning a baby is quite another. He’d have to be offered up for adoption unless Mr Spick took the matter to court, which could well rule that Janet and John, the original purchasers, were responsible for the child. The biological parents were merely donors selected by the clinic and Ms Honeydew was a womb for hire. None of them should be responsible for Sam, or even expected to want him. Mr Spick and his company end up being Sam’s parent by default until Janet and John take responsibility for him.

From babies to organ donors. The organ harvest begins tomorrow.

Out with the new

And in with the newer.

Mrs Green is about to go on holiday when finding that she’s pregnant, she has the embryo removed and deep frozen so that she can have it re-implanted afterwards. But while she’s on holiday, she meets someone else and decides not only to divorce Mr Green, but also to have her new paramour’s baby instead. And she has the original embryo destroyed much to Mr Green’s disgust.

The removal of the embryo in the first place seems a little strange and somewhat indulgent, but it doesn’t appears to be reprehensible. The destruction of the original embryo without Mr Green’s consent seems unethical. On the other hand, what’s he going to do with the embryo? Find a surrogate of some sort? A very understanding girlfriend?

But if Mr and Mrs Green can’t agree on the fate of the embryo, whose cause wins the day? The party who wants to keep the embryo?

Tomorrow’s scenario is another from the Big Book of Unwanted Baby Stories.

The nine-month parasite

And the excuses.

The excuse which the nurse peddles for using Toni as a life support machine is pregnancy, which would require her to support another life just as she’s supporting the other patient. But Toni would seem to view pregnancy, whether it was planned or not, as a natural phenomenon against which this contrasts as something unnatural.

Anyway, at this point, they start questioning her mental state, recalling a blow to the head and how her relatives thought she’d be in favour of the doctors’ actions. they sedate her and leave her in a coma-like state for the remaining five weeks.

But when they revive Toni, she’s ashamed of her refusal to play her part and thanks the staff for all their help. She even gives the biotechnologist a big bunch of flowers. (In a moment of extreme irony, which I’m adding for my own amusement, the man reacts badly to the pollen and dies.)

Did the doctors do the right thing after all?

Their excuse for sedating Toni sounds a little specious, but perhaps we’re meant to understand that Toni really isn’t in her right mind and that under other circumstances, she’d be willing to help.

Actually, it’s when the nurse uses the analogy of pregnancy that we get to the core of the case. This is an analogy devised by those in favour of a woman’s right to choose. Those who are insist on a woman having a baby would surely not hold the same objection if the other life was not her own baby.

The discussion in the book also notes that doctors have got legal injunctions to treat patients who object to certain sorts of treatment on religious grounds, hence the part of the scenario about Toni not being in her right mind.

Even although Toni emerges as more altruistic than she when entered the scenario, the doctors have had to make their decision without knowing how she would eventually react.

I suppose that most people would probably feel some disapproval about the doctors’ decision; yet if I knew better than someone else about some matter, I’d feel justified in taking a decision on their behalf. Unlike some colleagues of mine, I don’t ask my pupils what they want to do in class because many of them don’t want the class in the first place and would be unable to make constructive suggestions. Similarly, I don’t shun the book in favour of topics of my own devising because what might interest me won’t necessarily interest the vegetables or even be pitched at a suitable level. Besides, my pupils are not my peers whose views I might value and schools are not known to be democracies.

Hmmm. Think about it. The headmaster is a jumped up tyrant; the teachers are the governors and satraps of his provinces; the pupils are his slaves, who may be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.

Anyway, more baby-based bother tomorrow.

Batteries not included

It’s like The Matrix.

Toni Chestnut gets knocked down by a car and eventually comes to in hospital where, she’s told, she’ll be for six weeks. But she soon realises that she’s actually all right. When she starts trying to disconnect herself from the machines, the doctors stop her because her kidneys are actually being used to help another patient. They weren’t able to ask her for her permission because she was unconscious when the decision needed to be made. Toni wants her body back, but the doctors explain that the man she’s helping is a biotechnologist who has developed strains of rice that help millions. And he has a girlfriend and three small children. Toni is unmoved and wants the machine to be disconnected from her.

Should she be disconnected from the machine even if the other patient dies?

On the one hand, the doctors needed someone to keep the other patient alive and Toni happened to be unable to give her consent; on the other, once she’s conscious shouldn’t the doctors acquiesce to her wishes? What right do they have (did they have) to use Toni like some battery whether she was conscious or not? Apart from appealing to her sense of altruism, what right do the doctors have to expect that she’ll continue to support the other patient now that she’s able to make a decision? If the other patient was related to or special to Toni, she might agree to continue, but I think she’s well within her rights to want to be disconnected.

Of course, the scenario is designed so that the audience is potentially inclined to regard Toni as selfish if she refuses.

Anyway, Part II tomorrow and the truth behind the analogy.

Perhaps they should ask for a second opinion

The confusing Father Black.

Mrs Mauve contracts a form of flu which will result in her baby being blind. Although she could have an abortion, she decides to have the child anyway.[1]

Mrs Brown also catches the same flu and is warned against getting pregnant in the following six months or risk her child also being born blind. But she ignores the doctor’s advice.

Father Black, who’s supposedly an expert on morality, says that both women have done the right thing. But is he right himself?[2]

Mrs Blue is in the same position as Mrs Mauve, but knows of a herbal remedy which will protect the foetus. Yet she’s not prepared to stump up the money (the grand sum of 50p) for it.

But Father Black accuses Mrs Blue of betraying her unborn child and condemning it to a life of disadvantage. She says she won’t play God with its life.[3]

Who’s right and why has Father Black changed his tune?

I don’t know. Personally, I think Mrs Mauve should abort the foetus and try again, but it’s her choice. Mrs Brown just seems to be irresponsibly horny. Mrs Blue is being cheap and stupid. I assume that for the purposes of the scenario, Mrs Mauve never hears about the herbal remedy. Father Black takes a different line with Mrs Blue because she has access to this remedy, but Mrs Brown can also go without sex, which Father Black should approve of – unless he’s the one bonking her. Whoops, vicar, there go my trousers!

Notes
1. “Why am I a whiny bitch, mother? Because if you’d aborted me, I would’ve been born sighted and, therefore, wouldn’t be perpetually dependent on you.”
2. Father Black is, obviously, opposed to abortion, which means that from his perspective, Mrs Mauve is doing the right thing; but Mrs Brown is being knowingly irresponsible (or horny), which can’t be a good thing if she’s treating a potential life with such cavalier disregard. Perhaps the implication is that Mrs Brown isn’t using contraception which, again from Father Black’s perspective, is a good thing.
3. But how is taking the remedy any different from taking the child to a doctor after it’s born?

Tomorrow, we’re asking Toni Chestnut to keep some annoyingly saintly guy alive at her expense. Well, in fact, we’re not asking and now she’s pissed off.

Two states at once

Green and red.

Can something be red and green at the same time? I assume that this means the thing can simultaneously red and green without these being discrete colours or some wavelength in the visible spectrum which stands halfway between them (somewhere between orange and yellow). As far as colours are concerned, such a thing isn’t possible, although I can imagine some state in which the colours shimmer a bit like an animated blend function in a graphics program.

According to the book, there are things which can be in two complementary states simultaneously such as negative numbers which, when multiplied together, produce a positive number, but which can have square roots. Unfortunately, I think Cohen has misunderstood i. Also, I don’t think this is necessarily an example of something being X and not X simultaneously. I’m not sure.

If anything, specific opinions may contradict our general outlook. Think of Dave “Lost my bike again” Cameron. He’s a Tory, but I believe he’s very pro NHS, which is contrary to Tory philosophy in general. Or both main political parties which are meant to be different, but aren’t.

Perhaps we have to follow Meinong here with notions of real but doesn’t exist.

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Is pleasure good or not?

Define “pleasure” and I’ll try to tell you.

μηδὲν ἄγαν, said the Greeks. In other words, pleasure is good, but not to excess.

Apparently, this seems to be a real/not real and existent/non-existent problem. G.E. Moore, a Cambridge philosopher, said that “is” should only be used of natural properties (e.g. The sky is blue), but never in sentences like “Pleasure is good”. As the book notes, Moore never really explained how “good” wasn’t a natural property.

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I Kant [sic!] do these.

I quote

Can there be analytic a posteriori propositions? Or synthetic a priori propositions?

Can I even understand the questions? Strangely enough, I think I sort of can. That is, I can until I see what the discussion in the book says and find that I haven’t understood them at all.

I’m assuming the terms “analytic” and “synthetic” are normally used with a priori and a posteriori respectively. And that’s about as much as I understand. This strikes me as being another paradox.

Well, the discussion in the book claims that “analytic” comes from Latin, whereas it comes from the Greek ἀναλύω “to unloose, set free; analyse” (cf. ἀνάλυσις “a loosing, releasing”); and that “synthetic” comes from the same language, whereas it comes from Greek συνθετικός “skilled in putting together; constructive” which is from the verb συντίθημι “to put together”. But etymological errors aside, it seems that I was right about such statements a.) being a bit incomprehensible to me and b.) being a paradox.

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Citizens, know your morals! Or perhaps not!

Again I quote

Are all moral claims synthetic? Or analytic? Or a priori? Or a posteriori? Or both? Or neither? Or both of both, or neither of either??

Er, yes. No. Yes and no. How the hell should I know?

Actually, I’d guess that we learn our morals as we learn our native language – without the slightest idea we’re learning them. Since the morality of a society is not innate in the children which are born into it, they can’t be a priori, but it might be possible to show that a sense of morality (well, ethics perhaps) is innate without being specific about what is moral.

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Turning the tables on reality.

Apparently I’m meant to ask whether the table exists. I know it’s there in the other room, but I can’t see it because the curtains to this room are always drawn (in lieu of a wall, I suppose). I suppose it’s fun to think that nothing exists if there’s no one around to perceive it, but that’s a bit like saying that Uranus didn’t exist until 1781, and Neptune until 1846 (or the 17th century; it doesn’t matter either way on this occasion). If there’s a planet beyond Neptune (excluding Pluto, which is a dwarf planet and thus doesn’t count), then it exists whether we can see it or detect it or not. Same goes for atomic and subatomic particles which we’re unable to perceive directly, but there they are.

I can’t say that I have much regard for such questions, which do rather seem to assume that existence revolves around the human race.

We’re off to the doctor’s tomorrow. I’m going to have to learn how to spell ‘inoculate’ again.

Though the king of France does not exist

Is he bald?

Well, let’s see. In one version of Uncle Angel’s historical novel, Brush with a Comb, (which is set in the future) we read

Louis XXVI was so hirsute that people said his head had been mugged by a shrub.

But in a later draft we read

“Look out!” muttered one of the guards through the side of his mouth. “Here comes King Chrome Dome.”

Of course, the reviewers noted that Louis XXVI seemed to be both bald and not bald, the novel being somewhat inconsistent on this point.

I think the question is pointless. If the King of France doesn’t currently exist, then it’s not currently possible to answer the question.

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Is snow white?

Yes. I assume that because the basic building block of snow is ice, which is clear, that there’s some physical property which makes snow appear white once crystals form flakes. It’s probably like clear plastic which, once you’ve folded it a few times, becomes silvery and translucent.

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Are all bachelors unmarried men?

Only if we’re using the word to mean “man who is unmarried or has never been married”. On the other hand, the word does have other senses such as “holder of a first degree” and “young knight who serves another”. So provided we’re clear about which one we’re using, there can be no such thing as a married bachelor.

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Who was the author of Waverley?

Sir Walter Scott, wasn’t it? I’m sure I’ve seen this question somewhere else, but can’t recall the import of it. It’s not one of those name-and-title things, which, I believe, Lewis Carroll did somewhere in one of the Alice books. The title of the book is X, but it’s name is Y. Apparently, this has something to do with Bertrand Russell and indefinite references to a thing. Here’s a paragraph from Russell’s Mysticism and Logic (Chapter X Knowledge by Acquaintance and Knowledge by Description) which explains the deal.

The first point to observe is that, in any proposition about ‘the author of Waverley’, provided Scott is not explicitly mentioned, the denotation itself, i.e., Scott, does not occur, but only the concept of denotation, which will be represented by a variable. Suppose we say ‘the author of Waverley was the author of Marmion’, we are certainly not saying that both were Scott — we may have forgotten that there was such a person as Scott. We are saying that there is some man who was the author of Waverley and the author of Marmion. That is to say, there is someone who wrote Waverley and Marmion, and no one else wrote them. Thus the identity is that of a variable, i.e., of an indefinite subject, ‘someone’, This is why we can understand propositions about ‘the author of Waverley’, without knowing who he was. Where we say ‘the author of Waverley was a poet’, we mean ‘out and only one man wrote Waverley, and he was a poet’; where we say ‘the author of Waverley was Scott’ we mean ‘one and only one man wrote Waverley, and he was Scott’. Here the identity is between a variable, i.e., an indeterminate subject (‘he’), and Scott; ‘the author of Waverley’ has been analysed away, and no longer appears as a constituent of the proposition.’

Alles klar, ja?

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Martian water. Like Perrier, but drinkable.

So, if some liquid found on Mars has the structure H₃O₂ and in all respects appears to resemble the more familiar H₂O, is it water?

You could call it “Martian water”, or this particular liquid could be called “water” in the right context (i.e., on Mars itself), but it seems to be a case of “Water, Jim, but not as we know it”.

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Colour me eye rolling.

There’s this colour, gruebleen, which is is green up to teatime in the year 2000 and blue thereafter. What colour is it really?

It isn’t a colour since the property of this so-called colour is inconsistent with the properties of other colours which remain constant. Colours can fade or be modified in various ways, but that’s due to external factors and not something the spectrum of visible light is about to do any time soon.

So, in other words, another meaningless sentence.

The next day. Shifting from one part of the spectrum to another is not a property of colours, but changes in colour are the property of quite a lot of things such as octopuses, chameleons, skin, leaves. We think of the thing changing colour rather than some shift in the colour itself, which might leave an odd gap in the spectrum. When leaves change colour from green to yellow or orange and then to brown, the colours themselves remain constant in other things.

As Willow liked to say, “Bored now”, which means we’ll look at the remaining short problems in this section tomorrow.