Christiaan Huygens is well-known for his use of symmetry arguments in mechanics. But he also used symmetry arguments when he set out the foundations of the modern theory of probability, in delightfully easy form. That is my reading, I’ll explain it here.
Note: I rely on Freudenthal’s translation from the Dutch where possible, my own otherwise, and will list the English translation in the Bibliography,for comparison.
1. What is a symmetry argument?
An object or situation is symmetric in a certain respect if relevant sorts of changes leave it just the same in that respect. For example if you hang a square painting upside down it is still square, though in other respects it is not the same. If you say it is symmetric, you are referring to certain characteristics and ignoring certain differences
A symmetry argument exploits the differences that remain after the selection of what counts as relevant. Suppose we want to solve a problem that pertains to a given situation S. We state the same problem for a different situation S*, mutatis mutandis, and solve it there. Then we argue that S* and S are essentially the same, that is, the same in all respects relevant to the problem. On this basis we take the solution for this problem for S to be the same as the solution we found for S*.
Whatever be the problem at issue, it is not well posed except in the presence of a prior selection of which aspects will count as the relevant respects. So that prior selection must be understood as a given in each case.
2. Huygens’ fundamental postulate
Postulate. For a decision to be made under uncertainty, in a given situation S, there is an equitable (just, fair, “rechtmatig”) game of chance S* that is in all relevant respects the same as S.
More specifically, if I am offered an opportunity for an investment, what that opportunity is worth equals what it would be worth for me to enter the corresponding equitable game.
A game is equitable if no player is at a disadvantage compared to the others (“daer in niemandt verlies geboden is”). That is a symmetry: the players all have the same role. If roles are reversed the game is still the same. For example if a Bookie offers a bet to a Player, the bet is an equitable bet if the chances and amounts of gain and loss would remain the same for each if their roles were reversed.
The Netherlands was a mercantile nation, financiers would get together to outfit ships for trade i the Orient. When this sort of situations, with their opportunities for investment, the merchant must determine what those opportunities are worth. The relevant respects are just the chances the players have of gaining the various possible gains or losses, and the amounts of those gains or losses. Note well that the selection of the respects which alone count as relevant is a matter of choice, of the participants. Given that Huygens addresses the case in which the relevant respects are the gains and chances alone, the Postulate is not a substantive assertion, nor an empirical claim.
Given this postulate and the concept of an equitable game, everything is in place for a typical symmetry argument.
3. A chancy set-up with two outcomes with equal chances
Proposition I. If I have the same chance to get a or b it is worth as much to me as (a + b)/2.
The situation might be the offer of an investment opportunity. What is the corresponding equitable game?
In an equitable game each player places the same stake, and the winner will get the total stake, but my have side-contracts with other players (as long as the relevant symmetries are not broken).
I play against another person, we each put up the same stake x (what we take the game to be worth for us to play), and we agree that whoever wins will give a to the other. The event (e.g. a coin toss) has two possible outcomes, with equal chance. What must be the stake x so that the game situation is perfectly symmetric for us, that is, for each of us to have equal chances to receive either a or b?
We have equal chances to be winner or loser. The winner gets the total stake, which is 2x, but gives a to the loser. The result must be that the winner ends up with b. So b = (2x – a). So solving for x, we arrive at the solution that the stake is x = (a + b)/2.
That is straightforward, and all the relevant details are explicit. It is not so straightforward when the proposition is generalized to a number of possible outcomes.
4. A chancy set-up with three outcomes with equal chances
Proposition II. If I have the same chance to get a or b or c it is worth as much to me as (a + b + c)/3.
Huygens’ argument here makes the corresponding equitable game to be one with three players. Each will enter with the same stake x. Let me be player P1. With player P2 I agree that each of us, if winning, will give the other b. With player P3 I agree that each of us, if winning, will give the other c.
The event is one with three outcomes, with equal chances, and the winner being P1 on the first outcome, P2 on the second, and P3 on the third. If P2 wins, I get b. If P3 wins, I get c. What must the stake x be to complete the picture, with me getting a if I win?
If I win I get the total stake 3x, but pay out b to P2 and c to P3. So what is required is that a = (3x – b – c), or equivalently, that the stake x = (a + b + c)/3.
At first sight this is again straightforward. It answers what my stake should be.
But what if the other players didn’t want to put up that stake? Is player P2 in the same position in this game as P3, given that they have made different contracts with me?
What was not explicit in Huygens’ proof is that players P2 and P3 must do something ‘just like’ what I did by entering those special contracts.
Suppose all players do place stake x = (a + b + c)/3. Player P3 will get a if he wins, and will get c if I win. To complete the picture he must get b if P2 wins. And similarly, P2 needs to get c if P3 wins. So P2 and P3 would have to make an un-symmetric contract.
Is that not to the disadvantage of one, depending on which of b or c is the greater? No, for whoever wins will get a, and if they do not win the have an equal chance of getting b or c.
WHAT THEY RECEIVE
If the winner is:
P1
P2
P3
P1
3x – b- c
b
c
P2
b
3x-b-c (c to P3)
c
P3
c
b (from P3)
3x – b – c (b to P2)
In the description of the game, the roles I gave myself and the roles the others play are not the same. But in fact the game is equitable, because the different roles are the same in the relevant respects. The difference does not affect the chances that each of us have to get any of the three amounts a, b, c, which are the same for all of us. Therefore if we reverse roles, if P3 and I change chairs, so to speak, our chances for receiving any of those good outcomes are not changed. Think of a game of cards in which one of the players holds the bank. If the game is equitable, it does not matter who holds the bank, and makes no difference if the banker changes roles with one of the others.
What matters once again is the prior selection of what will count as relevant.
As Huygens points out, this argument is easily extended to 4, 5, … different outcomes with equal chances.
5. A chancy set-up with unequal chances
So far we have looked at games in which the deciding event is something like a toss with a fair coin or with a fair die, or with several of them, or some other such device. What about games in which the decision about who wins is made with a biased coin or biased die? What if the possible gains are a and b but their chances are different?
The words “chance” and “chances”. There is some ambiguity in how we use the word “chance” which appears saliently in Proposition III. If I buy a ticket in a 1000-ticket lottery, the chance I have of winning is 1/1000. What if I buy five tickets? Then I have five chances of winning! Or, we also calculate, then the chance of winning I have is 5/1000.
In the vernacular these are two ways of saying the same thing, but these two ways of speaking do not go together. Putting them together we get nonsense: If I say that I have five chances of winning, and that the chance of winning is 5/1000, can I then ask which of those five chances is the chance of winning?
Proposition III. If the number of chances I have for a is p, and the number of chances I have for b is q, then assuming that every chance can happen as easily, it is worth as much to me as (pa + qb)/(p + q).
Huygens uses the first way of speaking, and we can understand as follows, with an example. For each game with a biased coin or die there is an equivalent game with cards. Consider a game in which the deciding event is the toss which a biased coin, so that the chance of Heads is 2/3 and chance of Tails is 1/3. This game is equivalent to a 3-card game, with equal chances, in which two cards are labeled H and one is labeled T, and the prize is a if a card with H is drawn and is b if a card with T is drawn.
This assertion of equivalence is an appeal to symmetry. The two games are the same in all relevant respects, thereforereasoning about the one is equally relevant reasoning about the other.
Just by choosing the first way of speaking, Huygens has reduced the problem of the biased coin or die to the previous case. The game with unequal chances is equivalent to a game with equal chances, and this Proposition III is the straightforward generalization of Proposition II to arbitrarily large cases.
NOTES
Expectation value. What Huygens calls ‘what it is worth for me” (e.g. “dit is mij zoveel weerdt als …” in Proposition I) matches what we now call the expectation value. We nevertheless read Huygens’ monograph as a treatise on probability, for the two notions are interdefinable. For example the probability of proposition A is the expectation value of a gamble on A with outcome 1 if true and 0 if false.
Finitude. Huygens arguments go only as far as cases with a finite number of outcomes, with probabilities that are all rational numbers.
Translation. Christiaan Huygens’ little 1657 monograph was the first modern book on probability theory. It was first written in Dutch with the title Van Rekeningh in Spelen van Geluck. We note in passing that the Dutch word (“geluk”, in modern spelling) means “chance” in this context but it is the same word for fortune and for happiness. (Does that reveal something about the Dutch character?) Van Schooten translated this into Latin and published it as part of a larger workd. Hans Freudenthal (1980) offered a number of criticisms of how the text is understood (the French translation was excellent, he says, and the German abysmal) so provided his own English translation of various parts. The English translation of 1714 is precious for its poetic character, and still easily available.
The original Dutch version and information on the translations is available online from the University of Leiden:
1 Suppositions and selective belief suspension page 1
2 Rules for reasoning: what is allowed under supposition page 3
Appendix I. The logical principles engendered by the rules page 5
Appendix II. The literature about supposition page 6
I am going for a week’s holiday in La Jolla in July, and so I am taking my lightest summer clothes. But suppose it rains all week? I’ll also take some extra books.
Suppositions are a common device in practical reasoning. They are there also closely, if not straightforwardly, connected with conditional judgments. From the above imagined monologue we may infer an implicit assertion of “If it rains, I will read”.
In the philosophical literature there are two guiding ideas about supposition (in its modern sense, illustrated above). The first is that it is a move in conversation or argumentation, posing a statement and inviting exploration of its implications. The second is that it is a ‘provisional updating”, closely related to the well-developed topic of how opinion is to change in response to actual new evidence or experience. Both approaches bring supposition into close relation to the logic of conditionals.
In Appendix II I will sketch an overview of the literature.
My approach here is of the first sort, which seems to me more fundamental. I will also relate reasoning under supposition to the logic of conditionals.
1. Suppositions and selective belief suspension
A supposition is not an assertion. “Suppose that A” is an injunction or invitation to explore the implications, in context, of the statement that A. While statements made in the course of a conversation or argument may have other functions as well, I will assume here for simplicity that they are all either assertions or suppositions (and come marked as such).
Practical deliberation. The example of holiday planning that I gave would be misleading if we took it as a general guide to reasoning with suppositions. It is quite special in that the speaker, who does not know whether or not it will rain, can rely on any and all knowledge and belief that s/he does have already.
Even for practical deliberation that is not always the case. We may momentarily suspend judgments on possibilities that we normally discount, reflecting that our opinions have not always been entirely accurate.
However there are at least three other familiar uses of suppositions where drawing on what is previously taken as given is very much restricted. The more extreme is reductio ad absurdum. The less extreme, but more common, is imaginative exploration in pursuit of subtler practical goals. Somewhere in between is the reliance on some specific, common knowledge or belief among participants in a discussion or between speaker and audience, with a bracketing or suspending of certain other shared knowledge or belief. While this is very common, it does not seem that we have any way of identifying what is kept, and what is bracketed, in general.
Reductio ad absurdum. Suppose I am an atheist, certain that it is true that God does not exist, and wish to show that the belief that He does is absurd. I could not very well proceed with “Suppose God exists. In fact he does not exist. Putting the two together we have a contradiction. So the supposition that God exists leads to an absurdity.” I ‘reiterated’ in my proof a line that preceded it, so to say, one of my beliefs given beforehand. That is not admissible: when making the supposition I must at the same time suspend or bracket a whole lot of the beliefs I have. Indeed, if the reductio ad absurdum is to be a logical proof I must suspend all of my factual beliefs.
Imaginative exploration. The less extreme case may arrive especially when there is an ostensible ulterior motive in the inquiry. “I know your brother is here to help you with your tax return. But if he were not, what would you do?” One response would be “Since we know that he is here the “But if” question does not arise”. That would ignore what was really the purpose the questioner had, namely to find out how able or adept or well prepared or knowledgeable the addressee is with respect to financial affairs. The “But if” requests a supposition, with a bracketing of a very specific, indeed specified, bit of knowledge, namely that the brother is there. Specific, but of course bringing in train various other bracketings, such as that he is easily reachable by telephone.
Conversation. What happens here is most easily noticed when it goes wrong. “If Peter had lit the fuse the bomb would have exploded.” “No, it wouldn’t! For Peter is very prudent, he would have first disconnected the fuse.” Here the first speaker keeps constant the knowledge that the fuse is connected to the bomb and leaves aside any special knowledge about Peter, while the second brackets the knowledge that the fuse is connected and keeps constant a certain belief about Peter.
Linguistic pointers to the “ceteris paribus”. Acknowledging the tacit selectivity in what is kept constant we may add “all things being equal”, “ceteris paribus”. The content of this clause, certainly not explicit, must be a specification of what is meant to be bracketed or held constant. The difference between indicative and subjunctive conditionals seems at first blush to point to a systematic difference that place. In the famous example “Suppose Oswald didn’t shoot Kennedy/ Suppose Oswald hadn’t shot Kennedy”, it seems that in the former we hold constant that Kennedy was shot, and in the latter that Oswald was the only shooter present.
There are two difficulties with this. First, while we can often quite readily tell what the difference is meant to be (as in this example), we have no general guide to how to make the difference. We only have metaphors, such as that of imagining what is near, nearer, or far among possible worlds. These suggest a form for reflection, but the same point applies: though able to give quick answers in particular cases, we can’t say how it works. The second difficulty is that even if there is a guide, it is very far from perfect. For in the example above, about Peter and the bomb, both conditionals are in the subjunctive. Yet the content of “all else being equal” is as different in these conditionals as it is in the Kennedy/ Oswald example.
All the efforts in the early history of this subject, by Chisholm, Goodman, Sellars, and others in the 40s, 50s, and early 60s, to find a general answer to the content of the “ceteris paribus” failed. Stalnaker and Lewis changed the game by shifting the focus to a general form for the truth conditions, instead on what the truth conditions were or could be. This ended that philosophical epoch.
Tentative conclusion, and project. What exactly a supposition carries as a requirement to suspend or bracket cannot be answered in general, at least not non-trivially. Whatever determines the content of the “ceteris paribus” we may assume to be determined by contextual factors not shown on the linguistic surface.
But we can still try to find some constraints to be met, if any principles for reasoning under supposition are to hold in general. And we can see if there might be a systematic way to signal what is to be kept constant, in the ideal case where nothing is left tacit or implicit.
Project. Let’s take as clue the point made at the beginning, that there appears to be an intimate connection between supposing and conditionals. In the example some reasoning went on from the supposition “it rains during the holiday” to the conclusion “If it rains during the holiday I will read”. Thomason (1970) presented natural deduction rules for what can be brought into that reasoning. I will explain the ones that were not in dispute between different logics of conditionals, present their rationale, and identify the logical principles that they engender.
2. Rules for reasoning: what is allowed in general under supposition
Let us imagine a person reasoning in monologue, like in the example at the start. He reasons in time, so the statements come one by one, they can be numbered. At a certain point the new line, say 17, begins with “Suppose that A”. After a certain amount of reasoning, in the following lines, say, 18-29, there is a conclusion “So, if A then B” (line 29) which, to introduce a good terminology, discharges the supposition.
What is allowed, in general, in those lines 18-28, between the supposition and the conclusion?
I will use symbol → for “if .. then”, but proceed informally here, and add an Appendix to summarize the results in formal fashion.
I will suppose, without argument, that Modus Ponens is valid for the conditional.
First suggestion for an addition: simple repetition is admissible here. So if we suppose that A then we can infer A there. Then we can discharge the supposition and conclude A →A.
Second suggestion: any purely logical reasoning is allowed there. So under supposition A, noting that X logically implies Y we can make that inference. So if we are able to conclude that (A → X) we can also conclude that (A →Y). In other words, reflecting on this, we see that if X implies Y then (A → X) implies (A →Y).
This also allows us to reason that if A implies B and A implies C then A implies (B & C), therefore A implies whatever (B & C) implies. This yields the general principle
if the argument from premises X to conclusion C is valid, and
if (A → B) is the case for each premise B in set X, then (A → C) is the case.
We can see this as showing that our discharging procedure is coherent. That is, we can verify that the rule of Conditional Introduction holds for → (to which we have been appealing informally so far) is a way of stating what our supposition-discharging procedure does. For now, when we are given that from a supposition A we can logically derive B, we can argue as follows:
A implies A, also A implies B; but A and B together imply B. Therefore A →B.
Now we have to face the really serious question: can any of the lines preceding line 17, let’s say line 13, appear reiterated in that passage 18-29? That means: can any of those lines be the same as line 13, with the justification precisely that the statement in question is there in the lines before the supposition (17) was entered?
A radical answer would just be: No!. And the justification for this No! would be that there is no general answer to what any given supposition requires us to bracket.
Third suggestion. There is a less radical answer, offered as part of a larger theory, by Richmond Thomason (1970). He proposes first of all the rule (which he calls “reit 1”) that after the supposition of A, in line 17 for example, we may insert any statement of form B if A → B has already appeared before that supposition. His argument for it is this:
The rule of reit 1 is, I think, an uncontroversial feature of conditional reasoning; if a conditional statement has been posited, the supposition of its antecedent allows its consequent to be asserted. “If the bill were passed, it would be declared unconstitutional.” “Well, suppose it were passed. Then, according to what you say, it would be declared unconstitutional …”. (Thomason 1970: 406)
That is not really enough for a perfect justification. The rule ‘reit 1’ ensures that previously all asserted conditionals must be part of what is kept constant, when new suppositions are entered. That is a kind of ‘consistency over time’ requirement.
We have to take this rule very strictly. For example the following argument is invalid:
A → C (Given)
A & B Supposition
A 2 conjunction elimination
A → C 1, reit
C 3, 4 modus ponens
(A & B) →C 2-4, conditional introduction
Here line 4. is illegitimate, for the reiterated conditional does not have the exact supposition (A & B) as its antecedent. (A previous line would have had to be (A & B) → (A → C) to license line 4 in this derivation.) Rule reit 1 provides a limited way of importing information, when reasoning under a given supposition, from outside that supposition.
And it is good to see how this argument is classified as invalid. For remember, the literature on counterfactual conditionals had from the beginning the seminal example that “This match would light, if struck” does not imply “This match would light, if wet and struck”.
Fourth suggestion. Thomason has another proposal that is also of a truly general form. With the conditional in hand we can introduce a defined notion of necessity: □A means (~A → A).
Thomason proposes the rule, which he calls “reit 2”, that if □A appears as a line before the supposition on line 17 then A can be in those lines 18-29.
Here is Thomason’s argument for his reit 2:
To simultaneously assert something of the form (~ A → A) and deny something of the form (B → A) is to say that a situation in which A does not obtain cannot be conceived, and yet that A does not obtain in some situation in which B is posited. (Thomason 1970: 407, with my symbolism replacing his)
This yields the principle that if it is necessary that (either not-A or B) then A → B. The effect of accepting this rule is that □(A ⊃ B) logically implies (A → B).
For example if Jones must be either in Paris or in London then (Jones is not in London → Jones is in Paris).
We need not give the “cannot be conceived” as much weight as Thomason does here. On the contrary, it affords a way to signal, conversationally and contextually, some things that are to be kept constant, not bracketed. The use of □ gives us a means of identifying statements made earlier that are meant to remain under supposition. The necessity may just be contextual, signaling that something is to be a presupposition rather than a mere assertion in this argumentative monologue.
Fifth suggestion. This one I will not endorse. Thomason’s rule “reit 4” engenders the principle is that if (A → B) and (B →A) are given, then (B → C) implies (A →C). We may think of it this way: the given establishes an equivalence relationship between A and B, and this equivalence is so strong that A and B are mutually replaceable as antecedents of conditionals.
Thomason’s “reit 4” fits with both Stalnaker’s and Lewis’ logics of conditionals, whose guiding idea is that conditional assertions are based on a ‘nearness’ relation among possible worlds. It may be instructive to note how Thomason and others have tried to give it plausibility. After discussion of an example, Thomason writes:
Thus, reit 4 will be valid if we assume that there is economy in the choosing of situations, i.e. if we assume that in positing a condition we imagine a situation ß differing from a situation already imagined only if we are forced to do so in virtue of the fact that the condition is false in α. This rule therefore reflects a “law of least effort” in envisaging situations. Equally well, we can regard reit 4 as reflecting an orderliness in the choosing of situations; we can suppose that the choice of situations is dependent on a preferential arrangement of situations which can be described independently of the process of imagining. (Thomason 1970: 410)
That is correct as an explanation of the rule. But it does not give a reason to think that the way we reason with conditionals is based on the relevant type of preferential arrangements.
Eva, Shear, and Fitelson are considerably less circumspect in their endorsement of the suggested principle, which they call Uniformity. If we imagine the principle not to hold, they write that asentence of form (A → B) & (B →A) & (B → C) & ~(A →C) would be sometimes true:
Clearly, this would be a deeply strange and counterintuitive result. (Eva, Shear, and Fitelson 2020: 7)
As for me, I have always had my doubts about it. But that will be a discussion for another occasion.
SUMMARY. It is clear that in actual reasoning under supposition we will rely on information not implied by the supposition, and much of that information will not be explicitly furnished. The rules in the first four suggestions above, as well as Modus Ponens, may be taken as correct for this sort of reasoning, under all circumstances. That is to say, challenges to someone’s actual reasoning under a supposition will be appropriate only for moves made not in accordance with those rules. The justification for such a challengeable move would presumably be for the agent to reveal information tacitly ‘held constant’. In an ideal case, there would be no need for it, for if A is to be held constant in this way, that could be conveyed by entering (~A →A) as a premise at the beginning.
3. APPENDIX I. The logical principles engendered by these rules
Here I will lay out more formally how these rules for reasoning under supposition engender certain logical implication relations among statements with conditionals. In this form it will be easier to connect this topic with logics of conditionals.
From the outset classical logic is assumed for for &, ~, and ⊃, as well as both Modus Ponens and Conditional Introduction for →. But the latter is allowed only following the rules of permission introduced in the suggestions above.
[I] (A → B) logically implies (A ⊃ B)
The triple A, ~B, A → B is inconsistent, by Modus Ponens
[II] A →A
Suppose A. Repetition is allowed as a deduction, so infer A. Discharge to form conclusion A → A.
[III] If X ├ Y then (A → X) ├ (A →Y)
(Using ├ for logical implication). If (A → X) is given enter the supposition A. By reit 1, insert X. Since X ├ Y deduce Y. Discharge to conclusion (A → Y).
[IV] A → B and A → C together imply A → (B & C)
Suppose that A → B and A → C are given; introduce supposition that A. By rule reit 1 we can write each of B and C below the supposition. By logical reasoning we derive (B & C) and then discharge the supposition to conclude A → (B & C).
[V] A → (B & C) implies A → B and also A → C.
This follows at once frome [III].
Given [IV] and [V] we can assert [III] in the more general form, with index set J finite:
[III*] If {Xi: i in J} together imply Y then {(A → Xi): i in J} together imply (A → Y)
[VI] □(A ⊃ B) logically implies (A → B)
This follows from the fourth of the suggested rules of permission. if □(A ⊃ B) is given, enter supposition A and insert (A ⊃ B). By classical reasoning deduce B; discharge to the conclusion (A → B).
APPENDIX II. The literature about supposition
The early paper by Rescher (1961) exemplifies what I called the first approach to supposition, namely to focus on its role in conversation and argumentation. As the title indicates, Rescher’s concern is specifically with suppositions believed to be false, and he argues that there can be no rule for what previously given information can serve when reasoning from a supposition. From this he concluded that the subject of counterfactual conditionals is not one for logic. In his later (1964) Rescher extends his discussion to hypotheses, which he says are suppositions whose truth-value may be doubtful or undetermined. In this way practical reasoning that is not belief-contravening is included in the scope of the book.
Fisher (1989) is also within the first approach, though motivated by the question of how to classify suppositions among speech acts. His initial example belongs to practical deliberation, and so could fit the notion of ‘provisional updating’. That is not explored, and he quickly introduces examples of the other sorts. Fisher introduces doubts about any straightforward connection between suppositions and conditionals, though his reasons do not go beyond exhibiting awkwardness in examples of reading “Suppose A. In that case B” as “If A then B”.
Green (2000) points out that “supposition” may refer either to a statement offered for supposing, or the speech act of doing so, or the agent’s intentional or conative state or act in doing so, and argues that there are norms governing these. He relates these norms directly to the natural deduction Conditional Introduction rule, but does not go into how that needs to have restrictions on its application.
Kearns (2006) presents a system of illocutionary logic, with the syntax of classical sentential logic augmented with illocutionary operators signifying assertion, denial, supposing true, supposing false. The semantics has two tiers: in the first truth-values are assigned, and the second provides a commitment evaluation (partial; positive, negative). When a supposition is introduced the agent/speaker remains committed to it until it is discharged (or otherwise removed). On this characterization of the agent’s activity it does seem apt to read a supposition as provisional updating. When Kearns turns to conditionals, his theory is that there are no conditional statements, a conditional assertion is neither true nor false. Rather, the act in question is the assertion of the consequent on the condition of the antecedent. A new illocutionary operator, signifying conditional assertion, is introduced. Kearns does not take up embedded conditionals in such examples as “If this vase would break if dropped on the floor then it would break if thrown against the wall”, and there does not seem to be a place for it in the syntax he describes. Even the simpler question of under what assumptions the antecedent “the vase would break if dropped on the floor” would entail the consequent “the vase would break if thrown against the wall” does not seem to be formulable here.
The second approach, relating supposition to updating, guided Isaac Levi’s work on supposition (Levi 1996; Magnani 1998-2000). The examples of practical deliberation lend themselves very well to the idea of suppositional reasoning as provisional belief updating. In my initial example the speaker introduces what would be, or could be, the occasion for a relevant updating of his beliefs: finding out that it is going to rain during his vacation. Spinning out the implications about his situation in that case and his preferences, he concludes that in that case he will wish to spend his time reading. These reflections are evoked precisely by his ignorance or uncertainty about what will happen, and the supposition does not contravene any of his beliefs. So this is a special case. It may be suggested that the difference is that in this case the conditional will be in the indicative rather than the subjunctive. That may be so, though it won’t be very clear in actual usage, since the subjunctive is not much used in contemporary English. But if so, it would seem that supposition is, in most of the sorts of examples found, connected with the subjunctive, and hence less easy to see as provisional updating.
It is in Eva, Shear, and Fitelson (2020) that the second approach is most fully, and technically, explored. “Suppositions – or propositions provisionally accepted for the sake of argument – afford … tools for deliberation. We use these tools to guide activities that are essential to intelligent behavior …”. When a supposition introduced in the indicative, we are concerned with what we would expect if we learned that it was true. When in the subjunctive, we align our evaluations with our judgments about how things would be if it were true.” They then explore four different theories that connect supposition to updating.
While this work is too large for an exposition here, we may just note how it brings to light an interesting difference between qualitative accounts of straight updating and of provisional updating. The former has the principle of Preservation: if your beliefs so far are consistent with new input S then add S to your beliefs. The latter has the principle Compositionality: if the set of worlds compatible with beliefs B is the union of the sets of worlds respectively compatible with B’ and B”, then that relation (of union) also holds after updating on supposition S. An example would be: I believe that Peter is either in France or in Italy, and I am asked “What if Peter were in a capital city?” It seems I would naturally answer “Then he would be either in Paris or in Rome”. Eva et al. construct a counterexample to this, for when the question is placed in indicative mood, with respect to a a notion of belief that is not full belief, i.e. not equated with (or implying) subjective probability 1.
REFERENCES
Eva, Benjamin; Ted Shear; and Branden Fitelson (2020) “Four Approaches to Supposition”. phisci-archive.pitt.edu/18412/7/fats.pdf
Fisher, Alec (1989) “Suppositions in Argumentation”. Argumentation 3: 401-413.
Kearns, John T. (2006) “Conditional Assertion, denial, and supposition as illocutionary acts”. Linguistics and Philosophy 29: 455-485.
Levi, Isaac (1996) For the Sake of Argument: Ramsey Test Conditionals, Inductive Inference, and Nonmonotonic Reasoning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Magnani, Lorenzo (1998-2000) “Suppositional reasoning, induction, and non-monotonic inferences” (Review of Isaac Levi). Modern Logic 8: 159-165.
Rescher, Nicholas (1961) “Belief-Contravening Suppositions”. The Philosophical Review 70: 176-196.
Thomason, Richmond H. (1970) “A Fitch-style formulation of conditional logic”. Logique et Analyse N. S. 13: 397-412.
In the 1880s Lewis Carroll, of Alice in Wonderland fame, disputed logical principles about conditionals with the (then) celebrated Oxford philosopher John Cook Wilson. Carroll published a paper with a short story about a barbershop, calling it “A Logical Paradox”. A dozen or so of his learned colleagues offered confusing replies. Some twenty years later, after Lewis Carroll’s death, Bertrand Russell dismissed it wittily; Cook Wilson dismissed it scathingly that same year.
Cook Wilson and Russell were both wrong. That is hindsight: the logic of counterfactuals did not properly take off for another fifty years.
The Argument page 1
Two questions to be answered page 1
The problems with conditionals page 2
A Questioning the rule of Conditional Proof page 2
B Questioning Import-Export page 3
Pragmatics of Conditionals page 4
Appendix. John Cook Wilson’s note about the paradox page 4
The Argument
Allen, Brown, and Carr have a barbershop.
(a) At least one of them must be in, to receive clients.
(b) If Allen is out, so is Brown, who is required to accompany the ailing Allen.
Lewis Carroll’s protagonist argues that Carr is sure to be in. Here is his argument, in summary, with present day annotations:
Assume Carr is out
Assume that Allen is out
Brown is in …. by 1, 2, and (a)
If Allen is out then Brown is in …. 2-3: Conditional Proof
If Allen is out then Brown is out …. (b)
Carr is not out …. 1, 4, 5 Reductio ad absurdum
That clearly can’t be right, for Allen might, from the kindness of his heart, stay in when Carr needs to be out.
Two questions to be answered
First, if the argument is so obviously fallacious, how can it have been so seductive as to confute Carroll’s dozen or so philosopher friends? And secondly, just what are the wrong or questionable moves in the argument?
I suppose that initially the argument appeals because individual steps seem to be warranted by familiar valid inferences. But that cannot be the reason why the appeal seems to persist when that appearance is overcome. It is rather, I think, that there is another valid argument just nearby, in the neighborhood so to speak. And even a genuine problem about just how we should understand reasoning under supposition.
Notice that the two premises have a modal character: they are about what must be. What if we give the same necessity to what is assumed as suppositions in the argument?
1*. Assume that Carr must be out
2*. Assume then also that Allen must be out
The latter brings in train, via (b) that Brown must be out as well. So all three must be out, but (a) says that at least one must be in. A straightforward impossibility.
What did Lewis Carroll’s readers, attempting to follow the argument with charity, think they had to do? Just what is it, to “assume” or “suppose”? Reasoning under supposition, and its probability version, conditionalization, have their pitfalls. If you ask me to assume Allen is out, am I not meant to mentally remove all other possibilities? If not, if I am meant to do something less radical, just what is that?
It seems plausible to me that inherent difficulties with reasoning under supposition that accounts for the puzzled attention the ‘paradox’ received. The connections between supposing, updating one’s beliefs (whether for real or for the sake of argument), and the (at that time as yet unborn) logic of conditionals remain a subject for puzzles to this day.
The problems with conditionals
The first, and obvious, reply to Lewis Carroll is that the conjunction of 4 and 5, “If Allen is out then Brown is in and if Allen is out then Brown is out”, is not a self-contradiction. This was clearly stated by Miss E. E. C. Jones (1905). Her view of the nature of conditionals seems close to two views I’ll mention below, C. I. Lewis and Arthur Burks, and she was sharply rebuked by Cook Wilson (of which more in the Appendix below).
Russell offers the same reply, that same year, but on the basis of a quite different view. He gives it as an argument on behalf of the thesis that “if … then” is truth-functional, that the conditional is just the material conditional. Therefore 4. and 5. together amount to “Either Allen is in or Brown is either in or out”. So 1-5 establishes only that either Carr is in or Allen is in. “The odd part of this conclusion is that it is the one which common sense would have drawn” (for recap see Jourdain 1918: 39).
But that the conditional is the material conditional is not a conclusion which common sense would have drawn. What we can say, more modestly, is this:
if Modus Ponens holds for the conditional – and this may be criterion for what it is to be a conditional at all – then 4. and 5. cannot both be true if Allen is out. So together they imply that Allen is in.
And that suffices for that point.
Nevertheless we are not home safe, for the argument appears to have several ellipses. Even if we grant that 4 and 5 together imply only that Allen is not out, there is still the question of how we arrived at 4 and 5, and how we go from there to conclude Carr’s absence.
There appear to be two ways, and both involve forms of argument that are invalid in general in reasoning with conditionals. One is an unquestioning reliance on Conditional Proof, and the other is a reliance on another rule, Import-Export.
Questioning the rule of Conditional Proof
The rule of Conditional Proof applied in an argument with conditionals raises an eyebrow, due to the puzzles about counterfactuals which Goodman and Chisholm posed in the 1950s.
The paradigm example of a problem with conditionals at that time was that the following two conditionals are compatible:
(c) If this match be struck it will light
(d) If this match be moistened and struck it will not light
So Weakening of the antecedent is not an admissible rule for conditionals in general. But then Conditional Proof isn’t either, for witness how it leads at once to a derivation of the rule of Weakening of the antecedent:
P → Q … premise
P & R … assume
P …. from [2]
Q ….. [1], [3] Modus Ponens
(P & R) → Q …. [2]-[4] Conditional Proof
So that rule of Conditional Proof, used in the paradox argument, is at best suspect. It is suspect in modal contexts in general. Frederick Fitch introduced limitations to its use when necessity and possibility are in play, and later Richmond Thomason did the same for when conditionals are involved.
2. Questioning Import-Export
Lewis Carroll’s Barber Paradox did not disappear after Russell’s witty dismissal or Cook Wilson’s acrimonious note. The logic of conditionals evolved slowly between Goodman (1947) and Stalnaker (1970), but we witness an important step in the discussion of the paradox by Arthur Burks and Irvin Copi (1950). This discussion is from the point of view of Burks’ theory of causal conditionals.
In their summary of the argument they restate the premises as follows:
Letting ‘A’ abbreviate “Allen is out”, and similarly with ‘B’ and ‘C’, we can state these two rules as
(1) if (C and A) then not-B
(2) If A then B
and they diagnose the argument as proceeding implicitly from these by the step from (1) to
(3) If C then (if A then not-B)
They call it ‘exporting’ and it is one-half of what we now call the principle of Import-Export which equates (1) and (3).
After this move, the rule of Modus Tollens leads from (2) and (3) to not-C, provided (if A then B) and (if A then not-B) are contraries.
That they are indeed contraries, rightly understood, Burks and Copi insist. For they read these conditionals as asserting that the antecedent provides a sufficient reason for the truth of the consequent. And it cannot be the case that this antecedent, a contingent proposition about Allen’s presence, could give sufficient reasons both for Brown’s presence and Brown’s absence.
But the argument is nevertheless invalid, they submit, for the move from (1) to (3) is invalid. Import-Export fails for causal conditionals.
Violations of Import-Export appear in the likeliest of places. It is a valid principle for the material conditional, but what isn’t? It does not hold generally in modal contexts.
This was already pointed out by Lewis and Langford (1932: 146) They define the conditional of strict implication as follows: A ==> B is true exactly if it is necessary that either not-A or B. Import-Export fails for ==>; for example:
It is necessary that if the cupola is both square and round then there are gryphons in it. But if in fact the cupola is round it does not follow, neither necessarily or in any other way, that necessarily, if the cupola is square there are gryphons in it.
Burks and Copi submit that the ‘exporting’ inference does not hold for causal conditionals either, and the clear fallaciousness of the barber paradox argument shows that.
We can add to this today that we have still other examples, of different sorts, for failures of Import-Export in reasoning with conditionals.
Pragmatics of conditionals
There is a different way to approach reasoning about the barbershop. What if I ask you “Will Carr be out? What if Allen is out?”
The “if” question asks you to consider a situation that may or may not be actual. Doing so, you will keep fixed some of the things you know or believe, but set aside some that would stymie the question. Now you have to make a choice. If you keep fixed that at least one must be in, then you say “Carr may be out; in that case, if Allen is out, Brown is in”. If on the other hand you keep fixed that Brown is out when Allen is out, you answer, “Then Carr cannot be out, for if Allen were out then Allen and Brown would both be out”. And finally, you certainly do not keep both those bits of your belief fixed, together with the supposition that both Carr and Allen are out, for that would stymie the question.
So, by the natural way in which we deal with “What if?” questions, selecting (whether consciously or unconsciously) what we keep fixed and what we leave open, we avoid the self-contradictions in the barber shop paradox and elsewhere.
There are various versions of the logic of conditionals whose design begins with the intuition that the speaker assumes the antecedent while keeping some things open and some things fixed. The phrase other things being equal is taken seriously there, and taken to have a certain kind of content. All the principles of the logic in question follow from what the author takes that content to be like in general.
Appendix. John Cook Wilson’s note about the paradox
The notes about the paradox in Mind 1905 signed “W.” appear to be by Cook Wilson (see Marion 2022). W. begins with his own take on the fallacies in the paradox, and then proceeds to castigate Miss Jones’ article which, he submits, “fails in all points”, and he ends with an elephantine bit of irony at her expense.
So let us examine his own response. Like Burks and Copi he submits that the paradox generating argument really “starts from the proposition
(v.) ‘If Carr is out, then if Allen is out, Brown is in.’”
This he follows at once with an explanation that (v.) means
‘If Carr is out and Allen is out, Brown is in’
unaware that the rule of Import-Export is exactly one of the principles put in question when it comes to the logic of conditionals.
There are further familiar difficulties. Cook Wilson held that all propositions are categorical, and ‘hyptheticals’ are not propositions at all, but codes for rules of inference (‘inference tickets’ as Ryle would later say). So when W. decides to get to the heart of the matter, he tries hard to present the paradox in ‘the right way’:
But the proposition ‘ If Allen is out Brown is in’ is a universal proposition which if valid at any time is valid at all times; it represents a rule which is always valid. It cannot, therefore, be a consequence of Carr’s being out, necessarily valid only at the time when Carr is out. In fact the proposed interpretation amounts to the absurd statement: “The rule ‘If Allen is out Brown is in,’ which if valid at all must be valid at all times is only necessarily valid at the times when Carr is out”.
Cook Wilson’s view is not in the least plausible. Imagine this dialogue: “Is your brother in”? “Look in the hall. If his hat is there he is in.” “Oh, is that always the case?” “No, not at all, but it is today because he went out wearing his hat.”
Note also that on Cook Wilson’s view of conditionals, it does not seem that they can be meaningfully embedded as parts of statements. It needs the bits of meta-language that he inserts. This too flies in the face of common examples (such as, in fact, his line (v.) above).
As for Cook Wilson’s responses, then, there is no need to add a final bit of irony .
PS. Why should I refer to E. E. C. Jones as “Miss Jones”, and not to Cook Wilson as “Mr. Cook Wilson”? Here I follow the style on page viii of Mind 1905’s table of contents. It is clear that the editor did not want the unusual to go unnoticed.
Jones offered a spirited reply to W. in Mind’s last issue of that year.
Emily Elisabeth Constance Jones, portrait by John Lavery
References
Burks, Arthur W. (1951) “The logic of causal propositions”. Mind 60: 363-382.
Burks, Arthur W. and Irving M. Copi (1950) “Lewis Carroll’s barber shop paradox”. Journal of Symbolic Logic 15 (03): 219-222.
Carroll, Lewis (Charles Dodgson) (1884) “A Logical Paradox”. Mind N. S. 3 (11): 436-438.
Jones, E. E. C. (1905) “Lewis Carroll’s Logical Paradox”. Mind N. S. 14 (56): 146-148 and 576-578.
Jourdain, Philip E. B. (2011) The Philosophy of Mr. B*rtr*nd R*ss*ll. London: George Allen & Unwin. Downloadable on Project Gutenberg.
Lewis, Clarence I. and C. H. Langford (1932/1959) Symbolic Logic. New York: Dover.
Marion, Mathieu (2022) “John Cook Wilson”. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Edward N. Zalta (ed.).
Moktefi, A. (2007) “Lewis Carroll and the British nineteenth-century logicians on the barber shop problem”. Proceedings of The Canadian Society for the History and Philosophy of Mathematics’ Annual Meeting (Concordia University, Montréal, July 27-29, 2007). Ed. Antonella Cupillari. http://www.cshpm.org/archives/proceedings/proceedings_2007.pdf. Article text available on ResearchGate.
W. (John Cook Wilson) (1905) ‘Lewis Carroll’s Logical Paradox’. Mind N. S. 14: 292–293. With correction, Mind N. S. 14: 439.
When Sellars wrote his article on causal modalities and counterfactual conditionals in 1958, he was reacting to the arguments of Chisholm and Goodman. Sellars sets out to disarm those arguments. In doing so he develops a theory of conditionals that accommodates the troubling and puzzling examples. It is quite a decent theory of conditionals, when it is put in modern form, and could have held its ground in debates in the years before Stalnaker and Lewis changed the game.
The core of the problem page 1
Sellars’ representation of nature: the thing-kind framework page 2
Conditionals in this framework page 2
What conditionals are in this framework page 3
Sellars’ theory in modern form page 4
Principles that hold for Sellars’ conditionals page 5
Handling the examples about counterfactuals page 7
Nesting and iteration of conditionals page 8
1. The core of the problem
One point about conditionals was central and crucial. It had been assumed that the logic of conditionals must mimic the logic of valid arguments. That would mean that Weakening would hold: an argument will remain valid if extra premises are added. If A implies C then (A & B) implies C, and by that mimicry, “if A then C” must imply “If (A & B) then C”. But “this match would light if struck” does not imply “this match would light if moistened and struck”.
The crucial point about the failure of Weakening is that reasoning under supposition will fail for conditionals. For Weakening can be ‘proved’ as follows:
if A then C (Given)
A & B Supposition
A 2 conjunction elimination
C 1, 3 modus ponens
if A & B then C 2-4, conditional introduction
The rule of conditional introduction is the principle for discharging a supposition, which works fine for valid arguments. It fails when mimicked for conditionals.[1] Given this, there quickly follow other examples of reasoning with conditionals which are not in accord with earlier logics, such as C. I. Lewis’ modal logic of ‘strict implication’.
2. Sellars’ representation of nature: the thing-kind framework
To make his point, Sellars introduces what he takes to be the canonical form of the language of science, namely the language of the thing-kind framework. That is “the conceptual framework in terms of which we speak of what things do when actedupon in certain ways in certain kinds of circumstance” (1958: 225).
The basic pattern he describes as follows:
Suppose we have reason to believe that
𝜙-ing Ks (in circumstances C) causes them to 𝜓
(where K is a kind of thing – e .g., match). Then we have reason to believe of a particular thing of kind K, call it x, which is in C, that
x, would 𝜓, if it were 𝜙-ed.
And if it were 𝜙-ed and did 𝜓, and we were asked “Why did it 𝜓?” we would answer, “Because it was 𝜙-ed”; and if we were then asked, “Why did it 𝜓 when 𝜙-ed?” we would answer “Because it is a K.” If it were then pointed out that Ks don’t always 𝜓 when 𝜙-ed, we should counter with “They do if they are in C, as this one was.” (Sellars 1958: 248.)
The point is that the antecedent is an input (action or interaction) statement, the consequent an output statement, and neither input nor output statements describe circumstances (standing conditions). As an example I would take: “if this vase be thrown against the wall it will break”.
Sellars is not easy to read, but this article combined with the earlier “Concepts as involving laws and inconceivable without them” (1948), yields a clear and simple account of just what proposition is expressed by a conditional, on Sellars’ view.[2]
A given thing x of kind K will have a history, which is a trajectory in its state-space. What is characteristic of kind K is not only that specific state-space, but a selection from the set of logically possible histories: the family of histories such a thing can really have, its nomologically possible histories.
“In speaking of a family of possible worlds, what are we to understand by a “world”? Let us begin with the following: A world is a spatio-temporal structure of atomic states of affairs which exhibits uniformities of the sort we have in mind when we speak of the laws of nature.” (1948: 293)
This passage he immediately follows with the admonition to abandon the term “world”, and to speak of possible histories instead:
“Our basic framework is thus a family of possible histories, one of which is the actual and possible history.” (ibid.)
In that framework, kind K is characterized by a restricted family of possible histories: the histories which alone are possible for things of kind K.
3. Conditionals in this framework
Starting with the basic pattern in the quoted passage from Sellars, it is clear that “x, would 𝜓, if it were 𝜙-ed” is true in a situation where x’s kind and the circumstances are ‘just right’. It seems also that in the same conditions “x will 𝜓 , if it is 𝜙-ed” is true, and that this is in addition quite independent of whether the antecedent is true or false. But in a situation where the kind and circumstances are not ‘just right’ we need to think about other conditions. It may be that the conditional is just false, but it is also possible that the antecedent is impossible in those conditions, or the antecedent is possible but not in combination with the consequent. (I will give several examples below.) In that case, the conditional is not just a counterfactual, but a counterlegal.
Rather than ‘proof-texting’ with quotations, here is my summary for the special case in the 1958 passage quoted above:
Explication. To assert “x, would 𝜓, if it were 𝜙-ed” is to assert that the situation is felicitous for this conditional to be true.
The kind and circumstances are felicitous for that conditional exactly if there is a kind K to which x belongs, and there are circumstances C that x is presently in, which are together compossible with x being 𝜙-ed and 𝜓-ing, and it is the case that in all histories possible for any things of kind K in circumstances C, that they 𝜓 when 𝜙-ed.
I italicized “any” to show that on this understanding there is an underlying universal claim, overriding differences that may mark individuals of the same kind in the same circumstances.
The condition of compossibility is crucial to accommodate puzzling examples.
Example 1: There may be a kind of match which lights when moistened (with a special chemical that oxidizes rapidly when wet) and does not light if struck, for striking it removes the chemical. There is also the familiar kind of match which will light if struck only when dry. But there is no kind of match which will light when both moistened and struck. The antecedent is not impossible: take any match at all, and at will you can both moisten and strike it. But its combination with the consequent is impossible.
Example 2: The electric circuit in this room is such that the light will go on if either switch A or switch B, but not both, is in the down position. Currently both switches are in the up position. So both conditionals “if A is clicked the light will be on” and “If B is clicked the light will be on” are true, but the conditional “If A is clicked and B is clicked the light will be on” is false. Again, the antecedent is not impossible: you can click both switches. But the result will not be to turn on the light.
4. What conditionals are in this framework
In this Explication, the conditional in question is construed as an existential statement of fact: there is a kind K and circumstance C that characterize this situation such that …. An existential statement is in effect a disjunction, generalized to cover the case of infinitely many alternatives. So “If A then B” will amount to:
the case described in A amounts to a disjunction of combinations of kinds and circumstances {K(i) and C(i): i is in J}, each of which is compossible with A and B, and for which all histories that satisfy A also satisfy B
The implication relation signified by ‘all histories that satisfy … also satisfy …’ encodes the usual valid argument relationship.
So, on this view, a conditional is a disjunction involving a modality. Weakening does not hold for conditionals, due to the compossibility requirement.
We note one oddity, a difference from more familiar theories of conditionals, that has to do with modality. Suppose A logically implies B. In familiar theories of conditionals the conditional ‘if A then B’ is then automatically true. But there may be kinds K and circumstances C which are not compossible with A and B. In that case the conditional “if A then B” will not be logically valid. In fact, in that case this conditional is simply the disjunction of all kinds K(i) and circumstances C(i) compossible with A and B.
For example if something is scratched with a human nail then it is scratched with something human. But a steel vase cannot be scratched with a human nail. So then, on this Sellarsian account, it is not correct to assert, when looking at a steel vase in normal circumstances, that it would be scratched by something human if it were scratched by a human nail.
Yes, it is odd. But if someone were to assert that, while we are looking at a steel vase in normal circumstances, that would be very odd too! In this case, the counterfactual is a counterlegal conditional, and counterlegals pose a host of further difficulties for our intuitions (see e.g. Fisher 2017).
5. Sellars’ theory in modern form
Sellars 1948 and 1958 together spell out the thing-kind framework, with the elaboration into the possible histories of things of certain kinds in certain circumstances, but not in the precise form that we now require. Yet it is clear enough to provide a fairly straightforward way to put this in modern form.
If the main concepts are to be generalized, intuitively, then we can read “kind” and “circumstance” to stand for “whatever grounds the laws of nature” and “boundary conditions”. But I will keep the symbols K and C and the mnemonic “kind” and “circumstance” throughout.
A model will be a triple <H, P, F>, each element a non-empty set: I will call H the set of situations, P is a partition of H, and F, the family of propositions, is a set of subsets of H.
The elements of H, which correspond to Sellars’ possible histories, are also triples <K, C, 𝜋>. We think of possible situations as involving a single particular (whether a physical system or a whole world). This particular is classified as being of a certain kind K, as being in certain circumstances C, and as having a history 𝜋 (which could have various further attributes, not specifically spelled out here, such as being 𝜙-ed).
The family F may not be the family of all subsets of H. But we specify that it includes both H and the empty set Λ, and is closed under intersection, union, and relative complement. So F is a complete field (Boolean algebra) of sets. But moreover we specify that P is part of F, where we now define P as the family of all sets <K, C> with the definition:
<K, C> = {x in H: there is a factor 𝜋 such that x = <K, C, 𝜋>}.
In other words, a cell of this partition P is the set of all possible histories for an individual of kind K in circumstances C. How many cells does this partition have? How many kinds, and how many circumstances, are there that can go together in this way? We leave that open, so there are large models and small models, even models with just a single cell in that partition.
When are kind and circumstances in a given cell X of Pfelicitous for the conditional A →B? Compossibility is just being possible together. So what is required is that X ∩ A ∩B is not empty.
Abbreviation. “◊( X ∩ A ∩B)” for “( X ∩ A ∩B) ≠ Λ”
We can then define the operation that forms conditionals:
Definition. A → B = ∪{X in P: ◊( X ∩ A ∩B) and X ∩ A ⊆ B}
Abbreviation. To facilitate reading I will abbreviate “◊( X ∩ A ∩B)” to “◊” whenever the context allows that to be clear.
By this definition, every such conditional is a proposition, for if A and B are in F then A → B is a union of cells in partition P, all of which belong to F, which is closed under union. So F is closed under the operation →.
A conditional proposition is in general quite a large set of situations. It comprises all the situations in which the kind and circumstances are just right to make B follow from A. That is just what we saw above, in Sellars’ exposition, in terms of disjunctions.
Truth. If x is a situation and A is a proposition then A is true in x exactly if x is a member of A.
Notice that if x and y are both situations belonging to a given cell X of P then any conditional true in x is true in y. The special factor plays no role in the truth conditions for conditionals, though it may encode many other aspects of that situation, and figure in the truth conditions of sentences that involve no arrows.
What principles hold or fail in the logic of Sellars’ theory of conditionals?
6. Principles that hold for Sellars’ conditionals
Modus Ponens. A ∩ (A → B) ⊆ B
If A and A →B are both true in x then B is true in x.
For if the premises are true in situation x, then x is in A and x is in ∪{X in P: ◊ & X ∩ A ⊆ B}. But if x is in the union of the family {X in P: ◊ & X ∩ A ⊆ B} then x is in one of the cells, Xo, in that family. So x is in A and in Xo and X ∩ A ⊆ B}. there x is in B.
Impossibility. (A → ~ A) = Λ
For there is no cell X such that ◊( X ∩ A ∩ ~A) .
Definition. ◊(A, B) = ∪{X in P: ◊( X ∩ A ∩B)}
Entailment. If A ⊆ B then (A → B) = ◊(A, B)
Forif A ⊆ B then, for any cell X in P it is the case that ◊( X ∩ A ∩B) and X ∩ A ⊆ B if and only if ◊( X ∩ A ∩B).
This has the corollary that (A → A) = ◊(A, A).
The principle that A → B implies A → (A & B) does not seem to have a standard name; I’ll call it Carry-over. This has the corollaries that A → ~ A implies A → (A & ~A), and that ~A → A implies ~A → (A & ~A), which mark the cases in which A is impossible or necessary.
In terms of propositions:
Carry-over. (A → B) ⊆ [A →(A ∩ B)]
For suppose situation y is in the union of the cells in the family {X in P: ◊ & X ∩ A ⊆ B), and hence in a specific cell Xo in that family. Since Xo, A, B are compossible then so are Xo, A, A ∩ B. And since Xo ∩ A ⊆ B it is the case that Xo ∩ A ⊆ A ∩ B. So y is in [A → (A ∩ B)].
In normal modal logic the principle that if B1, … , Bn implies C then □B1, … , □Bn A implies □C, is sometimes called Goedel’s rule. So I’ll choose that to name the analogous principle for conditionals: If A, B1, … , Bn implies C then A → B1, … , A → Bn implies A → C. Notice that this is much weaker than the Classic or Intuitionist principle that if A, B ├ C then B ├ A → C.
In terms of propositions rather than sentences it becomes:
Goedel. If (B1 ∩ … ∩ Bn) ⊆ C then(A → B1) ∩ … ∩ (A → Bn) ⊆ (A → C)
Without real loss of generality I will provide the argument just for the case n = 2.
Suppose B1 ∩ B2 ⊆ C. Suppose also that (A → B1) ∩ (A → B2) is true in y. It follows that y is in a cell X such that ◊(X ∩ A ∩B1) and X ∩ A ⊆ B1, and that y is in a cell Y such that ◊( Y ∩ A ∩ B2) and Y ∩ A ⊆ B2.
Since y can only be in one cell, it must be a cell Xo such that ◊(Xo ∩ A ∩B1) and ◊( Xo ∩ A ∩ B2) and Xo ∩ A ⊆ B1and Xo ∩ A ⊆ B2. Therefore Xo ∩ A ⊆ C.
In addition, because ( Xo ∩ A ∩B1) is not empty it follows that ( Xo ∩ A) is not empty, and since that is part of C, it follows that ◊( Xo ∩ A ∩ C).
Therefore Xo, which contains y, is part of the union of the cells X such that ◊( Xo ∩ A ∩ C) and X ∩ A ⊆ C, which is A → C. Therefore A → C is true in y.
The Principle that “and” distributes over “if … then”, A → (B & C) ├ (A → B) & (A → C), and conversely, has its formulation in terms of propositions:
∩-Distribution 1. A → (B ∩C) ⊆ [(A → B) ∩ (A → C)]
If cell X is such that X ∩ A ⊆ B ∩ C then it is certainly such that X ∩ A ⊆ B and X ∩ A ⊆ C.
Moreover, if ◊( X ∩ A ∩ B ∩ C) then ◊( X ∩ A ∩ C).
∩-Distribution 2. [(A → B) ∩ (A → C)] ⊆ [A → (B ∩C)]
For suppose that situation y is in both [(A → B) and (A → C). Since y cannot be in more than one cell, y is in some cell Xo such that ◊( X ∩ A ∩ B) and ◊( X ∩ A ∩ C), and moreover X ∩ A ⊆ B and X ∩ A ⊆ C. The latter two facts entail that (X ∩ A) ⊆ (B ∩ C). The former two facts each entail that X ∩ A is not empty. But together with (X ∩ A) ⊆ (B ∩ C) that implies that ◊( X ∩ A ∩ B ∩ C).
Of the corresponding principle, that “or” distributes over “if .. then”, generally called Conditional Excluded Middle or CEX, one part holds but the other part fails, as we will see below.
CEX 1. (A → B) ∪ (A → C) ⊆ [A → (B ∪ C)]
For if X ∩ A ⊆ B then X ∩ A ⊆ (B∪ C). Note that ◊( X ∩ A ∩B) implies that ◊[ X ∩ A ∩ (B ∪ C)] . We may also note that CEX 1 follows from the simpler principle (again I don’t have a standard name, but it is a special case of Goedel):
Weakening on the right. If B ⊆ C then (A → B) ⊆ (A → C).
For if ◊( X ∩ A ∩B) and B ⊆ C then ◊( X ∩ A ∩ C).
7. Handling the examples about counterfactuals
The examples I gave above with matches and light switches can be represented by little models of this sort. So we know, for example, that Weakening fails for conditionals, in general.
Weakening. If A → C ⊆ [(A ∩ B) → C]. FAILS.
The simple reason is that ◊( X ∩ A ∩ C) does not guarantee that ◊( X ∩ A ∩ B ∩ C).
CEX2. [A → (B ∪ C)] ⊆ (A → B) ∪ (A → C). FAILS.
For example, C = ~B, then the part of A in any cell will be included in (B ∪ ~B) but there will in general be cells in which A is not included either in B or in ~B, but overlaps both.
Centering. A ∩ B ⊆ (A → B). FAILS.
Suppose that y is in A ∩ B. Then there is a cell Xo in P such that y is in Xo ∩ A ∩ B. Since P is a partition, the cells do not overlap, so y can be in the union of the cells {X in P: ◊ & X ∩ A ⊆ B} only if it is in one of those cells. But Xomay not be one of those, it may be a cell where A overlaps both B and ~B.
There is a traditional principle that is much discussed in this subject area, Import-Export (A & B) → C ├ A → (B → C), and its converse A → (B → C) ├ [(A & B) → C].
Counterexample. There is only one cell, X. A is non-empty, but A and B do not overlap, B is a non-empty part of C. So (B → C) = X. X is compossible with A and A is part of X, hence of (B → C). So it is also the case that X = [A → (B → C)].
Since B is part of C, (A ∩ B) is also part of C, but (A ∩ B) is empty, So (A ∩ B ∩ C) is empty. So X is not [(A ∩ B) → C], which is in fact the empty set, and does not have X as a part.
Import-Export 2. (A ∩ B) → C ⊆ [A → (B → C)]. FAILS.
Counterexample (see Diagram below). In this model there are exactly two cells, X0 and X1.
◊( Xo ∩ A ∩B ∩ C) and Xo ∩ A ∩ B ⊆ C, but Xo ∩ B is not part of C.
X1 ∩ A ∩ B is not empty but it is not part of C, and hence also X1 ∩ B is not part of C.
From these data we derive the following:
[(A ∩ B) → C] = X0
(B → C) = Λ
Neither (Xo ∩ A) nor (X1 ∩ A) is empty
[A → (B → C)] = Λ
Therefore (A ∩ B) → C is not included in [A → (B → C)].
Let’s also show how we can model the example of the two switches.
Example. The light will go on if either switch A or switch B, but not both, is in the down position. Currently both switches are in the up position. So both conditionals “if A is clicked the light will be on” and “If B is clicked the light will be on” are true, but the conditional “If A is clicked and B is clicked the light will be on” is false. Again, the antecedent is not impossible: you can click both switches, and the result will be that the light is still off.
The model is very simple. There is only one cell X. A and B are both non-empty, and each is part of C. So X = (A → C) = (B → C). But A and B do not overlap, so (A ∩ B) → C] = Λ.
8. Nesting and iteration of conditionals
Equating conditionals with suitably chosen disjunctions (finite or infinite), if accepted in general for all conditionals, has therefore yielded a specific family of logical principles to govern reasoning with conditionals.
The failure of Import-Export, in both directions, shows that nesting of conditionals in Sellars’ theory is not trivial. The nested conditional [A → (B → C)] is not in general equivalent to a statement in which there is no nesting of conditionals.
But this flexibility does not go very far. For Sellars, counterfactual conditionals are grounded on underlying lawlike strict conditionals, due to what is the case in all possible histories for things of a given kind. That is a differentiating feature, it is unlike anything along the lines of ‘nearest possible world’ relations, on which conditionals would be seen as grounded by Stalnaker and Lewis.
As a putatively difficult example, take
(*) If this vase would break if thrown against the wall then it would break if dropped on the floor
This has the form (A → C) → (B → C).
To begin, let us see how the antecedent can imply the consequent. There is a certain list of kinds of vases (glass, ceramic, steel) and circumstances (wall of brick, of wool, …). For some of these combinations of kind and circumstance it is the case that those vases will always, necessarily, break if thrown against the wall. Consider the antecedent conditional “If this vase were to be thrown against the wall then it would break”, and two cases:
the conditions are normal and this is a steel vase
the conditions are normal and this is a porcelain vase
In case 1. the antecedent conditional is a counterlegal. In the second case it is lawlike and true. But in that second case, the consequent “If this vase were to be dropped on the floor then it would break”, is also lawlike and true. We might put it this way: in neither case is this matter very iffy.
Reduction of a certain nesting. (A → C) → (B → C) = (A → C) ∩ (B → C)
For suppose first that y is in cell Xo and is in (A → C) → (B → C). Then ◊( X ∩ (A → C) ∩ (B→C)) and Xo ∩ (A → C) ⊆ (B → C).
But Xo ∩ (A → C) is non-empty only if Xo is a member of the family {X in P: ◊( X ∩ A ∩C) & X ∩ A ⊆ C}, for distinct cells do not overlap. Therefore (A → C) is true in y. Similarly, Xo ∩ (B → C) is non-empty only if Xo is a member of the family {X in P: ◊( X ∩ B ∩ C)& X ∩ B ⊆ C}, and so (B → C) is true in y as well.
Secondly, suppose y is in cell Xo and is in (A → C) ∩ (B → C). Then Xo belongs to both families {X in P: ◊( X ∩ A ∩ C) & X ∩ A ⊆ C} and {X in P: ◊( X ∩ B ∩ C) & X ∩ B ⊆ C}. Therefore the intersections of Xo with (A → C) and with (B → C) are not empty but both equal Xo itself. Hence also Xo ∩ (A → C) is part of (B → C), trivially, so y is in (A → C) → (B → C).
REFERENCES
Fisher, Tyrus (2017) “Counterlegal dependence and causation’s arrows: causal models for backtrackers and counterlegals”. Synthese 194: 4983-5003.
Fitch, Frederick (1952) Symbolic Logic. New York: Ronald Press.
Sellars, Wilfrid (1948) “Concepts as involving laws and inconceivable without them”. Philosophy of Science 15: 287-315.
Thomason, Richmond H. (1970) “A Fitch-style formulation of conditional logic”. Logique et Analyse Nouvelle Série 13: 397-412.
NOTES
[1] Fitch had modified reasoning under supposition for modal logic in 1952, and in 1970 Richmond Thomason would similarly modify reasoning under supposition for the logic of conditionals.
[2] It is a drawback for this account that it does not distinguish between present tense subjunctive and present tense indicative conditionals. For Sellars’ story will be the same, in this summary, if “would” and “were” are replaced by “will” and “is”. We may for now just note that the typical examples to distinguish subjunctive and indicative conditionals are not present tense, however, but of the “what would have been if” type.
My previous blog post on this subject was quite abstract. To help our imagination we need to have an example.
Result that we had. Let A→ be a Boolean algebra with additional operator →. Let P(A→) be the set of all probability measures on A→such that m(a → b) = m(b|a) when defined (“Stalnaker’s Thesis’ holds). Then:
Theorem. If for every non-zero element a of A→ there is a member m of P(A→) such that m(a) > 0 then P(A→) is not closed under conditionalization.
For the example we can adapt one from Paolo Santorio. A fair die is to be tossed, and the possible outcomes (possible worlds) are just the six different numbers that can come up. So the proposition “the outcome will be even” is just the set {2, 4, 6}. Now we consider the proposition:
Q. If the outcome is odd or six then, if the outcome is even it is six.
For the probability function m we choose the natural one: the probability of “the outcome will be even” is the proportion of {2, 4, 6} in {1, 2,3, 4, 5, 6}, that is, 1/2. And so forth. Lets use E to stand for “the outcome is even” and S for “the outcome is six”. So Q is [(~E ∪ S)→ (E → S)].
PLAN. What we will do is first to determine m(Q). Then we will look at the conditionalization m# of m on the antecedent (~E v S), and next on the conditionalization m## of m# on E. If everything goes well, so to speak, then the probability m(Q) will be the same as m##(S). If that is not so, we will have our example to show that conditionalization does not always preserve satisfaction of Stalnaker’s Thesis.
EXECUTION. Step One is to determine the probability m(Q). The antecedent of Q is (~E ∪ S), which is the proposition {1, 3, 5, 6}. What about the consequent, (E → S)?
Well, E → S is true in world 6, and definitely false in worlds 2 and 4. Where else will it be true or false?
Here we appeal to Stalker’s Thesis. The probability of (E →S) is the conditional probability of S given E, which is 1/3. So that proposition (E → S) must have exactly two worlds in it (2/6 = 1/3). Since it is true in 6, it must also be true in precisely one of {1, 3, 5}. Which it is does not affect the argument, so let it be 5. Then (E → S) = {5, 6}.
Now we can see that the probability of Q is therefore, by Stalnaker’s Thesis, the probability of {5,6} given {1, 3, 5, 6}, that is, 1/2. (Notice how often Q is false: if the outcome turns out to be 1 then the antecedent is true, but there is no reason why “if it is even it is six” would be true there, etc.)
Step Two is to conditionalize m on the antecedent (~E ∪ S), to produce probability function m#. If m# still satisfies Stalnaker’s Thesis then m#(E → S) = m(Q). Next we conditionalize m# on E, to produce probability function m##. Then, if things are still going well, m##(S) = m(Q).
Bad news! That is greater than m(Q) = 1/2. So things did not go well, and we conclude that conditionalization has taken us outside P(A→).
Why does that show that conditionalization has taken us outside P(A→)? Well suppose that m# obeyed Stalnaker’s Thesis. Then we can argue:
m##(S) = 1, so m#(S|E) = 1. Therefore m#(E → S) = 1 by Stalnaker’s Thesis. Hence m(E → S | ~E v S) = 1. Finally therefore m((~E v S) → (E → S)) = m(Q) = 1. But that is false, as we saw above m(Q) = 1/2.
So, given that m obeys the Thesis, its conditionalization m# does not.
Note. This also shows along the way that the Extended Stalnaker’s Thesis, that m(A → B|X) = m(B|A ∩ X) for all X, is untenable. (But this is probably just the 51st reason to say so.)
APPENDIX
Just to spell out what is meant by conditionalization, let’s note that it must be defined carefully to show that it is a matter of adding to any condition already present (and of course to allow that it is undefined if the result is a condition with probability zero).
So m(A|B) = m(A ∩ B)/m(B), defined iff m(B) > 0. Hence m(A) = m(A|K), where K is the tautology (unit element of the algebra).
Then the conditionalization m# of m on B is m(. | K ∩ B), and the conditionalization m## of m# on C is m#(. |K ∩ C) = m(. | K ∩ B ∩ C), and so forth. Calculation:
m##(X) = m#(X|C) = m#(X ∩ C)/m#(C) = m(X ∩ C |B) divided by m(C|B),
that is [m(X ∩ C ∩B)/m(B)] divided by [m(C ∩ B)/m(B)],
In his new book The Meaning of If Justin Khoo discusses the inference from “Either not-A or B” to “If A then B”. Consider: “Either he is not in France at all, or he is in Paris”. Who would not infer “If he is in France, he is in Paris”? Yet, who would agree that “if … then” just means “either not … or”, the dreaded material conditional?
I do not want to argue either for or against the validity of the ‘or to if’ inference. The curious fact is that just thinking about it brings out something very unusual about conditionals. Perhaps it will have far reaching consequences for the concept of logical entailment.
To set out the traditional concept of entailment let A be a Boolean algebra of propositions and P(A) the set of all probability measures with domain A. I will use “&” for the meet operator. Then entailment, as a relation between propositions, can be characterized in three different ways, which are in fact, in this case, equivalent:
(1) the natural partial ordering of A, with (a ≤ b) defined as (a&b) = a.
(2) For all m in P(A), if m(a) = 1 then m(b) = 1
(3) For all m in P(A), m(a) <= m(b)
The argument for their equivalence, which is spelled out in the Appendix, requires just two facts about P(A):
P(A) is closed under conditionalization, that is, if m(a) > 0 then m(. |a) is also in P(A), if defined.
If a is a non-zero element of A then there is a measure m in P(A) such that m(a) > 0.
Enter the Conditional: the ‘Or to If’ Counterexample
The Thesis, aka Stalnaker’s Thesis, is that the probability of conditional (a → b) is the conditional probability of b given a, when defined:
m(a →b) = m(b|a) = m(b & a)/m(a), if defined.
Point: if the special operator→ is added to A with the condition that m(a → b) = m(b|a) when defined, then these three candidate definitions are no longer equivalent. For:
(4) For all m in P(A), if m(~a v b) = 1 then m(b|a) = 1
(5) For many m in P(A), m(~a v b) > m(b|a)
For (4) note that if m(~a v b) = 1 then m(a & ~b) = 0 so m(a) = m(a&b). Therefore m(b|a) = 1. So on the second characterization of entailment, the “if to or” inference is valid. If you are sure of the premise you will be sure of the consequent.
But not so for the third characterization of entailment. For (5) take this example (I will call it the counterexample): we are going to toss a fair die:
Probability that the outcome will be either not even or six (i.e. in {1, 3, 5, 6}) = 4/6 = 2/3.
Probability that the outcome is six, given that the outcome is even = 1/3.
So in this context the traditional three-fold concept of entailment comes apart.
Losing Closure Under Conditionalization
Recalling that to prove the equivalence of (1) –(3) for a Boolean algebra, we needed just two assumptions, we can use that, together with the counterexample, to draw a conclusion that holds for every and any logic of conditionals with Stalnaker’s Thesis.
Let A→ be a Boolean algebra with additional operator →. Let P(A→) be the set of all probability measures on A→such that m(a → b) = m(b|a) when defined. Then:
Theorem. If for every non-zero element a of A→ there is a member m of P(A→) such that m(a) > 0 then P(A→) is not closed under conditionalization.
I was surprised. Previous examples of such lack of closure were due to special principles like Miller’s Principle and the Reflection Principle.
I do not think this result looks really bad for the Thesis, though it needs to be explored. It does mean that from a semantic point of view, there are in the same set-up two distinct logics of conditionals.
However, it seems to look bad for the Extended Thesis (aka ‘fully resilient Adams Thesis’):
(*) m(A → B| E) = m(B | E & A) if defined
For if we look at the conditionalization of m on a proposition X, namely the function m*(. | ..) = m( . | .. & X), then if m is well defined and satisfies (*) we get
m*(A → B| E) = m(A → B| E & X) = m(B | E & A & X) = m*(B| E & A)
that is, m* also satisfies the Extended Thesis. So it appears that the Extended Thesis entails or requires closure under conditionalization for the set of admissible probability measures.
But it can’t have it, in view of the ‘or to if’ counterexample.
Appendix.
That (1) – (3) are equivalent for a Boolean algebra (with no modal operators).
Clearly, if (a & b) = a then m(a) <= m(b), and hence also that if m(a) = 1 then m(b) = 1. This includes the case of a = 0.
So I need to show that if the first relation does not hold, that is, if it is not the case that a ≤ b, then neither do the other two.
Note: I will make use of just two features of P(A):
P(A) is closed under conditionalization, that is, if m(a) > 0 then m(. |a) is also in P(A), if defined.
If a is a non-zero element of A then there is a measure m in P(A) such that m(a) > 0.
Lemma. If it is not the case that (a&b) = a then there is a measure p such that p(a & ~b) > 0 while p(b & ~a|) = 0.
For if (a & b) is not a then (a & ~b) is a non-zero element. Hence there is is a measure m such that m(a & ~b) >0, and so also m(a) > 0. So m(.|a) is well defined. And then m(a & ~b|a) >0 while m(b & ~a| a) = 0.
Ad condition (3): Suppose now that (a & b) is only part of a, and m(a & ~b) > 0). Then m(a) > 0, so m(. |a) is well defined and in P(A). Now m(b|a) = m(b & a)/[m(b & ~a) + m(b & a)] hence < 1, hence < m(a|a) = 1.
Ad condition (2): All we have left now to show is that if (a & b) is not a, and a is not 0, then condition (2) does not hold either. But that follows from what we just saw: there is then a member m of P(A) such that m(a) > m(b & a). So consider the measure m(.|a), which is also in P(A): m(b|a) < 1, while of course m(a|a) = 1.
What exactly is so different and difficult about relevance logic?
I will illustrate with Urquart’s 1972 paper that I discussed in the previous post. I’ll assume my post was read, but won’t rely on it too much.
1. A parting of the ways: two concepts of validity
At first, we feel we are on familiar ground. The truth condition for conditionals Urquhart offers is this:
v(A → B, x) = T iff for all y, if v(A, y) = T then v(B, x ∪ y) = T
We see at once that Modus Ponens is valid. For if A → B is true at x, and A is true at x , then B is true at x ∪ x, for that is just x itself.
But used to the usual and familiar, we’ll have one puzzle immediately
This semilattice semantics yields as valid sentences precisely the theorems of the implicational fragment of R.
The first axiom of that logic is A → A. So, what about v(A → A, x)?
We might think that it must be T because if v(A, y) = T then v(A, x ∪ y) = T, because x ∪ y has in it all the information that x had and more. But that is not so! Urquhart points out emphatically that
the information in x ∪ y may not bestow T on A, because dragging in y may have dragged in irrelevant information.
So A → A is supposed to be a valid sentence although it does not receive T from all valuations?
Right! The criterion of validity is a different one:
a sentence is valid if there is an argument to it from no premises at all, from the empty set of premises.
(Being used to the usual and familiar, we would have thought that the two criteria would coincide …)
So Urquhart’ semilattice has an zero, 0, which is the empty piece of information. And A is valid if and only if v(A, 0) = T for all evaluations v.
And the join operation obeys the semi-lattice laws, so for example (x ∪ 0) = (x ∪ x) = x.
Now we can see that the first axiom is indeed valid. The condition for A → A to be valid is the tautology: if v(A, 0) = T then for all x, if v(A, x) = T then v(A, x ∪ 0) = T.
So within this approach:
That a sentence is valid does not imply that it is True in every possibility. Valid conditionals, specifically, are False in many possibilities.
And that is a significant departure from how possibilities are generally understood, however different they may be from possible worlds.
But it is right and required for relevance logic, where valid sentences are not logically equivalent. In general A → A does not imply, and is not implied by B → B, since there may be nothing relevant to B in what A is about.
2. Validity versus truth-preservation
What happens to validity of arguments? The first, and good, news is that Modus Ponens for → is not just validity-preservation but truth-preservation, in the good old way, as I mentioned above.
Btu after this, in relevance logic we will depart from the usual notion of valid argument. We can have instead:
The argument from A1, …, An to B is valid (symbolically, X =>> A) if and only if A1 →. →. An → B is a valid sentence.
That is different from our familiar valid-argument relation. Some characteristics are the same.
By Urquhart’s completeness theorem, the valid sentences are the theorems of the implicational fragment of R. This logic has, apart from the rule of Modus Ponens, the axioms:
A → A
(A →. A → B) → (A → B)
(A → B) → .(C → A) → (C → B)
[A → (B → C)] → [B → (A → C)]
By axiom 4), the order of the premises does not matter. Therefore =>> is still a relation from sets of sentences to sentences. So, for example, the argument from A and B to C is valid exactly if A → (B → C) is a valid sentence, which is equally the case if B → (A → C) is a valid sentence.
But there are crucial differences.
3. What it is to be a sub-structural logic
This consequence relation =>> does not obey the Structural Rules, and the consequence operator is not a closure operator.
Let X╞A mean that the argument from sentences X to sentence A is valid: the semantic entailment relation. The Structural Rules (which are the rules that can be stated without reference to specific features of the syntax) are these:
Identity if A is in X then X╞A
Weakening If X ⊆ Y and X╞A then Y╞A
Transitivity If X╞A for each member A of Y and Y╞ B then X╞ B
The corresponding semantic consequence operator is defined: Cn(X) = {A: X╞A}. If the Structural Rules hold then this is a closure operator.
In relevance logic, Weakening is seen as a culprit and interloper: extra premises may bring irrelevancies, and so destroy validity.
And the new argument-validity criterion above does not include Weakening. If A, …, N =>> B it does not follow that C, A, …, N =>> B.
Here is an extreme example, that actually throws some doubt on the motivating intuitions about the role of irrelevancy. Even A does not in general entail A → A in this sense. For:
v(A → (A → A), 0) = T only if:
for all y, if v(A, y) = T then v(A →A, y ∪ 0) = T,
…… then v(A → A, y) = T,
…….. then for all z, if v(A, z) = T then v(A, y ∪ z) = T
and that does not follow at all. For A’s being true at z and at y is no guarantee that A will be true at y ∪ z.
So even A → (A → A) is not a valid sentence form.
This can’t very well be because A has too much information in it, irrelevant to A → A.
Rather, the opposite: A → A has too much information in it to be concluded on the basis of A. We have to think of valid conditionals as not being ‘empty tautologies’ at all, but as carrying much information of their own.
4. Attempting to look at this algebraically
In subsequent work referring back to Urquhart’s paper the focus is on the ‘join’ operation, and the approach is called operational semantics. But the structures on which the models are based are still, unavoidably, semilattices.
The properties of the join operation are these: it is associative and commutative, but also idempotent (x ∪ x = x), and 0 is the identity (x ∪ 0 = x). So far this amounts to a semigroup. But there is a definable partial order: relation x ≤ y iff x ∪ y = y is a partial ordering:
x ∪ x = x, so x ≤ x
if x ∪ y = y and y ∪ z = z then x ∪ z = (x ∪ (y ∪ z) = (x ∪ y) ∪ z = y ∪ z = z ; so ≤ is transitive.
This partial order comes free, so to speak, and that makes it a semilattice.
Can we find some ordering directly related to truth or validity?
Relative to any specific evaluation v we can see a partial order R in the sentences defined by:
ARB iff v(A → B,0) = T
Then we see that:
R is idempotent: ARA
R is transitive: if v(A → B, 0) = T and v(B → C, 0) = T then v(A → C, 0) =T.
For suppose for all y, if v(A, y) = T then v(B, y ∪ 0) = T. Suppose also that all y, if v(B, y) = T then v(C, y ∪ 0) = T. Since y ∪ 0 = y, we see that for all y, if v(A, y) = T then v(C, y ∪ 0) = T.
So R s a partial order, defined in terms of truth-conditions, to be discerned on the sentences, relative to a valuation.
But trying to find a connection between this ordering of sentences relative to v, and the order in the semilattice, we are blocked. For example, define
If A is a sentence and v an evaluation then [[A]](v) = {x: v(A,x) = T} is the proposition that v assigns to A.
The proposition that v assigns to A will most often not have 0 in it, so it is not closed downward. Nor is it closed upward, for if x is in [[A]](v) it does not follow that x ∪ y is in [[A]](v). So the propositions, so defined, are neither the ideals nor the filters in the semilattice.
I have a feeling, Toto, that we are not in Kansas anymore …….
REFERENCES
Standefer, S. (2022). “Revisiting Semilattice Semantics”. In: Düntsch, I., Mares, E. (eds) Alasdair Urquhart on Nonclassical and Algebraic Logic and Complexity of Proofs. Outstanding Contributions to Logic, vol 22. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71430-7_7
Urquhart, Alasdair (1972) “Semantics for Relevant Logics”. Journal of Symbolic Logic 37(1); 159-169.
(and of possibilities coupled with possible worlds)
Possibilities versus possible worlds page 1
Truth and falsity of sentences page 2
Urquhart’s initial results: relevance logic versus intuitionistic logic page 2
The discreet charm of the relevantist page 3
How can we think about Urquhart’s possibilities? page 3
Possibilities with worlds on the side page 4
How can we think of Urquhart’s world-coupled possibilities? page 4
What we may regret page 5
Possible worlds, as they appear in the semantics of modal logic, trade on our imagination schooled by Leibniz. They are complete and definite: the set of sentences that is true in a given world — that world’s description — leaves no question unanswered.
This notion of a world soon had its rivals in various approaches to non-classical logic.
One of the first appeared in Urquhart’s 1972 semantics for relevant logic. In his informal commentary, the elements (not yet named “possibilities”) are something to be thought of as possible pieces of information. Urquhart emphasizes that his concept “contrasts strongly with that of a possible world [since] a set of sentences exhaustively describing a possible world must satisfy the requirements of consistency and completeness.” (p. 164). At the same time he sees his enterprise as generalizing the form familiar from possible world semantics:
“The leading idea of the semantics is that just as in modal logic validity may be defined in terms of certain valuations on a binary relational structure so in relevant logics validity may be defined in terms of certain valuations on a semilattice-interpreted informally as the semilattice of possible pieces of information.” (p. 159)
Yet in most of the paper there is no, or little, role for the distinction between the description and the described. Indeed, Urquhart goes on quickly to specify that a piece of information, as he conceives of it, is a set of sentences. In later work in this area, his approach tends to be presented more abstractly, with the nature of the elements of the semilattice left as characterless as is the nature of possible worlds in the standard analysis of modal logic.
Lloyd Humberstone (1981) introduced “possibilities” as the general term for what may be “less determinate entities than possible worlds … [which] are what sentences … are true or false with respect to.” This term is now standard (witness e.g. the paper by Holliday and Mandelkern referenced in my recent posts), and I will use it.
When we think about possibilities, with the intuitive guide that they must correspond to partial descriptions of worlds, it is natural to see the possibilities as forming a partially ordered set (poset): x may have as much as or more information in it than y. That partial ordering relation is reflexive and transitive. Urquhart introduces in addition a join operation: if x, y are possibilities then so is (x ∪ y). The more sentences the more information, so (x ∪ y) has at least as much as, or more than, x or y. Urquhart adds the empty set of information, 0, which has the least information. A poset with this sort of operation defined on it is a semilattice (specifically, a join-semilattice).
Sentences may be evaluated as true or false ‘on the basis of’ given information. That is not as straightforward as it may look at first. Urquhart encourages us to think of it as the relation of premises to conclusion in an argument which commits no fallacies of relevance. His target, after all, is relevance logic, so that must be his main guide.
Given that, we cannot assume that if A is in x then A is true at x. Not so. There would have to be an argument from x to A, with all the sentences in x being relevant, playing an indispensable role, in that argument. While this notion of relevance, in the role it plays in the informal commentary, cannot be made more precise, what can be done is to show the form that any evaluation must take.
An evaluation is a function v that assigns truth-values to sentences relative to elements of the semilattice. Given such an assignment to atomic sentences, it is completed for conditionals by the clause
v(A → B, x) = T iff for all y, either v(A,y) = F or v(B, x ∪ y) = T
with the more friendly formulation being
iff for all y, if V(A, y) = T then v(B, x ∪ y) = T
with “if … then” understood in our metalanguage as the material conditional. Since (x ∪ x) = x, it follows that Modus Ponens is valid for the arrow.
Urquhart proves quickly that the set of formulas involving just → which are valid in the sense of always receiving T relative to all elements of such a semilattice, are the theorems of Church’s weak theory of implication. That is also the implicational fragment RI of the relevance logic R.
Urquhart notes secondly that if we as an additional principle that
(*) if V(A, x) = T then V(A, x ∪ y) = T
then we leave relevance logic and arrive at the implicational fragment of intuitionistic logic.
That we get a characteristic irrelevancy is clear: if V(B, x) = T, then (given *), it will be the case for all y, that whether or not V(A, y) = T, V(B, x ∪ y) = T. In that case the irrelevancy [B →( A → B)] is valid.
The underlying difference between the two sorts of logic is that, if relevance is taken into account, then the structural rule
Weakening: if X entails B then X ∪ {A} entails B
is invalid. A relevance logic is a sub-structural logic.
Relevance logics, which are Urquhart’s main target in this study, are, in many people’s eyes, weird. Something surprising surely springs to the eye when we note the omission of condition (*) in the semantics for RI. Although in the visualized picture (x ∪ y) contains all the information included in x, we are not to assume that if A is true at x then it is true at (x ∪ y). For the truth evaluation clause for A → B to make sense, we must think of (x ∪ y) as produced by adding the information in x to whatever makes A true at y. Nevertheless, the result (x ∪ y) may apparently lack some information, which was present in x, or have in it some information that renders some of the content of x impotent.
It is instructive to look at the model Urquhart constructs to show the completeness of RI. The elements of the semilattice are the finite sets of formulas of the language of RI, ∪ is set union, and 0 is the empty set. Then the evaluation defined is
V(B, {A(1), …, A(n)} = T if and only if A(1)→ … →. A(n) → B is a theorem of RI
In this notation (due to Church) a dot stands for a left hand parenthesis, and you have to imagine the right hand parenthesis. So A→. B → A is the same as A → (B → A). Since that is not a theorem, it is clear that in general V(A, {A, B}) may be F.
How can we think of this? I see two ways. The first is the one always evident in discussions of relevance logic: an irrelevant premise is a blemish, a blot on the escutcheon, anathema to natural logical thinking. So if some premises provide a good argument for global warming, say, the addition of a premise about the beauty of the Mona Lisa spoils the argument, removes its validity.
There is a second way, it seems to me. As a monologue or dialogue continues there are accepted devices for rendering something impact-less, though it was previously or elsewhere entered into the context. You may take back what you said. So if each element of the semilattice is a record, with times of entry noted, of things said in a conversation, then some of the content of x might be impact-less in the combination (x ∪ y).
It may also be interesting to think of what could happen here to the notion of updating, or conditionalizing. Suppose x is the information a person has, who then learns that A. So then his new information is x ∪ {A}. This will presumably mean that he now has some beliefs (counts as true) some statements he did not have as beliefs before. But we can also see that, due to the strictures on relevance, he will in general lose beliefs that he had.
We can imagine examples: someone believes that Verdi is Italian, and Bizet is French, and now is told (and accepts) that they are compatriots. He will clearly have to lose at least one of his beliefs about them, but which one? Or should he lose both the original beliefs; then should he at least retain that they are both from countries with Romance languages? Accommodating loss of beliefs has been not easy to handle in logical treatments of updating. Perhaps the advice to consider is that he should believe all and only what is relevantly implied by his information. That works even if his total information is made inconsistent by the addition.
Lewis and Langford’s classic text distinguished the strict conditional “Necessarily, if A then B” from the ordinary conditional “If A then B”, in their creation of modern modal logic. That relation, between strict and ordinary, is intuitively also the relation between the conditional in relevance logic E and relevance logic R. (“E” for “entailment”, “R” for “relevant”.)
To elaborate the semantics for RI into one for EI Urquhart accompanies each possibility with a possible world. To determine the truth value of a sentence, he submits, “we may have to consider not only what information may be available, but also what the facts are”. So the new sort of model has as its elements pairs x, w, with x an element of the semilattice and w a member of a set of worlds. That set of worlds is equipped, in the familiar way, with a ‘relative possibility’ relation, which Urquhart stipulates to be reflexive and transitive.
Now the correct evaluation clause for the conditional is this:
v(A → B, x, w) = T iff for all y, and all worlds u which are possible relative to w,
if v(A,y, u) = T then v(B, x ∪ y, u) = T
No special symbol is introduced for necessity: “Necessarily A” is symbolized as “(A→ A)→ A”. The implicational fragment EI of E is sound and complete on this semantics.
An obvious way is this: in the couple x,w the world w represents what is actually the case and the element x represents the information a certain privileged inhabitant has. Here “information” is to be read very neutrally: it may be true or false information, even inconsistent information, Now there may be a distinction in the language between purely factual statements, whose truth value is entirely determined by the world w and information-dependent statements whose truth value is at least in part determined by the possibility x. The conditionals are of the latter sort.
On this reading, a person who says, in sequence, “It rains” and “If it rains then it pours” is, by intention, if s/he understands her own language, first asserting that something is the case and then, after that, expressing his belief as to what things are really like in this vale of tears.
I have been hinting along the way that there may be interesting connections between Urquhart’s semantics for relevant logic and current discussions about conditionals – even if not immediately obvious. There are two disparities with current discussions, such as about epistemic modals, probabilities of conditionals, and the like. The first is that in the latter reference to roles for inconsistent information, let alone to relevance logics, is hard to find if not absent altogether. The second is that in the extensive literature concerning relevant implication that developed since the 1970s, reference to any natural language examples, let alone to work in philosophy of language, is scarce to the point of being negligible.
But the salience of similarities, between the exploration of liberal conceptions of possibilities and worlds suggest to me that they should perhaps be kept in mind.
SOURCES
Anderson, Alan R. and Nuel Belnap (1975) Entailment: The Logic of Relevance and Necessity. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Humberstone, I. L. (1981) “From Worlds to Possibilities”. Journal of Philosophical Logic 10: 313-339.
Standefer, S. (2022). “Revisiting Semilattice Semantics”. In: Düntsch, I., Mares, E. (eds) Alasdair Urquhart on Nonclassical and Algebraic Logic and Complexity of Proofs. Outstanding Contributions to Logic, vol 22. Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-71430-7_7
Urquhart, Alasdair (1972) “Semantics for Relevant Logics”. Journal of Symbolic Logic 37(1); 159-169.
[Revised on September 29, 2022] [Remarks on atomless lattices added October 6, 2022]
It is incumbent on any treatment of epistemic modals to show what is wrong with such a statement as “It is raining but it might not be”. To prove the relevant theorem H&M introduce a special condition, Knowability.
This term, as well as intuitions about what the condition implies, immediately recalls Fitch’s Paradox of Knowability. Fitch argued that if every truth is knowable then every truth is known. That conclusion is startling because we are sure there are many propositions which are true but not known to be true, and we are inclined to think that what ever is the case could be known to be the case. But the argument is straightforward: for any proposition A consider A* = (A and it is not known that A). There is no possible world in which it is true that it is known that A*. So our ostensible certainty is refuted.
If we look for an analogue in epistemic modals, replacing “it is known that” by “it must be that” we can see immediately that Fitch is evaded in a way that he could not be evaded in classical theories of modality. For such a statement as “It is raining but it is not the case that it must be raining”, equivalent to ““It is raining but it might not be raining” is never true, not true in any possibility. So Fitch’s argument does not get off the ground.
But we also see in Holliday and Mandelkern’s theory that the possibility that every truth is known can be realized, and that this can actually play a role in illuminating epistemic modals.
Before making this precise, my thought quickly stated is that in the classical reading there are indeed many examples of true propositions to the effect that A and that it is not known that A, but not in the reading where “not” is the orthocomplement.
Propositions and the i-function
Recall here that we are dealing with the complete orthocomplemented lattice of propositions, which is formed by a closure operation on a set of possibilities. The zero and unit element are, respectively, the empty set and the set of all possibilities. For each possibility x there is a possibility i(x) such that “It must be that A” is true exactly if i(x) is in A. The first condition on the i-function is
Facticity. x is a refinement of i(x). Symbolically: x ⊑ i(x)
The second condition is
Knowability. for every possibility x there is y such that i(y)⊑ x
Given Facticity that means that y ⊑ i(y) ⊑ x: all propositions true at x are true at i(y) and all propositions true there are true at y. What does it mean for the lattice of propositions for this condition to hold?
The simpler case is that of a complete atomistic lattice: A is an atom iff only the 0 element and A itself imply A. Recall here the earlier notation for the ‘span’ or ‘support’ of a possibility [x] = {y: y ⊑ x}. Let’s call a possibility x atomic exactly if z ⊑ x implies that [x] = [z]. So A is an atom iff A = [z] for some atomic possibility z.
If x is atomic and [x] has more than one member, those members are for all purposes in this theory the same, indiscernible, a harmless redundancy. In the example of a Euclidean space, where x is a vector, [x] = {y: y = kx for some number k}, and vectors which are multiples of each other belong to all the same subspaces and in physics do not represent different states. But the redundancy is easily removed too, so without loss of generality, I’ll add here:
Atom-uniqueness. If x is atomic then [x] has only one member.
Atomistic and atomless lattices
A lattice is atomistic (or atomic)exactly if each element is the join of a set of atoms. Specifically, in that case, then each possibility has a refinement which is atomic.
Lemma. If the lattice of propositions is atomistic then Knowability holds if and only if w = i(w) for each atomic possibility w.
Clearly if each possibility x has an atomic refinement w such that w ⊑ x and w = i(w) then Knowability holds. Conversely, if Knowability holds, and w is atomic then if y ⊑ i(y) ⊑ w then [y] = [w] = [i(y)], and so by Atom-uniqueness, w = i(w).
What if the lattice of propositions is not atomistic? Then any element x may have an infinite chain of refinements, and the condition has to be that for at least one element y in that chain, i(y) is also in that chain. But the same would apply to this y, and so we see an infinitely descending subchain of the form … y(j) ⊑ i(y(j) ⊑ y(k) ⊑ …. x.
If the lattice is atomless it is certainly possible for some element y to be such that y = i(y). In that case Knowability holds for all the elements x such that y refines x. But then, nevertheless, there is an element z that refines y, and a further element w such that w ⊑ i(w) ⊑ y, and hence also w ⊑ i(w) ⊑ x, So, if the lattice is atomless we can conclude that for each element y such that y ⊑ i(y) ⊑ x there is a distinct element w that refines y and w ⊑ i(w) ⊑ x. There is no bottom to it ….
So now what happens to Fitch’s paradox?
Suppose the lattice is atomistic, Knowability holds, x is in A, but also in ~□A. Then there is an atomic refinement w such that w ⊑ x, and all of the following are true at w: A, ~□A, □A, □~ □A. That is impossible. So there is no possibility x in which (A ∩ ~□A) is true. (Similarly, even if less transparently, if the lattice is not atomistic and Knowability holds.)
And yet of course it is the case that everything that is true in x is known at some other possibility, namely at the atomic possibility w which refines x, since i(w) ⊑ x.
Notice that argument I just gave does not go through if we just suppose that x is in A and x is not in □A. For our “not” in the metatheory is not just an orthocomplement, it is classical. In the case in which x is in A and i(x) is neither in A nor in ~A, which is not ruled out a priori. As pointed out in the previous post, the condition of i-regularity is required even to establish that {x: i(x) is in A} is a proposition. (And we must note that in H&M’s proof of 4.21 both Knowability and i-regularity are invoked).
Note. In view of the lemma it would seem that the i-function is not easily identifiable. In an atomistic lattice each element is the join of the atoms which refine it. Supposing that z is such that [z] = [x] ⊕ [y], where x and y are atomic so that x = i(x) and y = i(y), there cannot be in general a simple relation between i(z) and the pair i(x) and i(y). For the value of the i-function must in general be a ‘less informative’ possibility of which its argument is a non-trivial refinement.
(A further reflection on the paper by Holliday and Mandelkern (H&M), without reference to quantum mechanics.)
[Minor update about terminology on October 6, 2022.]
A. The law of double negation as clue to orthologic page 1
B. About compatibility-regularity page 1
C. About “must” and “might” page 3
D. Reflections on i-regularity page 4. (Note: this section corrected and updated on Sept. 8, 2022.)
A. The law of double negation as clue to orthologic
Let H be any set, and ⊥ an orthogonality ( i.e. symmetric, irreflexive) relation on H.
Define for the ortho-complement for subsets X of H: ~X = {x: for all y, if y is in X then x ⊥y}
Then ~~ is a closure operator on subsets of H, and a set X is closed iff X = ~~X.
The closed sets form an complete orthocomplemented lattice (Birkhoff references in preceding note). It is equally true of course that the elements of any complete orthocomplemented lattice satisfy the ‘law of double negation’: X = ~~X.
(Since there are many closure operations, let’s use “ortho-closed” for this one, when we want to be explicit.)
Note: for any set X, X is part of ~~X. The converse is often not true. However, there is also a ‘law of triple negation’ which holds for arbitrary subsets of H. That is, if Y = ~X then Y = ~~Y. I will discuss this below, where the reason will be easier to make clear.
B. About compatibility-regularity
I’ll use “compatible” for the complement of “orthogonal”, this to be understood in our classical meta-language: x and y are compatible exactly if they are not orthogonal. (Note on terminology: in lattice theory y is a ‘complement’ of x iff their meet is the zero element and their join the unit. In that sense, in a 2-dim Euclidean space, the straight lines through the origin are all each other’s complement, but of course only the ones at right angles to each other are each other’s ortho complement, and the rest are, in our present terminology, mutually compatible.)
The compatibility-regular sets, by H&M’s definition, are precisely the ortho-closed sets. The two ways of identifying propositions, as compatibility-regular sets of possibilities and as ortho-closed sets of possibilities, are the same.
Under what conditions is a set closed? To begin
for any subset X of H, X ⊆ ~~X.
(Note: it would be standard to write “X⊥” rather than “~X”, but this symbolism shows the relation to the logical law of double negation, so I will use it here.)
Reason: If x is in X then x ⊥ y, if y is orthogonal to every member of X. But ⊥ is symmetric, so x is then orthogonal to any element y which is orthogonal to every member of X.
For the converse we need that if x is not in X then it is not orthogonal to all of ~X,
i.e. there is some element y such that y is in ~X but x is compatible with y. Hence, in view of 1.:
2. X = ~~X if and only if for each element x of H, if x is not in X then there is an element y such that y is compatible with x but y is orthogonal to X.
Lemma. y is orthogonal to X if and only if, for all z, if z is compatible with y then z is not in X.
From left to right is obvious: if y ⊥ X and z is in X then z ⊥ y. Starting from the right suppose the contrapositive: For all z, if z is in X then z ⊥ y. It follows that y is orthogonal to X.
Hence 2. is the same as:
3. X = ~~X if and only if for each element x of H, if x is not in X then there is an element y such that y is compatible with x and for all z, if z is compatible with y then z is not in X.
The right hand side of 3. is H&M’s definition of compatibility regularity. For their definition is:
Set X of possibilities is compatibility regular if and only if for any x, if x is not in X then there is a possibility y compatible with x such that, for any z, if z is compatible with y then z is not in X.
It may be more convenient then, if we tend to think in terms of orthogonality rather than its complement, write H&M’s definition as:
Set X of possibilities is compatibility regular if and only if for any x, if x is not in X then there is a possibility y compatible with x which is orthogonal to X.
So, to conclude this part:
4. A subset X of H is compatibility-regular if and only if it is ortho-closed.
Since H&M identify the propositions as the compatibility-regular sets of possibilities, this brings in train, of course, that the propositions form a complete orthocomplemented lattice.
By the way, given 2. and 3., it is now easier to see why the ‘law of triple negation’ holds.
Lemma. If X, Y are any sets of possibilities and Y = ~X then Y is ortho-closed.
(We might call this the law of triple negation, which extends beyond propositions to arbitrary sets: ~X = ~~~X.)
To show this we rely on 2. above.
Suppose that Y = ~X and that y is not in Y. Then y is not orthogonal to all of X, hence there is an element z of X which is compatible with y. But z, being a member of X, is orthogonal to all members of Y because orthogonality is symmetric. So if y is not in Y then there is a possibility z which is compatible with y and is orthogonal to Y. Hence Y = ~~Y.
This may help to identify propositions when new notions are introduced.
C. About must and might
H&M introduce a function i, I’ll call it the information function or i-function, which maps possibilities into possibilities. The first condition on this function is
Facticity. x refines i(x), that is, for any closed set A, if i(x) is in A, so is x.
Intuitively we think of i(x) as having less information in it, we can perhaps even think of it as selecting the propositions that are not only true but known in x.
H&M introduce “must” and “might” as operators on sets of possibilities by:
5. □A = {x: i(x) is in A}
6. ◊A = ~□~A
What is specially important is to show that the purported modal propositions are indeed propositions, that is, ortho-closed sets.
H&M give an equivalent to the definition of the “might” operator as:
7. ◊A = {x: (for all y)[if y is compatible with x, then (there is z)(z is compatible with i(y) and z is in A.}
Looking at 6., however, we can rephrase this as the equivalent:
8. ◊A = the orthocomplement of the set {x: i(x) is in ~A}
Recall the Lemma above. If X, Y are sets of possibilities and Y = ~X then Y is ortho-closed.
We conclude that ◊A is a proposition.
In modal logic it is customary to preserve the relationships: □A = ~◊~A and ◊A = ~□~. Since ~◊~A is the orthocomplement of the orthocomplement of the set {x: i(x) is in ~~A} = ~~ □~~A, we could take this equivalence as the definition of □A. In that case it follows that □A is also a proposition.
However, as Wes Holliday has pointed out, if we take ◊A as basic and define □A as ~ ◊~A, then □A = ~~{x: i(x) is in A}. That is, □A is then the closure of {x: i(x) is in A}, which is not guaranteed to be the same as {x: i(x) is in A}.
The alternative choice, that □A = {x: i(x) is in A}, follows another tradition in the semantics of modal logic, namely that necessity in a world is equated to truth in certain (other) worlds, selected by a ‘relative possibility’ relation. (Think also of the account of counterfactual conditionals through the selection of a ‘nearest’ possible world.)
So in their paper, H&M introduce a condition on the i-function, namely i-regularity, which ensures that {x: i(x) is in A} is a proposition.
D. Reflections on i-regularity
I will not comment on i-regularity directly here, but will look into just where such a special condition is needed, in order to ensure that □A, defined as the set {x: i(x) is in A}, as H&M do, is a proposition whenever A is a proposition.
What are the conditions for □A to be closed, if A is closed?
We already know that □A is part of ~~ □A, by 1. above. So, looking for inspiration to 2. above, what we need is
9. for all x, if x is not in □A then there is an element y which is compatible with x but orthogonal to □A.
If x is not in □A, i. e. i(x) is not in A, then there are various options for where x, i(x) can be. Some of these options we can deal with at once, and then we should end up with the option(s) that cannot be dealt with without imposing special new conditions on the i-function.
Lemma. If x is not in □A, but x is in ~ A, then (*) holds
For in that case, given that □A is part of A, x itself is compatible with x and orthogonal to □A.
Lemma. If x is not in □A, and x is not in A either, and also not in ~A,then (*) holds.
To show that it helps to think of x as more or less a certain proposition, namely, the set of all refinements of x.
Definition. [x] = ∩{B: x is in B}
(I am using A, B for propositions, that is, compatibility-regular sets, X, Y for arbitrary sets.)
I will call [x] the span of x; we could also, with reference to a related notion, call it the support of x.
Since the propositions form a complete lattice, [x] is a proposition.
Sub-Lemma. x is in A iff [x] ⊆ A. In addition, [x] = {y: y is a refinement of x}
Both are so because [x] is the smallest proposition to which x belongs, in the appropriate sense of “small”.
I f x is not a member of A and also not a member of ~A, then there must be a member x’ of [x] and a possibility y in A such that x’ is compatible with y. For if no member of ~A is compatible with any member of [x] then all members of ~A are orthogonal to all members of [x], and in that case [x] is orthogonal to all members of ~A, that is to say, x is in ~~A, that is, x is in A.
But since there is then an element y of ~A which is compatible with a member x’ of [x], note that x’ is a refinement of x. So y is also compatible with x. (I do not mean that compatibility is transitive in general. Rather, if any element z is orthogonal to x, then x is in ~[z], and thus all the refinements of x are in ~[z], so z is then orthogonal to every refinement of x. By contraposition, if z is compatible with a refinement of x then z is compatible with x.). So there is then an element y compatible with x which is orthogonal to A, and therefore orthogonal to □A, which is part of A.
So what remains? The case in which x is in A and i(x) is not in A.
It is clear that in this case i(x) is not in ~A either, since i(x) is compatible with x which is in A.
So the remaining case is only: x is in A and i(x) is neither in A or in ~A.
We need a condition to ensure that in this case, x is compatible with some element which is orthogonal to every element z such that i(z) is in A.
Therefore:
The set □A defined as {x: i(x) is in A} is ortho-closed if the following is the case: IF x is in A, and i(x) is neither in A or in ~A, THEN x is compatible with some y which is orthogonal to all of {z: i(z) is in A}.
Intuitively what is required then has to do with this case: A is true in x and it is not known in x that A, and also not known in x that ~A. Then, still speaking intuitively, x has a brother in a different but compatible possibility, where knowledge of A is absolutely excluded.
I imagine the following speech:
“I said: “It might not rain, and then again it might rain.” In fact it is raining. But what I said was true, because there was a possibility compatible with my situation in which it was definitely not the case that it must rain, a possibility in which knowledge that it would rain was absolutely precluded.”
All right, so now we know where there is a clear need for a condition on the i-function. That condition cannot make reference to any particular proposition, it has to be general.
To end then, here is the condition H&M chose:
Definition. i-regularity: For all y: if y is compatible with i(x) then there is u, compatible with x, such that (for all z)(if z is compatible with u then y is compatible with i(z))
The proof of proposition 4.21, that {x: i(x) is in A} is a proposition, combines appeal to the compatibility-regularity of A and the i-regularity of the i-function.