Smullyan's Paradox

The point of loosening the definition of poison is to challenge the assertion that the difference in the circumstances of death matters. In this case you're asserting that B is not guilty as long as "everything in C's life" is the same. That's arguably impossible; simply by interacting with C be may make minute changes in what happens to C. At the other extreme we might say B did not change the fact that C won't make it home to see his wife and kids, and compared to spending time with loved ones, the details of how other things happen in C's life are immaterial, and C doesn't value them. Therefore B didn't change anything. So there's a sliding scale here. You choose to draw the line at, I guess, C noticing the difference. How isn't this arbitrary? If it is arbitrary, maybe the distinction is not important.

I think your problem is this; Some deaths which could have been are identical with some actual deaths. And some deaths which could have been aren't identical with other actual deaths. But, between these clear-cut case of paradigmatic identity and non-identity there are gray areas. There are some pairs of deaths -actual and possible- about which we are simply not sure what to say. Consequently, wherever we make a cut will be arbitrary. And, so you are suggesting, no arbitrary cut is important. I should note this is a general problem; it is the problem of identity over possible worlds.

Perhaps it is true that no arbitrary cut is important. But that does not mean we cannot make such a cut with full justification, and such a cut could support claims about causation. Remember, this is a causal problem primarily and an ethical problem only in a derivative way.


Let's consider a similar problem:

1 grain of wheat does not make a heap.
If 1 grain of wheat does not make a heap then 2 grains of wheat do not.
If 2 grains of wheat do not make a heap then 3 grains do not.
…
If 9,999 grains of wheat do not make a heap then 10,000 do not.
10,000 grains of wheat do not make a heap.

This sort of problem is called a sorites paradox. The problem is that 10,000 grains of sand are a heap. But any cut between 10,000 and 1 seems entirely arbitrary. How could one grain of sand be so important to make or break a heap? Why not the one before or after it? This is why the first premise seems compelling.

But, clearly, it shouldn't. Because 10,000 grain do make a heap. The way to accept this is to say that we sometimes can make arbitrary cuts, and we can make them pretty much wherever we want. This idea is called supervaluation; between paradigmatic cases any cut we make is in order. Consequently, we make such cuts with all the justification we need. And those cuts can make a pile into a heap. They can support significant metaphysical distinctions.

Well, we can say the same thing about deaths. Between clear-cut paradigmatic cases of different deaths (and, I would contend all the deaths I have discussed so far are such clear-cut cases!) there are gray areas. But this doesn't matter. In the gray areas we can say whatever we want. And, depending on what we say, we will make different causal claims. The fact that these causal claims will be based on an arbitrary distinction doesn't matter; we make the distinction with full justification.
 
I think your problem is this; Some deaths which could have been are identical with some actual deaths. And some deaths which could have been aren't identical with other actual deaths. But, between these clear-cut case of paradigmatic identity and non-identity there are gray areas. There are some pairs of deaths -actual and possible- about which we are simply not sure what to say. Consequently, wherever we make a cut will be arbitrary. And, so you are suggesting, no arbitrary cut is important. I should note this is a general problem; it is the problem of identity over possible worlds.

Perhaps it is true that no arbitrary cut is important. But that does not mean we cannot make such a cut with full justification, and such a cut could support claims about causation. Remember, this is a causal problem primarily and an ethical problem only in a derivative way.


Let's consider a similar problem:



This sort of problem is called a sorites paradox. The problem is that 10,000 grains of sand are a heap. But any cut between 10,000 and 1 seems entirely arbitrary. How could one grain of sand be so important to make or break a heap? Why not the one before or after it? This is why the first premise seems compelling.

But, clearly, it shouldn't. Because 10,000 grain do make a heap. The way to accept this is to say that we sometimes can make arbitrary cuts, and we can make them pretty much wherever we want. This idea is called supervaluation; between paradigmatic cases any cut we make is in order. Consequently, we make such cuts with all the justification we need. And those cuts can make a pile into a heap. They can support significant metaphysical distinctions.

Well, we can say the same thing about deaths. Between clear-cut paradigmatic cases of different deaths (and, I would contend all the deaths I have discussed so far are such clear-cut cases!) there are gray areas. But this doesn't matter. In the gray areas we can say whatever we want. And, depending on what we say, we will make different causal claims. The fact that these causal claims will be based on an arbitrary distinction doesn't matter; we make the distinction with full justification.
In the problem of the heap the distinction is indeed arbitrary, and the consequences of drawing the line in the wrong part are semantic only. If we came to a different conclusion, it would only mean we have different definitions of heap. But with who caused death, the question is of ethics. The line between ethical an unethical isn't arbitrary. It can be hard to pin down, but that's not the same thing.

If the distinction between scenario's where B causes the circumstances of C's death, and where he doesn't is arbitrary, then it cannot be a factor in the morality of what B did. So I disagree that this is "a causal problem primarily and an ethical problem only in a derivative way". Cause must be defined in a way that is relevant to ethics, so it is an ethical problem primarily, and causal only because ethics, according to you, depends on who actually killed C.

Therefore there are two possibilities: either cause is irrelevant to ethics, or the distinguishing line of who caused C's death is not arbitrary. Now I have posited the former, but in fairness I have not actually disproved the latter.
 
Actually, come to that, I can't seen an alternative method produced in this thread at all. I've seen a lot of criticisms and questioning of Lovett's method, but no alternatives that will answer the question in a consistent, predictable manner. A lot of "hmm this doesn't seem right", but no alternative methods. I can't think of one either. So we must use Lovett's.

They both tried to kill A, so they're both equally at fault. The details of how B died are immaterial. :p
Too much of a cop-out for you?
 
Too much of a cop-out for you?
"They both tried to kill C, therefore they are both equally at fault" <--- the "equally" part sure doesn't seem right to me. The guy that actually killed him is surely "more responsible" for his death. I mean, if I try to kill C with my mind, by concentrating really hard with my index fingers at my temples and going into what I call my "power state", but before I am successful, C dies of dehydration, am I "equally" responsible for C's death? B could argue that he merely denied C the chance of being killed by the awesome power of my mind.

Or consider this scenario: A and B try to kill C. A puts poison in his canteen. B tries to kill C by casting a dehydration spell on him. A could argue that the poison was, in fact, an antidote to the magical spell that B had put on him; A saved C's life, and, in fact, extended it by some length of time. C therefore owes A a debt of gratitude, whereas B should be punished for murder.

Of course none of that actually happened. What actually happened was that B's spell didn't do anything, and A's poison killed him. But when we remove what actually happened from the equation, all sorts of fanciful ideas suddenly become defensible. What actually happened must at the very least be taken into consideration...
 
In the problem of the heap the distinction is indeed arbitrary, and the consequences of drawing the line in the wrong part are semantic only. If we came to a different conclusion, it would only mean we have different definitions of heap. But with who caused death, the question is of ethics. The line between ethical an unethical isn't arbitrary. It can be hard to pin down, but that's not the same thing.

If the distinction between scenario's where B causes the circumstances of C's death, and where he doesn't is arbitrary, then it cannot be a factor in the morality of what B did. So I disagree that this is "a causal problem primarily and an ethical problem only in a derivative way". Cause must be defined in a way that is relevant to ethics, so it is an ethical problem primarily, and causal only because ethics, according to you, depends on who actually killed C.

Therefore there are two possibilities: either cause is irrelevant to ethics, or the distinguishing line of who caused C's death is not arbitrary. Now I have posited the former, but in fairness I have not actually disproved the latter.

Ok, I see the problem! Look at the OP again. There are actually two questions asked; 'Who killed C?' and 'Who is guilty?'. We have been trying to answer different questions, which is why I have been taking it as a primarily causal problem and you have been preoccupied with questions of ethics; of moral responsibility.

Your argument, as I take it, is this; in individuating deaths we must make an arbitrary, even if justified, distinction somewhere. There can be no arbitrarinness in ethics. Or, at least, something so important as the moral responsibility -the guilt- for an act of wrongdoing as great as murder cannot swing on anything arbitrary. Hence, the question 'who is guilty' cannot swing on how we individuate deaths. And that's fine.

But, so I have argued, the question of who is causally responsible for C's death must be solved by individuating deaths in the way I have explained. I haven't quite explained why this is absolutely necessary, but there are all sorts of problems formally similar to this one that make it so.

I'll explain this if you want; in general the problem is that unless we do this for any event E with multiple sufficient causes we can not say any of those causes 'caused' E. I'll give one example. Suppose A and B each throw bricks at a window. A's brick hits the window first, and smashes it. B's sails right through (because the window is smashed). Both throwings would be sufficient to cause the window smashing. But it was A's which actually caused it. Why is this so? Because A's caused the particular smashing that actually happened, and B's did not.

So it looks very much like causal questions need to be solved in this way. And the question 'Who Killed C?' is a causal question. It is asking us who caused C's death. And, as we have established, in individuating deaths (and, for that matter, smashings) we must make an arbitrary distinction somewhere.

The problem arises then, if and only if we accept that 'cause must be defined in a way that is relevant to ethics'. This is a problem because, if causation depends on an arbitrary distinction, and ethics never depends on such a distinction (at least, in such big issues), we have a paradox. We must either drop our account of causation, drop the non-arbitrariness of ethics or drop the link between the two.

You yourself posit the latter; you say that 'cause is irrelevant to (the big issues) in ethics'. And this is definitely the right way to go. I certainly haven't said anything that should have lead you to believe we disagree here. It is the right way to go because it means that we can say -in cases like this- that it was B who killed C, but that both are roughly equally guilty (of wrongdoing - not necessarily C's death). Consequently, an agents guilt does not depend on the exact things they caused. And this seems right; someone who killed successfully out of good) luck is no less guilty then someone who failed to kill due to bad luck. In these cases, cause doesn't depend on ethics.

So that seems like it resolves our problem. There are two notions of responsibility at work in this debate; causal responsibility and moral responsibility. Causal responsibility depends on arbitrarily individuated events. But moral responsibility can't depend on such individuation. Consequently, moral responsibility does not depend on causal responsibility.

(Note that on this strategy we are likely going to have to say something like the 'guilt' is not for a particular killing, but for a great wrongdoing. But I don't see any problem here).
 
I like the distinction between moral and causal responsibility, but it seems trivial to say that both A and B were at fault morally. I mean, I don't think there is a normative ethical theory that would say that A and B aren't both at fault morally?
 
Now to be more serious.

So that seems like it resolves our problem. There are two notions of responsibility at work in this debate; causal responsibility and moral responsibility. Causal responsibility depends on arbitrarily individuated events. But moral responsibility can't depend on such individuation. Consequently, moral responsibility does not depend on causal responsibility.

(Note that on this strategy we are likely going to have to say something like the 'guilt' is not for a particular killing, but for a great wrongdoing. But I don't see any problem here).

I'm not sure it resolves our problem, but rather encourages us to return to the (brain-teaser style) problem that Smullyan's Paradox presents. Now we'd ask it this way: How can two people both be morally responsible (indeed equally morally responsible) for someone's death, if only one of them caused it? Your hammering B's complete causal responsibility has added intensity to the pair of questions with which the paradox presents us.
 
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post 86

Gori's Paradox: when is something that is not a paradox a paradox?

When it's Smullyan's Paradox! :D


Yes. And you can also find that I've said 'It's raining' as well as 'It's not raining'. I said the first when I was talking about the weather in (rainy) London and the second when I was talking about the weather in (sunny) Madrid. When one is referring to different things one is not contradicting oneself. And in this case, that is precisely what I was doing. I was referring to different problems.

I like the distinction between moral and causal responsibility, but it seems trivial to say that both A and B were at fault morally. I mean, I don't think there is a normative ethical theory that would say that A and B aren't both at fault morally?

I think the non-trivial thing we want to say is that they are both at fault to the same extent morally. They are both equally 'in the wrong'. And I think we can draw other things from this line of thought; if they are both equally in the wrong it is not actual killing that makes a difference to (degree of) moral responsibility. Moral responsibility relies on something closer to motives (this is obviously very rough at this point).

This things aren't trivial. Many ethicists have located the source of moral responsibility in the action of the consequences of any action. Given what I have said, responsibility can't quite be located here. It must be located in the agent. I should not that the standards of moral responsibility are not necessarily he same as those of rightness at this point; the latter might still be located in these things (although, if they are the same standards, this is again something non-trivial we could say, and quite massively not trivial. It seems to secure a form of virtue theory).
 
"They both tried to kill C, therefore they are both equally at fault" <--- the "equally" part sure doesn't seem right to me. The guy that actually killed him is surely "more responsible" for his death. I mean, if I try to kill C with my mind, by concentrating really hard with my index fingers at my temples and going into what I call my "power state", but before I am successful, C dies of dehydration, am I "equally" responsible for C's death? B could argue that he merely denied C the chance of being killed by the awesome power of my mind.

Or consider this scenario: A and B try to kill C. A puts poison in his canteen. B tries to kill C by casting a dehydration spell on him. A could argue that the poison was, in fact, an antidote to the magical spell that B had put on him; A saved C's life, and, in fact, extended it by some length of time. C therefore owes A a debt of gratitude, whereas B should be punished for murder.

Of course none of that actually happened. What actually happened was that B's spell didn't do anything, and A's poison killed him. But when we remove what actually happened from the equation, all sorts of fanciful ideas suddenly become defensible. What actually happened must at the very least be taken into consideration...
The hypothetical of how the parties may pretend that they did not intend to kill C is beside the point, when the posted premise is that they did in fact intend to kill C. Even if we only consider the actions of A and B in evaluating their guilt, their intent still matters, so we would have to guess, and exotic hypotheticals would be dismissed as implausible.

Consider a different scenario: A would-be terrorist sets a bomb to blow up a public place. Unbeknownst to him, the bomb is a dud. He leaves the scene confident the bomb will go off, and never second guesses his plot thereafter. Should this man be locked up for the same amount of time as a successful terrorist? My answer is yes.

The scenario in the OP seems very much analogous to this one. Both A and B plot to kill C, both try to set a trap for him, neither back out, and neither become aware that their attempt had failed. As long as all that holds, I view both miscreants in the same light.
 
@Lovett: I thought consequentialism was about the "expected" or "intended" consequence of the action, rather than the actual, factual consequence. So someone who attempts but fails to murder someone is still in the wrong morally -- just that his "wrongness" was due to the expected/intended/potential consequence of his act, rather than because it defies some rule of ethics for one's behaviour, or because it makes him an unvirtuous person, or whatever. In other words, consequentialists would say that what is wrong about attempted murder is that somebody could have died; deontologists would say that was is wrong about attempted murder is that it is carrying out an act that violates an ethical rule of theirs; virtue ethicists would say that it is incompatible with being a virtuous person or whatever. But they would all agree that attempting to murder someone is equally wrong, whether or not they were successful. I don't think there's an ethical system that distinguishes between an attempted murderer and an actual murderer; indeed, I think that if there were such a system, it would be rightly criticised for doing so!

I could be wrong about consequentialism, but that was my understanding of it.

@Souron: The point of the scenario wasn't to mirror the OP's scenario, but to point out that what is actually happening in fact is still important in determining who is guilty, what punishment they ought to receive, etc. If I try to kill you with my mind, but I fail, am I guilty of attempted murder? How should I be punished? I suppose I'm just saying "hmm, this doesn't sound right".
 
(Note that on this strategy we are likely going to have to say something like the 'guilt' is not for a particular killing, but for a great wrongdoing. But I don't see any problem here).

I'll tell you what I think is the problem there. As soon as the ethical consideration causes us to change our focus from "death by dehydration" to "the fact that C ended up dead," the causal situation becomes exactly like your window-smashing analogy: A is responsible because he rendered B's actions moot.

edit, afterthought: It's tantamount to asking did C die or did he die of dehydration? Do you see a paradox, or enigma, or conundrum, or mind-bender, or brain-teaser in that?
 
@Souron: The point of the scenario wasn't to mirror the OP's scenario, but to point out that what is actually happening in fact is still important in determining who is guilty, what punishment they ought to receive, etc. If I try to kill you with my mind, but I fail, am I guilty of attempted murder? How should I be punished? I suppose I'm just saying "hmm, this doesn't sound right".
Most of the time when we imagine people trying to kill someone with their mind, they are starring at them and imagining their death. That never works, any real person trying it, knows in the back of their heads that it doesn't work. If, just once, someone actually succeeded, they would be surprised and quite possibly remorseful, because they didn't really mean to do it. So that's not the same.

On the other hand, if somebody was crazy enough to think they had such a super power, and tried to use to do unjust murder, it doesn't seem entirely wrong to treat them like a criminal. They should be persuaded not to try to kill people.

What conflates this example is that killing someone with your mind is thought of as someone imagining a death happening, and because of that mental image, the death occurs. Imagining someone dieing is never by itself a crime. So when we say someone is guilty because they imagined something, the first intuitive response is that cannot be. But that response is can be wrong in a narrow set of ridiculous hypotheticals.
 
Most of the time when we imagine people trying to kill someone with their mind, they are starring at them and imagining their death. That never works, any real person trying it, knows in the back of their heads that it doesn't work. If, just once, someone actually succeeded, they would be surprised and quite possibly remorseful, because they didn't really mean to do it. So that's not the same.

On the other hand, if somebody was crazy enough to think they had such a super power, and tried to use to do unjust murder, it doesn't seem entirely wrong to treat them like a criminal. They should be persuaded not to try to kill people.

What conflates this example is that killing someone with your mind is thought of as someone imagining a death happening, and because of that mental image, the death occurs. Imagining someone dieing is never by itself a crime. So when we say someone is guilty because they imagined something, the first intuitive response is that cannot be. But that response is can be wrong in a narrow set of ridiculous hypotheticals.
(Bolding mine. Also, for the avoidance of doubt, I'm not talking about someone who idly wishes that Justin Beiber would just die already; I'm talking about someone who makes a sincere attempt to kill someone with their minds. Perhaps they think they are a wizard and cast a dehydration spell on you, or whatever.)

That seems like an awfully light punishment for an attempted murderer --- unless this isn't actually attempted murder? I mean, it's one thing to consider that person a criminal, but earlier, you used the word equally: they are "equally at fault". It was this word that I took issue with. And it seems that you are not treating them equally here: someone who tries to poison another guy and someone who tries (sincerely) to kill someone with their minds are not equally guilty of attempted murder, are they? Their punishments are certainly different; the way we treat them afterwards are certainly different; their crimes clearly differ both in nature and in consequence. Why should they be equally at fault?


Personally, I think that this is a big grey area, and that the actual consequences are important in determining what kind of penance is required of the person before we accept that justice is done. I can't accept that an attempted murderer and a successful murderer receive the same punishment, because in the latter case, the consequences are so much worse. If I steal $1, that's nowhere near as bad as if I steal $1m, so I should receive a greater punishment if I do the latter. Both acts (stealing) are immoral, but one is more immoral than the other. I don't think a coherent, consistent, normative ethical theory can be built around this, because it mixes a whole bunch of stuff together that don't naturally plug into each other (justice, punishment, ethics, consequences and motives, etc etc). But I think it's how most of us deal with ethical problems. To the extent that it is an ethical theory at all, it is a descriptive theory, rather than a normative one.
 
Does attempted murder not require a reasonable chance of success? Attempted murder by putting salt in his tea and hoping that he would be killed by the bad taste seems fundamentally strange as grounds for prosecution, to me.
 
Well he's saying that they are equally at fault morally, because the moral fault lies in the motivations, not in the consequences. What's wrong is that (a) he wanted to kill someone, and (b) he tried (sincerely) to kill someone. There is clearly some merit to this thinking: we ought not to do either of those things, whether or not we are actually successful. But the actual consequences still seem to matter to us. So even though (a) and (b) are all that's necessary to consider the act immoral, we still care about (c) what he did, and (d) what actually happened after he did it.
 
Did C die or did he die of dehydration?

Because if he died, then A is a murderer and B an attempted murderer. If he died of dehydration, B is a murderer and A is an attempted murderer.

Just answer that question.
 
The only answer to that question is 'yes', because it's nonsensical.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you . . . Smullyan's Paradox!

(enigma, conundrum, brain teaser, mind-bender)

I've been told flatly, repeatedly and once rudely throughout this whole thread that the thing is not a paradox.
 
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